#and like i have a scar on my hand that i got through a silly reason and i think he'd kiss that often too and it would always make me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyewka · 3 months

Text

choi yeonjun. | c.yj

PAIRING ▸ bsf!yeonjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, smut, a bit of angst

SYNOPSIS ▸ in which getting your male friend prettied up for a party goes weirdly left.

WARNINGS ▸ sub!jjun, femdom, grinding, protected, dacryphilia

NOTES ▸ parenthesis around an event refers to the past!! anyway its been like, a hundred years since ive gone ghost but i promised to come back with a fic and here i am!! its a silly best friends fic lol nothing more to it but i always enjoy any semblance of feedback, it'll motivate me greatly <3 enjoy this meal hehe.

tags: @soobhns (hope you enjoy it babes ^^)

"THE HELL'S YEONJUN DOING?"

You swirl your cup, tilting your head as you watch the new topic of your conversation touch up his hair a little too much, running a hand through his unruly strands as his legs barely work to have him stand up straight when a girl approaches him.

Mark looks concerned as he adds in, “And who the fuck got him in those bunny ears? Is it easter or something, geez”

You snort, your drink sputtering out of your mouth, spraying some of it on Taehyun. “Oh my god, Y/N, gross!” he groans loudly, jumping back as if he’s been hit by a water balloon.

“Sorry,” you giggle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes still glued to Yeonjun. He’s fumbling awkwardly, trying to maintain a conversation with a girl who’s very clearly interested if the finger trail down his bicep was anything to go by. The rooftop air is especially chilly today, and you wonder if Yeonjun’s goosebumps are any visible to her. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, completely out of his element.

“It’s probably some stupid hazing shit, he never backs down from those.” Hyejoon mutters, scrolling away on her phone.

“But bunny ears? For hazing that seems weak as shit.” Mark responds, seemingly as interested on the train wreck thats about to ensue as you are. Then suddenly, he turns to you, eyes still trained on Yeonjun and the pretty girl. “Dude you’re practically his twin sister—why’s he acting like that?”

You cringe internally at that, smacking Mark’s arm. “Ow! The fuck?” he hisses, rubbing his arm. Twin sister? Oh god, you do not like that one bit.

Not at all. “Shut up Mark.” He only grumbles as he backs away.

You would rather shower in spoiled milk than be referred to as Yeonjun’s sister in any capacity—and it has absolutely nothing to do with what happened a few hours ago.

...It does add on to the grossness of it all though.

—4 hours ago …[5:21 PM]

The moment you step into his flat, you dash down the narrow hallway and into his room, launching yourself onto the bed with a triumphant yell. The plush mattress bounces slightly under your weight giving you a fleeting second of bliss before Yeonjun bursts in, diving towards you. "Not with your outside clothes!" he whines, trying to wrestle you off. "You're contaminating my sacred space!" he adds with mock seriousness, his efforts both frantic and hilarious.

You stick out your tongue childishly, and it serves the job to tick him off. “Man, you’re such a pain,” he groans.

“What should I do anyway? Change into PJ’s I haven’t brought along? Besides!” you retort, struggling to pull your makeup bag out from your tote while Yeonjun’s weight presses down on you. With a triumphant grin, you finally free it and wave it in front of his face. “Where are we supposed to do this then?”

He snorts. “The couch, duh.”

The mere thought of that dark green monstrosity, old and beat-up, sends a shiver down your spine. The last time you sat on it, its worn fabric had felt like sandpaper against your skin, and the patches of stuffing poking through made it seem like you were sitting on a nest of lumpy scars. You couldn't even sit through twenty minutes of the movie with Yeonjun before you had decided to move to the floor.

Your upper lip curls in distaste. “No chance. You need to switch that thing out ASAP.”

Yeonjun shrugs nonchalantly, clearly not as repulsed as you are. “What’s wrong with it? I mean, yeah, it’s seen better days, but it has character.”

“Character? More like a biohazard waiting to happen,” you say, grimacing. “I’m not risking sitting on that thing again. Also, get off, you're killing me.”

Yeonjun lets out a long, resigned sigh, knowing that arguing any further would be a losing battle. "Fine," he mutters, shifting his weight off you. "But at least take your shoes off. You're genuinely a psychopath," he adds.

You relent, rolling off the bed and kicking off your shoes with exaggerated care, just to appease him. Yeonjun narrows his eyes, silently watching you with a playful glint in his gaze, his arms crossed over his chest. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he observes your antics. "What?" you finally ask, catching him off guard.

He blinks, momentarily flustered, then quickly averts his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just counting down how many more years I have to deal with this," he says, gesturing vaguely at your exaggerated movements.

"Yeah, yeah," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "You know you love me."

"Keep telling yourself that," he replies, but his tone is light, the grumble fading away. You click your tongue, making sure to stick out a solid finger behind his back when he stands up to head to the bathroom. Prick.

But you can't keep up the act much longer when you look down at your outfit. It's not overly complicated but you still haven’t thanked him for helping you feel a lot more confident in it than you would've if he wasn't by your side ranting about silhouettes and all his other (not-so) stupid fashion advice.

With a sigh, you allow yourself to flop back onto his bed, your fingers sinking into the soft duvet. As you lay there, you take in the new decorations he's put up on his wall. He only recently moved here, and it's already looking a lot more like him than the last time you paid him a visit. The posters of his favorite bands, the quirky art pieces, and the sleek record player that sits atop a vintage-looking stand, surrounded by stacks of vinyl records—everything screams Yeonjun. Even the smell your brain finally registers as his signature scent subtly creeps up your nostrils; sandalwood, fresh linen and hints of citrus. It calms your nerves—like your body's trained to associate anything about Yeonjun with feeling safe.

You reach out for a familiar-looking photo strip on his desk, your finger stretching as far as it can until you manage to snatch it.

It's a sequence of three pictures of you and Yeonjun back in... high school? Freshman year considering you're sporting a terrible bowl cut that looks like it was done with a soup bowl and a pair of dull scissors. Yeonjun, on the other hand, smiles big with his braces, the metal gleaming under the photo booth's flash.

And just like that, you're suddenly reminded one thing; Yeonjun's always been there with you, for you.

("She's a total bitch anyway."

You gasp, hitting his arm. "What?!" he exclaims, affronted. "I'm starting to think you really enjoy abusing me."

"You just- you can't say that about women!" You try to sniff back the snot running down your nose, but it's futile.

He rolls his eyes. "She slept with Heeseung behind your back. Shes’ earned the title."

You shut your mouth and turn from him, not believing you're seriously trying to defend the ex-friend that had taken enough of a liking of your crush to sleep with him. It isn't the worst offense in the world but considering she's done it behind your back instead of telling you upfront...it leaves a bitter enough taste in your mouth to end the friendship altogether.

"I...really liked her, and I really liked him," you mutter, the admission feeling heavier than you'd expected. "Do you think I'm being childish? It's not like I was dating him or anything."

Yeonjun wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in as he taps his hand rhythmically against your arm.

The summer heat lingers in the air, the warmth from the sun-baked concrete seeping through your clothes. You can feel the rough texture of the sidewalk under your palms, gritty and familiar. "Nope. Feelings are valid."

A silence overtakes you both as you watch the fifth car drive by you. Distant chirping of crickets mingle with the occasional rustle of leaves in the slight breeze. The neighborhood is alive with the soft, ambient sounds of summer nights: a dog barking in the distance, the faint laughter of kids playing a few houses down, the low murmur of a television through an open window.

Suddenly, he tightens his arm around you, providing a comforting squeeze. You lean into him, finding comfort in his presence.

"You know I'd never do that to you, right?" he says softly, breaking the silence.

You look up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully, "Sleep with my male crush? I've always questioned, I don't know."

He gives you a betrayed look and you burst out laughing.)

It's weird how often you reminisce about the past...especially these past few months; sappy and overly sentimental shit that you try not to dwell on every time you hang out. Is this how old people feel?

There's always a time and place, it's just not when he farts into a pillow and practically Dutch ovens you with it. Now, that memory you'd rather attempt to forget as you close your eyes, throwing the photo strip back on his desk exhaustingly.

You don't notice that he's out until you feel water dripping onto your skin. Your eyes shoot open in horror, seeing his face inches from yours, freshly washed and hair slightly damp. He's leaning over you with a look of resignation mixed with amusement, a towel slung over his shoulder. "Enjoy your nap?" he asks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face before he shakes his head vigorously, sending a shower of water droplets from his hair onto your face.

You yelp and scramble up, swatting at the water droplets. "Yeonjun, seriously?" you sputter, wiping your face. "You're such a child!"

"That's ironic because you're even more of a child!" he rebuts with a pout, mimicking a petulant toddler. Talk about ironic. You narrow your eyes at him before exhaling sharply out of your nose, sitting up to make room for him on the bed.

He plops down beside you and it takes you a second to take your eyes off his face—freshly scrubbed and still slightly damp—before remembering why you're here in the first place. Makeup.

Right, makeup.

—3 hours and 12 minutes ago …[6:09 PM]

It was over seven months ago when you and Choi Yeonjun, slightly drunk off soju and beer, were giggling uncontrollably over the dumbest jokes in the dead of night with Beomgyu, his (now ex-) roommate, passed out on the floor. Turns out, shaky hands proved to be absolute dog shit when it came to drawing a straight line. You had silently panicked as you attempted to clean up the eyeliner that you've horrendously drawn on. You had really, really wanted him to like it.

Originally, it started off as a way to tease him, begging to apply eyeliner and some eyeshadow on his lids because you think he’d look gorgeous with them, to which his lips quirked up to, whining about how no man wants to be called ‘gorgeous’ and oh how emasculating it was. Plus, Yeonjun had an inkling your intentions were far less innocent than you let on.

When he finally surrendered around... the sixth time you bring the whole thing up, you admit that your idea of making him look like a clown and getting a good laugh out of his reaction moves itself out of your thoughts the moment he ushers you to scoot next to him and work your magic... whatever that meant.

But hey, it all worked itself out. Oddly enough, from that day on, you think putting makeup on Yeonjun quickly became one of your favorite pastimes beating your recent liking to duck herding (yes, it's a real thing you've spent way too much of your time investing in).

You like to think he enjoys it to some extent too, given the number of times he's let you practice on him, even if he would never admit it outright. But regardless of how relaxing you think it might be for him, he seems to go out of his way to make it as tedious as possible for you.

Every time you start working on his makeup, he fidgets and squirms like a restless child. He'll make funny faces just as you're about to apply eyeliner, or he'll suddenly sneeze, causing a puff of powder to explode into the air. Thankfully it doesn't last long, he either tires himself out or feels too bad to continue torturing your patience. Either way, you appreciate doing this for him a lot more when he's half asleep and relatively still.

Like now for example.

You're like, 99% sure he's dozed off. Considering he's spent the week cooped up in his apartment studying his ass off for two exams, it's not very surprising the all-nighters are catching up to him. Which is exactly why you're wondering the reason hes' chosen to go out to this party anyway.

His breathing is slow and steady, and his head lolls slightly to the side.

Just as you start to apply a touch of blush, his voice breaks the silence. "Don't make it look too obvious."

You’re caught off guard that he's in fact not asleep. "I won't."

"And no crazy blue tint."

You groan, pulling away from his face. Not this again. "C'mon, I only did that once and you've been holding it over my head for three months dude."

He cracks open one eye, peering at you with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. "You made me look like a smurf."

"It was artistic!" you splutter, not believing you're back to arguing about this again. "And you looked good!"

Suddenly, his mouth closes and he cocks his brow. Then his lips twitch into a suppressed smile.

He closes his eyes fully, trying to hide his amusement. "There's absolutely no way you just let that get into your head." you whisper, truly astonished at who you've chosen to be acquainted with for more than half of your life.

"Blah, blah, blah," he mutters, waving a hand dismissively before settling back into the pillow, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know I'm handsome, thank you for the reminder."

