#And that's how Dick figured out it was a simulation... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanaslutt · 2 years ago

Note

i just wanna like… have toji teach me how to give him head 😞

you and me both

contains: fem reader, oral(m!receiving), slightly inexperienced reader, big dick!toji, size kink, manhandling, throat fucking, cum eating, slight asphyxiation, praise, he talks you it, established relationship, dirty talk, sweet!toji :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

You’ve been standing behind the couch where toji sat for 5 minutes now.

Youve been wanting to give him head for a while now, but you have no idea where to even start.

For one you’ve never even sucked a dick before, not having a lot of prior experience before you met toji. And second, his dick was intimidatingly big.

He always had to fuck you open on four of his fingers; having had at least 2 orgasms; before he even thought about putting his dick inside you, and still the stretch was barely manageable.

The thought of what he might do to your throat since having the knowledge of how bad he can wreck your pussy, scared you.

He was so patient with you though, always wiping your fat tears off of your cheeks, cooing at your pained expression, while he let you cockwarm him, getting used to his girth before he ultimately fucked your brains out.

“Ur bein’ fucking creepy doll, what is it.” his deep voice sounded through the room. Making you stand on edge as you bit the inside of your cheek, having been found out.

“Sorry..” you bashfully apologized, walking around the side of the couch to see your boyfriend sprawled out in front of the television.

Big thighs manspreading on the cushions, arms laid out on the back of the couch, one large hand was holding a freshly cracked beer can, as he looked up at you with his dark eyes.

The look you had on your face made him curious as to what the hell you were thinking about. A mix of nervousness and contemplation plastered on your pretty face as you started to climb on him.

You slung your arms over his shoulders, straddling his hips, and placed your head in the crook of his neck and sighed deepy.

“Whacha thinkin about pretty girl?” toji asked, hand not holding his drink coming down to rest against you ass.

“I uh.. wanted to ask for your help.” you softly replied. Toji stayed silent, rubbing his hand over your backside encouragingly as he waiting for you to get the courage to speak again. He brought the beer to his mouth in the meantime, taking a couple sips.

“Been thinking about sucking your dick but uh.. I’ve never done it before.” your unexpected bluntness made him choke on his drink, recovering quickly as he looked at you the best he could with your head being in his neck and all.

“Yeah? Been thinkin’ about it?” he teased, you could practically hear his cocky smirk.

You let out a soft “mhmm” in reply.

Toji always ate you out so good, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess on his sheets every time he was finished licking you clean. He never complained when you didn’t return the favor, he knew how big he was and his experiences with women giving him head in the past wasn’t exactly.. enjoyable.

Reminders of the dull teeth that would scrape against his cock, or the lack of technique the women would use on him would flood his mind whenever he thought about receiving head.

He already picked up on how intimidated you were when his length flopped against his stomach when he removed his boxers, which is why he never dared to bring up the idea.

He figured if you wanted to try it, you would ask, then you would try, and it ultimately it wouldn’t work out like always and that would be alright.

Although toji never complained about it, he had constant fantasies of your lips around his cock. Nights when you weren’t at his apartment he spent his time in his bed, hand wrapped around his thick cock as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He would apply a generous amount of lube, trying to simulate the feeling of your wet mouth as he fucked his hips into his hand, pretending it was sliding down your warm throat.

His fantasy always shattering when he came, vividly picturing your face covered in his cum right before he came, but snapping out of the pipe dream when he felt the hot ropes of cum shoot on his stomach instead.

But that was satisfactory, you did plenty for him in bed, always taking his cock so fucking well, stroking him off with your small hands, his dick pressing between your thighs, your tits; he was spoiled, so who was he to complain?

Although his reply to your confession was fairly composed, toji was mentally losing his shit. Trying not to get hard at the situation and potentially scare you away when you realized his problem, being reminded of just how big he was and turning you off from the idea.

Little did he know you were well aware of that fact already. You would never be able to forget the way he split you open with the sheer size of his cock, for as long as you lived.

“I can teach you if that really sounds like somethin’ you want” he spoke nonchalantly, trying not to get his hopes up at the thought that you might actually be the one to take his dick down your throat, heart betraying him as is practically beat out of his chest.

“Really?” you perked up, sitting up to face him, loooking like an eager puppy. “Can we try it now?” you asked.

exactly like an eagar puppy.

“You sure your ready for it?” he asked, setting his drink down on the side table before joining his other hand in grabbing your ass.

“Why not? you are.” you giggle, glancing down to his lap, referring to the massive tent he was sporting. Clearly his efforts in trying to keep it down were in vein.

but jesus christ was he in high school? popping a boner at the mention of head? good lord he needed to get a grip.

“Smart ass,” he left a light slap on your backside, making you giggle. He leaned over and grabbed a pillow he used as decoration on the sofa, “Go ahead and get on your knees for me, use this so yer knees don’t hurt.” his gruff voice spoke.

You nodded obediently, placing the pillow on the carpet right between his spread thighs, while you folded your knees on the pillow, playing your hands on his knees as you waited for your next instruction.

“Rumor has it my dick is unsuckable, so,” he paused, “if this doesn’t go how you think it will, it’s not yer fault.” he assured, ruffling your hair.

“I can take it.” is the only thing you said back, the look you had in your eyes was so determined, it made his grin stretch across his face.

You watched intently as toji pulled down the band of his sweats and boxers alike. Massive cock springing up like always. His angry tip was leaking so fucking much, you were truly oblivious to how bad this idea affected the older man.

He wrapped his big hand around his thick cock, using the precum he was leaking to ease the slide against the skin as he looked down at you while you watched him stroke himself.

He noticed you squirming from your place on the floor, not to subtly pressing your thighs together.

“Watchin’ me touch myself make ur little pussy all wet?” Toji spoke, smirk, still prevalent on his face. The way in which he spoke made you think you had no shame at all.

You nodded, mouth watering watching his pre bead up in the slid of his cock before dripping down, getting swiped up by tojis large hand.

“‘s so big toji” you spoke, intimidation obviously laced in your voice, but you were so determined to be the one who took tojis cock.

You wanted to show him exactly how good he made you feel when he used his mouth for you.

“C-can I?” you slid your hands on his big thighs, training twords his cock, watching him strok himself steadily.

“Can you what?” Toji always made you use your words. He never got tired of watching how embarrassed and flustered you got over stuff like this.

His head spinning when a blush covered your face, eyes darting around the room before you spoke again, “”Can I touch it, please,” you asked.

Toji quickend his strokes, “Look at me baby.” Your eyes instantly meeting each other at his demand, his eyebrows were furrowed together. A look was plastered on his face that said you can do better than that.

Keeping your eyes on Toji’s dark and intimidating ones, you elaborated begrudgingly, “Wanna stroke your cock Toji, please”

He let out a short aroused laugh, big hand placing itself on your own, against his thigh, “Course you can baby, jus’ had to ask,”

He curled his fingers under yours, scooting his hips towards you on the couch before he placed your hand on his cock, his hand covering yours.

“You don’t need any help with this part right? Little hands always touch me so fucking good.” he praised, retracting his grip around his cock as he let you take over.

Your other hand came up to join the fun, using both your hands to wrap around his cock. You payed special attention to the tip, just how you knew toji liked, twisting your wrists together, creating delicious friction on his length.

Toji’s abs clenched under his shirt, feeling your hands on him always felt too good, his eyes drooping even more as you stroked him with vigor.

His eyebrows suddenly shot up when your head dropped down to his crotch. Your pink tongue darted out to lick in the slit of his cock, licking at the precum that had beaded up again.

He swear his brain short circuited when he felt your warm tongue touch him. That barely there feeling alone felt a hundred times better than his hand trying to mimic your mouth when he was alone.

“Someone’s eagar.” he laughed, arousal seeping into his voice when he spoke, big hand coming down to rest against your head comfortingly.

“Wanna make you feel good, can you uh.” you paused, “can you teach me now?” he thought it was so fucking cute how you currently had his dick in his hands, stroking it with a technique on par with a porn star, and you were embarrassed asking him to show you how to suck his dick.

“Want me to teach my pretty girlfriend how to suck my dick?” he corrected, making you squeeze your thighs together at his filthy mouth, an action that did not go unnoticed by toji; none of your reactions did.

“Please” you whimpered.

He tucked in his lips for a second, reminding himself not to cum the second his tip was in your mouth. Letting his plush lips pop back out he started his lesson.

“Start by lickin’ on it, just like you did a second ago.” he instructed. Toji watched you nod, looking so focused when you dropped your head back down, flattening out your tongue and rubbing it along his tip.

He relished in the feeling of thr little circles and shapes you drew. Your strokes had died down against his length, putting all of your focus on your mouth that would soon be around him.

“You can suck on the tip if you can get yerself to do it too.” He groaned out.

You wasted no time, taking a deep breath through your nose before sliding your lips down around his tip and suckling.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” toji bit his lip between his teeth when you followed his instruction so quickly. “Use your tongue when you suck on it too princess, it’ll make me feel so fuckin good” he added, knowing how much you loved getting him off.

So you listened, rolling your tongue around his tip as you bobbed your head a bit, taking his tip and just under that into your mouth. He tasted salty against your tongue as his tip leaked pre steadily into your mouth.

Toji slung a hand up behind him, placing it on the back of the sofa and squeezing the pillow between his fingers harshly, trying to ground himself, his other tangling itself in your hair still.

He had to actively fight his hips to not thrust into your mouth and just bully his cock down your throat, but it was so fucking hard. Every neuron in his brain was telling him to do so at the visual of you eagerly sucking on his cock.

He clenched his jaw hard when you looked up at him, presumably, for another direction.

“Wanna try taking it a little deeper?” he asked, eyes fluttering when you moaned out an “mhmm” around him, abs clenching at the vibration.

“Good girl.” He praised at your need to learn. “Keep your teeth tucked behind your lips and relax your throat so you don’t choke,” he gagged, though the thought of you choking around him didn’t sound half bad, but he was trying to be nice right now.

“Don’t push urself doll, take more whenever your ready.” he said, restraint was coursing through his veins. He didn’t want to get carried away and start thrusting haphazardly. He knew that if he showed restraint and this went well, that maybe in the future you would let him fuck your throat, that thought kept him sane right now, constantly reminding him of that revelation.

Toji tried to let himself relax against the cushions when you took him a little deeper.

Your mouth was being stretched painfully around his length the further you got down, a similar feeling to how your cunt felt when he slid in for the first time.

Eyes starting to water, forcing back a gag when you barely got halfway down his cock, and he was already pressed to the back of your throat.

Toji’s eyes rolled back in his sockets, he ran his fingers through your hair at the feeling of your mouth constricting him. “Doin so fucking good baby girl shiiiit,” he groned. You rubbed your thighs together at the praise.

So far he only felt your teeth graze him once, and that was already doing way better than the people who have attempted this before you.

The moans and whimpers you let out around him were sending delicious vibrations straight to his balls. His cock throbbing and twitching inside your warm mouth, threatening to spill into the cavern already.

He wanted to let you have your fun before he ruined it with his orgasm, and would ultimately have to wait till his cock was ready again before you continued. Although it probably wouldn’t take long with knowing just how hard he got in seconds at only the thought of your mouth around him, now having experienced it a little, he might not even have a refractory period after he came.

but he digressed

Toji jolted when you gagged around his cock, coughing around him and sending sputters of spit around him. “Fuck, c-careful doll, don’t hurt yourself” Toji groaned.

While you let yourself get used to taking in half, your hands came up to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Bob your head a little pretty thing, keep using your tongue too, just like you did for my tip.” his deep voice instructed when he noticed you just kept his length in your mouth, only moving your hands.

You followed his advice, bringing your warm mouth up, and back down on the amount that was comfortable for you right now, hands meeting your lips on the upstroke.

Toji was in heaven, he wanted to pull out his phone and take a video so he never forgot the scene in front of him.

He had never experienced receiving head that felt this fucking good before. His toes were curling in his slippers, balls tightening, and abs clenching rhythmically to match his heart wet as he watched you work.

It was so messy, spit was accumulating on the base of his cock, and his pelvis. Watching string of spit connect from the base to your small hands and lips was making his head feel fuzzy.

Much to his dismay, you popped off his dick, keeping your grip around the bottom of his cock when you spoke, “Toji, I wanna take it deeper” you whined, sounding frustrated. “Cant do it by myself, It won’t go any further.” you poured up at him, begging eyes pleading for some guidance.

oh this was fucking perfect, he thought.

The promise of future throatfucking that was preventing him from destroying your throat right now; opting to let you set the pace; might be seeing the light of day sooner than he though.

“Want me to help you sweet thing?” He asked, holding your cheek in his large palm, rubbing against your spit covered skin.

“P-please toji” you begged.

He felt the coil in his stomach tighten, this would not take long, but that was fine, he didn’t know if you would be able to take it for very long anyways.

Toji stood up in front of you, holding the sides of your head in his hands as he spoke, “Gonna fuck your throat okay?” he said, “If it’s too much jus’ tap my thigh n’ i’ll stop” he said, chest heaving before you took his cock back into your mouth.

You gripped your nails into his thighs, rubbing your legs together as you tried to alleviate some of the neediness you were feeling between your thighs.

You started to bob the first couple inches of him in your mouth, hands free; before he spoke. “Gonna move now ‘kay?” Toji waited till he felt you nod before he thrust his hips into your mouth.

You panicked a bit when you felt his cock slide down your throat, gagging around him when he pressed his balls completely to your chin, short hairs on his pelvis tickling your nose.

“Fucking- sh-ittt,” Toji groaned, holding you against him while you gagged and sputtered, “Relax your throat baby, ‘s okay, not gonna hurt ya” he comforted, “Took me so fucking well,” he continued praising.

Warning you before he started thrusting, you dug your nails into his skin, making him groan as he fucked his cock in and out of your wet cavern.

He cooed at you, watching the cat tears roll down your thighs as he mercilessly fucked your mouth. Years of unsatisfactory blowjobs and pent up need was being unleashed on your throat, and you were taking it like a fucking champ. “God, right fucking t-throat feels so good baby, you okay?” he asked, knowing you were in no place to give a proper respose, but he felt the agreement in vibrations around him when you tried to spoke

Making his smirk stretch across his face once more. Spit strings were connecting from your chin and his balls, as he kept up his bruising pace. “fuckfuckfuck,” toji let out a string of curses, “good-fucking-girl” he repeated in between thrusts.

The eye contact you were keeping with him was making him feel drunk, “Keep lookin at my baby, doin so good, keep those pretty eyes on me,” he instructed, biting his lip down at you.

He pulled your head off of his cock right before he came, letting you swallow down air as you let a small coughing fit wrack your lungs, toji pet your hair until the end of it.

“Doin so good,” he praised “I’m about to cum, Is it alright if I go a little harder? Wont take long sweet thing,” he promised.

Your small hand leaving his thigh to rub at your sore throat, strained voice pushing out your consent before he continued.

You used your hand to guide his cock back in your mouth, before dropping it back onto his thigh for stability. He wiped away your tears before he started up again, “You can take it,” he assured.

He curled his fingers into your head, gripping your hair as he brought your head into him to meet his thrusts, heavy balls slapping your chin with his mean thrusts, gagging and groans of approval being heard throughout the room.

Toji didn’t lie when he said this wouldn’t take long, his thrusts were so much rougher than before, more frequent too, leaving you with a shorter window to get air into your lungs between thrusts.

Vision starting to twinkle with spots when his thrusts started becoming erratic and losing their rhythm, “Take it take it fuck” his deep voice groaned, “So fucking close ohmygod“ he looked down at your fluttering eyes, new tears having been spilled over your cheeks at the harshness.

“Gonna swallow it all for me pretty girl? hmm?” The final straw being when you looked up at him, finally making eye contact with your fucked out eyes, “cumming- shit shit sh-“ he groaned long and deep, hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat as you used all the brainpower you had to swallow around him, trying not to pass out from the lack of air.

Roughly pulling your hair back by one of his big hands, the other coming down to stroke his hand quickly over his cock, the last of his seed being pained all over your pretty face.

The black dots in your vision started fading as you gulped air greedily into your lungs, sticking your tongue out instinctly while his hot cum landed in long streaks all over it.

“fuuuuuuuck” toji almost whined, cock still in hand as he flopped back down into the cushions. “think i almost died,” he said softly, chest heaving up and down like he just ran a marathon.

Sweat was beating off his face, face flushed red and eyes lidded as his soul slowly but surely came back into his body, you rested your head against his thigh as he stroked the side of your face.

Toji leaned down, scooping you up under your arms and placing you in his lap, cradling you against his hard chest as the two of you caught your breath, “think i’m addicted to ur mouth,” his voice resonating through his chest vibrating through your body when he spoke.

“Think my mouth is addicted to your cock,” your horse voice retaliated, making him wince in remorse, “fuck” he laughed, “you sound awful, promise i’ll make you some tea for your throat later” he promised, caressing the back of your head.

“later?” you asked, curious as to why he doesn’t go make a cup now as it only take a couple minutes, “gotta eat ur pussy out to show u how much I loved what ya’ did for me first.” he said, like it was obvious. “But i guess if ya’ want I can make you tea first.” he half joked.

You pulled back from his chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back onto the couch cushions with you, his huge frame swallowing yours, “tea can wait.” you smiled.

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visenyaism · 11 months ago

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tyrannical king maegor dashboard simulator

🐉queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived her nephew the King Aenys I Targaryen. Her son King Maegor I Targaryen has returned to the capital to claim his father’s throne.

💫 sevensent Follow

crusty incest king died. FLOP!

💫 sevensent Follow

wait MAEGOR?

🥔 bowlofbrown

this job fucking sucks. finished my shift and i cant even clock out because i got lost underneath the site.

#dark as shit down here #never working construction again

💌 maidens-smile Follow

i literally cannot believe how many supporters of m*egor i see on my dashboard every day when he is literally flaying and torturing so many seven-blessed poor fellows just for practicing their religion and saying incest is bad??? he’s literally outside my city waiting to burn us all to death DNI if you support him

🪨 dragonstoner Follow

🐉 queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived the High Septon. He previously denounced King Maegor and his wives as “the abomination and his whores,” and passed shortly after Dowager Queen Visenya and King Maegor flew their dragons to the gates of Oldtown and threatened to burn the Starry Sept.

🪽 maegors-wins Follow

i for one think “the cruel” is a bit unfair given how he has done so much to uplift women’s voices and free us from religious tyranny like. named the first female heir in westerosi history? improving the infrastructure in king’s landing? decentralizing the power of the faith? he literally loves gay people so much he married three of them?

🦓 zorse-deactivated7849

op what does that eleven inch necromantic targaryen dick feel like because if you keep riding that hard I’m pretty sure it’ll rot off

🔮 tyanna

in seven days you will begin to cough

#twelve. btw

🐉 queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived her great-nephew Aegon Targaryen, henceforth to be known as “The Uncrowned.” Her son King Maegor I Targaryen has slain him and his dragon Quicksilver over the gods’ eye for trying to usurp his throne.

🌞 ullerihardlyknowher Follow

why is this always how i find out how do you know this before even cravings moste popular

#also what the fuck is going on up there

🪰 florian-and-jonquil-on-nymerias-ship Follow

guys the oversexualization of king maegor is so problematic and insane considering he’s not only shy and married as a 13 year old but also is literally neurodivergent (has CTE)

🤲 aegonfort-top

lost my left hand for posting this

#it was kind of hot though

🗣️ towerstower Follow

was not into targaryen rule at all but if we are going to do it it’s kind of fun that we are being ruled by a super powered animated blood corpse and his circle of freaky bisexual witches and also his mommy instead of like. a normie who also fucks his sister

🫀 imasharpknife Follow

seven hells you people would fuck a k*nslayer if they had valyrian silver hair

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

during these trying times when our king is accused of depravity and tyrannies abound throughout the land we must remember the most important truth: the brackens are still a people spawned from the lowest of the seven hells

🐎 brackennation

KILL YOURSELF. Lord Gonzo Tully himself AS YOU KNOW literallyyyyyy gave us the right to move the boundary stones over the tributary. but i wouldn’t expect a blackwood to acknowledge basic laws and rights you’re just too busy doing blood sacrifices to your nasty heathen tree god.

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

as soon as i figure out why balerion is overhead rn im coming over to kill you. btw

🐎 brackennation

wait looks like he’s headed towards harrentown

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

oh cool. KILL YOURSELF

💐 floriansfool36 Follow

hi guys!!! sorry i’m a sennight late posting this, my brother got killed and then one of my other brothers got tortured to death and then my great-aunt died and i ended up having to flee dragonstone for storm’s end and it was kind of scary lol. anyways here’s the update as promised!!!

🌟 maidensgrace Follow

i wish Balerion did get you RPF is literally soooooo problematic. look to your sins op

#daenys the dreamer and nymeria weren’t even alive at the same time????

❤️ lanadelrhaena

i think you did a great job. glad you’re safe xx

💐 floriansfool36 Follow

YOU HAVE INTERNET IN THE KEEP???? HIIIII

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #rhaena’s only public comment during her time in the keep is telling her baby sister she wrote good rpf

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batsandbirdbrains · 1 month ago

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I’ve been reminded that the reverse robins trope exists

The one where Damian has custody of Dick (reverse robins au)

I think it’s even better if most of the world doesn’t realize there are other Gotham vigilantes. Somehow, they’ve all stayed under the radar, but Robin is the one who goes out with Batman once he joins the Justice League. The others aren’t really interested in joining or even meeting them. They’re fine doing their own thing in Gotham & Blüdhaven.

But Bruce wasn’t actually around when Dick became part of the Wayne family. He’d been lost in time or whatever, and it was Damian who was at the circus that night. It was Damian who saw the Graysons fall. It was Damian who rushed to a tiny, frozen little boy who was kneeling in his parents’ blood and wrapped him in his coat, pulling him away and hiding his face in his shoulder.

Alfred thought the circus would maybe help Damian relax after all the pressure from taking over the Batman mantle. Give him something to smile about.

Instead, Damian gets in the car that night with a traumatized little boy, police and ambulance lights flickering from outside, and he looks Alfred dead in the eyes and says, “Congratulations. You’ve turned me into my father. The Commissioner and an agent from Child Protective Services will be stopping by the manor in about two hours.”

Alfred isn’t even all that surprised.

Damian adopts Dick immediately. He doesn’t want Dick to feel like his place in the manor is uncertain, like his place in the family isn’t permanent. He’s one of them now. He’s a Wayne.

