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bamboozledbird · 2 months

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Written in the Stars // Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Stiles x You (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5k Tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, i love my men nerdy and desperate, all characters are over 19, my vibe is it's like their sophomore or junior year of college Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, unprotected pnv (terrible advice, babes, don't listen to these idiots)

Request: stiles smut plssss!!! anything fluffy??? A/N: request mixed with a lil bit of an old work to ease me into my first smut. still coming across virginities at 27, and that is really something. s/o to the anon who requested it lmao.

Stiles’s childhood bedroom is an assortment of Star Wars paraphernalia, baseball posters, and bundles of wrinkled flannels squeezed to fit within four faded blue walls. There are a few books stacked on top of his desk, coated in a thin layer of dust from the semester away from home, and little plastic stormtroopers stand at attention on his dresser corners. It smells a little musty in his room, a little like damp earth, but you’ve always liked that smell. You especially like how his cologne smells here—like spice, like fallen leaves, like Christmas morning.

“The curtains are blackout,” Stiles says. He pulls the heavy navy curtains over the window facing the small backyard. The grass is yellowing from the cold of winter, and the air is crisp with the same bitter chill. You shiver and burrow further into the sweatshirt you’d somehow commandeered long before you and Stiles were a we. A few flecks of dust float off the plaid bedding when he sits down on his bed. He looks up at you and grins at the sleeves hanging limply below your fingers, “Flip off the light.”

You turn off the light and shut the door. It’s dark inside the room now—almost completely black. What little remains of the sun is gone, and now you can only see the glow-in-the-dark stars sticky-tacked to the ceiling. “You must have taken a lot of people up here,” you hum, grinning at him coyly over your shoulder. You’re not quite sure if he can make out the glint in your eyes under the pale fluorescent glow, but you’d like to think he can. Either way, you’re sure he knows.

Stiles laughs easily and scoots himself down to the edge of his bed, “Why?”

“For kissing,” you say, matter-of-factly, but you’re still grinning. You make your way towards him, and your prowl is far less smooth than you’d like it to be—the piles of books and a couple month’s worth of dirty laundry make an already difficult path downright hazardous. You count it as a win when you end up in his lap without tripping on anything, “Doesn’t everyone want to be kissed under the stars?”

His hands, his wonderfully large and veiny hands, find their way to your hips. It’s instinct for him, reflexive at this point, and here in the dark it feels like the only thing he knows. You can feel his grin against your neck, “Do you?”

You hum, playing coy, and absently curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, thick and curling a bit at the ends. It’s grown out over the last few months. He’s been too busy with studying for finals and working at the library to bother getting it cut. You like it like this, long enough to hold onto, long enough to yank. “I like the stars,” you sigh—so close to his mouth, but not touching—and then you pull back, smiling fondly when you see his mouth is already puckered. “Tell me about ‘em.”

Stiles groans and falls onto his back, pulling you down with him. You end up tucked against his side, shivering as he slides his hand under your sweatshirt to trace a feathery line up and down your back. “That’s like the worst possible genre for innuendo. I can’t woo you while I’m David Attenborough-ing about astrology.”

You smile against his shoulder, and he yelps when you nip at his skin through his thread-bare t-shirt. “You like a challenge.”

He wraps a strand of your hair around his finger and pulls a little, just hard enough to tip into a reprimand. It’s at least half the reason you turn into a brat when he’s this close. “There’s Andromeda,” he hums against the top of your head, pointing towards a small cluster of stars. “Those are supposed to be her legs, and that’s her head, and the ones over there are her arms—fuckin’ uneven, I know. I think that side kinda looks like she’s holding out one of those canes with tennis balls on t—”

You smile and knock your head into his chin lightly, “Wooing, Stiles.”

He tugs on your hair again and swears under his breath when a little whimper tumbles past your lips. “Anyway, she’s next to Perseus—who looks a lot more like Patrick than a demigod. I mean, look at him; his body type is like…something between Dorito and spanakopita.” You laugh, and Stiles squeezes you closer to his side, tangles your legs together, and kisses the tip of your nose like he just can’t help himself. “Story goes, Andromeda's mom royally pissed off Poseidon, so he sent a sea monster to destroy her kingdom—as one does when someone’s talking shit.”

“Naturally,” you hum as you reach for the hand he has cupped around your waist.

“Naturally,” Stiles agrees, nodding against the crown of your head. You try not to get too distracted by the length of his fingers, bending them and straightening them out one at a time, as he carries on with the story, “So Andromeda’s mom is up there with the titans of bad parents—like right next to Vader and every Disney step-mom ‘cause she fuckin’ ties Andromeda to a rock as a sacrifice for the mo—” He sucks in a shallow breath through his teeth when you start kissing along the row of his knuckles, first little soft brushes that almost tickle and then a few lingering ones that wet his skin. He swears again and ever-so slowly shifts his hips against the thigh tucked between his legs. You take pity on him and rest your entwined hands in the small gap between your breastbone and his ribs. His exhale is warm against your forehead, “Obviously, Perseus swoops in at the last minute, slays the beast, gets the girl, etcetera, etcetera.”

Humming, you tip your chin up against his chest and look at him through your lashes, “What happens during etcetera, etcetera?”

“I think,” Stiles rolls over so that he’s on top of you, bracing his weight on his forearms, caging you in delightfully close to his broad chest, “something like this.”

You forget about the game for a minute when he starts mouthing at your skin with just the right amount of teeth. His hair, adorably messy and sticking up in little patches from your fingers, tickles the hinge of your jaw. “Didn’t Perseus kill Medusa?” you mumble, head tipping back into the mattress, eyes closed.

“Uh,” Stiles keeps kissing along your neck, obviously distracted by the hitches in your breath and the soft sighs you let out when he breathes against spit-slick skin, “yeah?”

You can feel the heaviness of his whine against your mouth when you pull away, blinking up at him with big, round eyes—the picture of innocence. A little lamb, an unplucked daisy, a gossamer butterfly wing, entirely unaware of the raging hard-on pressed against your inner thigh. His skin is warm through his shirt, so warm you feel it on your legs when you wrap them around his waist. “While she was sleeping?”

“Uh huh,” Stiles slides a hand up your thigh. The other one is pressed into the mattress, and the muscles in his forearm flex under his full weight. You’re pretty sure he’d agree with anything you say like this.

Unfortunately for the pulsing between your legs, you’ve fallen victim to your own ruse. Your head tilts as you recall all the unsavory details of the Medusa myth, “After she was literally assaulted by his dad?”

Stiles drops his head against your chest and groans, “You’re killing me, baby.”

You grin and curl your fingers in his hair, petting him gently and squeezing your thighs against his hips, “Tell me another one.”

He sighs and rolls over, starfishing his right arm and leg over the edge of the bed with a dramatic flop. “We’ll skip Orion and the seven girls he stalked.”

“Smart choice,” you hum and snuggle into his side. His chest is firm from hours of trying to lift enough to play lacrosse with werewolves, but it still makes for a nice pillow. Stiles’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you swallow back the purr rising in your throat for his sake. He’s been so good for you, after all. You don’t want the torture to be too painful.

“And the swan-fucker,” he adds, scratching lightly at your scalp.

“What?”

Stiles ignores your wide eyes, smirking, and continues playing with your hair, “Altair and Vega. That’s a good one.” In the blanket of darkness and under the strain of yearning, his voice sounds soft and crackly, like one of those singers in the black and white movies, the ones that dance with the microphone. “Starts with a gorgeous, sexy, incredibly charitable goddess falling for a lowly mortal,” his grin is sly as he hikes your thigh over his, squeezing just under your ass, “a lot like us.”

“Boo. Awful.” You pull a face as he drops a flurry of kisses over your cheeks, nose, chin—your laughing mouth, “Disgusting. I’m disgusted.”

His fingers dip into the waistband of your leggings, tauntingly close to just where you want him, “You don’t feel disgusted.”

Now, that won’t do. You’re just getting started. You trap his hand with your thighs and tap your finger against the slope of his upturned nose, “Finish the story.”

Stiles whines a little and then sighs, returning the palm of his hand to the little dip above your hip. “Her dad is disgusted that she wants to bring a loser human home, so he turns them into stars on opposite sides of the galaxy.”

Frowning, you squint at the collection of stars he’d pointed to. They don’t look so far apart on his bedroom ceiling. “That’s…depressing.”

“It’s not over yet,” Stiles pulls on your hair and does his best to look annoyed, but the nip to your bottom lip feels far more like a reward than a punishment, “hush.” He waits a minute for you to comply—or, more likely, not comply—and you settle back on his chest and arch your brow, waiting. He arches his brow right back and then keeps going, “One day a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, Altair fills the galaxy with his tears, and every bird in the sky makes a bridge with their wings so that they can spend one more night together.”

The corner of your mouth tugs into a little grin, “That is a good one.” You trace little patterns on his bicep, little swirls and stars, and rest your chin on his shoulder so that you can see his pretty face, “But just for the story. Only one night a year would kill me.”

“Baby,” Stiles clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and shakes his head like he's disappointed, bottom lip jutting out slightly from under his top, “it'd take a helluva lot more than a couple light-years and an immortal father-in-law to keep me from getting to you.”

It’s such a line, but the dopey grin he gives you while he says it somehow makes it charming. Maybe you’re just a little bit lovesick. Okay, maybe a lot. “You can kiss me n—”

He’s on you before you can finish, but you don’t mind being interrupted when he's slanting his mouth against yours just right and groaning into your sighs with a gravelly pitch that makes your toes curl. “Fuck me,” Stiles sighs. He dips back in before you can quip something bratty, something that would definitely earn you another yank on your hair—later perhaps.

You straddle his waist, sit back in the cradle of his pelvis, and lace your fingers together on the mattress against the sides of his head. He whimpers. You curse. “Off,” you mutter against his mouth, tugging petulantly on the hem of his t-shirt. Stiles is quick to comply, like always, but the fabric gets stuck around his shoulders. You let him struggle for a minute, just long enough to hear more of those petulant little whines. When you finally help him wrangle his shirt over his head, you’re up close and personal with his mouth. His lips are pretty—swollen, pink, and shiny with salvia and your lip balm—and you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to bite. You toss his shirt somewhere on the floor behind you and lean down, your chest pressed against his. You can feel his heartbeat stutter, like a rabbit in a trap, when you stroke your thumb over his bottom lip. It’s soft and wet against your finger, and you sigh high in your throat, “Pretty.”

His chest warms, and you wish you had more light to admire the flush spreading from his neck to his cheeks. You know it’s pink and pretty too, but you’d enjoy seeing the proof. “Pretty?” Stiles echoes, cocking his head slightly, and slides his hands from your ass to your hips. He continues his path along the sides of your ribcage with the bottom of your sweatshirt bunched between his fingers.

“Pretty,” you nod, sharp and definitive. You sit up a little so that Stiles can pull your hoodie off, and then it’s lost to the dark abyss. Frankly, you aren’t that worried about if you ever see it again. You can always steal another one after you’re done.

He shakes his head and runs his hands over your torso, your collarbones, your stomach, just under your tits—he can’t see that well in the dim light, so he’s damn well going to see you the only way he can. “Pretty,” Stiles groans, cupping your tits and gently thumbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your cotton bra. It’s simple, white, unadorned by lace or a pattern—and it’s sexier than it has any right to be, he thinks. He’s eager to rip it off.

You shudder through the entire length of your spinal column, through all the nerves attached, and arch into his touch, “Yeah?”

He coos, and your nipples pebble in response. It’s embarrassing but soon forgotten when Stiles cups your face, big hands encompassing almost the entire length of your jaw, and whispers, “Pretty girl. My pretty baby.”

It’s even more embarrassing how quickly you feel your underwear dampen under the scrutiny of some simple praise. Now, you’re whining, and he’s letting out a string of guttural, “Fuck,”s as you grind down against the increasingly painful bulge in his jeans. Your nails leave little pink lines along the sculpted v of his pelvis, just deep enough to sting a bit—enough to send his head back towards his shoulders. He sits up a little more so that he can grip your hips, holding them still as he catches his breath, and you’re only a little ashamed of the way you mewl his name in protest. Stiles shuts you up with a kiss and shakes his head, “Can’t come in my pants like I’m 17 again. That’s the worst possible ending to our constellation. Like a 1/10, definitely certified rotten.”

You grin against his throat, and he swallows at the sharp press of your teeth. “Oh, I don’t think that’s the worst ending. Wouldn’t the worst be the one where you don’t come at all?”

Stiles’s fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you down firmly against his lap, like he’s scared you’ll get up and leave him with a weeping cock and teary eyes. “Baby, don’t even joke about that. That’s a billion times worse than letting a sea monster rip me in half.”

“Guess you can split me in half then,” you shrug a little, and Stiles goes taut under you, fingertips flexing into the small of your back, “unless you want me to tie you to a rock. I’d be into that.”

He growls in your ear, nipping at your jaw and flipping you onto your back. You laugh, a little breathless, as you bounce back on the mattress from the force of it. “Definitely wanna split you in half,” Stiles mutters as he shucks off his pants and kneels at the edge of his bed. He starts peeling back your leggings, taking his time to kiss each sliver of skin revealed to him despite the urgency in his eyes, despite the ache in his white-knuckled grip on the buttery martial of your bottoms. “Gonna wreck you,” Stiles promises as he brushes his lips over your ankle a few times. His words are filthy, but his eyes are honey-sweet and lit with nothing but complete and utter devotion—like you really are a goddess in the sky. You’re already wrecked, probably have been since he kissed you for the first time, entirely ruined for anyone else.

“Did’ya know that Vega is brighter than Altair,” he says, quiet and reverent as he drops your leggings. You blink at him, a bit dumbly, but it’s his own fault for trying to have a conversation while he’s sliding your legs over his shoulders and fiddling with the hem of your underwear. “By, like, 5 places? I think? That’s us too—can’t even look at you sometimes,” he hums, warm against your wet cunt, and hooks his thumbs around your panties. You shudder, and he smiles. You aren’t quite sure if he’s talking to you or to the glistening flesh he reveals when he yanks the baby pink cotton to the side. Either way, you understand his dilemma. It’s torture to watch him sometimes. You have to close your eyes when the pink tip of his tongue darts out, wetting his lip, tasting the air.

There’s a sigh. So soft. Really more of an exhale, and you aren’t sure where it came from. It could’ve been you, or him, or the stars. “You talk a lot,” this time you know the sigh is coming from you.

Stiles smirks a little and slips his thumb inside your panties, swiping through your slick folds like he’s fingerpainting, “Is that a complaint?”

Your hips stutter, and his other hand is quick to clamp down on your skin, stopping any attempts to skitter away from his light touch. “I love it when you talk,” you hum, leaning up onto your elbows so that you can watch him work. He grins up at you, almost shy, and presses down against your clit. A wet gasp bursts through swollen lips as your back arches, and Stiles isn’t so shy when he bends down to drop a gentle kiss over his thumb. “But I, uh,” you brush your fingers through the dark hair flopping over his forehead and squeeze your eyes shut when his kisses become kitten licks, “I also love it when you use your mo—” His finger (his long, gifted finger) slides into your cunt with an embarrassing squelch, and his lips wrap around your clit as he sucks. “That,” you whine, back arching a little until Stiles spreads his fingers over your stomach and presses down, “I also love it when you do that.”

His laugh vibrates deliciously against all the places he’s trying to devour, and you think it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go—being eaten alive by your gorgeous boyfriend. He pulls back to slip another finger in your pussy, spreading them just enough to burn in the best way, and then he’s prodding at the spot inside you that sends a jolt up your spine—makes your fingers wind in the bedspread, pull on his hair, fly to your mouth when you start to cry a little. It didn’t used to be like this. Sex. Getting fingered, fucked, even eaten out—it never felt like this before him. It’s…overwhelming, sometimes. Most of the time, actually. You keep waiting to get used to it, for the newness, the discovery of it all, to wear off. Hasn’t happened yet. You don’t think it ever will. Certainly not tonight.

“Good?” Stiles licks his lips, at the glistening corners of his mouth, and you toss your head back—overwhelmed. “Good,” he concludes, and he’s not even smug about it. More like he’s making a note in one of his case files, something to look back on later when he needs it. He’s quick about getting what little remains of your clothes off, and when he crawls on top of you, you’re immensely grateful for it. Skin on skin, nothing quite like it. Quick romps in the jeep, up against alley walls, the sink of the occasional bar bathroom—all fun, but not nearly as satisfying as being completely pressed against his naked body, completely caged in by his large frame. Sappy, maybe, but it feels dirty when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. When he bumps against your clit, you mewl and dig your nails into his back. He sucks in sharply and buries his face in the crook of your neck, “There’s a condom in th—”

“Forget it,” you whimper, carding your fingers through his hair. It’s a little sweaty where it meets his neck, and it’s so soft, and thick, and perfect, and—he’s stopped breathing against your neck.

He groans from a place deep in his gut, deeper actually, and his arms shake, “Are you su—”

“Yes,” you nod rapidly and wrap your legs around him, arms too, and your fingers join in on the clinging when they twist in his hair. “Absolutely. 1000%. Please don’t make me say please.”

He lets out a little laugh that stirs the hair framing your face, and he traces your cheekbone, barely touching your skin. Your head swims with the look in his eyes: amber, warmth, and worship, “But you’re just so pretty when you beg.” Not that you’ve ever had to for long. Stiles gives you anything you want if you ask him the right way. If you look at him with big, wet eyes, if you jut out your lower lip just so—wet as well, the little lick of your tongue is part of it; that took him months to figure out—he crumbles. He’s said many times that better men than he have fallen victim to far less beautiful schemes.

Stiles kisses the pout off your lips and nudges the tip of his nose over yours, grinning like a drunken idiot, “Told’ya, baby. Not a light-year, definitely not a little latex.” His grin slides into a little ‘o’ when you slither your hand between your bodies and grip his cock, sliding the first inch into your cunt, impatient. “F-fuck—fuck-ing hell,” he grunts and takes over for you, squeezing your hip until it starts to hurt a little. You’d say something, but then he’d stop—and you like the way it aches. You like knowing there will be a bruise. He’ll fret over it later, kiss each mottled spot better a million times, and you like that too. You like being taken care of, almost as much as he likes taking care of you.

When he bottoms out, when his pelvic bone ruts up against you, a long, drawn out whimper spills through your pout. “Yeah? Feels good, baby?” Stiles watches your face closely, brushes away the hair sticking to your forehead, and drops a few kisses on your shut eyelids. You nod, and nod, and nod, until he stops you with another kiss to your lips. He kisses you slowly, presses his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you sigh. The kiss quickly becomes wet and filthy, and you’d be embarrassed by the sound of your tongues sliding together if you could actually hear it. At the moment, all you can hear is his cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy—and that’s definitely sending a dizzying heat up your neck. You don’t worry about it for long when his hips shift and he starts hitting that spot inside you again. After that, neither of you can hear anything over your squealing. Stiles kisses away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and licks his lips, chasing the taste. “Right there, huh?” You babble an incoherent answer, and he strokes your hair and noses at your cheek, “Yeah, right there. I know. It’s okay.”