You open your mouth to retort, then close it…open it again…and close it once more, dumbfounded. Yeonjun's insufferable when it comes to anything that has to do with his face. His ego is practically impossible to pop.

But if you had to be completely honest with yourself, you don't blame him. You especially don't now as you try to ignore the fact that he's staring you down while you apply tint to his infuriatingly perfect shaped lips. You would never admit that one out loud.

Or the fact that you've thought about kissing Yeonjun a dozen times in the past. You seem to have some weird fixation on them. You would even go as far as to replace thought with imagine. Hell, you’ve been friends for ten years, it would’ve been odd if you hadn’t at least once...right?

It's normal.

("You're weird."

You snap your head around to him, frankly offended, "What?" Is there even a chance of enjoying a party with this nuisance by your side?

"Don't act dumb, you've been staring at my lips the entire night." Yeonjun tilts his head, puckering his lips, "Trying to kiss?"

You're horrified as you blink rapidly, your cheeks burning red, completely caught off guard. "N-no? How drunk are you?"

"That was a no with a question mark. We can try it out if you want." He shrugged, leaning in closer to you, of course with his lips annoyingly puckered and his eyes closed.

You're standing in the cramped kitchen of a typical frat house, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer and cheap cologne. The counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and discarded food wrappers.

Without thinking, you had grabbed the nearest drink and thrown it at him. The cold liquid had splashed across his chest, soaking his second favorite shirt. You know it's his second favorite because he's managed to pester you about it two years after this incident.)

You don’t necessarily like Yeonjun; hell no, you just absolutely appreciatively despise how well he's grown. He’s always looked cute—you distinctly remember the countless girls who handed you notes for him in elementary school or some who've befriended you in high school to try and get his number. You just never reckoned you’d be one of the girls checking him out.

As you finish applying the clear gloss to his lips, you can’t help but let your gaze linger. His eyes are closed and his lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks, and those lips— god damn it are they stupidly inviting.

You gulp down the irrational thoughts bubbling up, trying to focus on anything but the quickening of the beating in your chest. You’ve always been the one in control, the one who didn’t fall for his charms like everyone else. Is this a side effect of being under a dry spell for longer than a month? Being stuck in the unfavorable position of lusting over your long time best friend?

That must be it because when he flutters his eyes open, the world seems to pause. Just for a second, all that fills your thoughts is just how absolutely gorgeous he looks. It hurts.

“Done,” you whisper, your voice barely steady. "Went with the au naturelle look, per request."

“Thanks,” he replies softly, his smile warm and genuine. But then you're sitting there longer than you intend to and the silence stretches out longer than appropriate, and he snorts lightly. "What?"

You blink out of your daze, shaking your head, laughing airily. “Nothing." You clear your throat, awkward. "You just look... pretty.”

But then his reaction to that pulls you right back in your trance. For the first time, a cheeky reply doesn’t leave his lips. Instead, he’s silent and he looks…shy. That's new.

“Gorgeous,” you correct yourself, nodding. “You look pretty gorgeous.” Can you say that? You don't have a clue.

“Aren’t you just complimenting your makeup skills?” He teases, though it doesn’t nearly have the same effect as it usually does when his eyes are so doe-like, giving him a weirdly innocent look.

You would never describe Yeonjun as a puppy, but if you had to before this, he'd be more like an annoying chihuahua. Right now, he's anything but. He looks innocent. Innocent and beautiful, like a hybrid mix of an angelic, golden retriever. "Besides, maybe not the ideal impression I want to make tonight. Does that whole pretty boy thing work with women? We're probably not that advanced into the world yet. Hey! You're a woman so you should know; do you think it's going to be a little threatening or—"

His rambling fades out by like, the first word— you think you might as well just be under a spell. Because once again, you find your gaze's zeroing in on his plump, pink lips.

Fuck... should you just go for it?

Your heart races, pounding in your ears, and every rational thought slowly slips away to go knows where, leaving behind only the burning desire to close the distance between you.

Just as you lean in, a phone dings, shattering the moment. Yeonjun’s eyes flicker towards the sound, subtly breaking the spell.

He pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with a slight frown. “Taehyun said in the group chat that he’d pick us up.” He whispers. “Meaning I don’t have to drive or anything, yay.”

You smile in response, or try to as you try to gather your scattered thoughts.

“When’s he coming?”

“Uh, hold on. Let me ask.” You should move away, just a little further—you really, really should. Take your chance now and go to the bathroom to calm yourself down. It's the combination of Yeonjun being unfairly attractive, the fact that you haven't had sex in ages, and the proximity. If you eliminate one of those factors, you won't make the huge mistake you're so, so close to making.

But…you don’t want to. You don't want to ignore the burning desire of jumping his bones right this moment...for lack of better words.

“He hasn't even showered yet, Jesus christ.” Yeonjun snickers, looking down at his phone then back up at you. His squeaky laugh dies down pretty quickly when he notices you aren't sharing the humor, silently putting his phone face down on the bedside table. “What?” he says again. The shy expression’s back, his eyebrows tilt up and he looks like a damn kicked puppy…exactly your type.

Your eyes twitch and narrow with hesitation as you bite the inside of your cheeks; this feels wrong. You could stop it from going any further, keep your juvenile attraction from altering anything between you and Yeonjun. But when his tongue flicks out to wet his pink lips, you curse the gods for making the forbidden apple irresistibly tempting.

"Your teeth are pretty."

He furrows his brows, clearly taken aback. "That's an odd thing to—"

"I like it when you smile," you blurt out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"...Th...ank you?" He stammers, confusion mixed with curiosity in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, then out. "Yeonjun. Can I fuck you?"

He blinks. It’s silent as his eyes dart around like this is some elaborate prank, expecting a group of people to pop out with a camera in his face. You can see the visible gulp in his throat, his fingers hesitantly toying with the hem of your shorts, showing that he absolutely knew jack shit what to do with his hands. “Can you what?” He laughs nervously.

You've always imagined how it'd be like to kiss Choi Yeonjun.

And now that you’re experiencing it, all thoughts about this being a silly little thing you’ve entertained ever so rarely, hits the fan.

He feels against you like everything you imagined and more; the pillowy softness of his plump lips that feels so comfortable as they open slightly more each time it could lull you to sleep. His breathing that comes out in short gasps the harder you press yourself against him, having you dig your nails further into his face. His pitched whines drowned out by your feverish lips as you kiss him over and over again, feeling yourself get hooked by the minute.

You should stop. You should.

That’s what you plan to do when you finally pull away from the kiss, wipe your lips of any remnants of him, get off the bed and sprint the hell out of his house, then preferably find a way to blame it on female hormones or whatever. College guys never question that, do they?

But for the second time tonight, your mind draws blank and your eyes are stuck to his face, the slight smudge of the tint you applied and his heavy lidded eyes, his rising chest, the print of your nails showing up red on his cheeks…God, you’ve got absolutely no self control. “Um, do... that?” You breathe out.

You haven't entertained the idea that he might reject your advances, until now that is. And then what you've just done would probably be counted as assault. And it'd be too awkward to speak ever again and oh god, what the fuck have you done—

Your reverie's broken when Yeonjun suddenly leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer before he finally moves you to straddle his lap, the initial hesitation gone. The intensity of his response takes you by surprise, but you quickly melt into it, your body responding to him with an urgency that matches his own. The makeup kit gets knocked off the bed in your fervor, and neither of you care.

“Yeonjun. We—we won’t do this again right?” You ask, breathless, as you start to roll your hips slightly into him in an attempt of reliving that incessant need at your core.

“Yeah…yeah.” he sighs out, seemingly a goner when you increase even just a bit of friction.

“This is like, totally a one time thing that we’d just randomly bring up in a game of truth or dare as a fun anecdote and—and we’d be like those cool best friends with a cool little platonic relationship that’ve hooked up once. Totally normal.” you ramble, your resolve breaking as you grind against his rapidly growing boner. “Right?”

“Mm, totally.” he whines, his eyes heavy with lust. He looks completely consumed by the sensation he’s feeling and it fuels your desire for him tenfold. You kiss him again, your noses bumping against each other as you take his pretty lips in yours over and over again. You pull away slightly enough to catch your breath, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips, glistening in the dim light. Your faces are only inches apart, so close you can hear the gulp he takes, his breath warm and ragged against your skin.

"Whatever you say." he murmurs, his voice husky.

Oh. Oh.

This is totally unfair.

You brush your thumb gently across his bottom lip, savoring the way he shivers under your touch. "Whatever I say, huh?”

He nods slightly, “Yeah.”

You bite your lip before deciding to trail kisses down his jawline, your breath hot against his skin. You can feel his pulse quickening beneath your touch, the small gasp escaping his lips as you press a lingering kiss just below his ear is something you can only describe as maddening to your state. “You’re sensitive,” you note lightly before continuing your journey down his neck.

You gulp when he decides on finally gripping your ass, taking a bit of control on your pace. He rolls his head back slightly, chuckling, “Fuck, gonna make me nut in my pants if you keep goin’ like that.”

You need to hear more of the whining, more of his cute noises and more of his pathetic display. You want to hear him beg.

“Hands off.”

Clarity washes over his eyes a little more as he falters, his hands lessening its grip, blinking perplexed. The innocent looks back almost immediately and it drives you insane. “Keep them above your head, you don’t get to touch me unless I tell you to.”

You don’t wait for a reply before immediately sinking down to nip at his neck again, soothing the spot with your tongue, and he gasps. Yeonjun whines like earlier and it’s so …primal. Actually you don’t even think he would’ve protested in the first place because he seems entirely fine like this, completely at your disposal as his moans start to pick up intensity way quicker than you anticipated.

"Holy shit," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper. "You’re driving me crazy."

You smile against his skin, leaving one last kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes, which he visibly pouts at. You cup his cheeks. "I know. But don’t get too excited just yet.”

He lightly scoffs, “Way to stroke your ego.”

“Learned from the best.” you retort, your hands moving quickly to unbuckle his jeans.

His breath hitches as he watches you. “Are we really going... all the way?”

You pause, raising a brow, searching his eyes for any hesitation. “...Do you not want to?”

“Condoms in second drawer.”

—2 hours and 1 minute ago …[7:20 PM]

“P-please...please. Please. Move. Just a little." he hiccups the last plea, his tear stained face buried in your neck. "You're s-so fucking cruel," he says, his voice muffled.

"Sorry, I kinda like it when you're crying."

His breath shudders against your skin; you can feel his desperation, his need, and it sends a thrilling rush through you. You gently pull back, just enough to see his face, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his lips parted in a silent plea.

Slowly, deliberately, you let your hands trace the lines of his body, feeling the tension and desire coiled tightly beneath his skin. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the soft gasp that escapes him. "My jjunie's such a good boy," you drawl.

He trembles under your touch, his hands gripping you tighter, silently begging for more. You move your hips up slightly, just enough to elicit a strangled moan from him, the sound raw and needy.

"Do you like it when I make you cry?" you murmur against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper.

He nods frantically, unable to form words, his breath hot and ragged. The sight of him so vulnerable, so utterly at your mercy, ignites a fierce desire within you. You bite your lip, relishing the power you hold over him, the way his body responds to your every touch, every whisper.

"Are you usually like this?" you suddenly muster to ask, finding too much enjoyment playing with this poor boy.

He only whines as a response and you laugh, increasing your pace on his cock as you go up and down. "Y'know...so pliable."

Yeonjun bites back a sob of pain, feeling like he's going to die from the power he’s exerting to hold back. He grips onto the sheets, his fingers turning white from the strain. "Aw, look at you, poor baby. Am I going too slow?"

He nods again, more vigorously this time, drool seeping out the edge of his lips as his mouth hangs open, thinking you're going to spare him just a bit.

If you're going to do this once with him, you'd rather do anything but.

His face falls when you suddenly stop, his eyes blown wide, hair a disheveled mess; he looks absolutely debauched. This time more closely resembling a fallen angel. "Fuck me on your own if I'm so bad at this."

