#I have had this stuck in my head for almost three days

[juno-of-wonderland]

Monster au: The Hybrid Lord route [ending 1 (part 1)]

warning: the reader for this route has been drawn (just like the previous one) and will be FtM, blood and injury.

List tag: @112-darling, @rain112-darling, @callmedarling112, @mushroomfrog203

You shake your head, letting go of the bad feeling and approach the flower, crouching down and touching the thin yellow petals. A strange noise was made to the left and no matter how fast you were, you couldn't avoid what was coming; a heavy, hard mass hit your face, throwing you backwards. Due to your imbalance, you fell rolling down a ravine, your body colliding with rocks and roots, tearing your clothes and skin. You heard a thud before you fell. Your head was confused, spinning and your vision threatened to go dark. Supporting your hands on the ground, you try to get up, but your body is sore and your face is burning and hurting, your eyes sting with tears, you fall. Before you lose consciousness, you hear screams and more screams, then everything goes black.

…

You opened your eyes, grunting in pain, you turned your body so that you were on your back, looking through the hole you fell through, you realized that it was already day. You cough your nose before slowly getting up, you sit down and look at that giant den, earth, branches, stone, sinister eyes in the darkness, earth and… Your head slowly turned to look at your eyes, damn it, maybe you really did invade someone's den. The sinister green glow didn't leave your direction and you couldn't make out much of anything because it was in the darkest part of that hole. "Uh… yeah… look, I swear I didn't mean to invade your den, something hit me and I fell here" you said to the thing. You heard a snort and then "herbivores" was spoken. First mental note, the creature can talk, second note, it's apparently male, third note, it's full of itself and you don't like it very much, fourth note, probably, almost certainly, it's some carnivore and you need to get out of its sight if you don't want to become dinner. You moved further away from him, dragging your butt on the ground, until your hand touched something delicate. You looked back and it was the dandelion flower! It was a little crushed and had missing petals, but it must still be useful for something. You looked for your bag to put it away, but you didn't see it anywhere on the ground. So, hesitantly, you looked up. There it was, stuck on a branch that you couldn't reach. "You've got to be kidding me," you muttered. Taking the flower and putting it in a large pocket of your pants, you regretted not being able to keep it in a better place. You walked in circles for a few minutes, thinking of ways to get out and always keeping an eye on what was with you in that hole. Your first and only idea was to climb. One hand grabbed a mound of dirt and one foot climbed on another. You managed to climb three sections before the earth crumbled and you fell, swallowing dirt in the process. You spat and tried to get the taste off your tongue. The creature didn't laugh, but you could feel how amused he was with the situation. "I want to see you do better to get out of here," you muttered. Sitting on the floor, you couldn't think of anything else. You just stood there, watching the clouds pass by, comparing them to things you knew. Belatedly, you noticed blood on the floor. It turned your stomach. At noon, that hole looked like an oven, and your prisoner seemed to agree. If his few grumbles were because of that, maybe that's why he's been in the dark since you woke up. You also wanted to go into the shadows, but your instincts told you it was dangerous, and this time you decided it would be better to stay between the light and the darkness.

"Hey," you said in the midst of boredom, and as expected, there was no answer. "Do you own this place or are you trapped here too?" Silence. "Is that blood on the floor yours?" I can help you, I have this” you show the flower “and some other things in my bag to help you” You felt his eyes on your hand, they were intense and contemplative. “At dusk” he said. You were confused, but accepted the strange situation. As soon as night fell, you waited, with your stomach growling loudly, God, you thought you would faint from weakness at any moment. Staring at the emerald eyes that shone in the darkness, you witnessed them come up from the ground, which indicates that the creature had been lying down this whole time. He came out of hiding, getting closer and closer, you could now see his body, all the wounds and his shape, his lion ears and tail, even dirty and injured, he was breathtaking, but as expected, he looked at you like a prince would look at his poor servant. He held out his open palm, you plucked a petal and handed it to him, which made him frown. “That’s not enough,” he said. “It heals more than you can imagine.” “Maybe a human, but not a vampire, could give me that flower or I’d use your blood to get out of here.” Oh, ohhh, that explains why he has to wait until nightfall, but why isn’t he regenerating on his own? Maybe the weapons that wounded him had something in them… do vampires have animal ears? You hesitated, despite the threat, to hand over the flower, it was such a rare item! But you could never get out on your own, you gave the flower and waited for him to be willing and, after healing himself, to take you out of there too. The vampire swallowed the flower whole, you noticed the sand near his feet molding and the wounds accelerating their healing process slightly, he looked at you and you looked back. Suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was close, very close. Before you knew it, you were already out, thrown on the ground, the man standing next to you, just standing in place, then he falls to the ground, unconscious… you wonder what you did to end up in a situation like this.

(part 2)

[nota-professional]

oh golly, the road's getting bumpy, consensus!

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 

It was him. 

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 

Fuck. 

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 

“I would,” 

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 

Fuck. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 

But how can you be quiet? 

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 

He’s huge. 

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 

He was too much. 

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 

“What are you—” 

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 

“Mahito—“ 

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 

“I will,” 

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 

“Have another lesson?” 

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 

You were picking up your boyfriend. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

[velvrei]

can you please do like enemies to lovers that ends in smut with logan???? the face riding one you posted was SO GOOD. 

a/n at the end

tell me more

pairing: logan howlett x reader

summary: you and logan HATE each other. you are stuck in the void for a few days, and when you get out, it’s too late to go anywhere so you stay at wade’s place with logan. in the spare bedroom. with one bed.

word count: 8k

warnings: smut, rough sex, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, degradation, switch!logan, mentions of blood and death, dance fighting, wade & his sexual comments

a/n: beware this is not proofread i’m too lazy

nsfw below the cut!

you disliked logan from the moment you met him. the two of you met through wade, your best friend and partner.

meanwhile, wade had a new best friend and partner in logan howlett. normally, jealousy would arise in such a circumstance, but it only created mini-competitions between the two of you.

the three of you were in the void. you were sitting in a chair, painting your toe-nails as you watched logan and wade fight to get their anger out.

you giggled as logan stabbed wade repeatedly with his claws, just sitting back and watching the show.

as you added your clear coat, it went almost completely silent and you looked up to see logan laying on wade, both of them with multiple wounds and covered in blood.

“you guys done yet?”

both boys groaned, making you grin as you fanned your newly painted toes and returned the nail polish to your bag.

a few minutes later, both guys were awake and walking towards you. you three needed a somewhere to stay, and you knew exactly where.

"i know where we can stay. this isn't my first time in the void, and there's a house where some hero's hide from cassandra. we can go there." wade listens to your words while logan just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"and why are we listening to you?" logan's sassy remark made you roll your eyes.

"because i've been in the void before you dumb fuck. don't question me."

"what did you just call me?" logan growled, stepping toward you as you remained unbothered in your lawn chair.

"you heard me." your tone was sharp and sassy.

wade rolled his eyes before stepping in front of logan, stopping from getting any closer to you.

"guys. knock it off. we're gonna follow her, because she's been here before. got it, dog boy?" wade's nickname made you snicker, another nickname added to your dictionary.

“yeah dog boy.” you add on, earning a glare from wade.

“shut the fuck up, woman.” logan spat, his tone was bitter, and his eyes searched you up and down.

“you wish i would.” you spat right back, scoffing as you looking at your nails on your hand, acting completely unbothered by logan’s insults.

wade grabbed you out of the chair, and grabbed logan’s arm, practically dragging you both before shoving you forward.

before the three of you could even take another step, you saw a hidden figure standing on higher ground. he wore a hood over his head, and as he spoke, and revealed himself, it was johnny storm.

“there’s no time. they’re already almost here.” he points to the distance, physically pointing out the fact that cassandra’s army were already on their way to get you.

you swore under your breath as johnny jumped down, joining the three of you, it was now four against like, 100, and you knew you had no other way out of this but to face cassandra head on.

they all approached you fast, and quickly surrounded you. a man, with long hair and brown teeth, began to speak.

“ooo, she’s gonna love what i have for her.”

wade scoffed. “who is she, exactly?”

you smacked his shoulder earning a pathetic wince, causing logan to roll his eyes by the two of you.

the man ignored wade’s question, and before they even had a chance to fight, each of you were sucked by a magnet, and knocked unconscious.

when you woke up, you tried to move your body but it was restrained, looking up and seeing that you were tightly tied against logan. great.

you were in a moving ball, practically like a wired hamster house. your body was tightly maneuvered against his, breasts pressing against his chest, sighing in defeat as logan watched you struggle. “there’s no getting out of this.” his dark, husky voice made you look up, hating the fact that you couldn’t look anywhere but his eyes.

“i know where we’re going. i’ve been here before.”

johnny raised an eyebrow at that as he was tied up next to you, against wade. “you have? no one has ever escaped cassandra alive?”

you sighed. “well i have.”

logan rolled his eyes, hating that the attention was on you. “well aren’t you just the greatest. you escaped a bald bitch, boo fucking who.”

logan’s comment caused your knee to come up in between his legs and hit him in the dick, watching his face contort into pain, making you giggle.

after what felt like the longest ride ever, you arrived to cassandra’s lair, watching as she stepped out and observed the small group.

she untied everyone eventually, examining each person. when she walked up to you, she put her hands behind her back, giving you a smile.

“miss princess. lovely seeing you here again. you’ve escaped me once and it will take a lot for that to happen again.” her words made you swallow, a little frightened but not letting it show, so you held your ground against her.

“you don’t have to worry cass, it’ll happen again. i’m sure of it.” her eyes brighten at the nickname, giggling as she walked over to johnny storm.

it didn’t take long for her to release you as alioth slowly lowers from the sky, hungry for his next meal.

you quickly run over to a weird jet pack thing, watching as both boys follow you, johnny staying behind.

the three of you flew away on the magical item, you shouted quickly, “take us west! that’s where the house is!” she shouts to wade who is somehow controlling the thing from the bottom.

when you arrived at the house, you saw the others, as in the former x-men, which were all very familiar with you.

they greeted you, and you introduced them to the boys.

“this my friend wade! and this… is logan.” you say your excitement wandering off as you say logan’s name, wanting to purposely annoy him.

logan rolled his eyes and introduced himself to everybody sense you didn’t do it for him. the others noticed the frustrating tension between you and logan, most saw it as hatred, but gambit saw right through the both of you.

as everyone started to mingle, gambit approached you and introduced himself, his speed of speaking somehow easy for your brain to comprehend.

“you know, you and that logan guy would be one hot couple.” you almost choked on your spit, turning to him with your eyes wide.

“me… and logan…? like as in dog boy logan? like as in i fight people with claws like a furry, logan?” your comment made gambit chuckle, he nodded his head.

“yes, furry logan. it always startz as enemies, i tink you and him would really get along if you actully chose to.”

you rolled your eyes, “i’m gonna have to disagree with you on that one, mr gambit. i hate that man with a passion.”

he just shrugged his shoulders, looking around the room before looking over at you. “whatever you say, miss y/n. i may just see somefin you don’t.”

about an hour later, the group was all gathered around the table, trying to figure out a plan to capture and kill cassandra.

“okay. cassandra has her big army of dick-riders, so we have to find someway to distract/kill them without the others getting suspicious.” wade says, obviously opening the conversation for ideas.

“maybe we just go head first and attack them all?” electra suggests, which is a good idea, but someone would end up getting killed.

wade looks like he has a light bulb moment, and he turns to you. “remember that one time when we fought off those guys behind the bar in new york, and you did your little dance fighting thing, slowly killing them without the others knowing because you seduced them first,” wade said, sparking memory in your head. everyone else looked confused, while logan looked completely against the idea already.

“yes, how could i forget? that night started my tradition of dance fighting.”

wade smirks, “what if we use that in this? you seduce and fight the guards while we sneak in. i went by earlier and saw the army only comes out when it’s a group, so if it’s just you, seducing the guards, they won’t question a thing.”

wade’s idea makes your face lighten up, loving the idea of being the center of attention. “and how do we know this will work?” logan’s voice is obviously unamused.

“it’s never failed.” you spoke, shooting him a smirk before turning back to wade.

“yeah. let’s do it. i’ll walk up, distract the guard while you guys go through the back and sneak in, just give me a signal when you finally kill that bald bitch, because sway my hips for so long.”

your comment causes the other to laugh, except for logan, as usual. he just huffs, already not liking the idea.

you’re outside the house, everyone getting into the car, no seats for you and logan. “can you guys just sit in the trunk?”

you shoot him a look, knowing it won’t end well.

“out of all two people to out in the trunk, you should be smart enough to know him and i are the worst ones possible.”

logan scowled in agreement, if scowling in agreement was even possible.

wade just shrugged, telling you guys to suck it up and just get in the back, because we were only driving a few minutes.

you rolled your eyes, opening the back and getting in.

logan watched you with narrowed eyes, rolling his eyes before plopping in the trunk. he closed it behind him, and once it was closed, he scooted as far away as possible from you.

you scoffed and roll your eyes, “i don’t bite, ya know.” your words made him chuckle.

“you seem like you would with all those snarky comments you make.” his words make your mouth fall open, slightly offended.

“are you calling me a fucking ankle-biter?”

“yes.”

logan’s quick yes added to your loss for words, unable to form a sentence as you just sat there with your mouth open.

logan chuckled, but realized he was chuckling and stopped himself, quickly looking out the back window, trying to hide the fact he almost got comfortable around you.

when you guys finally arrived, wade got out and hit the button on the trunk.

logan got out abnormally fast, making wade laugh. you got out, grabbing your suit.

when you got you, wade closed the back and got back in the car, driving away and leaving you there.

you ran to the nearest room, changed into your suit, then stared walking toward cassandra's lair.

wade was parking on the side, his car hidden as he watched you slowly walk up to the group, boombox in hand.

wade pressed play on his phone, the song 'murder on the dancefloor' starting to blast on the boombox, drawing attention to you as you slowly walked up to the guards.

you set the boombox down onto the ground, walking up to the first guard, smiling at him as you placed both your hands on his shoulders, swaying your hips.

you slowly swayed down his body, hands roaming all over him. he was clearly into it, and that's what made it even better for you.

you slowly brought him to the side, pretending to kiss him, knocking him unconscious.

you slowly knocked down each guard with your moves and hands, seducing them then knocking them out.

you left them all in a pile, on top of each other, on the side of cassandra's lair.

when you were done, you walked over to the car, knocking on the window, as wade rolls it down.

"haven't seen you in your suit doing your thing for a few years! that was perfect!" wade exclaimed, getting out of the car.

you smiled, noticing how quite logan was from the trunk.

"you have about 30 minutes to get your asses in there before all the guards wake up." is all you say, earning a nod from wade and the rest of the group.

"yes ma'am." wade says, only half joking.

you nod as everyone gets out of the car, you push the button in the back so logan is able to do that.

logan huffs as he finally gets out. "i didn't need your help."

you could tell something was up. something different.

you roll your eyes, “oh, my bad mr. tough guy.” logan let out a scowl, and you watch his body shivered. you were unsure whether it was from anger or something else.

“you just love to push my buttons, don’t you.” his raspy, low voice caused you to turn your head, noticing the fact that he was actually pissed off by you. it made you want to annoy him more. you’d been grating on his nerves for this whole mission, and it barely even started.

“yes. that’s my job, dog boy, keep you on your toes.”

as much as you may despise logan, you have to grant it to him, he knows what he's doing, and he's admirable with it. this time, his voice is tired, not annoyed.

which makes you hold back a giggle. you’re tiring him. that’s something you find cute. “whatever woman, just shut up.”

and you do. you figure you can always annoy him more later, but right now there’s grater matters to deal with.

you hop back into the car, going into the front and making yourself comfortable as the others go to fight. your part was done and now you were more than happy to take the time you could to relax.

later that day, the mission was over with, and it didn't go as planned.

"i did all that ass shaking for nothing?" your words cause the group to have a collective laugh, except for logan, per usual.

"you'll live." his comment sends a shot through your heart, which you show, pretending to faint and holding your heart with your right hand.

"no.. i won't," you say, in stuttered breaths. wade just rolled his eyes at how dramatic you were, but the others seemed to love your jokes.

"will you quit that, you dramatic dingo?" wade's words snd nickname cause you to stop, bursting out into laughter with the rest of the team. except again for the usual exception, logan.

after everyone calms down it's settled that you, wade and logan were going to go through the portal, while the others stayed behind and you got them out later.

you arrived once again at cassandra's lair. yesterday you had captured her and she offered to let you guys to the real world, however, with a price. that woman never gave out things for free. there was some kind of catch and you knew that, but chose to ignore it for the time being, more ready to go back home to your regular universe.

it was just before dark, and as you walked into the lair, cassandra was sat in her chair, she turned to face you as you walked up the ramp. "hello boys, and y/n. welcome back. are you finally set for our trade?"

the three of you nodded, wade stepped forward. "yes we're ready miss death giver. please send us home." his words were so unserious, yet spoken in a serious tone and it almost made it seem serious. even logan almost chuckled.

cassandra opened the portal, watching carefully as the three of you walked through. you made it through, feeling as if you were falling to your death.

as you were falling from the sky, you turned to see logan, next to you, also falling, questionably close to you. he still managed to have his signature grumpiness as he was practically falling to his death, and he rolled his eyes and held a hand out to you, which caused your eyebrow to raise.

was he being... thoughtful toward you? that's a fucking first.

you accepted his hand, the two of you falling together onto a tree, groaning as the pain was still present. you heard some kind of click in the sky and slowly watched wade fall, landing on a poison ivy garden. you chuckled, then turned to logan, seeing his eyes still shut, his breath huffing and puffing. you then looked down, noticing that your hands were still holding each other.

you started to panic and let go, watching his eyes open slowly and his breathing start to slow down. "what, didn't want to hold my hand?" his snarky comment caused you to roll your eyes.