Stiles slides his hands under your back and sits up, taking you with him. The new angle is impossibly deep, and you bite down on his shoulder and wind your arms around his neck to keep yourself there. With him. In the moment. “It’s okay, baby. I got you, promise,” he squeezes your hips, and despite his reassurances and the strength of his grip, you know he’s falling apart too. He’s close. You can feel it. His hips stutter a little, change direction, lose their dedicated pace—and it’s perfect because you’re right there with him. It’s been building for a while, probably since he led you by hand to his room, maybe even before that when he smirked at you behind his cup of tequila and (mostly) pineapple juice.

You cry a little and bite down on your bottom lip, hard. Stiles kisses the sting away, and your eyes screw shut as you start babbling again, “I’m—”

He kisses you again and lifts his hands from your hips to cup your face, thumbing along your bottom lip when he pulls back—not far, just enough to look at your face, shiny with sweat and tears. “I know,” he stills for a moment, pausing the movement of his hips so that he can just feel you pulsing around him for a moment, “me too.” You aren’t sure if you want to hit him or kiss him for stopping, but you don’t have the strength to do either when he starts what must be his final round of thrusts. It has to be—you’re a few seconds away from collapsing or coming, whichever comes first. When Stiles moans your name in your ear, soft and high like he does when he’s right there, and he slides his hand down your stomach to rub firm circles on your clit, you’re happy it’s your orgasm that happens first. Your abs convulse a little as you twitch around him, and you curl in on yourself as much as you can with Stiles in the way. He’s not in the way for long. Growling, he shoves you back against the bed and mumbles, “Where?” after a few sloppy thrusts.

You mewl as he keeps the pressure on your clit, reach for his wrist and try to pull his hand away, but he’s determined and you’re tired. You twitch and throw your head back, whimpering, “Inside,” before you can think better of it. It’s his fault, you’ll decide later, for prolonging your high with his mean, unforgiving, wonderful thumb.

He’ll blame you, for feeling so perfect around him—for fluttering, and leaking, and trembling better than…anything he’s ever seen in porn, and he’s watched...a lot of it, so he’s a bit of an expert on the cinematic orgasm. “You’re so fuckin—you,” he shakes his head against your heaving chest and groans, “you’re everything.” And when he finally comes in you, you’re okay with taking the blame for something that feels so good. He manages a few more thrusts, and then he finally lets you pull his hand away from your cunt when he collapses onto his forearms, barely holding himself up from crushing you with his full weight. You’d tell him to roll over, but then he’d be over there and not in you, so you put up with the sweat and heaviness while your head spins.

“Baby?” Stiles hums noncommittally in response to your soft prodding, and you smirk against the top of his head. All the smugness leaves you when you finally feel the foreign sensation of his cum leaking out of you. Shuddering, you kiss his hair a few times and scratch up and down his back lightly until he’s able to breathe normally. He pushes himself up onto his arms and glances down when he pulls out, staring for a moment at the way your pussy gapes a bit, watching the trickle of cum drip down your folds and onto the bed. He rubs his hand over his jaw and licks his lips, shaking his head—at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Your tongue is a little thick when you fill the void for him, “Next time, towel first.”

He finds it within himself to tear his eyes away from your cunt and gives you a crooked little grin, “Next time?”

You roll your eyes, but your grin is stupid with affection, “Sure, next time. Maybe. If you’re good.”

It’s a little disgusting, the way he just rolls over and pulls you on top of him with absolutely no regard for the various bodily fluids sticking to your skin, but you forget about the unpleasantness of drying cum and cooling sweat when he kisses you. “I’m always good,” he huffs against your cheek. You shoot him a look, brows arched and eyes narrowed, and he smirks, “Okay, maybe not, but I’m always good for you.”

You nuzzle in a little closer and scoff, but it’s true. Stiles is so good, always—especially for you. “I guess you did manage to woo me. You’re very sexy when you’re talkin’ astrology, you know that?”

He smiles, wide and happy, and wiggles his brows, “An absolute banger of an ending, right? I don’t think they could chart it in the stars without ruining your pretty face, but that’s probably for the best.” Stiles brushes his fingers over your lips when you let out a little questioning hum and takes your hand, growling playfully as he nibbles at your fingertips, “You’re mine. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this but me—definitely not horny little nerds with their telescopes.”

You grin and bump your nose against his, “You’re a horny little nerd with a telescope.”

Stiles tips his head with a sly grin, and you already know what he’s going to say—it’s still devastatingly adorable when he whispers, “No, I’m your horny little nerd with a telescope.”

Adorable enough to make you consider pulling him into the shower with you, and if the heavy-lidded look he’s giving you is anything to go by, you’d say he agrees.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Drabble Roulette: You get what you give

For this round, drabbles are written based on a random choice of character and image from this pinterest board. Pls feel free to keep adding to it.

Character: Andy Barber

Prompt

Warnings: this drabble includes elements such as mentions of alcoholism and cheating. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

Andy Barber.

You'd know him anywhere but you didn't expect him there. The tight-ass, straight-laced family man in a place like this. His department store suit stands out on the dingy bar. So does the woman grinding in his lap. She's not his wife.

He has one hand on a pint of foamy beer and his other on her ass. He encourages her with a growl as she nips at the air before him. The tension is palpable.

Your hand rests on your phone as you hide on the gloom at the other end of the bar. Your vodka tonic is forgotten as quickly as the shitty day you hoped to drown in it. Your thumb hovers above Laurie's name, hesitant, calculating.

Andy fucking Barber.

That jackass with the side eye. You're not stupid. You heard what he said about you. He didn't realise you were in his bathroom, that you were witness to yet another row with his long tortured wife.

Well, you might be a goddamn drunk but you're not a fucking cheater. The only man in your life is the bartender.

You flick away your contact list. Instead, you tap the camera icon and swipe into recording mode. You carefully angle the lens up to catch the screen. Yoi watch through the screen as the woman straddles him, grazing her fingers through his beard as she draws him into a sloppy kiss.

Oh yes, it's very messy indeed.

🍺

You expect chaos when you hit send. It isn’t thoughtless or spiteful. The truth is the truth. As he always says, honesty is the greatest virtue of all. You always roll your eyes when he goes on his exhaustive lectures; often treating Laurie no different than their son.

‘Sorry, Laurie. I didn’t think you’d believe me but proof is in the pudding.’

Maybe there is a bit of spite left in you. You hope she’s happy now. Andy may have been right about you but you were just as on point about him. Let it burn, you might just smell some of the ashes as they settle.

Days pass. No response. You don’t expect one. You were surprised she didn’t block your number when she cut you off. You wouldn’t have blamed her either. But you can still hate them all.

It’s not Laurie, it’s him. He shows up at your office. You sit behind reception where you always do and tuck away the flask you keep in your bottom drawer. Shit.

“Hello, sir, how can I help--”

“Don’t fucking do that,” he points over the top of the square desk and grips the edge, “you know why I’m here.”

You can’t help a smirk. You wiggle a pen and innocently tap your bottom lip, “I’m sorry, did you have a meeting with one of our agents?”

“You are fucking low,” he snarls.

“Ah, yes, but seems like we frequent the same gutters,” you sneer back. “She looked young. Did you check her ID? You might not just be a creep, you could be a criminal, Mr. ADA.”

“Fuck you,” he bends over the higher shelf of the desk, “do you have any idea what the fuck you’ve done?”

“Mr. Barber,” you reach for the phone, resting your hand on the receiver, “if you don’t calm down, I’ll have to call security.”

He quakes with rage as his face turns red, “you’re a fucking bitch.”

“Might be, but at least I’m not a cheater--”

“Alcoholic slut,” he sneers.

You lift the receiver and hit speed dial. You stare him down as you do, “hi, Joey, yes, I have a client here who’s a bit... aggressive, do you mind coming up here? Thank you.”

You wink at Andy and put the phone down as you sit back. He glares back at you and stands straight. He puffs through his nose like raging bull.

“Just you fucking wait,” he threatens as he retreats, “you ruined my fucking life. I’m gonna burn yours to the ground.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #drabble roulette #defending jacob

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eyelessfaces · 7 months

Text

he'll be gone in the morning

llewyn davis x reader

summary: you wish he would stay. he never does.

alternatively, two times llewyn is gone when you wake up, one time he's not yet.

warnings: there's honestly more smut than plot lol this was an excuse to write llewyn smut; unprotected piv sex (this man never learns), tipsy sex where both parts consent and are aware of what's happening, creampie, oral f receiving, praise kink, both parts are desperate, plot is based on angst, fear of abandonment i guess?, self doubt from both parts, a bit of self sabotaging from llewyn because is it really an oscar isaac character if he's not self destructive

tags: friends to ??lovers I guess, f!reader, unspoken feelings, reader has hair that's long enough to brush away from her face, fluff, yearning

word count: 2.8k

I haven't been sane about llewyn for the past few days. again. it usually takes me weeks to write smut because it makes me go insane but I wrote this in like eight hours so...... yeah. not sane about this man at all.

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog @eyelessupdates

It’s the same as always; he slept there last night, on your worn out couch, too old for him not to get a sore back after a whole night on it. You remember looking back at him as he tucked a pillow behind his head, a soft smile over his lips when he looked over at you before you turned the light off and reluctantly disappeared through the hallway to go to your room, by yourself.

He’s gone now, his own blanket you had gifted him on his most recent birthday messily folded and put back where it usually rests. If it wasn’t for the unfinished cup of coffee and the ashtray gathering a few cigarette butts sitting over your coffee table, it would be like he was never there in the first place.

He almost always disappears before you can join him and tell him good morning, always escapes before you get the opportunity to ask him to stay for one more night, to get him to be sure he has a place to stay at the end of the day.

He never writes notes anymore the way he used to the first few times you let him crash at your place, like he’s now used to your kindness; you don’t mind, you’re glad he feels comfortable staying here to the point where he doesn’t have to apologize when he knocks at your door anymore.

You don’t mind, it’s the whole opposite actually; you just wished he would stay.

—

Your cheeks are hot from the booze, or maybe – no, most definitely – from Llewyn’s mouth on your neck.

His beard is softly tickling your sensitive skin as he kisses and nips at it, forcing a – treacherous – almost silent whimper out of your mouth at the same time you sink your head into the pillows to grant him more access. It makes him laugh, it fucking makes him laugh smugly to see how he’s turning you into putty in his hands. Your hand instinctively buries in his hair to get a grasp onto something, and he gets a taste of his own little game when you softly tug on his thick curls and earn a small moan from him. Good to know.

Your body only feels warmer when his hands roam along the sides of it, slowly but surely stripping you of your layers until your top half is completely bare as he continues his assault over your neck, biting and sucking on it, making sure there will be visible proof that he went there for the guys staring at you too intensely at the bar to see.

Then his mouth trails down, again and again. He takes his precious time kissing your collarbone, the top of each breast, from your sternum down to your stomach. You cup the back of his neck as his curls softly tickle your skin and as he brings a special attention to your lower stomach, not giving in what he knows you need, teasing as his fingers press onto your hips before they eventually curl into the hem of your underwear as he continues leaving small, warm kisses to your stomach, sliding the piece of clothing off your hips and down your legs before he tosses it away.

When he finally moves and spreads your legs apart, it’s not to slide his warm tongue over your cunt like you would expect or hope for, it’s to gently kiss your left thigh and run his hand over your skin burning in the feverish heat of anticipation; the prickle of his beard softly teases the ticklish inside of your thigh, his warm mouth just inches away from where you truly want him, the sensations increased tenfold by the booze. Each trail of his hands and mouth leaves you more sensitive, head spinning already when he’s not even giving you what he knows you truly want from him yet.

When his mouth shifts again, it’s to give your other thigh the same treatment; soft nibbles while his hand gently caresses your warm skin before he runs the tip of his nose from the inside of your thigh up to your knee, looking back up at you desperately waiting for him to do anything concrete.

“Llewyn please” you whine needily, throwing your head back into the cushions of your bed as he chuckles and slowly makes his way down to the inside of your thigh again, hot breath teasingly fanning there.

“Tell me what you need, angel” he demands, murmuring close to where you want him as his thumb softly brushes your bare thigh. His eyes dart back to you, raising an eyebrow when you only whine his name as a response.

“You” you slur out, fingers wrapping around his forearm to get something to hold onto. His warm, half lidded eyes make something flutter inside your stomach, his mouth and hot breath close to your soaking slit making your breath halt. “Please”

You softly gasp as both of his hands squeeze the flesh of your ass, firmly grabbing onto it to pull your body closer towards him, no longer intent on teasing you or making you wait; he'd make you beg longer if he wasn't so damn eager to taste you.

He dives in and presses his flattened tongue against your folds, and you feel the same way you did earlier when you got to your feet after a few drinks; your head spins, your lower stomach burns just the way it did when drinking that whiskey.

It's a bit messy, a bit rushed and maybe even desperate but not even close to being unpleasant as his tongue laps at your slit, beard harshly rubbing against your sensitive skin.

He hums to himself as his lips close around your clit, sucking and pulling weak moans out of you, looking up at your through half lidded eyes when his middle finger slowly and carefully pushes inside your slick channel, his free hand stroking along your thigh caging his head.

He’d praise you more if his mouth wasn’t so damn busy, if your reactions weren’t so damn attractive as he mouthed at you pussy and wouldn't dare stopping, because you look so fucking pretty like this. Disheveled, high on pleasure for him, twitching under his tongue and clenching around the finger inside you.

His ring finger is quick to join alongside the other, stroking your tight walls until he meets the spot that makes your back arch and your breath run short.

He’s barely satisfied until he makes you come on his mouth and fingers twice, until his name and your weak moans and whines are all that can come out of your mouth, until your legs are shaking around his head, until you have to ask him to ease up.

Your chest heaves heavily, your whole body burning and seeming to melt into the mattress from the couple orgasms Llewyn just gave you. You smile dazedly when you look back down at him in between your legs, his cheek mushed against your thigh, his eyes closing contentedly when you run your fingers through his dark locks.

You feel your heart thump hard inside your chest again when he crawls back up to you, his mouth pressing against yours before it opens to let his tongue slip inside.

Your movements are hurried as you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, impatiently blindly progressively getting it open before you’re finally able to slide it off his shoulders.

You hum a soft, reluctant groan into his mouth when you realize he’s wearing an undershirt, meaning that you’ll have to pull apart from his mouth to get it off. He takes care of the task, stripping himself off the tshirt before throwing it across the room, and quickly links your mouths again when he hovers over you, letting out a deep groan when you cup and feel him through his pants.

You can't help but smile into the kiss when he chases your touch, all but humping your hand before you pull it away to undo his pants, his tongue desperately licking into your mouth when he hurriedly – and a bit messily – strips himself naked. You’re pulled away from his mouth as he looks down when your hand closes around him and pumps his cock, his breath halting, hips thrusting to meet your movements.

Your leg snakes behind him to pull him closer, your chest burning again with anticipation when he takes his cock in hand and aligns with your entrance. You both let out a synchronized groan as he carefully pushes inside, easily sliding in, your sensitive channel slick from your previous orgasms, but still tight around him.

He’s gentle as he starts to thrust in, hand firmly planted besides your head, teeth sunk into his bottom lip in concentration. His vision sways from the alcohol; it was way less noticeable when he had his face in between your legs, when he didn’t have to use the rest of his body, when he didn’t have to rely on balance.

His eyes close when your hand cups his cheek, fingers softly scratching his beard while you whisper praises he’s far too gone to truly take into account, too lost in the feeling of your cunt softly contracting around him. His thrusts grow more and more desperate as he goes, less precise, the muscles of his thighs twitching as the familiar feeling quickly starts to gather inside his stomach, exhaling moans like laying in bed with you is a one time opportunity, like it’s the last time he’s ever gonna do this.

“Not gonna last long,” he mumbles dazedly between breaths before you quickly assure him that it’s okay, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull his face close to yours again.

His tongue mingles with yours in a heated, desperate kiss before he pulls away and sinks his head against your shoulder, huffing out a loud breath when he feels himself getting close, trying not to tip over the edge before you do.

“Come on dove, come on” he begs you, his warm breath fanning over your neck when one of his hands gently holds onto your waist.

He feels like a lucky bastard that you come just seconds before he does; you let a soft cry out as your last orgasm hits you, this one softer than the two previous ones, feeling like a warmth washing through you as Llewyn stills when he reaches his end and spills inside you, eyes rolling back as a soft groan escapes his lips.

His body crumbles over yours as he lets out a loud sigh, pressing small kisses to your cheek, fingers softly running along your arm.

You want to give the affection back to him, want to kiss him until he's out of breath, but all your body does is close your eyes; Llewyn has drawn all the energy out of you, he has loved you until you became numb.

You instinctively know it's early in the morning when your mind awakes, an unpleasant heaviness clouding your head from the alcohol, and a soft ache between your thighs. You hum softly in your still half asleep state, turning around and changing positions to get more comfortable, reaching for the man you spent the night with, hoping you could snuggle to him.

Your eyes are still shut as you reach for Llewyn, your hand only passing along the ruffles and creases of the fitted sheets of your bed.

Your eyes eventually open when you know you have to come to terms with the fact that he’s gone, he’s fucking gone again.

—

You don’t know how it has happened again when you only wanted to address the issue at first, still mad at him when he knocked and when you opened the door, still mad that he had left like you were just a meaningless one night stand the other night, someone he would never see or hear about again.

But then he seemed so exhausted, so out of it and so crushed by every responsibility resting over his shoulders that you figured it would be better to bother him with the question later instead of overburdening him now.

Then things slipped, again. So fast and so casually at once, like it was simultaneously the right and wrong thing to do.

You don’t know why he’s in your bed again, but maybe on your part you do, because you will have to one day just admit that you love him.

You can’t help but feel like you’re missing something regarding him. Why is he in your bed again, sober, head resting over your chest and arms tightly wrapped around your waist if it was all the alcohol’s fault that you stepped further into your relationship the other night? Why is he in your bed again if he regretted it last time and felt he had to run away, again?

You swallow thickly as those questions overwhelmingly cloud your mind, trying to chase them away when you continue to absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft, long curls. It’d be a damn mood breaker to trap him into questions like while you’re still enjoying your respective post-high haze, and you would pass as too fucking ungrateful after the things you have just done, but you have to know why he acts like this, why he runs away but somehow always comes back.

“Llewyn,” his name weakly comes out of your mouth, your fingers stopping in their trail. You can hear your own breathing when you await his response, which eventually never comes.

He's sound asleep; it'll wait, again.

—

You had almost forgotten Llewyn had been there last night when you wake up to the sound of ruffling around the bedroom.

The only source of light in your room is the full moon light seeping through your window, faint but present enough to make you aware of your surroundings.

Llewyn is standing on the other side of the room, gathering his clothes scattered around the room that you so carelessly threw aside when in a hurry last night.