"I didn't- you're not bad at-" even when he tries to respond, he doesn't hesitate to try and switch positions, but you immediately put a stop to it, pressing him back down firmly. "No. I'll still be on top."

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, eyes wide. "Then... how?"

You shrug, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "Figure it out."

You gasp when he starts massaging your breasts, not expecting the sudden touch. "You're the worst," he moans against your tit once he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, suckling rather roughly while simultaneously raising his hips off the bed, struggling to slam his cock in a fitting pace.

His bangs fall over his eyes, and his lips are swollenly red from how hard he's bitten them. You would label his determination adorable if it wasn't for the fact that you currently had him stretching your pussy out.

"Yeah— but probably the best fuck you've had in a while." you manage to grit out.

"You humor yourself."

You can't take him too seriously when his words are so slurred and barely coherent with how eager he is to bury himself between your tits and lather them with his spit.

"You're such a dog," you purr, "C'mon, don't give up on me doggy. I can tell you're just desperate to let it all out."

He groans, sucking harder as he starts up again, frantically fucking up into you. You can tell hes already a goner when his eyes start to roll to the back of his head, the moans of your name short and incessant.

"Don't get dumb on me already."

He whispers sorry's over and over again, nodding his head.

"Fuck--f-fuck, why're you doing this to me?” his breath hitches, whining like a baby. What you're completely unaware of as you get lost in your pleasure— the last thing Choi Yeonjun wants is to get out of this looking like a desperate bitch. Especially to you.

But he simply can't help it.

Hes' never been under these circumstance. Hes never sounded like this for any girl, hes never let himself get this vulnerable. And for it to be during sex? It's the closest thing to a nightmare.

But he can't dwell on those thoughts when you lean over to his ear, showering him with praises on how pretty he looks and oh how well he's doing. That he's just getting you so fucking close.

When you pull away again, the only thing that's on his mind is just how...pretty you look.

“B-bet you tell other guys that all the time,” his smirk twitches at that, getting himself worked up.

You tilt your head. “Calling them pretty?” you implore, rolling his nipples between your fingers just to elicit that perfect reaction from him; he gives you just as much, half gasping half moaning against his better will, “A few, yeah” you tease.

That doesn't seem to be the right thing to say because his face immediately falls and your intention of having light banter goes to the back burner as you slightly panic, feeling bad and kissing him in attempt of making it up to him non verbally. But that doesn't do the job because the moment you pull away, he's still frowning.

You sigh, rubbing your thumb on his cheek affectionately, "But you're the one I'm most honest about."

He doesn't hesitate to lean into the familiar touch, and you can't help but coo at how cute he's acting. "You mean that?"

You press your forehead to his, your breath mingling with his, and nod. "Mhm, the prettiest."

That does it.

Slowly, he starts to thrust upward, trying to match the rhythm he had previously set. You can feel his desperation, his need to please you, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"That's it," you purr, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Show me how badly you want it baby."

He groans, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside you with each thrust. His hands find their way to your hips, guiding you to move with him. You can feel the tension in his body, every muscle working to bring you both closer to the edge. You purposefully clench around his swollen cock and he buries his head against you again. You let him as you thread through his hair.

"You feel so good, you smell so good, you—" he breathes, his voice trembling with the effort. "Please, let me—fuck, cum please—c-can't hold it any longer."

You press your lips to his neck, sucking lightly as you murmur, "Not yet, baby. I want to feel you beg for it."

His thrusts become more frantic under you, the sound of skin slapping against skin being proof, his breath coming out hot and ragged against your skin. "Please," he begs sweetly, his voice a desperate whisper. "I need it so bad. Please, let me cum. I'll do anything."

Your own desire reaches a fever pitch as you watch him unravel beneath you. "Anything?" you tease.

"Anything," he repeats, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with a mixture of desperation and adoration.

With a wicked smile, you finally relent, moving your hips in sync with his thrusts, the friction building to an unbearable intensity. "Cum for me," you command, your voice low and sultry. "Now."

His body tenses, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finally lets go, the release hitting him with shuddering force. The sight of him coming undone beneath you pushes you over the edge, your own climax ripping through you, leaving you both breathless and trembling.

"Holy shit."

You chuckle, collapsing to his side, both of you now staring at the ceiling. But slowly, the realization starts to set in.

You just...had sex with Choi Yeonjun. Whatever bliss you were stuck in, dissipates as nut clarity takes over. You just fucked your best friend. And even worse, you dirty talked. Suddenly, you feel shame and embarrassment course through your bloodstream, making your cheeks burn and your stomach twist.

"D-did you... like, cum?"

You avoid eye contact, preferring the staring contest you're having with his stupid ceiling as you wrap your naked body with his sheets. "Yep."

An awkward silence hangs between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, counting the imperfections in the paint.

"Splendid," he finally says, the word hanging in the air.

Splendid...splendid?

You burst out in a fit of giggles, unable to hold it back. The look of disbelief on your face is mirrored by the amusement in his eyes. "Splendid? Really?" you manage to say between giggles, your body shaking with laughter.

He blushes, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "What? I use big words when I'm nervous."

"Splendid's a big word to you?"

"Okay, low blow."

"Man, just pass me my clothes," you laugh, shifting to sit up on the bed. The blanket is draped over your chest, and you look at him expectantly as he fetches the ones that got on the floor.

He watches you, a slight smile playing on his lips, but confusion clouds your eyes. What's he expecting? "Turn around."

He looks even more puzzled as he says, "But we just had sex. Like penis in vagina sex. I saw it all."

"Yeah, and never again, Yeonjun," you retort, still giggling as you reach out for your clothes. "Just turn around."

He rolls his eyes but obliges. "Fine, fine. I’m turning around."

You quickly gather your clothes, slipping into them while keeping an eye on his back. "Damn, so that really was just a one-time thing."

"Mhm," you hum, then get off his bed fully dressed to go to his bathroom and at least make your hair look presentable. As you run a brush through your hair, you glance at your reflection, shaking your head at the state you're currently in.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun is still in bed, naked and absolutely spent, watching you as you step out of the bathroom, heading to his closet to fetch him some pants since ...there's a big wet spot on the ones he was going to wear to the party. As you rummage through the closet, something catches your eye, and you pull out a pair of familiar bunny ears.

Your bunny ears from high school.

You come out of the closet, holding the ears up with a look of surprise. "You still have this?"

Yeonjun glances over, his eyes widening in recognition before he breaks into a sheepish grin. "Oh, those. Yeah, I found them a while back and couldn't bring myself to throw them away."

You break into a grin, walking over to the bed, playfully placing the bunny ears on his head. "You look ridiculous," you laugh, pulling out your phone to take pictures of him.

He groans but doesn’t stop you, knowing it's futile. "Great, now you're going to have blackmail material for life."

You snap a few photos, giggling at how silly he looks. "Oh, absolutely. These are going to come in handy."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly as the ears flop around. "Just promise you won't show them to anyone. My reputation can't handle it."

You laugh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. "Don't worry, these are just for me."

See?

You and Yeonjun are just fine. Was it a little awkward the first few seconds? Sure. But there's absolutely nothing in the world that can get in the between of you two.

—present …[9:24 PM]

Noticing how much more comfortable he seems now, everything else fades into background noise— he’s almost right back to his usual self. Something about that bothers you as you take a big gulp of your drink, feeling the burn as it slides down your throat. Suddenly, you stand up, blinking away the dizziness. “I need to sober up. Hyejoon, come with me to the bathroom.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.”

It’s a hassle to find the bathroom, but when you do, you quickly lock the door behind you and your friend. You rush to the mirror, staring at your reflection before turning on the water to wash your face.

What’s wrong with you? Is there something wrong with you? It must be the alcohol.

“You feeling alright?” she whispers, her brows furrowing in concern.

You splash your face with freezing water over and over again, trying to snap out of it. The one question that plagues your thoughts over and over again feels dooming; did you make a mistake?

“Hey,” she pulls you back to face her. “Are you okay?”

You stare at her in silence for a bit until you end up cracking a firm smile, “Yeah, just needed to get my head out of the gutter.”

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #sub!idol #yeonjun smut #txt x reader

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heartkaji · 2 months

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‪‪❤︎‬ TEEN ROMANCE !

(n) — bllk boys & their kind of love. includes : isagi yoichi, reo mikage , nagi seishiro , oliver aiku

ISAGI YOICHI ! — romeo & juliette.

dating yoichi is sweat-soaked skin pressed against sweat-soaked skin on the mink fur rug of your bedroom floor carpet. isagi is yawn slash yearning—he kisses you silly with honey on his tongue & your back pressed against your bedroom floor with thighs wrapped around like ivy on his waist. there are bruises on your neck & cherry lipstick stains his cheeks & every minute or two you have to pull away because ‘i swear i hear my mom coming up the stairs.’ even so he nibbles at your neck & traces comets on your skin because ‘don’t worry pretty, she’ll never find us out.’ your heart’s in your throat & you swear the footsteps are getting louder but all you can do is swallow your chest & pray. you hug yoichi a little tighter because unlike romeo & juliet, your story will not end in split hearts & summertime sadness.

REO MIKAGE ! — skin & a country club

super rich kids make nothing but fake friends but the ghost of reo’s lips on yours is oh-so-sloppy yet oh-so-real. his mouth tastes like raspberry syrup & strawberry chambourd & when his palms slip below the seam of your skirt you think he is grace. you know that once the party’s over & it’s time to leave the yacht you’ll go back from star crossed lovers to trust fund babies who long for something more than riches & bloodline; so you tug at his hair & guide his hold to your hips in hopes he’ll hold you tighter & never let you go.

NAGI SEISHIRO ! — lovelorn lethargy

nagi seishiro is lazy lover & lazy kisses & lazy touch on your waist, neck, everywhere. he smells like sea foam deluxe & cotton elixir but you want to crush his bloody throat between your palms because ’one more round angel, i swear it.’ it was one more round thirty minutes ago / an hour ago / an hour and a half ago & you’re only a girl so you’ve decided you’ve suffered enough. you have your coat on your shoulders & mary janes grace your feet & you’re about to leave but your waist feels warm & there’s a weight on your neck—‘m’sorry bunny, i’m all done now, yeah ?’

OLIVER AIKU ! — sex & a daydream

last week he left scars on your back / this week he left scars on your neck / next week he’ll leave scars on your heart. you hate aiku & his smart mouth but you love the way it swells & blossoms with peach smeared lip stick when you bite his lip & kiss him silly. aiku is fox teeth ripping through peach flesh—he tastes like brown sugar & warm honey in a wheat field but you can smell carolina herrera & you know it’s not yours. your heart bleeds up your throat & you should push him away but his hand’s in your hair & his palms grip your knees. you’ve got all the time in the world—you might as well kiss him now & curse him later.

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theminecraftbee · 7 months

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“Mumbo, I think Grian and Gem are possessed!”

Scar bursts through the door of the iron farm is building rather suddenly. This is indeed rather impressive, on account of the iron farm not having a door. Mumbo wonders if Scar put on there for dramatic effect, or if bursting into a space while shouting manifests door-like qualities, or maybe if he forgot he’d placed an entirely unnecessary door down. It’s almost as unnecessary as the iron farm, given Grian still hasn’t forgiven him for the whole ‘trying to see how far he can make Grian go to trade permits’ thing, and—

“Mumbo, you aren’t paying attention! I think Grian and Gem are possessed!” Scar says, distressed.

“What? Er, I mean, yes, we’d all rather noticed, hadn’t we?” Mumbo says. “Really don’t know why you’re panicking about it. Bit old, that news is.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!” Scar says, making a dramatic hand motion. “It’s terrible! My builds, Mumbo! My beautiful train! I live right next to both of them! Oh, oh, my beautiful train!”

Mumbo squints. “Well that’s a bit rude. Grian was possessed last season and you were perfectly fine putting your base next to him then.”