Dick even agrees to hyphenate his last name when he sees how much Damian is fighting for him, when he hears him yell at the cops and the CPS people who call him a dirty gypsy and try to convince Damian to throw Dick in juvie, insinuating that Dick probably already stole valuables from the manor.

Nevermind the fact that Dick has barely moved or spoken a word in three weeks following his parents’ deaths.

Aside from sneaking out at night to interrogate criminals on Tony Zucco and what they know about him. But Batman finds him and foils his plans every night, bringing him back to his room at the manor.

It takes Dick less than two weeks to figure out it’s Damian behind the cowl. Damian is actually impressed, and he eventually agrees to train Dick to join the bats.

Tim thinks it’s an awful idea. But Tim and Damian clash with most things, so Damian considers his opinion invalid. Jason just thinks it’s funny that the kid wants his costume to have shorts.

And after a couple months of intense training, Robin is seen on the streets of Gotham beside Batman.

But then Bruce comes back, and he takes over the Batman mantle again, and Damian goes back to being Nightwing. Dick wants to stay Damian’s partner, he doesn’t know Bruce that well, he wants to stay with his Baba. But Bruce insists that he take over training Dick, and that since the public outside of Gotham became aware of Batman and Robin due to a high profile case, that Robin has to stay Batman’s partner.

Damian convinces Dick that it’s alright, because Damian is still going to be his Baba. They’re still going to live together in the penthouse. He doesn’t have to move, he doesn’t have to start calling Bruce dad, “none of the others do, anyway. Besides, you’re still my son. You’re still my Robin.”

So Dick continues going out on patrol with Batman, even if he insists to Damian that, “he’s not my Batman. You’re my Batman.”

Damian only ever lets Dick see how happy that makes him. He has a reputation to keep up, after all.

It’s Damian who agrees to let Dick join the Young Justice team. It’s Damian who gives permission for missions and training.

It’s Damian who uses an override code to enter Mount Justice when Dick is long overdue to be home from “a simple training exercise” that Bruce planned.

It’s Damian who finds his son limp on a stone slab, stuck in a psychic simulation.

It’s Damian who holds Dick’s hands and whispers in his ear that he’s alright, it’s not real, he needs to come back now when Dick is the only one who doesn’t wake up right away once M’gann loses her psychic grip on the simulation.

And when Dick shoots up, brow covered in sweat, breathing so labored that Damian is afraid he’s going to pass right back out, he just continues holding him and whispering to him that it’s alright, everything is alright, Baba’s here now. And Dick clings to him, holding on so tight his knuckles turn white, whispering into Damian’s chest that he thought Damian had died, he thought everyone died. I saw it, I saw them zap you, you were all just gone.

(As a side note, I don’t think this Bruce would want to be called Grandpa. It makes him feel too old. Bruce is supposed to be Jewish, right? Let’s have him go by Saba.)

And Damian is livid. Because how dare his father make his son live through what is essentially his worst nightmare. He snaps his head towards Bruce and seethes, “I told you no psychic simulations.”

“Saba said you agreed.”

The catch in his voice damn near breaks Damian’s heart. But it only serves to make him that much angrier with Bruce.

“You what?” He snaps at Bruce. “You told him I did what?”

“It was perfectly safe,” Bruce tries to reason with him.

“Clearly it was not!” Damian bites back. “I heard what the Martian said, Robin’s mind thought he was dead! Your ridiculous training exercise could have killed him!”

“He was perfectly safe. There was no real danger.”

“Stop,” Damian says, his voice perfectly calm. He tugs Dick close to him, as if letting him go would make him disappear into thin air. “Just stop.”

“Nightwing-“

“This is not the first time you’ve ignored my boundaries for him,” Damian tells him. “He is my son. He was my Robin before he was ever yours. And yet you stomp all over my limits for him time and time again. He is thirteen, he is not a soldier.”

He stands up, still holding Dick close, keeping an arm tight around his shoulders. As they pass by Bruce, Damian tells him in a final hiss, “Batman and Robin are done.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Bruce barks at him.

“And you are being like Ra’s al Ghul,” Damian hisses back, tightening his grip on Dick’s shoulder. “Count yourself lucky I’m not keeping you from your grandson entirely.”

Damian moves to leave, but Dick tugs at his arm and whispers, “Wait, wait Baba, wait,” then he throws himself at Bruce, hugging him tight. Bruce kneels down to hug him back, and maybe he finally realizes how much he fucked up when Dick whispers to him, “I’m glad you’re not really dead.”

But then as quick as he was to hug Bruce, he’s quick to let go and mutter, “Bye, Saba.”

Bruce just runs a hand through Dick’s hair before he can fully pull away, and he says back in a gentle tone, “Bye, Robin. Be good.”

Dick gives him a little smile and wave before attaching himself back to Damian’s side.

Idk I just want Damian being a protective dad and Bruce realizing he was kind of a shitty grandpa.

#dick grayson #young justice #bruce wayne #damian wayne #reverse robins #I’m trying to think how old I want the robins to be in this au #dick is 13 as per usual in season 1 of yj #then I think Damian would be 28. so a 15 year age difference #Tim would be like 26 and Jason would be 22 #so dick is like the babybaby #how old is Bruce? idk he’s Bruce aged #but young enough that the other league members are shocked when they realize Robin was his grandson

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superbat-love · 10 months ago

Text

"Batman-02, requesting access to the Yellow Sun Room," Bruce said.

"Access granted. Welcome, Batman," the robotic voice intoned, and the door slid open.

Bruce stepped into the room, the UV lighting casting a purple glow. His eyes immediately fell on the figure huddled in the corner.

"Clark, how are you feeling?" Bruce asked, deliberately keeping his voice low, careful not to agitate Clark’s heightened senses.

A garbled sound came from the man. Bruce stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment, before realizing that Clark was speaking in Kryptonian. His language processing centers hadn’t recovered yet.

"Everything feels wrong," Clark moaned. "My heartbeat’s like a bad drummer at a rock concert, my nerves are firing off everywhere, my tear ducts won’t stop leaking, and... and I sound like an unhinged Decepticon!"

Bruce sighed softly and set aside the tray he was carrying. Without a word, he stood in front of Clark, arms extended in silent invitation. Clark hesitated only for a moment before pushing himself off the ground, gratefully collapsing into Bruce’s embrace.

Clark was always a mess right after a kryptonite extraction surgery. His body was so focused on healing that it temporarily forgot how to simulate human physiological reactions. Thankfully, the Yellow Sun Room helped regulate his temperature and blocked out the overwhelming sensory input from the outside world.

"Give it time, Clark," Bruce said, his voice steady and calming. "Your body just needs to recalibrate. Try to slow your breathing, and listen to my heartbeat."

Clark nodded weakly and pressed his ear against Bruce's chest, taking a deep breath and attempting to sync his heart rate with Bruce's steady rhythm.

"That’s it," Bruce encouraged. "Let me know if your symptoms get worse, okay? And don’t worry about your voice—you sound like a respectable robot to me."

"Optimus Prime?" Clark asked, looking up hopefully.

"Is that what the robot in Dick’s favorite movie is called?" Bruce said. "The small, yellow one."

Clark frowned. "Bumblebee? But... he couldn’t talk."

"He could," Bruce corrected. "It’s just that no one understood him."

Clark buried his face into Bruce’s shoulder, sobbing harder.

"But I can, and that’s all that matters for now," Bruce quickly reassured him. Clark sniffled, curiously peeking over Bruce's shoulder.

"Something smells good."

"Iron bars and steel pipes, spiced with mini uranium bombs. You need to replenish your vitamins," Bruce said, relieved to see Clark’s mood lightening.

Clark’s eyes lit up. "You got me uranium bombs too?"

Bruce led him to the small dining table. "Yes, and let me tell you, they’re not easy to make."

As they sat down, Bruce stayed close, holding Clark’s hand to help maintain their synced physiological reactions while Clark eagerly scarfed down the food Bruce had prepared.

#superbatweek2024 #xenobio extravaganza #dc headcanon #dc fanfic #drabble #text post #dc #superbat #superman x batman #batman x superman #superman/batman #batman/superman #superman #batman #clark kent #bruce wayne

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dreamersworldduh · 7 months ago

Text

HI, NEIGHBOR — PART 3

• JASON TODD x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — you’re new to the neighborhood and find yourself becoming friends with the residential bad boy, Jason Todd. From his perspective, you seem like an outgoing guy yet there’s a mystery to you he couldn’t quite figure out.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Violence.

WORDS! 11.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! here we are with part three finally, I know I was supposed to post this days ago but reality interrupted my dreams and I had handle a few things, but as you can see we are locked and loaded. Also 11k words is insane, but it was getting so good—I had to finish!

I hope you enjoy! 😉

NEXT PART! FOUR

PREVIOUS PART! TWO.

In the months following your arrival at Wayne Manor, you slowly adjusted to life within its towering, stone-carved walls. The sprawling estate, with its endless corridors, grand halls, and hidden passageways, transformed from an intimidating labyrinth into something almost familiar—though it never quite lost its imposing presence. You had little choice in the matter; agreeing to let the Bat Family handle the looming threat of the League of Assassins meant surrendering your personal freedom in ways you hadn't anticipated. The arrangement came with a steep, unspoken cost: confinement.

Bruce, ever the calculating strategist and overprotective guardian, made it clear from day one that venturing outside the Manor was not an option. "Too dangerous," he had said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He cited countless reasons: the League's relentless pursuit, Gotham's ever-growing list of threats, and his unyielding need to protect those under his roof. It didn't matter how many times you reminded him—and the rest of the family—that you weren't some defenseless bystander. You'd survived the League's brutal training. You'd fought your way through far worse than Gotham's criminals. You were capable, competent, and deadly—but none of that mattered to Bruce. He couldn't risk losing another person he cared about.

So, despite the suffocating restrictions, you adapted. You weren't the type to waste energy on complaints, especially when there were...perks. Life at Wayne Manor came with its comforts—luxuries you never expected but quickly came to appreciate. Alfred Pennyworth, ever the consummate butler and caretaker, could whip up anything you requested with unparalleled skill. His meals were nothing short of culinary masterpieces, turning even the most routine days into something special. But it wasn't just the food—Alfred himself was a grounding presence, his dry wit and subtle warmth offering rare moments of peace in an otherwise tense environment.

Then there was the Batcave. Its state-of-the-art training facilities became both sanctuary and battleground. You poured hours into training, pushing yourself to exhaustion against holographic enemies and weighted combat simulations. You sharpened your skills with unwavering focus, testing weapon prototypes—some Bruce didn't even know existed. The cave's cold, metallic stillness was familiar, almost comforting. Every punch, every kick, every precise movement was a reclaiming of control, a defiant stand against the helplessness confinement tried to impose.

As the weeks turned into months, bonds you hadn't expected began to form. Dick, ever the optimist with his easy smile and magnetic charm, quickly became someone you trusted. His laughter seemed to chase away the Manor's heavy shadows, making even the darkest days lighter. Then there was Tim, sharp-eyed and brilliant, whose love of strategy and detective work mirrored your own. Together, you dissected Gotham's criminal networks like players in a high-stakes game of chess, often losing track of time in the process.

Even Damian, the guarded and sharp-tongued youngest member of the family, began to thaw. He still acted like the world's most stubborn brat, but there was something like respect in his gaze when he watched you train—perhaps recognizing a fellow survivor shaped by the League's harsh hand. The two of you shared an unspoken understanding built on shared experience, though neither of you would ever admit it aloud.

But the deepest—and most unexpected—connection you forged was with Jason.

Jason, with his jagged edges and bruised soul, had always been something of a wild card. Reckless, passionate, and fiercely loyal, he seemed to understand the feeling of being trapped better than anyone. He never pitied you for your situation—he just got it. He made being stuck at Wayne Manor tolerable, even fun at times. The two of you easily fell back into your old rhythm: late-night movie marathons sprawled across the Manor's oversized couches, sharp-witted banter flying between you like familiar, well-worn armor.

But things were...different now. The kiss you had shared—unexpected, intense, real—had shifted something fundamental between you. It wasn't just a passing moment or a mistake born out of loneliness. It lingered in every shared glance, every casual touch that lasted a second too long. Conversations turned softer in the quiet hours of the night, the edges of your banter giving way to something deeper, more intimate.

Jason's eyes lingered when he thought you weren't paying attention, a quiet intensity burning beneath that tough exterior he wore like a shield. His hand would brush yours, and neither of you would pull away. The space between you felt charged, an invisible line crossed long ago that neither of you wanted to retreat from. You both danced around the unspoken truth, hesitant but unwilling to let go of whatever fragile, uncertain thing was forming between you.

Wayne Manor might have felt like a gilded cage at times, its stone walls a constant reminder of your captivity—but being with Jason made it feel like something else entirely. He made it feel safe. He made it feel like home.

The quiet hum of advanced technology reverberated through the cavernous expanse of the BatCave, blending seamlessly with the steady rhythm of your fists slamming into the reinforced punching bag suspended from thick, heavy chains. Each precise strike sent deep, resounding thuds echoing across the cold stone walls, reverberating through the dimly lit space like distant thunder. The soft glow from the Batcomputer's towering display monitors flickered faintly in the background, illuminating rows of specialized gear and weapon racks arranged with military precision.

Beads of sweat rolled down your temple, dripping onto the steel platform beneath your feet. You inhaled deeply, letting the chilled, mineral-scented air cool your burning lungs. The BatCave's icy stillness grounded you, stripping away everything except the focus of combat—the rhythm, the movement, the power radiating from deep within your core.

Your knuckles connected with the bag again and again, each punch sharper, faster, and harder than the last. The faint pulse of Chi energy thrummed beneath your skin, a persistent force you had long since learned to harness. It surged with every strike, burning like a fire that couldn't be extinguished—only controlled.

Fighting was your language, your anchor, your defiance. The League of Assassins' brutal training still lived within your muscles, etched into your very bones. You hated that, but it was yours now—something reclaimed, reshaped into a weapon on your terms.

You pivoted sharply, throwing a vicious spinning back-kick that cracked against the heavy bag with a satisfying boom, sending it swinging wildly on its reinforced chains. The satisfying ache in your leg reminded you that you were still in control—that you were still fighting.

Then— "Your balance is off."

The cold, clipped voice cut through the stillness like the edge of a blade.

You whirled on instinct, already dropping into a defensive stance—ready to strike. But you stopped short when you saw him.

Damian stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his intense green eyes gleaming in the dim, flickering light. His posture was impossibly straight, his expression sharp and unreadable—a perfect image of practiced discipline and quiet authority far beyond his years. His green cape draped neatly over one shoulder, its hem just barely brushing the cave floor like a royal mantle.

Despite your heightened senses, you hadn't heard his approach—not a single footfall, not even a whisper of movement. He was that good.

You exhaled slowly, tension still coiling in your muscles. "You always sneak up on people, or is it just me?"

His mouth twitched—just slightly. Not quite a smirk, but close. "Consider it a compliment," he replied coolly. "Most wouldn't have even noticed me."

You snorted softly, grabbing a towel from the nearby bench and wiping the sweat from your face. "So, what do you want, Wayne? Here to critique my footwork again?"

Damian took a measured step forward, boots clicking faintly against the cold steel. His eyes remained locked on yours—sharp, calculating, serious.

"I came to talk."

You blinked, thrown by his directness. Damian Wayne... wanting to talk? That was a first.

Still, something about his tone was different—less sharp, more... resolute. Whatever this was, it wasn't just a passing observation about your training.

You tossed the towel aside, folding your arms. "Talk about what?"

Damian tilted his head slightly, studying you like a chess piece he was considering moving. For a moment, he said nothing—his sharp mind clearly weighing his words before finally speaking.

"About the League... and what comes after." His voice was quiet—but heavy with meaning.

Your breath hitched despite yourself, though you kept your expression neutral. The League. They were always there—lingering at the edges of your mind, a shadow you could never quite escape.

"What about it?" you asked cautiously.

His gaze didn't waver. "You know what it means to be made by them... to be shaped by their rules." His voice was steady, but edged with something deeper—something personal. "They make you believe that's all you'll ever be." His expression hardened. "That you'll never be anything else."

Your jaw clenched, memories surfacing like jagged glass cutting through old wounds. You stayed silent, letting him speak.

Damian's sharp features remained set, but something... raw flickered in his eyes—something unmistakably human.

"I believed that," he admitted quietly. "For a long time." His voice dropped, almost distant—as though speaking more to himself than to you.

"I thought being part of the League... was my purpose. That their rules, their code, were all that mattered." His lips pressed into a thin line, bitterness seeping into his tone. "Until I came here."

Your brow furrowed, caught off guard by the quiet intensity in his voice. Damian never talked about himself—especially not about this.

He took a slow, measured breath, meeting your gaze with quiet determination. "Being Robin... changed that."

His voice steadied, gaining strength. "My father taught me that being a weapon isn't the same as being a person. That I could choose who I wanted to be—not what the League made me."

His emerald-green eyes burned with conviction, even as something darker lingered beneath the surface. "But it wasn't easy."

You remained silent, listening intently despite yourself.

Damian took another deliberate step forward, his voice steady but low. "I still fight. I still kill, when I have to." His gaze hardened. "That part of me doesn't just... disappear. It's always there. But it doesn't control me anymore."

He held your gaze, fierce yet... understanding. "Neither does it have to control you."

The words hit you like a blow, raw and unyielding. For a long moment, you couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. His admission struck something deep, something you had buried long ago.

"You think..." your voice wavered, rough with emotion. "You think it's that simple?"

Damian's expression softened—but just barely. "No," he said firmly. "But it's possible."

The stillness between you stretched—charged not with hostility, but... understanding. For the first time, Damian wasn't speaking as Robin, or Bruce Wayne's son, or even a former assassin.

He was speaking as someone who understood.

You exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from your shoulders.

"I'm... not like you," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can change."

Damian's lips twitched—almost a knowing smirk, but softer. "Neither did I."

Silence fell between you once more—weighted, but... not uncomfortable.

Finally, Damian straightened and stepped back toward the shadows of the BatCave, his cape trailing behind him like a phantom.

"Just... think about it." His voice was calm, steady—but held an edge of quiet sincerity.

Without another word, he vanished into the dark, leaving you alone with your thoughts... and the faint, lingering echo of his words.

"It doesn't control me... and it doesn't have to control you."

For the first time in a long time... you wondered if that could actually be true.

The soft flicker of the TV cast shifting shadows across your dimly lit room in Wayne Manor. The familiar hum of an old action movie played quietly, its over-the-top explosions and cheesy one-liners filling the comfortable silence between you and Jason Todd as you lounged on the large, worn couch pushed against the far wall.

The room was simple but cozy, far more welcoming than any place you'd ever stayed before. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books, training manuals, and a few small mementos you'd picked up since moving in. A faint breeze drifted in from the half-open window, carrying the cool scent of the manor's sprawling gardens.

Jason sat next to you, legs stretched out comfortably, his leather jacket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch. He wore a simple hoodie and dark jeans, his signature sharp, rugged features softened slightly in the dim, warm light. His sharp blue eyes stayed fixed on the screen—but you could tell he wasn't paying much attention.

Neither were you.

You leaned back into the cushions, one arm draped over the back of the couch, fingers resting just barely close enough to graze Jason's shoulder. He sat just close enough that his warmth pressed against your side—not quite touching, but close enough.

The comfortable silence between you lingered for a while, both of you absorbed in your thoughts more than the film.

Finally, you exhaled slowly, breaking the stillness. "...I talked to Damian today."

Jason arched an eyebrow but didn't look away from the TV. "You? Talking to Damian?" he teased, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Did the world end or something?"

You rolled your eyes. "He wasn't that bad... this time."

Jason chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. "What'd he want? Lecture you about footwork again?"

You shook your head, your expression growing more thoughtful. "...He talked about the League. About how... being Robin changed him."

That got Jason's attention. His teasing smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more attentive. He sat up slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he watched you carefully. "Really?"

You nodded slowly, running a hand through your hair. "He said... he used to think he couldn't change. That being part of the League was... all he'd ever be." You hesitated, your voice dropping lower. "...He said being Robin showed him that... it didn't have to be."

Jason's blue eyes softened—not with pity, but with something far deeper... understanding.

"And what did you think about that?" he asked quietly, his voice steady but gentle.

You shrugged, though your expression stayed thoughtful. "I don't know... it's hard to believe." Your gaze dropped slightly. "I've been running from what the League made me for so long.... I don't know if I can ever be anything else."

Jason studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable—but his eyes burned with something fierce and protective.

"You can," he said firmly, his voice rough but sincere. "You already are."

You met his gaze, startled by the conviction in his voice.

Jason leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "You're not like them. You left. You fought back." His expression softened just slightly, the intensity in his voice easing into something warmer. "You've got nothing to prove to anyone—especially not them."

His words hit deeper than you expected, settling somewhere deep in your chest. You could tell he meant it, every word.

Still, you couldn't resist adding, "You sound like Bruce."

Jason's lips twitched into a faint, crooked smirk. "Don't push it," he shot back.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence again—but there was something different about it now, something warmer, charged with something unspoken.

After a long pause, Jason spoke again, voice low but... hopeful.

"You know... you could... be one of us."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Jason shrugged, his expression thoughtful but sincere. "You're already here. You've been training in the BatCave, fighting alongside us... hell, you've saved my life more than once." His sharp blue eyes gleamed with quiet certainty. "You belong here... whether you believe it or not."

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. "Me? Part of the Bat-family? You're insane."

Jason smirked faintly but didn't back down. "It's not as crazy as you think."

You stared at him for a moment longer, still processing—but there was no mockery in his voice... just earnest belief.

The warmth in your chest grew—unexpected, overwhelming.

The movie on the TV played on, forgotten. The flickering glow of the screen danced across Jason's face, highlighting the faint scars tracing his jaw, the steady intensity in his piercing gaze.

You realized... you were staring.

But Jason... was staring too.

The air shifted between you, charged, as the familiar walls you'd built around yourself slowly... fell.

Jason's breath hitched slightly, his sharp features softening as his gaze dropped just briefly to your lips—hesitant, waiting.

You leaned in—just barely—testing the distance between you.

Jason didn't move... but his eyes darkened, something unspoken burning in their depths. His hand brushed yours, tentative... gentle.

You closed the small distance between you—finally.

The kiss was slow at first—steady, like neither of you wanted to break the fragile, perfect stillness of the moment.

Jason's breath shuddered against yours before he deepened the kiss, pulling you in closer, his hand resting lightly on your jaw, fingers brushing your neck in a way that left fire in their wake.

Your heart pounded against your chest, steady and certain, chasing away every lingering shadow.