"no. you'll live." you say, using his comment from earlier.

he bares his teeth as a way of holding back another mean comment, watching as you slowly got up, starting to make your way over to wade, leaving his limp body there, by himself.

finally, the three of you make it back to wade's home. it was practically midnight and all the three of you were extremely drained after the day you had.

"you guys can stay here for the night with me, i have a spare bedroom and a couch." wade's words made you perk up, but logan beat you to it before you could say anything.

"you can take the couch. you're small enough to fit on it." you clench your jaw at logan's comment, sighing as wade shakes his head.

“not in my house, logan. as much as i love you mr. mutt, miss twerkalator over here gets the bed. unless you two want to share it."

logan looks at you, eyeing you up and down before shaking his head. "i'll take the couch."

you two walk into the room, and logan's eyes widen at the king sized bed.

he turns to you, his face obviously fighting back a decision. "we can share it. if that's okay with you. i propose a pillow wall."

you shook your head and giggled. "fine logan. only if there's a pillow wall. i want the right side though."

with a roll of his eyes, he sets his stuff down on the left side, you go out to say goodnight to wade, who must've changed into sweatpants and a hoodie cause he's no longer in his suit.

when you walk out, he's is wiggling his eyebrows at you. "you two have fun sharing that bed, okay? if you decide to fuck, let me know so i can come watch."

his words make you physically cringe, watching as his face is purely serious. this man was not joking. you roll your eyes, "there will be no fucking on your spare bed, wade. especially not with him." your cold words make wade shake his head.

"whatever you say, princess. if i hear moaning i'll assume it's the neighbors."

his final comment makes you flip him off as you walk back into the room, he blows you a kiss before you shut the door behind you.

logan is in the bathroom, then he walks out. "there's a shower in here. just letting you know. i'm gonna take one first, you can go after me if you need to." his tone seems calmer, but you assumed it was only because of his tiredness.

you nodded, just accepting the fact he was showering first and sitting yourself on the floor, grabbing your phone.

you didn't want to get the bed dirty, especially with your suit. so you just picked out your clothes, and waited for logan to be finished with his shower.

another quite twenty minutes and the bathroom door swung open.

he walks out, a plain white towel hanging low around his hips, his chest hair carrying small water droplets, a few dropping to the floor as he walked. his body is sculpted and wonderfully chiseled. his chest was defined, along with his abs, his veins evident, and his abs defined. there was a little trail of hair along his v-line, leading to below the towel. his beard had a few drops of water still left in it, assuming it was damp.

you swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that his body was perfect, setting your clothes onto the bed and rushing yourself into the shower.

you tried to push back the possible thoughts of him looking delicious, and decided to just brush them off in your shower. but as you stepped in, it got worse.

the warm water hit your cold skin, almost like a reverse burn, but a good burn. it felt nice on your timid skin, you used this as a way to try and ignore the feeling you just had when you saw logan shirtless.

as much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny it. he was fucking hot. and his body was even hotter.

you physically shook off the thoughts as you noticed a face wash in the shower. wade and his skincare. you grabbed it and used it, aggressively washing your face from all the dirty thoughts you just had and then washing your body, your hair, adding conditioner, then stepping out of the shower.

you dry of your body, deciding to do the same thing he did. you walked out, your breasts pushed up on the towel as you held it, grabbing your clothes off the bed, then walking back into the bathroom to change.

as you shut the door, you caught a glimpse of logan staring at your body and when he quickly looked away, you knew you had got him.

you got yourself changed, throwing your hair into one of wade’s bright pink towels and going to sit on the bed. you were sat awkwardly on one side, while logan was sat awkwardly on the other.

you grabbed your phone, trying to drown out the awkward silence through your instagram feed, but it wasn’t cutting it.

logan wasn’t even trying to deny the awkward silence, he just stood there, letting his thoughts overload his brain.

he huffed, before grabbing the towel by his bed, placing it onto his pillow and setting his head down. “i’m gonna go to sleep. don’t wake me up.”

his harsh words make you want to laugh, remembering the scared look he had on his face when you caught him staring form just minutes ago, but you decided to let him rest and leave him be for the night.

he quickly fell asleep, beginning to snore, which made you laugh, but you quickly got tired yourself and set the phone down, plugging it in and falling asleep yourself.

you slept for a few hours, before you woke up, your mouth incredibly dry and in need of some water.

you slowly got up, trying not to knock over the pillow wall as you did so, you slowly opened and shut the door behind you, trying to refrain from any noise. you walked out to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from wade’s cupboard and filling it up with his fancy filtered water from the fridge. you took a sip, the cold liquid instantly wetting your throat, easing your cotton mouth.

you started to look at the magnets on wade’s fridge, smiling as you saw multiple pictures, even one of you and him. it was a selfie he stopped to take in the middle of a mission. he was a fucking goofball.

you turned and jumped, seeing logan behind you. he was grabbing a glass for himself. “did i scare you?” he just chuckled at you and got some of the tap water, chugging it. he obviously knew the answer to that and was just asking to piss you off even more.

you rolled your eyes, ignoring his question and getting more to the water from the filter. he rolled his eyes. “filtered water? seriously? now i see why you and wade get along so well. you both are incredibly boujee.” his use of the word boujee practically makes you spit out your water into the sink.

“i never expected that word to be in your dictionary.” you said, honestly, watching as he chuckled, filling up his water and sipping it this time.

“there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” his voice was low and raspy, lower than usual. it was his sleepy voice, you were trying not to let it get it you. didn’t matter what he said. it was the voice that was the problem.

“yeah? like that you snore in your sleep? just found that out a few hours ago.”

logan scoffed, clenching then unclenching his jaw, holding back a roll of his eyes. “yes, i snore. i didn’t even know until my ex-wife told me.”

the mention of his ex-wife made the room go silent, with the exception of the faucet dropping a few times.

his comment just reminded you of how much older he was than you. you decided to not let it be awkward by keeping the conversation going.

“ex-wife huh? how many of those have you had?” your snark comment making his eyes actually roll this time.

he could hear the teasing nature in your voice and didn’t take it the wrong way, but was still acting annoyed, because he always tried to be with you.

“i’m not answering that question.” his response made you giggle. you just smiled to him, deciding to tease him a bit.

“you gonna make me guess?”

with a roll of his eyes he set his glass into the sink, and you didn’t realize his body was slowly getting closer to yours.

“don’t guess. cause i won’t tell you.”

you hid back a smile, looking up at him. “you know, i caught you staring earlier.” your blunt comment made all his attention go on you, eyes searching you up and down for any sign of discomfort at the thought of him staring at your body.

“i was not staring.” his voice was still low and husky, making your stomach get butterflies. you watched to stop them but you couldn’t help it. logan was towering over you and all you could do was look up at him.

he body moved closer to you as you said your next comment. “you definitely were. i saw it with my own two eyes.”

your comment must’ve struck a nerve in him, because his body was now fully pressed up against you, one hand on your hip while the other rested on the fridge above your head. you were unsure of what to do, he practically had you pinned to the fridge.

“i said, i wasn’t staring, doll. what part of that don’t you get?” he spoke slower this time, eyes daggering into yours, making your heart flutter.

“okay. you weren’t staring.” your words make him smile a bit.

“that’s right.” his voice was taunting almost, and it made you shiver. he stared down at you, and as he separated himself from you, you noticed, a bulge in his pants. you giggled to yourself as he walked back into the room. leaving you there, with your many ideas in your head of how the rest of the night could go.

you take a deep breath, composing yourself before walking back into the room. you laid down on your side of the pillow wall, staring at the ceiling. little did you know he was doing the same.

you took a deep breath before you said your next sentence. “you know, it’s okay to get a boner. it’s normal.”

your comforting yet embarrassing words caused his cheeks to flush. your words made him realize you noticed his bulge, and he huffed before throwing each of the four pillows in the pillow wall onto the floor.

“what did you just say?”

you tried to hide back your amused giggle. “you heard me and you know it.”

your eyes glared into his, watching his face as his jaw clenched. he knew he’d been caught.

“i said, it’s okay to have a boner. i know you’re hard because of our interaction. and because of seeing me in nothing but a towel. you don’t have to hide your attraction for me, logan. i’m not stupid. i know it’s there.”

your words cause a battle within him internally. there’s no denying that your words sent a shiver down his body. frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if a wet patch appeared in his pants.

he tries to think of something snarky to respond with, wanting to ignore the aroused feeling he had, not wanting you to have the slightest hint about how he was feeling.

you decided to speak again before he could, "in fact, i'm sure it's getting worse the more i speak-" you don't have time to finish your surly sentence before he's right there, his hot breath fanning your face from above, his forearms on either side of your head, trapping you in.

"you know what? yeah. you're the reason why i'm hard. doing your fucking dance fighting. i had to hide how hard i was. watching you kill those guys so effortlessly, and looking sexy while you did it. and, god you walking around here in nothing but a towel, last night where you worse the littlest shorts that barely even cover your ass. that's what made me hard. god, and i've been trying to hide it for so long but it just seems like i'm affecting you too."

he growls, his face falling to your neck, the intersection of your shoulder, his lips just brushing the flesh before inhaling deeply; almost animalistic.

you smile, looking up at him, getting another idea. you bat your eyelashes and take his hand, knocking him to his side as he's forced to lay next to you. “lo, you do affect me, so bad," you take his hand and lead it down to your core, pressing his hand to your clothed pussy. "right here. you feel that? feel how wet i am? it's all cause of you."

you watch as his mouth falls open and his pants tighten, seeing his dick twitch in his sweatpants. he's at a loss for words. he was expecting you to submit to him, but the way you didn't sent shivers down his spine.

"yeah? i did that?" his mouth now forms to a smirk, looking over at you, down to your lips and up to your eyes.

"yes you did. and i've been aching, waiting for you to come help me out." you watch as his head falls back, a puff of air falling from his mouth.

"fuck, stop talking." his command only eggs you on. you being the little menace you are, continue with your teasing.

"need you so bad logan. so bad right here. she's been aching. calling for you. god, she's so tight and needs something to stretch her out, think you can do that? i bet you’re so big, could stretch her out real good.”

you watch as his body shakes, and you notice a wet patch on his sweatpants, realizing the fact that he just came, just from the words you were saying and the slight touch of your clothed pussy.

"you must've been waiting for this huh? already came in your pants. naughty boy."

logan doesn't let you get another word, because his lips press to yours. after so much waiting, the tension was finally being released through a kiss.

the two of you continue your messy kiss, and it doesn't take long for his hands to stray, his palms skimming down your hot flesh, and leaving goose bumps in his wake.

“fucking hell, woman,” he whines, getting on top of you again, kissing your lips. "you're gonna look so much better when I mark you up, every inch of you. you already look like you’re mine."

his words made you moan, tugging at your shirt, signaling for you to take it off, which you do, you throw it over your head and across the room. leaving you in nothing but your soaked panties.

“god, so fucking pretty. you know how hard it was for me not to do this to you earlier on? you know how long i’ve been fucking waiting?” his harsh words make your body tremble. he slowly kissed your breasts.

his tongue swirled across your left nipple, sucking on it, eyes up on you, watching your face, watching it contort into pleasure because of him.

he kisses and gives love to the other breast, sucking on it as his hands slowly roam your body, overstimulating you with his touch.

he slowly descends while pulling at the waist of your panties. it appears like that's when he realizes it, pulling away from you, breathing heavily, his beard tingling your hip bones.

his desperate eyes look up at you, searching your face for any regret to which he found none.

he takes off your panties, shoving them in his pocket. "i'm gonna keep these."

his words make you moan again. you look down and he has a devilish grin on his face, both his arms wrapping around your legs, nibbling on your thighs before starting to devour as if he's starving and you're his last meal.

his tongue immediately fucks into your hole, eyes never leaving your face as he works his magic. his nose rubs against your clit, moaning the more he gets into it.

he was being so messy, and it was making you wetter, which then continued to make the situation even messier.

his facial hair caresses your swelling pearl as he eats you whole, without any hesitation—to him, you are a complete feast.

the most exquisite sight you have ever seen is his tongue in your pussy as he gives you sloppy kisses.

you can only watch, gripping his hair and running your fingers through his dark locks, yanking for some semblance of stability, something to keep you bound to this world because the pleasure you feel is unfathomable.

"fuck, logan that feels amazing?" your words only edge him on, watching as his silly smirk turns to a devilish grin.

"does it baby? tell me more." his voice is still low and husky, and he grips your thighs tighter, noticing your body shaking.

but you're so close, perched precariously on the brink of something amazing, something profound, something cosmic. you are crying as he gets closer and closer to you, enjoying every taste of his tongue in your cave and every nuzzle of his nose to your extremely sensitive spot.

"i'm so close." is all you are able to say, feeling a bit embarrassed at the fact the man you once despised was now between your legs, making you yell for him.

"yeah? come on doll, i'll take you there." his words mixed with his stimulations on your clit and fucking of your hole finally bring you to the edge.

your body trembles and shakes as he makes you cum for the first time of the night, you drench his face in your juices, loving how intimate he was with his way pleasuring you.

"good fucking girl." his words combined with his look turns you back on instantly, sending shivers down to your core as you finally come down from your high.

he comes up, you place both hands on either sides of his face, his soaked beard tickling your fingers. "you're gonna ruin me, aren't you?"

his smile only grows, as he begins to lower his sweatpants, "i'm gonna make it so no other man is able to top what i do to you tonight."

his words make you moan, he presses a kiss to your forehead before letting his dick free, you watched as the precum dripped onto your stomach, trying to ignore how hot it was. god, even his dick was hairy. but today was the day you finally decided to admit that you loved every fucking hair on his body.

he slowly aligned with your aching pussy, which is practically waiting just to suck him in. he slowly pushes in, earning a moan to fall from his soaked lips.

you hiss, but as he stretches you, the minor pain only makes you want to absorb him completely more. your ass reaches his thighs, causing you to realize that he's now balls deep in you.

he mutters, "fucking hell," letting out the most agonizing sigh yet.

his movements begin slowly as you becomes accustomed to his immense girth filling you up to the brim.

even the smallest movement causes your walls to become tense around the ridges of his dick, grinding against you so strongly. with each rock, his breathing gets deeper, his eager pants and short pleas filling the air as he picks up tempo.

he moves faster, eyes gazing into yours, he pulls his hand up and places it on your stomach, pressing down knowing it would increase the pleasure for you.

“tell me baby, talk to me. how does it feel?” he already knew the answer to that, but he absolutely loved the thought of you beneath him, trembling under of his manipulation.

“so fucking good.” your harsh words make his dick twitch.

“yeah? tell me more, hon.” your head falls back, hair sprawling onto the pillows as your body shook, feeling overstimulated by his words and thrusts, that were picking up speed, and the fact that you had already came once, and fast. you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

he looks down at you, letting his hand trail from your stomach to your mouth. “open.”

you watch carefully, eyes never leaving his as his fingers slowly slide into your mouth, moaning as he remains eye contact and watches you suck on them. seeing that makes him imagine how good your tight little mouth would feel around his dick.

“god, you’re gorgeous.” he says, finally admitting it.

all you can do it smile, realizing this is the first time he’s ever genuinely complimented you, and you decided to take it in, and tease him with it. per usual.

“think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented me. you finally letting yourself see how fucking hot i am?”

your words apparently get to him because he winces. not a sad wince, a pathetic ‘i need to cum’ type wince.

“stop that.” his voice is harsh, a bit whiny, as he continues to thrust into you, both hand now on your hips as he hovers above you, his tip hitting your cervix, stretching you out just for him.

"stop what, logan? you don't like hearing about how we could've fucked so much earlier, if you just quit the fucking act and admitted how horny i made you?" your dirty talk was working on him and you were loving it.

the man was whimpering, his hips starting to stutter, as he pounded into you, wanting to make you cum before he did.

"if you keep talking like that i'm gonna cum, y/n." you smiled up at him, knowing you were close as well.

your tired eyes batted up at him, a small smile forming on your face.