“It was different, Mumbo! Oh, sure, he had a rock that ate bases, but not with him! And it only barely moved without asking. And the Rift, well, that didn’t move! That didn’t eat parts of my build! Mumbo, do you know how long it takes to make a train design real enough that builder’s magic will actually take to it these days? Standards are so high!”

“Ah. Is the ocean eating bases now? Because if so I admit that’s a little concerning.” Mumbo says, mentally trying to decide how to heist the prismarine permit into Grian’s inventory so he doesn’t have to deal with a self-destroying guardian farm. That would just be silly. He can destroy and rebuild a slime farm every other day, sure, but a guardian farm? Where would he keep the sponges!

Scar has conspicuously stopped talking, Mumbo realizes.

“Um,” Mumbo says.

“I said, why would the ocean eat bases?” Scar helpfully repeats.

“Well, you just said the thing possessing Grian and Gem might eat your train,” Mumbo says.

“What? Why would I be talking about the ocean? Mumbo, you said this was old news!” Scar says.

“That’s because it is! Gem was talking about getting the ocean to possess her even before we got here! It was her whole plan, some kind of spooky boat thing! I was really quite surprised you’d missed it!” Mumbo says.

“Why would I be talking about that? Psssh. That’s old news,” Scar says.

“That’s what I said!” Mumbo says.

“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re bringing our fishy overlords into this. I was talking about the snails.”

Mumbo’s thoughts crash to a blessedly silent halt.

“The what?”

“The snails that are eating everything. I think they’re possessing Grian and Gem.”

“There are snails that are eating everything?”

“Yes! That’s why I’m panicking!”

“Well great, now I’m panicking too! Why didn’t you just say so?”

“I did!”

Mumbo looks back at his iron farm. “Scar, what if they eat this before I realize how pointless it all was? Snails are small! I wouldn’t even notice until the zombie turned into a little pile of smoldering flesh! Why are Grian and Gem possessed by snails, they were supposed to be possessed by the ocean!”

“I don’t know,” Scar says. “Mumbo. Mumbo you have to help.”

“How! I’m not qualified for this!” Mumbo says. “People always assume, oh you’ve known Grian forever, surely you’re qualified, but I’m not! I have a weak will, Scar, he doesn’t even have to bother possessing me before I go along with his schemes! And Gem is possessed too? Count me right out.”

Scar frowns. “Oh. I didn’t think you’d stop Grian. I wanted your help getting our own snails to be possessed by.”

“Why?”

Scar thinks for a moment. Scar shrugs.

“Yeah, you know what, fine,” Mumbo says. “Makes more sense than this iron farm. Um, I guess we build a snail shrine now? I have to say, very strange that this whole cult thing keeps happening to me.”

The two of them put their heads together and start planning. If they’re all going to be overtaken by snails, Mumbo figures, best to get a head start. Maybe then he’ll even get an excuse to start the unnecessary gold farm in the process.

#hermitcraft #a bee fic #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #SO HEAR ME OUT: what if the ocean is a red herring #haha. red herring.#anyway this was ALSO an excuse to write the dumbest scar and mumbo dialogue imaginable #hermitfic

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tojisun · 11 months

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i saw this and was IMMEDIATELY reminded of biker!simon.

like imagine reader casually sneaking her hands up and palming his torso oh lord.

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNkyRyKB/

HE IS SO??? RESPONSIVE??? MY STOMACH FLUTTERED???? no because u are right!!! that is sooo biker!simon

AND!!! CHASE ATLANTIC??? YEAH OH MY GOD YEAH!! i thought biker!simon would be more into atmospheric rock but i can so see him jamming to chase atlantic while out on a ride. got the walls on repeat or right here or (and just imagine him thinkin about u as he plays this song) church teeheee

and beloved anon omg?? calling my silly lil drabbles magic got me swooninnn. u after my heart sweet luv?? bc u can have it rn <33

!! suggestive - minors dni; groping in public; somewhat body worship // im sorry for how short this is :(( hope u would still like it my luvs

you’re handsy today, simon muses, feeling his blood thrum at the slow glide of your hands along his hips. they’re just gentle touches with no purpose – mindless swirls of your acrylics against his sweats, your fingers spread out on his thighs and simon almost coos at just how small your hands look against his legs.

simon loves it when you’re like this – tits pressed against his solid back, your hands lax as they find purchase on his hips. it took you a while to trust yourself to hold instead of just wrapping your arms around his middle, and simon thinks how he would never want to go back to those days when your hands aren’t mapping his body.

because there is something so addicting to the way you touch him – soft. gentle. reverent.

he melts into you, his eyes fluttering with every slide because, and god simon wonders if he can ever find the words to tell you so, it feels like your perfect hands are cradling all that he is – scars and bruises and once-jaded heart and all.

he groans when your hands dip closer to his pelvis, massaging at the crinkles between his thighs and his hips. your hold gains strength, it gains power, but simon feels it all so gently, like you are showing him the parts of his body that you adore.

he feels choked up, overwhelmed all of a sudden.

you tap twice on the edges of his lap – can i?

simon lets go of the handlebar just long enough to tap twice on the back of your palm – go on.

and so you do: your hands drag along the inside of his thighs, greedy as they tease his parted legs, your palms warm as they hitch closer, higher. even more daring.

simon moans, his head falling back and bumping against your helmet when your hand finally falls on top of his chub, the pads of your fingers swirling against the sensitive head of it. he bares his neck at the quiet pleasure, the drags of ecstasy crawling in an almost muted way as you continue to just paw at him softly.

there is no buildup of desperation or carnal lust licking up along his veins, just sensual touching.

worshipping.

you stroke him through his sweats, your hand turning into a loose fist to cup his rising tent. a groan reverberates from his chest before it slips from his lips, and he wonders if you felt it with how much you are pressed to him. if your body could feel just how much you affect him – your dauntless supremacy unquestioned even as simon navigates the roads.

he feels you tap twice onto his thigh again – more?

and simon pretends he isn’t shaking as he responds with his two taps – please.

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #suns #actuallyhiswife #ask #GOD IM KEENING IN NEED THIS IS TOO GOOD THANK U FOR SENDING IT IN

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shadowbriar · 1 month

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Diego Hargreeves - Patches

Pairing : Diego Hargreeves x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 1.2k Warning : None. Notes : This might be the introduction of a story I'm working on. I cannot guarantee that I'll have the commitment to continue until it's end so don't have too much hope for this. I am open if you have any The Umbrella Academy requests at the moment, so do hit me up! If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

He got eight of them.

For the longest time in her life, she’s never understood the silly yet cruel joke life cursed upon her. To be able to heal everyone but herself, no matter the wound or injury one might have, she’ll cure it in no time, so long as it wasn’t inflicted on her.

Once, it wasn’t this pathetic nor lonely. She had her brothers and sisters to weather to storm through. There were Pogo and Mum to share cookies and stories with. It’s been years since she felt such comfort and to have to drag her feet back to the house that had turned itself from a warm home into a prison before the last days of her departure is surely weighing on her heart.

“Welcome home, dear.”

Her heart was filled with warmth once the familiar motherly voice greets her. The corners of her lips curved into a big smile as she dropped her bags, running to the dearly missed figure, “Mum.”

It took the bot a couple seconds to return the embrace. No doubt that she’s been lacking a lot of upgrades ever since she left. When the two broke the hug, she stared at the ageless caregiver with fulfilled eyes as it stared back at her with its bright smile, blank and not blinking. This might have been the most home she could feel while she’s here.

“You’re not supposed to come,” another voice echoes from the stairs.

“Diego, that’s not very nice.” Mum scolded lightly “Your sister has returned to us.”

The boy showed a thin smile to the bot, patting her lightly on the shoulder, “I think Pogo was looking for you, Mum.”

With a slight nod, the android excused herself out of the room.

Now if Grace’s presence lightened her heart, the sight of this black suited man certainly plummets it.

“You look awful,” She greets, noticing the scars that litter his face “Surely couldn’t find a better nurse than me now, can you?”

“Please,” Diego snorted “You’re more of a deadweight than a nurse, if ever.”

Ouch.

She lets out an exasperated exhale, folding her hands in front of her chest in defence, “Well, I’m not here for you and I don’t take joy either on coming back to this circus, so if you could just get yourself off that non-existent high horse—”

Before she could finish her words, Diego had already walked away as if she wasn’t there to begin with. His back becomes the abundant evidence that whatever bad blood they had years ago is still staining his skin.

It wasn’t always like this, him and her. In fact, they were the inseparable two growing up. If Luther had Allison, Diego had her. The many times she healed his wounds had led them to grow closer as the years went by. He was the one with the most injury to heal, after all. The most careless in battle out of the eight, never backing down from a close combat. Though he would always come out triumphant, a little cut here and there would be something he never escaped from.

“Don’t mind him, he’s giving us all the sour comments,” Allison said as she linked her arms to her “I’m glad to see you.”

She smiles at her sister, squeezing her hand slightly in reassurance, “As I am to see you.”

—-

“You should really learn how to dodge a punch, Diego,” She says as she runs her thumb through his bruise “One of these days you’re going to go home and I may not be able to heal you.”

“Is that a loss on your part or my part?”

Her eyebrow rose, purposely pressing on his bruise without healing it that he winces a little, “Or maybe I just won’t heal you, that’s definitely a loss on your part.”

“As if you’ll ever do that.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Diego tries his best to bite the grin but it proved to be an even harder task than to back out of a fight. He stares at her fondly, finding the jitters in his stomach to amplify the longer he stares yet it feels impossible for him to break the contact. Perhaps she casts a little of her magic everytime she heals him.

“Don’t stare at me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like Klaus stares at a bottle of gin,” She says, now examining his other cuts “Like I stare at Mum’s cookies.”

Diego smiles.

“Like Luther stares at Allison.”

“Would it be so bad if I stare that way?”

The wake from the unintended nap hurts her head. Her bed is much smaller than she last remembered with her feet slightly dangling on the edge and how the pillows have certainly lost their fluffiness. Everything in her room stays the same yet at the same time, everything has changed.

—-

Diego defeatedly threw himself to the sofa. He sighs, his knuckles cracking as he tries to ball his fists. The tidal wave of emotions were beating him black and blue in silence. It feels as if he was swallowed by a giant blackhole with no light nor guidance to get out of.

There was no need for him to be rude to her, he knew that. He didn’t want to do it, but seeing her back in their house, hugging and talking to Grace, hurts. It took him years to try and ignore the ghost of her. She was the one force that would fuel his mornings and ease him to sleep at night. She was the one soul that he would always go to seek refuge. She was the one that he would lay his life on the line for without a second of doubt.

But he had to lose it all after one stupid night.

A night that he would never be able to grow out of, both from the horror and the guilt. Diego shut himself out for days following that terrifying night, locking his doors and skipping meals as he tries to think of all the what-if scenarios.

What if he stayed home that night?

What if he forced her to stay home that night?

What if he saved her before she saved him?

What if?

Mindlessly, he reaches for a knife on his left chest. It was a stranger to the rest of his knives collection. Compared to the polished lightweight knives he tucked in his suit, this one butter knife was rather dull. It would serve no harm to anyone, yet he kept it closest to his heart as if it was his most prized possession.

Diego stared at the knife. His brows knitted, examining the item as if it held the answer to all of his questions. Or perhaps some guidance. Anything to help him keep his sanity and not lose the plot now that she’s back in his life. Was she staying or was she leaving for the night? He wasn’t sure. But even if she is leaving, the hours he’d have to spend with her would suffocate nonetheless.

His thumb traces the engraving on the knife’s handle. A little trace of an infinite loop that had somehow become his stress outlet: the number eight.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x oc #luther hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy scenario #the umbrella academy scenarios #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy angst #diego hargreeves angst #diego hargreeves fluff

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thebookbutterfly · 5 months

Note

Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

#bbrequestlist #sandor clegane x reader #sandor x reader #sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #got #game of thrones #sandor clegane x you #the hound #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #no use of y/n #hurt/comfort #whump #request #banners by cafekitsune

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acotarxreader · 3 months

Text

Honey

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Azriel frequents the hotel in Hewn City that you manage with his many lovers, a source of your constant teasing until Azriel can't replace the way he feels about you with anyone else.