Soon Jason's hands move to your sides, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of your shirt with slow, deliberate intensity. His touch was warm, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine that you couldn't suppress.

The kiss between you deepened, turning from tentative to desperate, fueled by weeks of lingering glances, quiet moments, and feelings left unsaid. His breath hitched when you threaded your fingers through his thick, dark hair, tugging gently—just enough to draw a low, rough sound from deep in his chest.

Jason pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his sharp blue eyes locking onto yours with fierce, burning intensity. His pupils were blown wide, and you could feel the tension radiating off him—wanting, waiting, but still holding himself back, as though afraid you might change your mind.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Before you could think, his strong hands found your waist, gripping firmly—not rough, but secure. His gaze flicked to your lips for just a heartbeat before he moved, effortlessly pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion.

A soft gasp escaped you as your knees hit the mattress on either side of his thighs, straddling him as his hands settled firmly at your waist, holding you in place like he needed you there—like letting go wasn't even an option.

"Jason..." you breathed, barely able to get the word out before his lips claimed yours again, fierce and demanding. His fingers pressed into your hips, anchoring you closer, as though afraid you'd vanish if he let go.

You melted against him, your hands bracing against his broad shoulders before sliding down to rest against his chest. His heartbeat pounded fast, strong, echoing the frantic rhythm of your own as the kiss deepened—hot, urgent, and hungry.

His lips moved against yours with a fire you hadn't expected—like he'd been starving for this, for you, for far longer than he'd ever let on. His fingers tightened their grip just enough to make you feel it, keeping you anchored firmly against him.

Your breath hitched when he broke the kiss, trailing slow, heated kisses down the line of your jaw, leaving a burning path in his wake. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath your ear, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips as your hands tightened against the hard planes of his chest.

Jason smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction—but there was nothing cocky about the way his breath stuttered when you rolled your hips just barely against his. His grip tightened, a low, rough sound escaping him that you felt more than heard.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, his voice rough, low, and wrecked as his forehead rested against yours.

"Good," you whispered, voice breathless but teasing, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips.

Jason's answering grin was dangerous, laced with heat and something far more intense—something real. His hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer until there was nothing but fire between you.

Your fingers moved almost instinctively, skimming over his broad shoulders and trailing down his chest, feeling the faint tremor beneath your fingertips. His body was solid, built from years of combat and survival—scarred, strong, and completely real.

Without thinking, your hands slipped beneath the worn fabric of his hoodie, fingertips grazing over the taut, heated skin of his abdomen. The breath he sucked in at the contact was sharp, his muscles tightening instinctively under your touch.

Jason pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression unreadable for a fleeting moment—intense, unguarded, as though you'd caught him off guard in a way no one ever had before. His breath hitched, lips still slightly parted as he stared at you with something dangerously close to vulnerability.

Slowly, Jason tugged the hem of his hoodie and shirt upward in one smooth motion, pulling both over his head and tossing them carelessly to the floor.

Your breath caught.

His chest and shoulders were a patchwork of old scars—deep, jagged, and unforgiving, crisscrossing across his toned skin like the remnants of countless battles fought long before you'd ever met him. Each mark told a silent, brutal story written in flesh—survival, pain, resilience.

Jason's expression shifted—not defensive, not ashamed—but... uncertain. Like he was waiting for something—rejection, disgust... anything.

But you didn't look away.

You let your gaze trace every faded scar, every rough edge, your fingers moving slowly, reverently, as though trying to memorize all of him.

Gently, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly against a long, faint scar that curved just below his collarbone—a wound that looked like it might've been fatal once. His breath hitched, muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn't pull away.

You kissed the scar again—slower this time, lingering—before trailing your lips lower, tracing the rough line of an old slash across his ribs. His hands flexed against your waist, tightening their grip as though holding himself together.

Your fingers followed the faint, faded scar running just beneath his right pectoral, brushing over it with deliberate care before pressing another gentle, lingering kiss there. Jason's breath shuddered, his head tilting back just slightly, lips parting with something between a gasp and a low, desperate exhale.

"You don't have to—" he started, his voice rough, strained—but you silenced him with another slow, reverent kiss along the edge of a ragged scar near his shoulder.

"I want to," you whispered against his skin, your voice steady but soft—earnest.

Jason let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to cradle your face gently, thumbs brushing over your jaw with surprising tenderness. His expression was... raw, stripped of every wall he'd ever built, laid bare in a way that felt too much, too intense—but he let you see it.

You pressed another soft, lingering kiss against a scar just over his heart, feeling its steady, strong rhythm beneath your lips. His hands trembled—just barely.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting himself feel it—really feel it—like no one had ever touched him like that before.

"You're... unbelievable," Jason whispered, his voice wrecked, almost disbelieving, like he couldn't comprehend what you were doing... or why it felt like it mattered so much.

You met his gaze again—steady, grounded—and saw something breaking in his expression... something open and real.

"You're not just your scars," you whispered, voice low but fierce. "You're more. You've always been more."

Jason inhaled sharply as his hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing over your heated skin with deliberate care. His touch sent shivers up your spine, making your breath hitch as his fingers slowly tugged your shirt upward, exposing more of your torso inch by inch.

His gaze never left yours—intense, focused, hungry—watching for any sign of hesitation... but there was none. You wanted this—needed this—and he could see it in your eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, Jason stripped your shirt off in one smooth motion and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His strong hands immediately returned to your waist, gripping firmly, grounding you as though anchoring himself just as much as he was anchoring you.

Before you could even catch your breath, Jason gently pushed you back against the soft cushions, guiding you down with a quiet, silent command that sent a thrill down your spine. His weight settled comfortably over you, strong and solid, radiating warmth that made your heart race in your chest.

His gaze flicked over your bare skin, dark and possessive but still tender, like he was memorizing every inch of you—every scar, every line, every breath.

"You're so—" Jason started, his voice rough, wrecked—but whatever he was going to say got lost as he moved.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck—soft at first, almost reverent, tasting your skin with slow, measured intensity. You exhaled sharply, your hands instinctively threading into his thick, dark hair, tugging gently—not to push him away, but to pull him closer.

Jason groaned softly against your neck at the sensation, his fingers tightening on your waist with just enough pressure to make you feel it. His mouth returned to your throat, his breath hot and ragged as he trailed slow, lingering kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck.

And then... he bit down—just hard enough to leave a sharp, stinging sensation that melted into something deeper, more intense. A gasp escaped your lips as Jason followed the bite with a slow, soothing kiss, his tongue flicking lightly over the spot.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice breathless, shaky—but filled with need.

He smirked against your neck, clearly pleased by your reaction—but there was nothing cocky about the way his breath shuddered, his hands trembling just barely as they roamed up your sides, exploring every inch of your bare skin.

Jason's lips returned to your neck with renewed purpose, his kisses growing more intense—hot, wet, and deliberate—as though he was claiming you with every kiss, every bite, every mark.

He sucked gently at the base of your neck, his teeth grazing sensitive skin before biting down again, harder this time—leaving his mark. A sharp, helpless whimper escaped your lips as your body arched beneath him, pulling him closer, deeper.

Jason groaned, low and rough, his voice thick with need as he kissed the freshly made bruise—possessive, protective, yours.

"Mine," he rasped against your skin—unspoken, undeniable, raw.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him up just enough to crash your lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss. Jason kissed you back just as fiercely, his hands sliding up to cup your face with surprising tenderness even as his lips moved against yours with absolute intensity.

Before you knew he changed your positions. He hovered over you, his strong hands resting firmly on your waist, grounding you, anchoring you. His body radiated heat, and his touch burned where his fingers grazed your skin, leaving fire in their wake.

You could still feel the faint, lingering sting from the marks he'd left along your neck—his marks—possessive and unapologetic, like he wanted the world to know exactly who you belonged to.

But now... it was your turn.

Your breath hitched as you slowly dragged your hands down the hard planes of Jason's chest, tracing each scar, each line, savoring the way his breath stuttered beneath your fingertips. His muscles tensed with anticipation, every inch of him coiled like a spring just waiting to snap.

His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide with want as you let your hands drift lower, trailing down his stomach, feeling every ridge of muscle beneath your fingertips until you reached the waistband of his dark jeans.

Jason's breath shuddered audibly when your fingers brushed over the rough fabric of his belt, lingering just long enough to make his jaw clench. His fingers tightened on your waist, his grip firm, as though holding himself back.

You could feel the tension thrumming in his body—barely contained, ready to break. His blue eyes burned into yours, hungry and wanting, but still... waiting.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers found the button of his jeans. You toyed with it slowly, deliberately, watching the way his breath hitched, his entire body going still—tense—as though his entire world balanced on that single moment.

But before you went any further... you paused.

Your hands stilled, resting gently against his waistband as you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breath coming in uneven, your voice quiet but steady.

"...Is this okay?" you whispered, earnest, serious—vulnerable.

Jason's inhale was the only sound in the room. His eyes softened—just barely—but enough for you to see something deeper flicker behind them—something raw and real.

He exhaled slowly, his grip on your waist easing into something gentler—still firm, still grounding, but filled with quiet reassurance.

"Yeah..." Jason rasped, his voice wrecked, thick with emotion and need, but steady—certain.

His gaze held yours, steady and intense, as his hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your skin with reverence.

"You can—" He stopped himself, breathing out a shaky laugh, his expression softening with something almost... tender. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper.

"I want this... I want you."

His thumb brushed gently along your hip, grounding you as his intense gaze burned with trust and longing. "But only if you want it too."

Your chest tightened—not with fear, but with certainty, with need, with something far deeper than desire. You leaned forward, your hands resting firmly on his chest, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

"I do," you whispered, voice fierce but soft, trembling but sincere. "I want you... Jason."

You unbuttoned his jeans with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his sharp intake of breath shattered the tense silence. The click of the button sounded almost deafening in the stillness of the room, followed by the soft whisper of the zipper being drawn down.

Jason's jaw tightened, a faint tremor running through his body as your fingers brushed over the exposed waistband of his briefs, the warmth of his skin searing beneath your fingertips.

His breath shuddered when you let your fingers trail lower, brushing lightly against the hard outline of his swollen length, already straining against the confines of his jeans. The sharp, ragged gasp he let out was wrecked, his head tilting back just slightly, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat.

"F—" Jason bit off the curse, his voice rough and hoarse, like he was fighting to hold himself together.

Your fingers moved again, slow but intentional, feeling the heat radiating from him as you pressed just lightly against his hardness through the thin fabric. His hips jerked involuntarily, a strangled, needy sound escaping his parted lips.

His hands tightened on your waist, trembling just barely, as though he was using every ounce of control to keep himself from pulling you closer, from taking more than you were offering.

His gaze snapped back to yours, intense, desperate, and pleading without a single word spoken.

You could see it all in his eyes—need, want, trust... and love. He was bare, stripped of every wall he'd ever built around himself, laid open only for you.

"... Are you sure this is okay?" you whispered, voice steady but soft, your hand resting just barely against him—asking, not demanding.

Jason's breath hitched again, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at you with something deep and unspoken.

"Yes..." he rasped, his voice trembling but firm. "God... yes."

His fingers loosened on your waist just slightly, his touch shifting from a firm grip to a gentle caress, grounding you even as his entire body shook with restrained need.

The sound Jason made was low, raw, and devastating, like something had broken inside him—but in the best way. His hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your bare skin with reverence, as if memorizing every inch of you.

Before he suddenly realized something as he looked back to see the slightly ajar door at the far end of the room, the faint hallway light spilling through like an unwelcome reminder of the reality beyond these four walls.

For a moment, Jason's expression shifted, his sharp features tightening with thought, instinct kicking in like it always did after years of surviving in the shadows. He was always aware of his surroundings—always watching, always calculating.

But this wasn't just anywhere. This was Wayne Manor. A place where privacy was a luxury, where anyone could walk by... or walk in.

His fingers lingered just barely against your bare skin, resting at your waist as he hesitated, clearly debating... thinking.

You could see the thought cross his mind—the realization—as his eyes flicked toward the door again before he exhaled sharply, muttering a quiet, "Damn it..." as he reluctantly pulled away, the loss of his warmth making your skin ache in its absence.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed with practiced ease, muscles still tense from more than just desire, his sharp gaze cutting back to you for just a heartbeat—checking, making sure you were still there, still his.

Without another word, Jason rose to his feet, his powerful frame moving with that same effortless grace he always carried, like he was born to be in motion. The faint creak of the floor beneath his boots was the only sound as he strode toward the door, his shoulders still slightly tense, as if expecting someone to appear on the other side.

He reached the door in two long strides and paused, his hand resting on the cold brass handle. His sharp eyes darted down the hallway one last time—searching, scanning, checking—before he quietly clicked the lock into place with a soft, resolute snap.

The sound seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, final and certain.

Jason lingered there for a moment longer, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, steadying breath, his fingers still resting against the locked door as if needing a moment to reassure himself—that this was safe, that you were safe.

Finally, he turned back toward you, his blue eyes locking onto yours—soft, focused, but still burning with that same fierce longing that never seemed to fade.

He crossed the room again with purpose, every movement deliberate but unhurried, his lips quirking into a faint, half-smile—almost teasing, almost smug—but there was something deeper behind it... relief. Need. Want.

Jason's voice was low, rough, but soft as he came to a stop at the edge of the bed, his hands resting firmly on the mattress on either side of you, caging you in once more.

"No interruptions," he replied, his voice thick with promise, his intense gaze flicking to the locked door before settling back on you—focused, possessive, and certain.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his bare skin flushed from both exertion and anticipation. His hands hovered at the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans, his fingers twitching slightly as if weighing the moment—letting it sink in, letting you see him—all of him.

He was always in control, always ready, alert, prepared—but this was different. You made him feel different—unraveled, open, seen.

Jason swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he held your gaze—his expression flickering between desire and vulnerability, like he was offering something he didn't know he could.

Slowly—deliberately—Jason hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, his breath hitching slightly as he eased them down over his hips, inch by inch. The sound of denim sliding against his skin seemed deafening in the quiet, intimate space, leaving him standing there in just his dark briefs, his body tense, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath.

His intense gaze never left yours, watching every flicker of emotion across your face—searching, waiting, hoping—until he saw nothing but want reflected back at him.

With slow, measured movements, Jason's fingers grazed the waistband of his briefs, hesitating for just a heartbeat. The faint tremor in his hands was barely noticeable, but you felt it, saw the way his breath shuddered as he finally pushed the fabric down over his hips.

His briefs dropped to the floor, forgotten, leaving him fully exposed—unprotected—in a way that seemed more vulnerable than any wound he'd ever taken in battle.

Jason's chest heaved as he stood there, still, watching, his gaze fixed on yours—not with fear, but with trust, need, and hope—like he was waiting for your reaction, waiting for you to make the next move.

But there was no hesitation, no doubt in your eyes as you slowly rose up on your knees, closing the distance between you. Your hands reached out gently, fingers brushing against his waist, anchoring him, making him feel.

You could feel his body quake with restraint, his broad shoulders tight, like he was fighting against every instinct to take... have... claim. His need for control was practically etched into every line of his body—but right now, that control was hanging on by a thread.

Your hands slid slowly up his torso, savoring the way his breath hitched at every lingering touch across his toned stomach, every scarred ridge of muscle. His skin was warm, real, alive—a living map of battles fought and survived.

Jason's breath shuddered when your fingers drifted lower, tracing the lines of his hips, your touch deliberate and slow—teasing, exploring. His blue eyes never left yours, flickering with want, need, and something deeper... vulnerable trust.

"You're killing me..." he whispered, trembling with desire as his fingers tightened on your waist, digging just enough to make you feel how much he was holding back.

But you didn't stop—you couldn't. You wanted to see him fall apart, to watch Jason Todd—always in control, always ready—come undone because of you.

Your fingers grazed lower, dipping beneath the edge of his waistband, tracing the trail of muscle that disappeared beneath his skin. His hips jerked involuntarily at the touch, and a low, rough sound escaped his lips—a growl, raw, desperate, and completely unrestrained.

Jason's head tipped back for a brief second, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat as he sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

He bit back a curse, his body practically vibrating beneath your touch. His grip on your waist tightened, trembling just enough to show how much control he was losing.

You moved your hand lower—slow, intentional, watching every flicker of desperation and longing in his expression until your fingers finally brushed against his swollen ten inch dick.

Jason let out a broken, ragged groan, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily into your touch as though he couldn't help chasing the sensation. His intense blue eyes snapped open, darker now, completely consumed by you.

"Sh—" Jason exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you wrapped your fingers around his dick, feeling the heat, the hardness, and the faint tremor that ran through his entire body at the contact.

His reaction was instant—his hips jerked again, pushing into your hand with a barely restrained desperation, as though he was already too far gone to care about holding back.

His forehead fell against yours, his breath hot and uneven, every exhale spilling over your lips as he tried—and failed—to regain control.

"Shit..." he hissed, his voice rough with barely restrained need.

But you weren't done—not even close.

With deliberate slowness, you leaned in and pressed your lips to the hard plane of his chest, tasting the faint salt of his skin, still warm and flushed from your earlier touches. His breath shuddered again, his broad hands trembling as they gripped the bedsheets beneath him, like he needed something to ground himself.

Jason's sharp intake of breath turned into a low groan when your lips trailed lower, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down the center of his chest, following the faint line of an old scar that cut across his ribs. You traced the rough edge of the mark with your tongue, feeling the faint twitch of muscle beneath your touch as his hips jerked again, entirely helpless under your intentional exploration.

"Fuck.." he hissed, a needy sound tearing from his throat. His intense gaze dropped down to watch you, his pupils blown wide as if the sight alone was enough to drive him wild.

Your lips lingered just beneath his sternum, leaving another slow, lingering kiss against the sensitive skin there, savoring the way his entire body tensed beneath you. His breathing came in uneven, shallow bursts, his fists still clenching the sheets like he was using every ounce of control to keep from pulling you closer.

You let your free hand slide up, tracing a slow, teasing path down the line of his hip, feeling the way his body reacted—shaking, tightening, desperate. Every tremor, every ragged breath, every shuddering gasp only fueled your need to push him further.

"You're driving me insane..." Jason groaned as he bucked into your hand again, chasing more of your touch like he couldn't help himself.

"Good," you whispered against his skin, teasingly—but filled with want just as much as power.

You kissed lower, your mouth following the faint trail leading down his abdomen, feeling the sharp, defined lines of his stomach tighten beneath your tongue. His breath stuttered, chest heaving, his hands twitching as though aching to grab you—to anchor himself—but he didn't.

Jason was letting you lead... completely surrendered in a way you knew he never allowed himself to be.

You pressed another slow, deliberate kiss just above his waistband, feeling the way his entire body shook beneath you—needy, wanting, and bare in a way that made your chest tighten.

"Damn..." Jason moaned.

You could feel the faint tremor in his legs as you slowly trailed your hands along his thighs, feeling the way his breath hitched at even the lightest touch. His body was tight, coiled with tension—a mix of expectation and need that left him visibly shaking beneath your fingertips.

"You're killing me..." Jason whispered as his head tilted back against the pillows, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat as he struggled to breathe through the electric tension crackling between you.

His entire body shuddered when your hand wrapped around his swollen dick, feeling the heat, hardness, and the faint twitch of anticipation beneath your fingertips. His hips jerked involuntarily, chasing your touch like he couldn't help himself, a needy groan escaping his parted lips.

"F—..." he hissed, biting back a curse. His sharp blue eyes snapped back to yours, pleading, searching, as though waiting for you to end the torment.

But you weren't done teasing—not yet.

With deliberate slowness, you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over his dick, watching the way his entire body tensed, his fists clenching the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Jason's hips buckled just slightly when your lips brushed his sensitive skin, pressing the faintest, teasing kiss along his dick—just enough to leave him gasping for breath.

"Mhm..." he groaned, desperate, his voice breaking on the word.

His hands twitched, aching to touch you, to ground himself—but he held back, barely, like he didn't want to break the moment.

You met his desperate gaze, seeing the way everything burned behind his blue eyes—longing, trust, love. He was open in a way he never allowed himself to be, his control stripped away, leaving only you.

With slow, deliberate precision, you let your tongue trace a slow, lingering line from the base of his length to the tip, savoring the salty heat of his skin as Jason shuddered violently, his head falling back with a sharp, wrecked moan.

His breath hitched again, chest heaving, every muscle in his powerful body tightening beneath your touch as you explored him, tasting every inch of his sensitive skin with slow, intentional movements.

Jason's hips jerked, chasing your touch despite his best efforts to stay still, his hands fisting the sheets with helpless need. Every shaky breath, every low, desperate groan spilling from his lips only fueled your determination to push him further.

"Fuck..." he hissed through clenched teeth.

You pressed another slow, open-mouthed kiss along his shaft, feeling the way he throbbed beneath your tongue, completely lost in the sensation.

Jason's voice broke again as he gasped, his hips lifting instinctively, chasing more, his eyes blazing with plea and passion as he watched you through heavy-lidded, desperate eyes.

His trembling voice barely managed a ragged, "Please... don't stop..." as his hands fisted tighter, his entire body shaking with how badly he needed you.

Every inch of him was laid bare, exposed not just in body, but in soul, stripped of every defense he'd ever built. He wasn't Red Hood now—he wasn't the fighter or the survivor—he was Jason, your Jason, open and vulnerable in a way he'd never been with anyone else.

His hands gripped the sheets tightly, fingers twitching with barely restrained control as he watched you, chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight as though holding himself together was the only thing keeping him grounded.

But you weren't about to let him hold back—not tonight.

With deliberate slowness, you let your lips brush softly against the sensitive skin along his length, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss at the base. Jason's breath shattered, a harsh, desperate groan ripping from his throat as his hips jerked involuntarily at the sudden warmth of your mouth on him.

"F—" he hissed sharply, his head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the strong line of his throat as his entire body tensed, muscles rippling beneath scarred skin. His eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving, as though trying to process the sudden rush of pleasure that overtook him.

You didn't let up—you couldn't. You needed to see him unravel, to watch Jason Todd—always in control, always ready for the next fight—come undone because of you.

Slowly, you flattened your tongue and traced a slow, deliberate path along his length, savoring the faint taste of salted skin, warm and alive beneath your lips. His hips jerked again, a low, wrecked sound tearing from deep in his chest as his fingers fisted the sheets tighter, clinging to them like his life depended on it.

"God—" Jason gasped.

His body was shaking beneath you, torn between holding still and chasing more, helpless under the heat of your mouth. His breath hitched sharply when you slowly took him in deeper, letting your lips stretch around his length while your tongue teased every sensitive inch.