“What’re you doing” you mumble sleepily as you roll over his side of the bed, arm extending as if to reach for him. He looks over at you like a deer caught in headlights, stopping as his pants are already halfway slid up his thighs.

“I uh, I have to head out” he replies in a low mutter as he resumes his action, approaching and shoving in his pocket the pack of cigarettes laying on the bedside table.

“Don’t,” his gaze darts back at you as you speak, stopping in his movements, in fear that he might have heard it wrong. “Stay” you demand, almost beg as you look up at him, almost all ready to go and leave you hanging like always. He exhales softly and sits down over the edge of the bed, hand reaching out to you to brush your hair back from your face. “Please.” you add, tiredly blinking.

“Okay.” he simply declares in a soft whisper, fingers gently tracing your face. Your eyes close as you lean into his touch, sleep still holding a tight grasp over you.

“Why do you keep leaving” you monotonically, weakly ask, your tone successfully translating the hurt you feel. “All the time”

He halts and pulls away from you, like your reproach suddenly makes him undeserving of touching you. He takes some time before answering, and you're almost lulled back to sleep before the sound of his voice brings you back to reality and makes you open your eyes again. “I don't want you to think I'm doing all this just for a bed to sleep in” he explains, lips pinching skeptically.

You huff out softly, nuzzling against your arm. “It makes me think you're doing this just for a vagina to stick your dick in, Llewyn.”

“Shit, yeah. I'm sorry” he scoffs and sighs, looking out the window in reflection before looking back at you. “It's just– It's the whole opposite. I care about you. I don't wanna fuck this up” he declares, his hand coming to rest over your extended arm. “I didn't start right, I know. I’m sorry angel.” he pauses, softly chewing on his bottom lip. “I thought it was the right thing to do.”

You exhale, somehow ironically relieved that it's only this, that you're not the main part of the problem, that he actually wants you as much as you do. Your stomach flutters at the feeling of his thumb softly rubbing your bare skin, and you weakly but softly smile when you finally look back up at him.

“I only ever wanted you to stay” you mutter, hand reaching to cover his over your arm.

He tiredly smiles back at you, at last erasing the conflicted frown over his face.

“I only ever wanted to stay.”

—

SUPPORT YOUR FANFICS WRITERS, REBLOG, LEAVE A COMMENT, IT IS WHAT KEEPS US GOING!!!!

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @spxctorsslxt @dowbastan

#llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis smut #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #sorry for the tags it's just to reach more people^^#oscar isaac

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sourpeachsayshi · 7 months

Note

omg peach if you could write a little something for me and sukuna in a garden 🌺 thank you!!

༺tags༻ virgin!princess reader; demon king sukuna; haunting au; reader is watched; suggestive; describes the reader's hair "sukuna plays with he strand"; size difference; all characters are 21+

༺notes: I want to write more of this!! thank you for sending this ask in!! ༻

your palace is cursed by the being who originally built it. countless of stories have been shared between the maids and workers. as a result keeping staff was difficult, but as the princess you had nowhere else to run.

this is your home.

you’ve never thought much of it until recently, when you began spotting a pair of red eyes in the shadows. when you started hearing the echo of a dark laugh through the empty hallways. feel the tickle of hot air against your neck whenever you undress, before catching a tall, broad figure in the reflection of your mirror.

you were being watched.

your heart flutters wearily in your chest, while you hold the lantern in your hand. you're light on your feet, careful not to make a sound. "momo?" you whisper, your eyes squinting in search for the warm fur of your beloved kitten. you don't know what possessed her to bound out of your bedroom and run down the hallways so erratically. but here you are now, all alone on the massive palace grounds trying to find her.

the wind brushes against your cheek, making you spin on your heels nervously, but you see nothing and can only hear the soft rustle of the leaves from the trees. you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, swallowing your fear as you continue trudging between the bushes and flowers.

you don't want to leave her out here all by herself.

"momo?" you repeat, speaking a little louder this time even though there's a crack in your voice.

you just can't stop thinking about those red eyes.

you stand in place for a few seconds, slumping your shoulders in defeat. you're unable to shake off the eerie feeling despite the peaceful scene around you. you've moved deeper into the garden now, the beautiful grounds bathing underneath the glow of the soft moon. your bare feet cold against the earth.

you sniffle quietly to yourself, rubbing the tip of your icy nose. you conclude that you'll just have to ask the guards to find her in the morning, and as you take a step back to turn around and return to your quarters, you feel yourself hit a tree.

your heart quivers. your robe is caught within it's sharp branches, but as you drop your guard to try and untangle yourself, you freeze when you notice the figure behind you move.

"shouldn't you be in bed, your highness?"

the blood drains from your face, your ears ring out of fear at the sound of the low, gruff voice.

you slowly drop your hands by your side. your fingers relaxing uneasily before letting go of the lantern.

it lands on the ground perfectly with a tiny thump.

the catch tightens against your waist, only then do you recognize the touch of a hand.

"you're usually asleep at this hour," he adds on.

the shadow moves, circling around you like a predator whose finally caught it's prey. your eyes draw up at the presence of his daunting height, your lips parting in awe identifying those familiar irises.

there was a heavy aura surrounding him, the crisp air now thick and making it harder for you to breathe. he's wearing a black robe, most of his chest exposed to reveal the intricate tattoos on his body. his hair reminded you of autumn, the fiery change of the leaves just before they turned a muted brown. he looked human, just like you, but the chill seizing your spine was a staunch reminder that he isn't.

he's not of this world. he's nothing like you.

"looking for something?" he teases, bringing forward the hand hidden behind his back.

he slightly unfurls his fingers, revealing your precious kitten in his palm. she somehow looks even smaller, her paws latched to his finger as she nips her small fangs into his skin.

you tremble as you reach for her, but the being moves his hand behind his back.

he clicks his tongue, curling his spine forward to meet your face. "not even a thank you, your highness?" he remarks with disapproval, feigning his distaste by pinching his brow.

"please," you whisper quietly, fully consumed by fear.

"remembered your manners, I see..." he chuckles, his free hand moving to touch the strands of your hair. his eyes fall to the lock between his fingers, which he twirls with playful ease. "my wife had a pet too. a white cat named yuki..."

your chest rises and falls heavily when you notice the distance in his eyes. the red deepens as memories bleed through but he is quick to blink back into the present.

"please don't hurt her...or-or me..." you beg, remembering your old maiden stating that if you show respect to the ancient demon king, then he may spare your life.

the being quirks his brow. "I've had my eyes on you this whole time, princess. have I hurt you yet?"

your heart drops to the pit of the stomach at his confirmation, affirming what you've been suspicious of this whole time.

you shake your head no.

he releases your hair, his fingers curling carefully around your throat. "thank me properly," he commands, using his thumb to outline the curve of your bottom lip.

your cheeks burn. no man has ever touched you this intimately before. but your move on instinct, submitting to his will in the hopes to leave his clutches. you stand on your tiptoes to meet him halfway, pressing your lips into the corner of his mouth where you leave a chaste peck.

you drop back on your heels but he doesn't loosen his hold just yet. your pulse skips over itself when he tightens his fingers instead, his eyes boring into your own.

they looked somber.

"you look so much like her," he whispers, the gentle tone of his voice catching you off guard as everything else around you goes still.

seconds pass until he unravels himself. taking your shaking hands into his own where he carefully hands off your kitten. you curl the tiny animal into your chest, your body tingling unexpectedly.

"you better run back before they notice that you're gone,"he warns, the timbre of his voice rough and unsettling. "or before I decide to keep you here for good."

you squeeze you legs unexpectedly as you nod your head, then dash back towards the palace, and leaving your lantern behind.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x female reader #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen au #sukuna au

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wordsaresimple-imnot · 5 months

Note

smut ,Joe liebgot and the reader dry humping and slightly pleasing eachother in there foxhole in the cold

Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Anon, I loved this prompt! Thank you! I hope you enjoy it! ;)

Warnings: 18+ content sorta, dry humping, making-out, cursing, she/her pronouns, 1st person pov (female).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: This was fun to write and I enjoyed the idea a lot! Hope y'all enjoy it! Please comment, like, reblog :) :)

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

Another gust of wind lifts the tarp covering the top of our foxhole, blasting cold, wet air around us effectively stealing what little warmth we'd managed build up around ourselves.

"Goddamn it! When this is over, I never want to see the rain or snow ever again." I grumble, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, but it's damp and can only do so much.

"Quit bitching, you're ruining the mood." Liebgott smirks at the glare I shoot him.

"Fuck you." Any venom I have in my voice is lost as my teeth chatter.

"Would love to, but it's too cold." I see him shiver slightly.

"Glad to know that's the only reason." I roll my eyes.

"Course it is." He shoots me a wink and I feel a little bit of heat crawl up my neck and cheeks. Suddenly I'm thankful it's pitch black right now so he can't see my blush.

"Shut up." I mutter half heartedly, shoving his shoulder before attempting to get comfortable next to him. We are silent for a few minutes as, I assume, we try to get semi warm enough to doze a little until he speaks again.

"You know...sharing body heat is a great way to get warm." His voice is low but the words bounce around us on the wind. Again, I send a thank you to the universe that he can't see how flushed I am. I turn my head to tell him to shut up again and find his eyes already on me. The heat in his eyes has the words dying on my tongue.

"What?" Is all I can manage to get out, which I mentally kick myself for. Real smooth. His hand slips out from under his own blanket and grabs mine, tugging me towards him.

"Come here." He moves me around like I'm his own personal ragdoll, rearranging our blankets so one's over the top of our heads and shoulders and the other is around my back with the ends tucked behind him. The new position has be straddling his lap, our bodies centimeters away and our faces so close we are sharing each others breathes. I can feel his hands rubbing up and down my thighs, squeezing my hips every other time. My own arms are draped around his shoulders.

Joe nudges my nose with his. "Told you this would be warmer." All I can do is nod, making him smirk. "I don't know about you, but my lips are still cold."

At his words my eyes drop down to his lips and watch as his tongue runs over them, then look back to his eyes that haven't lost their heat. I make the split second decision to worry about the consequences and what-ifs at a later date and close the gap between us. He eagerly kisses me back, moving one hand to the back of my neck to hold my head where he wants it, while the other wraps around my waist to keep me flush against him.

Our tongues meet and we enjoy a long exploration of each others mouths; licking and sucking and nipping. After a particularly sharp bite on my bottom lip, I grind down onto his lap and then groan at the feel of his growing erection beneath me. I grind down again and this time Joe groans with me.

"Do it again, baby." He pleads against my lips. When I do he kisses me again to muffle the noises we make. I move one of my hands to grip his upper arm tightly to help my leverage and swivel my hips until I find the angle that gives us both the pleasure we need. Once I find that I set a hard pace that Joe eagerly lifts his hips to match.

Soon the cold around us is forgotten as we focus on keeping the other quiet and chasing the pleasure building inside us. Joe lets go of my neck and I feel both his hands grabbing my ass, using it to press me harder against him. My pace starts to become erratic.

"Fuck, I'm close Joe." Joe gives me a hard nip on my jawline and whispers in my ear.

"I got you, let go baby." My head turns to the side and I bite down hard on his shoulder, trying to hide my moan as much as possible. As I'm coming down from my high, I feel Joe's movements becoming more frantic. I turn my head away from his shoulder, nipping at the bit of flesh exposed on his neck and then his jawline.

Three thrusts later he stills beneath me, breathing heavily as he lets out curses and my name. We melt even more into each other, enjoying the post-orgasm bliss and warmth we created around us. Just as I'm drifting off, I feel Joe drop a kiss on the top of my head and my heart flutters.

But that's something to address at a later time.

#joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #fic request #anon request #hbo war #hbo band of brothers

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kyberblade · 7 months

Text

Say That Again…. Please. (Din x Reader) - A Back To You Drabble

A/N: Idk. Don’t even look at me. It just happened, okay? (I’ve read over this so many times to proof read it, but I add to it each time, so now we’re just going to yeet it into the universe and hope it’s not gibberish. Okay? Okay.) I think this happens sometime after Part 18? I’m not sure, but I think inadvertently it just ended up there in my mind. I always thought they were kinda closer way before this, but also, not? Idk. I make no sense even to myself. Plot wise this is where it makes sense, so we’ll go with that.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Word count: 2,767

Warnings: Din is an absolute menace like always. Maybe some language? I can’t remember. (Look, I’ve read over this so many times, I can’t remember where I landed.) Absolute tooth rotting fluff. Suggestive language and behavior, but nothing directly stated, just absolute menace behavior once again. Helmetless Din…. Sort of. What? Who said that? 🤨 Copious amounts of me slipping the phrase back to you into sentences in ways I think are sly and endearing.

Synopsis: Here we find a wild Mandalorian and his Mesh’la in their native habitat…. Here in this throwback to the first time things got a little frisky between these two. (Don’t worry, it’s still PG-13. 😉)

A huge thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for once again reading this 5,000 times and saying I’m not insane.

| Series Masterlist |

Xxx

Crowding you back into the bulkhead, Din chuckled softly when you let out a quiet huff of air as your spine hit the cold metal of the hull.

The familiar press of beskar came to rest against your forehead, making you grin as your eyes fluttered shut. But all too soon, the cool touch of steel was rolling down and away, accompanied by a mechanical hiss that made your brows screw up in question.

Before you could say a word or even open your eyes, the warmth of Din’s breath cascaded across your chest, making the last of your oxygen leave you in a rush. The prickle of his facial hair tickled as he lightly mouthed at your neck from bottom to top, taking his time as he went.

It took you a moment, but you realized he had tilted the helmet back just enough to expose the lower half of his face, like he did when he ate with you and the kid in the privacy of the ship. Try as you might, your breath continued to stutter in your chest, and you felt the upturn of his lips in response as he made his way upward.

He stopped just behind your ear, his lips surprisingly soft as they rounded to catch your lobe between them, the blunt tips of his front teeth coming out to play as he nipped at the flesh softly. “Mesh’la…..” His quiet voice came, whispered just for you to hear. “So beautiful…..”

“D-Din,” you tried softly, the Mandalorian groaning at the sound of his name on your lips as you attempted to clear your throat.

He let go of your ear and tucked back into your neck, his helmet riding back a little higher with the movement, exposing the tip of his nose to brush just right behind your ear. “Say that again…. please.” His hands began to pull your own up toward the armor on his chest, and further up onto his shoulders.

“Din,” you grinned at the unabashed groan that tumbled from his unmodulated lips, “are you sure? I don’t want to-”

The bounty hunter went stiff in your arms, his upper body and face pulling back and away from you just enough that you could see the slight downturn of his features. Nothing concrete, as he was too close, and you quickly averted your eyes down to his neck out of habit, but in the blur of your peripherals, you saw the rough curve of facial hair trying to conceal a saddened expression, but you were quick to wrap him in your hold, reassuring him with your words mumbled into his shoulder.

“No! No, Din,” even now he let out a quiet hiss through clenched teeth at his name from your lips, making you chuckle with a gentle shake of your head. “I only meant, you giant Tin Can,” you snaked your hand that rested on his chest plate up and around the back of his neck, tracing light figures on the warm exposed skin there as he melted into your palm, the rest of his body quickly closing the distance he’d pulled away and molding back into you, his hands landing softly back onto your hips. “I don’t want,” you reiterated with emphasis before carding your hand up into the small tuft of his exposed curls and giving them a gentle yank that made his breath stutter deliciously, and the side of his mouth quirk up to meet a dimple in your peripherals as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in front of your face. Your voice went soft. “I don’t want to go breaking your Creed for just a moment of-”

“You’re worth it,” he cut you off, your hands suddenly pinned at your sides against the wall, and his face once again tucked into your neck mercilessly. Any inch of skin he could touch, he was. It was like it was his mission. And he always followed through. Mando always got his man. “Besides, I know what I’m doing, mesh’la.”

You can say that again, you found yourself thinking, feeling your stomach sink into your feet when Din chuckled in response. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Instead of dragging it out, Din mercifully went back to the subject at hand, and you let out a thankful breath as you listened. “No Creeds will be broken.” He moved his kisses across your clavicle to your right side. “No vows,” he worked his way up, “No promises….” He was right over your lips now. “But just to be absolutely clear, like I said….” His voice had trailed off to a low murmur. “You would be worth it.”

You couldn’t take the breath you were trying to manage as you stared at his askew helmet. “Don’t say that,” you whispered. Try as you might, your eyes landed on his lips and wouldn’t look away, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He was partly cast in shadows from the way his helmet was seated and the lighting of the cargo hold. You couldn’t even really tell a shade if someone held a blaster to your head.

But, oh, the way they turned upward.

It had your stomach doing stupid things.

“It’s true,” Din smirked.

Oh, this won’t do at all.

Slinking your leg between his, you switched your weight and threw him to the ground. Landing on top of him, you let yourself feel a short burst of pride at the soft oomph! he let out on impact.

Ignoring the desire to look at what was exposed of his now well lit face, you stared at the diamond in the center of his chestplate. Your hands were braced on either side of it in an attempt to hold him down, as you straddled his waist.

“Din, you're not thinking straight.”

In an instant, the Mandalorian had flipped the two of you over so he was on top, your wrists pinned to the ground in his grasp on either side of your head as you glared up at him.

“This would be much more menacing if your helmet were on straight.”

Din only smiled a tight lipped grin, like he was trying to hold it back, the curve of his mouth turning up one side more than the other in a lopsided smirk of amusement while he continued to hold you down. He was backlit now, so once again you could only vaguely see, but Din’s emotions always seemed to have their own tone. It wasn’t much of a leap.

The bounty hunter adjusted his weight, moving his lower half so his legs that were one between yours and one outside by your hip, were now between both of yours and applying just enough pressure to keep you down.

“Can I get up, please?” You bemoaned, lightly struggling in his grip.

“Do you really want to?” He jibed, gently rolling his hips into yours and making your eyes go wide at the soft groan that fell from your mouth unbidden. “Besides,” his voice lowered as he did, his face now inches from yours as he lifted your hands and set them on his pauldrons. “I think now you’ll actually listen to me.”

“Think again, flyboy,” you whispered. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you attempted yet again to flip the two of you, but Din kept the momentum going and once again landed on top, the same lopsided grin twisting up his face as you pointedly stared at his equally lopsided visor.

Despite his obvious amusement, his tone was dry. “That was cute.”

As he brought your hands to rest on his pauldrons once more, you sighed, rocking your head back and forth, your eyes falling to rest on the glimmering beskar covering his chest. “No. No, Din. I’m not going to be the reason you-”

“That’s right,” he cut you off, bracing his weight on his right forearm and reaching across with his left to press a button on his vambrace that sent the cargo hold of the Crest into nearly complete darkness. “You won’t be.”

As you stared at the blinking red, green, and white lights of a panel on your left to let your eyes adjust to the new twilight, the quiet thud of beskar on the hold floor pulled your attention back to him. Once again, your breath caught in your chest.

All you could see was his silhouette, the hold of the ship only illuminated by several barely lit panels, their various array of blinking colors casting the ship in an odd mood that seemed to breathe as the light faded in and out, trading one color for the next. No features were available in the dull light, just shadows, but still you closed your eyes on instinct, your face screwed up from the effort.