Warnings: Silly, fluff, banter, back and forth hehe, a lil slut shaming moment

A/N: Hello friends, it was recently my birthday and now I am travelling in celebration but not before put out this is silly little cute fic, originally titled Heartbreak Hotel but I think Honey just fitted so much more, you'll of course see why. I'm working on a second party of Mirror but still haven't decided if it's ready or not yet ✨

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Your legs laid one over the other beneath the large oak desk, one-foot tip tapping, the sound of the large grandfather clock’s beating heart filling the lobby. Your head rested on your hands between the shadows cast by large stacks of unchecked paperwork. The ring of the well-rung bell forced you upright in your chair once again as a cloaked figure entered the hotel accompanied by a bubbly, bright female who seemingly couldn’t believe she had been chosen. You scoffed at the two of them, the male approaching you familiarly while the female absentmindedly twirled her hair by the stairs.

“One room please” he spoke quietly through his hood, a scarf obscuring his lower face.

“No problem, here are your keys, one for you and one for Honey over there”

“My name isn’t Honey?” the female tilted her head, her doe eyes sparkling at you before she found her attention taken by the bowl of centuries-old sweets on the coffee table of the lobby.

“Oh Honey, not like it matters” You smirked quietly to yourself for only him to hear. You offered the two keys between your fingers, his scarred hands taking them softly before he turned on his heels.

“Have fun Honey”

“Why does she keep calling me Honey?” the female asked him as he practically swept her up the stairs ahead of him, not bothering to answer her. You returned to your resting position, eyes landing on the booming clock to begin your timer.

Sometime later Azriel came quickly down the stairs, solo, you grinning from behind your desk at the sight of a slightly dishevelled warrior.

“Must have been chatty, two hours and…seven minutes, new record” You chuckled, your palm flat waiting to receive the key.

“You’re very judgemental, it’s bad for your skin” he teased.

“Keeps my heart young though” He smiled through the scarf covering the bottom half of his face, the corners of his eyes lifting to match yours.

“I come here for discretion, perhaps I have overstayed that courtesy”

“Whatever, you know you love me” You batted your eyelashes in faux obsession that was very rapidly becoming less and less faux.

“I tolerate you, honey” You scoffed at his reply, taking the key, his hazel eyes examining you closely. It had been close to a year since Azriel had begun to show up occasionally with his Hewn City conquests. The hotel you managed was on the very outskirts of Hewn City, at the very limits of the mountain, too far and too cold for most to trek to.

“Whatever” you stood, slogging your bag across your back as the sound of another Fae shuffling in the background got louder. You slid over the desk with the agile grace that comes with years of practice, landing at Azriel’s feet

“And where are you off to?”

“Home” You strode past him, the female taking over your shift sank into your chair without so much as a goodbye. You strolled into the dark streets of the enclave in the mountain, conscious of the shadows that followed you.

“Unbefitting of a lady to travel in these streets alone”

“Unbefitting of a gentleman to comment” You shot back at him, a few steps trailing you from behind.

“If you’re going to murder me, at least walk beside me until you decide the right time, the hovering is creepy honey” He quickly closed the distance he held from behind you, meeting your side with a curiosity he couldn’t quash.

“How I do love our time together…ehh” You stopped still at his words, turning to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Really? It’s been like a year and you don’t know my name”

“I hadn’t realised such a thing would bother you, honey” The corner of his eyes turned up, his deep smirk masked behind his handkerchief.

“You bother me” You lied, striding once more through the icy winter streets, the mountain's deep core working overtime to shield from the arctic temperatures on the other side of the shell.

“At least I know you think about me, honey”

“Yeah, I think of how your money is gonna free me from here” You half laughed, feeling Azriel stop alongside you again.

“You want to leave here?” He quizzed, your gaze turning back to see his slumping shoulders, wings tightly folded in to be kept from the cold and potential threats.

“Why would I stay? For the company?” You scoff before continuing your stride, passers-by watching you with eagerness, waiting for a moment to pounce and thinking otherwise when noticing Azriel.

“There are plans to improve the City” He jogged once again to walk parallel to you.

“Are they levelling it?” You smirked, gaining an equal expression from the Shadowsinger.

“What do you suggest, honey, other than a large bang?”

“Not my job, that’s the job of the pompous assholes that live upstairs” You shrugged, unaware of your company, Azriels grin deepening.

“Perhaps” his hands rested behind his back, striding along in levelheaded confidence you matched with your casual self-assured nature.

“This is me” You swung your bag to your stomach, digging through its contents for your keys, Azriel inspecting your home. The towering building matched its surrounding counterparts, paint peeling, stones splitting as the structure stretched into the thick boulder it was cut into. An elderly female watched the both of you from her living room window of the ground floor apartment, eyes scanning for any information she could gather on Azriel, he felt oddly bare at the sight.

“Ignore her, she’s as old as the dust that falls from the stalactites-” You laughed, noticing Azriels slight discomfort “-she’s probably just judging me for bringing a male near my home”

“Ah so your judgemental state is a taught behaviour” You shoved him playfully from the pavement step.

“Is yours?” You laughed, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, unsure as to why you couldn’t walk away yet.

“A consequence of my pompous surroundings” You tilted your head in question to his joking reply.

“Walk with me some more?” He offered his elbow for you to take, your hands finding your hips.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” He laughed, scarf slipping slightly.

“You come to the hotel with a steady string of females, pay and leave. I’m not going to join the string of females who wonder where their knight with the dazzling eyes is gone the next morning”

“Aw you think my eyes are dazzling?” You shoved his obscured goofy face fully from the step, Azriel unable to keep himself from laughing.

“I think that it's a wonder no one has strangled you with that scarf yet” You began walking without full consciousness of the decision, Azriel happily following suit.

“It helps me to remain mysterious”

“Helps you look stupid” You chuckled, arms folding into your chest to fight off the cold. Azriel slipped from his jacket without your full awareness. You leapt slightly at the feeling of it shrouding your shoulders, the intoxicating scent of night-chilled mist and cedar brushing against your senses. You fought away the strange feeling crossing your chest, settling on the warmth of the wool being the cause and nothing else.

“Are these the moves you put on all your females?”

“Oh, if I was using the moves, you’d know all about it, honey”

“YN”

“You’d know all about it, YN, honey” You rolled your eyes continuing on your course with no final destination. You both walked around in a new sense of comfortable silence peppered with small snippets of one another's lives until you returned once again to the stoop outside your home.

“I should probably head in, I have work again in a few hours” The night getting away from the two of you.

“Of course” Azriel smiled softly beneath the scarf, it showing in his eyes until they landed on the elderly female in the window, still surveying her kingdom of this long-forgotten street.

“Until next time Smokey”

“Smokey?” You just nodded to the shadows that had appeared around his legs, his dear friends who he normally kept away from him during his escapades had sensed their master's warmth and comfort around you and believed it was time to come back to him, that he was home.

“Ah yes…until next time Honey” You just smiled softly at him before turning and heading up the steps, Azriel still fixated on you.

“Oh your jacket” You span around to return down the steps with the heaven-sent fabric.

“Oh no, I must have forgotten it, I guess I’ll have to come back for it” He laughed, stopping you in your tracks as he gave a small wave and began his walk back to his family in the Court of Nightmares. You shook your head side to side and found yourself laughing, eyes landing on your elderly neighbour who remained watching.

“Mind your business Mags!” You called towards her knowing look before slipping inside.

—-------------------------------

Over the next number of weeks, Azriel made his usual pilgrimage to the hotel, but unlike normal, he was now accompanied by no one else. He arrived at the beginning of your shift to keep you company and found himself walking you home after each clock-out. He resigned himself to keep his identity obscured, for fear it would send you running in fear or disgust. You spoke freely of your ideas to change the City for the better and your plans for the future, the other side of the mountain. Azriel found himself more forthcoming with the details of his life, identifiable clues excluded still however. Your walks around Hewn City were quickly becoming both of your favourite times in the week, missing one another when you were gone, denying it when you were together.

“And then I locked him out of the cabin naked” Your laugh at Azirel’s story practically filled the streets of the city.

“I’ve only heard brutal stories about the Illyrian mountains but I swear you make it sound like an enjoyable time”

“I have brutal stories too” He joked, your smile faltering.

“Tell me those” Azriel looked towards your soft expression, it glowing in the faelights of the usual route home you took together.

“My brothers and I, were torn apart from one another during the Blood Rite, forced to find our way to one another, we did unspeakable things to reach the summit, I’m afraid I’ve done a lot of unspeakable things in my life” his gaze fixated on the cobblestone in front of him as he walked, fighting away memories of a time he tirelessly tried to disown from his mind. You looked at his furrowed face before instinctively finding your hand in his, lacing your fingers through his deepest insecurity, his mind screaming at him to let go but his heart wanting nothing of the sort.

“What you do in survival shouldn’t decide who you are in the sun”

“I like that” He found a subtle smile grow beneath the scarf again, his hand squeezing yours to test if the contact was all a lie.

“Unless you’ve like killed a puppy or something then you can burn in that same sun” You laughed, Azriel’s hazel eyes rolling in their socket.

“And tell me who are you in the sun, Honey?”

“I don’t know, mountain, remember?” You gestured up to the solid ceiling miles and miles above you, Azriel shaking his head in apology, an idea crossing his mind, stopping you both on your stroll.

“Cover your eyes” You scoffed but found yourself obeying him, your hand leaving his left a chill in him he wished to smother again. He took a deep breath before snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you tight to his side, an electric pulse shooting down the two of you at the closer contact. Azriel looked to his shadowy friends, a now frequent attendee of your time together unable to pull against the magnetic force you applied to them. He swirled the two of you in shadow, pulling you through the space he created until you were taken from where you stood to land with him gently on the top of the mountain, in the Moonstone Palace. The whole motion was so painfully gentle, you felt as though you hadn’t moved from the spot you left. Azriel stood in front of you, pulling your hands delicately from your face, the wash of light hitting you causing you to squint.

“Open Honey” His serene tone filled you with the same warmth the rising sun provided. Your mouth hung agape as you looked through the glass of the gigantic windows on the top of the Night Court, the sun beginning to stretch its limbs over the gloriously harsh landscape. You rattled a nervous laugh out, looking quickly from Azriel back to the astonishing view. You found your feet taking a step back, the sudden vastness of the space in front of you almost suffocating in its airiness.

“You’re as beautiful in the sun as you are in the shadow” Azriel spoke with a level of apprehension he hadn’t felt around you before, afraid he’d overwhelmed you into a state of trepidation.

“I-I-I” You couldn’t manage the words, the sprawling scene stealing syllables as they formed.

“Who’s that?” Both you and Azriel shook in alarm at the voice, Azriel thinking his family were in Velaris. Feyre stood at the end of the very long dining room looking between the both of you.

“Azriel?” Your head flew in his direction at the first mention of his name you had heard, he balled his fists at his side, cringing his face upward before releasing the tension again. Azriel pulled the scarf that had become like his very own flesh from his face. You took another step back from him, his face rivalling the staggering beauty of the other side of the glass.

“Hello?” Feyre tried again with a laugh, your head darting back to her as she closed in, you sank immediately to the ground in a deep bow.

“YN, it's okay” Azriel whispered down to you, you unsure if you would faint on your way back to your full height or not.

“Ah YN, the lovely lady who keeps our equally lovely Az away from us” She reached your shadow, a hand outstretched to help you stand again. You shot upright in front of her, unable to find any words.

“I thought you were at home Feyre?”

“And I thought I was High Lady and could go wherever I want Az?-” She laughed in reply, your eyes boring into the ground in practised submission “-Don’t worry YN, we’re not all pompous assholes like your dear Az” your head shooting back to hers, a playful smile decorating her delicate features.