Jason's reaction was instant—his hips jerked again despite his best efforts, a deep, wrecked groan ripping from his throat as though you'd stolen the breath right from his lungs.

"Shit..." he groaned, his head tossing back, exposing the taut, scarred line of his neck, his sharp jaw clenched tight as though he was desperately trying to hold on.

But he couldn't—not anymore.

His hips arched, pushing deeper into your mouth as he lost himself in the sensation, every sharp intake of breath shattering into ragged, desperate groans. His hands twitched, aching to grab you, to anchor himself, but he held back—barely—letting you lead, completely surrendered.

"Please..." Jason pleaded, trembling with desperation. His blue eyes fluttered open, glazed and dazed, burning with plea and longing as he watched you, utterly lost in the sensation.

The warmth of your mouth, the heat, the intimacy—it was too much, everything, perfect. He was melting, breaking, falling... and he never wanted it to stop.

"You feel... so good..." Jason groaned.

His fingers finally loosened their tight grip on the sheets, you barely had a chance to catch your breath when Jason's hands grasped your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, sending a thrill down your spine. His grip was secure, steady, but not demanding—asking, needing.

Without warning, he moved—swift and decisively —rolling you seamlessly beneath him in one fluid motion, his powerful body hovering just above yours. His strong hands pressed into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in—but instead of feeling trapped, you felt protected, anchored.

Jason's breath hitched, his intense gaze burning into yours, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts as if he couldn't quite process what was happening.

"I need you..." he whispered.

Before you could respond, Jason's hands were already moving, desperate but careful, gentle but intentional. His rough, calloused fingers traced slow, deliberate paths along your sides, grazing the sensitive skin of your waist, leaving fire in their wake. He paused just briefly, as if silently asking for permission, his breath shaking with restraint.

"Jason..." you breathed, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with need, trust, and love.

That was all he needed.

Jason moved, his fingers hooking beneath the hem of your shirt, tugging it up in one smooth motion, exposing your bare chest to the cool air. His sharp blue eyes darkened, his gaze scorching as he took you in, his breath shuddering like he was seeing something precious—sacred.

"You're... perfection," he whispered roughly, almost disbelieving, the words slipping free before he could stop them. His voice trembled with something real, raw, and aching.

You barely had time to process the sincerity in his voice before his mouth claimed yours again—fierce, hungry, and needy. His lips moved against yours with desperate intensity, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, like he couldn't stand the distance between you.

His hands moved again, rough, urgent, tracing the waistband of your pants before pausing—his breath hitching just barely, his gaze flicking back to yours, silently asking, pleading, his sharp features softening with vulnerability.

"Is this... okay?" Jason asked you in a low voice.

"Yes... I'm yours," you whispered, fierce and unwavering, your voice steady but soft, filled with trust and certainty.

Jason let out a shaky exhale, something in his expression breaking, his eyes softening with relief—and love.

"Good..." he growled softly, possessive, but tender, his fingers tightening their hold as he tugged your pants down in one smooth, determined motion, baring you fully to his intense, hungry gaze.

His hands slowly slid down the curve of your hips, his breath hitching when his fingertips brushed the inside of your thighs, pausing for a moment—asking, waiting, needing you to want this too.

"Can I...?" Jason whispered, his voice filled with care—still asking even when you were already his.

"Yes... Jason... please," you breathed, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with want, trust, and need. You couldn't hide the desperation in your tone, couldn't stop yourself from reaching for him, from wanting him closer.

Jason's intense gaze softened at your words, something deep and unguarded flickering behind his blue eyes—relief, devotion, love.

With a exhale, he slowly shifted, his hands sliding beneath your thighs, lifting them with gentle strength, his thumbs tracing slow, reverent circles against your skin as he spread your legs apart. His fingers trembled just barely, as though still processing that this was real, that you were his.

“God... you're so fucking beautiful..." Jason whispered, the words slipping free before he could stop them.

His hands tightened their grip—secure, steady, grounding—as he gently guided your thighs open, positioning himself between them with a deliberate, controlled intensity that left your heart pounding in your chest.

His eyes never left yours, searching, watching every flicker of emotion on your face, every tremor of desire, every gasp that escaped your lips.

Jason settled between your thighs, his broad frame fitting perfectly against yours, pressing you firmly into the mattress without ever making you feel trapped—only safe, only wanted, only needed.

His chest pressed against yours, warm and solid, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in slowly, deliberately, letting his lips brush against your skin with agonizing tenderness. You felt the soft scratch of his stubble, the heat radiating off his body as his mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck, claiming every inch of skin he could reach.

You gasped sharply, your hands finding his back, fingers digging into his taut, muscular shoulders as he pressed closer, the weight of him settling perfectly between your thighs, making you ache for more.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice trembling with want and need, begging without even realizing it.

Jason groaned low in response, his breath shuddering as his hands tightened on your thighs, holding you securely, firmly, like he needed you to stay right there, like letting go wasn't an option.

"I've got you..." he whispered, voice thick with emotion, his intense gaze locking onto yours once more. "I'm right here..."

Jason slowly shifted, positioning himself perfectly between your open thighs.

You felt the heat of him pressing against you, solid and hot, making your breath hitch in anticipation. Jason groaned softly, his forehead resting against yours as he adjusted, his fingers tightening their hold on your thighs with a protective intensity, anchoring both of you in the moment.

Then, with one slow, controlled movement, Jason pressed forward, slipping inside of your hole with agonizing deliberateness, his breath breaking into a sharp, ragged gasp as he finally filled you.

The sensation was everything—intense, deep, perfect. The stretch, the heat, the way he fit against you—in you—felt so right it stole the air from your lungs.

"Oh— Jason...!" you gasped, your voice trembling with a moan, your head tilting back as pleasure spiked through every nerve in your body. Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, clinging to them as though they could keep you grounded.

Jason groaned, his hips trembling as he fought to keep himself controlled, steady, his jaw clenching with the effort.

"Shit..." he hissed, breathless, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he felt you—all of you—wrapped around him so tight, so perfectly that his entire world seemed to tilt. His fingers dug into your hips just enough to keep him grounded, to anchor himself in the overwhelming sensation.

"You feel... so good..." Jason groaned, his voice breaking on the words, filled with wonder and disbelief, as though he still couldn't quite process that this was real—that you were his.

Your body arched into him, your thighs tightening around his waist as you let out another sharp, breathy moan, your fingers dragging down the hard planes of his back, feeling every tense, straining muscle beneath your fingertips.

"Jason..." you whispered helplessly, your voice shaking with pleasure, desperation, and love.

Jason pulled back just enough before slowly thrusting forward again with deliberate, controlled intensity.

His rhythm was slow, sensual, each movement intentional, measured—worshiping. Every slow roll of his hips sent waves of pleasure through your entire body, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

"You feel... so good..." Jason whispered, his eyes never left yours, watching, memorizing every gasp, every moan, every shudder he drew from you.

"Jason..." you whimpered, your fingers dragging down his back, feeling every tense, straining muscle move beneath your touch. "Don't stop... please..."

"I won't..." Jason growled softly, promise etched into every ragged word. "I've got you... I'm not going anywhere."

His pace stayed slow, steady, deep, his hips rolling in a way that made your entire body tremble. Each thrust was precise, intimate, personal—filled with love, devotion, and longing.

A soft, needy moan escape out of your mouth as you leaned up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into his thick, dark hair as you pulled him closer, until there was no space left between you.

Jason let out a low groan, his grip on your waist tightening as your lips brushed against the side of his neck, feeling the warmth of his pulse pounding beneath your mouth. His entire body shuddered, his sharp inhale sharp, like he hadn't expected the rush of sensation.

You lingered, your breath hot against his skin, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath his ear, feeling the faint scratch of his stubble against your lips. His hips jerked, pressing deeper against you, a broken gasp escaping from his lips.

Jason pulled you even closer, anchoring you like he couldn't stand the thought of letting you go.

"Jason..." you moaned, his name spilling from your lips in a soft, breathy whimper as you pressed another kiss into the curve of his neck, slow, intentional, savoring the way he shuddered beneath you.

"Say that again..." Jason growled softly, his voice low and dangerous, thick with desire and need, like the sound of his name from your lips was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Jason..." you whispered again, breathless, your lips brushing against the taut, straining line of his throat as you kissed him deeper, feeling the way his entire body tightened in response. "Jason... please..."

His breath hitched, his forehead falling against yours as he groaned your name in response, desperate and wrecked, trembling like he was losing control.

"You're... gonna kill me," Jason muttered, his voice breaking as his lips brushed yours in a slow, tender kiss that was somehow fierce, devoted, and loving all at once. "God... you're perfect..."

His hands gripped your hips, steady and firm, grounding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His fingers tightened, pressing just enough to leave a burning trail across your skin, not from possession, but from need, want, and worship.

Your hands slid up his back, fingers digging into the hard planes of his shoulders as you held him closer, urging him deeper.

His blue eyes softened, something deep and unguarded flickering behind the desire—love, trust, and something more, something real. He lowered his forehead against yours, steadying himself, his lips brushing yours in a soft, reverent kiss filled with everything he couldn't say.

With one slow, deliberate movement, Jason pressed forward, his hips rolling as he slipped inside you with such precision. His breath hitched sharply, a low, wrecked groan tearing from his throat as he felt you—all of you—surrounding him, holding him, pulling him in.

The sensation was everything. He filled you completely, stretching you with perfect, intense fullness, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the mattress as a sharp, breathy moan spilled from your lips.

"Fuck— Jason...!" you cried, your voice trembling with pleasure and want, helpless against the overwhelming sensation of having him so deep, so intimately connected.

Jason shuddered, his body trembling as he buried himself fully inside of your hole, his chest heaving, muscles taut as he held still, giving you a moment to adjust. His sharp jaw clenched, and his hands dug into your waist, grounding himself as his breath staggered, spilling into the heated space between you.

"F—... You feel... so fucking good," Jason groaned.

Your body tightened around him instinctively, drawing another deep, desperate groan from his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezing shut for just a moment, overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumed him.

"Jason..." you whimpered, your voice shaking, filled with want and need, pleading for him to move, to never stop. You arched beneath him, your thighs tightening around his waist, urging him closer, deeper.

"I'm right here..." Jason whispered, his breath shaking as he slowly pulled back, only to thrust forward again with deliberate intensity, filling you to the hilt with a deep, slow roll of his hips. "I'm not going anywhere..."

The sensation was overwhelming, perfect, each slow, sensual thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body, leaving you gasping and aching for more.

"I want to see you... All of you..." Jason voiced, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let me..."

You could feel the tension in his strong arms, the way his fingers flexed against your waist, fighting to stay in control, even though his entire body shuddered beneath yours, aching for more.

"Take what you need..." he whispered, his voice rough, filled with love and desire. "I'm yours..."

Before you could process the depth of his words, Jason's hands shifted, guiding your thighs slowly until you were straddling him, your knees bracketing his solid, strong hips. His eyes burned with intensity, searching your face for any sign of hesitation—but there was none.

You were his, and he was yours.

His hands tightened around your waist, his strong fingers digging in just enough to make you feel how much he needed this—how much he needed you. He held still, his breath shuddering as he watched you, waiting, letting you lead.

A slow shaky breath escaped your lips as you sank down onto him, feeling every inch stretch and fill your hole completely. A helpless moan spilled from your lips, your back arching as the intensity of being so close, so connected, overwhelmed you.

Jason let out a broken, wrecked groan, his head falling back against the pillows as his hips jerked instinctively, chasing more of your warmth. "Shit... You feel... fuck," he whispered as his hands tightened on your waist, anchoring you firmly in place.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice breathless and shaking, your nails dragging down his taut, muscular chest as you adjusted, savoring the way his body tensed beneath your touch.

Then you started moving, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles as you ground against him, feeling the way his entire body shuddered beneath you, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

"Fuck... Just like that..." Jason groaned, his fingers digging deeper into your waist, guiding your movements while still letting you lead. His blue eyes burned into yours, dark and consumed, like you were the only thing that existed in his world.

Your breath hitched as you moved faster, feeling the way his hips thrust up to meet yours in perfect rhythm, filling you with every slow, deep stroke. The intensity of being so close, so connected, left you breathless, your body shaking from the pleasure building between you.

"God dammit..." you moaned, pleading, your fingers clutching his shoulders as your movements quickened, driven by need, love, and something far deeper than desire.

With one strong thrust, he pulled you down harder, his hips slamming into yours, drawing a sharp, helpless cry from your lips. His breath shuddered, his forehead falling against yours, his hands sliding up your back, holding you close, keeping you safe even as he lost himself in you.

You let out a breathless moan as your hips rolled against him, feeling the stretch, the heat, the way he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, perfect, and left you aching for more.

A groan escaped Jason's parted lips.

"Just like that..." he whispered, his hands flexing on your hips as though fighting to keep control. "Hold on..."

Jason pulled you down while lifting his hips, filling you so deeply that a helpless cry spilled from your lips. Your fingers clutched at his broad shoulders, digging in as you shuddered beneath the force of his movement.

“Fuck..." Jason groaned as he watched you intensely. "That's it... Just like that... I've got you."

He set the rhythm, controlling your movements with expert precision, slowly at first—each deep, rolling thrust deliberate, intentional, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. His breath shuddered with effort as he watched your reactions, his grip steady but firm, guiding you exactly how he wanted.

"Jason..." you gasped as you clung to him, begging for more.

"I know..." he whispered with full devotion. "I know, baby... I've got you... I'm right here..."

His pace quickened, his thrusts growing stronger, deeper, until you could feel him completely—intense, all-consuming, perfect. Each snap of his hips sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body, leaving you breathless, helpless, wrecked.

"You're mine..." Jason growled, his voice low and possessive, his fingers tightening on your hips as he drove into you harder, deeper, like he couldn't get enough. His lips brushed yours in a fierce, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Say my name..." he demanded softly, his voice breaking with need, his forehead pressed against yours, his hips rolling into you with intense precision.

"Jason...!" you cried, helpless, your voice trembling with pleasure as your hands gripped his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you in reality.

"That's it.." Jason whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his rhythm never breaking, never stopping, his love etched into every thrust, every touch, every breath.

"I'm gonna cum..." you gasped with pleasure, helpless beneath the intensity of his touch.

His lips found your neck, hot and possessive, leaving a trail of fire down your jawline, his breath ragged and uneven as he groaned your name like a prayer. His hips rolled with perfect rhythm, hitting deeper, harder, right there, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"Cum, baby..." Jason whispered in your ear.

The pressure inside you built, hot and unstoppable, coiling tighter with every thrust, every touch, every breath shared between you. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming, intense—a storm you couldn't escape, couldn't fight, couldn't resist.

"Jason... please..." you cried out.

"I know..." Jason voiced, barely hanging on as his pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with purpose, power, and precision, driving you closer, higher, further. "Cum for me..."

Your body shuddered, trembling on the edge of release, every muscle tightening, every nerve sparking as the heat in your core exploded, spreading through you like fire.

And then—you broke.

"Jason—!" you cried, helpless and overwhelmed as pleasure erupted, unstoppable and all-consuming, crashing over you like tidal waves that left you breathless, shaking, and completely lost in him.

Your body arched against his, your head tilting back as you gasped for air, clutching him like he was the only thing keeping you together. His name spilled from your lips in ragged, pleading cries as the pleasure surged again and again, leaving you dazed and wrecked in his strong, steady arms.

Jason let out a shaky, low groan, his breath breaking as he felt you tighten around him, his entire body tensing, trembling, losing control right along with you.

"Fuck—" Jason gasped, his hips stuttering, jerking into you with desperation, his breath hitching as he followed you, breaking apart in your arms with a raw, helpless sound torn from his chest.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close, securing you, like he couldn't stand the thought of being anywhere else. His forehead pressed against yours, his blue eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps.

"I love you..." he whispered such with emotion, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss that felt like promise, devotion, and love.

#dc #dc x male reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x male!reader #x male reader #batboys #jason todd #jason todd imagine #smut #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake

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spotsspeciall · 2 years ago

Text

Factory meetings - LN4

vol. 2

Lando Norris x fem!reader

summary: Lando makes a move to Red Bull for 2024 and you work in the Red Bull factory. You meet him, and he’s a dick. But something inside you, needs him.

Notes: Shoutout to @f1goat and the “His teammate” series, for the inspiration!! Fair warning, I'm talking alittle shit about McLaren, but I am a McLaren girly and It’s all lies, I mean nothing by it! I also made up some gibberish about the car, since I don’t know how everything really works haha. This was also longer than I expected, but I can honestly say I'm pretty proud of it.

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. smut, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it folks!) p in v, pet names, language.

word count: 7.3k

masterlist

You had been working at the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes for 2 years. After getting your degree in mechanical engineering, you grabbed the first opening in Red Bull. And now you had built your way up to your current position.

You were sitting on the chair, staring at the little metal pieces in front of you. Trying to figure out the best way to puzzle them together, and make the most out of the car.

Your job was to plan, and build components in the car. And when you gained your current position at the factory, you helped with the success of the RB19.

Working in the factory, you rarely met the drivers. They were here a lot for the simulator and meetings, but your paths rarely crossed. You didn’t need to have contact with the drivers, so you didn’t. Only seeing them from afar, when the whole factory came together for a meeting.

Monday morning, just over a week since the last race in Abu-dhabi, the RB19 had been a huge success. And you were working hard to finish the last details on the RB20 before the new season, working even harder than you did on the RB19. Trying to make the RB20 even better, as impossible as that sounds.

You had a goodbye party for Checo on Friday, as he was retiring. And Christian Horner had announced that Lando Norris was taking his seat.

You had never met Lando, only seen him when you watched the races. And from what you had heard about him, he was kind of a dick.

You and the other women working for Red Bull had formed a strong bond, you and the Red Bull media girl, Sophie, were basically best friends. And since she was on the track every race weekend, she had some encounters with Lando.

She said he was constantly grumpy. He only cared about racing, and the fact that he hadn’t had a win yet, already being in McLaren for 5 years, it started taking a toll on him.

He used to be a kind and sweet person. Loving to chat to people, and loving the interaction with his fans. He was just an all around loving guy. But when his fist win never came, and

The McLaren car never got faster. He turned mean and angry, and stopped caring about anything other than racing. And when Christian gave him a nice offer to fill Checo’s seat, he jumped on it, no hesitation.

You picked up your tools and started assembling the pieces again, to see if your mind had any ideas.

You had your normal shitty Monday morning, and you didn’t have time to properly get ready. So you were sitting here in the Red Bull work clothes, your hair was up, but it had fallen out of your bun and was falling in your face, and you kept trying to pull it behind your ears. You didn’t have time for either makeup or to put your contacts in, so it was glasses today. But it wasn’t that bad, everyone saw you like this every Monday (and most other days too)

But what you didn’t know was that Lando was visiting the Factory today. To have a tour of the factory, and meet everyone working there. You didn’t hear the door open as you were staring a whole into the piece you just assembled. But you did hear your name being called.

You turned around and met the eyes of Christian, but your eyes quickly looked over at the man standing beside him. You hurried to stand up and rip the gloves off your hands. Stretching out your hand to shake his. It seemed like he hesitated for a bit before shaking it, staring into your eyes the whole time.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you”

“Lando”

Yeah, he seemed pretty grumpy.

As you pulled your hand away, Christian started explaining who you were, and what your job was. You didn’t know if Lando was even listening because he was still just staring at you.

Christian then turned to you and asked you how the work was going.

“Oh yeah!” You were blocking their view of the piece, so you turned to walk around the table to show them.

You started explaining what the piece was and what your goal for it was, as you put on a new pair of gloves to show them the piece.

Putting it back down, Lando looked back at you. A small smile had made its way to his lips.

“Is that going in my car?”

“Well yeah, it’s going in both cars”

“But, I’ll only drive the car if you’re the one working on it” He was now smirking at you and turned to Christian. “I’m serious” His smirk was gone.

“Don’t worry Lando, I’ll make sure of it” He said with a smile as he patted his shoulder. “We should move on to look at the paint booths”

As they headed towards the door, Lando turned around before he left. His face was unreadable, and he had a look in his eyes you had never seen. You had never been more confused, and it took you a while to get back into the right headspace for you to finally crack the code.

There were only a few days left before Christmas break, and you hadn’t seen Lando since that first time.

Today had been a stressful day as you tried to do as much as you could in the little time you had left. You were standing in front of the computer, looking at the readings from a recent test, and there were a few numbers off. The frustration got to you, and you pulled off your glasses, rubbing the bride of your nose. Before you shoved the keyboard away and buried your face in your arms on the desk as you groaned in frustration.

Lando had one last visit to the simulator before break. And before he left for the day, he decided to see if you were there. He was mesmerized by you when he first saw you. Your hair was falling in your face, and the glasses framed your face perfectly. He noticed that you had no makeup on, but you were absolutely breathtaking. And when you started talking about your work, he saw the passion in your eyes. He felt a small pull in his chest, and felt like his old happy self for just a moment when he looked at you.

But it quickly disappeared, and he realized his new mission. He needed to have you.

When he opened the door, he heard a groan as he saw your face land in your arms on the desk. The desk was quite high, and as you were bent over it, your ass was on display for him.

He had to fight himself to not go right over and touch you. But he still walked over and leaned on the desk beside you.

“Something wrong baby?”

You quickly looked up, shocked that someone was in the room with you, and why were they calling you “baby”?

When you met Lando’s eyes, you rolled your own. You had already made up your mind about him, and you were not surprised he was acting like this.

You heard a low chuckle coming from him as he saw you rolling your eyes.

You leaned closer to him, really close. He could feel your breath.

“Don’t call me baby”

You could see he was a little shocked at the closeness, so you smirked to yourself and stretched your hand out to grab your glasses that had landed beside him.

Leaning back, you put your glasses on. “And if you must know, I didn’t get the result I wanted”

You pointed to the numbers on the screen. His mouth was slightly open as he still looked a little shocked, but he turned his head to look at the numbers.

“I don’t know what any of the numbers mean” He turned to look at you.

You laughed before replying “Yeah, I know”

After closing your front door and throwing yourself on the couch. You pulled up your phone and sent a text to your best friend Sophie.

“Lando came by the Factory today and called me baby…”

She answered right away.

"BRO!"

“No way!”

“He’s probably trying to get in your pants”

“WHAT?”

“NO HE IS NOT”

“He’s probably just trying to get a reaction out of me”

“Why would he want to get in my pants when he has models drooling over him?”

“Stop it Y/N”

“You are literally drop dead gorgeous.”

“Lando wishes he could get you! But don’t let him use you like that!”