Din let out a snort of amusement. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

You winced. “Din….”

This time you both groaned, and it quickly devolved into quiet shared laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

Din’s voice was soft. “Mesh’la…. Open your eyes. It’s okay.” When your eyes still remained shut, Din sighed. He almost sounded sad. Or was that hopeful? Could they be the same thing? “I trust you.”

As you slowly blinked your eyes open, both to adjust to the low light and to make sure Din was absolutely sure, the Mandalorian guided your hands to his armor for a final time, helping you through the foreign motions of removing the beskar plates.

He’d never had you help with this before. Sure, you’d watched a time or two when he had to make repairs on a single piece, like that time the whistling birds became the multiple random flying projectiles that ejected whenever they wanted on the tiny ship in hyperspace.

Or when he was about to step into the fresher when you were staying somewhere going after a bounty…. He’d often remove most of it, and you’d quickly busy yourself with the kid or cleaning your blaster, or he’d start to, then notice you were making a point of averting your eyes and he’d quickly step into the fresher to finish the job.

You always felt bad when he’d duck into the tiny little rooms to finish, they usually barely offered enough room to even breathe and stand in, let alone remove armor and store it somewhere until after your shower.

But you just weren’t willing to be the reason he broke his Creed, no matter how relaxed he was. Or trusting. One wayward glance, and his entire way of life was gone. No matter how badly you wanted to just turn around and smile when he cracked a joke during these times, or would fuss over the kid…. Or say your name. It’d be so easy to just turn around, and….

No. It was easier to just never look the other way. Never look back toward him.

Now, however, the Mandalorian was right in your line of sight, or rather his silhouette was, and he was doing everything he could to keep you from looking the other way. To keep your eyes on him, your hands busy with his armor as it fell away piece by piece.

As the man beneath the metal slowly came into view beneath your fingertips, you smiled.

He was just like you pictured.

What you could feel through his flight suit…. Warmth, muscle, the raised edges of a scar and a concealed weapon…. He fit every bit the picture inside your head, and the grin on your face continued to grow.

“What?”

You startled at his voice, eyes darting up to where his face should be. “You can see me?”

His silhouette shook its head. “Don’t have to. Your breathing changes when you smile. Always has.”

Brows knit together as your expression turned into something slightly sour, you looked up at him through your lashes. “That’s only slightly terrifying, Shiny,” you mumbled, disengaging the left pauldron as he chuckled.

Din leaned in closer to you, his nose nearly brushing against your own as his warm breath fanned out against your face. It made you startle just a bit, the feeling of a living breathing being beside you aside from the kid a foreign and frightening thing in the darkness surrounding you. He seemed to understand immediately, and was quick to soothe any remaining jitters away, shifting his weight up slightly and shimmying off his gloves right above your head so he could cup your cheeks with his bare hands.

As his calloused fingers wound into the hair right above your ears, you were shuddering for an entirely different reason.

“I know everything about you, mesh’la.” His bare forehead fell to rest on yours, the warm touch of his skin in place of the usual cold kiss of beskar you were used to instantly melting the scowling crease from between your brows, and causing your eyes to flutter. “That’s my job.”

Looking up at him through your lashes once again, you snorted out a laugh. “As what, my traveling companion?” Your hands moved to his chestplate.

This dance had gone round and round for the two of you for so long you’d lost count, now. Admitting feelings, admitting caring, but never exactly what. It was driving you mad, honestly.

Sure, it was shallow, trying to find out this way what exactly you were to the Mandalorian, especially when the two of you were in the…. Position you were currently in.

But needs must.

“That, and,” he said in a voice that said he knew exactly what you were trying to get at, as he helped you disengage the large piece of beskar across his torso, leaning back just enough to remove it himself and set it off to the side before he was back to trying to burrow under your skin and into your very bones.

Leaning your head to the side to give him better access, he made his way up and down your neck with soft kisses that were making your toes begin to curl inside your boots. “Yes?” You prodded when he didn’t go on, your voice surprisingly strong despite how distracted you felt. One of your hands came up to thread through the curls at the back of his head, your fingertips massaging his scalp lightly to try and bring his attention back to you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled softly, pulling back to look at your face. Your hand still tucked in his curls slid down to the side of his neck with the movement, and he turned his face into your forearm, mumbling into your skin, “Got distracted.” After he offered the inside of your wrist one last lingering kiss, Din turned back to face you again, and lightly ran the tip of his nose along the left side of your own. “Yes, your traveling companion, but also your friend. Partner.” He pulled back just enough that the tips of your noses were barely touching, his voice dropping lower in both volume and octave. “Lover.” Din moved after a moment to brush his nose along the right side of yours, softly kissing the apple of your cheek before adding the words mumbled against your skin, “You’re my other half, mesh’la.”

You couldn’t help the grin that was climbing up your face.

Sliding your right hand that was still resting on his neck up to cup his cheek gently, you let it fall down to clutch at his cowl that was still draped around his shoulders, shrouding the two of you in a familiar warmth you hoped never actually disintegrated like you always joked it might.

The smile only grew as Din chased after your palm once it left his face, a small frown turning down his features against your left hand still cradling his face when he could no longer feel your touch. But it quickly melted to match your own joy when you tugged on the fabric to pull him further down into you like you always did, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

Pushing him gently, you rolled so you both were laying on your side facing one another, still so close you could share the same breath if you needed.

Turning into his neck, you whispered the words into the warm skin there. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum…. Ner riduur.” ("I love you…."; lit. "I will know you forever…." “My partner.”)

Din shuddered, cradling the back of your head in one ungloved hand and pressing your face further into him gently as he quietly moaned, “Riduur….” He let out a shaking breath. “Say that again…. Please.”

Xxx

Tag list to come!

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sophswritingthings · 10 months

Text

so what — blue eyed samurai

pairing: mizu x f!oc

warning(s): a bit of a steamy scene at the beginning but technically no smut; sex/sexual mentionssss. swearing!!

tropes: protective!mizu, canon divergent, just some good old fluff, a little bit of angst; I guess? cuddling, mizu with ✨feelings✨

a/n: writing these fics have become my life and I’m way too invested and also flustered writing these things so bare with me

summary: after their kiss at the brothel, they find themselves staying with a swordsman and his workers before traveling again. mizu wants to keep their new found relationship to themselves. mio, however, does not feel the same way.

word count: 1,476 words / 8,122 characters

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mio's chest heaved up and down, her breath came out in puffs, almost like smoke. her kimono was half pushed off her top half, exposing the sensitive skin of her neck and shoulder.

meanwhile, there was mizu—sitting behind her, bent into the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking on her neck and shoulder. leaving red marks up and down her skin…

footsteps pounded outside the bedrooms door.

mio stayed relaxed, her muscles never tensing. sure, it made her a bit embarrassed someone could catch them like this, specifically, but she didn’t care if someone saw them together.

on the other hand, she felt mizu’s arms around her waist tense. her head shot up from mio’s neck, pulling up the girls kimono, making her look as presentable as possible.

“.. no-ones coming in here, mizu,” mio murmured, glancing at the samurai over her shoulder. “It’s probably only ringo… he knows not to bother you.”

“I’m not taking my chances, mio,” mizu’s eyes narrow, “besides. you should get to sleep—we have a long day tomorrow and I don’t want to listen to you complain.”

there was a hint of kindness in her tone—a hint of empathy, despite her actual words. mio sighed flopping down to rest her head on the pillow of the mattress.

“I suppose your not going to stay with me, can’t risk it, can you? so scandalous to be seen with a woman you like, isn’t it?” mio hissed, burying her face into the soft pillow.

“I- mio,” mizu choked out. it wasn’t that she was—embarrassed by mio, not at all—mio was a courteous, beautiful woman to which she liked. she didn’t want to admit to herself how nervous she was. how nervous she was to be seen with someone; being a samurai of her reputation.

“no, no—go. go ahead,” mio sighed. “If that’s what you want, mizu, it’s fine.”

was it fine, though? was she fine with this? being hidden away like she was some dirty secret?

mizu stopped in her tracks. she quickly sat back down, gazing at mio with somewhat of an unimpressed expression.

“happy?”

mio gazed at her for a moment, somewhat of a flustered smile coming over her lips.

“I won’t be truly happy until you come over here,” mio murmured, chuckling a little.

mizu rolled her eyes, climbing up to the top of the mattress. she settled behind mio, wrapping her arms tight around the woman’s waist—as if something was going to come out and hurt her. her head tucked into mio’s neck.

mizu practically raised warmth; compared to mio’s small body.

“you crack so easily,” mio murmured, her voice slipping off into sleep.

mizu rolled her eyes, “no. I don’t think I do,” her voice was raspy, growing more tired by the second.

mio slipped fully into sleep. mizu’s arms around her waist, her head tucked into the crook of her neck—their legs intertwined as warmth radiated from their bodies. the closeness of someone you liked so much could warm a heart in seconds.

snow sprinkled on her silky black locks; the snow riding up her ripped kimono. she’d probably be able to get a new one, at some point—but as of now she’d have to deal with it.

they trudged through the snow, the cold wind nipping at her exposed skin. the weather was turning her naturally light skin bright red.

a hand brushed against her cheek, making her look up unexpectedly.

when she did, there was a somewhat kind expression in front of her—partially hidden by a hat and glasses.

“.. you’re freezing,” mizu murmured, pushing her glasses up her nose with two fingers.

“what did you expect,” mio chuckled nervously. “It a fucking blizzard, out here.” her tone was somewhat rough, eyes narrowed.

was she still a little upset about the keeping them a secret, thing? sure.

but she felt that it was petty; so she didn’t bring it up. she should understand, right?

“we’ll be inside soon,” mizu shifted her gaze away from mio. she had quickly caught onto the woman’s tone. she glanced at her, “you’re upset with me. for what I said, aren’t you.”

mio folded her arms across her chest. partly because she was upset, yes; but partly to keep herself warm.

“maybe I am,” mio murmured, her dark brown eyes locked on mizu's blue eyes, hidden by those glasses she wore. “Is that not allowed?”

“don’t say things I didn’t,” mizu narrowed her eyes. “you’re allowed to be upset with me, mio, it’s fair. have your own opinion.”

mio glanced at mizu, raising an eyebrow, “okay,” she whispered. “so—what? what do you have to say about it?”

“you do have to understand this from my view, mio,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated by the situation. she let her hands than fall under her cover up. “.. you act as if this is completely common for us to do. you act as if someone saw us together; they would not hesitate to kill either me or you in mere minutes.”

mio huffed. it wasn’t like mizu was wrong. she let her eyes rest on mizu's again, “I do understand that,” she sighed. “but you have to get that I have enough trust in you that you would not simply let that happen.”

mizu paused for a moment, listening to mio's words. she had an expression of surprise over her face; as if she couldn’t believe a lick of what mio had just said.

she let out a breath in a little huff, seemingly now not wanting to accept her words as truth. “I suppose.. you are not wrong, princess.” her eyes narrowed a little, “I wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on you.”

mio couldn’t suppress a smile, her hand ruffling under mizu's over-coat, looking for the samurai’s hand. when she finally found it, her hand clasped around mizu's. they were rough, war torn. scratched and practically ripped to shreds from her years as a samurai.

but they were just right for mio.

mizu took a moment to adjust to the new feeling; but when she did, her grip was incredibly tight. she didn’t want to let her go; she didn’t want mio to go even an inch out of her sight.

mio was slightly surprised—they were walking along with ringo, to their next destination. and yet it was as if her words made any shred of doubt mizu had about their safety, about their relationship, was whisked away with a flick of her hand.

a warm, inviting light was up ahead. mizu pulled her forward with no hesitation, slipping inside. she seemed to know the swordsman and his men settled inside; and quickly pulled her little group into an empty room. lit by a fireplace and two mattresses lain about the floor. one for ringo, one for them.

“ringo?” mizu glanced over her shoulder with those piercing eyes, “go and shadow the swordsman for an hour or two; think of it as part of your training.”

mizu than glanced at mio, the slightest hint of a smirk on her samurai’s face. mio's eyes met hers, looking a little anxious. yet excited nonetheless—anytime she had with mizu was always good.

when ringo disappeared, mio cleared her throat.

“why do I have the feeling you're thinking something you shouldn’t be,” mio raised an eyebrow. “we are guests, here, mizu.. I’m sure we do not wish to.. bother the others here, yes?”

mizu was already busy, pulling off her glasses and hat. she placed them tenderly to the side, as well as her sword, hidden in the scabbard. when that was all said and done, she turned to mio. her footsteps came closer and close, til they were inches apart.

the samurai’s fingers pricked at mio's waist, drawing her in. she tugged her into her body by the hips. her face sat inches from mio's painted red lips.

“someone is bound to hear us,” mio practically murmured against mizu's lips, her eyes flickering from the woman's lips to her eyes ever few seconds.

“so what,” she hissed, her eyebrows creasing for a moment. “does it seem as if I care at the moment?”

mizu's earlier anxiety had washed away; washed back by comforting waves of mio’s presence. her trust. her touch, her love, her security. there was no need to be secretive; to beat around the bush when it came to them. she didn’t give a shit what anyone thought anymore; she was strong enough to take down any asshole who dared look wrong at her princess.

“no… it doesn’t,” mio muttered, closing the gap between them. she had one hand rested on mizu's chest, the other curling up around her samurai’s neck.

mizu pulled back for a moment, taking mio's hand and leading her to the mattress. Mio gave a breathy laugh; she was in for a night.

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a/n: mizu sending her fucking apprentice away to fuck her girlfriend canon

tags: @jspidey5

#blue eyed samurai #mizu x oc #mizu #fanfic #sapphic #lesbian #fic #writers on tumblr #writing

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ladythornofrivia · 1 year

Text

endless reds and blues

Pair: Kakucho x Reader x Ran

Warnings: threesome, ran is charming, kakucho is aloof, but still sweet. Toxic drama, dreams, secrets, side characters are douchebags, attempted murder, violence, strong language, fluff.

a/n: i wanted to continue with this series also. After all, this series is the reason why i started posting here on tumblr. Can’t let it go to waste, and I love writing this story, but I’m having a hard time with plotline in the middle.

(Note: Report if someone decides to steal the synopsis and my story. And notify me. Thank you) ❤️

chapter seven: three is three

“Rise and shine, little mermaid,” a voice whispered into your ear.

“Get up, we’re hungry,” another voice said.

Groaning, your eyes blinded by the close up light, unveiling the tall silhouettes. With your eyes completely wide open, you spotted Ran and Kakucho, shirtless—beholds your eyes.

“Guys, what’s going on? I thought we’re having a sleepover,” you said, yawning. “You know, watching movies and whatnot. I’m not here to cook.”

Ran titled his head. “What are you talking about? We have a free day today during the weekend. I’ll even help you in the kitchen. Besides, you already have a sleepover without us.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, you silly mermaid,” Ran said, ruffling your bright, red hair. Gently, his fingers gripped slightly and trailed it downwards to the ends. When he looked into your eyes once more, his tongue clicked. “I guess we should change things up a little.”

Your face paled. “What?”

“You heard him,” Kakucho said with his folded arms. “Now take off your clothes.”

WHAT?!

Your hands instantly tucked your body over with a comfy blanket.

“You guys are insane, I am tired,” you told them, panicking.

“You heard Kakucho, little mermaid,” Ran said, inching his face closer to yours, nearly touching your lips with his. “Take off of your clothes. I want to see not only your beautiful face, but your beautiful body. I bet you taste good.” Ran produced a sound sucking from his lips and teeth, as if thirsty.

“Come on, red doll,” Kakucho said.

“Don’t say it like that, Kakucho,” Ran said. “You have to flirt better than that! You’ve got to do what I do, okay? Like this…”

Then Ran leaned in and plunged his kiss against yours. With his hand grabbed behind your neck, he pulled you in deeper, while his other hand grasped onto your waist. Meanwhile, Kakucho tucked his staggering breath in, his crotch tightened in between his pants. Kakucho grabbed his crotch and fondled, moaning while keeping his eyes on you and Ran

Ran unbuttoned his suit first, then unbuttoned your pajama pants, revealing your pink underwear.

“Ooh,” Ran began, “Look what we have here. Not only you have a cute face, but wearing a cute underwear to match your cute face.” He nipped his teeth against your lower lips and tugged it after another long kiss. “You’re way better than any girls I’ve fucked. Kakucho, here, he’s a virgin.”

Somehow you remember the weird encounter you have with Kakucho at your apartment building with him being shirtless and sweating, as if he was in a pornographic magazine.

“I don’t think he’s a virgin,” you told Ran.

“You’ve fucked him already?”

“No—no, I didn’t—”

“Ooh, I was just teasing. You’re still blushing, I see. I see that I still have good taste in women. A proper woman like you.” Ran kissed your neck, then unstrapped the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, revealing your breasts.

“Based on your reaction, you’re enjoying this,” Ran concluded.

Looking back at Kakucho, his pants came undone, his pants ambushed around his ankles. Taking a glimpse, you saw Kakucho getting hard at the sight of you.

When Ran had you lay down on your backside, a cool sheets pressed down against your warm skin.

As usual, Ran slid down your underwear painfully slow. But Kakucho shoved Ran out of the way and ripped your pink underwear and spread your legs far apart to lick your cunt. Somehow you managed to get your legs closed but Kakucho insisted on keeping them open, even removing your hand from blocking their soon-to-be favorite view.

“Relax, princess,” Kakucho said. “I’ll take good care of you.” Then plunged his lips to yours. Like Ran’s minty breath, Kakucho’s lips tasted sweet, smelled like coffee.

You love mint and you love coffee. Combining them altogether, you wanted a minted coffee drink.

“You like it, princess,” Kakucho said, ducking down to lick your wet folds. “I love you, (y/n). I don’t think I could live without tasting your beautiful pussy.”

Then he dove in, leaving you breathless. Clutching his hair, your head threw back with a breathless moan. As Ran climbed up onto the bed—his bed—and placed himself in front of you, shoving his cock into your mouth.

“Take it, my little mermaid. I knew you like the way you tasted my cock ever since you saw me naked by walking into the wrong room. I don’t mind you walking in on me anytime,” Ran said, thrusting with a heaving, pleasurable sigh.

After that, Ran and Kakucho took turns on pleasuring you through oral sex. By the time they came, both Ran and Kakucho dismounted from the bed and debated who’s better at fucking your mouth.

Blushing, you covered yourself up, watching them with a heaving chest.

Then both Ran and Kakucho looked at you attentively. And Ran spoke up. “So, do you like how fucked you?”

You swallowed, still tasting them.

“Is it good, princess,” Kakucho asked.

You said nothing, but stared at them in awe, not looking at their girth.

“I know you’re a virgin, sweetheart. So, which one of us wants to take your virginity?”

Staggered, you still looked at them in horror. You didn’t want to take your virginity just yet.

“What shall we do, Kakucho? This sweet girl is thirsty and still can’t decide who’s better at fucking.”