“My-Your-I-I”

“Feyre, if you could give us a moment” She only nodded to the Spymaster before making her exit as quietly as she had made her entrance.

“Are you okay, Honey?” Azriel spoke with the candour of someone trying to talk a baby deer into not running away from a hunter. His uncharacteristically shaky hand reached for you before he guided you to sit in a grand dining room chair, your brain fogging slightly from the altitude. Azriel crouched afore you, his hand not leaving yours as it landed in your lap, your eyes searching the hazel eyes you were learning to call home.

“I-I can’t bel- I don’t understa- We were grossly undercharging you at the hotel” You managed, Azriel’s laughing singing in your ears, his thumb tracing circles around the back of your hand.

“We can rectify that I’m sure”

“Are these- Are these-”

“The mountains above Hewn City? Yes, this is a small sliver of the world I want to show you” He beamed up, your utter shock dripping away as the return of the comfort he gave you flooded back, his shadows swaddling your ankles.

“I was going to say are these the moves but yeah sure let's go with that” You found your panicked laughter changing to match the lightness washing through your chest, Azriel chuckling.

“You’re the first female I’ve brought home…probably obvious by Feyre’s reaction”

“Fe-Feyre, the High Lady of Night Court, you call Feyre, like she’s anyone”

“You should hear what I call the Lord of the Night Court” His joking tone pushed away the draining colour in your face, the flush of unadulterated happiness returning.

“What is happening right now?” Your laughter was almost hysterical, Azriel stood again, pulling you up to his chest.

“I can bring you back below if you’d like-” You walked back towards the window again, captivated by the scenes “-Or, or I could show you more of my world? You’ve been so kind in showing me yours”

“I have work” You found yourself saying before turning back to see his confused face and then bursting into laughter.

“What the fuck I have work” You couldn’t stop laughing, Azriel joining the sound as his hands caught your forearms.

“Well, I did leave my jacket at your place, I have every reason to continue forgetting to collect it” You chuckled against his chest, his arms tracing their way across your back, his chin resting on your head.

“I’m gonna be another one of you Honies aren’t I?” You looked up through your lashes, a laugh continuing to leave you

“You’re the only one I want to call Honey” His thumb traced circles on your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss you in sweetness, night-chilled mist and cedar swirling into the undeniable taste of honey.

-----------------------------------------------

Whatcha think?

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omitea · 22 days

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 — 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

char. g. satoru x fem! reader

tags. mentions of razors, gojo being a silly dad, you both have a son (don’t let him fool you!). i feel so soft :( not rlly proofread. wc. 0.8k.

notes. ahem, lowkey forgot how to write… lol

you should’ve known something was up the moment you heard hushed mumbles and giggles coming from down the hall. the morning sun shone brightly through the curtains; illuminating the left side of the bed. of course it’s empty, because who else would that muffled voice belong to.

groaning, you rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands— exhaling a warm breath as you slowly sat up. with a quick glance at your phone, you huffed out a sigh of amusement. how is it even possible to be energetic at 7 in the morning…

you groggily let your feet carry you all the way down the hall. the framed family pictures littering the white wall always managed to shape your lips in a smile no matter how many times you passed by.

you stopped just outside the door of the bathroom, feet shuffling as you heard a loud squeal of joy and an ugly snort following soon after. “ssh! ya gotta be quiet or else mama will hear you.” an image of your little boy looking puzzled flashed before your eyes, only making it hard to suppress the giggle wanting to escape your throat.

with a turn of the doorknob, you creaked the door open. and to be honest, nothing could’ve prepared you for the scene happening in front of you. “satoru!,” you gasped, eyes taking in the absolute mess that was created by none other than your husband… maybe son too, but he’s way too young to understand either way.

with an awkward stumble, he moves a step back from the vanity— still keeping a firm hand placed on your son’s back. “what even happened in here?,” you questioned. it was too damn early for this. satoru gulped, looking at anything but you. “we-,” he started before clearing his throat. “i was teaching him how to shave his face.”

you could only deadpan and look at him like he grew two damn heads overnight. “he’s not even one and a half year old yet, satoru,” you said sternly. the white haired man huffed out a dejected sigh, “i know, okay?,” he motioned with his scarred hands. “he has to be prepared for this either way…”

is he serious? it was cute, you admit… but creating such a mess was not needed.

you looked over at your son and the gummy smile he send your way made your heart swell. if it wasn’t for your form leaning again the door, you definitely would’ve melted into a puddle.

the lower half of his chubby face was covered in bubbles. his ‘beard’ bobbing with each movement of his head as he looked between his bickering parents curiously.

a moment of silence bounced off of the four walls before satoru moved to pick the razor back up. it still had the cover on, you noticed. he started lifting his hand to continue where he left off, but got interrupted as soon as you spoke up. “who made this mess?”

if you glanced at your husband a millisecond sooner, you would’ve seen the way his body froze. unfortunately for him though, the little one who was clueless to all this, lifted a small, chubby finger. not only did he start pointing at his father, but he started babbling too. small, white eyebrows furrowing as he tried to get his point across. “bwah, buh!”

satoru looked absolutely horrified as he felt betrayed by his own son. the one that was supposed to have his back. “you promised you wouldn’t snitch!,” he quickly intervened. “i didn’t expect this from my favorite son…”

with arms crossed, he huffed with a small pout on his glossy, pink lips. “he’s your only son, ‘toru.” a heavy sigh escaped his chest while he moved to clean your son’s face with a wet washcloth. “it still hurts, y’know…” so dramatic. “he literally came out of my balls, only for him to stab me in the back?” he continued with each delicate wipe.

you walked towards the two, careful not to slip on the soapy tiles. a quick peek at your son’s big blue eyes, you tilted your head to look at satoru. “how do you think i feel for carrying this adorable human being for nine months…” you paused. “only for him to look like you?” he noticed the way your eyebrows rose, grinning soon after.

“so, what you’re saying is that i’m adorable?” of course would he say that. “don’t worry, sweet cheeks.” satoru pointed to himself with his thumb. “i can use my awesome skills and pop another one into ya!”

you picked your son up and placed a big fat kiss on his rosy cheek. “your papa is so delusional, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” that only earned a loud gasp and a whine from the lanky man beside you. “not you too!”

ignoring him, you carried on and headed towards the door before sending him a glare. “make sure you clean up everything. and i mean it, satoru.”

turning around he could only widen his eyes and blink. he could’ve sworn he saw the little gremlin grinning up at him as you retreated.

what a fool. you wouldn’t believe him anyway.

#— 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒.#𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧.#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff

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kissitbttr · 22 days

Text

frat!miguel is going to be in a slight delay (because torturing u guys are good hehe) so here is a little something of muñeca with frat!toji before she started dating frat!miguel

—

she flutters her eyes open, letting out a small yawn before craning her neck to the side. a small smile graces her lips when she realizes it’s not her bed. but a lovely man’s who’s had his hand wrapped around her waist protectively.

his eyes are shut, still deep in a slumber. strong, sculpted body uncovered by the blanket and it makes her feel lucky to know that she’s the only one who gets the privilege to see it.

she moves herself closer to his chest, feeling him move and grunt a bit but his hand isn’t moving. lips tucked under his chin before giving the soft skin a few butterfly kisses,

hearing him sigh out of contentment, his hand squeezes her bare waist, drawing her to give more.

delicate fingers trace slowly up to his biceps and shoulders, then down to his chest. giving it a gentle touch before moving to rest upon his abdomen to tease.

“is this your way of asking for a morning sex, princess?”

she hears him speak in that sexy morning voice she’s grown to love over time. giggling against the space between his neck and collarbone,

her eyes look up to see him still closing his eyes, yet a small smile patched on his scarred lips. moving her head a bit upwards to peck it,

“are you complaining?” she teases, fingers moving a few bits of his hair that clings against his forehead,

he grunts as a disagreement, head shaking as his large hands slides down to the fat of her thigh and tugging it over his hip. “feel free to shoot me if i ever turned you down, baby”

she laughs at his comment before settling herself a bit more comfortably. kicking the blanket off and move her body on top of his, causing him to lay flat on his back. his eyes slowly begin to open, smile growing wide when a clear sight of his pretty girlfriend comes into view.

“as much as i wanted to, you really worn me off last night, toji” she sighs, hands cupping his cheeks. “i’m still sore”

he scoffs, running his fingers up and down her waistline. “if i recalled, you’re the one who asked to give it to you harder”

“baby, what you did to me last night was brutal”

“that’s what you wanted though?”

“you fucked me like a whore!” you argue through a small laugh, “i swore i felt like my pussy was about to be torn apart!”

“but i treat you like a princess don’t i?” he cocks an eyebrow, seeing her clamp up after that. “all the after care cuddles and shit too—i even ran to the store last night to get you food!”

“okay, okay, you win—jeez” a roll of her eyes makes him chuckle, large hands move to slide down her ass and squeeze it. “you’re lucky you’re handsome”

“hmm” he connects his lips with hers, “got any plans to do today?”

“cheer practice and group study today” she informs, breaking away from the kiss. “i have a chem test tomorrow and gloria wanted to study together”

“i can drive you back to campus if you wanted?” toji offers, sitting up straight and rest his back against the headboard. “can’t let my baby going back alone”

her head tilt to the side, lips form into a small pout as if she’s thinking with her boyfriend’s fingers running through her hair softly. “i’d love that but i think the guys at my uni would kill you”

toji could only scoff at the silly thought. “are you talking about the guys from the fraternity? i doubt it. i hang out with glen and carlos at most times, it’s just that one dude who has a problem with me”

“are you talking about o’hara?” curiosity lingers in her tone, “he has a problem with almost everyone, baby”

toji shrugs, “i don’t think so. carlos mentioned that man has a crush on you and wanted to kill me for ‘stealing’ you away—not my fault that i got you first before that asshole did”

a giggle falls off her lips as she raises herself up to sit on her knees, giving toji a perfect view of her naked breasts and he has a very hard time holding it together.

“and what? are you going to fight him for simply wanting to be his girlfriend?”

“don’t even joke about that” he warns, not liking the idea of miguel dating his pretty girl. “but if it’s get down to it? yeah i’ll beat his ass”

biting down onto her lower lip, she moves closer to him. “you’d definitely win”

“mhm, i would, wouldn’t i?” he smiles cockily, patting his thighs for her to sit in which she obliges. “are you going to patch me up after?”

“of course i will” she nods, thumb grazing her favorite feature of him. his scar. “i’ll be such a good nurse to you”

he groans, head thrown back. “hearing that should not have turned me on” his fingers,

“well—“ she looks at the clock next to his bed. “i got an hour left before i have to go… what do you say we use the twenty to have a little quickie?”

“there’s no quickie with you, pretty girl—make it thirty?” he negotiates,

“deal!”

—

my writing is so off after not doing it for months:( but i hope u enjoyed it nonetheless!

#frat!toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro blurbs

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melancholiaincarnate · 3 months

Text

hell-bent

warnings: brief descriptions of pain and injuries

note: helloo :3 this is another little ficlet to this fic . im going to make a series masterlist - eventually - but i cannot be bothered to do so right now. anyways - if u wanna see more of them lmk or send in requests hehehehehe

"oh she is the cutest!" feyre swoons, her arms extending towards the child that's hiding behind temperance.

"say hi, piper." you look down and behind your legs to where the girl is clutching onto your pant thighs. though she's got a small fear in her eyes, she still peeks out slightly, taking in the view of your family. five very intense pairs of eyes stare back at her. "it's okay, pip." you whisper, "they're my family."

"hello everyone." she says softly, her voice no higher than the squeak of a small kitchen mouse. "where's azzy?" she questions, looking up and big eyes stare at you.

rhys looks at feyre, a knowing smirk playing upon his face, and a matching one on hers. they've both got that look in their eyes that they get when they're communicating through the bond - you roll your eyes knowing that they're never going to let azriel live down the nickname.