"then cum. do it. fucking cum, i'll cum with you, yeah? filling me up so good, you feel her clenching? that's all from you baby, you got me this hot and bothered, now make me fucking cum." your words flipped a switch in him.

he started pounding into you, balls slapping repeatedly against your ass as he moved, keeping his same pace but now fucking you harder.

he moaned into your ear, "yeah? i'll make you fucking cum. gonna make you cum so hard the only thing you'll remember is my fucking name," his harsh words and the fact he could go from submissive to dominant so fast made you go over the edge for the final time that night.

you finally came, the continuous pressure in your bundle of nerves, the hot white wave of pleasure sends you hurtling through the sky and to heaven in an instant, leaving you in a state of unrestrained bliss that you cannot predict.

your body is electrified from head to toe. somewhere in the mix of your earth-shattering orgasm logan came as well, the sight of you in such state making him reach his peak, filling your walls with his hot sticky cum.

you both sat there for a second, catching your breath, and suddenly you looked down to see logan’s hot cum gushing out of you and onto the bedsheets, the sight becoming to hot to handle, as you both moaned in unison.

he got up and went to the bathroom, getting a rag from the cupboard and drowning it in hot sink water, ringing it out before walking over to you and cleaning you up.

his tongue licked up some of the mixed cum, and you watched with big eyes, feeling even more aroused at the sight.

he used the rag to get the rest and wipe off his beard from your juices.

he threw the rag into the hamper, climbing into bed next to you again, this time a lot closer and with no pillow wall.

instead, you rested in his arms, smiling up at him, as the two of you finally fell asleep.

the next morning, you and logan lay for a bit before you throw on one of his shirts and some of your shorts and walk out to the kitchen, seeing wade sitting at this dining table with his fake glasses on, drinking a cup of coffee in his ‘love yourself’ mug.

he eyes the both of you as you walk out, taking note of the outfit changes.

he smiled. “morning sunshine’s. how’d the night go? did you guys hear my neighbors downstairs at all? sounded like they were getting it on, the guy was moaning and groaning, must’ve been havin’ a grand ole’ time,” wade says, doing the thrust motion with his arms up causing logan’s face to turn a bit pink, making you laugh loudly.

he came up to you, hands around your waist and lips near your ear.

“try to walk in a straight line, sweetheart, then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

a/n: SURPRISEEEE hiii guys! this is what i have been working on all day! i wanted to spoil you with more then just a drabble while i had motivation. MWAH I HOPE U ENJOYED!

[alisonwritesimagines]

Count On Mom ~Batfamily Imagine~

Summary: The kids try to get Bruce to get away from the computer. Luckily, there is always one person who can take his mind out of anything including Batman duties. You.

Author’s Note: Haven't posted much in a while and I kept seeing a lot of Batfamily stuff at the last convention I went to so here we go!

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: boob flashing, hint to smut

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Three of the batkids stared at their adoptive father as he had been stuck in front of the screen in the Batcave. None of the moved as they watched Bruce in some kind of trance.

“How long since he moved?” Dick asked Cassandra and Jason.

“A day,” Cassandra monotonous answered.

“I think he blinked a minute ago, does that count?” Jason asked.

“It’s official. Alfred called it. He said he’ll bake cookies if we can get Bruce to stop working,” Duke said as he walked into the batcave.

"Step aside," Jason said as he cracked his knuckles. "This will be over in no time."

As the kids began to try to get Bruce to move away, no effort was made to moving Bruce.

"I got an idea," Dick said as he took out his phone.

You felt your phone ring, making you put the groceries down onto the kitchen island so you could answer your phone. You had just gone to the store to grab some ingredients to make dinner for tomorrow's dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom! Are you and Damien almost done with grocery shopping yet?”

“We just got home. Why?”

“We’re trying to pry Bruce off of the computer in the Batcave and Alfred said he’d make us cookies if we get him away from the screen.”

“I’m on my way,” you say with a chuckle at the end.

"Already began to bake the cookies. I know you'll be able to get him away," Alfred told you.

"Of course I can. That's my superpower in this family," you joked.

When you got to the Batcave, you saw your husband tiredly staring at the screen in front of him. The dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep made you upset but you knew there was one thing you could do that would always get his attention.

"Aw my poor husband," you say.

"You got this mom?" Jason asked you.

“Step aside kids and close your eyes,” you tell them as you walked over to your husband.

“What are you going to do mom?” Dick as as he covered his eyes. The rest of the kids quickly covered their eyes to avoid to see what you were going to do.

You climbed onto Bruce’s lap before lifting both your shirt and bra in front of him. Bruce quickly snapped out of his daze before looking up at you with a smile.

“Tempting me my love?”

“Maybe,” you smile as you pulled your shirt and bra down.

“Let me have my cookies and you can have me,” you whispered into his ears as you stood up.

“Okay kids. Enjoy Alfred’s cookies,” you say as you headed out.

The moment the kids uncovered their eyes, they watched in shock as Bruce already began to make his way towards you.

“Leave it to mom for getting Bruce to do anything other than his Batman duties,” Jason said.

"I wonder how she does it," Duke says out loud.

"Because dad's got it bad for mom," Dick tells him.

By the time Bruce got to you, you were eating your chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made with Damien. You winked at your husband as you kissed Damien’s head.

“Alfred, why don’t you and the kids go out for a bit? It’s lovely outside,” you tell him.

“Of course,” Alfred said before walking over to get the rest of the kids. You began to head upstairs to your room, knowing that you had stirred something in Bruce.

“You coming Bruce?” You called out. You smirked as you heard Bruce’s fastened footsteps.

You let out a laugh as you felt him pick you up. You held onto him as he rushed over to the bedroom.

“I owe you some alone time don’t I?” Bruce asked you with a smile.

“Yes you do. Now, while everyone is out of the house, why don’t you make it up to me?” You asked him.

“I plan to," Bruce said before kissing you passionately.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Throwback

Male Triceratops Hybrid Alpha Yandere x Gender Neutral Capybara Hybrid Omega Reader

CW: Noncon, painful to pleasureable sex, mild violence (not towards reader), time travel, sexism, breeding, impregnation, pheromones, a/b/o, musk, scent marking, scent kink, sucking on dem big man titters, biting, bite marking, claiming, exceptionally huge dick, reader inflated with copious cum, knotting

Word Count: 1.9k

(Sometimes I get stuck on WIPs and have to do something new to write again. I wrote this in two days. Hope y'all like it! Please feed me with comments ❤️)

You were an omega demi-human. Part capybara, though the only evidence of this was your soft ears. More importantly, you were a quantum physicist. Currently, you were studying and recreating what you thought to be a time travel device. Your thoughts and theories had been dismissed entirely by your peers. It didn't help at all that you were an omega. Omegas working in academia were almost universally harassed, derided, and treated with condescension. As if their omega brains couldn't work at the same level as betas and alphas.

But even if it wasn't some type of device for traveling through time it was certainly alien to the time period from which it originated. It was made of advanced alloys and components that had been flattened, buried, and heavily corroded over time. The rock in which it was embedded in was older than any ancient society.

You had been working on manufacturing a functional copy of the artifact for years. Shmoozing up eccentric rich fucks, getting help from the exceedingly few colleagues who would help you in any way, slowly analyzing every detail and carefully bringing it all together. And at long last it was complete. The zenith of your career was at hand. And after some cautious testing that you conducted privately, it was ready to show to others.

You managed to get a spot at a small conference, though you had lied about the subject on which you would be speaking, and by the time it was your turn most of the audience had left. Not many academics cared what an omega had to say. Let alone one with a reputation for being a crackpot. But there were still enough of your fellow scientists and this would all be on video.

Instead of introducing the topic of your presentation, which would be a surefire way to lose what people were still watching, you opted for wheeling out your machine onto the stage and stepping in. With a deep breath, you booted it up and the entire contraption disappeared with a flash.

When you exited the machine there was an immediate problem. You stepped out of the machine into a forest with giant trees and flowers. You had only intended to go back a minute to when your presentation started but had made an error. You turned around to step back in but something pulled you backwards by your rear. You fell back and saw before you a humongous man charging at your time machine. He wore only a ragged fur loincloth and swung a massive club. He looked human except for his size, thick tail, scaled arms, and three horns on his head. One large horn from each temple and a small one extending from my nose.

You looked on in horror as he swung a mighty club down upon your only way back to your own time, repeatedly smashing it down until it resembled the exact shape of the artifact that had been excavated in your time. The relic that you had fashioned your own machine after. That wasn't what your attention was on, however. You were much more focused on getting away from the raging beast of a man who could flatten metal so easily.

Though with his task of destroying the frightening affront to nature that had appeared from nowhere now complete, he turned his attention to you. He shouted at you in a language you didn't understand, though his intent was clear. He had a massive erection sticking out from his loincloth and aggressively sniffing at your neck after picking you up with unexpected care.

With exertion of great willpower, the trike-man managed to not breed you silly right there in the forest. Your pheromones were driving him nearly feral. Modern-day omega pheromones were many times more potent than any prehistoric omega. They had evolved through millennia to pique the interest of choosy alphas despite the steep competition, an evolutionary arms race to try to snag an alpha.

That wasn't the only appealing trait. You were exotic, had cute little furry ears on your head, and you were so small, couldn't fight back and act all defiant like the omegas from his time.

You did struggle though. You had seen his arousal and could still smell it. Almost anything would be better than being violated in such a manner by such a hulking brute. He chuckled at your struggles, they were successful only in tiring you out. On the long way to his lair, between your squirming, kicking, and punching, you had gathered that his name was Orryg. At least you thought it was. He did not speak English, but he gestured at himself and seemed to be trying to give you his name.

He found your struggles kinda cute, mistaking them for an eagerness to escape his grasp and get on with taking his cock already. Omegas were so silly.

"Don't worry. Going to breed you plenty. Better in a secluded place."

You had no idea what he said, but his voice was deep and sounded angry so you could only assume it was something in annoyance at your struggles so you went limp. The giant man could snap you like a twig if he wanted to, best not to make him too upset. And honestly, even if you did escape, where the fuck would you go? What if Orryg wasn't the worst thing prowling about in the time period?

The walk went on for a while, with Orryg giving you an occasional lick or mumbling out some words you didn't have any hope of understanding. After a fair amount of time, Orryg stopped to sniff the air. Suddenly there was a roar from behind.

Orryg turned the two of you around just in time for him to take his club and smack it into a man who was every bit as huge as he was. Swatting him away easily despite being similar in size and build.

This one had sharp teeth and clawed fingers. He spat blood and growled. Orryg regarded him with a scowl.

"Udvik! You know this is trike territory!!"

"Omega smells good, not claimed yet. Thought I'd try..."

"Go before I smash you! This is MINE!"

Udvik spat again and hobbled off. But your suspicions had been confirmed, there were definitely things other than Orryg to be worried about in this time period. You were pretty shaken up seeing a half-dino man jumping at you and watching your captor fight him off. With those teeth it had clearly been no herbivore, it probably would have slaughtered you. Your fear must have been evident in your scent because Orryg held you tighter and nuzzled you.

"That battle got my blood flowing, really need to fuck you. Sorry if it scared you, I'll breed you all better. Almost home."

You continued to have zero idea what the hell he was saying. But you figured with the nuzzling it was something comforting. Though your ability to figure anything out was pretty absent by this point. Your brain was soup. All the anxiety and adrenaline and alpha pheromones had finally gotten to you. You looked at the ground in a stupor as he continued to carry you over his shoulder.

The next thing you were consciously aware of was him entering the cave with you and placing his club at the entrance. He laid down on a slab of stone covered in thick layers of soft furs and placed you on top of his muscled body. Before you had any chance to react he began administering attention to your sensitive neck. You squirmed involuntarily, writhing in pleasure on top of him from the neck stimulation alone.

If that wasn't enough, you were practically drowning in his musk. You had been since you entered his dwelling, the cave was saturated in it, but now he was forcing your head under his arm and making you drink it all in. Smearing your face with it and marking you with his smell. Slick was leaking out of your needy hole and pooling on his abs.

"I knew this would make you feel better."

The trance you were in was only partially broken once you felt the blunt head of his much too-large member press against your hole.

"W-wait! I don-"

But he had no idea what you were saying, and even if he did he knew you'd love his dick so much that you wouldn't protest for long. At this point, you were going to be his... no matter what.

You yelped in pain as he pressed into you, spreading you like none of your toys ever had. He swallowed your shout by pressing his mouth into yours, trying to distract you from the pain with a sloppy kiss before attending to your neck again. Despite every instinct telling him to just ram in and ravage you he restrained himself knowing that doing otherwise could seriously injure you.

"Ah!"

Even with his care it still hurt as he slowly eased his prick all the way into you, he rubbed the outline of his cock through your tummy. Lucky for you omegas were extremely stretchy and pliant.

Orryg slowly thrust back and forth inside you as he hungrily took in your scent. As more precum dribbled into you and mixed with your slick you took him easier and the pain slowly began to ebb away and was eventually replaced almost entirely by pleasure. You moaned softly into his chest as you bit at his pec and sucked his nipple while he kept digging his cock into you.

Your whole body shook and spasmed for a solid minute as you came more intensely than you ever had before. Orryg grunted as the feeling of your body convulsing around him brought him nearly to his climax. The trike man upped the pace just a bit, his heavy balls smacking into you before he started knotting inside you and pumping you full of his virile spunk. One small mercy was that his knot was only a bit thicker than the rest of his cock, not over two times as wide like a modern alpha.

The volume of semen was such that it made you look heavy with child, which you certainly would be after lovemaking like this.

Now that you had been well and truly fucked there was only one thing left for your brand new "husband" to do to really seal the deal. He, with great caution, buried his fangs into your neck to mark you permanently as his to everyone who might see you. Which would be more than you might expect. This was Orryg's outpost, he stayed there while on patrol, but he usually lived with his herd.

It would be a hard adjustment for you to make. You would constantly be under Orryg's watchful gaze or the guard of his tribemates when he went to go hunt or if he went to do things too dangerous for you to be with him. You'd never be alone. Even in the safety of the herd, Orryg would obsessively treat you like something fragile. You would have to adjust your diet to what they ate, mostly fruit and vegetables though they ate meat too, though nothing was familiar to you. You would have to slowly learn their language so you could eventually communicate with the new society that "adopted" you.

But it was okay if it took you a while to get settled, you had all the time in the world.

[satorusugurugurl]

Stuck in The Middle

Summary: After being cramped in a hot car between your coworkers Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, you learn a very personal detail about their lives, their sex lives to be in fact!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Word Count: 3,031

Warning: Masturbation, threesome, oral sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, Geto’s bangs 🥵

A/N: Someone, totally not me. *bombastic side eye at me reflection* Has been reading/looking at tons of SatoSugu artwork. Again totally not me! This was not my brain worm working against me. . .yeah. . .it was. . .🪱

“Satoru, please, you're on my last nerve.”

“Oh, why? Because I'm breathing? So sorry, I need to breathe, your highness!”

“No, it's because you keep rolling the window up and down! It's hot, and you're letting all the cold air out!”

“Okay, so you tell me how to preoccupy my time? My phone is dead, we're stuck in traffic, and I'm starving!” Satoru turned to glare at his best friend. “If someone hadn't nearly thrown up after swallowing that curse, we could be back at the hotel!”

“I will sic’ one of my curses on you while we're inside the car if you keep testing me!”

“P-Please don't.”

Both Satoru and Suguru seized up, looking down at you. You had been so damn quiet they forgot you were there. You were smashed between the two of them, struggling to breathe. You didn't want to be here. You wanted to go on your own mission. But Yaga had insisted your curse technique for talismans and veils was ideal for this mission.

And your boss wasn't wrong! The three of you kicked major ass, got the job done within a day, and would be staying the night in Chiba before heading back to Tokyo in the morning. That was if you made it to the hotel without Satoru and Suguru killing each other.

Since you left Tokyo, the two best friends have been fighting and arguing. Like they were both on edge, you thought that maybe it was your presence intruding on their space. But they were both civil with you; to each other, it was a different story. They bickered like an old married couple. That was fine at first, but now that they talked about fighting each other? The two strongest sorcerers you knew, yeah, you wouldn’t let that happen.

You sighed in relief as they pulled away, giving you space to breathe. “Oh, Y/N, sorry you're so quiet I almost forgot you were here.” Satoru placed his forearm on your head, leaning in closer to Suguru. “Don't worry about me; I can take Suguru.” Suguru sighed loud enough for the both of you to hear.

“She doesn't want us to fight.”

“Well, not everybody gets what they want.” The words come out like silk as you jerk your head to the side. “Hey!” You don't even have a chance to admire the pout on Satoru as your head collides with Suguru’s shoulder.

“S-Sorry.” This is the only word you can begin to muster as Suguru glances down at you. He gives you a soft, gentle smile, bangs shifting as he shakes his head. A gesture to let you know that you were okay. His eyes slowly open to glare daggers at the other man.

Satoru sighs, rolling his eyes as he turns his attention back out the window. His leg bounces up and down so fast it's vibrating the chair. At least he isn't rolling the window up and down anymore. Maybe the peace would last through traffic. Maybe God would grant you that singular gift.

But God was cruel because the peaceful silence lasted all but thirty minutes. Enough time to get you through the nerve-wracking traffic just as the assistant supervisor pulled up to your hotel. They were the first to get out, rushing to grab Gojo’s luggage from the back. You wanted to join them! To help, but alas, you were still pinned between the two taller men. They were still glaring daggers at the other, waiting to see which would back down first.

There was far too much testosterone in the air for your liking. So you wiggled your way past them, reaching for the door handle. If you had to crawl over their laps to escape to freedom, so be it. A sacrifice you were willing to make! Just as you were getting ready to crawl over Suguru’s lap, Satoru moved.