Kakucho stayed silent. “Let her decide on who she wants to ride more.”

“Shall we test that theory? After all, I like doing a hands-on experience. If I do get her pregnant, I’ll make sure I’ll be the best baby daddy ever.”

Then Kakucho climbed on top of you, with his hands placed on either side of your head. With his hardened cock aligned into your entrance, he said, “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you blurted, not knowing why you said this.

“Hey, I want to join in on the fun!” Ran complained.

Suddenly your position switched. You in the middle while Kakucho is at the top and Ran at the bottom, clutching and kneading on your ass, massaging.

You wanted Ran and Kakucho do have their dicks inside you; they could see it in your eyes, so without hesitation, their cocks thrusted in, your cunt and you ass stretched out as you let out a pleasant groan, gyrating.

Giving an indication, Ran and Kakucho paced themselves until they spill the seed inside you and switched positions again. This time, Ran humped against your pussy and Kakucho rammed his cock in between your buttocks. The quiet room filled with erotic sounds until they spilled another cum inside you until they passed out with their cocks still in you.

*~~*~~*

Waking up with a sharp gasp after a long nap is already exhausting. Everyday seemed so normal comparing to the days where you get to spend with the boys. And dealing with their fangirls is bad enough as a last straw. Why on earth it has to be this way? Nevertheless, you get up and start your day.

~~~

How on earth could you dream something like that? It’s unusual and sensual. Seeing Ran and Kakucho in your dreams will be impossible on talking them today. You’re okay with the other members, but with Kakucho and Ran, you tried to find ways to avoid them all the day without raising suspicions.

When Ran approached you with a smile, you smiled back but your eyes averted away quickly.

“Something’s wrong, little mermaid?” Ran asked, his hand ran down to your hair, which made you flinched a little.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you said with an awkward smile.

“Why struggling? Is there something that I did? You want a mint?” When you shook your head, Ran grabbed and ate a piece into his mouth.

Yes, in my dreams.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ll call you later when I get to your place, okay?”

Ran nodded. “Sure!”

Before removing yourself away, you asked, “Did I accidentally walk in on you naked?”

Ran’s took a double take. “What?”

“Nothing! Have a nice day!” Then you fled back into the classroom, when you’re supposed to remember the contract that you made a deal with Kokonoi.

Rindou came over by Ran’s side. “Hey, bro. I got the phone number from this hot chick who supposedly is popular at a hostess club. Bro? Big bro?” His hand waved over Ran’s pale face. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?” he asked again, his hands rocked Ran back and forth by the shoulders.

Ran’s pale face suddenly went red. “Nothing!” Then fled back to their private lunch area.

Clueless, Rindou is baffled by Ran’s unusual reaction.

~~~

When Kakucho came by at your place to pick you up for a study session at Bonten’s place, you felt eerily quiet, even though everything that you have seen is nothing but a dream. Good thing his sports car doesn’t smell anything but coffee.

“So, how’s your day, princess,” he asked.

You flinched at the nickname he gave you. “Nothing special. I, uh, just having a rough time with my assignments.”

“I can help you if you like—”

“No thanks! I can handle it myself!”

Noticing the tight clutch onto your bag, Kakucho replied with, “Did I say something wrong, princess? We can discuss if you like. I’ll always be here if you need me with anything.”

Scratching your arm, your voice strained with, “I just need to find a quiet space to relax, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, anything for you,” Kakucho said. “Say, do you like Starbucks? I could get us some coffee to drink and something to eat.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you said, waving your hands in panic.

But it’s already too late. He ordered you a sweet caramel drink with whip cream and a glazed danish, while Kakucho ordered a hot cup of joe and two club sandwiches. He handed you one and told you that it’s okay to eat in his sports car. Nonetheless, you ate. Weirdly, you found everything strange. Why is everything so weird to me?

“I didn’t know you’re into coffee. I thought you’d be more like a guy who’s into energy drinks more.”

Kakucho shook his head. “I hate those kinds of crap.”

“Oh, yeah,” you concurred, without looking at him.

When he stopped at the building, before opening the car door, Kakucho had beaten you to it. With the silence prevailing, you’re unsure what to say to him next during the elevator.

“You’ve been acting strange since this morning. Even with Ran. Is there something going between you two?”

“No,” you answered. “I just feel overwhelmed because of the fangirls in the school. I just don’t want to be in the way.”

Kakucho scoffed. “If anything, it’s the other way around.” Then his nonchalance turned into seriousness. “Tell me what’s going on.” Then Kakucho walked towards you, making you back up into the wall with his hands pinned down at the sides of your head, trapping you.

“I told you, you can tell me anything. I do want to get to know you. More than anything.”

You gulped, averting your gaze.

“Anything?”

Unknowingly, Kakucho slithered his hand around your hips and pulled your waist close to his.

“Tell me, princess. I’ll make you feel better.”

By the time elevator stopped, the doors opened, revealing Ran standing and watching the events unfold.

Now Ran also wanted an explanation.

Taglist: @galactict3a @colored-tr-panels @f1yh1gh @slay0368

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nerdraging4point0 · 5 months

Text

Mad Hearts and Temptations // Chapter Four // Wonderland AU

Tropes and Tags: Wonderland romance, instalove, too much sex, destiny, fated lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only minors DNI. dark themes, gore themes, gothic themes, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), voyeurism, exhibitionism, angst.

A.N.- Although Characters may have face claim to the Bad Omens band as well as Poppy, I have changed their names for the sake of the story. Despite this change I hope everyone still enjoys the story as a whole!

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people's faces but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist(click to be added): @poisongirl616 @ladyveronikawrites @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @itsafullmoon @viofcrows @letmeadoreyoux @latenightmusiclover @transparentwitchnightmare @darling-millicent-aubrey @badomensls @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @mysticdoodlez @srorgana1 @in-another-life @broken0mens @somewhere-diamond @celestineveil @littlefoxkota @silentglassbreak @hayleylatour @sundamariis @lma1986 @thatchickwiththecamera @lilhobgobbler @missduffsblog @asilentsiren @catharsis-in-darkness @dsireland86 @skulliecadaver-blog @laurpartyprogram @faceless-mirror @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @badomensls @thisbicc @embracethereaper42 @crimson-calligraphyx @cind6547

He had appeared out of nowhere.

Seems that was normal around here.

Dressed in all black, his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing intricate designs inked into the skin of his arms that made me yearn to move closer and examine the exquisite artwork. The top three buttons of his shirt were left tantalizingly undone, offering a glimpse of smooth olive skin from neck to sternum. Equally dark hair was pulled back neatly and tucked into a tie to keep the silken strands off his neck, with soft flyaway pieces framing his face as they tumbled rebelliously to the edge of his rugged, scruffy chin. He stood there so casually, feet crossed at the ankles so the toe of his boot rested on the bare earth. He fiddled absently with something in his hands as the black cat ears on his head swiveled back and forth, twitching harshly when his expression would darken. Glancing up from whatever held his attention, his smoky grey eyes met mine, and in their swirling depths I glimpsed a haunting fog - his pupil a harsh slit bisecting that mesmerizing color. His mouth turned up into a wide grin, the sharp points of his teeth glinting in the fading moonlight.

"You must be looking for hatter." His voice is very matter of fact. I pause in confusion, unsure of how to respond. Was I? I wanted a way home, that's what I was looking for, a way to wake up from this insane dream i’m having. My mouth opens as I attempt to form a reply, but no words come out. I stand there mutely, feeling foolish.

"What's the matter, nips?" he purrs again, his voice smooth as silk. I blink and he vanishes, dissipating into the mist that surrounds us. I glance around, wondering if I had only imagined him, when he suddenly materializes right next to me. I jump, startled by his sudden closeness. His slitted eyes gaze down at me intensely and I catch the scent of his breath, warm and sweet.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asks playfully, his lips curled in a teasing smile that reveals a hint of sharp teeth behind them. Again he starts to twirl something through his fingers, and as I look at his hands watching them, I can see a string being woven through his fingers around his palms then unwoven and rewoven again in a hypnotizing, intricate pattern. The thin cord glistens slightly in the dappled sunlight that filters down through the canopy of twisted branches and leaves above us.

"Where's Miss Melina?" he purrs, his voice smooth like honey but with an edge to it. "Usually she doesn't leave sweet prey to fend for itself in the tulgey wood." His words send a chill through me, and I glance nervously around at the shadowy, overgrown forest surrounding us. I can hear strange sounds - rustles, croaks, and whispers - coming from the dense underbrush and towering, mossy trees on all sides.

"She told me to stay on the path but I feel like i've lost it among all this, shrub," I say, frustration seeping into my voice as I kick at some of the sticks and stones littering the forest floor in front of me. They're scattered and buried in the dark, moist soil beneath the knotted roots and carpet of decaying leaves. I'm completely turned around, with no idea how to find the path again that will lead me out of this eerie place.

"Well," he circles behind me, walking on air as he begins to float next to me long tail curling around the air helping guide him as he swims with the fog. “How else do you expect to be found if you are not lost first?” His words hang in the misty air, spoken in a lilting, singsong voice that seems to echo endlessly.

“This is insane. I am going insane. It's all a dream." I had spent hours in these woods and it had never dawned on me before until now. My childhood memories were flooding back to me, a memory locked away somewhere deep of Alice returning from our failed game of Hide and Seek, her dress tattered and a mess. When I ran to my parents because she was frightening me she kept complaining about talking rabbits and cats, fortune telling men, and two queens who hated her. I pulled at the hair on the crown of my head trying to wake myself up in any way possible. I looked to the cat man in front of me as he arched a perfectly sculpted brow at my rant. "I am not crazy, I know crazy, and I. am. Not. Crazy!" I shouted defiantly, though I was no longer fully convinced. This world I had stumbled upon had unlocked memories and fears I thought were long buried.

"Well perhaps the Mad Hatter can right your wrongs." he smiled that wide and almost amused and treacherous smile. I felt a chill run down my spine as his grin stretched unnaturally across his face, revealing a hint of madness glinting in his eyes.

"Mad? Why would someone who is mad be able to help me?" I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest and lifting my chin. Yet as I held the man's eerie gaze, I glimpsed a cunning intellect lurking beneath the surface. Perhaps he knew something I did not. Still, the thought of turning to madness to solve my troubles felt unnerving. I staunchly maintained my pride. "I don't need the help of someone who is insane!" I declared hotly.

“Madness is not insanity.” His long tail stiffened, the tip swishing back and forth as he continued on. “It is creativity without the confines of expectations and demands. It is made without fear of judgment or hatred.” The sense of powerlessness washed over me as I stood there, unable to form a coherent thought let alone sentence to rebut him. He had a point, but the lack of agency in this hazy dreamscape left me reeling and grasping for some way to assert myself. As the fog swirled around us, obscuring everything beyond a few feet, I struggled to orient myself or gain any kind of foothold. He turned disappearing into the fog and I felt a pang of regret that I may have offended him. My petulant silence likely came across as childish when he was just trying to help steer us through this confusing labyrinth of a dream.

Several feet away he reappears twirling that string between his fingers. “Coming?” he asks. His tone was light, no indication of the annoyance I likely deserved. I sighed, the fight draining out of me. As adrift as I felt in the ephemeral world around us, he remained unperturbed, focused on moving forward. I nodded, falling into step behind him once more as he led the way, string in hand.

I followed as closely as I could, once close enough I could reach out and touch him. He would evaporate again several feet ahead and i’d once again have to follow. I shivered in the chill of the wind wrapping my cardigan around my waist and holding myself tight. In the breeze between the branches I could almost hear Alice’s voice again.

“It’s not fair, I get nothing.”

That day is seared into my memory. My cousin Alice's shrill whining still rings in my ears as she tries to claw her way out of my mother's protective grasp, dirty fingernails scraping at the tender skin of my throat. "It's not fair, I get nothing!" she wailed.

Even at a young age, Alice had a flair for the dramatic, throwing a tantrum over something as silly as losing her princess status in our imaginary games. My mother tried to soothe her, speaking gently, but Alice would have none of it. "She can't be queen. I deserve to be queen, I found it first!" Alice insisted, as if the laws of make-believe were as binding as those of a real kingdom. I was confused, not understanding the intensity of her reaction over something so trivial.

“Ember sweetie, did you take Alice’s crown during your tea party again?” I shook my head no. Arguing that we weren’t playing tea party. I hated tea party. Alice was always the radiant princess while I played the part of lowly Cinderella. Never did I challenge her self-appointed role as the fairest in all the land. But to Alice, these games were serious business and any threat to her princess status was an unforgivable offense. After that day, I lost my taste for playing royal. If that was how a princess behaved, I wanted no part of it.

As we stepped out of the dense forest, we were met with an unexpected sight. The grass was lush and vibrant, swaying gently in the soft breeze. Looking up, I could see the bright full moon and twinkling stars clearly for the first time since entering the woods earlier that day. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their delicate pink petals fluttering down around us like confetti. Their sweet scent mingled with the other wildflowers dotting the meadow - bluebells, daisies, violets, and luscious white roses - to create an intoxicating floral perfume.The enchanting meadow was a verdant oasis that took my breath away, but my gaze was irresistibly drawn to the mysterious cottage nestled at its heart. The charming two-story cottage commanded the clearing, its somber form a striking contrast against the vivid emerald grasses and rainbow of wildflowers surrounding it. Hexagonal in shape, the cottage's ebon walls and garnet-shingled roof seemed to absorb the moonlight rather than reflect it, giving the structure an otherworldly aura. Circling the upper floor, arched windows framed in creamy white hinted at what secrets lay within, though their glass panes disclosed nothing of the cottage's dark interior. Meanwhile, a procession of stately French doors lined the lower level, their glass also opaque and concealing, its inscrutable presence beckoning me closer despite the unease creeping down my spine. I felt compelled to cross the verdant meadow and discover what lurked behind those shadowy walls and darkened windows.

The steps were old and weathered, with cracks running through the wood like spiderwebs. As both my boots stepped onto the wooden porch the obsidian wood creaked under my feet, the ancient planks groaning in protest at this intrusion. Suddenly and without warning, he appeared next to me with a sly smile on his face. I jumped back, startled by his stealthy and abrupt arrival. The french doors slid open and I was instantly blinded by light from inside the cottage, the brightness almost painful compared to the dim exterior. As I shielded my eyes and they slowly adjusted to the light, I opened them to see a tall silhouette standing in the doorway, features obscured by the backlighting.

As he emerged from the dimly lit interior of the old Victorian cottage, the tall figure had to duck under the door frame to avoid knocking the oversized black top hat from his head. Though slender and lean, his height made it a tight squeeze through the low doorway. The moonlight spilled across the creaky front porch, illuminating his features in a soft glow. Adorned in a tailored wine-colored tailcoat and partially unbuttoned black shirt, his eccentric style gave him an air of mystique. Tattoos of intricate designs peeked out from his open collar, complementing his unconventional attire. Unkempt brown hair spilled out in wavy layers from beneath the battered hat, framing his face in a windswept mane that reached haphazardly to his neck and shoulders. Despite the obstacle of the door frame, he moved with a graceful, casual fluidity.

As he stood before us, the man's visage told a story of hardship and struggle. Deep furrows lined his brow, etched from years of worry and stress. His drooping eyelids could barely conceal the purplish crescents beneath that spoke of many sleepless nights. Though still youthful, his pale complexion seemed almost gray and pallid in the dim light, highlighting a gauntness in his cheeks. His mouth was fixed in a thin, grim line, stern and unsmiling at first as his gaze flitted over the group. But then his eyes met mine, and astonishingly, his dour expression transformed in an instant. The corners of his lips turned up into a warm, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. The years seemed to melt away from him as his eyes crinkled with sudden mirth. It was like witnessing the sun emerge from behind dark clouds, bathing everything in its hopeful rays.

“Welcome to the cottage in the clear, Ember, my dear.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noahsebastian fanfic #wonderland!au #alice in wonderland retelling #bad omens smut #bad omens au #wonderland!omens #madhatter!noah #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction

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estro-gem · 10 months

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Jax x Ragatha: Touch

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's note: Hey guys! It's bunnydoll time! I hope you have the patience to work your way through this one. I wonder if there are any of you who can remotely relate to the way I wrote Jax to be in terms of his aversion to touch.

Oh well, it's just a story about some fictional characters who aren't even mine. Credit goes to Gooseworx, for creating such fun characters for us to play with.

Hope you enjoy this one! This story was suppose to go into a completely different direction, but that idea can always be explored in the future - when I have the guts to put it on paper.

I'm sure that you don't need the context from my previous work to understand/enjoy this one.

Warnings: None... I think.

SUMMARY:

Jax is suffering from the frustrating effects of touch-starvation, despite his touch-aversion rendering him from doing anything about it. After meeting up with his fellow circus-members, a good laugh and a brief on their new adventure, Jax is given the chance to confide in Ragatha.

TOUCH

It was going to be one of those dreaded days.

Jax was lost in a dream only moments before – one of silky, living fabric with the softest stuffing that rang with a hushed, pleading voice for him and only him. For him to give more and more; and in the dream, he was willing – eager – to provide. He’d rattled the mountains to kneel before a ragdoll only to be brought to his knees himself, all for his little doll to just look at him.

To really just look at him.

Jax closed his eyes again, seeking the warm, fuzzy afterglow of the caresses shared in his lost dream. He desperately tried to sink deeper into his mattress, as he was pressed into the softness of his doll only moments before.

But now he was burning from the inside out.

Red-hot fire nipped and crackled on his skin and yet, Jax wanted to curl into himself and burst into shivers as his heart bashed into his ribcage, threatening to jump out from his throat. The sensations caused him to forget to reign in his breathing, so he was left almost panting, until the sound of his own voice riled him up even more. He sounded so pathetic and desperate in the confines of his own room.

Suddenly Jax’s attention was drawn to his claws, now ripped through his yellow gloves, and digging into his pillow. He pulled back his hands and forced himself to relax his digits enough, to allow the claws to sink back into place; tucked away and safe. The rabbit spied the little holes that his claws left in the plush bedding, feeling the sour taste of guilt invade his being.

That could’ve been Raggs.

Just like that, the sour was drowned in the glowing, shivering heat that trembled through him again. He groaned as he rolled over to sit up on the edge of his bed. He tried to force the thoughts of her eyes out of his head, only to be thrusted into the intrusive impulse of crushing her against him, stealing her breaths.

The bunny laid his face into his hands and felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes. It’s been a while since he felt like this, and the frustration was getting to him in ways that was almost too embarrassing to acknowledge. Jax knew that he was only going to suffer more once he left the safety of his room and he desperately tried to muster up all the reasons why he shouldn’t leave.

But someone would come knocking at his door if he didn’t – and heaven forbid that it would be Ragatha calling his name from the outside…

Because he might not be able to stop himself from dragging her into his depths only to screaming his name from the inside…

No.

This had to stop.

He was going to be fine, frustration been damned! It was just a bit of an off day, but nothing like he hasn’t lived through before. Yes, Jax was well equipped to handle the tug of war between touch-aversion and touch-starvation for the day. Just one day.