"he'll be here soon. he's just a little busy right now." you smooth down her hair with a gentle hand and she frowns, stepping behind you more as cassian approaches, a grin on his features.

"since when do you have a kid?" he questions, crouching down to eye level with piper. he cranes his neck to attempt to see her but she tucks herself behind you even more. "ooh! lemme guess the father. lemme guess - it's az, isn't it! i always knew you two were fucking."

"she's not mine. and watch your mouth." you huff, kicking cassian lightly and he topples over. "remember the mission rhys sent me on?" cassian nods from his spot on the floor. "i found her." you wince at your choice of words - you definitely could've phrased that better. piper seems to be unaffected by your words, instead choosing to let her shadows sniff out cassian.

"what do you mean you found her? you can't just take people's kids, dude. that's super illegal." cassian scoffs, "how do you 'find' a kid and just take her? rhys, that has to be illegal-" he sits up, but his eyes furrow as he sees little tendrils of black whirling around his arms. "isn't that-"

"there's another shadowsinger in velaris." rhys muses from his spot at the table. "we thought it best for her to come here and train here with our shadowsinger."

"so you just.. took her?" cassian looks bewildered, "dude.. this high lord shit has to have some rules to it. you can't just take kids!" he stands up, stretching, before peeking around your legs to see pip staring back at him. "hi." he grins, "i'm cassian." then, he bends down to whisper, "i'm kind of the coolest one here. everyone else here sucks."

"pip, don't listen to him. he's a moron." you sigh and hear little giggles from behind you, whispers of shadows trailing up your arms. there was one shadow though, that stayed nestled in your neck. it didn't belong to the girl, no, it was one of azriel's shadows that had seemed to take a strong liking to you and preferred you over its master.

"you're very silly mr. cassian." she comments, peeking out a little more. you're grateful for cassian's resolve and the things he's seen - you don't know what you'd do if he made piper feel any worse about her current condition. you don't know what azriel would do if he found out that someone dared look at piper with disgust.

piper steps out and the inner circle holds their breaths. her left eye has a deep scratch on it that stretches from her eyebrow to right underneath her eye. it seems to be healing well, but it settles painfully in everyone's gut to see such a large scar on a pure face.

the rest of her face is filled with smaller scratches. thankfully ones that won't scar. no one's seen it yet - but if piper turned around there would be a missing pair of wings on her back.

no one comments. based on the way cassian and rhys look - they're ready to kill whoever did this to this girl, and they'd only known her for less than an hour. even nesta, normally cold-faced, looks full of anger.

piper pulls on your pant leg and points to the table. you hold her hand and her limping does not go unnoticed by your family. she's relearning to walk without the weight of her wings - and feyre's eyes widen once she realizes.

piper's movements are stiff and the table is silent. for the first time in years, the entire house is silent.

conversation starts up as you help pile food onto piper's plate. despite her condition, her eyes still sparkle with glee. as soon as she puts her first spoon in her mouth, the door to the dining room opens and piper turns quickly,.

"azzy!" everyone is blown back by how loud her shriek is. they're even more surprised at how fast she manages to sprint across the dining room and into azriel's arms, despite her condition. "you came back!"

he picks her up, balancing her on one hip with ease. "told ya i would, pip." his voice is soft as he pats the top of her head. their shadows intertwine and zip around the two of them, as if they were doing their own catching up. "did you do your training today?"

"i did!" her movements have caught up to her and she leans against his legs for support, her breathing becoming labored. he notices, and shadows come to swirl around her legs, ready to catch her if she falls. "i walked all the way down the stairs today! by myself!"

the inner circle watches in awe as the shy little girl they'd just seen exploded into personality at the sight of the quiet and stoic spymaster. rhys smiles to himself - he knew that bringing the girl here was a good idea.

"that's great progress, pip." azriel's voice is laced with exhaustion. his eyes finally catch yours - but only because he felt the pool of your emotions in his chest. he nods softly at you, once to tell you he's okay, and he watches your shoulders relax. "tomorrow we're going to go to the healer's again. she wants to -" azriel glances at the inner court, "she wants to check up on you."

"okay." she smiles, "maybe we can walk there! and i can do it by myself this time!"

"i think you can do it, pip." azriel hums, "how about we go eat? i'm starving." he looks up at you, and smiles again, "and then we can go back to your room and finish that puzzle." "yes!" piper nods quickly, "yes, please!" she holds onto azriel's hand for support, and doesn't flinch when her hands touch his marred ones.

azriel sits between you and piper, his eyes watching every single person at the table as they interact with the girl. they may be his family, but if one person - even his own brothers, made a wrong move, he'd flip the table over. his protection for the girl ran deep - so much so that it worries him.

his shadows whisper that it's alright - his protection is justified. they whisper he'll never have to act to protect her, they'll do it for him. and they whisper that if he does have to act, it'll be justified. they whisper to him that the carnage he'd bring for this girl is justified.

so azriel lets his worries go. they're right.

#acotar azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you

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azzo0 · 19 days

Text

Mug Cakes

Summary: you and Touya bake mug cakes at one a.m. Pairing: Dabi x reader wc: 1k

You sighed, adjusting your head on the fluffy pillow, trying to get yourself to sleep, which was proving difficult with every ticking second. You came to see your boyfriend, Touya, at his parents' house this afternoon. It was fun seeing him bond with his younger siblings now that he was finally released. It had started raining sometime in the evening, which is why you were spending the night here.

You faced the ceiling with a groan, hoping this position would be easier on your back. Yes, the futons were comfortable, but you weren't used to sleeping on the floor.

"Can't sleep?" Touya asked, his voice low. You turned your body to him with a sheepish smile that answered his question. He hummed, taking a hand out of the blanket and placing it on the floor. Your fingers drifted to his, tracing his fading scars.

"I can't sleep either," he admitted. "It feels weird being here again."

"I'm here if you want to talk about it." You kissed his knuckles.

He smiled that mischievous smile of his, and you knew he was about to say something silly, "I'm craving chocolate mug cakes, actually."

"It's one a.m." You deadpanned.

"Mug cakes are the perfect one a.m. dessert."

You laughed softly, careful to keep your voice low to not wake the others up, "And do you know how to make mug cakes?"

"No, but I do have a recipe saved on my phone," he sat up, kicking the blanket off his body. "You up for it?"

You knew he had zero kitchen experience, but you agreed because it was not every day you got to bake with him, even if it probably meant eating burnt mug cakes.

You guys tiptoed past Natsuo's room, stifling giggles like teenagers, when you heard him snore loudly. You had to shush Touya when he stopped by Shoto's room to slide the door open and snicker at how he slept looking like a log. You pinched his arm and dragged him towards the kitchen.

You got the ingredients ready while Touya scrolled through his saved videos, looking for the mug cake recipe.

"Hm, this should be easy." He cracked his knuckles and opened a cabinet to look for two large mugs.

He began shifting plates and cups around, and you had to remind him to be quiet, "Careful, Touya. You might wake someone up with all that that noise."

He found two large mugs and set them out. You took one mug for yourself and stood beside him to look at the recipe and keep an eye on Touya's measurements because the last time he tried baking cupcakes, he measured the flour wrong, and they ended up looking like clumps of rocks.

You and Touya cracked jokes and suppressed giggles as you combined the ingredients with a fork. He lay on the floor with a hand clapped over his mouth, trying not to let the laughter escape his mouth after you told him about your co-worker falling off a chair in the middle of an important meeting.

You froze, watching tears escape his eyes as he curled into himself, letting out a few snorts. You smiled at the sight, a warm feeling of contentment taking over your insides. You never thought you'd see the day where Touya openly laughed his heart out over something that wasn't even that funny.

"Ah, man, I would'a loved to see his face." He finally stood up with a hand on his stomach, a big smile plastered on his face. He wiped his eyelashes and sighed.

"Didn't know you found people falling off chairs so funny." You grinned with a shake of your head.

"It's the funniest thing ever." He stirred the batter in his mug some more before putting it down and looking at it thoughtfully, "It's missing something."

You looked at the recipe on his phone again, "Nope, we've added all the ingredients."

"How could we forget chocolate chips." He tutted, going towards the snacks cabinet and returning with a pack of Oreos and chocolate chips. He threw a handful of chocolate chips in both your mugs, followed by two Oreo cookies in the centre.

"That's a lot of chocolate." You muttered.

"It's gonna taste so good." He put his mug in the oven and fiddled with the settings.

In the meantime, you washed the measuring cups and forks, not wanting to make a mess for Rei to clean in the morning. You dried your hands and crept behind Touya, who was busy staring at the microwave, his face glowing from the orange light behind the glass. You hugged him, cheek mushed on his back.

He turned around and kissed your eyebrow, resting his head on yours as you guys watched the mug spin in the microwave. He took out the mug when the oven dinged, handing it to you right away. It smelled sweet and divine, making your mouth water. You grabbed a spoon and helped yourself to the mug cake while Toya popped the other mug in the microwave.

"Oh, this is so good," You moaned. He took a spoon and scooped out a giant chunk of your mug cake.

"Touya, no fair!" You gasped, holding your mug away from him.

"Oh, shit, this is good." He reached for your mug again, but you hid it under your shirt.

"Nuh-uh, I'm not giving you more."

"Fine," he chuckled and lowered his face down to yours, dragging his tongue on your lips to pick up crumbs of the cake. "Damn, it tastes good on your lips too."

Your face heated instantly, and Touya barked a laugh at your reaction. You huffed and took out the mug from under your shirt when the oven rang again. Your mug cake was safe now. Not long into your guys' relationship, you had learned to never offer your food to him because he always took giant bites and spoons out of your food.

"You wanna watch a movie in the room while we eat?" You asked.

"Is it going to be another boring space movie?"

"Space movies are not boring, but you can pick."

"Sure, let's go."

You got off the stool and turned to the door, almost jumping when you found Natsuo staring at you guys with betrayal and shock in his eyes as his mouth hung open, "You guys baked mug cakes without me?!"

#touya fluff #dabi fluff #dabi x reader #touya x reader #mha fluff #mha x reader #Dabi #azzo writes

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trashmouth-richie · 8 months

Text

your touch

eddie x female reader

summary: eddie survives the “earthquake” but has a hard time adjusting to changes, thankfully you are there

“This thing… fucking itches.”

He stood in the mirror. Harsh glow of sickly green fluorescent lights accentuating his mauled torso. Scrutinizing himself, hating what looked back at him.

“It’s only temporary,” you try to reassure him, speaking with a calm voice gently stroking soft hands over his hips, “just for a few—”

“Years babe!” He says hotly, irritation bubbling beneath his temples as he stares back at your eyes in the mirror, “a few years—you say it as if it’s not a big deal, like it’ll be over tomorrow.”

‘86 wasn’t Eddie’s year.

What was supposed to be filled with celebrating graduation and possibly a trip to LA to find a recording studio who would take him and the band seriously, ended in a week's time over Spring Break.

A week that brought new turmoil, hatred, fear and devastation to Hawkins— starting with a dead cheerleader, ending with a come-to-life DnD monster wreaking havoc across the small sheltered town.

Many people died. And if you asked any living member of Hawkins besides a select few; Eddie and yourself were also considered dead.

You stroke the back of his neck—small circles scratching lightly against bare skin, stubborn stubble peeking through showing itself off.

“Honey,” you purr with lips to his back, looking at him in the same mirror he hated more and more everyday that he had been here. “You know what the other option was.”

The town wanted Eddie dead and Owens agreed that having him be just that on paper would be the safest option. A little hush government money, a silly new name— Eddie was cool with that, almost excited.

“I know, I know..” he groans, fingers raking through the thick brown beard on his chin, defeated. “But this—” he says tugging harshly, “itches and.. and fuck—”

His appearance had to change.

Hawkins wasn’t satisfied with the claims that he was dead from the earthquake, they wanted to see a body, churchgoers going medieval, calling for his head on a stake in the middle of town.