“hahahaha”

“You’re the best Sophie”

“But yeah, he will not be getting anywhere near these sexy pants!”

“YEAHHHH GIRL”

“go piss girl”

“hahaha”

Closing your phone, you laughed to yourself. And when you laid down in bed, and closed your eyes. You couldn’t help when your sleepy brain started thinking about him.

You looked down. Seeing your naked body, tits jumping at the movement you were making. You saw your hands spread out on the lower abdomen of the man under you. You saw his hands groping your thighs, hips, tits. And when one of his hands traveled up to grab your jaw, you met his eyes. Lando.

Waking up, you sat up in bed, hand flying to your jaw.

As your breathing calmed down, you realized the dream. Running the images through your head over and over again. And that's when you noticed just how turned on you were. Your panties totally soaked, and you felt hot.

Landing back in bed you groaned.

“Fuck you brain. That was so fucked up”

You rubbed your hands over your face before getting out of bed. Just a few more days of work before break.

Your brain had sneaked in thoughts about Lando all through the break, much to your dismay. And he always showed up when you were close to an orgasm by your own hand. And one time, his name slipped out in a whisper. But you would try to deny yourself that it ever happened.

And when it was time to go back to work, you felt like it had been long enough for you to forget everything, just praying you didn’t have to see him for a while.

And you were lucky for once. The end of January was nearing, and you had yet to see him. But you knew it was not long before you would.

The start of February was when the car was launching. And you had worked your ass off to finish the last bits, and the tests and readings were good, great even.

There would be a reveal of the finished car in the factory, for all employees, before it was going to be a public launch. And you knew reveal day meant Lando. But you would be fine, all of the employees would be there, no way you would have any contact with him.

And when the day finally arrived you were excited. The RB20 was going to be revealed, a car you helped make, and that was all you could focus on.

You and Sophie were standing together up at the front of the crowd, looking at the car covered in a protective sheet. Christian got up beside the car and started his speech, and then he reached the moment where he introduced the two drivers for the team. Max Verstappen, the reigning world champion, and the new Lando Norris.

As he walked up beside the car, he was dressed in the Red Bull racing suit, and you couldn’t help but admire him in it. It wasn’t wrong to think the man looked good, incredibly good. You knew he was still an asshole, but you did have eyes.

Max had his speech, and then it was Lando’s turn. It was a good speech, talking about how he was ready for something new, a more competitive car. He then started thanking the people working on the car, and he locked eyes with you, and held it until he was finished speaking.

Lando and Max then lifted the sheet off the car to reveal it. And the crowd started clapping. You marveled at the car for a minute, feeling proud. But you felt his eyes on you. So you looked back at him, and you saw that stupid smirk on his face, he then had the audacity to give you a wink. You rolled your eyes at him, and when you looked back at him, he had a genuine smile on his face, and a glint in his eyes. And for just a moment, butterflies fluttered in your stomach, before you were interrupted with Christian speaking again.

You were standing in front of the car, looking down at it in admiration. The “party” had been moved to a different room, where food and drinks were served. And when you found a quiet moment, you slipped away to go look at the car.

You were all alone as you squatted down to get a better look at the car, and the details of it. You couldn’t believe you had a hand in building it. This was Max’s car, with the big, red number 1 on it.

Standing back up, you felt a hand slide its way to your lower back. Shocked, you turned to look at the person beside you. Of course. Lando.

He had that typical smirk on his face as he spoke to you in a low tone.

“Hope you did a lot of work on my car too” “I was serious when I said I will only drive it if you have”

You rolled your eyes again, it was something he really brought out of you.

“I have!” You put on some fake excitement in your tone. “I even put a little extra work into your car” You gave him a suggestive wink.

“Oh, so my car might be a little faster?” He said in a hushed tone, like you were sharing a secret.

“Yeah” You nodded at him, and pointed to the car in front of you. “This is your car right?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “No, this is Max’s”

“Oh shit, guess I put it in the wrong car then” You shrugged your shoulders as you couldn’t hold your laughter anymore.

You turned to walk away, leaving the hold he still had on your lower back. The place where his hand had been was burning hot. And when he saw you taking quick steps to get away, he hurried to follow after you.

“Baby, that was not nice” He said with a small pout as he finally caught up with you.

You stopped in your tracks. “I told you to stop calling me that”

“Oh you look cute when you’re angry” His amusement was clear on his face.

If you weren’t angry before, you sure were now. You groaned as you started walking away from him again. And before you entered the door to the party, he shouted to you.

“Can’t wait to see you again soon baby!” You could hear the grin on his face. But you just opened the door and walked inside, hoping to not see him for the rest of the night.

Just a week after, you were back at work, looking over some data on the computer, when you heard a knock at the door, and then it opened and closed.

Turning around, you were met with Christian. “Oh hey Christian!” “Wasn't expecting you to be here!”

He smiled at you, “I am here to ask if you’re free to have a meeting in my office?”

“Right now?”

He looked down at the expensive watch around his wrist. “Yes”

“Um, yeah sure!” “I’m just going to-” You trailed off as you pressed a few buttons on the computer, before turning it off and walking towards Christian. “Shall we?”

Sitting down in the chair opposite his desk, it all started to become a little intimidating. You waited for him to speak as he looked at a few papers, before lifting his head and meeting your eyes.

“Y/N” “First, I want to formally thank you for your work on the RB19. You made the car what it was. Great work” “And I also want to thank you for the work you’ve put into the RB20. I know it will be even better than the 19” He smiled at you, and you smiled back as you nodded, silently thanking him for his words.

He continued, “I have been talking with Lando Norris, and after he had a test in the car, and felt how it worked. And after he also saw how you worked on it, he has asked for you to be his no.1 mechanic.” He paused, waiting for your response.

“No.1 mechanic? as in, at every race, in the garage, being the head mechanic on his car?” You were shocked, confused.

“Yes.” He gave you a warm smile. “When he suggested it, I totally agreed.” “It would be a perfect job for you, and with all the work you have put in, the least I can do for you is to give you a chance to be with the car at every race.” “So, do you want the job?”

You didn’t even think about the fact that Lando was the one to suggest the job for you. You just focused on the fact that you could be the no.1 mechanic.

“Yes” “Yes I do.” A big smile grew on your face.

“Perfect!” Christian clapped his hands together, and picked up the papers he previously looked at. “Take the time you need to read through them before signing”

Taking the papers in your hands, you read through it. And everything looked perfect. So you signed where you needed to. And handed the papers back to Christian.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity!” “I can’t wait to get started” You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Good!” “Can’t wait to see you on the track”

He then told you the plan heading forwards. You had plenty of meetings coming up. You needed to know what to expect in the garage. And you had a few meetings with the people working in the garage. And after all of that was finished, you were headed to the pre-season testing in Bahrain.

Arriving in Bahrain, you felt prepared. And you were even more happy to finally join Sophie at work, as you walked into the garage together.

Testing had been going pretty great so far, you only needed to do a few tweaks on the car to see if the performance was different.

On the other end, Lando had been tolerable. He had his usual flirty, teasing persona around you. But now that you worked together in a small garage, he had toned it down a bit, much to your pleasure.

But when you got a moment alone, he always sneaked up on you and rested his hand on your lower back, called you baby, and did everything to annoy you. Much to your frustration.

You had been single for a few years. And you hadn’t slept with too many people after. But now it had been a really long time since last. Too busy at work to even care, but you were growing more and more pent up and frustrated. And this asshole resting his hand on your lower back was not helping. It was also not helping that he looked drool worthy all the time.

What was helping, was the fact that he was just that, an asshole. But you had no excuse for yourself when you were alone at night, and you just stopped caring. It made you cum fast, and you were happy with that. So you kept thinking about him every time, while whispering his name under your breath.

It was the fourth race of the season, and you were in Japan. The previous races were good to Lando, who had gotten a podium on each one, but no win yet. But he was good in Japan, he knew this could be the one.

It was early on Thursday, and when Lando walked into the garage, he found you working on the car, alone.

You were so focused as you lay bent over the nose of the car, trying to screw something that was in a tricky position. When Lando saw the sight of you like that, bent over, legs spread, he felt his dick twitch.

He quickly turned his head to look around for the sign of any people, seeing no one, he walked up to you, close enough so your feet were almost touching. Looking down at you, he noticed you still didn’t know he was there, so he cleared his throat to get your attention.

When you heard the sound, it spooked you, and you went to stand up from the compromising position you were in. But you didn’t know someone was standing right behind you. So when you lifted yourself off the car, your ass hit something, someone. You felt a pair of strong hands grab onto your hips to stabilize the both of you, as your back was now flush against his chest. When you looked down at his hands, you saw his watch and bracelets and immediately knew who it was.

You heard a low groan coming from him, right by your ear. And you felt a bulge grow right where your ass was resting against his crotch. You panicked, and shoved yourself back to knock his balance off so he would get off you. When he did, you turned around to look at him with anger in your eyes.

“What the fuck was that Norris!?”

You didn’t even let him answer before you turned to storm out. Two reasons why. First, you were flustered and could feel your face heat up, and you did not want him to see that. Second, feeling his hands hold your waist, and the bulge grow in his pants, you were already soaked and horny beyond belief, and you did not want to be around him in a state like that.

Lando stood there, a little shocked, and flustered. He pulled his hoodie down to try and cover up the bulge in his pants, as he headed towards his driver room.

It was time for a car check. And you were picking up the steering wheel to put it in the car. When you turned back around to go over to the car, you saw him.

Lando was standing in his seat, and you watched him lower himself into the seat, holding onto the halo with a tight grip.

You almost dropped the steering wheel in your hand, as your eyes focused on his hands. You had to literally shake your head to get back to the right headspace.

You walked over to the car, and looked down at Lando looking around the cockpit, trying to get in a comfortable position. After he found it, he looked up and his eyes met yours.

His eyes were shining from the lighting on the ceiling. And the feeling that arose was butterflies hidden by anger. Why the fuck was he so breathtaking, but also such a dick. Fuck him.

You clenched your jaw as you kept eye contact with him.

“You gonna hand me the steering wheel love?” There was that stupid smirk again.

You narrowed your eyes at him in anger, and handed him the wheel. He clicked it in place, and looked back up at you and told you something he wanted changed on the car.

Luckily for you, when he started talking about the car, you went straight into work mode. Not a single thought about Lando in your brain. (Only far in the back)

He pointed to show you something that was underneath the steering wheel, right over where his legs rested. And you couldn’t see it. So you stepped farther towards the back of the car, to see it more from his angle. You grabbed a stepping stool that was standing close by, and leaned over the halo. You face resting just beside his.

“What was it again?” You asked him, surprisingly calm, but the working Y/N was in control right now.

He pointed again, and started explaining it. And you stretched a hand out to point to it as well, making sure you understood each other.

Lando didn’t expect you to get that close. And when you stretched your hand out and got even closer, he turned to look at you.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face, and you could tell in your peripheral that he was looking at you. So you turned to look at him. Your faces so close that your noses almost touched.

But somehow, you kept your cool. “I can fix that for you Lando, you just need to get out of the car.” You smiled innocently at him as you leaned back and stepped away.

When he stepped out, you got your tools ready and lowered yourself into the seat, needing to sit there to get the best access.

As you worked away, Lando stood by the side of the car, arms folded against his chest. There was something going on in his body that he couldn’t recognise. He was still feeling the effects of what happened with the two of you earlier. But there was something different there as well.

On Sunday, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror in the public bathroom. It was not long before race start. And you were staring at yourself in the mirror.

You were angry, frustrated and way too fucking horny. Last night, you caved, again. Imagining your fingers were his. You used it as a way of getting the anger out, and it worked.

But your brain was on overdrive and everything was threatening to boil over. Looking at yourself, you took a deep breath and nodded to yourself, heading back out, ready for work, trying to ignore everything and hoping it would be fine.

You were sitting on the pit wall, as you watched them line back up on the grid after the formation lap. And Lando lined his car up on P1. Max lined up in P4, unlucky in Q3.

The race start was good, the top 5 drivers staying as is. Lando keeping the lead until halfway in the race, Lando boxed to get new tires. And when he moved his way back up the grid again, you heard his voice coming on the radio.

“Something is wrong.”

“The gears are not working properly”

You turned to Lando’s race engineer sitting to your right. You nodded at him, and he nodded back, a silent exchange you both understood.

He contacted Lando to tell him he was looking into it, and would update him as fast as possible.

You looked at as much of the data as you could, as fast as you could. And there you found it. Between all the numbers and graphs, there was one thing off.

You contacted the race engineer on the radio, and pointed to the mark on the screen. He saw it, and you both knew the solution. Luckily an easy one, as he only needed to press a few buttons on the steering wheel to change modes.

The race engineer nodded at you again, but this time, in a way that signaled you to tell Lando. So you did.

“Lando, mode 6, and give it 3.8”

“Understood”

“Thanks Y/N”

You felt like you could hear a smile on his face, but probably not. Right?

When you looked back at the data, you saw everything was fine. And not long after, Lando radioed back to say it was good, and he was ready to get back to the chase.

And he did just that, climbing his way back up. Lucky for him, Max had pitted not long after Lando, making Lando ahead of Max in the race.

You were anxious for the last few laps. He had gotten back into P1, and had made a reasonable gap back to the driver behind him.

The screams you heard on the radio as he crossed the line first, almost made you deaf for a minute. And you had a big smile on your face as you celebrated with the crew on the pit wall, proud of the car you helped in making.

You had gotten the car back to the garage after watching the podium. You, and two other mechanics were pulling the protective sheet over the car. You tried to keep your mind focused on the task at hand, but the image of Lando getting champagne poured on him was seared into your brain. But when you were done with everything, thanking the mechanics before you stepped back. You heard someone entering the garage.

In walked Lando, soaked in champagne and still dressed in his racing suit that was hanging around his hips. When he saw you, he actually smiled. And seeing him like that, you couldn’t help the heat settling in your core.

He almost ran over to you and wrapped his arms around your hips. He lifted you with him in a tight hug, your feet far above the ground, you had to grab onto his shoulders for support.

“There’s my no.1 mechanic!”

His voice was muffled as his face was resting directly against your boobs.

And when you squeezed his shoulders in reaction, he looked up at you as he still held you tight. You couldn’t get any words out. But as he looked up at you, he smiled. A genuine, lovely smile. But something else was shining in his eyes, and his pupils dilated.

He felt you started to slip out of his arms, so he readjusted his grip. He got a firm hold on your ass, and when you felt it, everything boiled over.

“Let. Me. The Fuck. Down.” “Now.”

The mechanics stood there in confusion until they heard that. They shared a look, and hurried to leave the garage. Avoiding you screaming at Lando.

Lando heard the threatening tone in your voice, and he immediately lowered you to the ground.

When he stood back to look at you, he opened his mouth to say something. But you were quicker.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME NORRIS? YOU CAN’T JUST LIFT ME UP LIKE THAT! AND NOT TO MENTION WHAT HAPPENED THURSDAY MORNING! YOU’RE MAKING ME GO CRAZY!” You basically screamed at him, with your finger pointing at him in anger. But you weren’t finished.

“You’re the one who wanted me to have this job, and you’re usually rude and mean, but then you’re teasing me and acting all flirty?!” “You’re so fucking confusing!”

Your brain had exploded at his point. Every feeling that had been pent up for so long, finally boiled over. And since everything hit you, you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter by the second. You let out a heavy breath and lifted your hands to hold onto your head in frustration.

Lando had just taken it all, with his eyebrows lifted in shock. He was making you go crazy? His mind was running, what did you mean? He didn’t know what to do, what to say. But then he saw the small movement you made, and the look on your face. A smirk making its way to his face as his eyes got even darker.

While in your frustration, your body just acted for you. And as you were standing there, looking anywhere but at him, your face red and hot, your whole body on fire. Your thighs squeezed together for some desperate neediness for something, anything.

And when that caught Landos eyes, he took two long steps towards you. His arms wrapping around you, the palms of his hands resting on the top of your ass.

When he was suddenly in front of you, so close. You dropped your hands in shock, and just stared into his eyes, then his lips. They were slightly parted, and you saw the quick moment his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Before you quickly looked back into his eyes, cursing yourself for the moment of weakness.

When you locked eyes again, his eyes were dark, looking down at you. Lando had no patience left. He shoved your body hard, into himself. You chests touching, and the grip he had on your ass, where he was holding you tight against him, you felt almost every detail of his already growing bulge through his pants. If you weren’t soaked already, you sure were now.

You had no control when you let out a small moan at the contact, and that was all Lando wanted, and needed to hear, as he leaned down to capture your lips in an aggressive kiss.

It was like he was hungry, starving for you. And Lando had wanted you since he first saw you, and with the months that had passed, it all came crashing down at the same time.

The kiss was messy, teeth clashing and rough. But you loved it, feeling another moan slip out of your throat.

As you moaned, Lando took the chance and slipped his tongue inside your mouth, your own immediately tangling with his. It was harsh, but so full of passion. His hands were guiding your hips in a way that gave him some much needed friction. And when your hands slid up to grab onto the hair at the back of his neck, he let out a low groan.

You couldn’t take it anymore, and you pulled on his hair, so you disconnected. Your breathing was heavy as you looked up at him. He was breathing heavy too, and his lips were wet, and slightly red. His pupils blown wide. God, he looked so fucking good, you almost wanted to go back to being angry at him. just because of how hot he was. But you didn’t, he spoke before you could do anything.

“Shit, I need you.” His eyes darted all across your face, looking for any type of reaction. “Please”

He looked so desperate, and he sounded even more desperate. He was begging you.

Fuck it, you needed this too. “Your driver room” “Now”

He was quick to grab your hand and pull you after him.

When you finally entered his driver room behind him, he turned around and closed the door behind you. And when he turned back around, he took long steps towards you, until your lips met again.

Neither of you could control the sounds coming from the both of you. His hands were everywhere, grabbing onto what he could. You hands found his hair again, grabbing it, earning a sweet sound from him.

He walked the both of you backwards until the backs of your legs hit the small couch. He spun the both of you around, he sat down and pulled you to sit on top of him.

When you sat down, Lando looked down to where your hips met as his grip on your ass moved your hips, grinding yourself onto him. You lifted both of your hands to hold onto the sides of his face, and made him look at you.

When Lando looked at you, you almost took his breath away. Your cheeks were tinted pink, and your lips were open, breathing heavily. Some of your hair had fallen in your face and your eyes were shining as you looked at him, he swore, you were a goddess. His hands slid up to hold on to your waist, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in a way to try and control himself. But he lost it the second you whispered.

“Just fuck me already”

His hands immediately found the hem of your Red Bull shirt and pulled it over your head. You understood the signal and stood up from his lap and went to pull your pants off, as he pulled the fireproof shirt over his head.

You were standing in front of him in only your underwear as you looked at him hurrying to pull his race suit and the fireproofs of his legs. When he finally did, he looked up at you, and you swore you could see his dick twitch in his gray boxers.

Your confidence grew in you, so you went to take your bra off. When it hit the floor, you could hear him muttering under his heavy breath “Fuck”. Next, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled them down.

It had been awhile since the last time someone saw you naked, but with the reaction Lando was giving you, his eyes looking at you like you were a goddess. It made you feel beautiful, and so powerful. So you stepped forward until you were right in front of him. His eyes kept shifting from your face to your tits.

You sat down in his lap again, your knees resting beside his hips, and your core just barely touching the outline of his dick in his boxers. When you leaned down to capture his lips again, you lowered your hips until you felt his covered dick resting between your folds. And because of the much needed friction you got. You moaned into his mouth.

The kiss was much slower and careful than before, frustration replaced by the need to really taste each other. His hands had found a tight hold on your hips, as he tried to guide them to move.

“Baby, you’re soaked” He said as he looked down at where you were resting above him.

Lifting your hips, you saw that his boxers were absolutely soaked because of you. And you felt your face heat up even more.

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore” “You reckon you’re ready to take me?”

He looked up at you, and you felt stunned. Just nodding wildly at him, his smirk grew. He looked down again, and pulled his boxers down enough to free his dick. Springing free, it hit his abdomen. You stared down, bewildered. How was he supposed to fit?

His hands found your hips again, and he guided them to rest right above him. One of his hands wrapped around his dick, and he moved his hands up and down a few times, as he looked up at you. You were staring down at his hand wrapped around himself, and you felt your pussy clench, waiting to finally have him inside of you.

He moved his dick so the tip was resting against your hole. Looking up at him, he still had that smirk on his face.

“Think you can handle it?”

You didn’t reply before you dropped your hips down until he bottomed out inside of you. His pelvis hitting your clit. You both moaned simultaneously. The stretch was a lot, he was big, and you hadn’t had a dick in you for ages. But God it felt so good.

Lando swore no one had been able to fit around him so perfectly, and when you took all of him, he felt you clench around him, almost holding him in. He felt another moan slip out of him. His mouth was hanging open in awe as he looked at you. Your head was tipped back, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“Shit, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted you” He almost whispered.

He slid a hand up to hold on to the side of your face, tipping it down to make you look at him. And his other hand gave your hip a squeeze.

“Please move”

You didn’t have to make him beg for you, he just did on his own. Was he really this weak for you?

A smirk grew on your face as you wanted to know just how weak he was. You just grinded your hips slowly, and you watched his face as his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. You kept your small movements up, but he tried to lift your hips up and down on him. But you were stubborn, and you didn’t budge.

Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, as the movement was so good for you. Your clit getting friction everytime you moved back and forth. Your breath coming out in whimpers.

You closed your eyes again, but opened them when you felt his hand on your face again. The look on his face was pleading.

“Please baby.” “I need more” His voice was so soft and sweet, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

“Say it again.”

“Please please please please baby”

His hands were running up and down your torso as his eyes were locked on yours.

You gave in and moved your hips up to slam them back down. And the groan that made its way out of lando could’ve made you cum already.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, as you kept up the rhythm, riding him with your hands gripping his shoulders. His hands slid around to your ass and grabbed a hold as he helped you move up and down on his dick, and his hips moved up to meet yours.

You knew the door to the driver room was pretty thin, so you bit your bottom lip to try and hold back some of the sounds threatening to escape. Lando noticed, and snaked a hand around to circle his thumb around your clit. He saw it on your face, the effect it had on you. But he also felt it, as you got even tighter around him. You didn’t moan from it, but he sure did.

You were so focused as you tried to keep quiet, but with the added pleasure it was so difficult, also because of the sounds he was making.

“Come on baby, let me hear you” He said in a low tone, as he was looking up at you.

That broke you. And he got the sounds from you that he desperately needed to hear.