You let out a little oof as Satoru pressed his whole body against you. You inadvertently fell over onto Suguru’s lap. The dark-haired man’s hands shot up, his thighs tensing at you suddenly collapsing onto him. Before you had a chance to get off or move, you gasped, cheeks flush as Satoru pressed his hips against your ass, poking Suguru in the cheek very aggressively with his pointer finger.

”Does somebody have an upset tummy after swallowing that curse?” The mocking tone of Satoru’s voice nearly makes Suguru grow inaudible. However, it was loud and clear from where you were! Seeing that your face was pressed firmly against his thighs.

Suguru's hand reached up, grabbing Satoru by the front of his jacket, yanking him closer to his face. Which had him pressing his crotch harder against your ass; it felt good. One of your hands flies up to stifle the moan that threatens to escape your mouth as Satoru tries pulling away from his very grumpy best friend.

“Do you have a death wish, Satoru?!”

“No, but I still have your underwear from last week.”

“Yeah, well, I still have your virginity!”

“Mmmph.” You whine, and your hand doesn’t muffle the noise this time.

Both Satoru and Suguru freeze. Their eyes slowly drift towards your body. One hand is gripping Geto’s pants while the other covers your mouth. Your ass is perfectly propped up, right against Satoru. Neither of them can deny how hot you look sprawled out in front of them like this. They exchange a look with each other, while at the same time, you feel Gojo’s cock throb against your ass while Geto’s twitches against your cheek.

Their eyes practically burn holes through your skin, muscles twitching like predators about to pounce. You needed to move fast! Grabbing the handle to the door, you throw it open, crawling over Suguru, hitting the hard pavement with a thump that makes your ears ring. Two large hands grab your jacket, trying to hoist you off the ground and back into the car. Luckily, you’re able to shimmy out of it before you’re caught. You scramble to your feet, bolting for the hotel, ignoring the shouts behind you.

When you’re secure in your room, you plop onto the ground, gasping for air as you stare at the multicolored carpet in shock. Suguru and Satoru were fucking!? Oh God, why did they send you on this mission? It was bad enough having to be stuck between the two of them all day. Now you know details about their very personal and very intimate lives, what the hell were they going to do to you!?

”Stupid Y/N! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” You scolded yourself as you scrubbed your hands over your face. “Stupid body! Is it too much to ask for a not so reactive body!?” You screamed to the heavens, pushing yourself off the ground as you began pacing, biting your thumb as your eyes darted to the wall separating you and Gojo's room. “I-I’ll just act like I never heard it! Yeah, I don’t know who happened to Take the Gojo Satoru’s virginity.”

It was Geto, his one and only best friend, Geto Suguru.

Your mind kept stating that fact all evening. While you took a shower, ordered room service, and as you currently laid in bed. Scowling at the ceiling in frustration, you're tossed and turned. You were trying to think of anything else other than Satoru and Suguru.

Like how nice and comfy your bed was! How would Satoru look pushed into it? The moon was beautiful! Satoru and Suguru would look pretty fucking in the moonlight. Was the heater on? No, it was just you, wanting to be in the middle, to taste and feel each other, their bodies flush against you, like earlier in the car, only with less clothes on.

“Stop it!” you shouted, getting out of bed. “You can't fantasize about your coworkers like this! They said it by accident. Not on purpose!”

Deciding that sleep wasn't an option, you walked towards the bathroom to grab a glass of water. “S-Suguru~” A whiny moan behind the wall had you freezing in your tracks. “Ahh~ s-Sugu~!” you turned your head slowly, eyeing the wall.

“Satoru~”

God hated you. It was apparent that you were being punished for some unknown sin. You pressed your thighs together, staring at the wall for a long moment. Listening to the soft grunts and groans from the two men on the other side of the wall. The bed creaked, enticing you to step closer, to listen to their moans. Your body moved, inching closer to the wall. But before you could you froze. No, this was wrong! You shouldn't be eavesdropping! You should leave as this had nothing to do with you! Before you could turn to go, a sharp inhale caught your attention.

“S-She was so pretty~” Satoru cried out, “ah! I w-wanna touch her.”

“Yeah~ she's so pretty. I would love to have her and you at the same time.” A breathless whine. “Oooh, you twitched, Satoru. You like that idea~.”

You liked that idea.

Forgetting all morals, you strode forward, slowly dropping to your knees and pressing your ear against the wall. “Y-Yeah~ like it~” The bed creaked fast, squeaking under the weight of whatever the duo was doing.

“She’d look pretty stuffed between us~ stuck in the middle.”

You felt your pussy twitch, a silent plea for you to relieve the burning heat building inside you. “Fuck.” A tiny whine sounded in the back of your throat as you slid your hand inside your shorts, rubbing your clit. You imagined being stuck between them. The smell of musk, clean linen, and earthy wood. Put them together, and god imagining their scent lingering on your skin could almost make you cum. “Haaah~” you cry out a little too loud, but you're losing yourself in the fantasy that you don't even notice the creaking of the bed has stopped. “Fuck~”

“I wanna kiss her~” Satoru groans out.

“I wanna kiss her too, on that pretty clit.” Suguru added.

“Yes ~ yeah, I-I want that too.” Your fingers pressed harder against yourself.

“I wanna fuck her while she sucks you off. Same position as when we were in the car.”

“Yeah~ she’d look so pretty choking on me while you fuck her.”

God, they were so lewd! It had you crying out softly, legs shaking as you whimpered loudly.“Fuck!” You cried out, rubbing your swollen clit faster, mouth dropping open at your quickened pace. “Oooh fuck.” Touching yourself is just what you needed. Your fingers were inches from sliding inside, your tight heat. Soon, you’d feel sweet relief.

Knock, Knock, knock.

Three quick taps hit the wall right where your ear was. Hurriedly, you pull away, staring at the wall in shock. A chuckle sounds from the other side of the wall before you hear footsteps heading across the floor, their door creaking open before the same quick knocks sound from your door. Ooooh fuck.

With shaky legs, you stand, heading to the door, slowly opening it. You inhaled sharply as a large hand pressed against it, forcing it open more. Suguru slowly leaned down, his face flushed, his hair a complete mess, and his lips swollen. His sudden closeness had you stepping further into your room.

His eyes took in your own flushed face, darting your legs that you clenched. “So Y/N,” he stepped inside your room, gently grabbing your chin, “you gonna keep playing with yourself? Or do you wanna pick up where we left off in the car?” You failed to find the words, stuttering and stumbling over your traitorous tongue. Suguru smiled gently, tilting his head to the side, waiting patiently for your answer.

Going next door to join them was insane, right? Yes. Were you going to do it? Fucking absolutely.

“Y-Yeah—-I wanna pick up where we left off.”

“Good girl.” Ever so slowly, Suguru brought your fingers to his mouth. His eyes trailed over them, still wet with your slick. “Come on.” He opened his mouth, kissed swollen lips wrapping around your fingers, sucking on them sinfully.

“Holy shit!” You cursed as he swirled his tongue around them.

When he could no longer taste your sweet, tangy essence, he pulled off with a pop. His tongue lolled out, swiping at the corner of his mouth. “We don't want to keep Satoru waiting.”

Everything was a blur, shutting your door and entering their Satoru’s room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back as he slowly grinned—a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Awe~ you actually came.” Satoru patted the side of the bed, his erection straining against his boxers. “Come sit, sit, noisy girl.”

You plopped down next to Satoru, swallowing as the two men looked over you. “Satoru, she told me she wasn't to pick up where we left off.” The white-haired man perked up, blue eyes glancing at you as he turned.

“You do?”

“Yes.” There wasn't a second of hesitation as you nodded. “Yes, I do!”

“Okay, well, in that case.” Sitting on his knees, Satoru whistled happily as he pulled you up onto your knees with him. “Get into position.” He turned your body so your back was turned towards him.

For a split second, you were face to face with Suguru, sitting at the head of the bed. He winked at you before you were pushed down to present your ass to Satoru from behind. A tiny gasp sounded from your throat as Suguru squeezed at the bulge in his sweats that you were face to face with. A small wet spot formed where his tip was leaking pre-cum against the gray fabric.

“Are you sure you're okay with this?” Thick, long fingers played with the elastic of your pajama shorts.

“Mhmm, I'm positive.”

With a final approval of consent, cold air hit your bare ass as your shorts were yanked down. Hissing at the sudden chill, you focused on Suguru’s hand. It was squeezing the bulge harder; the faintest groans rumbled in his chest. Your hands trailed over his thighs, his muscles twitching as you grabbed his waistband.

“Can I give you a hand?”

Suguru shook his head. “No, you may not.” His words stung, a pout forming on your lips. “You may, however, use your mouth.” You beamed up at him, tugging his pants down, freeing his massive erection that bobbed in the air.

“Oooh, it's so pretty.” Gently grabbing his shaft, you stroked it. “Thank you, Suguru.”

While you took Suguru’s cock in your mouth Satoru slapped your ass from behind, spreading your cheeks, looking at your dripping cunt with a needy groan. “Fuck, she's soaked. Did you get off on hearing us dry-humping Y/N?” You gave a little ‘mhm!’ around Suguru’s cock. “Oooh, what a little perv,” Satoru growled, smacking your ass harder.

“No, she's a good girl.” Sweet sighs left Suguru’s mouth as you peeked up at him. “Such a good girl, look at you sucking my cock~ so good.” One of his hands gently pressed your head, urging you to take more of him, while the other rested behind his head. “Fuck, Satoru, her mouth feels so good.”

You were taking more of Suguru’s cock into your throat when you felt Satoru rubbing the head of his cock over your entrance. Your eyes rolled back as you moaned, the tip of his cock back and forth over your slick folds. He hummed, locking his bottom lip with a smirk. “Yeah, down here feels good too~ she's so wet.” Hot, velvety skin slid up. “So wet I might slip inside.” Your eyes widened as his tip pressed past your tight entrance. “Oops~”

“Y/N~ did Satoru slip inside like he said he would?” You moaned in response, deep-throating Suguru as far as you could, gagging over his length. “Fuuck~ you like it? Being stuffed like this~? Your mouth and your pussy are being put to good use.” your eyes water as he gagged more, Suguru pushing you down to his base. Your nose brushing against trimmed black pubes.

“Nnngh fuck, she's twitching like crazy. She likes it~ no, she loves this~!” Suddenly, you were filled to the brim as Satoru slammed into you, gritting his teeth.

Body twitching, you shut your eyes tight, focusing on breathing as best as possible through your nose. But fuck, it was hard to concentrate as Satoru’s hips began rutting against you at a slow and steady pace. Your moans and gags muffled together as Suguru gently thrusts his hips up into your mouth, a whine.

Both men looked at you for a long moment, watching drool running out of the corners of your mouth and how you began rocking back against Satoru’s clock, begging for more. Their eyes locked, gleaming with a mixture of lust and pure, unfiltered need before Suguru leaned over, kissing Satoru.

His sudden movement had his cock pushing further down your throat. You gagged, pulling back to breathe. “Ah! Ah, fuck!” you cried out, grabbing Suguru’s cock in your hand and stroking him as Satoru began thrusting harder. His grunts slipped into Suguru’s mouth as their tongues melded together. You glanced up, watching as Suguru cupped Satoru’s face in both hands, deepening the kiss as his hips thrust into your hand.

Satoru looked like he was struggling to keep up, hips bucking madly against your ass while his tongue moved against Suguru’s in a way that you knew he liked. There was no fumbling around, just two insanely hot guys making out with you in the middle. Breaking the kiss, you watched Suguru gasp for air, his hair even more messy before he grabbed you by the hair, spanking your head up.

“Enjoying the show?” You whined as you nodded; Satoru was now hitting your g-spot head-on. “Ooh, you getting close?”

“Yeah, s-she—ngh fuck!” Skin slapped against the skin as Satoru leans forward, trailing kisses up your spine. “She's so tight, so fucking tight, she's gonna cum, gonna cum and milk me~! Fuck!”

You jerked your hand faster over Suguru’s spit-slicked cock. Your eyes glaze over as Satoru whimpers over your skin. The sight of the two of you slowly unraveling has Suguru tilting his head back with a snarl. The two of you made the cutest whines and whimpers as the overwhelming tension of a building orgasm twisted in both your cores. He wasn't going to last, not at all.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum.” Suguru yelled, body doubling over, his hand gripping your hair. “O-Open wide~”

“S-Sugu—Suguru!” Satoru watched as his best friend jerked himself madly over your tongue before he shoved his cock into your mouth. “Y-Yeah, fill her mouth, give her that cum.”

Suguru does precisely that; you moan as his cum fills your mouth, thick and salty with just a hint of sweetness to it. He doesn't stop; Suguru just keeps thrusting, moaning, and grunting as he pushes all his cum into your mouth, only stopping when he feels you swallowing around his softening cock. When he looks up from the top of your head, he sees Satoru’s face scrunch up. Eyebrows knitted together as his hips jerk madly against your ass.

“Oh fuck me~ fuck me I'm cummin’ haa ha fuck!” As ropes of cum paint your insides, Suguru quickly reaches down, rubbing your clit as you pull off his twitching cock.

“C-cumming!” Your hoarse voice called out, your hands gripping Suguru’s shirt to steady yourself. “S-Satoru—Sugu—c-cumm—”

“Aaahh fuck!” Satoru grunts out, head falling against your shoulder as you scream, squirting all over him.

He keeps fucking into you, working you both through the waves of your orgasms, pushing you both to the border of oversensitivity. It isn't until you are both trembling that Suguru pulls his hand back, chuckling weakly as his two spent lovers collapse on the bed. He's half tempted to get up, to grab a warm towel to clean all of you off, but he doesn't.

Not when Satoru gently presses his middle and index finger against your chin, turning your head toward him. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” He leans forward, kissing you softly. You return his kiss, moaning against his lips as he repositions your bodies. You sprawled out under him as he stayed slotted between your legs.

Satoru only breaks the kiss when he feels Suguru climb behind him. He doesn't get to ask what he’s doing because Suguru pushes his head down, encouraging him to kiss you more. Satoru keeps kissing you, eyes going wide as he feels the wet tip of Suguru’s cock pressing against his stretched and lubed hole.

“That’s it, keep kissing Y/N Satoru~ it's my turn to enjoy the show~!”

[chososdiscordkitten]

Kneel.

Synopsis: Priest!Nanami being completely and utterly tormented by nasty thoughts of reader (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Pairing: Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: pwp, plot before porn, catholicism, questioning faith, sooo much guilt, reader is 29, nanami is 34, reader kinda mysterious -.-

MDNI

Nanami’s life as a priest was busy- no time to be bored, nor time to yearn for more. Two or three funerals a month, mass every day- more than twice on Sundays. A handful of weddings a year, the many church groups he would oversee. His schedule was almost always fully booked.

His life was steady- a routine he followed every day. A life he was riding down happily. 

And when that peaceful life hit a bump, Nanami felt his life could be derailed entirely if he allowed it. 

‘I do it for my god.’

‘I do it for my parish.’

That’s what Nanami reminded himself of when your eyes would catch onto his. 

Preaching Sunday mass to the churchgoers- trying to direct his words to everyone. But whenever he did a scan of the room, his eyes stuck onto you for a brief moment.

Unable to shake the split-second thought of how you were the kind of woman he would have talked up in his 20s. He would shoo them aside before his expression could show what he was thinking. Placing his focus on preaching, instead of you.

You, who always sat at the very back of the church hall. And always with a questioning peak on your brow. 

But only you never stayed long enough after the service was over for him to properly introduce himself. Always walking out the minute the church-goers stood up to bid farewell to their neighbors. 

Even if he was held back by shaking hands- praising him for such a wonderful sermon. Nanami’s eyes still caught a glimpse of you that left the giant wooden doors of the church. Even more so, the clicking of heels against the tile- proud steps away from him as though you had completed your task.

Never did you stand for the sacramental wine nor the offering of the body of Christ. You only stayed in one of the pews at the very back and watched the line of merry people take them from his hands. A tilted head in curiosity with a small smile, as though you were poking fun at them in your mind. 

Day by day, sermon by sermon, you started inching towards him. One pew after the other. And when he finally noticed how close you had gotten, a mere 4 benches away from him. Nanami could see you up close now- the revealing collarbone that stood prominent with every inhale you took, the curve of your neck when you tilted it to the side. And every slight squint you would make as he spoke. 

Seeing you from a distance was one thing- being able to hide his catching gaze whenever he would address the flock. 

But now, he could see you even closer, his eyes catching onto how your lips would slightly purse. Almost in disbelief—when he would recite direct words from the Bible. Caused him to stutter over his words, excusing himself quickly before continuing. 

The part that made his mind reel was the congregation avoiding you. As though you weren’t even there. And Nanami knew this was impossible. A beautifully haunting churchgoer would’ve been swarmed by the single men of the church. 

But to you, they never mattered. Always swatting them away with one harsh look- at times, the aura you held was enough for them to steer clear. And the women of the flock didn’t find it very church-like that you did not greet them upon entry nor bid goodbye to your neighbors when the service was over. 

And the blatant isolation only made Nanami worry- knowing the church’s people can be judgemental at times. 