Just like he’d done all the mere handful of times he felt like this since he got here.

Jax lifted his arms to stretch, hearing the ring in his ears as he groaned at the pleasure of relieving his tense muscles. Speaking of stiffness, Jax felt the overall form of his body being a tad bit more defined and firmer than usual. Intrigued by this discovery, he poked at his bicep to confirm that it was as solid as it appeared, before rolling his eyes in annoyance. He must have really been tensed up and… invested… in that dream of his for him to notice it – or maybe his mind was just trying to occupy himself to forget the yearning for his doll’s hands to glide over his skin.

Ugh, it was going to be a rough day…

Whether Jax wanted to or not, he eventually left his room and dragged himself down the empty hallway of many doors. Voices buzzed from the main area, but he was too distracted to single them out, so the bunny was left to the element of surprise. He didn’t mind it too much, as he believed that any conversation would stimulate him beyond the confusing war between the contradicting needs of his body versus his mind.

The itch that only another’s touch could soothe, versus the itch of the unbearable residue that the touch would leave in its wake.

It was pathetic.

Finally met with the familiar figures in the main area, the rabbit’s eyes were pulled and fixed onto a specific scene. He narrowed his eyes, as his mind raced through multiple thoughts, not quite knowing what to make of what he saw.

Pomni and Kinger were off to the side of the main group, seemingly in a conversation that held the keen attention of the jester. She was practically fixated on the oversized chess piece, who by no doubt was talking about something deeper than the ramblings of a madman. Jax spotted mismatched eyes of the king dulled and muddled – and for once, sober. Just then, Jax decided to steer clear of those two, not wanting to rain on the royal’s parade.

It’s been so long since Kinger was as aware as he was now.

Even Jax wouldn’t want to knock down that precious house of cards. When Kinger was oriented, things were just… better in the Circus. It wasn’t something that anyone could explain, but something about Kinger holding out for so long, made life in the Digital Realm seem possible – even when surrounded and inflicted by anything and everything that was impossible. Granted, those sober moments were few, brief and far in-between, but they were there, rooted, and present. Jax recalled many instances where he was met with the elder’s sobriety, only for it to crumble to ash when he attempted to delve into it.

A genuine question asked by Jax in attempt to encourage the continuation of Kinger’s clear mindset, only met with the abrupt cut-off of another startled question by Kinger about whatever was happening at that moment, as if it never happened in the first place.

The snake’s charms were also proven to be ineffective against the royal, barely acknowledging his baiting and deliberate sabotage, but Jax kept hissing and striking regardless. In fact, everyone included Kinger in the happenings of the oasis, regardless of the effectiveness of it all. Anything that anyone could do for another precious moment of clarity from the king, was considered a worthy effort, because if he could make it this far and still have his mind…

Who’s to say they couldn’t make it either – even if only in small, precious increments?

What a shame to see such a precious moment of clarity to be wasted on a stupid waste of space. She had no idea how lucky she was to have that gem in her grimy little grasp.

Jax scoffed; deciding to look to where the rest of the group was situated. His heart clenched at the sight of his girls, watched over by none other than Zooble themself.

Gangle was happily wrapped around Ragatha’s slim frame. He could tell that the ribbon continuously squeezed the doll with a firm, but gentle pressure, just as Ragatha liked it. He heard Zooble mumble teasing comments about Raggs 'stealing their girl' as Gangle nuzzled her face into the top of the doll’s head, burying her face into the red wooly locks with an admittedly cute smile on her face. Sometimes, Jax wished for them to be living another life, where the bunny would be free to just pinch and tug the masked ribbon’s cheeks. He’d make it hurt, that’s for sure!

And then, there was his doll, also smiling and content – at ease in the crushing grasp of Gangle’s magic touch. The doll often sought out the ribbonoid for her infamous squeeze, as they found that Gangle was the best at practicing Ragatha’s occasional need for deep-pressure therapy.

Sure, some time ago, it was a case of desperation on Jax’s part to indulge his doll with his weighted cuddling, but Gangle was the ideal option. He didn’t mind the rare time with his dolly one bit, though. The annoying itch and bother prickling at his skin for the few hours afterwards was all the more worth it to have Ragatha melted and helpless beneath him.

Where she belonged.

Jax felt a warm, but not exactly unpleasant tingling ghost over his lips when his needy thoughts pushed back into his head upon remembering the sensual kiss he left on the inside of her wrist. It was when she wordlessly begged him to have her caress his cheek as her shaking hand hovered in offering for him to accept or reject. He couldn’t ever say no then – he doubted that he’d ever be able to say no to her ever.

Her face… her voice… pleading his name like a prayer...

Stop it.

It’s just worse because of that stupid, unrealistic dream he had before! It didn’t matter how much he dreamt about him sinking and drowning into his doll, because in the waking world, he was just a broken snake that felt the need to shed his skin every time anyone had the mere thought of touching him.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

For the time being, he’d be happy to just live vicariously through Gangle securely holding Ragatha as she sat cross-legged on the floor, while Gangle playfully blew raspberries at Zooble, who could only shake their head in mock-disappointment. It was written all over the ragdoll’s face and evident in the melody of her bright laugh; Ragatha felt safe and content.

That was more than enough for Jax to be happy.

Right?

“Jax! Took you long enough!” Jax was pulled out from his thoughts upon the sound of Zooble’s bored, bossy tone, “You’re lucky Caine’s not here yet. Where were you anyway?”

Jax’s sleazy grin was fixed on his face, trained and trimmed as the snake he was, “Oh, you know… definitely not snooping around you rooms or anything – but hypothetically, if I were, I’m pretty sure I forgot something in one of them, so if you find it, be sure to give me a shout!” He winked.

“Jax, I swear…” Ragatha’s face was pulled into a scowl, but the fire she possessed proved her spirit to shine as bright as ever, “If you rigged my room with firecrackers and smoke bombs again, I am going to lose it.”

“What?” Jax exclaimed in false expiration, “Didn’t you hear me say that it was hypothetical, Dollface? You might wanna get your ears checked, because it seems I left one too many centipedes in your room to crawl into them at night.”

“Oh my lord, Jax stop. Just stop.” Ragatha squirmed to get her arms free from Gangle’s grasp and cover her ears while shutting her eyes, “You are tricking me into thinking that I can actually feel them in my head!”

“I just got her to calm down, Jaaaax!” Gangle whined, switching out her masks to frown properly.

Jax wanted to laugh, but the girl’s whining rang an alarm.

Why would Raggs need to calm down?

He had to be smart about this – the coldblooded snake couldn’t show that he cared, so asking about it was out of the question. He considered using his silence – that always got someone talking.

He raised an eyebrow for good measure.

To his luck, Gangle just knew, as she always did, “She’s feeling a little touch starved today.”

Ragatha opted to cover her face instead of her ears. Her cheeks were glowing red with embarrassment, and she groaned out Gangle’s name to shut the ribboniod up, but the damage was done. Zooble saw Jax perk up more than he probably should have, followed by him sinking into himself like he was dragging dead weight with him. He was struggling to maintain his composure, Zooble thought to themself, surprised that even they were able to read him so easily today.

Meanwhile Jax was suffering from the internal fire that just didn’t seem to leave him be today.

What dumb luck for him and his poor little dolly to be suffering the same fate. He consoled himself that the solution was at least easier for Raggs than it was for him. He had other issues that prevented him from getting the help he wanted. He only wanted his doll’s touch – but even then, he didn’t really want it, either. It felt a bit comforting to know that Ragatha was suffering alongside him, but it killed him that he couldn’t do anything about it!

If he were to indulge in her touch like he did a mere week before, he would probably want to skin himself by the end of it all. The whole situation was bizarre to begin with! It was rare that he craved touch so quickly after such an invasive encounter, but here he was. And there she was.

Even though he knew that they were so different, it hurt a little to think that his touch only satisfied her until now, before she felt near distressed with need again.

And it also hurt that Gangle could replace his touch so well.

It actually hurt a little more than he was willing to admit.

Someone’s eyes were burning into his face and it was enough to have him jump out of his own head, looking over his fellow circus mates to see who’s eyes it was. He was surprised to find his dolly’s eyes peeking through her fingers. When he looked to her, she didn’t avert her gaze, so he had a chance to get a read on her, only for the bunny to find something he didn’t expect.

Ragatha had that yearning look again.

She watched his face very closely, as she slowly lowered her hands from her face, never once glancing away. The doll was calling out to him – he knew she was! His core was invaded with butterflies as she entranced him with that look that she seemed to reserve for him alone. He fell in love with how she silently pleaded for him, only to realize that she was, in fact, silently pleading for him.

He blinked but didn’t stir otherwise, trying to uphold his careless façade.

‘What do you want?’ a single, swift scrunch of his face was all he needed for her to understand.

Ragatha blinked in turn, and after a moment of her tossing her gaze around in search for an answer, her eyes fixed on him… or rather… his legs. His thighs? ...His hips?

Jax wanted to be set ablaze with that thought alone, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubble up from his chest. He knew it was unlikely but the thought of Ragatha being vexed by his hips was a hilarious thought at the time.

When Ragatha’s face became adorned with confusion, he flashed her a cheeky smile and swung his hips playfully, if not a tad suggestive. Her eye widened to resemble a dinnerplate before the dam broke and she burst into explosive laughter. It was so sudden that Jax could only bend over and wheeze as Gangle squeaked in surprise.

“I’m sorry!” Ragatha squeezed out in apology to her, but with one look to Jax’s face, laughter erupted from her with a new vigor. As Jax sunk onto his hands and knees, it seemed that he couldn’t risk looking at the doll without laughing either. The situation left Gangle and Zooble glancing between the 2 in the utmost confusion, but they didn’t get the chance to ask anything.

“My, my! It’s sure is a jolly occasion we have here!” Caine’s voice boomed from above, suddenly floating in the space between Jax and Ragatha, “Care to share the joke, folks? The audience would be dying to know!”

“Oh, Caine, hey buddy!” Jax managed to say as he desperately tried to just breathe again, “Don’t- don’t worry about it-” Jax cut himself off with a something in between a whine and a suppressed giggle.

“Yes, it was all just-” Ragatha caught her laugh and offered a moment of silence, before trying to continue in a shaking voice, “Just a misunderstaNdInG.”

Laughter erupted again, though it was more of a chaotic jumble of wheezes and heavy breathing between the bunny and the doll. It was a challenge for Gangle and Zooble not to feel left out, but they found themselves smiling at their friends who were finally blowing off some steam.

For whatever reason they were unaware of…

The laughter eventually died down as Caine enthusiastically explained the adventure he had cooked up for the crew. When he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the team reluctantly divided themselves into groups of 2, purely based on whomever wanted to team up. The only two who didn’t team up willingly, was Kinger and Pomni, who were the last two left after Gangle clung to Zooble and Jax slide beside Ragatha.

They were chummy before, right? Who better to be paired together than the 2 local nutjobs?

There was a brief commotion of protest and complaining, before the teams departed and split up to perform the silly tasks that were set out to complete the adventure, as Caine described. It wasn’t long before the silence between the bunny and the doll was broken by Jax right after they lost sight of the others.

“So, Dollface, I didn’t take you as the blunt and forward type of gal!” Jax wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Unless it’s just ‘cause it’s me and I’m just too irresistible to be taken out to dinner first.”

“Oh, quiet you! I told you that it was a misunderstanding.” Ragatha blew him off, much to Jax’s dismay.

He pressed on with his signature grin fixed on his face, determined to understand, “You told Caine that. You didn’t tell me squat. So? Out with it! What were you looking at? Whattaya want, Doll?”

Ragatha sighed, much like a tired mother would, “It’s fine, Jax, it’s over now. We can leave it be.”

“Nuh uh, it ain’t over. We’re bringing it back, toots!” Jax dismissed her immediately.

But the doll didn’t seem to budge.

“You’d never be able to handle it! You’ll live with the eternal regret for even considering asking.”

Was that a challenge?

“Oh ho ho, darlin’…” Jax tone shifted to a menacing one, causing Ragatha to audibly gulp when he moved to stop her from walking on, looming over her, “You have no idea what you just started.”

She recovered quickly, thinking that Jax was messing around as he usually was, “Jax, we should forget it ever happened. I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

It turns out he was actually serious for once.

“What do you want, Ragatha?” Jax asked in an ominous tone, not giving the doll the chance to digest just how serious he was to use her full name.

It turns out was actually really, really serious for once.

“What does it matter?” the ragdoll breathed, hardly intimidated, yet greatly stunned.

“What do you mean ‘what does it matter?’” Jax shuffled closer to stand inches away, causing for the doll to crane her neck to look up at him, “When you beg for me with that pretty little eye of yours, what makes you think it wouldn’t matter?”

Ragatha felt the familiar rush of heat bite her cheeks as Jax blown pupils pinned her in place. His words could easily just be the words of the snake, but something within Ragatha’s depths wanted to believe that it was only the words of the man before her.

Her man.

“If I tell you what I want, you have to deal with the regret of knowing by yourself.” Ragatha spoke with a calm, steady voice as she prepared for the moment to wither away with the diminished sound of her future confession, “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Jax murmured, not once breaking his gaze from her face.

Ragatha took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes, steeling herself for the disappointment to drag down his spirit. She took only a second longer to appreciate the churring sound of Jax’s teeth grinding within his mouth.

“Your hands.” Ragatha sighed in defeat, “I was looking at your hands.”

Jax didn’t stir or change his demeanor, silently processing the information, “My hands…”

Hands. What could she want with his hands?

Hands grab.

Hands carry.

Hands hold.

Hands touch…

Oh. Oh.

OH!

Realization must have washed over his face, because Ragatha allowed her head to fall forward in regret.

“Do you see now?” she asked with sorrow lacing her voice, “You regret knowing now.”

Jax was silent for a moment, only to softly speak up – almost to himself, “Do you know why I was late this morning?” a beat of silence, “I was dreaming about your hands too.”

Ragatha’s head flung itself up, to look at him in shock, but was met with the saddened expression of the bunny as he continued to speak, “In my dreams, I can’t get enough of them. I can’t get enough of your touch, Raggs.”

The doll’s eye started stinging with tears, but her face remained stuck in shock.

Jax wasn’t finished, “Seeing you enwrapped with Gangle makes me so happy, Raggs. I love seeing my girls take care of each other, but believe me when I tell you that I’m selfish enough to wish that you came to me instead – even if I can’t hold you like she can…”

The silence that followed, stretched a bridge between them.

The ragdoll blinked once before taking the chance to speak, “May I touch you right now? Please?”

More silence deafened them, but a lot was said in the looks they shared.

Jax sighed, bracing himself for the confusing tingles his doll tend to leave on his skin, “...Go on.”

Without knowing what to expect, Jax eyed the movements of her hands, only to see them fold into each other behind her back. The rabbit’s breath hitched as he saw the whole of Ragatha's body move closer to stand against his frame with her forehead resting right under his chin. He violently shivered when he felt the doll’s breath caress his upper chest.

His brain malfunctioned when he felt her soft, warm lips place a long, tender kiss on his sternum.

No itching. No tingles. No burning.

Fireworks.

He huffed out an aspirated breath and allowed his shaky hands to grab at her shoulders to keep her in place when he felt her hastily back away. He proceeded to wrap his arms around Ragatha and crush her against his body, as he did in his dreams, suffering the onslaught of firecrackers and sparks erupting from everywhere their bodies met. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and she could hear the thundering beats of his heart bashing to break free from its cage.

The sound that left his dolly’s mouth would haunt him for years to come and he couldn’t care less. For the first time since he was trapped in the Digital Circus, Jax was overwhelmed by the white-hot bliss of touch.

...Until it became all too much, all too soon.

And the dreaded itch crawled back into his skin, causing Jax to grab Ragatha’s shoulders again and harshly shove her back and away from him. The poor bunny was panting and trembling as he looked at Ragatha’s face in shock.

She was as frazzled as he was but she recovered quicker to tend to the poor, overstimulated bunny.

“I just want you to understand one thing.” Ragatha spoke between a few harsh breaths as she calmed down, “At times, I may need someone else's touch, but…”

Jax fought to focus his eyes on the woman before him – to indicate that she had his utmost attention, just before she blew all thoughts from his mind as she completed her sentence;

“I will always want you more than anything.”

She didn't need to say more, trusting that he understood her words perfectly.

Unlike a 'need', a 'want' can not be fulfilled.

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Text

Special Interest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The smooth jazz fills the aisle of the bookstore, a cozy warmth blowing from the vents above as you unwrap your scarf and let it hang loose from your neck. You unbutton the top of your coat, fanning yourself as the nip of winter fades. You tuck your gloves away and hike up your bag, stepping close to see the titles on the spines. The fog's finally gone from your lenses.

You have that one, oh and you already know how to crochet potholders, no you're looking for a challenge. Something different. You need new techniques if you want to keep your Etsy shop alive. You're not struggling... yet.

You pull out a book on how to crochet replicas of different plants; like a cactus or a daisy. You could do little faces on them or do a rainbow of colours. Your mind runs crazy with all sorts of alterations. You open it and flip through the pages, hiding behind the cover as you turn and lean on the shelf.

"Cute," a voice draws the book down an inch and you look down the aisle at the man facing the opposite shelf. He taps the shelf beneath the 'Gardening' sign as he smiles at you, "you know, they got a whole bunch of books about real plants down here."

You bring your brows together and furrow your nose. Who is this strange man judging you? The gall. I mean, look at him. He's a bit too old to be commenting on your interests.

"Uh, thanks, but I don't like to get dirty," you say without thinking. You're not the type to be rude but something about his tone really irks you.

You shift back to face the shelf and close the book. You slide out the other with sweater patterns. Those take so long, you haven't added those to your catalogue. You put it back and adjust your glasses as you pause and tap the book in your hand. Oh, great idea and you don't even need a pattern. You could do book covers and little bookmarks!

"You knit?" The man startles you again as he approaches.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, "crochet, but I can knit too."

"Huh, my mom does too. Tried to teach me but I'm all thumbs. I'm better with plants," he says.

You shake your head and focus on the shelf. You don't get why this guy is bugging you. On first glance, he's got at least ten years on you, maybe more. And why the heck is he bringing up his mom? You don't know her.

"Look, I hope I didn't come off rude, I was just... curious. I've never seen anyone knit a cactus before," he puts his hand on the top shelf.

"Crochet," you correct him again, keeping your chin set ahead of you.

"Yeah, crochet," he chuckles, "sorry, I'm a bit ignorant.”

You bite your tongue. You've heard of older men being a bit much but have lucked out in not being bothered by them. Until that moment.

“Cole,” he offers as he pulls his hand off the shelf, holding it out.

You don't even look. You're too nervous and honestly, annoyed. You want him to go away.

You count your losses. You don't need to splurge on a pile of books. One is fine, you can see if there's anything new on Pinterest.

You turn on your heel and head down the aisle, away from him. You hear him huff as you turn down the next, tempted to stop and look at the Tarot but wanting to get far away. You could probably hide out in the non-fiction section until he evacuates.