As you looked down at him, you saw his eyebrows scrunched together as he was staring at himself disappearing inside you, and his mouth was hanging open. You lifted one of your hands and ran it through the wet curls on the top of his head, still soaked in champagne and sweat.

You grabbed a hold of them and pulled his head back to make him look at you. All of the feelings you had for him came rising to the surface, just as you felt your climax closing in. The feelings of anger and frustration. So with gritted teeth, you spoke.

“Fuck you.”

He enjoyed that.

“You already are sweetheart.”

You gave in and sped up your rhythm. And his thumb moved faster and his grip on your ass tightened. Your hand slid down to cradle his jaw. You ran your thumb across the facial hair growing on his chin, before you pulled him in for a searing kiss before your climax hit like a brick wall.

You disconnected from the kiss and tipped your head back, eyes screwed shut, as your vision was going white, and you whispered a quiet “Fuck, Lando” as you came.

Lando felt you tighten around him as you came, and he looked up at you, mesmerized, as he saw your face contourting as you came around him. And he followed right after, coming inside you.

You felt him filling you up, and his thumb had slowed down, but was still rubbing soft circles helping you come down from your orgasm. After a few seconds of catching your breath, as he did the same, you opened your eyes to look at him again, and he was already looking at you. The ghost of a gorgeous smile on his face.

His hands rested on your thighs, and his thumb rubbing soft circles again. Neither of you said anything, you just looked at each other.

“You’re going to be the death of me”

He was whipped.

Notes: I realized this could be made into a series or something. So let me know if you want more!! Thank you for reading<3

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x you

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resident-dumb-fuck · 8 months ago

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richard iii dashboard simulator. i thought it would be funny and here we are

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

what if i caused problems on purpose <3

0 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

oh no... i cant believe the king is having my brother killed... oh noooo

#FUCK YOU GEORGE

3 notes

💥ladyanne Follow

man i miss my husband and father in law

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

hey

💥ladyanne

shut the fuck up you literally killed them??? get off my post

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

can i try rizzing you up

💥ladyanne

um. sure?

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

💥ladyanne

i can't believe i'm saying this but this is kind of working.

🧍‍♂️gentleman-retainer

anyone else in this thread smoke weed

958 notes

🌹lancaster-official Follow

you all suck.

@/elizabeth-woodville your son will die and you will be deposed and youre gonna die SAD and ALONE.

@/river-severn @/dorset-sheep and @/billhastings you're gonna get executed

@/halfhearteddickjoke hm. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. nobody hang out with this conniving bitch i hate him i hate him so much and i am three seconds away from killing him constantly.

🐦fuckinghim Follow

get off tumblr margaret we're in court

🌹lancaster-official

he's not gonna want you as his boytoy forever

🐦fuckinghim

WE'RE NOT EVEN IN A RELATIONSHIP??????

🌹lancaster-official

i've seen you talk to him. i know what you are

5000 notes

🗼mr-london-tower Follow

just heard george duke of clarence say "snork mimi" aloud i'm gonna [remembers that suicide jokes do nothing for my mental health] request to be moved away from guarding his cell

🗼mr-london-tower

update: so it turns out the malmsey wine is unusable, for related reasons to this man.

#fuckin. dead body in the malmsey. cant have nice things around here #i hate my job so bad

94 notes

eddie-baby-deactivated

yayyy everybody is friends now :)

🐗halfhearted-dick-joke

dude you literally killed clarence??? you cant be having other people making friends youre a murderer

eddie-baby-deactivated

WHAT THE FUCK I THOUGHT I CANCELED THAT ORDER???

🐗halfhearted-dick-joke

you killed that guy man what the fuck. you cant be doing that

764 notes

👗elizabeth-woodville Follow

I regret to inform you all that the king has died.

5 notes

✨cecily-not-sicily Follow

dude my sons GOTTA stop dying. this is so fucked.

3 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

i do so love to cause problems on purpose :)

#sorry to any family members of lords rivers, vaughan, and grey. um. you will not be seeing them anymore! <3

1285 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

preteens are so scary for no reason??? had to interact with two for work and like. they suck so bad. "i fear no uncles dead" shut the fuck up you smartass little shit. also had to explain to them the history of the tower of london which. i don't fucking know that shit! i don't know who built the tower of london! it sure as fuck wasn't julius caesar!

7 notes

#️⃣billhastings Follow

SOMEONE has got to stop waking me up in the middle of the night to hear their dreams

#️⃣billhastings

oh what the fuck.

607 notes

🍓bishop-ely Follow

crazy day at work today

#never go outside to get strawberries worst mistake of my life #came back in the room and they were accusing hastings of witchcraft. like sure yeah i guess

20 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

richard duke of gloucester should be king because not only are edward v and richard duke of york illegitimate but also so was edward iv. also richard duke of gloucester is just. kind of an all around good guy! as opposed to edward iv who ah. how do i put this in a manner that isn't horribly offensive. yeah okay figured it out. not a great person! unpleasant to be around!

also if you wanna know what was up with hastings he was a traitor don't worry about it.

954 notes

💥ladyanne Follow

RICHARD. RICHARD WHEN I CATCH YOU RICHARD. WHAT DO YOU MEAN KING OF ENGLAND

2 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

shit dude that one vine wasn't lying. what the fuck richard

#i have to leave immediately. jesus fucking christ man.

500 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

yay king of england :) i will be very good at this i feel

#everybody's always like "what the fuck richard you can't kill two kids" or "why would you do that" and never like "was it fun having those preteens killed. it looked fun"

0 notes

🌹lancaster-official Follow

@/halfhearteddickjoke FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

submitted by @/elizabeth-woodville

90 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

wow everything is going so bad. what the entire shit @/fuckinghim

2 notes

🐦fuckinghim Follow

ughhh margaret was right. NOT ABOUT THE BOYTOY THING

307 notes

®️henry-twoder-or-something Follow

hi ive been here the whole time. ive done the math and i do technically have a claim to the throne :)

83 notes

🐗halfhearteddickjoke

i cant believe im saying this but i did just have an ebenezer scrooge moment. god i hate it here.

#maybe i am a bad person

54 notes

®️henry-twoder-or-something Follow

wow richard has died :) i cant believe i am the king now! yayyyy

2 notes

🚣‍♂️resident-dumb-fuck Follow

final message from op! sorry everyone. im so annoying about this forever

#richard iii #unreality #sorry everyone!#shakespeare #long post #like. so long that i sent this to my friend who didn't have a tumblr and halfway through tumblr was like “no you need an account”

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jesuistrestriste · 2 months ago

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pleasepleasePLEASEEE give android!art a fake dick and lubricant as cum 😭😭 the idea that it’s not what he’s made for but the company figured people were gonna try to use them anyway so hey, why not,,, or maybe he’s just a really specific model idk. it’s all ur choice but hhhh using him 😵‍💫

i am plotting…. plotting plotting plotting… i promise you that. BEEN plotting on this. i imagine android!art being built with a fake dick—no sensation trailing from it to his wiry nervous system—that comes/leaks lubricant (for convenience), but he’s still programmed to know what sex is supposed to feel like.. so just watching his cock go in and out is enough for his systems to begin overheating because while he doesn’t actually feel his length, he is programmed to be able to empathize with assumed sensation. he knows how good it feels for humans, so his advanced inner technology can simulate similar feelings within him

does that make sense. am i crazy

#i dont know #im still thinking about the logistics #ie whether or not i want him to go crazy from how much he feels #vs going crazy because he realizes how much pleasure he’s giving you #sage’s asks #android!art

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19burstraat · 2 years ago

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ketterdam dashboard simulator 2 (electric boogaloo)

(first one here)

❌ urkerchfaveisproblematic follow

Who submitted Kaz Brekker. don't take the piss he's literally wanted every other Wednesday

🍃 squallertales follow

Wait what did Brekker do

🌊 boekcanaling

Girl what DIDN'T he do

🦁 dimelionsofficial follow

Ghezen's Day Piss Up starts TONIGHT at the Kaelish Prince! Come down before four bells and get ten kruge off your first drinks purchase and an extra spin on Makker's Wheel!

👤 dregsofficial

545.06.7.9

🦁 dimelionsofficial follow

HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE FUCKING VPN. FUCK YOU KAZ BREKKER. FUCK YOU SO MUCH. YOU DO THIS EVERY TIME. WE'RE NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING TO YOU. WE'RE ALL JUST PEOPLE WITH JOBS. TRYING TO GET BY. MOST OF US NEVER EVEN SPOKE TO ROLLINS. THIS IS SO TWISTED. YOUR ACTUALLY WRONG IN THE HEAD. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. I ACTUALLY CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE. I'M SICK.

👤 dregsofficial

*you're

❓lidandstavessuggestions

#234: build mickey's dick smasher between east and west stave

🍷dregsconfessions

So I've been a dregs member for a long time (I'm in my 30s now) and back when I was a new grunt I was especially trolleyed at the Crow Club, and I ended up spilling like half my pint on the head of one of Haskell's feral little runners, yk one of the little kids?? I just kind of mopped him with my sleeve and said sorry and figured that it was the end of it... however it has occurred to me lately that it actually might have been Kaz. Honestly I never could tell the difference between all the kids, and I didn't look properly at him, but now I've been waking up in a cold sweat several times a week thinking about it. Is it time for me to retire from the gang life

#submisson #admin comment: lately all of these have just been ppl embarrassing themselves in front of kaz

🧇 stroopwafels

There's definitely blogs on here that are undercover advertising for the Dregs btw. I accuse that one that thirstposts abt Dirtyhands

🧤 dirtyhandsy follow

:( no I'm a Razorgull actually

🧇 stroopwafels

WHAT???????

🧤 dirtyhandsy follow

I have eyes :/

🧇 stroopwafels

You won't for much longer if your boss finds out omfg

🃏 makkerswheelies follow

you guys are cowards for not wanting to fuck Brekker. Out of my way ghezenboy I'm bout to get it

🃏 makkerswheelies follow

My wallet is Gone

💀 dregsundrained follow

Kaz Brekker isn't violent. Dirtyhands is. Get it right

🏵️ cillasfryup

Gonna rob a bank tomorrow and when the stadwatch come I'm gonna tell them it was my alter ego Countess Boochie Flagrante

🙏🏻 thumbofghezen follow

sooooo sick of seeing people say that the council of tides shouldn't have complete control over kerch shipping. they stop the island from sinking??? every day?? have some respect

⛲ sanktvladimirs

idk about you guys but I'd be popping the BIGGEST bottles if kerch started sinking

🏵️ cillasfryup

me and the girls when kerch starts sinking

🌊 boekcanaling

staff please let me reblog ads please please please please

💪🏻 lionsroar12 follow

guys you have 24 hours to unfollow sanktvladimirs not only are they impersonating and mocking real etherealki and real saints (they are NOT a member of the second army) they're a dregs member, and I bet they're a fucking ka/nej too

⛲ sanktvladimirs

@ dregsofficial

💪🏻 lionsroar12 follow

I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

💪🏻 lionsroar12 follow

WHO SENT ME AN ANON ASK WITH MY ADDRESS

🍷dregsundrained

guys I was looking at the wiki contributions who the fuck added a jesper fahey page to the dregs wiki... from inside the stadhall???

🥳 pearlhandledrevolvers

you know what. don't even worry about it

liked by dregsofficial

🍃 squallertales follow

the wraith was only seventeen when she started hunting slavers???? she should have been at the club

#DON'T crawl out of the woodwork and say 'oh the crow club-' #the REAL CLUB. for FUN

🎨 dekappelfan follow

it's so nice to know no one agrees on this

#I know most of these are about kaz but he's the closest thing the barrel has to a celebrity. also he is an endless comedy goldmine #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #ketterdam #kanej #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #dashboard simulator #my post

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sillygoose067 · 6 months ago

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A Masked Promise

Ch.5

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader

Dick Grayson stood in the training hall of Titan Tower, arms crossed, eyes scanning his team as they prepared for their next mission. The atmosphere was tense, the sounds of combat simulations in the background blending with the palpable sense of anticipation in the air. After weeks of training, the team was getting closer to working as a unit, but they still had miles to go.

“Alright, team,” Dick began, his voice calm but authoritative. “We’ve got a potential threat in the city. A group of tech-savvy criminals, armed with weaponry far beyond their means. We’ll need to hit them fast and hard, but also work together—no solo acts this time.”

Kory Anders, her eyes still blazing green from her earlier display of starbolts, floated up into the air, clearly ready. “I can take care of the firepower, but I don’t know how much my blasts will do against their tech.”

“Exactly why we need to work as a team,” Dick said, adjusting his utility belt. “Gar, you’ll be our recon. Get in, find their weak points, and relay the information. Connor, you’ll back up Kory. Make sure she doesn’t get pinned down while she’s dealing with their tech.”

Donna Troy, always poised, leaned forward, her brow furrowing slightly. “What about Rachel? She’s been working on those energy shields. She should be front and center with me.”

Dick nodded, giving a brief smile. “Good call, Donna. Rachel, you’ll be in the front, covering our flank with shields while we push forward. And Hank, Dawn, you’re with me on the ground. Keep an eye on the civilians, make sure we don’t cause any unnecessary damage.”

The team moved to their respective spots, preparing for the mission, but Dick’s mind wasn’t entirely on the task at hand. As he adjusted his Nightwing mask, his thoughts wandered briefly to someone else—you. You had been a constant presence in his life lately, offering help to Rachel when things got rough and pushing him to question some of the choices he’d made. He could still picture your quiet strength, the way your eyes shone when you spoke of hope, even in the darkest of times.

“Grayson, you alright?” Donna’s voice broke through his thoughts. She stood nearby, her arms crossed, a knowing smile on her face.

“Yeah, just… thinking,” Dick said, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“You’ve got that faraway look in your eyes,” Donna continued, her tone light but probing. “I know what that means.”

Before Dick could respond, Dawn Granger approached, her gaze soft but understanding. “You’ve been distracted a lot lately. Something on your mind?”

Dick sighed, glancing at the others as they prepared. “It’s just… everything. The mission, the team. But mostly… Y/n. She’s been on my mind a lot.”

Donna raised an eyebrow. “Y/n, huh? I didn’t take you for someone who’d let their feelings get so… tangled. What’s going on?”

Dick ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I don’t know. When I’m with her, it feels… right. But I’m Nightwing. She’s not part of this world, and I’m not sure how she would fit into all of this. But there’s this connection. I can’t shake it.”

Dawn gave him a sympathetic look. “You know, Dick, sometimes the things we push away are the things we need the most. Maybe it’s not about fitting her into your world, but figuring out how the two of you can fit together. You’ve always been about protecting people, right? Maybe it’s time you let someone in to protect you, too.”

Donna nodded, her expression softening. “You can’t be everything to everyone, Dick. You’re allowed to have a life outside of being Nightwing. You’ve been through a lot—alone. Don’t let that be your only story. Y/n seems like she’s worth the risk.”

Dick looked at his teammates, each one of them ready for what lay ahead, and for the first time in a long while, he felt conflicted. He had always believed that keeping his emotions at bay was the only way to protect those he cared about. But now, with the possibility of something more with you, it felt like he was standing on the edge of something he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “Maybe I need to figure this one out before it’s too late.”

Dawn placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a rare, understanding smile. “Whatever you decide, we’re here for you. Just remember that you’re not alone in this.”

Donna’s tone was lighter, teasing almost. “And if you decide to finally tell Y/n how you feel, don’t make it some grand, brooding speech. Trust me, she’ll appreciate the honesty more than the drama.”

Dick chuckled despite himself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The team had gathered, ready to go. As Dick moved to lead them out, he took one last moment to steady himself, the weight of the upcoming mission and the complexities of his emotions pressing down on him. But for the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to do everything on his own.

As they headed out, he couldn’t help but think of you again, wondering what the future might hold if he allowed himself to take that leap. The mission would come first, but after that, perhaps it was time to figure out the possibility of something more.

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yourlocalxiaosimp · 6 months ago

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Hilarious dialogue ideas:

- “I don’t think he even remembers we’re dating.” “Wait, you guys are dating?”

- “[name] the red-tongued reindeer, had a very shiny tongue. And if you ever saw it, you would even say… yuck.”

- “I’m gonna need you to look deep into my eyes and ask me that question again.”

- “I got your mom on speed dial.”

- “Okay, but have you tried maybe not having a skill issue?”

- “Do you believe in fate?” “Do I know you?”

- “What if we’re all just part of a simulation?” “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

- “*forgets a word* How you say in English…” “Yo I didn’t know English wasn’t your first language.” “Oh no it is, I just say that to sound smarter.”

- “Maybe the real killer is the friends we made along the way.” “Bitch, [name] just died! What are you talking about?”

- “It’s not terrorism if it’s your own house.”

- “You can’t get an hourglass figure! You’re a burger!”

- “That is one of the last things of your older brother’s that lives here. Glad to know how you feel about him.” “…It’s a fucking ancient tv, what do YOU want to do with it?!” (Bonus points: the brother is still alive)

- “You killed my father!” “*clicks tongue* Sounds like a you problem.”

- “I didn’t lie. I just… told the wrong truth.”

- “Are you homophobic?” “Yes, homo sapiens are terrifying.”

- “…And now I’m just an old fat guy.” “Oh, come on. You’re not that old!”

- “I’ve got a brain the size of his dick, what do you expect?” “Hey, don’t drag me into your self deprecation!”

- “I take that as a compliment 🥰” “You shouldn’t. I’m deliberately insulting you.”

- “I hope your phone dies.”

- “No, I get the whole curse thing, YOU HAVE CHILDREN???”

- “I thought you were joking about looking cute in a bedsheet but you were right, this is adorable!” “I was joking…” “…Oh.”

- “I’m marrying _.” “What? But I was gonna marry _!”

- “You’re gonna regret that when you’re older.” “Hey, at least this one looks cool!”

- “Looks like we can’t mansplain manipulate manslaughter our way out of this one” “*starting to loosen a clothing item* Manwhore it is.”

#dialogue prompt #funny writing ideas #writing prompts #writing ideas #random #silly dialogues #xiao simp things

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lewisconstellation · 2 years ago

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plastic off the sofa

Your room smelled like Sunday beach days. Fresh breeze, the smell of the sea. The peace that only the soft tingle of sand in your feet can bring. If you closed your eyes you would hear the sound of waves coming and going, crashing on the sand. You would see the kids running toward the ocean, playing volleyball somewhere on the beach.

If you got up from the bed you were lying on, walked down the few steps that took you to the front door of your rented house in San Francisco, you would probably be facing this beautiful landscape. But the sight you have in front of you is better than that.

Lewis is sitting right in front of you. His body slumped in the leather chair, he's looking comfortable there, cozy. But his eyes had only one focus: the computer screen that rested in his lap. He looked intent, brows furrowed and lips pursed, focused on pinpointing the data the graphs provide him. Worried, he tried to find some way to make the car feel a bit faster, to help his team, to be better. He was having a hard time this season, struggling with the car. It didn't seem to cooperate with him and it took him off the top of the podium, the place where Lewis always belonged.

For the media, Lewis appeared strong, hopeful, always shielded by his beautiful words of overcoming. But for you, for you he didn't have to lie. He knew he could be himself, he felt safe to show his insecurities to you.

You let your eyes fall onto his figure again, can no longer pay attention to the episode of Gilmore Girls that was on TV. You like to see him like this, so focused on one goal. You feel your stomach clench hard at the sight. You want to sit on his lap, kiss him all over his face, repeat how much you love him. Or you just want to kneel in front of his legs, take his dick in your hands, feel his weight on your tongue, even if you had only done that a few hours ago.

You just wanted to make him forget any worries, to take away the wrinkles that graced his forehead when he was caught up in focus. Relax it. After all, that was the point of the breaks between race weekends.

But even on the few days off he had, Lewis didn't really allow himself to rest. Two daily workout sessions, piano and french lessons, data analysis and tireless hours on the simulator. He seemed restless, not able to sit still for even an hour. His hardworking spirit had already been a topic of discussion in your relationship, and from time to time it resurfaced. But you always found a way to work it out.

Usually Lewis was the first one to apologize. Flowers on your door, a handwritten letter, and a promise that he would rearrange his schedule, find enough time to rest, to disconnect from work even if it was only for a moment. He was incredibly calm, anyone who knew him could see it, feel it radiating from him. Always a conciliator, always more reasonable than you.

But sometimes you had to raise the white flag first. Less romantically than him, obviously. An apology, at night, lying in the same bed, curled up to each other, just existing together after having a great session of make up sex. You would try to find solutions to your problems. The certainty that they could solve everything, as long as they were together. But in the end, you understood him. You understood all the efforts he made to keep himself at a high level not only on the tracks, but also off them. No matter how much they wanted it, Lewis always wanted more.

"You're distracting me." Lewis muttered, so low you can barely hear him. You got so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice your boyfriend's sudden change of position. He's looking at you now, head up towards you. An unabashed, enduring look that makes it unable to look away. He looked hungry. Like you're his prey and he's about to devour you. Graphics are no longer his focus, your eyes have taken their place. You shift in bed, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

"But I'm not doing anything." Your voice sounds confused. You take a sip of the pineapple juice he brought you earlier, enjoy the cooling sensation in your throat. Your boyfriend shakes his head, moves one hand to his hair, adjusts the braids in the elastic band that holds them in a low bun. A giggle escapes from his lips as his gaze turns back to you.

"The way you're looking at me. This is distracting me. You know I can't think about anything else when you look at me like that" This is your turn to laugh. Lewis was always being so focused on his activities and a simple look distracted him. It sounded unbelievable, but you knew it was true. The same with you. A mere look, a small touch, a few words. Little gestures from Lewis were enough to make you crazy. And it was good to know you had the same effect on him.

You leave your glass on the table next to the bed, hears the tinkle of the glass material in contact with the thick wood.

"Like what? How do I look at you, Lew?" You ask. You lean your neck to the side, lean your face on your hand, slyly. He keeps looking at you, fire rising in his brown eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as you noticed the flames in his irises. His hand left his hair and went to his chin. He smoothed his beard, a smug smile painting his face. He puts the computer aside, stands up. He was in this game with you, always.

Lewis starts walking to you, his steps slow, calm, so graceful that you feel mesmerized, unable to look away from your man. You didn't know if you'd ever be able to stop looking at him, at everything you loved about him. The perfect face, framed by his newly made braids. His silky, shiny, well hydrated skin. His bright brown eyes, so kind that set you on fire and at the same time made you feel extremely loved, cared. His strong, well-built muscles, glistening in the evening light. Even his short stature. Before him, you used to say that you didn't like short men, that they weren't attractive. But Lewis. He managed to be different in everything. You've come to admire his short stature. You could see the greatness behind it. You loved all the little things that made Lewis be himself.