Not wearing his rings made him feel like he was naked. He hated the feeling of it at first. But what really put the nail in the coffin was when he had to cut his hair, and “possibly grow a beard if he was able to” per Owen’s requests.

You work your fingers through the tufts of his beard, gently untangling the coarse hair and massaging his chin. “You’re still handsome.”

When Eddie got down on himself he stayed there in the wallowing depths, barely above water for weeks. Finding no joy in things he used to, some days even refusing to eat.

“I’m scarred up…don’t even look like my— I can’t fucking do this.” His frustration gets the best of him, letting a fist fly into the mirror—shattering it into pieces that clank loud in the sink, some tinkering down the drain and across the tiled floor.

He curses loud as blood flows angry and crimson from his knuckles, pit pattering onto the ceramic sink. He watches it slide down into a collecting path, pooling into a mass before it deepens, staining the floor entirely.

Minutes pass, and you haven’t said a word, giving him the space he needs. Eddie cleans himself up, bandaging his hand carelessly as he scrambles trying to piece the mirror back together, maybe if he had some tape he could fix it for you.

“I’m sorry baby,” he mutters around a fresh flock of tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I’m so fucking sorry, please don’t leave me.”

He feels your hands wrap around his waist again. Cold as silk, stinging like a frostbite, comforting him the only way you could.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie hears, feeling your icy hands trace around his heart, “I’m always here.”

Sanity left him long ago, the barred enclosure taking its toll on his mind, his body. The others couldn’t understand—maybe didn’t want to understand why.

Why the inmate talked to his mirror.

a follow up to this story, the raven told me of you, is linked here

#eddie munson #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfiction #eddie fan fiction #eddie fanfic #eddie angst #eddie x you

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tinkertea · 1 year

Text

MINORS DNI

FEEL GOOD

i've developed a fully fledged kink for men who wear masks, send help

synopsis: you make your boyfriend feel good after gym. pairing: könig x fem!reader warning: heavy petting; swearing category: smut word count: 814

He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his muscular legs spread wide enough so you could sit between them, his arms behind his head. It was ridiculous how good he looked, half-lidded eyes locked at you, watching your every move. His dark blonde hair was messy but you liked it, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as if suppressing a smirk at the way you were admiring him. No longer was your undivided attention making him nervous, no longer was he questioning whether you found his scars repelling. He knew you barely noticed them, rather focusing on the freckles, on his eyes, on him.

“You look good”, his smooth voice broke the silence. You knew he was right and König knew how lucky he was to have you sitting obediently in front of him, breasts almost spilling out of the black lace bra you had put on just for him. Your fingers were leisurely drawing patterns on his legs as your eyes met his.

“D’you wanna touch me?”

You nodded, licking your lips at the thought of having your boyfriend at your mercy. He slightly tilted his head at you. “Go on then, Schöne. Make me feel good.”

You didn’t waste time and started to get him out of his training shorts that he had still been wearing. Your mouth watered at his muscular thighs – for some reason you had always found them particularly attractive, whether it was the way they flexed when he was fucking you in a hard but steady rythm or the way they felt when your barely clothed cunt was rutting against them.

He was wearing grey boxers, a dark wet patch showed off just the effect you had on him. How could he ever deny how blessed he was by having such a gorgeous thing all for himself? Of course he got turned on by the way you greeted him impatiently at the door after he’d finally returned from the gym, your body clad in the black lace, your voice sweet like honey when you’d asked him “Do you like it, König? Bought it just for you” as you gently led him to the couch.

It was a silly question, really. You could tell by the outline of his growing member, by the way his pupils dilated, how his tongue darted out to wet his pink lips - he loved it.

The groan he let out as you put your mouth on him - only separated by the fabric of his underwear - had you squeeze your thighs together but you were determined. He could feel your hot breath, your lips trying to suck through the fabric. It wasn’t enough, he needed more, more, more. There could never be enough of you.

König felt your lips turn into a smile, you were so cruel, enjoying his demise, his exterior cracking beneath your touch just like this. He had to press his eyes shut as need became a lump in his throat. “Fuck, scheiße, bi- please,” his voice jumped an octave higher.

It was tough to suppress a moan when his cock sprung free, you longed to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to taste him. It was addicting – how he melted beneath your touch, how his face was scrunched up when you hadn’t even done anything yet to warrant such a response. You were addicted to the power he allowed you to have in these rare moments, you were addicted to how he laid his vulnerability bare in front of you.

“I’ll make you feel good, my king, I promise,” you almost purred before licking from base to the top, following the prominent vein on the underside, getting him nice and slick, before licking the pre-cum off the beautiful pink tip. His breath hitched when you licked his slit, König’s hand roaming through your hair like it had a mind of its own before you gently took in your own and placed it on his knee.

“Be good, my king,” you mumbled against his soft skin, taking as much as you could into your mouth. While your one hand held his fingers tight as you struggled with his length, your other toyed with his balls the way you knew he liked it. The moan that escaped him was enough to confirm this knowledge. “Fuck, fühlt sich das gut an,” he mumbled beneath his breath, his emerald eyes trained on you again.

He couldn’t miss out on the magic unfolding in front of him. Though his arousal clouded his mind, he couldn’t help but notice how you squeezed your thighs, how your eyes were dark with lust as you enjoyed the taste of him. He was sure that by now you were seeping through the thin lace thong onto the hardwood floor. He didn’t mind one bit, he’d make you lick it clean later – before he’d feast on you himself.

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httpsghostie · 1 year

Text

Beneath the Surface (pt. 2)

Part one

Part two

Okay first of all the fact that the father's best friend!Simon went so well makes me worried. So we're all damaged? Anyways thank you sm!

Requests are open and appreciated, I need ideas hehehehe

Here's a part two that no one asked for

Summary: Simon follows you to the bathroom for a second round.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader, implied age gap, piv, unprotected, choking, breeding kink, slight scent kink, reader is called by lots of names, no use of y/n

masterlist

NSFW under the cut

Your heart was racing, your legs trembling when you unlocked the door of your room. It had been probably half an hour since your parents got home and everything happened. They went to sleep, not wanting to bother you and the bad-temper they knew you had before they left. You went to the bathroom and started undressing yourself, looking at your reflection in the mirror and noticing the way your hips were marked. He'd dug his nails into your flesh when he was fucking you silly and your rotting brain didn't even feel it.

His hands on your body, his words, it didn't leave your mind. You spent countless nights dreaming about this. It was so dirty, you felt so stupid and dislocated to want this when your friends talked about their normal relationships with people their age, while you daydreamed about having sex with a man that appeared every once in a while, usually accompanied by a new battle scar. And, well, speaking of the devil, the doorknob turned and he got in, locking the door behind him.

"-the fuck are you-" your words got cut off as his lips crashed again yours, his eager hands pressing you against the balcony and squeezing your ass.

"'M not done with you." He broke the kiss and kissed a trail down your neck to your chest, where he palmed one of your tits as the other one was on his mouth. His knee pressed against your core, those fucking tight jeans that accentuated his thighs were now getting a wet spot.

He was now towering over you as he sat you down on the sink, taking off all of his clothes. He spread your legs further apart and without any warning he just thrusted into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size.

"How does it feel, hm?" He asks. "'Y like being stuffed, baby?" One of his hands grabs a fistful of hair behind your neck. "Such a needy whore you are, walking around with my cum in you." He planted kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone.

You clenched around him at his words, earning a small and almost animalistic groan from the back of his throat. He pulled you from the porcelain surface, letting you stand your ground before flipping you like a piece of paper. He bended you on the sink, pressing your back for you to arch for him.

That sight. Oh, that sight. He tapped his cock on your butt a few times and brushed his tip around your folds, then he entered. This angle allowed him to go deeper, and he sighed as he grabbed your hips and started to fuck you slowly.

"God..damn it." He moaned. "So fucking tight." You kept your back arched, but slowly lifted your face from the porcelain, looking at his reflection. His back had fallen back and his eyes were closed. You weren't sure what that meant, was he enjoying it, trying to memorize how you felt? Or were you just a simple fuck to the man behind you?

Needless to say you didn't know what went through his head. But the thought of him seeing you as a hobby or a distraction made you steamed up. Oh, wow. The feeling was knotting your stomach, all the heat going to your head. You moved against him, trying to get more movement from his part. He looked at you in the mirror and gave you a smirk.

"So eager, eh?" He pulled you closer to his body.

"What's so good you can't look at me?" You ask, not knowing where you were getting into.

"Beg your pardon? " His smirk was gone and he was looking at you with lustful eyes. "Want me to look at this pretty face of yours while I ruin you, huh?" His right arm slid in front of your neck and he choked you with his muscles, your back was now glued to him. "Then take it."

You just signed your death sentence. The caring Simon you knew was probably buried deep down those giant muscles in the reflection. He fucked you mad, hand covering your mouth as his balls hit your bundle of nerves repetitively. He couldn't help himself, he needed to do this ever since you started to purposefully wear revealing clothes around him.

It started small, just a shirt with a little bit of cleavage showing. You didn't feel like it had affected him in any way, so you upgraded your game. Skirts. Skirts were his downfall. That man was covered in gasoline and you were the spark to set him on fire. The way your thighs moved, the way it complimented your body. He always said you looked beautiful in skirts and dresses, what he forgot to mention is that they'd look even better on the floor, all across the room.

He dreamt about the day this would finally happen, but he needed to be sneaky. He didn't want to lose such a strong friendship with your father just because he had an incessant desire for his daughter. It was wrong, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself when his hands were wrapped around his leaking cock in your bathroom after some silly hand appointments in the living room, usually followed up by him coming by the scent of your used pink, laced panties in the laundry basket.

"Uh-uh, open your eyes, princess." Demanded him, one hand on your throat and the other on your hip. "Want you to watch how I ruin this pussy." He gave a step forward and pressed your face against the mirror, immediately making it steam with your heatness. He held your hands back as he thrusted harder into your velvety walls. You felt your eyes closing again and he yanked your head back, choking you with his free hand. "Did I stutter?" You shake your head.

He spat on your face and inserted his fingers on your mouth, never stopping fucking you. "Look at yourself." He slowly pushed his fingers in until it reached your throat and you gagged around them. He smiled as he made you drool down his hand.

He fucked you incessantly, the knot inside you growing with each movement. Your pussy was sore and he was abusing your cervix at this point. You swear you could pass out before making him cum, because your legs were giving up.

"Come here you little slut." He flipped you and picked you up, walking into the shower and turning it on. "Can't take my cock anymore?" Said as he pressed you against the wall and fucked you hard. You slightly shake your head, mouth agape. You didn't mean it, your body was moving on its own. "Too bad, princess. 'Gonna take what I give you."

Moans escaped your mouth unintentionally as you felt your body get even weaker as you approached your high.

"Fuck, sir, 'm gonna cum." You cried out, throwing your head back.

"What you called me?" He looked you in the eye and his lips were turning into a smirk. Obviously it came out involuntarily. You looked at him confused. "Say that again, baby, come on." He encouraged.

"Sir… I'm coming, I'm coming." You whined, his thumb was somehow stimulating your clit and you reached your orgasm, leaving his lower stomach and crotch covered in your juices. He didn't let you ride down your high, he was desperate to cum inside you again. "T-... much, Si." You cried lowly on his shoulder.

He didn't listen to you, but it didn't take much more until he was releasing his warm seeds inside of you, legs trembling, panting breath.

He helped you to clean, well, he gave you a shower after you collapsed on his arms. He then carried you to your room and laid you down on your comfy bed, the one you needed since the day ended.

The walk back to the guest bedroom was somehow exquisite. He fulfilled his dreams, and probably yours too, but he felt like he needed more. Your touch, sweet and delicate as he gently scrubbed you in the shower. The tender, soft kiss you left on his cheek when he carried you. It wasn't all just sex. He was desperate for affection and you were there to give it to him. All under the covers. Your dirty secret.

#cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost #ghost #cod smut #mw2 fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost smut

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