The Father blamed his priest nature for wanting to introduce himself. Knowing you had been attending for a few weeks now, and wanting to see if you were finding your way in the congregation.

Seven years wearing the white collar made Nanami think he had some sense when it came to acknowledging a troubled soul. However, the unfazed expression you would hold as he spoke and the slight look back at him when you would leave the church, left the man more troubled than you could ever be. 

At once, while he was speaking- preaching the words he carefully chose from the good book. Nanami’s eyes caught onto yours. Stuttering over his words as he watched you raise a brow and tilt your head, all with a vexing smile on your painted lips. 

As though you were taunting him for the stumbling, he saw it in the way you looked at him. Nanami felt your gaze on his skin as he spoke. Felt it burn into him with every word.

And when you finally lined up with the others during the eucharist. His jaw clenched, a sprinkle of nerves coating his hands as he watched glimpses of you through the line of people. Even lined up- you stood out. 

As you came closer to him with every person he gave the small wafer to, Nanami felt his heart start to pound. Never spoken to you- never even introduced himself. And his heart was racing. 

When you stood before him; Thick eyelashes and plump lips greeted him with a small smile. 

Blinking softly and looking up at him, parting your mouth and pressing the tip of your tongue to your bottom lip. Nanami inhaled, his hand lightly trembling as he held the little cookie. 

Looking into his eyes as he placed the weightless wafer to your bottom lip. His adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp, watching you pull the wafer into your mouth with a grin before leaving the line. 

The interaction wasn’t longer than a second- but it shook the Father to his core. Knowing that for the first time in the seven years of being in the priesthood, the first time since he was ordained– he had questioned his faith. 

For the rest of the mass, Nanami couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. With every blink, he saw a flash of you, softly batting your eyelashes up at him with your lips parted. Even more so when he would scan the audience and see your face, a smirk on your expression, as though you were aware of the torment you had inflicted on the priest. 

Nanami didn’t know what brewed in his soul; he had no clue what called him to you. Why you were so tempting. 

That evening, when the large room was emptied. The Father prayed. He prayed and repented for the wisping thoughts that dared enter his mind. 

‘Let me help this woman,’ he prayed, ‘Let me help you find your way.’ as though he was speaking to you directly, unaware of what plagued you or why you ended up in the church's halls. 

Pleading with the ethereal being in the clouds to help him. To help him see why you were put before him. And what lesson you were meant to teach him. 

Even as he was preaching the words written in the Bible. He would pray in his mind- begging the Lord to rid him of the plaguing thoughts of you.

When he would kneel, close his eyes, hold his hands together against his lips and pray to his god; Nanami always expected some divine insight to race into his mind once he rose from his knees. He always hoped his god would tell him how to fix his issues. 

And so far, it had been a one-sided conversation. 

Tuesdays were spent sitting on the uncomfortable wooden confessional bench, hearing the same issues the regular churchgoers would come to confess. 

‘Anger, gluttony, greed.’

It was always the same—the same menial sins from the same people. Nanami often wondered if they had not tired from the repetitiveness. If they were not as exhausted as he was from listening to the problems they refused to fix. 

After the last regular left the booth, Nanami checked his watch. Noting there was only 20 minutes before 6pm. Part of him wanted to leave the booth then and there. Lock the doors of the church and continue his work in the office. 

But something told him to stay. 

Knowing he was right as he heard the heavy doors open, and the light clacking of heels hitting tile. Getting closer and closer as the Father awaited the curtain next to him to open. 

He cleared his throat as he heard someone ease onto the wooden bench. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” he spoke, hearing your voice whisper an ‘amen’ along with him. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” 

Nanami closed his eyes- almost in pain hearing your voice ring through his ears. 

Silk and smooth as he expected. “It has been 14 years since my last confession.” your tone conveying a small smile- the same grin you would have on your lips during mass. 

The man couldn’t speak- his cheeks ran with slight tingles as he heard you. 

“I’ve committed a handful of sins, Father. I don’t know where to start.” tilting your head to the side and awaiting the mans guidance. 

He inhaled, shaking off the feeling of thinking it was you behind the screen. “Of all of them, which seems to be the one that weighs on you most?” his tone was steady- stark contrast to his pained expression. 

“The one that plagues me most-” lightly humming, almost taunting him as you thought. “May I be honest?” you spoke- hearing quiet shifting beside you. 

“Of course. Please- be honest.” Nanami urged, eager to know why you were placed in his path. Why you. 

The grin that arose on your cheeks was one that shouldn’t have. “I have been lusting after a man I shouldn’t be.” You spoke with a light rasp in your tone. Proud shoulders, not daring to falter their posture. 

Nanami clenched his jaw. Pondering if he genuinely wanted to tread through these waters. 

“I have thought vile things while in his presence.” spoken just shy of a whisper- loud enough for him to hear. “I try tempting him.” 

It wasn’t your words- nor the sultry tone you took that bothered the Father. It was how callous they fell from your lips. How easily you admitted these sins and how unapologetic you sounded. 

Even if you had not physically done anything— the sins were only committed in your mind—your confession showed him you were on the steps to show some kind of penance. 

“Do you know the ‘Act of contrition’ prayer?” Nanami asked, hoping the words would bring him back to stable ground. 

“I do.” you spoke softly, awaiting his instructions. 

Gulping softly, “Kneel.” he commanded, his tone sending a direct spike of warmth down your spine. 

Slowly shifting onto the ground, placing your elbows onto the wooden seat, and interlocking your fingers together. “Pray.” the Father spoke in a curt breath, his tone all but begging you to. 

You closed your eyes. “My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee,” softly reciting the prayer as the Father mouthed the words as you spoke them. 

Even as you recited the rest of the prayer- instead of helping, this only fed the rot growing in Nanami’s brain. Now, knowing you were aware enough of Catholicism and still thought of vile things, he refused to imagine.

And as he recited a prayer of absolution- he begged in his mind for you to pray for him as well.

Pray for him to find the strength to keep the box of carnal thoughts he locked away when he was anointed at bay. 

Even if the priest didn’t believe it, “God has freed you from your sins,” he said. “Go in peace.” knowing that, as it was on Sundays, you would go in peace, whereas Nanami would be left more troubled than when he started. 

And as he heard your voice whisper, ‘Thank you Father.’ before the clacking of heels descended onto the tiles. The thoughts inside that locked box dared to reawaken themselves. 

Thoughts he reserved only for his early twenties, no longer having the right to access them now. But you- you shoved the reservations aside. Made room for yourself in his mind- what plagued him most was how unsure he was if it really was you behind the wooden fence of the booth.

Nanami would be lying if he said he had never prayed as hard as he did once you left the confession box. Making sure to lock the church doors and light a candle. 

Standing at the center of the aisle, the statue of his god looking down at him with tears in his eyes. As though his god was disappointed in him.

Nanami fell to his knees, defeated and scared of what was planted into his brain. 

And as he started his prayer, the words sounded as though he was asking for mercy. Pleading with his god to forgive him, to rid him of you and the infiltrating things he pictured as you spoke. He begged for help on his hands and knees- even a light tear leaving his closed eye. 

Sunday’s morning mass came and went. Nerves filled his hands as he awaited the afternoon mass to start. 

Nanami awaited you- his eyes locking onto the door anytime it opened. He held off the mass as long as he could. And the realization that you were not showing up affected him more than it should have. 

And when afternoon mass started, he thought it might’ve been his fault. Had he assisted you better in your confession, maybe you would have shown up. 

Nanami made up a handful of excuses on your behalf, that you were sick- or just busy.

But none of them were true. None of the excuses Nanami made up satisfied him enough to still his mind. 

And as he was gathering his belongings from the lectern, the church empty and dim as he accumulated his thoughts. The sound of the large doors opening caused him to look up. 

The figure of you walking down the aisle in his direction, calf-length black dress and the same black heels that clacked against the tile. your cheeks lightly damp from the heavy rain that echoed through the halls.

Even dressed modestly- the sight of you still troubled the man. 

Nanami knew it was only you, him, and his god in that room now. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to use the congregation as an excuse to look away. 

He parted his lips to speak, only you spoke faster than he could- “Father, I was hoping we could talk.” a low tone- different from the one you used when you sat in the confessional. But speaking with the same ease that he heard the last time, it made him realize that ‘anonymous’ confession wasn’t anonymous anymore. Nanami was sure it was you now. 

And as though his prayers worked- your face looked almost remorseful. 

“Not as a confession.” you reiterated, causing the man to gulp lightly and try to gather his thoughts. “Just to talk.” 

Ending up sitting in his office- a small room at the very back of the church. Small windows being pelted with heavy raindrops.

Set up in the same way a principal’s office would be. Sitting across from him, desk separating you from the priest. 

Even if he sat in the chair that technically held the power- the aura that surrounded you made a chill run down his spine when he eased into his chair. 

“How are you finding the congregation?” he asked, words he had been thinking since he noticed your seclusion. And being able to ask you without worrying it wasn't you sitting beside him. 

Crossing your ankles and lightly easing onto the arm of the chair, you softly smiled, “The people are kind. I know I can sometimes come off standoffish; they still try.” 

Nanami felt a tension in his throat, as if he had taken an overly large bite of a meal he wasn’t ready for. “I had noticed you had not engaged with the others.”  

“Did you?” you asked- taking on that little upturn in your tone. Your low eyes watch the man before you gulp. The white collar became tight from the words that sounded all too tantalizing than they should have. 

“It made me worry.” he looked down at the calendar on his desk- full of black pen marks of that month’s activities. 

You lightly furrowed your eyebrows, “Worry?” 

“Worry that you weren’t finding your way in the church.” he reiterated, trying to shake away the nerves and make this as you asked. Just a talk. 

Nanami wanted to bring up your confession- he needed to know why you wanted to tempt a man. He wanted to know if you were speaking of him. 

“When I see you leave immediately after the service,” he continued, feeling the light searing your gaze onto his skin. 

“I never had the chance to properly introduce myself-” he spoke, flashing his eyes at you. 

“Do you introduce yourself to every new church member, Father?” You asked, words that almost made the man cough. 

“I try to.” he admitted. Even if every cell in his brain told him to lie- to say ‘Yes, I do.’ 

“I imagine it’s quite difficult- so many people.” you thrummed, softly turning your head to the side and looking at the walls. Decorated with old paintings that had been hung there long before Nanami had been anointed. 

His mind reeling with questions a priest shouldn't ask a member of his flock.

“I am.” you hummed, looking back at the man whose eyes widened slightly. Unsure if you had heard his thoughts or- “Finding my way in the church.” elaborating on his confusion. 

“Were you raised catholic?”

The little grin that rose on your cheeks should’ve told him everything, but it only caused more confusion for the man. “I was,” you mumbled, looking at the body language he held as he sat. 

Tense broad shoulders that made your thighs press together whenever your eyes caught them. A furrowed brow that would twitch when you started speaking. “Around 16 or so, I left the church.” 

“And what brought you back?” he spoke—clearer and without fault. He aimed his intentions at helping you instead of trying to aid his wandering conscious. 

Looking down to your hands, “When I moved back here- something told me to come see the church.” lightly shifting in the chair as you spoke, “Imagine my surprise when I saw a priest I wasn’t expecting, walk before the congregation.” 

He took those words as a negative- as though you were disappointed that he greeted you and not another priest. 

“Were you raised in the church?” you asked softly, watching his eyebrows pinch in the slightest. 

He took a light breath- “I was.” nodding softly and recalling the memories of his youth. There was a small silence- waiting for him to continue as he expected your voice to speak up. Knowing this was to counsel you- not the other way around. 

“Continue, Father, please.” watching his eyes squint and think on it. 

Lightly clenching his teeth, he said, “I went to an all-boys Catholic school.” He softly blinked, looking down at his hands.  

“So you always wanted to be a priest?” you asked, the question coming off more sarcastic than genuine. 

He scoffed with a small hearty laugh- clearing his throat and sitting up. “No- no, I didn’t want to join the priesthood until I was 23.” he elaborated, watching you softly nod. 

“What made you turn back to religion?” repeating the question he had asked you earlier, only with a more seductive tone.

‘Because of haunting women like you.’ was all he could think as you awaited his answer. 

“I wanted to help people—I want. To help,” he said, words he hoped you would hear and pick up on his urge to assist you. 

In your mind, a sneering comment flashing in red- 'You want to help?' almost like a challenge.

“When I came to confess earlier this week-” you brought it up. That’s what Nanami held onto in his mind. You brought it up. He didn’t. 

“I still felt plagued by what I spoke to you about, father.” looking at him with a sprinkle of feigned sincerity in your eyes. 

Only to the man before you- that false sincerity was seen as an urge to rid yourself of your sins. 

His face was still- unshowing any emotion that throbbed in his mind. And you took it as him not remembering. “I recited the prayer of contrition,” you spoke- some attempts to remind him. 

Only the Father knew precisely what you were referring to. “I remember.” he assured, softly nodding and allowing you to continue. 

“After- I felt even worse.” Bowing your head to hide the smile on your cheeks as you toyed with your hands. “They didn’t stop after I left- if anything,” the words spilled from your lips, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin from what you were insinuating. 

“They got worse- more filthy; once I left, Father.” your expression hidden from him- and your tone soft, hinting that this indeed plagued you. 

You sighed, “It was unbearable.” accentuating the word with a pained tone. Smiling to yourself, “I’m sure you know the feeling, Father- as though one light breeze would make you combust at that moment.” 

 “I couldn’t even bring myself to come-” Nanami’s hand dared to clench at your words, “-to Mass this morning; that’s how shameful I felt.”

Answering Nanami’s question without having to ask it- “I thought it would be less frowned upon if I stepped into the church after mass.” 

Nanami gulped at the insinuation- all too fearful of what you spoke of. “Have you prayed on this?” he asked, air threatening to choke his words. 

Looking up at him with pinched brows, lips parted ever so slightly. “I have never prayed so much in my life before this.” 

Your words conflicted with. If you were so godly and sure of Catholicism. Why do your eyes tell him another story? Why do your eyes glimmer with hints of intent- as though you were looking at prey?

“Why do you think these thoughts have yet to leave you?” he spoke- words he said as a priest but meant as a person. 

“I think a masochistic part of me urges me to continue returning to the cause.” Words that rung true in his ears- knowing that he was the same. That, he very much could have excused you- tell you he was busy or that he could not talk at that moment. 

But the same as you, Nanami allowed himself to allow you access to him. The excuse of closure and the urge to help, used to defend himself to the god above him. 

Spoken in a whisper, “Like an itch I can’t scratch.” the Father started contemplating how far it would be if he admitted to the same thing- how bad it would truly be, if he confessed that the very same thing had plagued him.

Nanami was about to part his lips to speak- but the little reminder on his phone rang beside him. Looking down and seeing it- a parish meeting. “Maybe we should continue this next week.” he spoke- almost relieved that he would be able to escort you from the room thick with tension. 

“Have I taken too much of your time, father?” you asked- voice churned with the slightest hint of false distress. 

Nanami inhaled- “Not at all.” with a smile, “I just have a parish meeting in a few minutes.” he excused. Pushing his chair back and standing. 

And as he walked you past the church’s pew benches- a few inches to your side. “How does next Sunday sound?” he spoke, a low tone laced with the tiniest hit of smugness.

Shoes clicking against the tile as he walked. And as you turned your head over to him, a mindless hand was placed on your back. The lightest touch guiding you towards the door. 

“Sunday is perfect, Father.” you mumbled, watching his hand open the large door and await you to step out. 

And as he watched you leave his church- he almost closed his eyes in relief. 

Thinking of the movement Nanami hadn’t made since his days in college- a little action he would use on the opposite gender. It flustered him more now than it ever did. 

Life as a priest didn’t require him to touch women- ever so often holding their hands in his as they spoke to him. A handshake, a side hug from the overly enthusiastic housewives after his services. 

But that touch- the feeling of your back pressed against his palm. It sent shocks of fear mixed with excitement down his spine. 

During the entire parish meeting; the Father’s mind was fogged. Unsure what he was getting into- or why he was so determined to walk head first into this. Even if it was you who caused him to contemplate his life in the priesthood. 

Nanami would help you find your way, even if it killed him trying to. Reminding himself of the words in his mind. 

‘I do it for my god.'

'I do it for my parish.’

-

PT 2

(a.n) ....hehe

[sceletaflores]

working it out (on the remix)

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x fem!reader summary: you sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. you should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t going to get the three of you anywhere.

—or: three tennis players walk into a hotel room.

word count: 5.5k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, smoking, fighting as foreplay, mean!reader my beloved, the patrick and art gay agenda, threesome, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!), not quite hate sex more like angry sex, double penetration, oral sex (m!receiving), choking, finger sucking, degradation, creampies, lowkey sub!patrick coded, switch!art ofc, porn with a plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: oh em gee part three is here!!! i literally always say this but i had so much fun writing this one lol thank you so much for showing this series so much love right off the bat! i've loved loved loved reading all the ideas you guys have sent me for future chapters and trust when i say that i'll definitely be featuring as many as i can. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.

tftw series masterlist!