Suddenly, he's right in front of your bed, his legs touching the edge of it. All he's wearing is a pair of sweatpants, hanging freely around his waist, his tattooed abs exposed only to you. His hand touches your ankle, big enough to circle it completely. He squeezes it. You try to escape from his grip, try to move your leg, but Lewis is faster than you and pulls you by the ankle, a scream escaping your lips as he does. His fucking good reflex, you think. He pulls you up until you're sitting on the edge of the bed, right in front of him. He lowers himself to your level, watches you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even after so long, his gaze so close, so intense, makes you nervous, restless.

Unexpectedly, he pushes you onto the soft mattress again, his body hovering over yours, your legs spread to accommodate him. His strong frame grapples your small body. One hand dropped to his side so his body weight doesn't fall all over you. The other hand gently touches your face, his hot body dangerously close to yours. His breath hovers over your face, his mouth inches from yours. You close your eyes, wait for him to kiss you, but then his face is curving and he fits right into the crook of your neck. His nose creeps over your skin slowly, smells your scent intensely. A hoarse groan comes out of his throat, looking deeply pleased to experience your scent, to be so close to you again.

"Fuck, baby. I love your smell, it is so good. You don't even know how fucking crazy it make me feel."

You make a satisfied sound at the compliment and feel your face heat up. You smile when you realize this. Few words and he left you helpless, dizzy in his arms. That was the effect Lewis had on you.

"Do you still want to know how you were looking at me?" He whispers in her ear, the husky voice more than enough to soak your panties. Not satisfied, your boyfriend lifts one of his arms, takes his hand away from your face, and leaves it on one of your breasts, covered only by a tank top you stole from him. He rubs his finger across it, creating a nice friction between the thin fabric and your skin. He makes your nipples hard quickly and you feel like you will melt under his touches. His hand quickly seeps along the side of the fabric, his fingers now in direct contact with your skin, pinching your sensitive nipple. "Answer me baby"

"Yes, yes, please!" Your voice comes out shaky, needy. He laughs at your tone. Loves how responsive you are to him. He feels proud of it, of being able to cause so many sensations in you. In give you so much pleasure that you could never find it in another person.

"You gave me that look." He pauses, his mouth licking a sensitive spot on your neck. You moan against his cheek in ecstasy. "That look you always give me when you want me to eat your pretty pussy out. The one you give me when we're partying and you just want to go back home and ride my dick. That one you give me when all you want is my dick buried deep inside of that fat pussy of yours." The effect his words have on you is inexplicable. You feel your stomach tighten, the thin fabric of your panties sticking to your skin, a sign of how wet you were for him.

Lewis finally removes his face from your neck, looks back at you, one of his hands gripping your chin, forces you to look at him. Lewis' eyes darkened and he leaned into you, capturing your mouth in a kiss and you were lost in the feel of his hot tongue on your lips. The tingling in your center got harder to ignore and you tried to ease the tension by pressing your legs together.

"Is that what you want, baby? You want daddy's cock buried deep inside of your pussy, yeah?" He asks, even though he already knows the answer. You nod your head. He had just taken you a few hours ago and you still weren't satisfied. And he didn't seem to either. You seemed addicted to each other, you never got tired of that feeling, of being intertwined with each other. This was the effect of a long-distance relationship, marked by long trips, facetime calls and different time zones. An endless longing, so strong that it hurt. So when you were together, alone, with all the time in the world just for the two of you, you wanted to enjoy it in the best way. Just couldn't help but be around him.

"I want to hear you, babygirl" Lewis mutters, pinching your chin once more. A sigh escapes your lips. He had barely touched you, but you are already completely inert, unable to put words together, to form a single sentence.

"Yeah, daddy, please" You swallow hard, brush your lips against his, kiss him one more time. He pulls back the slightest bit, rubs his thumb over her lips.

"That's all you had to say." He mumbles, lays you down completely against the mattress and rises up minimally, only to touch you with greater ease. His hands traveled down your body and stopped at the hem of your shirt. He lifts the fabric, exposes your belly, the small, wet panties you wore completely exposed to him. You spread your legs, giving him a better view of your pulsating center. A sigh escapes from you lover. He runs his finger over your wet panties, your back arches and you exhale harshly.

Your lips were parted at the small sounds, which weren't completely moans, that escaped your mouth. You didn't feel capable of formulating anything a bit elaborate when his hands were on you. Lewis ran his finger up and down slowly, teasing you, creating little shivers of pleasure through your body. But suddenly, he pauses his movements. The pad of his thumb against your core, a nice, good pressure, but it wasn't enough. You needed more.

"Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want." He asks. Always a tease, he always wanted to push you to the limit, loved to hear you begging, loved to dominate you. You take a deep breath, couldn't stand that torture for so long. Your hands reach for his face, his neatly trimmed beard tickling your fingers. You bring him close again, your lips millimeters apart.

"I want you to eat my pussy, daddy. Want you to fuck me with your tongue and then I want to cum all over your face. Please, daddy" You whisper, your fingertips caressing his face. Lewis lets out a groan when he hears you talking like that, so brazenly. It makes his cock, painfully hard against your leg, twitch. With that, his fingers curl around the sides of your hips and he finally pulls your panties down, leaving your pussy bare for him. You spread your legs once more, this time wider. You can feel it dripping, wetting the white sheets.

His eyes land on your bare pussy, open and glistening for him, soaked and pulsing around nothing. Anxiety took over his body, an uncontrollable urge to run his tongue along your damp folds, explore every part, taste you once more. Feel the strange satisfaction when you finally reach the peak.

He seems to lose himself there, continues to watch in complete adoration. You sigh impatiently, your body shaking in anticipation. Then you dip your own fingers into your heat, little noises echoing through the room evidencing just how soaked you were. You lift your fingers in front of his face, show how wet they are. "See? How much I want you?" You say, a mischievous smile painting your features.

Lewis wastes no time, takes your hands in his and licks your fingers, his tongue greedily brushing it, savoring your taste. "Your taste is so fucking good. I don't think I could ever live without it" He says, bends down, his face right in front of your needy center. His hands touched your thighs, leaning on them.

He finally seemed to take pity on you and ran his tongue all the way from your opening to your clit. You closed my eyes, a deep groan cutting through your throat.

"Don't you dare take your eyes off mine." Lewis ordered against your folds, the feel of his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. You look down, meeting his brown eyes, darker now, lust dripping from them. You feel your body tremble again under his gaze, but you don't dare look away. With his eyes locked on yours, he slowly slid his tongue between your folds. A loudly groan left your lips, your hands finding his braids, pulling them gently.

He repeated this gesture countless times, carrying the wetness from your entrance to your clit, intensifying your arousal. But then his tongue stopped at your sensitive clit, circling the area repeatedly and then sucking on it. A whimper escaped your lips, your hands squeezing his scalp harder now, trying to push his face against your pussy more intensely, trying to feel more of him. With that, your body burst into flames, flames cutting across your skin. You came violently, shivering and moaning his name loud and clear.

You think he's going to stop, pull away, give you some time to recover before he pushes into you. But he doesn't stop. He kept eating you relentlessly. His fingers work on you now, two of them inside of you, moving in and out quickly as his tongue sucks your clit. Everything feels more intense now, the sensations driving you off the cliff quickly. Your hip starts to move involuntarily, trying to keep up with the rhythm of his fingers. You throw your head back, eyes closed. Feel your whole body shudder, come again. The second time was even more ravishing than the first.

Your shaky legs close around Lewis' head, you couldn't take it anymore, your body had been reduced to a whimpering mess, but he didn't seem to get tired. He seemed determined to take one more orgasm out of you and so he did, taking everything out of you until you were completely spent. You were in a state of ecstasy, moaning incoherently, whispering Lewis' name over and over.

When he rises up again, you find your lover licking his lips, removing the remnants of your flavor. He also looks like a mess, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, beard damp, wet with his juices. He seems to have enjoyed it as much as you did at that moment. Always so attentive and so devoted to you, your pleasure was his too.

He holds your face with both hands, licks your lips before kissing you. When your own taste invades your senses, you moan, caressing his shoulders, reveling in the sensation. So promiscuous and dirty, but at the same time so intimate and loving.

He pulls back again, his fingers plucking at your shirt, lifts the fabric and runs it down your arms, finally stripping you naked. He looked at you intensely, appreciating your features carefully, admiring your body as if it was the first time he was seeing it. It makes your face flush and your heart beats faster in your chest. Each time you gave yourself completely to Lewis it was different, sometimes more romantic, sometimes more aggressive, but always intense, overwhelming. Each time was unique, with its own emotions, but they all ended up flooding your mind with memories of the first time he made you his. It was always new, but it was also always permeated by an old feeling, which was present every time.

"You're so fucking beautiful. I will never get tired of looking at you." He mumbles sincerely. You could never control your emotions when he talked to you like that. He knew how to balance things so well, always so good. He set you on fire and at the same time made you feel so loved. You felt your heart do somersaults in your chest.

Lewis takes his time with you, kisses your neck, your breasts, your belly, his hot tongue leaving sparks wherever he goes. You lift your body slightly, your fingers reaching for the waistband of the gray sweatshirt he was wearing. You don't think twice before pushing it down. Lewis laughs at your eagerness, pulls back a little so he can remove his pants properly.

Seeing him naked was always overwhelming, destructive. You would never get used to that sight, you could never get tired of it. Strong shoulders, hard muscles, well built. The dark tattoos, delicate lines on his skin. You move your gaze down his abdomen, until you get there. His cock felt painfully hard, throbbing against his lower abdomen. God, it was perfect. Big and thick, it felt heavy against his skin. You feel your pussy throb as your eyes focus on the light veins covering him, his head rosy and full of precum.

He comes back to you, hands tucking your thighs, keeping you open for him. His heavy cock drops between your folds, the first contact makes you moan. Lewis rubs his length there, collecting your wetness and spreading it on his cock. He repeats the movement over and over again. Your impatience grows and your body trembles beneath his, seems to break into tiny pieces every time he slides into you. You would never be able to have the same self-control, the same patience he had.

"God, can you feel it? Can you feel how fucking hard I am? How fucking hard you make me feel?" He says, eyes glued to yours. You feel your chest heat up when you hear this. He was like this because of you, always because of you.

"Jesus, Lewis" You moan, devastated, impatient. "Just fuck me" A laugh escapes his lips, a boyish smile.

"My pretty slut, always so eager to be full of me, huh?" You nod desperately. It wasn't a lie. "On all fours for me, baby," Lewis says, his voice harsh, authoritative. You promptly obey his command and turn around, get on all fours in the middle of the bed, propped up on your forearms. Belly down and ass up for him. You feel Lewis positioning himself behind you and you squirm in anticipation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like this" You hear your lover muttering. His hands touch your bum and he slaps you hard there, making you scream. He repeats the movement and you feel your skin prickling, the pleasure and pain mixing together, driving you crazy. "Gonna fuck you now, my pretty girl"

Lewis keeps his promise. You catch your breath at the feel of him entering your heat, plunging deep into you, stretching your tight pussy. "God, you're so fucking wet, baby. So tight for me" He murmurs, planting kisses down her spine before returning to his original position and sliding his length into my pussy again."Feels so fucking good". He cups the back of your head, presses your face against the mattress, and starts moving, painfully slow, deep thrusts, the way he knew drove you crazy. The room was filled with the sounds of Lewis' frames hitting your ass, his heavy balls moving back and forth in time with his thrusts. It was all extremely erotic and only made you wetter.

His hands leave his neck and reach for your disheveled hair, tugging hard on the strands, until you're upright, his chest pressed against your back. Everything looks perfect that way. The hard muscles of his abdomen pressed against you, his hot breath on your neck, strong hands gripping your waist and your hair. The new angle makes you gasp, lose your breath and all your senses. His fingers move again and reach for your chin, turning your face to the side, just enough so he could kiss your lips. He keeps moving at a torturously slow pace, reaching deep inside you. You gasp into his mouth.

Lewis moves his hand from your waist to your sensitive clit, rubbing the area ruthlessly as he thrusts. You parted your lips from his to moan his name out loud as a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over his body.

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum. Shit, I'm gonna fucking cum" You can't control yourself and come, squeezing his length, soaking him in your juices.

"That's it, baby. Soak daddy's dick just like that." He murmurs in your ear, bites the earlobe, then licks the side of your neck. You throw your head on his shoulder as he fucks you through your orgasm, fighting to control himself, to make that moment last, to give you as much pleasure as he can.

You screamed in surprise as he laid your body down on the mattress again, his body falling on top of your right after, choking you in the best way he could. Lewis' strong muscles covered your body, his hands reached for yours and held them. He pushed his hips back into you, his rhythm now fast, relentless, just the way he liked it. You try to roll your hips beside him, just fast as he's doing.

"You like it rough, don't you, baby girl?" He whispers, a russky voice in your ear. You feel a lonely tear running down your cheek, the pleasure so hard it makes you cry. You felt your pussy tighten around him again and you came once more, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

Lewis couldn't control himself this time, your pussy clenching so tight on his cock he couldn't hold back anymore. "I'm gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna let you full of me one more time." And with that, he came deep inside you, his hot cum painting your soft walls. A deep, almost animalistic moan escaped his lips.

Countless minutes pass and you both lie in bed the same way, Lewis's heavy body crushing yours, his cock writhing, pulsing inside you. You could stay like this for the rest of your life, you think. But at some point he moves, his cock sliding out of you. Both of you sigh at the loss of contact.

He lies down on the mattress again, pulls you to lie on top of him. Your head against his chest, his legs tangled with yours. You feel his cock, still semi-hard against your thigh. It makes you sigh.

His heartbeat is against your palm. His heart is beating in a smooth rhythm, his breathing controlled. His hands reach for your back, fingers running up and down your skin, imaginary designs being made there. You smile, inert, and feel him doing the same. Watch the horizon in front of you, the dark sky through the big bedroom windows, feel the cool breeze coming through them.

Lying there, on his chest, feeling his body hug yours, you felt in the right place. All you needed was right here, snuggling with you, you didn't need the world's acceptance. A feeling of peace took over your body, your eyelids began to feel heavy and closed. You could hear Lewis's quiet breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly. An "I love you" is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you

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cold-dragon-europehsr2 · 1 year ago

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𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 (𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬)

A/N: First time doing this and fic for Big Boss. Will do more if I have the time for them.

Requested by: No one

Pairing: Big Boss X Fem!Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟔𝟏𝟕 (𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔)

⚠️Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NSFW (obviously)

╰────────༺🐍༻────────╯

🐍A >>> Aftercare🐍(what they're like after sex)

Snake is the type of person, who after intercourse, would have zero energy. Look away for just a minute, then back over, and he's already sitting up in bed with a cig in his mouth. He always tells you that smoking calms his nerves, but you don't believe him.

🐍B >>> Body part🐍(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

For himself, it's his tongue. For you, it's your pussy and thighs. Very easy to figure out where this part gets headed.

🐍C >>> Cum🐍(anything to do with cum, basically)

Warm and semi-sticky, has the consistency of Clover honey (minus the clear part). It tastes semi-bitter, but a sweet aftertaste makes up for it.

🐍D >>> Dirty secret🐍(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Whenever he takes a shower alone, he mixes a little bit of your conditioner with his body wash and rubs that concoction all over his dick. Obviously with both hands to get the simulation of your pussy.

🐍E >>> Experience🐍(how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Big Boss has experience and knows what he's doing, but he needs some coaching getting back used to it.

🐍F >>> Favorite position🐍(this goes without saying)

🐍G >>> Goofy🐍(are they more serious during the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It's a very serious matter for him and doesn't fool around.

🐍H >>> Hair🐍(how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

He's well groomed down there per say, but does leave a bit of a hair trailing from his belly button to the base of his cock. It's relatively thin, but it's like his beard hair (all scruffy and scratchy).

🐍I >>> Intimacy🐍(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When it comes to intimacy with Snake, he focuses on one thing and one thing only: cumming into you so he can feel less deprived of touch and pussy. Like I said, a very serious matter for him.

🐍J >>> Jack off🐍(masturbation headcanon)

When he's alone at home, he will jack off in the shower. Sometimes he'll jack off in your bed a little too far and cum into one of your pillow cases.

🐍K >>> Kink🐍(one or more of their kinks)

Dominance, panty, and outdoor sex kinks.

🐍L >>> Location🐍(favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere around the house, really (the bedroom and kitchen being his preferred). Out in public, it's a quickie up against the women's bathroom sink or a back alley.

🐍M >>> Motivation🐍(what turns them on, gets them going)

Either you being intoxicated or when the heat in the house gets unbearable in the summer time, you strip down naked in front of him to cool down.

🐍N >>> No🐍(something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Big Boss hates when you wear overpowering perfume, yet he can stand the smell of his own cigars. He also hates when you're being over obsessively clingy (Snake needs his personal space too).

🐍O >>> Oral🐍(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn't have a preference.

🐍P >>> Pace🐍(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace varies. If it's been a day or two, he'll go slow and take his time. If it's been a couple weeks to a month, he can go feral (aka really fast and rough, nearly destroying your pussy).

🐍Q >>> Quickie🐍(their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Every once in a while, Snake will do a quickie, but that solely depends on the location for when he gets horny (like if you're both at a party and he needs to "take care of something").

🐍R >>> Risk🐍(are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He normally doesn't do this, just keeps the same routine everytime no matter the location. Once in a great while, he will try something new.

🐍S >>> Stamina🐍(how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Big Boss has quite a bit of stamina, can last about 3 or 4 rounds.

🐍T >>> Toys🐍(do they own toys? do they use them?)

He's not really the type of guy who uses sex toys and doesn't own any.

🐍U >>> Unfair🐍(how much they like to tease)

Snake isn't that good at teasing, but he tries his best when he's drunk.

🐍V >>> Volume🐍(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Big Boss is Big Boss, so expect him to be loud. On days when he's not feeling it or tired, he's a bit vocal, but not too much.

🐍W >>> Wild card🐍(a random headcanon for the character)

Two words: pussy eating.

🐍X >>> X-ray🐍(let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Big Boss is a GIRTHY 8 1/2 inches. Don't ask on how you manage to fit most that in your mouth when you go for blowjobs on him.

🐍Y >>> Yearning🐍(how high is their sex drive?)

This man gets touch and pussy deprived after just one and a half weeks without intimacy, so a high sex drive for him.

🐍Z >>> Zzz🐍(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Expect him to be awake for the next few hours, since he's too busy smoking. Need I say more?

#tokyo chainsaw dragon #tokyo dragon smut #metal gear #metal gear solid #mgs #metal gear smut #metal gear headcanons #metal gear series #metal gear x reader #metal gear big boss #big boss mgs #mgs big boss #big boss #big boss x reader #big boss x fem!reader #big boss x you

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naeverse · 2 years ago

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Extra Credit

🏫staring. Professor O’Hara x Sassy fem!reader

🎒 preview: “Do you agree, Y/N? Will you help me help you?"

🖋️Summary: Miguel O'Hara, a renowned, attractive genetics professor, known for his strict stance against extra credit. As a senior, you struggle to keep up with coursework and Mr. O'Hara's opposition to extra credit makes it difficult for you to pass. However, a chance encounter with you changes everything, as Mr. O'Hara becomes more open to helping you - but you must help him in return.

📕tw/cw. unprotected sex, harsh language, hate sex, rough, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, oral sex, spanking, accidental simulation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Miguel, mutual orgasm, etc…

📘pet names: (hers) little puta or puta (Little bitch, bitch), Muñeca (Doll)

✏️ rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

📖Word count: 5.3k words

🍎 Credit to Artist in header: Narutoss.ramen

Genetics...

Why the hell did you decide to take this class?

That was the question swirling in your mind as you sat in your genetics college lecture, stifling a yawn.

This was, without a doubt, your most dreaded class.

The workload was overwhelming, the subject matter mind-numbingly tedious, and worst of all, it just didn't capture your interest. No matter how hard you tried, it felt like your relationship with your genetics class was doomed from the start.

So, it came as no surprise that you were struggling in the course...

You reclined in your chair, legs propped up on the desk, wearing a pair of knee-high leather boots adorned with belts and straps. A black crop top with "Baby Girl" written in cursive across your chest covered your torso, while a long-sleeve fishnet shirt was layered underneath. Below, you sported a black and white flannel skirt held in place by a snug belt that accentuated your waist and curves. The skirt was perhaps a tad too short, that with a slight shift of your legs could give a tantalizing glimpse of the black thong you wore underneath.

You were a troublemaker, unapologetically sowing chaos and taking pleasure in the discomfort of others. Manipulating people's emotions, capitalizing on their vulnerabilities, and hurling insults were all routine for you, and you reveled in it.

However, nothing quite compared to the joy you found in getting under the skin of your genetics professor…

Mr. Miguel O'Hara.

The imposing figure entered the classroom, firmly closing the door behind himself. For most, his mere presence was enough to command respect and instill fear…

But not for you.

You couldn't help but smirk as you observed his stoic, tanned face, his curly, dark brown hair flowing to the back of his head, the black spectacles concealing his amber eyes, and his muscular frame neatly dressed in a simple white polo shirt, black tie, black slacks, and leather oxfords. Even his black bookbag appeared dwarfed by his imposing figure. As he made his way through the rows of desks, greeting his students with a grunt.

Mr. O'Hara was a man on the edge, stressed beyond belief. He had to wrangle with four different classes of young adults, all seemingly indifferent to his efforts to teach genetics. They attended his class merely to mark their presence, spending their time either dozing off, chatting, or glued to their phones during his lectures.

Countless students had been kicked out of his class due to the disrespect they showed him, but it had reached a point where it seemed futile to do so anymore.

As the days passed, the number of students disrespecting him only grew, and it was no wonder that he dreaded walking into the classroom. The exhaustion and stress etched into his features, with drooping shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, and the ever-increasing wrinkles on his tanned face were visible proof of the toll it took on him after each lecture.

He walked by your desk as you smiled at him. "Good Afternoon Mr. Grumpy!" You exclaimed, causing a few laughs to ripple through the students at your comment. Mr. O'Hara groaned, placing his bag down onto the floor by his desk.

Mr. O'Hara was already annoyed; he had barely had enough sleep last night and was running on only three hours of rest after staying up late to grade these dreadful students' assignments.

He wasn't in the mood for your antics today...

"Y/N, are you planning on being like this the entire semester? Because I just might have to drop you if that's the case," Mr. O'Hara said coldly, turning around to face the girl who was smirking back at him.