As you get to the end of that aisle, you find the book crushed against your front. You bounce off another person and stumble back. You look up at the stranger, Cole. He puts his hands up defenseless and grins.

“Oops, sorry, we keep running into each other.”

“Uh, alright,” you try to sidestep him but he does the same. You both move in the same pattern, back and forth, getting in each other's way, “okay, okay, just stay still.”

He stops and stares with wide eyes. You slowly sidle by, watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything. This is getting too weird for your liking.

You twirl and swiftly march away, hugging the book tight as you try not to trip in your hurry. You're too exposed at the checkout line so you surpass it and flee towards the comic book section. If that doesn't work, the bathrooms are right behind that.

You finally look back again as you get to the graphic novels. You can only see shelves. You're alone in the aisle, grumbling to yourself in agitation. “Creep.”

You take your time wandering, thinking maybe you might be able to get into Batman as you admire the art on each cover. Your adrenaline cools and you feel a bit less addled.

You sneak around the perimeter of the store and find your way back to the craft section. He's gone. Hopefully he went back home to his sad plants.

It's difficult to shake your unease. You pick out some of the needles they have hung with other small accessories and head to the till.

You join the line, your mind already trying to decide what you want to order at the cafe. As you step up, just about to get your turn at the counter, you feel a nudge, a silty voice rolling into you.

“Uh, excuse me,” the timbre is all too familiar.

“Really, dude,” you snap around, “take a hint.”

“You dropped your gloves.”

He holds up your wadded gloves and you cringe. You force a smile and snatch them away. “Thanks,” you grit out.

“Yeah, just being a nice guy,” he shrugs, “trust me, I got the hint.”

He steps back on his heel and turns his attention to the table of pens and other stationary that separate the tills from the rest of the store. You sniff and roll your eyes, quickly flitting up to checkout. The sooner you're gone, the better.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #ghosted #bookstore au #au #drabble #series #special interest

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tiny-wooden-robot-fics · 2 months

Text

Magnolia - Chapter Eight

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Thank you, Saint Kendall @strawberrystepmom for being my beta for this chapter and rescuing me from the insanity of looking at the same draft over and over again. 💙💙💙

Summary:

Everything, she thinks absently, the feeling behind the thought so strong that for a moment she worries she has actually spoken it aloud. If you asked me for everything right now, Suguru… I would give it to you without question.

Suguru, for his part, can’t help but to take all that she’s offering him. The clock in his head is winding down, keeping him cognizant of how much more he can drink from her without putting her in danger.

He is lamenting every second that brings him closer to the point where he has to stop. He knows that the stronger his feelings are for the person he’s feeding on, the sweeter the blood.

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6��7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Warnings: Biting, blood drinking, fondling

Chapter Eight: To Bloom Under Moonlight

One drop of midnight in the dawn of life’s pulsating stream Marks her an alien from her kind, a shade amid its gleam. Forevermore her step she bends, insular, strange, apart-- And one can read the riddle of her strangely warring heart. -Georgia Douglas Johnson, The Octoroon

I wanted to be loved for something. I wanted… to be useful, to be needed, to be happy in knowing I was finally doing something worthwhile.

I want you to have this.

I want to be useful to you.

The thoughts are her own, but they feel distant and faint. Her eyes are on the ceiling, staring up at the muted yellow lamplight coming through the pretty fixtures in Suguru’s bedroom.

They’d moved there at his suggestion. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Lia had asked, half-jokingly.

“Only if you want to be seduced,” Suguru had answered. And though he’d offered her a teasing grin, there was something in the tone of his voice that suggested he would oblige her if being seduced by him was what she was aiming for.

For now, he is taking his time treating himself to the taste of her skin, and it reminds her just how long it’s been since anyone has touched her in an intimate way… and just how long prior to him anyone had touched her at all. He isn’t exactly delicate in the way he’s kissing and nipping at her neck, but she is discovering that she likes him less than gentle.

He pulls back a little, bringing one hand up to rest on her throat. Two fingers pressed to her pulse point, where the blood flow is the strongest. “Here,” he murmurs, looking intently at her. “Is that okay?”

When she swallows he feels the motion of it, fluttering beneath his hand. “Yes,” she answers belatedly, and now her pulse has quickened under his fingers. Suguru searches her face, looking for anything even remotely resembling fear. He finds none. There is only nervous anticipation, deep curiosity, and a strong undercurrent of lust.

He tucks that last one away, pushing it to the back of his mind.

He would like to revisit it later.

“Ready?” He whispers, as he dips his head down, tracing the path he wants to take along her skin with his tongue. She nods, and it’s all the assent he needs.

“Oh,” she gasps, when she feels his fangs puncture her. It momentarily knocks the breath out of her, and she is strangely reminded of all the times she’s had her ears pierced. Absurd, she thinks, the ridiculousness of the comparison striking her as humorous. She has little time to dwell on it though, as Suguru begins to gently draw blood from the place where he’s penetrated her skin.

This, she can compare to nothing.

There is no experience in her mental reservoir, no recollection of anything that has ever been done to her that even comes close to this.

It isn’t just the feel of his lips and his tongue and his teeth on her skin, although she sifts through the memories of past lovers - few though they are - and finds that this feeling is leagues ahead of anything she’s felt before.

It’s in the way she can feel every drop of blood that leaves her body, beckoned onto his tongue like it’s being called home. As if her blood has always belonged to Suguru, and she has merely been keeping it safe for him.

It’s in the way he drinks from her; he does not devour her the way she imagined that he would. Instead, he is unhurriedly savoring the taste of her, as if she is a feast full of courses set before him purely for the purpose of his enjoyment.

He has one hand braced on the mattress below her head, holding himself up so as not to put his full weight on her… and she wonders if he realizes where his other hand has wandered to, cupped around her breast, thumbing at her nipple through the thin fabric of one of his t-shirts that she’s claimed for her own.

Not that she minds.

She arches into him, offering more of her breast to his touch, more of her blood to his tongue.

He is lamenting every second that brings him closer to the point where he has to stop. He knows that the stronger his feelings are for the person he’s feeding on, the sweeter the blood.

Satoru is the only person whose blood is sweeter than hers.

The thought should surprise him, but it doesn’t.

The invisible clock in his head ticks one last time, and reluctantly he withdraws his fangs from her, lapping gently at the puncture marks to stem the flow of blood. He presses a kiss to her skin, gentle and sweet, before raising his head to look at her.

“Ah,” he exhales, when his gaze falls on where his hand is still cupped around her breast. Quickly he pulls his hand away. “Sorry---”

“You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t apologize for things you don’t need to apologize for,” she manages. The corners of her eyes crinkle in amusement as she bites back a laugh, even as her skin tingles hotly from the afterimage of his touch.

“I got carried away,” he sighs. “I should be sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mind,” she admits softly. Her ears and cheeks are burning, and she fights the urge to look away from him. She realizes that she doesn’t quite know how to express what she wants, but she tries anyway. “Suguru… I don’t really know how it works with you and Satoru…”

Puzzled at why she’s bringing his husband up right now, he blinks at her. “Me and Satoru…?”

“You’re married,” she blurts. She winces, understanding that it must sound like an accusation. “I meant--- I know you two have had other relationships, but… I don’t know how he would feel about---”

“Ha,” he laughs wryly, catching her meaning. “Satoru’s not the jealous type.” He shifts to sit up on his elbows and look at her properly. “And you can bet that he’s having more than his fair share of fun where he is.”

She absorbs this silently. Then, “So he wouldn’t be upset about this?”

“He wouldn’t,” Suguru offers her a reassuring smile. “But if you’re worried, we can call him so you can ask for yourself.”

Her face goes hot again at the thought of such a conversation. Up until now, even knowing that Satoru may return any day now, she has only ever been in the peripheral of any conversation the two men have had. She doesn’t think she wants this to be the first thing she talks directly to Satoru about.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she laughs. Her laughter subsides, and she takes a deep breath. “In that case…” He’s so close, right there in front of her, and she can’t hide her face. You’re an adult, she chides herself silently. There’s nothing wrong with asking for sex.

But what if he doesn’t want to? What if he’s not attracted to me in that way, and I just end up embarrassing myself by even mentioning it? What if---

“Are you going to let me in on whatever the secret is, or should I start guessing?” There’s amusement in his eyes when she looks back at him, but there is also that kindness that she’s grown so fond of. It gives her the courage to speak plainly.

“Suguru, I want… to have sex. With you.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Nine: The Question Answered (Coming Soon)

#tinywoodenrobot fics #JJK #Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK fanfic #JJK fic #Geto Suguru #Gojo Satoru #black oc

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3terna15unshin3 · 10 months

Note

I NEED MATTY PROPOSING TO ESTE AND/OR THEIR WEDDING I BEG 🙏🙏

Dedication

The proposal

1420 words

—

a/n: thank u sm for this request bc i loved dreaming this up !!! also slightly inspired by charli and george’s little tea tray bc that broke my heart. wedding blurb may come in the future but for now here's the proposal :))) anyway sorry if this is bad i haven’t written in like over a month😭😭 but i kind of love it so enjoy lmfao love u

Read the main fic here!

—

It’s late in the evening, the summer sun is dim and almost hidden by the horizon. An orange and pink and lilac sky surrounds the mosquitoes that buzz about. Este sits at the small table in their backyard and lights a citronella candle to stop them from nipping at her. It makes the air smell like fond August memories.

She can hear Matty shuffling around the kitchen as he makes the two of them cups of tea. He’s been out at the studio most of the evening, so they ate dinner separately. On nights like these, they almost always share sweet and lazy conversations over a brew afterwards, to make up for that missed time. Their sometimes foggy minds or tense muscles need a way to find solace before resting each night—and Matty and Este find that in each other.

The glass doors reopen to reveal Matty and the two mugs. He had a book tucked under his arm, too.

“Thank you, love,” Este says after he sets hers down. The table is small and round and flush against the concrete wall, so he sits on the left and her on the right. They lean against the house with their teas between them and peer at the sunset, taking leisurely sips.

He hums in response to say ‘you’re welcome’ wordlessly. Then, he hands the book over to Este. “Got you something while I was out.”

Once it’s in her hands, she recognises it to be a copy of And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos by John Berger. It makes her smile since it’s a favourite of hers. Este had never seen the cover design before.

“Is this a new edition?” She asks, admiring its colours and typography and the way they perfectly align with her taste.

Her eyes break contact with the book to look up at Matty, who gives a nonchalant shrug.

“Not sure,” He says, “Maybe the inside cover will say.”

Matty’s right; the publication information is typically listed within the first few pages. She has to flip and find it quite often for work. Este likes his suggestion, a smile still pinned on her face from the nice surprise as she opens it up to feel its pages. They feel thick and durable and have rough, haphazard edges.

She drags her fingers over them to appreciate their character, then flips past the first page that reads its title, and sets her eyes onto the small text on the opposite side. Before they find any answers Este is looking for, they settle on another—much more important—spectacle. It makes her heart stop. The dedication. She stares at it in shock.

The book is one she’s reread plenty of times, so she remembers John Berger’s small blurb that formally thanks some institutions and few people who helped him put together the prose to follow. But it doesn’t say that. Instead, it reads,

For my Este. I’d like to make you my wife if you’ll let me.

Matty’s knee shakes from the other side of the table. He watches her mouth fall agape and smiles nervously. He isn’t sure why the nerves are there, since he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. But they race through Matty’s body as he waits for her to say something.

He slides the ring in an open velvet box across the table to her when she finally looks up.

“Are you fucking joking?” Este’s voice quivers.

She can tell there are words threatening to spill from his tongue and every emotion possible washes over her when she imagines how beautiful the words will be. She has to stop herself from jumping out of her seat and tackling him in excitement and pure adoration.

Tears well up in the corner of her eyes at the expense of those thoughts swirling in her mind and Matty reaches over to wipe one away when it escapes. He does the same to his own when they eventually fall. More rush down her cheek when Este realises that he’s crying too, but of course he is.

“Course I’m not joking,” he starts, voice equally as weak. “There are a million ways I could explain how much I love you and why I am so desperate to marry you, but one that feels so authentic to us is with this. This book is so special. Not only because I know how much you love it—that’s the reason I read it in the first place—but also because it sort of changed me,”

Este reaches across the table to set her hand over his and rub her thumb back and forth against his skin.

“When I was falling in love with you, so much of that time was spent away from you. It was the busiest year of my life. And in moments—not in doubt, but just in fear of tainting how significant your love was to me—I considered that to be an opportunity for weakness to grow. That maybe one day, that distance could wedge between us. But when I read this, it showed me just how important every aspect of those times are. The far and close. It says,”

‘When you are away, you are nevertheless present for me. This presence is multiform: it consists of countless images, passages, meanings, things known, landmarks, yet the whole remains marked by your absence, in that it is diffuse. It is as if your person becomes a place, your contoured horizons. I live in you then like living in a country. You are everywhere.

In the country which is you I know your gestures, the intonations of your voice, the shape of every part of your body. What changes when you are there before my eyes is that you become unpredictable. What you are about to do is unbeknown to me. I follow you. You act. And with what you do, I fall in love again.’

“And yes, I did memorise that for the purpose of reciting it back to you,” They both laugh. “But it wasn’t hard, because it felt so true. You are everywhere, Este. Even when we aren’t face-to-face, everything I know of this world is through what it means to love you. And all I want for the rest of my life is for you to keep doing and for me to keep falling in love with it.”

By now, the neckline of his t-shirt is dampened with the tears. Matty gets up from his chair to kneel between her legs and hold Este’s waist. The rise and fall of her breathing is unsteady from all the crying but it still calms him. She cups his face like it’s the last time she’ll ever have the chance to.

“Marry me, please,” She utters desperately and brings his face up to kiss him. Matty’s lips taste of salt and English Breakfast tea. They can feel each other’s grins.

“I think I'm supposed to say that,” he argues, leaning his forehead against Este’s.

“Took too long.” She jokes. Matty stands and lifts her into an embrace. Her legs wrap around him and he spins with joy, then sets her down.

“Was the speech too cheesy?” asks Matty, half-serious.

Este shakes her head. “You are everywhere, Matty.”

They stand and stare, wiping the last of the tears off of each other’s faces. He turns to reach for the ring and she lets him slip it onto her finger. She admires its chunky bezel and the way she hadn't seen an engagement ring quite like it before. Este kisses him once more, and studies his hysteric smile. His eyes are squinty.

And then, they go about their evening. They sit back down, each in their usual chair; and though their teas are a bit cold now, it doesn’t bother them.

Matty explains that he found a local Manchester book binder to design a cover for And Our Faces specifically for her, and to bind the proposal into its dedication. He even chose the font, paper, and roughed edges that he thought she'd like the best. Este expresses how perfectly loving the gesture is and grips the book—now the most prized in her collection—with passion.

Excited discussions of a ceremony (its venue and her dress and his suit and how soon they can do it) are exchanged over their now empty mugs as what's left of the orange summer sun washes over them with charisma.

Somehow it can’t make the moment any more beautiful than it already is.

#tbsg #meste blurb #ask #matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x oc #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #fluff #fanfiction

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foxymoxynoona · 2 years

Note

ummm i need an extra scene of Meadow couple exploring anal play pretty please

this is my formal drabble request

incredible new banner by @borabae-gx

Clarified with submitter they wanted pegging and so here we are! Hope this is what you were hoping for 😎 It is um pretty filthy so...

Story: Meadow Characters: Jungkook and Enikö Word Count: 4878 CW: Explicit sex! 18+, oh boy this is filthy: so much cum, rutting alpha wolf shifter who gets a lil' subby at the sight of his omega with a strapon, power play, dirty talk to begging, anal sex male receiving (fingers & dildo), rimming, prostate orgasm/milking, little bit of ball slapping and nipple pinching, so much cum (just saying it again), safeword is pineapple

At the start of Jungkook’s rut, Enikö found herself once again lamenting the seasons they’d missed out on because of her pregnancies. How could she not, once she fully understood what her alpha wolf was like in his rut? Why did people complain and roll their eyes about the season so much, and offer her sympathies, as if holing up with him in the uppermost floor of the house and getting fucked brainless for days until he calmed down was somehow a bad thing. Sometimes, enjoyably, several times in a season. It was filthy and glorious and they didn’t even have to feel guilty about the time away from their work and children because it was a medical need! He didn’t have a choice! Maybe he could have tried to suppress it with drugs but… why? Why not enjoy these days sequestered together, getting reacquainted with any inch of each others’ bodies that might have been neglected since last year? And the kids got so much time with their grandparents! Win win!

There was certainly not an inch of Enikö’s body that has been neglected in the last few days. Jungkook’s stamina on a normal day was impressive but after two full days of nearly non-stop fucking, Enikö’s own stamina was reaching its limit. Everything was sticky and sore, and Jungkook’s apologetic attempts to give her a back rub had just riled him up again. She wouldn’t have minded him fucking at the same time except it made the massage too inconsistent to be any good, at times too hard and at other times too soft as he grunted and gasped until his hips stuttered against hers and then he’d dozed off only to wake again hungry and ready to go again.

“I want to sleep,” she complained when her own attempts at a nap were interrupted.

“I know, baby, I know, one more and I’ll let you sleep,” he promised. Empty words. And she loved those empty words for the first two days but now… now she was ready for something else to finally be empty. She wanted to sleep! A shower and a sleep, and there was no way Jungkook was going to let her shower until he was truly empty and passed out enough to break the rut.

So the next time Jungkook began to rut against her leg after a frustratingly short meal on the couch, Enikö took matters into her own hands. When his lips moved against hers, she kissed him back harder, and then down his jaw and neck, nipping harder with each kiss until he shouted in pain and his dick twitched against her stomach.

“En,” he groaned.

“Turn over.”

“Huh?” His voice went lower, his eyes widened as he leaned back to look at her with a mixture of nerves and naked anticipation.

“You heard me, don’t make me say it again,” she teased, and snapped her teeth at his nose before going to dig through the chest of toys they kept tucked away up here. He sat on the couch, watching her expectantly, twitching dick the only thing moving. Poor baby was hard and leaking and sweaty, flushed, breathing heavily, watching her closely with those wide dark eyes that looked almost soft for the first time since they’d come up here. He’d felt the shift in dynamics and she was glad to see the impact. She hoped that meant this would work.

She took her time getting the harness on, enjoying how she could practically hear him swallow as she pulled the straps tight around her waist and thighs. She didn’t look his direction; she didn’t need to confirm his attention. Just grabbed a fresh bottle of lube and pushed her hips forward as she sauntered back to the couch, silicone dildo pointing right at him.

“It’s a bigger one,” he noticed, eyes trailing down her body. Already his behavior had changed. Gone was the growling, snapping, aggressive alpha with only a few strokes of her faux-phallus.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “But I know you can take it, alpha.”