Art is fuming. You keep glancing over at him to check that smoke isn't starting to blow out of his ears. It doesn't, but he's just as mad every time. Standing in the doorway huffing and puffing, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Patrick down from across the room. 

Patrick is the complete opposite, all relaxed body language and easy half-smiles as he coolly stares back. You’d make a fire and ice joke if you didn’t think it would send Art over the edge.

He’s sitting in the room’s single chair, window cracked open so he can smoke. He’s practically naked, wearing an unbuttoned long sleeve and the tiniest boxers you’ve ever seen. His bare feet are propped up on the corner of the bed you’re sitting on. 

You’re perched cross legged on the mattress, basically stuck in the middle of them.

You’re still surprised you even got Art to show up at all. You thought he almost flipped the table when you brought up Patrick at lunch, casually mentioning that you’ve been texting him for the past couple of days and you think the three of you need to talk. He was quiet for a long time before he finally asked if that meant Patrick was, has been, in town. You just shook your head yes.

You didn’t tell him you and Patrick slept together, you didn’t need to.

He went quiet again, stood up from his chair with an excuse of being late to class and stomped out of the dining hall. You texted him the address to Patrick’s hotel an hour later.

Art never responded, but his jeep was still waiting for you outside the biology building after your last lecture got out. He would always drive you back to your dorm since you’d get out so late, but this time he turned out of the campus lot and silently drove until you realized he was going to the hotel.

Now you’re here, and it's been almost ten minutes since you knocked on the door to Patrick’s room. And no one has said anything the entire time. No one has even moved, only Patrick every so often when he needs to flick his ashes out the window. A thick blanket of tense silence falls heavy over the three of you. It makes the room’s temperature feel that much hotter. The shitty air conditioner hums faintly in the background.

“So,” you say slowly, voice finally piercing through the quiet, “Am I gonna have to be the first to talk again or–”

“God, I don’t know,” Art cuts in tersely, not looking away from Patrick as he does, ”I can’t believe I don’t have anything to say to the guy that fucked my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Both you and Patrick ask sharply, opposing tones of shock and amusement blending together.

Art's eyes narrow, a storm brewing in the blue of them. He’s still looking at Patrick, talking about you like you’re not sitting right in front of him. "Yeah, my girlfriend. Did I stutter?" His chest is puffed out just enough for you to notice, his mouth pulled down at the corners in a deep frown.

You blink, caught off guard. Art’s never asked you to go steady with him, you’ve never even been on a date. Unless you count fucking in the back of his jeep at a drive in theater a date, then sure, you’ve been on one date. Regardless, the possessive timbre of his voice has something warm simmering under your skin.

Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “Well, this is fucking news to me,” he says through a chuckle, eyes flicking between the two of you bemusedly, “I didn’t realize you guys were playing house, but that does makes a lot more sense now.” He gestures to your chest with his free hand, pointing out the dark blue sweatshirt you’re wearing.

‘Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy’ is stitched across the front in thin black thread; you'd stolen it from Art’s closet when you slept over at his dorm a few nights ago. He never asked for it back.

“It’s cute that you kept my shirt, Donaldson.” Patrick teases, lolling his head to the side lazily so he can look at Art through his lashes. A plume of smoke billows from between his lips, slipping through the open window slowly. “Even after you tried to turn my girlfriend against me and fucked her behind my back first–”

“Fuck you, Patrick–” Art starts, face twisted in a scowl. His hands ball into fists at his side, jaw ticking with anger.

Patrick doesn’t look deterred, leaning forward in his chair as he tries to talk over Art, “You’re such a fucking hypocrite–”

“I’m not anyone’s girlfriend,” you cut them both off, brows drawn together in frustration, “—and I’m not going to let this turn into some weird pissing contest between you two. We’re here to talk.”

Art scoffs agitatedly, casting his eyes to the ceiling. “Looks like the two of you have done plenty of talking without me,” he says bitterly. “Do you get off on this shit or something? On sticking your dick where it doesn’t fucking belong?”

Patrick smirks, leaning back in his chair, arms draped lazily over the armrests. “God, you really do think you’re innocent in this,” he laughs incredulously, leaning back in his chair. “You’re acting like you’ve got some moral high ground, but you don’t. You’re just as guilty of playing the game as I am.”

Art’s face darkens further, anger threatening to boil over. “This isn’t a game to me, Patrick,” he spits, tone hard and low, “I’m so sick of you treating everything like a goddamn joke.”

Patrick’s smirk doesn’t falter. “I never said it was a joke,” he says with a shrug, tone easy and nonchalant. “I’m just saying, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror before you start pointing fucking fingers. I’m not the only one who’s played dirty here.”

“Patrick–” you warn, sitting up straighter. You can feel the way the air changes, the way the animosity gets turned up. The last thing you need is for them to start throwing punches.

Art cuts you off, shaking his head in contempt. “You’re so full of shit. You don’t fucking care about her. You never did. You just want to win, because you can’t stand the thought of losing to me.”

Patrick groans loudly, throwing his head back with it. “We’re really going back to this again? Jesus Christ, give it up man. It’s not like she was ever really yours to begin with.” He takes another slow drag from his cigarette, eyes never leaving Art.

The jab hits its mark, you can see it on Art’s face. In the way he physically recoils, the way he takes a ragged breath through his nose, the way the muscles of his jaw work furiously. For the first time since you fucked Patrick, you feel like a fucking bitch. The familiar feeling of guilt wraps its tendrils around you, weighing you down into the mattress like a physical force.

It gives you an idea, the guilt. It's a filthy idea, one that has heat stirring between your legs at just the thought. It’s a good way to make this whole situation up to Art, a good way to let him get under Patrick’s skin the same way he’s getting under his.

You sit in the angry silence, gears slowly turning in your head as you look between your boys. You should have known that this wasn't going to work, clearly just talking isn’t getting the three of you anywhere.

You sigh, overly dramatic and long suffering, scooting down until your legs are hanging over the edge of the mattress. Art and Patrick watch you the entire time, eyes finally leaving each other to watch your hands settle on the hem of Patrick’s sweatshirt.

“You guys are being so difficult. Why did I think that you could behave enough to talk this out like big boys?” You tug it off in one swift move, tossing it to the side carelessly. Two sharp gasps ring out, two sets of greedy eyes roam the bare expanse of your torso. You hadn’t worn a bra today.

You smirk, standing from the mattress and hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your sweats. You push them down your legs slowly, making a show of it until you're only in the pair of light purple panties you slipped on this morning. Patrick smirks, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and yanking it closed. He goes to stand, Art pointedly takes a single threatening step forward as he does but you stop both of them in their tracks. 

“No.” Your voice rings through the small room, loud and commanding. Patrick sits back down almost immediately, his brow raising in confusion. Art does the same, freezing with one foot in front of him. They’re both hard, cocks tenting the fabric of their bottoms. Their boners point towards each other, you bite your lip to hide your smile. 

“You’ve been so bad, Ricky.” you scold softly, voice syrupy sweet as you lean back on the bed. “Dressed up like an easy whore in here waiting for us, being so mean to Art, fucking his girl…” You trail off boredly, palms braced flat on the bed behind you so you can lean back as casually as you can muster. You let your legs fall open, spread enough to let Patrick and Art see the wet spot slowly seeping into the fabric.

You can hear Art’s sharp inhale from across the room at your words, his girl. You’re still careful not to say girlfriend, that’s a whole other talk. Patrick squirms in his chair, practically itching with the need to say something. You level him with a hard look, a firm shake of your head keeps him quiet. When you finally turn your attention to Art, he meets your gaze easily, eyes already blown out and glassy. Even from here you can see the way his pupils swallow the pretty blue color.

You smile, lips curling up in a wicked smile. “Art,” you coo softly, reaching your hand out in offering, “come here.” 

Art’s walking towards you without a second thought, crossing the room in just a few large steps. You smile at him, patting the spot next to you. The bed creaks as he sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight slides you closer to him. ”I think,” you say slowly, resting your hand high up on his thigh, so close to the hard line of his cock straining against the fabric, “that we need to teach Patrick a lesson on manners.”

“What! No fucking way, that’s bullshi–” Patrick fusses from the corner, sitting up straighter in seat, the armrest gripped tight in his left hand.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, whipping your head to the side to glare at him. “This isn’t about you.”

He frowns, pushing out his bottom lip like an actual child. You just barely fight the urge to roll your eyes, an evil smile spreading across your face as you watch him honest-to-God pout.

“This is about Art,” you slide your hand up higher, cupping him through his loose shorts. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, a quiet ‘fuck’ falls from his lips as you apply more pressure to where your hand is steadily rubbing him up and down. “Plus, you’re already in the cuck chair,” you aren’t able to stop the small chuckle that falls from your lips, “you’ve got a perfect view.”

His pink lips part ever so slightly, eyes going wide and hungry at your words. You throw him one last devilish smile before you’re sinking to your knees in front of the bed. The scratchy carpet digs into your knees but you don’t care, not when Art is towering in front of you with the ceiling lights shining around him like he’s an angel.

You smile up at him, dragging the palms of your hands up and down his thighs. “Take your shirt off,” you encourage, slipping your hands up to toy with the hem of his shorts.

He complies beautifully, pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the lean, toned muscles of his torso. You let your eyes linger on him for a moment, appreciating the sight before returning your attention to your task. Your fingers deftly undo the drawstring of his shorts, and start tugging them down. Art lifts his hips enough for you to drag them all the way down his legs, taking his boxers with them to free his hard cock.

Again, you slide your hands up the bare skin of his thighs, inches away from where he wants them. He’s so hard, cock standing straight up in an angry red line against his stomach. The tip drools pre-cum that leaks down the length of him slowly.

Art's breath hitches, his eyes locked onto you with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Your fingers brush lightly over his upper thighs, before you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, feeling the heat of his arousal pulse against your palm. His gasp is sharp, and you silently revel in the power you hold over him in this moment.

You glance over at Patrick, who is staring wide-eyed, his earlier irritation replaced with a raw, unfiltered hunger.

Your lips curl into a smug smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the way his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. “See something you like, Patrick?” you taunt, giving Art a slow, deliberate stroke that has him groaning softly. Patrick’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching, but he stays silent, his gaze locked on the two of you.

Art's hands grip the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning white. "Fuck," he breathes out, his voice strained, "you're killing me."

You laugh softly, a dark, melodic sound, and lean forward, letting your tongue flick out to taste the bead of precum at the tip of his cock. Art moans, the sound vibrating through you. You glance up at him through your lashes, seeing the way his head tilts back, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

You slide your lips up the length of his leaking cock, teasing and slow. Art stares down at you, not breaking eye contact as he breathes raggedly through his nose.

“Tell him how it feels,” you whisper against the pink tip of his cock, sliding it back and forth across your lips teasingly. Art swallows hard, skin flushing in embarrassment.

“So good…” he whispers, eyes still locked onto yours. His blush goes from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, spreading pink and warm across the strong muscle of his pecs.

You smile, shaking your head softly. “Don’t tell me, tell him.” You jerk your head in Patrick’s direction once before you sink down until your nose is nestled against the soft blonde hair at the base of his cock, working your throat around the length of him. 

Art moans loudly, his hands coming up to tangle into your hair. You keep going, fighting his grip on you as you start to bob your head over his cock in a steady rhythm, working your hand in time with your mouth.

He forces himself to look at Patrick, catching his eyes.

Patrick looks fucked, lips slick and dropped open as he stares back Art, hungry gaze not wavering. His cock is still hard, pressed against the seam of his boxers and leaking a steady patch of wetness around the head. 

A silent challenge seems to pass between the two of them.

We doing this or what?

Art refuses to back down, hardening his resolve. “Feels so fucking good,” he groans, not looking away from Patrick, “her throat’s so tight, so– God, it’s so good. Best I’ve ever had.”

He’s rambling, not even making any sense but you hum in approval all the same, your tongue curling around the crown. Patrick doesn’t look like he minds too much either, pink tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip. "Please," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear. "Let me..."

You pull off Art with a wet pop, turning your head as best you can with his hand still tangled in your hair to fix Patrick with a steely gaze. "You don't get to make requests," you say, your voice hard. "You get to watch and learn."

Patrick's eyes darken, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he doesn't protest. Art lets out a low growl, his hand tightening its grip on your hair and dragging your mouth back to his cock.

“Stop fucking talking to him,” he demands, hips thrusting to fuck back into your mouth. You choke on the sudden fullness, wetness floods your panties as you moan around him.

Yes, you think, eyes squeezing close as you force your throat to relax around his cock, this is what I wanted.

You were waiting to see how long it’d take Art to snap, he lasted longer than you thought he would. The head of his cock punches against the soft, spongy part at the back of your throat. You fight to not gag around him, hands scrambling for purchase on his thighs. His balls slap against your chin roughly, sticking wetly to the drool that's starting to fall from the corners of your lips.

Art meets Patrick’s eye again, a smug smirk on his face as he jerks his head in a clear invitation, “Come here.” He grunts simply, dragging you up and down the length of his cock by his tight grip on your hair.

Patrick practically sprints from the chair, ripping his shirt off while he tries to kick his boxers off before he reaches the bed. He sits next to Art, chest heaving as he stares down at where your lips stretched obscenely over his best friend's cock. 

Art pulls you off by your hair, holding your face a few inches away from his spit covered cock. He tuts at you sympathetically, tilting his head to the side with a tiny frown at the sight of you all teary eyed. “Bet you feel real empty, right?” he asks sadly, shaking your head back and forth like a dog. “That greedy pussy wants our cocks stretching her open, doesn't she?”

You whine loudly, nodding your head as best you can as the meaning of Art’s words sink over you. You feel far away, like you’ve already been fucked six ways to Sunday. You cunt clenches around nothing, aching for Art and Patrick’s cocks bullying their way inside you. You’ve never done anything like that before, taken two guys at once, but God do you need it.

Art nods back, brows pulled together in faux pity. “Pat and I will help baby,” he says sweetly, “You just gotta get nice and stretched out first, need to fuck yourself open on Patrick’s cock so you can take us.”

“Fuck yeah,” Patrick breathes, already moving up the bed to lay flat on his back agasint the pillows. His cock sticking straight out from his body, pointing to the ceiling desperately.

Art lets go of your hair, cupping the side of your face tenderly. His thumb rubs against the soft skin of your cheekbone a few times, you know it’s a question. 

Do you want this?

You smile, nuzzling his palm and giving his thumb a playful nip. The answer to his question written all over your face.

Fuck yes.

Art smiles back, nodding his head once. You take the hint, rising from your knees to climb onto the mattress. You slide your panties off, tossing them aside as you crawl up the length of Patrick’s body, straddling his hips and wasting no time in sinking down on his cock.

Art settles next to the two of you, hand loosely gripped around his cock as he starts to lazily stroke himself to the sight of you and Patrick.

“Fuck!” Patrick hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips fiercely as you start to ride him, not giving either of you anytime to adjust. The stretch burns, the lack of prepping before hand makes it sting. You don’t mind, too worked up to care. 

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” He tries, but you cut him off bringing your free hand to wrap around the column of his throat just like he did to you back in the shower.

“You’re the slut,” you growl, fingers digging into his skin roughly. His eyes widen, plush lips going slack. You speed your hips up, the loud smack each time you drop down onto him echoes through the room. “You’re the easy fucking whore that soaked your panties watching your best friend fuck my throat."

Art huffs out a breath, hand slipping over his cock faster as he watches you ride Patrick. His eyes are trained on the way your hand is wrapped against Patrick’s throat. He slips his free hand down, pressing two fingers against Patrick’s cock so you slide down onto them on the next bounce.

“Fuck!” You keen loudly, grip tightening on Patrick’s throat. Art’s fingers add to the sting of your cunt, but your hips don’t stop moving, even as he slips in a third just as fast.

You get lost in it, in the feeling of Patrick’s dick fucking into you so deeply you swear he’s hitting your cervix with every roll of your hips, Art’s fingers stretching you that much wider.

Suddenly, Art drops his cock so his free hand can latch onto your hips, his strong grip forcing you to stop your desperate bouncing. His fingers slip out of you, you immediately miss the stretch.

Patrick groans in displeasure, his hips buck up like he’s trying to slide back into the warmth of your fucked open cunt. His leaking head bumps against your sensitive clit a few times before Art’s dropping his hand down, gripping Patrick’s cock to line it up with his own.

Art slides up behind you, his sweaty chest pressing firmly against your back. “Should be stretched out enough,” He whispers into the nape of your neck, pressing both tips against your fluttering hole.

The shock of it has your hand slipping off Patrick’s throat to anchor onto his shoulders in a feeble attempt to brace yourself. He sucks in large gasps of air, chest heaving as he stares down to where his cock is pressed snug against Art’s, his hand big enough to almost wrap around them both. He throws his head back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, I can’t watch,” he gasps, voice low and ragged. 

Art laughs smugly, but it’s breathy around the edges and you can feel the way his hand shakes on your hip. “Close already, Pat?” He asks condescendingly, as his fingers dig in a little tighter. “You’re not even doing any of the work.”  

You try to focus on the sensation of Art’s grip, but your mind is a haze of overstimulation and the throb of Patrick’s cock against you. Art’s mocking tone sends a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how close you are to the edge yourself. Your greedy cunt clenches around them, trying to suck them in you.