You giggled at his threat. "Oh, Mr. O'Hara, but you told me that last time, and guess what?" You held up your hands, looking around the class with a smirk. "Looks like I'm still here." Mr. O'Hara rolled his eyes, ignoring you as he walked to the small podium in front of the room where he would take attendance.

"Okay... when I say your name, I need you to say 'here,' and only 'here,'" he said, his glare directed at you, causing you to chuckle. Mr. O'Hara began going down the list, calling out many students' names, and receiving replies ranging from "here" to "present" to complete silence.

"Lastly...

Y/N."

You couldn't help but wear a mischievous smile. You’ve been waiting for this moment.

"Yes, I'm present today, Mr. Grumpy Gorilla."

Mr. O'Hara clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the pen in his hand. His hand trembled with anger as he pressed the pen's tip harshly onto the paper, marking a check beside your name. It was taking every ounce of his self-control not to lose his temper with the girl who seemed determined to test his patience to its breaking point.

He exhaled deeply, doing his best to ignore your presence as he scanned the classroom. "Okay, good. Everyone is here," he announced, moving his podium out of the way to begin his lecture.

"So, in our last class, we discussed what genetics is, its significance, and why it is important to be studied," Mr. O'Hara said, moistening his lips. His well-built figure strode over to the whiteboard, where he picked up a dark blue marker.

"To kickstart your minds this afternoon, here's your introductory question:

How do genes work?"

He voiced the question while writing it on the board. As Mr. O'Hara spoke, your gaze lazily trained on his muscular backside whilst he wrote on the board. Your eyelids were on the verge of closing any second.

Surveying the rest of the class, you noticed some students had already succumbed to sleep, others were absorbed into their phones, and only a handful seemed to be actively engaged with the imposing, tanned instructor at the front of the room.

"So, does anyone here know what a gene is?" Mr. O'Hara asked the class, turning around to see only two raised hands; the rest seemed utterly disinterested.

'I don't get paid enough for this.'

He thought with a heavy sigh. Running a frustrated hand through his dark brown curls, he continued scanning the class until his gaze settled on a girl at the back, her hand raised high. He pointed at her, prompting a smile to spread across her face as she began to respond.

"Genes are the basic units of heredity... blah, blah, blah."

You rolled your eyes, slumping lower into your seat. This girl was a living and breathing Siri, reciting what sounded like a paragraph straight from Google search itself.

Once the girl finished her detailed explanation, you raised a finger. Mr. O'Hara hesitated to acknowledge you, but he did so anyway. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Out of everything that girl said, was any of that important? I kinda zoned out after the word 'genes...'"

Mr. O'Hara sighed, giving the girl in the back of the class who answered his question an apologetic glance. He rested his hands on his hips, turning his stern gaze back onto you. "Everything she said was, in fact, important," his voice was firm and cold.

"Maybe if you actually came to my class to learn, you'll actually be interested in what your classmates are saying," Mr. O'Hara said, pushing his black eyeglasses up his nose and placing the marker he had in his hand into his pocket. He glanced down at the back of the annoying girl's black boots resting on her desk, a scowl pulling at his lips. "And get your feet off your desk. You're not at home."

You rolled your eyes and begrudgingly placed your feet on the floor, but your expression remained unfazed as you locked eyes with Mr. O'Hara. For a brief moment, he couldn't help but savor this small victory over the challenging student.

You hummed nonchalantly, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. As you snickered at Mr. O'Hara's faint, prideful expression on his face, you couldn't resist adding, "You had your moment, I'll give you that, but don't get too comfortable...

Class isn't up yet, Mr. O."

Your tone held a hint of amusement, which only further irritated Mr. O'Hara.

This woman was unbelievably infuriating. It seemed like she had a comeback for everything, and it was driving him up the wall.

"Just sit there and be quiet. Let me teach the people who want to listen," he spat, his tanned face contorted with anger. "At least be like the ones who don't give a damn and stay silent."

You raised your hands in mock surrender. "My bad, my bad. Didn't mean to ruin your victory moment," you said sarcastically.

Mr. O'Hara let out a frustrated sigh and continued with his lecture on genes and how they worked, determined to get through the material regardless of your antics.

Mr. O'Hara was quite surprised. You remained astonishingly quiet for the rest of his lecture, which was a rare occurrence. He managed to finish his teaching earlier than usual, allowing the students some time to work on their assignments before the class ended.

Mr. O'Hara settled in front of his computer, launching the spreadsheets for his classes, eager to resume grading the remaining assignments that had kept him awake throughout the night.

In contrast, you let out a sigh, showing no interest in working on your assignment. Instead, you rocked back and forth on the back legs of your chair.

'Well, this class is boring as hell,'

You thought, casting a glance around the room to see some students diligently working on their assignments, while others were following your lead…

Slacking off.

You chewed your bubble gum, your eyes landing on Mr. O'Hara, who sat at his desk with hooded eyes, peering at the screen in front of him through his black spectacles.

A mischievous smirk crossed your face.

'This should be fun.'

You pushed your chair back and stood up, the belts on your boots jiggling as you walked over to Mr. O'Hara's desk. Even before you reached him, you could hear him mutter under his breath.

“Oh, mi maldito Dios”

His hand ran frustratingly over his face, a clear sign of his annoyance. You hopped onto his desk, your skirt riding up your thighs. Mr. O'Hara sighed, leaning back in his seat, looking at you, his expression making it evident that he wasn't in the mood for any distractions.

"What do you want?" he asked, his irritation palpable.

You shrugged your shoulders, a smirk playing on your lips. "Nothing really..."

Mr. O'Hara scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation. "If you don't want anything, go back to your seat. I'm grading, and you can't be over here," he sternly said, turning his attention back to his computer, determined to resume his work.

You swung your legs, absentmindedly poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. Your gaze drifted down to the stack of papers Mr. O'Hara was currently grading, and you recognized it as the test from last week.

'I probably bombed that shit,'

You thought, recalling just how challenging the test had been. You glanced back over at Mr. O'Hara, who was staring sternly at his computer screen. His intense gaze made it seem like he was angry at his monitor.

"Have you graded mine yet? Your test last week was really fucking hard," you said with a chuckle. Mr. O'Hara groaned, fully aware that if he just did what you wanted, you'd leave him in peace.

"Yeah, I have," he replied, hastily changing spreadsheets to access your afternoon class. He knew you were likely eager to know your score.

You waited patiently, your gaze shifting from Mr. O'Hara's stoic face to the side of his computer monitor.

Mr. O'Hara quickly located your name, intending to show you your overall grade in his class along with your latest scores on assignments and tests. He turned his monitor towards you, ensuring that only the two of you could see your grades.

You peered over at the monitor, leaning in so close to Mr. O'Hara that your sweet perfume filled his senses. It took him by surprise, leaving him momentarily speechless.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing. "Mr. O, are you going to walk me through this?"

Your words snapped him out of his trance. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. Using his finger, he pointed to the 58% you had received on your test the previous week.

"Y/N, as you can see, you've scored below the standard I expect," he said, watching as you grimaced at the score. Your reaction actually shocked him.

"Damn, what's my overall score?" You asked, your eyes locking with Mr. O'Hara's. His heart and stomach did something at the contact.

He hastily faced his computer, backing out of your test grade to show your overall score.

Using his finger, he pointed, once again, at the screen, bringing to your attention the 42% that showed your overall grade for his course.

"You might want to consider putting more effort into your work, and in actively listening during my lectures.” Mr. O’Hara’s voice stern as after showing your scores, he went back to grading. He was ready for you to leave him be and go back to your seat.

But you did no such thing…

You clicked your tongue. "Well, shit." You glanced over at Mr. O'Hara, who seemed to be determined to focus his attention solely on grading. You looked down at your lap with a worried expression.

‘Shit, I need to pass his class to graduate this year. These are the last credits I need,' You thought, biting your lip as you pondered your situation.

'It's too far into the year to change classes, and I'm sure as hell not waiting another year to graduate,'

You huffed, glancing over at Mr. O'Hara, who was examining a student's test packet, his eyes fixed on the stapled papers.

"What is it?" he coldly inquired, noticing your gaze on him.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. "You're not one to offer makeup work or extra credit, are you?" you inquired, crossing your legs, causing your skirt to ride up your thighs even higher.

Mr. O'Hara closed the packet he had been examining and shot you an annoyed glance. However, when his eyes fell upon your legs, he was taken aback.

The sight left him momentarily stunned...

Your legs were...

His eyes widened.

Exquisite.

The skin appeared silky and smooth, plush and soft. An almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch them washed over him, expecting them to feel as soft as marshmallows under his fingers.

Your legs were indeed a captivating sight…

His heart skipped a beat, and a blush crept up on his face.

He took a deep breath, turning his attention back to the test packet, hoping to hide the faint blush that had crept onto his cheeks. He cleared his throat, aiming to maintain a professional and firm tone. "No, I don't offer makeup work or extra credit. You know that Y/N."

You sighed once more, your desperation palpable. "Come on, Mr. O, not even a single extra credit assignment?" you implored. You refused to accept no for an answer. "I mean, you saw my grade, Mr. O. I really need the help," you whispered to Mr. O’Hara, your tone hushed.

Mr. O'Hara let out a deep sigh, his frustration clearly evident as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of your unrelenting persistence. It was becoming increasingly clear that your behavior was getting under his skin.

Even if he occasionally offered extra credit, the thought of extending that courtesy to you didn't sit well with him. After all, you had entered his class and proceeded to insult your classmates, which had only succeeded in aggravating him further. He couldn't help but be surprised that you suddenly seemed so invested in your grades.

Desperately attempting to refocus on his grading, he did his best to ignore your continuous pleas. However, strangely, his attention kept wandering elsewhere. In his peripheral vision, he couldn't help but notice your thighs, which appeared incredibly smooth under your short flannel skirt. It was apparent that this outfit likely violated every dress code on campus.

As he grappled with the conflict between concentrating on his work and being distracted by your constant appeals and your captivating appearance.

After a while of pleading, you decided to give up, feeling the frustration building inside you as it became apparent that Mr. O'Hara had no intention of helping you.

"Fine then..." you muttered under your breath, hopping off his desk. Unfortunately, as you made your exit, your hand accidentally bumped against Mr. O'Hara's black pencil holder, sending his numerous writing tools scattering onto the ground, along with the case.

"Shit," you cursed quietly, realizing the mess you had inadvertently created. Your outburst drew the attention of everyone in the classroom, briefly interrupting their activities before they returned to their tasks.

The accident appeared to push Mr. O'Hara over the edge. He was already struggling with distractions and inner conflict, and the disruption only added to his stress. With a groan, he stood up from his chair, muttering to himself in frustration, "Me voy a volver jodidamente loco," as he began to kneel down and clean up the spilled writing tools.

However, as he glanced up, what he saw left him wide-eyed with surprise. Before him, you were on your hands and knees, helping him pick up the pencils and pens that had fallen. But it wasn't the act itself that shocked him.

It was something else entirely...

Your back was turned to him, and your arching posture thrust your luscious bottom into the air, affording him an unobstructed view of your enticing rear.

Mr. O'Hara couldn't help but notice that your ass was clad in a black thong, which, unfortunately, did little to conceal your exposed cheeks beneath the black and white flannel skirt.

Mr. O'Hara found himself frozen, and completely speechless

He couldn't discern whether it was his prolonged abstinence from sexual activity that had left him in this state, but his thoughts spiraled into a maelstrom of naughty and lustful fantasies.

His mind became filled with improper and dirty visions of you:

Images of you on your knees before him, with his substantial member in your mouth as you expertly accommodated it, taking him in the depths of your throat...

Thoughts of him spanking you into submission. Your plump bottom turning red after every smack of his hand as he relished in your body trembling in pleasure and pain…

Thoughts of his hand wrapped around your gorgeous neck whilst he fucked you senselessly. Your velvet walls sucking him in as he had his way with you.

Mr. O’Hara licked his lips.

He soon snapped out of his thoughts when he observed you bending over once more to retrieve another pencil, offering him yet another view, but this time, of your clothed pussy.

He almost salivated at the sight…

"Damn, why do you have so many pens and pencils?" You said in annoyance, standing up on your knees to place the last few in the pencil holder before getting to your feet.

Mr. O'Hara cleared his throat, making an effort to regain his composure and expel any inappropriate thoughts or desires of you and your body from his mind.

Mr. O'Hara had a reputation on campus for being one of the attractive professors. Being in his early 30s, many college students believed they had a chance with the genetics professor.

On a daily basis, many students tried to get his attention, whether by staring at him for a moment too long, touching his hand when exchanging things, buying him gifts, lunch, and snacks, dropping things to kneel before him so they could come face to face with his crotch, or leaning in during conversations to display their cleavage in the hopes of catching his eye.

Mr. O’Hara was used to women trying to get his attention and seeing explicit things like this…

So why was it so different with you?

Because Mr. O'hara knew damn well that your actions weren't intentional…

You had a sour relationship with Mr. O'Hara. You'll piss him off, he'll yell at you and use all of his willpower to keep from throwing something across the room.

That was your relationship...

He hated you.

You hated him.

So he knew you didn't purposely flash him…

And that was the problem…

Mr. O'Hara was still in shock, observing as you placed the black pencil holder onto his desk and then stood nearby, beginning to dust off your outfit.

Soon, he recalled your previous question about the number of writing tools he had. He cleared his throat, averted his gaze to the ground, and noticed another pen nearby. On his knees, he leaned over to pick it up, the dark blue pen appearing rather small in his massive hand.

"It's normal... Every teacher has plenty of them," Mr. O’Hara finally muttered. He stood to his full seven-foot height and moved to insert the two he had retrieved into the pencil holder, then returned to his computer chair.

He attempted to divert his attention away from your physique, striving to put the recent sight behind him, but that skirt...

That skirt was too damn short, irresistibly drawing his gaze back to your enticing thighs and igniting a stream of inappropriate, and lewd thoughts once more.

Mr. O’Hara shifted his attention to his computer, avoiding eye contact with you. "Y/N, I believe we need to address your dress code violation,” he stated.

You groaned inwardly at his words.

'Dress code violation, my ass,'

You thought, rolling your eyes. You believed that dress codes on college campuses were nonsensical. After all, you were an adult.

"What's the issue?" you asked, placing your hands on your hips. Mr. O’Hara glanced over at you, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"The dress code explicitly states that skirts cannot be shorter than three inches above the knee. If your skirt remains like this, I'll have no choice but to send you home, and you'll automatically fail my class," he explained.

Mr. O’Hara struggled to maintain professionalism, but his desire continued to cloud his thoughts, drawing his gaze back to your legs.

You couldn't care less about the genetics class, but this was your final year at this wretched college, and you weren't willing to be set back another year over a skirt.

"I'm sorry, Mr. O, but I don't have a change of clothes," you said with a feigned pout, then flashed a bright smile at Mr. O'Hara. "How about you let me off on a tiny, little warning, okay?" you asked, resting your hands on his desk.

He sighed, clearly frustrated by your attempt to evade the dress code violation. Mr. O’Hara knew your excuse probably wasn’t a lie, but your legs were undeniably distracting.

It was stirring up emotions he hadn't experienced in years, and it was genuinely bothering him.

Mr. O’Hara glanced over at you, finding you still smiling at him, hoping for his leniency. His eyes momentarily strayed towards your cleavage that peeked out from the dip in your crop top and down to your inviting thighs.

Suddenly, a voice emerged in the back of his head, a seductive and enticing thought that didn't want you to change. He found himself actually enjoying the way you looked...

‘At least I’ll have something to look at for the rest of class.’

Mr. O'Hara sighed softly, his gaze momentarily leaving his computer screen to address you. "Just this once, I'll let you stay. Don't make it a habit," he remarked, his tone stern. "But do ensure that you don't expose yourself too much."

You responded with a broad smile to his words, glancing down and realizing that your skirt had once again ridden up your legs, revealing more than you intended. In a hurry, you adjusted it.

Flashing someone in class had never been your intention; you simply thought the outfit was cute and wanted to wear it.

Flustered, you muttered, "Shit, my bad" not even realizing how high your skirt had risen.

Mr. O'Hara glanced at you as you adjusted your skirt, and before you drew the fabric down, he had caught a sight of your black, clothed mound.

He quickly turned his head, his ears reddening whilst he tried to focus on his computer. Mr. O’Hara was making every effort to distract himself from the dirty thoughts of you and your stunning thighs and pussy.

Mr. O’Hara cleared his throat, his gaze trained on the monitor as he attempted to resume what he was doing prior to being disturbed. “Y/N, just be sure to be more aware of what your body is showing in the future.”

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," you replied, waving your hand dismissively as you returned to your seat. With a groan, you slumped into your chair, your gaze instantly fixed on the wall clock in Mr. O'Hara's classroom.

You still had twenty minutes left in this boring, ass class...

Another frustrated sigh escaped your lips. You knew the next few minutes were going to be dreadful...

The next few minutes were, in fact, filled with torture and torment for you and Mr. O'Hara.

He was desperately trying to grade and do his work, but he physically couldn't.

That moment just wouldn't leave his mind...

Your ass, presented clear as day to him.

Your cheeks plump, round, and squeezed by your black thong, and…

Your clothed pussy…

His entire body always felt a wave of heat and tingles run through him at the recollection. He had to put his pen down and take a breath.

Mr. O'Hara sat back in his seat and shut his eyes for a brief moment, a deep exhale passing his lips.

When he opened them, his amber-crimson eyes slowly drifted across the classroom, taking in the diligent students who were busily doing their work, and then the little shits who were asleep, typing on their phones, or daydreaming off into space.

And it was one of those little shits that caught his eye...

You…

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair while chewing the end of your pencil in thought. Your legs were crossed over one another as you balanced on your chair's back legs.

Mr. O’Hara continued to stare at you

He couldn't help it...

The more he looked, the more appealing every aspect of you seemed to become.

The black crop top that covered your torso had the phrase "Babygirl" written in cursive across the front. It hugged your body just right and really accentuated your breasts. Your eyes were so gorgeous as you focused them on the wall clock before you.

The black, long-sleeve fishnet shirt you wore underneath your top hid the minor amount of skin of your stomach. Your stunning abdomen, concealed by the fishnet material, teased any male who desired a good look. On your waist, you wore a thick leather belt that squeezed your frame perfectly, emphasizing your marvelous curves.

As he continued to look at you, Mr. O'Hara's breathing became heavier, his eyes traveling down your body.

Mr. O'Hara was thanking you more and more for wearing that short black and white flannel skirt. Your thighs, with their soft tissue pressing delectably on your seat, were clearly visible to him as the fabric barely covered your bottom.

You legs were crossed under your desk, and the pose made your limbs look even more appealing, and Mr. O'Hara couldn't explain it, but when he actually saw the black boots that adorned your feet, his stomach nearly did a backflip.

The numerous belts and straps on the black, knee-high boots gave you a rather badass appearance that increased your attractiveness in Mr. O'Hara's eyes.

Mr. O'Hara didn't realize how long he had been staring at you aimlessly. He bit his bottom lip in desire, his black dress pants started to get fairly tight around his growing arousal in his pants.

“Beep-Beep!”

Mr. O’Hara jumped at the sound of his own phone alarm, signaling that his last class for the day was finally over.

His eyes immediately landed on you, who was grinning broadly in response to the alarm. You quickly got up from your seat and started stuffing your bookbag with your things.

His mind was racing at the sight.

His thoughts were filled once more with lewd thoughts of you. His erection in his pants, begging for attention.

Then a wicked idea came to him…

He knew his idea was dirty, and cruel, but he needed some type of release.

Mr. O'Hara inhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and his eyes fell on you as you were packing your purple book bag with your journal. He spoke loudly so that he could be heard over the students' many conversations and movements.

“Y/N."

You had a huge grin on your face, ecstatic that this horrid class was over and that you could finally go home and do absolutely nothing.

Then, you heard your name being called by Mr. O’Hara, and you couldn't help but display an annoyed expression.

'What does he want?'

You thought, turning your gaze to him. “Mr. O?” you called back to him, placing your purple bookbag in your lap and zipping it up.

Mr. O’Hara cleared his throat, licking his lips as he tried to find the right words. His intentions were highly unprofessional, but he still found himself wanting to proceed with his plan.

'Fuck it...'

His amber-crimson eyes peered at you through his black spectacles, meeting your curious, annoyed, and confused face.

“I need you to stay after class.”

Your stomach dropped, disbelief washing over you. Anger and annoyance began to build up inside. You sighed heavily in irritation, your intense gaze locked onto your genetics professor. “What for!?” You shouted, clearly agitated.

Mr. O’Hara tried to interject, “Y/N-”

But you didn’t let him finish and continued your rant.

“Is it because I was slacking off!?” You exclaimed, hastily shoving your belongings into your bookbag.

“Y/N, if you will just let me-” Mr. O’Hara tried once again to explain, but you were so lost in your own head that you persisted.

“If this is about my damn skirt, I thought we talked about it!” you exclaimed. “I swear you are just so wishy-washy, Mr. O. You can’t tell me you're letting me slide, only to force me to stay after class. Like, make up your damn mind.” You glared at him with frustration.

You were furious that Mr. O’Hara was holding you back while the other students were free to leave through the classroom door.

Mr. O’Hara sighed heavily, rolling his eyes at your predictable reaction. His plan was already feeling like a mistake.

‘What the hell am I doing? Y/N!? Out of all the students on campus!?’

He thought with anger, frustration, and a touch of disappointment and shame.

‘Why did it have to be you?!’

He groaned inwardly, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He desperately wished to halt this before things escalated, but an inner voice of desire urged him to continue.

"If you'd allow me to explain, Y/N, you'll understand that my reason for keeping you after class has nothing to do with those assumptions." Mr. O'Hara said sternly, gazing at you through his black spectacles. Your eyebrows furrowed as you studied the tanned genetics professor in confusion.

"Then why, Mr. O?" Mr. O'Hara cleared his throat, briefly glancing at your body before absentmindedly fiddling with a few paperclips and papers on his desk. His attention was no longer on you.

“Y/N… I would like for you to stay behind after class to...

Discuss your grade.”

Your fiery anger soon gave way for hope and joy.

You believed that Mr. O’Hara might actually want to assist you with your wretched scores, and you were willing to do whatever it took to bring your grade up…

“Okay…” you replied with a tentative smile.

Mr. O’Hara nodded before quickly turning back to his computer, cheeks tinged with a deep shade of red.

His plan was proceeding smoothly so far…

Very Smoothly...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted soon!

Hope you enjoyed the first part of my first one shot! ✌🙃❤

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman atsv #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader smut #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel smut #Miguel

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