He swallowed and licked his lips and shifted on the couch. It would be easy to read his behavior as nervous but by now, she knew it was more anticipation than fear. He’d been nervous in the beginning, sure, the first time he’d been too embarrassed to look her in the eye as he asked if she could “try that thing you like on me” after years of brushing the offer away. He still hadn’t been able to look her in the eye after either, after he’d orgasmed himself speechless, and it took a long time of soothing and scenting him to get him to curl up against her and admit he was scared about how good it had felt, how much he had loved being fucked by her, and what that meant about him as an alpha.

What she thought it meant was that he enjoyed getting fucked.

Which was good because it turned out Enikö really, really loved fucking her alpha.

His breath shuddered in a gasp as she grabbed his thigh and lifted his leg up; he grabbed the couch cushion like he thought she was just going to shove in but she only looked.

“You have covered me in your cum,” she mused. “Hold your leg.” He did, perfectly silent and still as she slid her hand down to brush against his asshole, her other hand still stroking the dildo. “You won’t let me shower or sleep–”

“You’re my mate,” he growled, briefly strong, eyes flickering gold. She stroked her finger over his asshole again and he shivered. It was amusing that he’d tried to sound so possessive while holding himself open for her like that. While trembling with anticipation of what she was going to do to him.

“You’re so full of cum,” she said. Just her fingers grazing his entrance made his eyes flutter closed. “I’m going to empty you out so we can both get some rest.”

“I’ll keep fucking you until I’m empty–”

She pressed her finger against his asshole and he broke off into a desperate whine. The noise made her shiver.

“My turn now, baby.”

His voice was much more submissive as he started to move, “You said turn over–”

“I changed my mind. Stay like this,” she decided. She let go of the dildo to run her hands up and down his thighs, spreading his legs the same way he did to her so often. It was a sacrifice, because his grunts as she’d spank him while fucking were so good, but he’d really put her through it this rut, her cunt ached from too much attention, and she would enjoy watching his face as he tried to stay so tough during his rut while splayed out on his back like this. His thighs twitched as she rubbed up and down; his cock bounced against his stomach, begging for touch. She kindly slid her fingers along his shaft and down around his balls, relishing in his groan. His knees bent when her fingers drifted back to his asshole, feet flexing like he was preparing to spring away.

“Yeah, like this,” she nodded. “I want you to cum all over your own stomach and chest.”

“En–”

“What’s wrong, too tough-guy to get marked by your own scent?” she teased. He didn’t answer as her fingers dug into the base of his cock, thumbs rubbing the softer skin behind his balls. She leaned forward and spit on his asshole and saw the ragged way his breath hitched in his chest. Everything she knew she had learned from him, which made it even more fun to see him affected by them..

Her tongue against his asshole loosened his voice again. His legs shifted, hips rocking as she held him open and lapped at his hole, then up to suck on his balls, then back down. All the while the sweetest gasps and choked moans floated down on her.

“I’m not even in you yet and you’re already whimpering,” she taunted, certain it was something he’d said to her before. He clenched as she poked her tongue against the pucker, not surprised when his hands drifted down to her head, probably a desperate attempt not to stroke his cock. When she lifted up to take a good look at his flushed face, she noted too the cum leaking from his tip, a gossamer string connecting to the pearly dab on his abs.

“I didn’t cum yet,” he insisted.

“Good boy, not yet.” She bit his inner thigh playfully, amused by his nervous laugh at the feel of her teeth on his skin. He laughed because he liked it, she could tell by the goosepimples that spread across his skin.

“I feel stupid sitting like this,” he admitted.

“You’re thinking too much.” She slid her hands along his thighs again to soothe, and kept it up with one hand as her other reached for the lube. “Keep holding your legs up, unless you’d rather spread yourself for me.”

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

“Right now it’s mine,” she countered, coating her dildo with the lube and looking down at him posed for her so pretty. So uncomfortable. So nervous. So eager he was leaking. So hopeful he was willing to do what she said with only a little fuss. “Right now your hole is mine. Right now you’re going to take mine until you’re a whimpering, quivering mess–”

“Fuck, Enna–”

“Until you’re so empty you’ll cry at the thought of cumming again, you couldn’t knot if your life depended on it–”

“You like this too much,” he mumbled, dimples showing as his eyes closed, like he could swim in her dominant words. She knew he loved it, even when he acted above it. It was easy to get into character right now. She was tired. She wanted to sleep.

She squirted a glob of lube on his asshole in retaliation and he hissed, then cried out as she pressed her thumb against him, against and in.

“Ah ah ah!” he cried out, squirming at the slow intrusion.

“Shhh baby it’s just my thumb, that’s nothing for a big alpha like you.” She squeezed his thigh and pressed her thumb further against the clench of his muscles, a gentle steady thrust to work out his nerves. “Relax, you know you’ll love this.” He groaned as she pushed past the ring of resistance and twitched as his body clenched to accommodate. “Good, baby, just like that.”

“En.”

She continued to thrust her thumb, adoring the way his eyes fluttered closed and his brow dropped and he tried to concentrate on relaxing when his body was telling him to do the opposite. She knew he enjoyed the tremor of discomfort mixed with the pleasure; she took her time working the lube into him, pulling out and rubbing around his hole and then back in, easing his body into relaxing and remembering how good this was. She traded her thumb for a finger, slightly smaller, then had him gasping and twisting again as she worked two fingers in. She dumped on more lube, feeling her own heart rate picking up at the sight of his body swallowing her fingers like that. It would never fail to make her proud that though he’d done plenty of things with other women before her, this was one of many things only she would ever do to him. And he loved it.

“En,” he whined, dropping his knees and grabbing the couch cushions, nails scratching against the fabric. “Fuck… finger my asshole…”

“I am. Don’t be bossy.”

“Ah you’re going to make me cum,” he whined, losing himself and pulling his cheeks apart for her, already surrendering to the pleasure. She watched his cock twitch and another glob of cum slowly ooze out, no force behind it. She twisted her fingers and pressed deeper, sliding along his walls to find that spot that made his legs suddenly straighten and his head curl forward as he panted and moaned.

His whine changed in tone as she eased her fingers out, his eyes pitiful in their disappointment. She enjoyed watching him clench around her absence.

“En, please, please just go back to– I was so close–”

“Shhhh.” She leaned forward and kissed away his trembling worry. He groaned onto her tongue and thrust against her stomach so rapidly, clearly his desperate body driven on instinct.

“I need to fuck,” he gasped. “I need to– sit on my cock, En. I need to cum in you. I –aghh,” he gasped out as she slid the head of her dildo across his hole. She kissed him harder, tongue licking into his mouth as she pushed against him. She’d done her best to soften him open but his body resisted the bigger, harder intrusion. “Please,” he panted. “Please, En, I want you in me.”

She gripped the dildo and pushed harder, planting her feet and leaning her weight into it now as the head of the dildo forced him open. He yelled and grabbed the couch cushions behind his head, legs lifting up without her order as she sank into him. If only she could feel first hand the way his body was clenching around her dildo, the way hers did around his other times. He whined and whimpered and twisted, trying to see around his own erratically twitching cock and swollen balls.

“Shhhh baby baby, you’re doing so good,” she encouraged, peppering kisses over his face as he gasped. “Just sit for a moment, just relax, just get used to me.”

“It’s bigger,” he whined, nose bumping mindlessly against her mouth. “Fuck.”

“It feels that much bigger? It’s not much bigger.”

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he groaned, squeezing the cushions so hard, biceps flexing, as his hip slowly curled up, taking her deeper of his own accord. “Fuck!” he groaned and cum oozed from the head of his cock, spurting over both their chests. “Please pump me–”

“No. Not yet.”

“En,” he whined. She loved his whine so much, this pitiful little noise only she ever got to hear. She kissed him hard and pulled out a couple inches –not all the way– before pushing slowly deeper, swallowing his strangled cries. She let him rest for a minute like that, impaled on her but unpressured, and just kissed his face as he alternated growls and grumbles and sighs and full body twitches.

“Wolf fighting you?”

He panted and nodded.

“I’m not going to stop fucking if you shift,” she teased, though it was definitely not true. “Tell him not to get any ideas and just to let you enjoy it.”

“So un-alpha–”

“Not true. A good alpha can take it harder than this.”

“I can,” he gasped out. “I want…” He shivered. She rocked her hips slowly and could tell the moment she put pressure in just the right place by the heave of his chest. She pulled slowly out and his groan took on a disappointed edge. “En…”

“Yes, alpha?”

He reached for with one hand, pulling her down into a kiss, and gave his cock a few strokes with the other. It took her a second to realize what he was doing, until the gesture made her recognize the shift in his vibe as he decided to take matters into his own hands rather than beg.

She grabbed his wrists and pulled them away; he put up just enough of a fight for her to feel strong as she pressed his hands back to the cushions behind him.

“Uh-uh. Hands off.”

“You don’t understand,” he gritted out. “I need to cum, and if you’re just going to tease me…” There was an edge in his voice and she saw the muscles in the sides of his neck straining.

“Sorry, am I going too slow?”

“Yes, just fuck me already! Don’t make me tell you again, little one.”

She didn’t appreciate the tone and so was less gentle as she shoved the dildo back in. He gasped and twisted. She leaned further forward, pressing deeper and deeper, and bit his shoulders and neck and chest until she was flush against his body and his skin was dotted with her white bites. His chest heaved, panting; he stared at her with wide eyes, mouth hanging open. Everything would feel more right now while he was rutting. Good. His teeth clicked as she shoved his jaw up, demanding the exposure of his neck as she pulled out and thrust into him hard. He shouted and grabbed at her hips, thrusting up to meet her.

“You trying to fuck yourself on my cock?” she asked him sweetly. Outside of this moment, she’d die talking like this, but he loved it so much, it had made her brave over time. She was still holding his jaw up, making his voice sound strained.

“Please. Please, baby… need it so bad…”

“Need me to fuck harder? Say it again without the sass this time.”

“Fuck me, baby, hard as you can, please, please.”

“So polite even when you’re rutting, huh?” she teased, leaning down to bite his earlobe as she gave a hard thrust. He grunted and squeezed the couch cushions. “Too hard?”

“Again.”

So she did it again and bit his neck this time, kissing and licking to balance the pleasure and pain. But she wanted to see him, and pushed herself up, hands braced on the back of his legs so she could watch his contorting face and twitching cock with every stroke of her own. It was intoxicating to watch, delicious to listen to the way different strengths and speeds affected the noises he made. His cock looked so needy and desperate for touch but she refused to just yet. That was going to be the orgasm to end all orgasms, the orgasm to let her get some sleep.

He curled forward, grabbing her hips and pulling her harder and faster against him, pounding her into his own asshole as his groan turned into a roar. She fucked as hard as she could as he helplessly hooked his arms under his legs and cried out. Untouched, his cock erupted again, cum shooting up, dashing across the sweaty flushed skin of his chest, across his chin and cheek, dotting his sweaty hair. It was so fucking hot. He looked up at her through his own cum, clearly shocked, and Enikö fell forward to kiss him, not stopping her hips even when he bucked.

“Shit, I–”

“It’s so hot, it’s so hot, alpha,” she gasped. “I love seeing you with your own cum on your face, oh my god.”

“No, I don’t like it– agh, slow down!”

She did, stilling her hips but not pulling out because, “You aren’t done.”

“Let me breathe a second…”

“Hm…” She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She ran her hands along his thighs and across his stomach and chest, smearing in the cum, but when he started wiping it off his face, she leaned forward to lick off instead. Since she hadn’t pulled out, it pushed her deeper and he groaned and shuddered but remained silent under her tongue. So she began to gently rock again, chasing the high of hearing his voice catch like that. She nibbled his mouth and his jaw, his ear, down his neck and twisted them both sideways onto the couch so she could kneel between his legs this time and stretch out on top of him, pressing his cock between them..

“Good, baby,” she murmured against his skin. “I think you like the bigger one.”

“I…” He broke off with a strangled gasp as she pulled all the way out and pushed back in. His body had relaxed more, it was more accepting of her, but she knew he’d still feel every penetration. She pushed against his chest so she could guide the dildo better, out and in. His mouth hung open, eyes dark and slitted, legs splayed. She pressed his knees to his chest with his dick trapped on her side of his thighs, swollen head shiny and leaking.

“I get it now,” she murmured.

“Hm?”

“Why you like watching my body take you,” she grinned, staring at her dildo disappearing into his hole and the way he clenched in the void when she pulled out. His huff preceded him trying to cover himself. “No, don’t be shy. It’s sexy.” She pushed in and leaned forward to kiss him. “Don’t be shy, alpha, it’s just me. Your omega can know something like this about you. You know this about me. You know how hungry I am for you.” She bit his mouth, kissing him even though he could barely return the gesture as she found just the right angle to buck against. His whimper made it obvious she’d hit the spot, just like it was obvious he tried not to whine like that, but she was relentless.

“Right there, alpha?” she asked, stroking into him. “Is that the spot?” His body answered for him since he could not, cum oozing out of his cock like she’d flipped his switch. She kept her pace the same but leaned back to watch the pearly jizz pool and slide down his thighs. She scooped it down to smear around his hole instead, letting it join the mess of lube letting her glide so freely in and out.

“Suck my cock,” he pleaded, a sure finishing move, but she refused. He’d fuck her mouth again and her throat was already sore. Instead she pushed his hands back up and pressed his legs apart and pinched his nipples, not giving him a rest. Maybe it had been an empty demand anyway, she could feel his energy starting to flag; she must finally be getting to the bottom of that cum reserve that seemed so endless during a rut.

She slapped his nipples and pinched them again, then reached down and slapped his balls to make him hiss.

“How much do you still have for me?” she demanded. “How long are you going to hold out? Let it all out, baby.” She slapped his balls again, harder. He whimpered. She slapped harder until he finally croaked out “pineapple.” More cum oozed out, even before she ran her hands up and down his swollen shaft to chase the pain with pleasure. The shudder ran up his whole body and she quickly pulled her hands away.

“You like hearing me whine,” he complained.

“I do.”

“Please, just finish me.”

“Hard or soft?”

“Hard,” he answered quickly. “Hard hard, you have no idea how hard it is not to flip and fuck you right now–”

“You will not–”

“So fuck me harder!”

She picked up the pace, watching his cock bounce with each thrust, watching another dribble of cum leak out as she reached deep. She grabbed his legs to pull and he braced himself against the arm rest of the couch as she fucked harder, so hard she thought it must hurt him but he liked it if it did. The profanities flowed from his mouth, his whole body writhing and bucking as she split him with the dildo. His moans reached a fever pitch until she finally took pity on him and grabbed his dick, dragging her hands roughly up and down, practically using it as leverage as she whipped her hips against his ass.

“FUCK” he shouted, legs curled in the air, face contorted in what looked like rage or pain as cum shot out again. He bucked and rolled and she kept going as he gave a completely silent shout and curled up. His gasp made it sound like he hadn’t breathed in hours but she kept going, slowing her thrusts but busying her hands, squeezing up and up, wringing the cum from his body.

“Yeah, cum baby, cum it all out, I’m not stopping until I hear the word so don’t try to shake me off–”

“Fuck fuck Enna,” he practically sobbed, grabbing his legs and curling forward. Another dollop of cum squeezed out, all over her hands. She’d found the spot with the dildo in his ass and just rocked against it, pressing, working him from every angle as he crumbled in her hands. He bucked into her hand but no word, so she kept going, a tight O around his head hard and fast while her thumb dug down behind his balls and her dildo milked that prostate dry. He shouted and she squeezed less cum out, and then less, until he grabbed her hips and pulled her deep one last time, his body convulsing as she wrung the last pitiful drops out of him.

“Pineapple,” he whimpered. “Pineapple pineapple.” Instantly she released him as he whined it again, “Pineapple.”

“Empty baby?”

His cock rocked and twitched in the air but nothing came out.

“God that’s so much cum,” she gasped, looking around. Certainly more than an ordinary day of this kind of play.

“Enikö…” His voice was whisper faint as he collapsed backwards, chest heaving, eyes closed.

“I have to pull out. I’ll go slow. Are you ready?”

He licked his lips and nodded and winced, though she did her best to be gentle. His hole clenched in complaint as soon as she was out, and he bucked when she stroked it to soothe. How beautiful he was, completely fucked out like that. She watched with interest at the way his cock pulsed but failed to form the knot it no doubt wanted to. She undid the clasps of her harness and set the whole thing on the table to clean later, and stretched out on top of him, and stroked his hair back. He could barely open his eyes but still smiled and turned into her kiss. His skin was filthy, sweaty, but cooler to the touch.

“I broke your rut,” she murmured.

“You broke me.”

“In a good way?”

“Fuck.”

His mouth was lazy, slow against hers. Another shudder ran through his body and she smiled and debated about her own need right now.

“You still need to be fucked?” he asked, which was honestly a wild question considering he clearly couldn’t move right now. She doubted he could even use his hand, frankly. It delighted her, to leave him like that after he’d done it to her so many times during the last two days.

“You’ve fucked me plenty,” she assured him. “Just go to sleep, alpha.”

“But you smell wet.”

“Shhh.”

“Ride my face, baby–”

Instead she got up, ignoring the shakiness of her own legs, and retrieved the first vibrator she could find and collapsed back on top of him. He groaned as soon as he heard the noise.

“No, I don’t want it to end with you having to–”

She clamped her hand over his mouth and slid it between her legs. Their faces were inches apart, his lidded gaze meeting hers as she positioned the vibrator just right. Without verbal agreement, neither looked away; everything seemed so still and quiet as Enikö leaned into the building vibration that did all the work alongside the mental video playing in her mind again of exactly what Jungkook looked like when he curled his body up to take her in. It was quick, very quick. She came with a gasp and pulled it quickly away, sensitive sooner after so much activity. The orgasm wasn’t even that strong but it was a needed release, a relief of the tension she’d wound in her body getting to fuck Jungkook like that. Only her. She was the only person in the world he would trust with that need, that vulnerability, that pleasure that still frightened him. Why? Men could be so silly about something that felt good. And damn, did it clearly make him feel good.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a lazy kiss to her forehead.

“For fucking you?” she grinned.

She felt the pout of his lips as he corrected, “For breaking my rut.”

“Thank you for trusting me with your rut and your needs. I’ll do that sooner next time.” Now that she knew he still enjoyed that kind of thing while he was rutting, they could bring so much of their other play into the rut room. She hadn’t known for sure if it would be welcome while he was his most dominant, or whatever but… apparently yes.

“Hmph. Well. You trust me with yours.” A pause. “Sorry I didn’t get to finish you.”

“Don’t worry. When I go into heat, I’ll be very demanding. It’ll always be even between us, Koo. And anyway, I really enjoy fucking you.”

“Yeah yeah, I can tell.” He chuckled and coughed a little, probably dehydrated. He’d wake up and chug a liter of water in a little bit probably. But for now he stone-cold passed out, body finally at rest, instinct convinced he had successfully pupped his mate –despite her birth control and the fact she was the one who’d left him so dry he couldn’t even form a knot. Enikö, feeling very smug and satisfied and more than a little sore, went right to sleep too curled up on the filthy mess coating her alpha’s body.

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