Patrick’s breath stutters, his hips jerking up involuntarily, making a strangled noise that’s half-groan, half-whimper. “Fuck you, man,” he manages to grind out, but his voice is trembling and strained, the bite in his tone gets undercut by how wrecked he sounds. You can feel the barely there twitches of his hips, like he’s physically pained from having to wait any longer.

A sharp cry rips from your throat as they finally start to slide in, both heads popping into your tight hole all at once. Your eyes screw shut at the stretch, thighs shaking where they’re spread over Patrick’s hips.

“Someone kiss me,” you gasp desperately, chin lowering to your chest. Art’s moving before the words finish leaving your mouth, gripping a fistful of Patrick’s hair and dragging him up to your lips. You whine into his mouth, letting his tongue slide between your lips to claim your mouth.

The familiar feeling of his lips on yours relaxes you the tiniest bit, letting Art lower you down a few more inches. It feels like hours as you sink onto them, Art’s big hands gently massaging your hips while Patrick’s greedy fingers pull and paw at your thighs.

It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard Patrick. His lips going slack in awe against yours as Art’s cock slides up next to his, moaning into your mouth when your hips go flush with his.

They feel so huge inside you, so thick you swear you can feel them in your stomach. Bullying your insides into making more room for the both of them.

“Fuck," you gasp, nails digging little crescent moons into Patrick’s shoulders. Every inch of you is alive with sensation, a burning mix of pleasure and pain. Art’s breath is hot and ragged against your ear, whispering sweet encouragements, “It’s okay baby, you’re okay, taking us so fucking good–” 

You nod, slowly starting to grind your hips back and forth, gasping when they rub up against the soft spot inside of you that has you clenching in pleasure– practically choking them off at the base. A high moan falls from your lips, hips swirling the tiniest bit faster that have both Art and Patrick growl out matching groans of approval.

“Just like that,” Art whispers into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Gonna make him come first, or are you gonna beat him to it?” The challenge in his voice sends a jolt of heat through you, your thighs starting to shake with every pass of them over that spot.

“God, ah! Art– fuck, mh, Patrick–” You slur, head already starting to go fuzzy

“Fuck,” Art gasps out your name sharply, pushing you down onto Patrick’s chest so he can start fucking into your loose, sloppy cunt. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” his hand grips the back of your neck to pin you down, throwing all his strength behind the snap of his hips.

“Shit, look at you,” Patrick chuckles weakly pinching your hips hard, trying to seem less affected than he really is. “You’re so fucking gone. All that attitude needs is some dick to fix it, huh?”

You crack your eyes open, blearily searching until you zero in on his face. He’s smiling smugly, eyes blown out and hazy.

“Shut the fuck up,” you spit weakly, raising your hand to shove your index and middle finger between his parted lips. You push back far enough to feel his throat constricting against your fingers, letting him gag on you. Your eyes trace the side of his face, down the slope of his nose to where his cherry red lips are lewdly spread around your fingers. 

You can distantly hear Art groan behind you, his hips speeding up impossibly faster. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers digging into your sensitive skin meanly. You hook your fingers behind Patrick’s teeth, dragging his face to the side to meet your eye. Patrick moans around your fingers, gazing at you pleading through half lidded eyes. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, drenching your wrist. His hot, wet tongue sliding along the pads of your fingers feels scalding.

Patrick's hands are everywhere, pulling, pinching, caressing, his touch a maddening mix of rough and tender. The feeling of him inside you, alongside Art, is almost too much to bear, making you gasp for breath. Your moans are a symphony of pleasure and desperation, each one a plea for more, more, more the closer you get the edge.

“Shit, ah, Art, ah!” Your feet scrabbled uselessly against the sheets, the fingers of your free hand twist Patrick’s hair roughly. “I’m gonna come— Mm, ah! I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Art goads, the rhythm of his hips not faltering, “Come on baby– fuck yeah– fucking soak these dicks–”

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, your vision whites out around you as the entire world shrinks down to the stretch of your gushing cunt around Art and Patrick. The slight burn of them, the fullness, the unrelenting pace of Art’s hips stinging the skin of your ass on each thrust. 

Patrick bites down on your fingers with a broken whine just as Art sinks his teeth into your neck, both of them groaning so loud it’s all you can hear. That and the faulty rhythm of Art’s hips snapping against the meat of your ass in loud ‘cracks’. 

They come together, and you can feel it.

You can feel every twitch and jerk of their cocks inside you as they spray the walls of your cunt with their releases. Spurt after spurt of hot come claiming you as theirs, filling you to the brim. Art doesn’t stop, working the three of you through your orgasms. Each thrust fucks more of their come out of you, the lewd squelch of it leaking from of your loose hole to gather around the base of their cocks in two matching creamy rings makes your ears burn.

Just as it gets to be too much, when the pleasure starts to give way into biting overstimulation, Art stops. You’re slumped against Patrick, shaking like a leaf when Art starts to pull out as gently as he can. You hiss when the head of his cock slips out, thighs clenching together.

“Sorry,” he whispers sweetly, giving your shoulder a gentle kiss. He practically man handles you off of Patrick’s cock, lifting your hips up and off of him.

Patrick groans, stomach twitching in oversensitivity as your slick walls slide against his spent dick. Finally he slips out, his drenched cock falling to slap onto his stomach. There come rushes out of you, dripping sticky and thick down your inner thighs. 

There’s sweat dripping down your temple when you fall onto the mattress, your back sticks to the sheets but you’re too out of it to care. Art collapses next to you, sandwiching you between him and Patrick. The three of you are quiet, chests heaving as you catch your breath. Patrick’s hairy thigh is pressed to yours, firm and toned. Art’s got an arm slung over your waist, his breath puffs hot against your neck.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” you say breathlessly, voice raspy and hoarse. “It could work. We could make it work, the three of us.”

Art and Patrick are quiet, their silence heavy with contemplation. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling, more nervous bringing this up than you thought you’d be. The room is filled with the sounds of your collective breaths, mingling with the lingering scent of sweat and sex.

Patrick chuckles, you can feel his curls brushing against your shoulder as he shakes his head in dry amusement. "Yeah, because everything about this screams 'healthy relationship,'" he quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Art lets out a soft, exasperated sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. "We don't have to decide anything right now," he says, his voice low and steady. "Let's just...see where this goes."

You feel a rush of relief at his words, but Patrick’s hesitancy still gnaws at the edges of your mind. Patrick shifts beside you, his hand skirting lightly over your arm in a rare moment of tenderness.

"Guess we're in uncharted territory, huh?" he murmurs, his tone uncharacteristically serious. 

You laugh, finally daring to glance at both of them, a tentative smile forming on your lips. "Yeah, but maybe that's not such a bad thing."

Art and Patrick look back at you with matching grins wide enough to show their teeth, blonde and black hair fanning around their faces like halo’s under the room’s shitty fluorescent light. Your heart swells under the intense stare of two pairs of eyes, one blue and one green. You can feel the room start to fade away until it’s just the three of you and nothing else seems to matter.

Art leans down, giving your right shoulder a quick kiss. “If we’re doing this, we have to be honest with each other.” He looks between you and Patrick pointedly, but he’s still smiling. “No more bullshit games.”

Patrick snorts, letting his head fall back onto the pillows, “Yes sir.” 

You nod, not bothering to hide your smile. "No bullshit, no games," you agree, moving to squeeze Art's hand. He squeezes back in a silent promise.

The three of you lie there in a comfortable silence, the weight of your decision settling over you. It's definitely not going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, it could work.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[haveagarbageday]

The joy of missing out \\ Lando Norris

summary: You and Lando celebrate your birthday on the same day. While he's planning a big party, you'd rather spend the night on your own. Not like he's gonna let that happen…

additional info: Alpine!driver!reader. Have you heard "The joy of missing out" by AleXa? No? That's what I was listening to while writing this.

This year you didn’t feel like celebrating your birthday. You just wanted to stay under the warm blanket, binge-watching your favorite comfort show and eating pizza all day.

You weren’t really on speaking terms with your family after a stupid argument at a family gathering last year, and your old friends believed you changed a lot since you joined F1, so they weren’t exactly keen to spend time with you either, especially after you relocated to Monaco like so many of the drivers did. This left you getting more and more comfortable with the idea of being alone, spending your limited free time in your apartment instead of attending parties you were invited to.

On the most recent race weekend though, Lando and Oscar caught you in the paddock and the three of you started chatting, soon being joined by other drivers, and the conversation shifted to Lando’s upcoming birthday. They were planning on partying together, even now they were talking about who would bring who, if they should spend the night at the same place, or move around, maybe heading to the place of one of them.

It was only after a good ten minutes that something dawned on Lando. “Wait, your birthday is on the same day,” he told you, the little light bulb above his head almost visible. “That’s great! You should invite your friends too!” The Brit got excited at the thought, but when he noticed you were just shaking your head, he could tell you would say no to the whole thing. “You’re not planning on missing out, are you?”

As you let out an annoyed groan, the others began to try and convince you, saying it was great that they could celebrate not one, but two birthdays that year, and you were like everyone’s little sister, you were practically family, so this party was mandatory for you. Last year you missed it because you were with your family and friends back home, spending time with them as you usually did when you had the time, but this year it was an open secret that you’d rather retreat into your shell after race weekends.

“Guys, I just… don’t feel like celebrating, that’s all. You all have fun, but you can count me out,” you told them, then said goodbye and decided to go back to the Alpine motorhome to be alone for a while.

Halfway there, you suddenly felt someone put an arm around your shoulder, making you come to a halt to see who it was. You were met by Lando’s shining eyes, the mischievous smile telling you he was here to try and convince you to join them. But instead of giving you a speech full of reasons why you should join them, he decided to start with something else, something a lot more personal.

“Look, I can tell something is wrong. What happened? Last year you spent so much time with your family, your friends, and even with us. Now? Now I can see you getting cozy at your place, ignoring everyone until it’s absolutely necessary to be around people. I’m worried,” he added, and the look in his eyes told you he was telling the truth.

“I’m fine, trust me.” But Lando didn’t buy it, he just rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow, expecting you to finally be honest with him. “My relationships are dying, because apparently, I changed too much since I’ve been here. Why bother?”

Without a proper warning, Lando pulled you into a hug, his chin resting on your shoulder while you relaxed in his arms. It surprised you, but didn’t feel all that bad, to be honest. You’d been craving physical contact for months now, after all. “The party wouldn’t be the same without you. And I was planning to do so much, like getting you to be stuck to me the whole night, dancing together, drinking together, maybe letting me kiss you,” he finished as he pulled back to look at you with a wolfish grin.

To kiss you? That’s what he wanted? It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought about this, because there were times when you wished he would do that, but you usually got rid of these thoughts quite fast. It would complicate things, and complication was something you didn’t need in your life now. But God, he was so handsome, and so cute, and so–

Your train of thought was interrupted when you felt his lips on yours, moving slowly to see how you would react, waiting for the opportunity to truly get lost in it. And when you kissed him back, he moved his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, moaning softly into the kiss. The world around you ceased to exist, and you just enjoyed the moment, completely forgetting that the paddock was full of people who wouldn’t hesitate to take photos of the two of you.

When he finally pulled away to breathe, you gulped and watched him with uncertainty. Was he just playing with you? Or was he serious about this? Oh, why couldn’t he see you as a sister like the rest of the drivers did?

“So, I believe you’re coming to the party,” he spoke up with a smile. “The birthday boy is dying to spend the evening kissing the birthday girl. Maybe even sneaking away to have some fun in private,” he added before giving you a quick kiss again.

“Have some fun in private?”

With a wide grin on his face, Lando leaned closer to whisper the answer in your ear. “I have a special surprise for you. You’ll love it,” he told you in a sultry voice that made you gulp.

Well, it was safe to say he was probably several steps ahead of you in this.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

If you’re interested can you write a fic where reader has met Spencer’s mom and she absolutely loves reader and r mentions in front of the team when they have a case in Vegas “if we have time can we go see mom?” So the team thinks that they’re dating. They both get all flustered and deny repeatedly. Eventually the get together and kiss maybe where the team saw? So they’d go like “aweee” making them both embarrassed again

profiler!reader (1.5k celebration)

“looks like we’ll be staying an extra day here in vegas due to weather in quantico. so everyone enjoy your free day, but remember to be back here at one pm tomorrow.” and with the announcement done, hotch disappeared further into the hotel leaving behind the group of agents with toddler excitement.

“i say we go gambling, see who’s got the best hand.” derek suggested as he rubbed his hands together.

“we all know it’d be reid anyway,” jj pointed a painted nail in spencer direction. “i’m actually banned from most casinos in las vegas, especially the ones on the strip.”

emily and derek’s brows raised at the information. “naughty boy,” emily teased.

“well games like black jack just require math and card counting is technically illegal. also they are drenched in the smell of cigarettes and it’s extremely loud, so i’m okay with my sentence.” waving away any chances of them dragging him to those areas.

“oh!” you perked up and smiled at spencer, “we could visit your mom, i haven’t seen her for a while. i wanna hear more baby spence stories.” nudging your elbow gently against spencer’s stomach.

his features softened as he gazed upon you, his cheeks growing warm. “she’d love that. heard she’s been doing better the past month.”

“i’m sorry,” derek’s voice popping up beside your head, he slung an arm over your shoulder as he pointed a finger between you and spencer. “you’ve met mama reid?”

you shrugged, “yeah a few months ago when we had another case here. she’s a sweet lady.” smiling at the product of all her love beside you. spencer pulled that tight lipped smile that you adored, heart fluttering just a touch.

“so how long have you two been together if you’ve met his mom?” jj asked when she and rossi got closer to your circle.

your cheeks grew warm at the assumption and you heard spencer stutter over his tongue. “we- we’re not da- dating. friends can meet family.” it felt like spencer just took a giant step away from you.

“uh huh.” was all you heard from rossi before he decided he was bored and wandered off by himself. the other three quickly left the conversation at that when they agreed to a few rounds of slots and a drink or two.

once it was just you and spencer you were ready to quickly retract the plans but he turned to you and asked if you were ready to head out. you happily accompanied him on his visit to see diana reid.

five months later

“those two are definitely dating now.”

emily looked to her left to see rossi beside her as they both watched how close you and spencer stood. the two of you were always close to each other, physically and emotionally, so this just seemed normal to the bau.

but a well trained eye could see the slightest difference. “their pinkies are locked together.” rossi whispered to the lady.

“and their glances at each other aren’t quick or hidden, they’re opening staring at each other.” emily pointed out another detail she noted before rossi joined her side.

“‘bout damn time. getting tired of their silent puppy love crap, almost got my eyes stuck to the roof of my head from all the eye rolls.”

[bunnys-kisses]

baby trapping (vol. 3) - nanami kento

pairing: nanami kento x fem!readerrating: 18+ summary: Nanami, Nanami, Nanami. Always such the gentleman. He brought you flowers, he drove you home from work. He was almost husband material! Except three months ago you rejected his proposal and since then he had been trying to get you pregnant.

So far had had been unsuccessful. tags: smut, pwp, baby-trapping, love hotels, dark themes, breeding/pregnancy kink, love hotels, unprotected smut

Vol. One (Toji), Vol. Two (Geto & Gojo)

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Nanami, Nanami, Nanami. Always such a gentleman. He brought you flowers, he drove you home from work. He was almost husband material! Except three months ago you rejected his proposal and since then he had been trying to get you pregnant.

So far it had not been successful.

-

The blond drove to your work in the expensive car he owned. He was on his way to pick you up from the dead-end job you somehow loved. He thought your talents could be useful elsewhere. Like the importat role of a stay-at-home mother to two beautiful children. But he hoped you'd at least have four children. Make the large empty house he owned into a home.

But you were so determined to be a young professional. You wanted to be working in an office. You wanted to go out for drinks and have a good time. There was a lot you wanted to do before you settled down. But Nanami was tired of waiting.

If you wouldn't accept his ring, then you'd have to accept his baby. Or rather babies.

You left work on time and met Nanami in the parking garage. You spotted the expensive car right away and quickly headed over to him. Your heart was in your throat as you got closer. You had a deep love for Nanami, you thought he was so perfect.

You were under the impression that he took the rejection well and was going to wait till you were most established at work before you got married! You got to the car and happily knocked on the passenger window then waved at him.

He smiled at you before he unlocked the door and opened it for you. His eyes darted to your legs where you gave him a flash of your panties under your business skirt. The sight made him tighten his grasp on the steering wheel.

He soon patted you on the thigh before he watched you buckle yourself in. He leaned over to kiss you on the lips, ”I was thinking, maybe, we could check into a hotel before dinner.“ He placed a hand on your thigh, ”I've been thinking of you all day and I don't think you want to be fucked in a resturant bathroom. I know you love a nice bed.“ He softly chuckled before he tucked hair behind your ear, ”How does that sound?“

You cupped his face as he gazed at you, ”Nanami.“ You giggled, ”Am I really that irresistible?“

He leaned in for another kiss, the way a dutiful boyfriend was, and replied, ”Yes, you know I look at you and can't get enough.“ Then kissed you once me. His hand grazed your inner thigh briefly before he pulled away. He watched you nod to his earlier question before he put the car into drive and headed off towards the nearest love hotel.

The hotel was nice, it blended rather nicely into the other buildings in the neighborhood. It wasn't hard to get a room and before you knew it, you were being tossed onto the bed like a rag doll.

He grabbed you by the hair as he pulled you in for another searing kiss. His cock twitched in his slacks at the thought of your beautiful form. You would be so beautiful pregnant, round with his child.

You would be so perfect with tender breasts filled with milk, a sore back and a heavy belly. He believed you'd be happier as his wife, he didn't know what got into your head about being stuck working at  a job that would get you nowhere!

But you were so simple at times, sometimes women couldn't see the bigger picture. It wasn't your fault, Nanami would help you with that. He started to unbutton the front of your blouse.

  “You look amazing.“ He said, ”You look more beautiful than anyone else on this earth.“ He could feel the heat in his face as he exposed your breasts to him, ”Fuck.“

You looked away, ”They're not that impressive, Nanami.“

He kissed down your neck, ”It's more than impressive. It's perfect.“ Then he started to leave marks on your skin and down to the tops of your breasts. He felt you start to loosen his tie.

He didn't let you throw it off the bed. He wrapped it in his left hand while he continued to give all his attention to your breasts. The marks were dark and could be seen easily. The notion of having his marks on you made you wet.

  ”Nanami.“

  ”You're perfect.“ He rubbed his clothed cock up against your clothed pussy. You could feel the weight of his erection against you, ”Let me take control tonight. Don't worry. I'll keep you safe.“

  ”Nan-“

  ”Trust me.“ He said softly. It was time to put his plan into action. Make you unsuspecting of him orgasming deep inside of you. To fill you with his cum until there was zero choice but to get pregnant.

All it took was one cell to find home with another. The thought aroused him, he didn't have to be sneaky with holes in the condom. He could easily impregnate you tonight, all you had to do was put your full trust into him.

You looked up into his eyes, there was a look of worry. There was even a crease in your brow that he smoothed out with his thumb. He smiled at you softly. Play the sheep until he could become the wolf.

  ”Alright, honey.“ You said as you reached to unzip your skirt, ”I trust you. I'll always trust you.“ Then gave him a broad smile as you unzipped the article of clothing.

He looked at you for a moment, there was a glint in his eye that you couldn't put into words. But it made an unfamiliar feeling rise up in you. Your heart raced as you both got undressed.

His gaze was tense, he wanted to see every curve on you. You wondered what he was thinking about as he observed you. But you would've never guessed it was the idea of getting you pregnant. To trap you with his baby.

He knew better than you, he knew what you needed. And that was a Nanami brat running around. And if he was lucky there would be multiples. He put the tie over your eyes, ”Trust me.“ And you had no choice but to trust him.

  ”You brought a condom right?“

He chuckled softly, ”Of course I did, the thin ones. Just the way you like it.“ He dipped his hand between your bare thighs and touched along your pussy. His thumb brushed against your clit and you shuddered. He smirked to himself, such a vulnerable young woman. So gentle and sweet.

You'd make the perfect wife for him. He wondered if they sold wedding dresses for women who already had their honeymoons. He smirked, knowing you wouldn't see it.

He played with you gently. You got more wet the more he played with you. Your hands dug into the sheet on the bed.

Maybe this wasn't the ideal place to make a baby, but it would have to do. He'd make sure the delivery was somewhere nicer. Maybe at home where he could take care of you. The thought made his cock bob, he may be a pervert but at least he could take out all the sexual frustration out on his soon-to-be wife.

  ”I'm going to move you now, my love.“He said with his voice close to your ear.

You nodded, ”Okay, honey.“ Then felt yourself being put on all fours. You dropped your front half into the soft pillows and kept your hips up so he could reach you. You wiggled your ass to entice him. Which was soon followed by a harsh slap. You made a small ”eep“ noise from the pain but it only made your pussy wetter.

  ”Such a beautiful sight.“ He said, ”I love you, I want you more than anything. I look at you and think of no one else. You're mine,  my love. All mine.“ His words made your heart flutter.

He rubbed your cheeks as he got behind you. His grip was rough which made you roll your hips in an attempt to get out of it. But there was no escaping him.

  ”Nanami.“ You whimpered.

  ”What did I say? You need to listen, I need you to trust me. Be a good girl and spread those legs a little more. I want to see your beautiful pussy.“ He was excited that his plan was working. That you so easily fell into it. It was as if it were destiny that you were meant to get pregnant tonight. And if not tonight, then he'd keep trying until you ended up with a child.

He situated himself behind him and he reached between your legs to your stomach which he playfully touched. His cock leaked pre-cum from his imagination going wild over the idea of you pregnant with his child.

He shakily exhaled to compose himself before he pulled his hand away to hold onto your hip while he guided his hardened cock into you. He groaned out loud as he felt your heat consume him.

  ”Honey!“ You whimpered, ”You're so big. I can feel it so deep!“ You gripped onto the pillow under your head as you tried to relax. His size was impressive and you knew it was his even without seeing.

You held onto the pillows and moaned into them. You knew the rooms were soundproof but you were worried about being too loud. The sound of sex filled the room as he started to move.

  ”Please, honey! Ah, it feels so good!“ You whimpered as you held onto the bed to keep yourself steady. Your heart was racing as he thrusted up into you.

  ”Does it feel good?“ He asked, he smiled to himself. The idea of you succumbing to pleasure. You just let him finish inside of you, get you pregnant and become his wife. It was a dream for him.

  ”It feels amazing!“ You moaned as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts. You held onto the pillows tightly as he started to move faster. Your heart was racing and you knew your face was flushed. You panted heavily into the covers.

  ”Good, good." He said softly to himself as he kept thrusting up into you. Your pussy clenched around him as he kept going. The feeling was erotic, it made his whole body warm. To be so close to you.

He wanted you so badly, he adored you. He was obsessed with you. He wanted to make sure that no one else could ever have you. His breathing became heavier as he moved.

The whole room grew hotter with each passing moment. Two people together, creating something beautiful even if one person didn't know it yet. The bed creaked under you as your bodies moved.

You felt hot all over as you two fucked in the centre of the bed. You panted heavily into the pillows as you tried to keep up. The feeling was amazing, it was like mini sparks were going through you. Your gut twisted with excitement over being so intimate with him.

He was a perfect lover.

Your head became cloudy the closer you got to orgasm. You felt like you were running off hormones as you felt so close to climax. You held on tightly as arched your back as you came. You groaned into the pillows, your voice was loud and almost got stuck in your throat from the feeling of the blond's cock so deep inside of you.

  “I love you, honey.” He said. 'you're all mine, wife,' he added in his head as he watched you go limp on the bed. He pulled you up by the hips and fucked into you even harder.

He was thrilled that he could finish inside of you. Your head was so fuzzy you'd barely noticed if he came with zero protection. It was simply nature telling you it was time to be a mother.

With one more hard thrust, he finished inside of you. He held onto your hips tightly as he gave a final thrust. He leaned a little to make sure that all of it got to its intended destination. He could feel his blond hair sticking to his forehead. He felt hot all over as he pulled out and laid down beside you.

You rolled into his arms, your mind was still blank from the intense orgasm you had. You didn't notice the cum that was oozing out of your poor cunt, but that would be cleaned up soon. As when Nanami came to, he made sure to clean up any trace that he finished inside of you.

You'd know what he did when that test came back positive. He wiped your clean, even the sweat on your forehead. He kissed the warmed skin. He had broken your mind with an intense orgasm and hopefully impregnated you.

The thought made him smile as he said, ”Let's get you in the shower.“ As he approached you. He had to be a husband and father now, which meant protecting what was his.

-

  ”That's it.“ He moaned, ”That's it.“ His wedding ring gleamed in the afternoon light, ”We have to be quick before Misao wakes up.“

You held onto his chest as you rode his cock. Your heavy breasts bounced as did your swollen belly. Two babies in two years, it could almost be a record.

Nanami rubbed your swollen middle, ”My beautiful wife. All mine.”  And you moaned in response. His cock twitched inside of you. This was all he ever wanted, but he'd only be truly satisfied with more than four children. He really wondered if he could break the record within a few years.

Either way, you'd only grow more beautiful. His beautiful wife, at home and caring for the growing home. Just as he wanted it.

xoxo, U・x・U

[perpetuallyburntout]

S4!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Strawberry Blonde - Mitski

‼️SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON FOUR OF UMBRELLA ACADEMY BELOW THE CUT‼️

Okay so I know I wasn’t the only person absolutely crushed by season four of Umbrella Academy, but in the middle of grieving over it, I had the best/worst idea. Technically a fanfic idea, but I don’t know if I have the commitment to write the whole thing, so if someone else would like to, by all means :)

The events of season four start six years after the end of season three. Six years of (mostly) peace. Let’s just say Five met someone in that time (for the sake of making sense, I’ll refer to them as Lover). Met someone he found himself falling for. And they fell for him, too. And it was perfect. And for the first time in a painfully long time, Five was happy. Content. He had his suspicions about how long this peace would last, but… for now, things were good. More than good, they were wonderful. He’d met the love of his life.

And then the events of season four begin to happen. And Lover is there with the group the whole time. At this point, they’re family, too. They want to help, and Five wants them to stay close to him.

Until he and Lila decide to go on their own on the subway, leaving Lover with the others. And in the seven years Five and Lila are stuck together, the same thing happens. And when they finally return, Lover knows something is off. And when the truth comes out, their whole world comes crashing down.

Diego grows angry. Lover just grows somber. It’s even worse, because when they look at Five again, his expression is different. The aching love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at them… it’s dulled to something faint. Still there, deep down, but… unsure. As if he’s questioning himself. Questioning what he should do now. Who he’d pick if given the choice.

Of course, he’s not given the choice. Not even the choice to take Lover far away and talk to them and really explain and try to do something. No, no… the world’s ending. For the final time. And he knows how to make sure it never comes to an end ever again.

Lover’s there for the entire conversation. Every bit of grief and anger they’d felt towards Five suddenly melts away, replaced by desperation. They’d let the world end for the rest of eternity if… if it meant maybe things could be different. If it meant maybe he’d love them, and maybe he’d never love anyone else besides them.

They’re eventually forced to leave with Lila’s family and get on the subway. And while everyone else is confused and emotional, they’re curled on the ground, gasping and sobbing, knowing what this means.

And the Hargreeves stop the world from ending. And all the timelines reset. And everyone else in the world gets their happy ending.

And Lover thinks they’re happy. They do. But they never fall in love again. For some reason, every time they think they find someone, an aching pain in their chest makes them hesitate. An unfamiliar voice calling their name makes them pause. A flash of something, perhaps a memory, too fast to register but not fast enough to ignore the heart wrenching pain of, makes them withdraw. It’s almost as if…

They’re waiting for someone that never existed.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

So! When I had this idea, I was listening to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski, and here’s how the lyrics played out in my head:

I love everybody because I love you

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I looked over it and I ached

(12:00 PM. August 8th, 2024. Lover’s enjoying their day in the park, sitting in the grass, eyes shut against the light breeze and warm sun. They turn to their side, almost as if to tell someone about how lovely the weather is. But no one’s there. A weird pain begins to ache in their heart.)

I love everybody because I love you

I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape

I picture it, soft and I ache

(Others—perhaps friends or family—come over and greet Lover, noticing their confused and distant expression, and ask what’s wrong. Nothing, they say, though they can’t escape the deep longing in their chest for… something that was never there.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

(Flashback timeeee- or… alternate timeline time? Flashback to a time in an alternate timeline, there we go.)

Reach out the car window tryna hold the wind

You tell me you love her, I give you a grin

Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape

So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines

Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

(Shows Five and Lover together, in love, making memories together. Happy.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(Events of season four began to play out, but ofc with Lover being part of the story.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(The climax of the story. Flashes of the last two episodes. Five and Lila returning, the explanation, the heartbreak, Five finding out how to save the world for good, Lover meeting his gaze one last time as the subway pulls away forever.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Lover repeating his name to themself, trying to remember for as long as possible, not able to let go.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Flashback ends, returns to Lover in the grass on that sunny day, murmuring the name to themself. They’re not quite sure why.)

°。°。°。°。°。°。

I hope you all enjoyed this little idea! I got a little rambly and wrote WAY MORE than I planned on, but it’s an idea I’ve fallen in love with this past hour and I wanted to be able to share it with all of you <3

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster - 

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

[three-realms-archive]

Beware Sorcerer MC, the Kind.

Know it is a rare occasion, if you happen to see the Master of the Seven Avatars of Sin out without an escort. Whilst rare, it will be obvious – like a single dandelion seed twirling and carefree in the middle of a raging thunderstorm.

Like a thunderstorm, they are terrifying. Their bright, brilliant smiles – shining like the sun as they nonchalantly sidestep yet another carnivorous plant lashing out at them from the sidewalk; or as they wave hello to the gargoyle who spits on the heads of passers-by from where it is perched atop the local bakery; or as they gently chastise one of the Seven Rulers of the Underworld, as if scolding a child. It is a sight to behold indeed - when irritated demons on the street stop their bickering and straighten their ties as MC turns the corner, the bitterness in their hearts killed by an unwillingness to disappoint the realm’s most prized person.

‘Apprentice to Solomon the Wise. Master of the Seven Avatars of Sin.’

‘Sorcerer MC, the Kind,’ the Devildom calls them. Some say the title was a joke in passing from MC’s teacher - the wise sorcerer, Solomon - one day in the RAD lunch hall and it just stuck. Others say the title came from a demon they had helped, who saw it fit to spread word of their deeds. And some others say the title came from Crown Prince Diavolo, himself.

“What do you mean, beware MC, the Kind?!” You say, almost spitting out your tea as Diavolo hands you his D.D.D. There’s an article on screen, with ‘Beware Sorcerer MC, the Kind’ as it’s title; praising you as the central force behind Diavolo’s efforts for peace amongst the three realms. Problem is - as you continue to scroll through it - it seems to portray simple kindness as some kind of magic spell… with a particular warning to demon children to not sin in broad daylight lest ‘MC the Kind smite you with the curse of their forgiveness, like they often do in the hallowed walls of RAD’s mess hall.’

“Flattering,” Barbatos comments, refilling your tea cup before you can blink, “do you not think, MC?”

Diavolo nods, happily. “I agree with Barbatos.”

“Smite, guys.” You look up at the happy pair beaming at you – then look back at the article. You repeat this a few times, blinking slowly. “I… I just share my dessert sometimes at RAD - is that smiting? Lord Diavolo, have I been smiting?!”

“Such high praise, MC.” Barbatos grins. “This calls for the good tea cakes.”

“The good tea cakes – thank you, Barbatos! And the good Demonus! Our longest aged!

… You aren’t sure how to respond to how happy they are about this.

(this was fun to write. i wanted to think of mc gaining a reputation like solomon’s, since i like whenever them being a a sorcerer in their own right pops up. solomon’s the wise sorcerer - so mc being the kind sorcerer seemed fitting ahahaha)

(i had fun trying to to give mc the same reputation and respect and power but with the ‘kind’ title, and landed on demons being like ‘mc said i should apologise oh no what is this guilt must be a spell’)

[bluetimeombre]

: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to

You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.

[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others

yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!

809k likes. 304k comments

user: wait, you're in wonka?!

user: I LOVE YOU!!

user: mother giving us content, as always

tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me

yourusername: no

tchalamet: pls!!!

user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?

user: slayyyy

user: isn't wonka supposed to suck

tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see

yourusername: girls got to earn a living

tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow

user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!

user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us

wonkamovie: 😍😍

balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'

'I need your help.'

'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.

'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'

you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.

'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.

'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'

you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.

'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.

you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.

you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.

timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.

'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'

'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.

'you killed it,' you assure, casually.

'thank you,' he smiled.

'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.

'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'

you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.

'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'

you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'

'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'

ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.

'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.

he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'

'thanks man.'

'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.

timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.

'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'

'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.

'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.

you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'

'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.

'i do love london,' you agreed.

'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.

they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!

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liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others

tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes, 609k comments

user: he posted! he posted!

user: we are getting FED

user: i just know this is all yourusername influence

user: not kylie liking...

user: statistics! statistics!

liked by yourusername

yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!

yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one

user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close

user: like fr she stealin my man

user: i love them!!!

user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth

user: she's just like us!

user: LOVE!!!!!

user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie

user: plssss, i love kylie

user: is wonka a musical

user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!

user: fave bob dylan song?

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others

yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!

tagged: tomblyth

1m likes 477k comments

tomblyth: lots of love my dear !

user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it

user: MOTHER

user: parents are parenting

user: I LOVED THIS FILM

user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf

rachelzeglar: my luv &lt;3

yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!

joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me

yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you

joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??

tomblyth: she's the boss

user: how is she so amazing in everything

user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank

user: hi!

user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed

user: i need this film injected into my veins

user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!

tchalamet: very proud

yourusername liked tchalamet's comment

user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating

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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!

user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her

user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?

user: no because i thought the exact same thing

user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute

user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?

user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?

user: they haven't confirmed it

user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him

user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him

user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet