#Set Style of Content Control

[cosmictheo]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 | bob reynolds

(gif credits to @tomundsen )

—summary: it's the first time you're wearing your new suit as an official (new) avenger and bob is a little too excited about it. —pairing: bob reynolds x female!avenger!reader —word count: 7k (oops) —content: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, p in v sex, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some porn with some plot, fingering, he talks to you through it, really passionate sex, a lot, lot of body worship, praise kink goes brrr, sub!bob, bob just loves his powerful strong girl too much. confident and self-assured bob is so dear to me.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

“H–hey, here's your milk— woah,” Bob interrupted himself when he finally lifted his gaze from the floor so he could look at you. His eyes fell on your figure, roaming up and down shamelessly, scanning in wonder-struck silence at the way you looked in the new suit. 

You were in front of your full-length mirror, analyzing with squinted eyes the way the suit that had just arrived, restyled and upgraded, looked on you. All the details you had mentioned were fixed now.

It looked good on you, you thought. It fit your body like a second skin though. But the fabric was pretty much perfect, it was comfy and flexible, it was designed to match your abilities and fighting style, without excessively exposing you.

And you still had to put on the cape, a feature Valentina had insisted on adding to the final look, that way you would impose more respect and appear more intimidating, according to her.

Bob stood frozen at the entrance of your room, in his hands he was carrying cups of milkshake he had ordered not too long ago, one of them probably meant for you.

Even though you had told him many times that you didn't like to eat or drink before a mission, he did it anyway. He cared too much about you to not to. So every time he ordered himself something, he had to order something for you as well.

“Thank you, Bob,” you offered him a kind smile nonetheless in appreciation, turning your head so that you could face him. His countenance was all flushed red and the content of the cups swirled a bit with the tremor of his hands.

“Can you help me with the cape?” you then asked, watching him as he awkwardly set the cups down on the small coffee table in the center of your bedroom before making his way towards you with swift steps, as if you were the center of gravity of the entire universe, of his universe.

He couldn't control how his eyes drifted down from your face and swept along your back, drinking in every curve, every outline of your gorgeous, perfect figure, relishing in the way the tight black fabric clung to your body like a second skin. 

Bob's gaze traced a very slow scan across your lower back, through the shape of your hips, the curve of your ass, the complex of your thighs—

“Isn't it too much?” you wondered out loud, making him flinch. Your eyes were looking at him through the reflection of the mirror as Bob stumbled to set the cape where it supposed to be, hooking it onto your shoulders very carefully, with trembling fingers. 

You could catch a glimpse through the mirror of the way his eyes were glowing under the soft yellowish light of your room, you could see your own reflection within them, melting into all the darkness of his particularly dilated pupils. The darkness in his eyes surrounded you completely.

He finished settling the cape on your back and Bob took a couple of steps back from you, permitting himself to gaze at you in awe, his mouth falling half-open.

“You're— you look nice.” He responded to you, in a stammering but entirely truthful voice, nerves racing on his tongue as he pronounced one of the many compliments that were flooding his head as he ogled you with big eyes. “L–like, really nice.”

He nodded his head in a short frenzy, approving the words from himself. Then his eyes searched yours through the reflection of the mirror and he found himself swooning as you spun around to face him, your cape twirling in the air with the effortlessly graceful motion.

You raised an eyebrow as you saw how Bob held his hands out in front of him, fingers clasped together casually. He kept an innocent visage, though his cheeks were flushed, nervous eyes dropping to the ground as he saw you walking towards him in all your glory and beauty, like a goddess stepping down from the heavens. And you didn't have to coax him into surrendering to you, he already stood in the palm of your hand, wrapped around your pretty finger.

You flustered him so much it was silly. Every step you took stirred an earthquake inside him.

He was as yours as the sun is to the moon, as darkness is to light, as craving is to love.

His heart raced as you stood in front of him, gazing at him from all your power and majesty. And Bob knew he was long gone.

“Are you okay?” you asked him in a tone that conveyed raw concern, just as much as what your eyes shared with his in their familiar, heart-warming silent intimacy.

You had your head slightly tilted and your brow just barely furrowed in worry. You looked so beautiful, so cute, that you had him speechless for a few moments.

“Y–yes, I—” Bob stuttered, jerking his head gently, dismissing any sign of worry he might spark in you. “I'll s–see you after the mission—”

Immediately after that, he rushed to grab his beloved milkshake, flashed you a lopsided smile all crooked with nervousness and stormed out of your room, almost tripping over the box full of vinyls you had yet to organize on the shelves.

Shortly before he left, Bob turned once more to look at you, with that sheepish little grin curving his lips and you noticed how he struggled to hold his cup of milkshake now low in front of him, trying to cover up the prominent bulge that had grown painfully harder the more he watched you in that suit.

And then he just disappeared.

You stood in silence, dumbfounded, staring at your door with puzzled eyes and gaping mouth. Then you glanced down at yourself, searching around for something wrong, something that looked ugly maybe, something that would cause such an outburst in Bob. 

But there was absolutely nothing wrong with you. In fact, you looked perfect. 

When you came back from the mission, the first thing you looked for in the living room once you stepped out of the elevator was Bob, naturally, eyes flicking to the couch where he usually lay down to read or gaze at the cityscape.

Yelena and Bucky were talking animatedly beside you, exchanging a single knowing glance as they both caught a glimpse of disappointment surfacing on your face, still a little sweaty from all the physical exertion the mission had taken. It had not been difficult. The guys had especially relied on your skills to accomplish it successfully.

For that, you were a bit tired, your mind and body had given up a lot to the energy of your abilities. You were still buzzing. Adrenaline was throbbing in your veins. And normally when you were like this, you reached for Bob's comfort to anchor you back to earth.

Your cape fluttered behind you as you made your way towards the hallway to the bedrooms, looking defeated.

Yelena huffed a small chuckle at you, taking a sip of water from the glass Bucky had offered her, “I can't believe that less than thirty minutes ago you were at full power, levitating off the ground, with your eyes glowing and all, and now you go crawling back to your boyfriend like this.”

You just shrugged, offering them both a small tired smile before continuing to walk towards Bob's room, needing to see him and hug him. You didn't even care that you were still wearing your suit.

You stopped in front of the door and as you were raising your hand to knock on it, it swung open with a ‘wooshh!’, revealing a very distressed looking Bob. His hair was a bit messy, he was still wearing that black shirt that looked so good on him. He had changed his pants, though, now wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, hanging dangerously low around his hips.

He looked like a hot mess. In every good sense of the term.

“You're back,” he breathed out, as if he'd been holding his breath all this time in your absence, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped loudly. His eyes took a quick journey across you and widened as he noticed you were still in your suit. He pulled them back, forcefully, painfully slow back up to your face.

You looked at him strangely, realizing how you were both still standing in his doorway. “Yeah... are you okay, Bob? I feel you... closed off.”

“Yeah, it's just— I didn't want to distract you— before the mission and all that,” he explained, sounding more like a cheap excuse.

“Distract me?” You raised a single eyebrow, repeating his own word, noticing perfectly how his gaze wandered to your chest for just a split of a second, but nonetheless, you managed to catch up with it. A hint of an amused smile tugged at the corners of your lips, leaning against the threshold of his door, and he closed his eyes tightly, ducking his head in shame, knowing full well that he had been caught. Nothing could ever get past you. Not when it came to him.

��Looks like you're the distracted one here, Bob.”

“I'm not—” he stammered, his hands raised to his flushed face, “S-sorry, I don't mean to be like like a wacked out pervert— I don't want you to think less of me. It's just a s-suit.”

The last part seemed to be speaking more to himself than to you, as he grunted it under his breath, verging on a scolding.

But it wasn't just a suit.

It was you.

Your body, your naughty smile, your gaze, your lips tinted with that deadly crimson red.

A couple of beads of sweat led a wet trail down your neck. Bob could smell the saltiness oozing off your sweaty skin, mixed with that exquisite scent of your perfume. He could hear your heart pounding, the throbbing pulse in your jugular vein. Demonstrating that you were real, that you were breathing, that you were right in front of him, dressed like that.

You were devastatingly beautiful. And he was completely at your mercy.

Your hand rose to his face, making him stop his babbling with himself and lift his gaze slowly. His cheek felt warm under your palm, you didn't know if it was because he was a blushing mess or because that was the effect that your touch brought upon his skin.

“It's okay to feel desire, Bob, there's nothing wrong with that,” you reassured him, lowering your tone to a softer, more sympathetic one. “It makes me feel good that you desire me, actually.”

That got a reaction out of him, his lips quivered, hesitating whether or not to speak, until eventually, he made up his mind, “It makes you feel good?”

You nodded your head, your smile morphing to one of a little more shyness, “I thought you didn't like the way I looked in my suit. Since you just ran off without saying anything, I thought that—”

Bob interrupted you right there, shaking his head repetitively. You felt his jaw and flesh move under the palm of your hand as he spoke.

“What? No,” he blurted, huffing air as if it were the most obvious subject in the world. Regret passed over the expression of his face and he uttered your name in that adoring, soft way he did, “You look perfect. It drives me crazy, h-honestly. I haven't been able to stop t-thinking about you. You look so beautiful it makes me want to—”

He forced himself to shut up, suddenly feeling his throat constrict and his face grow even more red. One of his hands ran through his hair anxiously, looking really tense.

“You want to what?” You urged him, your breath feeling warm against his face, your thumb caressed his cheekbone, making him shiver under your touch, “Say it, Bob.”

Bob looked into your eyes again, struggling to maintain eye contact, his hands trembled at his sides, so desperate to reach out to you, to touch you, to grasp you. To hold all of you.

“Make love to you” He mumbled against your lips just before you kissed him, breathing in his air and devouring his words, covenanting them as a mutual yearning. A promise.

Bob kissed you as if you were the air his lungs depended on to breathe, his lips moving with yours like an old habit, like second nature.

“Jump,” he urged you between kisses and shaky breaths, his hands finally being set loose to reach out to touch you and hold your waist.

And you immediately complied, bouncing up and wrapping your legs around his hips. He lifted you up and held you so effortlessly. Sometimes you forgot that this man was the strongest among all of you. The strongest on the planet, most likely.

Without ever stopping kissing you, Bob locked you tightly against him with one arm while the other one stretched out towards the door, closing it behind his back once he started to walk with you in his arms over to his bed. 

Both of his hands grasped your body at the bottom of your thighs, squeezing and cupping your warm flesh through the fabric of your suit.

Promptly you felt the bulge press against the underside of your thigh, so desperate for attention, for you.

Bob broke the kiss, the noise of your mouths slipping apart from each other swept across the interior of his room, so filthy and hot. He looked at you with half-closed eyes, gaze darkened by desire and raw adoration.

He was breathless and feeling so flustered and anxious he was trembling, you could sense it as he held you close against him.

“I-I'm sorry, I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. It—” he mumbled, closing his eyes in ecstasy as he felt your fingers sinking into his hair at the back of his skull, “It just... pops up. It's inevitable when it comes to you. You drive me crazy.”

He was referring to his erection, of course. His big erection. He was ashamed of it. Bob didn't want to appear desperate —although for you, he certainly was—; someone who was unable to control himself. He was striving for control.

“Just shut up and make love to me, Bob,” you murmured, pleaded, right against his lips, your tongue grazing across his bottom lip, pulled outward, his countenance turn into a pout. “I need you inside me, now. Please, baby”

“S-shit,” he hissed a lot of cursing under his trembling breath. He was buzzing, “I-I need you too.”

Bob kissed you one more time as he laid you down on his bed very gently, careful not to trip or get tangled up in your cape.

His lips traced a path of kisses across your face, down your chin, along your neck. Your body quivered as you felt his tongue run across your skin, wiping away a bead of sweat.

Your legs were still on either side of his hips, one of his hands was running up and down the outside of your thigh and the other was supporting his own weight on the side of your body.

You arched your back for him, grinding against his crotch. Bob groaned lightly into your skin at the friction.

“You drive me crazy— you don't know what you provoke in me,” he uttered, rasping out against the skin of your neck, like an unhinged man, blinded by lust and longing. “This fucking suit— shit. You look so good, so pretty for me. I need you so bad, baby. All the time.”

Rarely did Bob call you by pet names, but every one of those occasions elicited the exact same reaction out of you. Your gaze would darken and your eyes would squint. You didn't have to tell him anything at all. Your body spoke everything to him, calling out to him in silence, in complicity.

With you, the intimacy, the complicity spoke for itself above the silence.

He knew the power he had in you. He knew exactly how to use it.

“P-please... ah—” yet he still begged you, whimpering just from friction and touch alone, pulling his head out of your neck and bringing his face closer to yours. He kissed your lips once more, just as your legs squeezed tighter around his waist, pulling him closer to you and making him pant against your mouth. “I dreamt of your legs wrapped around my waist. Just like this...”

Even Bob couldn't fully recognize himself. He was in some kind of deep lust trance, everything was blurred, except for you. Just beneath him, your beautiful body squirming, flushed against his.

To think that not so long ago you had been out there, in your nice suit, in full super-heroine mode, helping and saving people. Protecting kids from the bad guys, fighting for them.

They all probably looked up to you with adoration, everyone would most likely be jealous of him if they knew how he had you now.

None of them could ever see you like this. Only in their dreams. 

“Only in their dreams,” a voice murmured at the back of his mind.

“Bobby...” You breathed out his name, pleading for mercy, for him to do something, anything at all. One of your hands was curled around his forearm at your side, squeezing it to attract his attention. Your fingertips absentmindedly traced the veins outlined against his skin trough his arm. You could feel his throbbing pulse on them. Desperate and hepless. Craving. 

“Let me taste you, baby, please” Bob cooed, his voice coming raspy and desperate out of his throat, “I need to taste you, yeah?”

“Y-yes, yes,” your mouth moved faster than your mind, gazing at him with eyes glazed over with lust. “W-wait, I have to take off my suit first, let me—”

Bob cut you off with a sloppy little kiss, pressing his forehead affectionately against yours, his nose nuzzling yours just before he pulled away, “I-I got it.”

He patted your thigh gently and you unwrapped your legs from his waist, following him with your gaze attentively as he settled over you carefully so that his fingers reached around your neck, in search of the zipper of the suit. When he found it, he began to pull it down, looking at you with ravenous eyes, blinking so slowly that it seemed like he wasn't blinking at all.

“Turn a little and lift your hips up, baby.” He said to you once the zipper trail was almost reaching your lower back. As he unzipped the bottom of it, you took off your top to help him, leaving your bare chest on full display for him. “That's it. God...”

Bob shakily exhaled air as he became aware that you weren't wearing any underwear at all, he had to be extremely careful not to tear the zipper into a thousand tiny pieces with the force he squeezed it, pulling it further below your hips.

“You don't wear anything under it? Should I be worried about this?”

His tone of voice was so confident and borderline playful that for a moment you felt like he was someone else entirely. He really wanted to look confident for you, he wanted to provide you that security and comfort. You were stripping naked for him, for God's sake. Bob had to make an extra effort to appear confident and self-assured.

“Just for you, baby,” you assured him, shifting your legs slightly just once to help him pull the suit off completely, tugging it delicately down your thighs. The distinctive noise of the zipper, which this time was reaching your ears like the most arousing noise on the planet, ceased at last, reaching its end.

“J-just for me,” Bob echoed, leaning into you again like a magnet to a gravity core. His lips latched onto your naked thigh, kissing the side considering the position you were lying on his bed now. His wet, leisurely kisses awakened shivers on your skin. He could smell how aroused you were. He practically could taste how wet your sex was. Thinking about it made his mouth water.

“So pretty, so beautiful, my God,” he babbled, his trail of kisses reaching your lower stomach, tickling you in a way that made you sigh. Bob looked up at you for just a moment, his pupils blown out with pleasure, “How could someone like me deserve something like this?”

It all seemed more like a conversation with himself, like if he was walking through a daydream.

Your hand came to rest on his face, cupping his cheek, and he leaned against your palm instantly, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Bobby, please,” you pleaded.

And he gave in immediately, kissing the palm of your hand, “You don't have to beg me for anything. You already have it.”

His kisses trailed back down your stomach and you arched your back so beautifully for him. When he pulled away from your hand, it fell to the side of you on the bed. You clenched in a trembling fist all the fabric of whatever you could catch hold of.

“Are you— are you sure about this?” he looked up to you for consent, his fingers soothingly caressing your thighs, hands pressing them to either side of his face and settling them on his shoulders. When he saw you nodding your head, too much overcome with lust, he brushed a kiss on the inside of your knee, attempting to get your full attention back, “I need words, baby.”

You hurried to answer, babbling, gazing down at him, kneeling so pretty in between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven, “Yes, Bob, baby, please.”

He kissed your other knee now and then licked his lips, hungrily.

“I want to see you fall apart under me,” his hot breath brushed against the skin of your inner thighs, spreading your legs a little wider with a delicate but assured grip. “You're soaking wet, baby,” he marveled, in awe watching your pussy dripping with his adored honeyed water, yet his voice sounded disappointed, “you're wasting my meal.”

The mere sight of how his eyes sparkled with adoration as he gazed at your pussy could have made you cum right there if you started to think about it too much. Bob looked at you as if you were the center of the universe, the entrance to paradise, the sun he orbited around. 

It all made sense when you were there. Your presence in the room shifted the whole gravity of his being. His everything was for you. He was all made for you.

All the sense he could possibly envision now was to devour your pussy as if it were his last meal. He devoured it like a starving man, like reaching an oasis in the most arid desert, drowning and sheltering into it.

The sloshing sounds that spread with each stroke of his tongue between your wet folds made you flush all over, throwing your head back against one of his pillows and squeezing your eyes tightly shut, muttering and moaning his name out like a prayer.

To Bob, that noise was the most beautiful melody he'd ever heard. He sucked particularly hard onto your slit, pushing his tongue just barely into your gushing hole, pulling a loud, raspy moan from your throat. Oh, that noise...

His name sounded like the utmost hopeless and religious chant out of your pretty mouth. At that moment he was loving his name, loving the way you moaned it and kept murmuring it, as if it was yours, holding it close to your heart.

Amidst all the acoustic thrill of raw passion, mingled with his own soft whimpers breathing out into your core, Bob could nearly hear the stars themselves just above his red, hot ears. 

Your cunt was pulsing all around the tip of his tongue and Bob sensed, tasted your heartbeat through it. 

To feel that close to you nearly made him cum right there in his sweatpants.

One of his hands unclasped your leg, crawling up through your skin, his digits drawing a smooth path up your stomach, through your ribcage, all the way to reach your chest, cupping one of your breasts with a possessive hold.

“Bob— uhh—” you croaked out his name, glancing down at him with half-closed eyes, searching for his gaze in desperation.

Your back curved into such a perfect arch, your body squirming up against him as you felt his tongue flick your clit, his fingertips gently caressing your nipple. The stimulation would soon knock you into fucking heaven.

“Yeah, baby,” he responded to your call, disconnecting his mouth just an inch from your pussy, feeling lust-drunk enough to hold your gaze. His whole mouth was drenched with you, the slickness glistening under the dim light of his bedroom. His other hand sneaked between your legs, just barely brushing your pulsating cunt, “I'm here, hm? I got you, angel.”

Angel. That one was new.

You looked as close as he could ever imagine to an angel; sprawled on his bed, your body, magnificent, perfect, damp with sweat and arousal, your gaze searching for his in longing. There, in the shadows, Bob saw the whitish gleam of your energy flashing through your orbs, your power lingering in the air, pulsating along with your heartbeat.

You were so powerful, so strong and marvelous.

And you were all his to break apart.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He asked right before passionately kissing your pussy, his fingertips teasing your clit as he plunged his tongue deep into you, knocking all the air out of your lungs. “I got you, I got you.”

Bob felt you clench impossibly tight all around the two fingers he had thrust into your warm, fluttering hole, barely pressing against the spongy walls of your insides. He sucked your clit just right, breathing your name against your hot flesh. That's what pushed you over the edge, making you cum, falling apart so devastatingly beautiful against his mouth.

He slurped and drank in everything you had to offer him, lapping at your cunt as if he was drowning and it was the oxygen he needed to keep afloat. 

He paused to gaze at you attentively as he made you cum, your whole body buzzing, squirming so beautifully under his touch that you resembled some ethereal, otherworldly sight.

His name rasped out of your throat, as if it were your own religion.

“There you go...” Bob cooed, his eyes hazy with adoration, licking his lips clean and kissing your twitching pussy once again. “So good to me. So good...”

His lips kissed a trail upwards, swiping his tongue occasionally across the scars and freckles that decorated your skin as a constellation that appealed to him to adore. Eventually, Bob reached your face, looking down at you with pure love and a glimpse of that gentle shyness of his natural mannerism.

“A-are you okay?”

Bob watched your soul slowly crawl back to the ground and to your body, right back to him, finally snapping out of your post-orgasm trance. He propped his weight against the bed on the side of your waist with one hand, his thumb brushing against your bare skin and he brought the other to your face, caressing your cheek reassuringly. 

Your response was your mouth seeking his to join in a deep, loving kiss. Bob closed his eyes, kissing you back, his hand cradling your face.

You could taste yourself through his lips and tongue. And that managed to turn you on even more. 

Wrapped in an adrenaline surge of lust pumping through your veins, you rolled both of you over on the bed, laying him underneath you now. 

It was nice that you had much more stamina and energy than a normal human. Although there, you didn't feel like a human at all.

You were animals driven by their own instincts.

Bob gasped against your lips, his eyes barely opening so he could visualize you on top of him now, grinding your ass down on his rock-hard erection as you sat so prettily on his lap.

“Shit,” he croaked out your name, his hands grabbing as much of you as they possibly could, sliding past the curve of your waist to your ass, pressing you harder down onto him in urging. “If you keep doing that— I-I'm going to—”

You stopped all movement of your body and sat perfectly motionless on his lap. Bob whined hoarsely in protest, but you didn't let him utter a word, your finger pressed against his lips, silencing him instantly.

“I want you to cum inside me, Bob.” You purred against his ear, your tongue lazily stroking his earlobe. He froze speechless, just staring at you flabbergasted, still delighting in the way you had said those filthy words, so softly and lovingly. He strained himself to keep strong and not burst into his boxers at your words alone. “Let me take your clothes off, okay? Can I see all of you, baby?”

“Yes, p-please, just take everything of me— it's all yours” he promised you, helping you take off that black t-shirt he knew you loved to see on him so much. Exactly why he had put it on that morning.

When his naked torso was fully exposed for you, you bent down to kiss his neck, his collarbone, his pecs, your tongue spent some extra time fondling his sensitive nipples and Bob's legs twitched under your thighs.

The light in the room flickered for a split second and you just grinned against his flushed skin.

“I-I'm sorry—” he apologized with his voice lowering sheepishly, embarrassed. Then he closed his eyes when you raised your head to hush him with a kiss that was more tender than anything, reassuring him in silence.

Then your lips specifically grazed the spot where his heart was, beating maniacally on the other side of his skin.

He was so perfect, effortlessly perfect.

Bob was the most powerful man on planet Earth and yet, he was crumbling beneath you, bowing to the mercy of your touch.

You might as well just tear his chest apart and take his heart, it was already lying open for you, so full of you.

It was yours to take, to hold, to shatter.

You took your time to strip off his gray sweatpants, kissing his thighs, his knees and his calves, gently tugging at the hem of the gray fabric until you eventually slid it off his body and tossed it on the floor, forgotten alongside your scandalous suit.

Bob stared at you with a blushing, timid face as you rose again up through his body, your fingers lightly fiddling with the hem of his boxers now, fully ruined by all the pre-cum he'd been spilling. And you lifted your gaze, searching for his, silently asking for his consent.

He nodded tremblingly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

With wobbly hands he helped you take off his boxers, lifting his hips so you could slide them down his body and toss them into the pile of clothes lying on the floor as well.

His cock sprung free and you looked at it in awe.He was so big, bigger than you had ever had before. It was long too, hard, powerful and desperate for you, just like him.

It's head was furiously red, throbbing and oozing pre-cum incessantly. You found it impossible not to bend down to his groin and swipe your tongue along his slit, scooping up every essence of him and savoring it delightfully. Your tongue lolled along the prominent vein that bulged all along his shaft.

Bob's eyes rolled back and in a blur of bliss, he had to struggle to guide a hand to your head, fingers brushing across your cheek to get your attention. You looked up at him with big, lustful eyes, swallowing everything you had slurped out of him. The taste was bittersweet, hot, familiar, like him.

“No— don't do— don't do that, p-please,” he begged for your mercy in a raspy, cracked, breathless voice. “Come here.”

His hand gripped yours as you took it and carefully, but hurriedly helped you to position yourself on top of him once again, his digits latched onto you your waist, holding you as you squatted just above his lap, straddling him.

You grabbed his cock and held it up against your pussy, the swollen tip slowly sliding in between your wet folds, pushing achingly slow through your entrance.

Both of you sighed at the contact. Wet, hot, shaky and desperate.

Slowly you began to sink down on his cock, hands pressed on his shoulders, clenching them more and more with every inch he pushed inside you. 

Bob whimpered shudderingly, choking back the deep, heavy moan that crawled up his throat. He could feel his whole body shivering, squinting his eyes as he leaned his sweaty forehead against your shoulder, struggling to steady his breathing. It was like his soul was slipping out of his body and merging with yours.

No one had ever been so close to his soul. And he didn't think anyone else would, either. No one did it like you. 

His veiny hands at your waist gripped your flesh, yet they never pressed you hard enough to push you lower any faster, no, he would wait for you so patiently, giving you the pause to accustom yourself to his size.

“You do it so— so good.” Bob praised hoarsely into your shoulder, his wet lips grazing across your skin, drooling all over you, “you take it so good, you take me so good. There's n-no one like you— no one.”

Heavenly, him pressing against you, his lips laying softly upon your neck, marking you on the outside and inside, his mouth felt like heaven, his kisses falling upon you like stars, shaping a constellation of raw adoration. 

Your pussy fluttered around him, squishing him deeper inside. 

One of his hands wandered down to your back, fingers tracing your spine reassuringly. He just took the time to reassure you amidst all the blissful trance of pleasure you made him feel.

“Just a little more, baby,” he murmured, his hand caressing your ass appreciatively. Your warm, spongy walls clamped down tight around his cock and Bob's voice cracked. “Oh— S-shit—”

You moaned so loudly against his forehead that your whole spine seemed to twitch, finally feeling your ass pressed down on his lap. He was so deep that you easily thought his tip was almost reaching all into your guts now. 

“You're so deep, Bob” You whined, just barely pulling away from him so you could look at him. His eyes were already locked on yours and you caught a glimpse of that golden sparkle flashing through them, his irises glowing like two suns in the twilight. “Bobby—”

Your words struck him to the core and his eyes flashed golden once again, utterly starting to lose control. 

“I'm here,” he hissed, panting your name breathlessly, his hands caressed your skin, scoring his imprint on it. He kissed you sloppily, “I got you, I always got you.”

As you began to move on top of him, Bob suddenly felt like he was in heaven. He could no longer envision a life where he didn't feel this way, where he didn't feel you. He shall be yours in every life.

He dropped back on the bed as your hand pushed against his chest, bending down with him and bouncing your hips so lusciously against his that you actually could see his eyes filling with tears, looking up at you riding him in pure adoration. 

Bob whimpered your name endlessly, crying it out in a hoarse, broken voice, his hands squeezed your waist, your hips, your ass, anything they could possibly grope out of you.

“My God—” his eyes rolled back, arching his back as you delivered a particularly hard bounce down his cock, so deep that he saw the stars twinkle in the darkness right behind you. 

The constant filthy noise of flesh slapping against flesh soon merged with the pornographic acoustic medley of moans, shattered sighs, slurred whispers of names and nonsense words.

You kissed his lips lazily, then his nose, and his chin as you cooed, “You feel so good, baby.”

The bed was beginning to creak beneath the ruthless sway of your hips, ass bouncing up and down heavy against his thighs, so deep that every time you bottomed out you felt him in your throat. His heavy balls were pressed hard against your ass, throbbing, so ready to give you everything they had, to fill you up to the brim, as if it were his sole purpose in life. 

“You're perfect— perfect,” he croaked out so pathetically to you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours, plunging into you as if you were his nest, engulfing himself within your soft, warm, spongy walls, pressing against that squishy spot that knocked the breath right out of you.

He kissed your lips once more and in a fragment of a second Bob flipped you over on the bed, rutting into you so good that it made you gasp between kisses. 

Bob began to set the pace just as your legs wrapped around his hips, pressing him impossibly close to you.

“Right there?” he whispered, burying his head down on your chest, nuzzling your sternum. “You feel perfect— so tight, my God—”

He kept on praising you endlessly, kissing you, grasping you, breathing in the air you breathed out, sharing the same oxygen, the same time-space that existed between you, that little inches that belonged to both of you and no one else.

“You feel like heaven.”

That was enough for him to have you cumming again, in some way even more earth-shattering than the last orgasm. Your body started to wobble, your pussy squelching and clenching so tightly wrapped around his cock. 

The light voltage in the room lowered and raised, matching the racing beat of your heart.

Bob sensed the energy sparking off your body and blending with his own, merging and intertwining as one. 

After feeling that, after feeling you so close, so inhumanly close, beyond the physical plane, beyond anything he had ever felt in his life —it was euphoric, overwhelming—; he was cumming too, picking up the pace to reach the apex of his high. 

He buried himself in you to the hilt, sobbing out a ragged whimper as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

The atmosphere shifted and the light in the room flickered once again.

His load felt hot and thick inside you, coloring your insides with his color, spurting what resembled an ocean of him inside your womb. His hips jerked, his cock shooting out ropes and ropes of hot seed, marking you from the inside.

Bob remained motionless on top of you, panting up against your face, keeping his eyes closed, buried to the fucking hilt inside your overwhelmingly stuffed pussy, making sure nothing could spill out.  

And even though his body was drained and succumbing to post-orgasm limpness, he was careful not to collapse his full weight on you, supporting his hands on either side of your shoulders. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him close to you, hands soothingly caressing his back. He sighed against your lips, slowly opening his eyes.

Until then you hadn't realized that the room was completely dark now. 

“I think we just blew out the voltage of the room.” You uttered after a comfortable silence, your throat felt scratchy and though you were still in the haze of the afterglow, your voice came out rather playful.

Bob glanced lazily away from you, finally noticing that there was, in fact, no light. He was grateful for that in a way, that way you couldn't see the blushing, tear-stained mess that was his face, snuggling it against your chest. 

“I'm s-sorry,” he stammered in his own raspy voice as well, embarrassed, as if he wasn't balls deep inside you, his seed gushing out of your pussy. “I think— I think it was me.”

“I think it was both of us.” You smiled lovesickly as you kissed his sweaty forehead, fingers tracing his shoulder blades. “Don't worry, we'll fix it. Just give me a few minutes.”

Bob placed a couple of kisses on your chest before he began to reluctantly push himself up, carefully pulling out of you. You both sighed lightly at the over-stimulation and the loss of connection. Although, even when he had already slipped his cock off you, you could still feel him inside, leaking out of your gaping pussy, trickling down your thighs.

Bob rushed off in search of a washcloth, stumbling over the pile of clothes you had tossed on the floor. The sound of his feet walking clumsily back to you made you grin.

Then he swiped the cloth in between your legs, very delicately, wiping you clean. The contact made you shiver from the sensibility.

And even through the shadows of the darkness, you could see him frown slightly, very much focused on taking care of you, sensing how the fabric of the cloth felt uncomfortable against your sensitive skin, “I'm sorry.”

“You apologize too much, baby” you tried to reassure him, already in need of him close to you again. “Come here.”

Bob instantly flopped down on the bed next to you, careful not to crush you, but with your arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him tight against you it was complicated.

In between hugs and caresses, he ended up being the little spoon, happy to be able to feel your chest pressing against his back, arms embracing his torso.

“Did I— I do okay?” he asked after a brief silence, anxious.

“You were perfect.” You assured him, tenderly kissing his shoulder.

“You too” Bob whispered back, grabbing one of your hands on his chest and bringing it to his mouth, planting soft kisses on your knuckles. The words raced up his throat even before he could think, “I love you.”

He let the words carry up into the silence of the darkness and held his breath, already considering that he had ruined everything.

“I love you too, Bob.”

If it hadn't been for you holding him, his limbs tangled with yours, and because well, you were there, Bob had jumped out of his bed in joy.

But, because you were there, he stayed still, perfectly still, and smiled, utterly in love, savoring the way you had said the three words to him.

You were closing your eyes, drifting off in exhaustion when, through your super-hearing you heard steps approaching through the hallway, of more than a pair of feet, mixing with the voices of your teammates.

“What could have happened?” You heard Ava's voice ask, her tone hovering somewhere between worried and annoyed.

Yelena sighed. “I don't know. Some power failure?”

“A power failure in the whole city?” John remarked, as snarky as usual.

Your eyes opened wide and Bob halted his cute kisses on your hand, turning his head so he could look at you like a deer dazzled by lights.

[amomentsescape]

Slashers handling ovulating s/o?? 😚

Btw I love your work so much! You’re amazing

Slashers with Ovulating! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo

Warnings: MDNI, suggestive and mature content (It gets pretty steamy but nothing too crazy)

A/N: Definitely the most NSFW fic I've posted on this page. As a reminder, I don't write smut so this will probably be as steamy as I get for my posts. But this was a fun request, and I enjoyed writing for it! Thank you, Anon!

Freddy Krueger

Your dreams give you away

(Yes, he'll watch your dreams if he's not already controlling them; there's no privacy with this man)

And he's very interested in these dreams you've been having recently

It only takes a couple for Freddy to quickly snap

You'll go to sleep one night only to find yourself immediately in Freddy's domain

The setting and environment feeling very familiar somehow

You won't see him at first, but you'll definitely feel him around you, his voice echoing around the dreamscape

"Wanna make those dreams come true, baby?" he cackles throughout the darkness

Before you'll be able to respond, you'll feel his hand slide over your waist

The question was mostly out of politeness

He's not going to let you say no now that he has you (not that you were going to anyways)

Michael Myers

He picks up on everything in an instant

Your smell, your actions, your voice- literally everything is screaming at him

Now, Michael has a lot of self-discipline

He could just go about the day like usual and not need to indulge in anything

But he wants to

Don't mistaken this for "giving in"

It's just another way for him to put himself in control

You're just so desperate for him that he can just about get away with anything he wants

A simple touch has you weak in the knees, a slap on the ass has you arching your back

He could just absolutely ruin you these next few days

And he is very much planning on doing so

Jason Voorhees

Jason is fairly innocent when it comes to this sort of topic with you

But unlike Bubba, he does pick up on your teasing after a bit, he's just too flustered to do anything back

He loves the attention, but the way you're making him feel is causing him to freeze up and blush wildly under his mask

He knows you love him, but he can't understand how someone like you could possibly desire someone like him

He can't even hold eye contact with you when you're looking at him like that

When you've finally grown too impatient, you'll hop on his lap and grab his cheek, forcing him to look at you

He'll give you a big sigh and concerned eyes, silently asking if you're sure

"Jason. I want you. I want you and only you."

Those words must have been laced with magic, because a switch flips, and he's suddenly standing up, holding you bridal style

He'll toss you onto the bed and crawl on top, suddenly more confident than earlier

Looks like all he needs is a little bit of reassurance during this time of the month

Thomas Hewitt

It might just be the primal side of him, but he can literally smell it

Your pheromones during this time of month are always consistent to the point that he anticipates this weeks in advance

He lingers around you more often than normal (which isn't saying much since he stays near you 99% of the time anyways)

He's just waiting for the moment that you'll let him take a bite

And if you bump into him just slightly, his breath hitches and he'll freeze, hoping maybe you'll turn that bump into something more

Stands a little too close to you so he can breathe in your scent

But he's also hoping it'll increase the chance of you rubbing up against him on "accident"

This only makes things worse for the both of you until you two are finally alone together

All you have to do is give him that look, and he's throwing you over his shoulder, locking you two away for the night

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is a very innocent man

He didn't even really know what the concept of "sex" was before you

So unfortunately for you, pulling out all stops will quite literally do nothing

You could stand there completely bare in front of him, and he'll sweetly think you want to shower

That's not to say you're constant touches and flirting don't do anything for him

They do, he just doesn't understand what that feeling is yet

When you finally get to be alone with him, you'll gently let your hands wander, watching carefully at his reactions

Once you hit a sensitive spot, you'll know

His breath will hitch and he'll give you this soft, pleading look

And once you kiss him, that fire inside him will quickly engulf his body

You just have to give him a sweet questioning glance, and he'll be feverishly nodding his head, grabbing at your wrists to continue

Brahms Heelshire

To be honest, whether or not your ovulating doesn't really change how Brahms acts around you day to day

Because he is always down bad for you

But he does appreciate how quickly you seem to return his advances during this time of the month

He enjoys turning it into some sort of game when he can too

You'll feel his breath on your neck, only to be met with an empty room

You'll feel his gaze on you all throughout the house without a single sight of his whereabouts

When you finally have had enough, you'll break

Turning on the shower peaks his interest

And the moment he sees that first button of your top open, he's revealing himself from the walls

You've been working so hard for him today

He thinks it's time for you to finally relax

Norman Bates

Norman knows before you do

The sweet man tracks your cycles for you, always wanting to be prepared to care for you in the way you need

But this time of month isn't one where he feels too bold

He becomes even more shy somehow, having trouble holding eye contact

Every kiss or hug from you sets him aflame, and he turns into a blushing mess

It's honestly like he's the one who's ovulating

And all you have to do is hold him for just a little bit too long and whisper in his ear to make him break

He'll quite literally fall to his knees in front of you, waiting for anything

He'll do whatever it is you ask

Like I said, he wants to care for you in any way you need

Billy Loomis

He tries to be smug about everything

You're more affectionate than normal, even doing some PDA that he's not used to from you

He just acts like his usual self out in public

But the moment you two are alone, he confronts you

He'll pin you against the door, his free hand wandering across your skin while he looks at you with dark eyes

"You think I can't see what you're doing? It's not very nice of you to be such a tease."

His voice is barely above a whisper while his grip on you tightens

His wandering hand finds the most sensitive spot on you and squeezes, causing you to let out a whimper

He smiles in return

"You're going to have to do better than that to make it up to me," he whispers, leaning in gently

Stu Macher

Look at this guy

He literally can't keep his tongue in his mouth (sorry, bad joke)

He can tell something is up though

You're more cuddly than usual, practically sitting on his lap at all points during the day

And Stu does not mind one bit, but he isn't sure what's gotten into you

You're hoping he'll take the hint, but he's as oblivious as he is happy

It's only when you straddle his lap and kiss him deeply that he understands what's going on

His hands are on you in an instant

He'll happily oblige to your "demands"

Just be careful when and where you decide to break though

Because the moment you open that door, Stu will be having you in that instant

And if he has to pull you into a broom closet in public to do so...

He will

Vincent Sinclair

Despite barely seeing the light of day most of his life, he's fairly knowledgeable about everything

But unlike his brother, he doesn't really get driven up the wall by this time of the month

He just wants you to be happy, so if being flirted with and touched every two seconds is what you want, he'll happily go along with it

Even though his face feels like it's going to burn off again every time

He won't initiate anything, but he also won't say no to anything you do

Just guide his hands and tell him what you need, and he'll be helping you out instantly

He doesn't even expect anything in return

But when you smile at him just like that, his brain might short circuit

He'll be your slave if you ask nicely

Bo Sinclair

Bo is, well, Bo

He sometimes acts like he can't tell or that he's too "deep" into his work at the moment to be bothered

But he knows

And he loves the feeling of being needed and desired

You'll come up to him, hugging him for a bit too long, your hands lingering on his chest and torso

He likes to play coy

He wants to see you break first

He'll happily make it worse for you too

Hands on your waist, a gentle caress of your neck, that piercing gaze of his

He can see your face flush and body practically tremble at his actions

But he won't do anything about it

It won't be until the end of the day when he finally comes back home to find you already waiting at the door

You about have to throw yourself onto him before that smile finally breaks out onto his face

"So impatient, aren't we darlin'? Gonna show me just how badly you need me?"

[mephisto-reporting]

Silk, Satin and Sensual

Premise: Headcanons on his preferences for lingerie and his reaction when he sees you in them. Based on this request. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. Caleb version is out!!. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

XAVIER

Xavier has a thing for soft, celestial tones like white, cream, silvers and muted golds. He’s drawn to fabrics that shimmer faintly, almost like starlight against your skin. He has a thing for delicate patterns, like lacework.

Sheer materials like mesh and chiffon drive him wild, especially if they reveal just enough to leave him craving more. He prefers the balance of teasing and revealing, where the fabric hints at your curves without fully exposing them.

He’s absolutely obsessed with your thighs and prefers lingerie that accentuates them. Garter belts, thigh-high stockings, and intricate lace shorts are his kryptonite.

If you have small celestial accents like tiny golden stars or moon charms hanging from the garters… good fucking luck. You are not walking the next day.

He has an unapologetic habit of tearing your lingerie when he loses control, so he’s constantly replacing your wardrobe. His explanation? “It’s not my fault they’re made so fragile. I’ll get you something sturdier—next time.”

Once the damage is done and your new lingerie is in shreds, Xavier looks annoyingly unbothered. He’ll casually toss the ruined piece aside and murmur, “Guess I’ll have to buy you another.”

He’ll commission a lingerie set made of delicate ivory lace with gold threads woven into it, shaped to mimic constellations. He’ll surprise you with thigh-high stockings that have faint, shimmering patterns running up the sides. These are always paired with garter belts because he loves tugging on them when he is intimate with you.

He’ll leave the box on your bed, wrapped in soft cream paper with a gold ribbon. Inside, there’s always a handwritten note in his steady handwriting. “For you. You’re too beautiful not to be dressed like the stars themselves.”

His reactions:

The moment he sees you in lingerie, his carefully composed demeanor melts away, replaced by an intense, almost predatory focus. His eyes lock onto your thighs, and his voice becomes a low murmur laced with want. He is the definition of: his eyes darkened.

Xavier likes the idea that these pieces are chosen specifically for his eyes. If anyone else saw you in them, even accidentally, it would ignite a streak of jealousy.

If you walk past him too many times, deliberately flaunting the look, he’ll finally snap. One moment, you’re teasing him; the next, you’re backed against the wall with his hands tracing the garter straps. “Do you want me to tear this off?” he’ll ask, his voice soft but carrying that dangerous edge. Spoiler: He’s already decided the answer.

ZAYNE

Zayne prefers earthy tones—rich browns, deep greens, warm ambers, and muted burgundies. These hues remind him of natural beauty, grounding yet alluring. He loves subtle details like lace trim, delicate straps that crisscross your back, or a ribbon that ties just above your hips—small elements that add to the allure.

Zayne is drawn to pieces that accentuate your waist. Corset-style lingerie, high-waisted panties, or teddies with cinched designs are his favorites. He admires the way they create an hourglass effect, appreciating your silhouette.

He has a thing for materials that feel good to the touch: silky satins, fine lace, and soft mesh. The tactile experience is as important to him as the visual.

Zayne has impeccable taste, selecting pieces that balance seduction with sophistication. Think satin teddies with plunging necklines or lace bodysuits with subtle, sheer paneling. He gravitates toward lingerie sets that emphasize your natural beauty rather than overwhelming it—clean lines, elegant accents, and designs that celebrate your form.

When Zayne gifts you lingerie, he makes it an intimate experience. He’ll lay the gift on the bed, wrapped in tissue paper with a single dried flower,something earthy and subtle, like a sprig of lavender or rosemary. His note is direct: “For when you’re ready to let me admire you properly.”

Zayne picks quality over quantity. He’d rather gift you one stunning, well-made piece than several forgettable ones. His selections are designed to last—not that he always gives them the chance to.

His gaze never wavers. When you wear lingerie, Zayne’s eyes lock on yours before slowly traveling down your body, making you feel like the most captivating thing in the world.

There’s no ripping it off, but it won’t take long before he’s slipping the fabric off. He’s not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. There’s a certain hunger in how he undresses you.

His Reaction:

When you walk into the room wearing one of his carefully chosen pieces, Zayne’s reaction is immediate. His calm is replaced by a sharp intake of breath, his eyes trailing over you with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

Zayne’s fingers brush over the fabric with deliberate slowness, his palms lingering against the soft satin at your hips. “Feels even better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a heated smirk. “But I think it’d feel better on the floor.”

If you tease him, letting a strap fall off your shoulder or adjusting the lace just so—Zayne’s control begins to crack. His hands are on you instantly, his voice dropping to a growl. “You like testing me, don’t you? Keep it up, and you’ll see what happens.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel is drawn to soft, pastel shade like gentle blues, lavender, and delicate purples. He prefers lingerie that’s sweet and soft, evoking a sense of innocence while still being sensual.

He gravitates towards cuter lingerie like bralette sets with flowing chiffon accents, babydolls with sheer overlays, or high-waisted lingerie shorts. He likes pieces that don’t reveal too much but are so alluring that he cannot keep his eyes off you.

Rafayel is obsessed with fine details such as silver waistbands that drape lightly like jewelry, chokers that gleam with tiny pearls, delicate chain straps on your bra, tiny dangling gemstones, or trims that sparkle subtly in the light.

Sheer robes, flowing fabrics, and fluttering hems draw his gaze as they cling to your skin over your lingerie like water waves. If you are wearing a lingerie, fresh out of the shower with your hair still wet, it is game over for this man.

Rafayel treats every moment with you in lingerie as sacred. He doesn’t rush; instead, he takes his time, savoring every detail like an artist admiring their finest work

Rafayel is the kind of person who doesn’t just buy off the shelf. He’ll have something specially commissioned for you, likely a set of lingerie that reflects your personality and his artistic sensibilities. His commission might even include small charms that are Lemuria inspired.

Rafayel, though loving, is bashful when it comes to gifting lingerie. He would likely have the lingerie sent to you without a grand reveal, perhaps bundled with other gifts like chocolates, perfume, scarves that might distract from his true intentions. His note will be brief, almost casual: “Some pieces I thought you'd appreciate, seeing as you're always so fashionable.”

His Reaction:

The first time you step out wearing one of his custom sets, a soft lavender bralette with delicate gold chain accents and a matching choker—Rafayel freezes. Rafayel can’t stop staring, though he tries to look away, his hand rising to cover his mouth as his blush deepens. “I-I didn’t think it would suit you this perfectly…” he stammers, his gaze flicking back to you despite himself.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to be so… um… revealing,” he stammers, eyes lingering on the intricate lace and the subtle gleam of the small jewels. “But… you look… divine.” When Rafayel touches the fabric, his fingers tremble against your skin. He’s so gentle, almost reverently so, as though touching you in this way is an act of worship.

"It’s like you’re wearing my art… and I can’t stop admiring it." His gaze will flicker between your face and the lingerie, doing his best to hold himself together. “Why are you doing this to me?” he’ll murmur with desire. “I just want to keep you here... like this... for as long as possible.” he whispers, voice barely audible, as though if he spoke louder, he might break the spell.

SYLUS

Sylus gravitates toward bold, classic colors like deep blacks, rich reds, and occasionally luxurious whites, midnight blues or dark emerald greens. These colors resonate with him. He appreciates the elegance of these shades, as they exude sophistication and bold sensuality.

He’s a silk and satin man through and through. These fabrics are smooth, luxurious, and irresistible to his touch. He loves how they glide over your skin and how they feel beneath his fingertips.

He loves classic, timeless lingerie: lacy bras with garter belts, high-cut panties that highlight your legs, and elegant teddies that hug every curve. Think luxury brands and couture pieces that scream sensuality.

Occasionally, Sylus surprises you with bolder, risqué styles: Cage-style bras with open backs, strappy bodysuits that playfully expose just enough skin, lingerie with sheer panels, leaving little to the imagination.

He doesn’t tear or rush; instead, he carefully folds each piece, placing it aside after everything is said and done. “I’ll want to see this on you again.” he explains with a sly smirk

Sylus doesn’t stop at gifting you a single set. Every outfit in your closet has a matching pair of lingerie. You’ll find lingerie for every occasion. Sylus alwayssurprise you with a box containing lingerie hidden among other extravagant gifts—fine jewelry, luxurious robes, or even a custom-made vanity to store your collection: “Maybe my luck is not be so bad if I am the only man who gets to see you in these, sweetie.”

For Sylus, lingerie isn’t just for the bedroom. He loves seeing you lounge in one of his tailored sets, reclining on his sofa as you read or listen to music together. Sylus is content to let his hands roam over the satin, enjoying the feel of it warmed by your skin. “Stay like this,” he’ll say softly, his voice a mix of command and yearning. “I want to keep you close.”

True to his nature, Sylus has a habit of keeping little trophies. He has a drawer in one of his private residences dedicated to these keepsakes  as a reminder of your shared moments. If you ever catch him in the act of placing something there, he’ll simply shrug with a sly grin. “Can you blame me? I keep what’s mine.”

His Reaction:

When you step into the room wearing something he’s chosen for you, Sylus’ composed exterior falters, just slightly. His gaze darkens, and his lips curl into a small, satisfied smirk. He’ll take a slow step toward you, one hand tucked casually in his pocket, the other reaching out to trail a finger down the silk, letting it rest against your hip.

Without hesitation, he’ll scoop you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to where he wants you—be it the bedroom, his grand leather chair in the study, or even the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. “I’m not letting you out of my sight when you like this.”

Sylus never tears your lingerie—he unwraps you like the most precious gift, his hands moving with reverent care. “You deserve to be savored, not rushed.” he whispers, his gaze locked on you. He’ll seat you on his lap or lay you down, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate movements along the fabric. The lingerie is not just for his pleasure, it is for yours as well.  

CALEB

Caleb prefers lingerie that’s just for him—sexy yet teasing, revealing enough to drive him mad but covering just enough to make him desperate.

Caleb gravitates toward sleek, understated sensuality. He favors deep, alluring colors like navy, black, and dark burgundy, shades that hint at elegance but still feel undeniably intimate. However, he has a soft spot for delicate lilacs and soft purples, especially when they complement your skin.

Minimal but devastatingly effective designs have him on edge. Thin straps barely holding everything together, high-cut panties that accentuate your legs, delicate bralettes that are more about aesthetics than practicality. He loves when the details like lace appliques or ribbon ties demand his attention. Anything he can tug, unravel, or ruin.

Let’s be real. Caleb is not a man who delicately undresses you. He’s been patient his entire life, watching, waiting, restraining himself. The moment you’re finally his? He’s not taking his time. “You knew what would happen when you put this on, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough—before the sound of tearing lace fills the room.

If you ever wonder why pieces of your lingerie mysteriously disappear, don’t. Caleb takes them when you’re not looking, slipping them into his uniform pockets or luggage when he’s preparing for deployment. He’s possessive, obsessive, and when he’s away on fleet missions, he wants something of yours to keep with him. A delicate lace garter? A silk chemise you once wore to bed? He’ll tuck them away like trophies, running his fingers over them late at night, mind filled with thoughts of you.

He’s a man who gives gifts with purpose. He knows exactly what you want, and he knows what he wants. If he’s getting you that plushie you mentioned offhandedly, or the book you’ve been dying to read, you will find a carefully wrapped lingerie set alongside it. Every gift is a two-for-one deal—his way of spoiling you while satisfying his own desires. Tucked inside, there’s always a note with cheeky messages: "Making dinner tonight. But if you wear this, you'll be the dessert."

Caleb is the picture of patience in public. He knows what you’re wearing underneath your dress—he saw you put it on, watched every slow movement in the mirror. But he doesn’t let it show. Not a single twitch of his lips, not a single shift in his stance. He leans down, lips brushing your ear, his voice impossibly calm: “You’re going to regret this later.”

There is one thing that drives him past the point of no return— his clothes on you. Seeing you in his oversized shirt is one thing, but if he catches you lounging in his boxers? He’s done. His fingers dig into the waistband, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “You must really like testing me, huh?” His breath is hot against your neck, his hands already tugging the waistband lower. Any plans you had for the day? Gone.

His Reaction:

When you step into the room, wearing something meant just for him, his expression darkens immediately. There’s a brief flicker of something feral in his purple eyes—desire, possessiveness, raw hunger. He doesn’t say a word at first, just stands there, his breath held. “You expect me to behave after this?” His patience is frayed, and it's clear he’s barely holding onto his composure.

Try to tease him, make him work for it and he’ll let you, for a moment. He enjoys the chase, the way you think you’re in control. But the moment he decides he’s had enough? You’re done for. One second, he’s watching you with quiet intensity, and the next, you’re beneath him, your wrists pinned, your breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence.

When he touches you, it’s as if he can’t get enough—his fingers move with purpose, reverence, but there’s an undeniable urgency. “You’re mine. Always.” And with that, his lips crash against yours, taking what’s his. There’s no gentle teasing here—this is pure, unfiltered desire. It’s clear there’s no going back now. You’ve pushed him past the point of no return. The soft, teasing lace may have been your choice—but now everything that happens from there is his.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

taglist: @cordidy

[uhuhmaries]

PART 2 (A.A.) — Control Freaks

Summary: Diving into the filthy mess. Literally just pure FILTH.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral (f & m receiving), 69 position, dom!Harry with light sub undertones, praise & teasing, public-ish sex (curtains open), unprotected sex (don’t do this irl pls), age gap (reader is mid-20s, Harry is early 30s), power play, mutual obsession, emotional tension, one-night stand vibes that evolve, slight possessiveness & rough edges, minor alcohol references

Series: Almost Acquaintances

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You…. Gave in.

The door to the black SUV slams shut behind you before you can say a word. Harry’s hand is still loosely wrapped around your wrist, but now it’s just the two of you in the quiet hum of leather seats, the party music muffled into the distance.

You shoot him a faux-scandalized glare. “So this is what getting kidnapped by a pop-star feels like?”

He leans back in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other rubbing his jaw with the slowest, smug grin. “You seemed like you wanted rescuing,” he murmurs. “Thought I’d offer a ride. Somewhere quieter.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Quieter, or dirtier?”

His laugh is low, scratchy. “Depends on you, bunny.”

The ride to his house is slow—he makes sure of it. Every red light feels intentional. You sit with your legs crossed, acting like a good girl, but he can feel your gaze tracing the tattoo peeking from under his sleeve, the way you slightly shift every time he rests his hand near the gearshift.

“I can feel you staring,” he says, eyes still on the road.

You blink innocently. “Just wondering how many girls you’ve kidnapped this week.”

He chuckles, glancing at you sideways. “None with that fake innocence as badly as you.”

You smile sweetly, “Good. I like to stand out.”

When you arrive, his hand grazes your lower back as he leads you inside… a mansion, of course, dimly lit, clean, and way too quiet. He offers you water. You decline.

“You can stay, y’know,” he says, voice suddenly softer. “You don’t have to go.”

You hum, letting your back turn to him. “Oh? Generous of you offering me just to stay the night after kidnapping me from a party.”

And then, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, you hook your fingers under the zipper of your bodysuit and slowly, deliberately drag it down. The soft sound of the zipper feels loud in the silence. His breath catches before you even make it halfway.

You pause, glancing over your shoulder.

“Are you staring, Styles?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then the sound of his footsteps—fast, firm. His hands grip your hips and spin you around before your bodysuit’s fully undone, but he doesn’t push it back up.

Instead, he leans in, eyes blazing. “You think you’re clever?”

You smirk. “I know I am.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

His mouth crashes into yours before you can say another word. Hot, desperate, bruising. He walks you backward, tongue claiming yours with no hesitation, until your back hits the edge of the kitchen island. He pulls away just enough to speak, voice low and wrecked.

“Keep teasing me like that, and I’ll ruin you right here.”

Your hands tug at his costume, hinting him to take it off. “Isn’t that the point?”

He growls under his breath, easily stripping himself from his costume. Leaving him only in his shorts, then he lifts you easily–setting you on the cold countertop. His hands roam fast, possessive, and greedy–but he slows down when he gets between your thighs. His fingers drag up your lace-covered core like he has all the time in the world, even though his eyes look ready to snap.

“You play innocent, but your body’s screaming for it.”

You tilt your head. “Then give it to me.”

And he does.

He pulls your panties aside and sinks two fingers inside you—slow, deep, just to hear how you gasp. His thumb circles your clit in rhythm, while his other hand wraps gently around your throat, his grip firm but never cruel. You feel him twitching hard against your thigh, straining in his pants, but he doesn’t rush.

“You like letting me take control,” he says in a growl. “But you want to see how far you can push me first, don’t you?”

You meet his eyes and catch it—a flicker of something softer. Controlled, yes, but waiting. Waiting for you to take just a little more.

“You like when I take the lead,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist, “but I bet if I told you to get on your knees right now, you’d do it and beg me to pull your hair.”

His eyes darken.

For a moment, he doesn’t speak. But his jaw tightens. His fingers curl deeper inside you. And his voice drops to a whisper.

“…You’d be surprised.”

His stare lingers on you for a moment too long—like he’s trying to decide whether to throw you over his shoulder or drop to his knees and worship. But instead, he grabs your chin gently between his fingers, tilting your face to his.

“You don’t want to start a game you can’t finish,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours but never fully giving in.

You smile, breathless but composed. “Who said I ever quit?”

And that’s it. That’s the moment he breaks.

He hauls you off the countertop and drags you into the living room like he’s on a mission—his grip tight around your wrist, guiding you to the plush velvet couch with his steps controlled. The curtains are open. The city lights pour in through the giant windows, neon streaks dancing across the walls. You know damn well anyone in the buildings across could see you both. That’s what makes your pulse race harder.

The bodysuit hangs halfway off you, undone and inviting, and Harry doesn’t give you a moment to adjust. His lips trail down your jaw, then your neck, then lower.

You glance over his shoulder at the view and smirk. “You’re not even going to close the blinds?”

He doesn’t even look up. “Why would I?” he murmurs against your chest, voice thick with desire. “Let them watch.”

His mouth wraps around your nipple, tongue swirling before he sucks, slow and deliberate. His fingers slip between your thighs again, making you arch into him with a gasp you barely manage to muffle. Your hips roll against his palm like they’re aching for more, and they are.

“Still acting like you didn’t come here just for this,” he whispers.

“And you’re still pretending you don’t want to be told what to do,” you murmur back, threading your fingers through his hair and giving it a little pull.

He stills for a second (barely) then growls low in his throat and hooks your thighs over his shoulders.

“Careful, Y/N,” he says, the nickname now soaked in lust. “Say one more thing like that and I’ll have you screaming with the windows wide open.”

You giggle, breathless, but it cuts off when his tongue drags up your center—slow, teasing, thorough. He eats you like he has something to prove: that he’s still in control, even if your moans are the ones echoing off the windows. His tongue flicks and circles, then flattens, then plunges until your back arches and your hands claw at the couch cushions.

You look down, and for a split second… there it is.

The way his eyes flutter closed when your hand grips his curls tighter. The way he groans into you when you press your heel into his shoulder.

He’s still in charge. But part of him likes being taken there: led, dragged, used.

You file that away for later.

“Harry,” you pant, your voice cracking, your legs trembling, “You’re gonna make me—”

He doesn’t stop. In fact, he speeds up. And when you finally fall apart on his tongue, he groans like he’s the one unraveling.

He stands, mouth glistening, eyes dark and blown wide. You barely get a chance to recover before he pulls you up and spins you around, pressing your chest to the back of the couch. The city lights blaze in front of you, a full view of the world while your knees dig into velvet and your hands brace the edge.

You feel him behind you, thick and ready, rubbing against your folds. He pauses, breath hot against your ear.

“You gonna fake innocence now, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

You throw a look over your shoulder. “What do you think?”

With a low, strained curse, Harry guides the tip in slow, deliberate. It pulls a soft whimper from your throat, your body betraying you as your hips roll back, eager and greedy, swallowing him whole in one obscene, perfect motion.

He stills, breath catching as he watches. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “That was the filthiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The stretch steals the breath from your lungs, your eyes fluttering shut, jaw slack as your body struggles to adjust around him but he doesn’t give you time.

He pulls back just enough to slam forward again, setting a brutal pace from the start—each thrust sharp, punishing, deliberate. The couch creaks under the force of it, a helpless witness to the way he’s completely unraveling you.

Your palms slap the cushion.

Your body jolts with every thrust.

And the windows stay wide open.

He wraps your hair around his fist and pulls just enough to arch your back. “You feel so fuckin’ good. You gonna take it all for me?”

“Y-Yes,” you manage, barely. “Harder.”

He groans, deeper this time. “Fuck—gonna give you everything, baby. But you’ve gotta beg nicely.”

You turn your head, voice raw, flushed, grinning through it:

“Please, Harry. I need you to break me. Use me. However you want.”

That does it.

He fucks you like punishment, yet he’s the one panting your name like a prayer.

Your body’s trembling against the back of the couch, every breath coming out in shaky gasps as he slams into you over and over again. The slap of skin, the sharp whine of the velvet cushions underneath you, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the room—it’s all too much and still somehow not enough.

Harry’s grip on your hips definitely will be leaving marks now. His breath is ragged, jaw clenched as he fucks you harder, deeper, chasing the edge with everything he’s got.

“Fuck, bunny…” he growls through gritted teeth. “You’re taking me so well—so fuckin’ tight—so filthy, letting me do this where anyone could see.”

You whimper his name, collapsing forward as his hand finds your clit again—rough, fast, relentless. Your second orgasm crashes into you like a wave breaking through glass. Your whole body clenches around him, and you hear him snarl behind you.

“Jesus—fucking—Christ—”

His thrusts stutter. You feel him pulse deep inside you, spilling himself with a strangled groan that sounds like he’s unraveling right at the seams. His body folds over yours for a moment, forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven.

Neither of you move for a second. Then he pulls out slowly, with a soft hiss between his teeth. You feel the warmth of him dripping down your inner thigh.

And then he drops to his knees.

You blink, turning slightly to look back– but he’s already spreading your legs, gentle now, parting you like something sacred.

“Let me clean you up,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse, eyes not even meeting yours at first. He’s focused like he’s desperate to make it right.

You watch, breath still caught in your throat, as his tongue slides up your thigh, slow and purposeful. Then higher—tasting himself and you, licking up every trace he left inside you like he’s starving for it. His hands hold your hips steady while he works, making soft, filthy sounds against your overstimulated skin.

You should feel powerful. And you do.

But the way he moans into it—the way his tongue lingers, reverent and possessive—makes you realize something else:

He likes being on his knees for you. Or honestly, most likely just for anyone.

Not just because he has to.

Because he wants to.

His tongue is still working between your thighs, savoring the mess he made—lapping it up like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to taste.

You stare down at him, chest heaving, flushed and unsteady, and something about the sight of him—on his knees, hands gripping your thighs like he’s anchoring himself, pupils wide and wild, sparks a heat low in your belly that doesn’t go away with release.

It grows.

“You look pretty good down there,” you murmur, voice rough and sticky with desire. You run a hand through his curls, gently, like a reward. He lets out a soft, breathless laugh against you, but he doesn’t stop. His tongue stays locked on your soaked center, devoted and unrelenting, like your approval only fuels him.

You tug lightly. “But I’m not done with you.”

Harry leans back on his heels, blinking up at you, dazed. “Oh?”

You nod once toward the wide couch, and your voice drops to a tone you didn’t know you were capable of:

“Lie down, Styles.”

He obeys immediately. Eager, curious, and cocky but there’s a flicker of something else in his expression now. Something pliant.

He stretches out along the velvet, chest rising and falling fast, lips wet, eyes never leaving yours. He even props one arm behind his head like he’s trying to act casual, but the way he shifts beneath you betrays him—already hard again, already needy.

You straddle him slowly, your thighs on either side of his waist at first. He thinks you’re going to ride him. You lean in like you are. His mouth parts.

But then…. You lift up, scoot forward, and settle yourself directly over his face.

Harry’s breath catches, sharp and surprised but then he groans, deep and low, hands flying to your hips. You feel the grip, tight, almost possessive, but he doesn’t guide— he waits.

And you smile. “You gonna let me use your face, sweetheart?”

The whimper that leaves his throat could be classified as dangerous. His eyes flutter shut as his tongue flicks out, barely grazing your folds. You grind down in response—slow and slick and deliberate.

And he fucking moans.

You take your time. Ride his face like you’re savoring every second, every stutter of his breath, every twist of his tongue. His nose nudges your clit, and you rock forward with a gasp. His hands tighten, but he’s still letting you lead.

“Mmm—look at you,” you pant, glancing down. “Getting off on this already?”

He nods—fucking nods—his mouth still working, relentless.

His tongue moves like he’s mapping every inch of you—messy, greedy, obsessed. You ride it with your head thrown back, hands in your hair, moaning shamelessly into the open room. You don’t care about the view anymore.

“Fuck—Harry!” You gasp, grinding harder now, the pressure just right, the rhythm frantic. “I’m—gonna—oh—”

He sucks your clit at just the right second and that’s it. Your vision whites out. Your thighs tremble around his face, and you lose yourself—loud, raw, aching.

You twitch and roll your hips through the aftershocks, still straddling his mouth, his tongue giving soft, slow licks like he’s milking every last wave out of you. Like he’s addicted.

When you finally lift off him, your legs nearly give out.

Harry’s wrecked beneath you—lips swollen, chin wet, eyes heavy and so fucking gone.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers hoarsely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand but not breaking eye contact. “You’re gonna be the end of me.”

You crawl down his body, press a soft kiss to his jaw, then his lips. He kisses your mouth slowly, messy, claiming—and you kiss him back like you want to ruin him. His hands roam your body with a mix of reverence and urgency, cupping your ass, pulling you flush against his already-hard-again length. He’s insatiable. And so are you.

You slide down his body with intention, every movement deliberate. Settling on your side, this time your face– especially your lips hover near the thick, pulsing length aching for attention just as he shifts beneath you, hooking your thigh and guiding you back toward his mouth, tongue finding your heat like he’s starved for it.

You both exhale– shaky, desperate.

Your head rests just beneath his hips. His tongue parts your folds with a slow, deliberate stroke, and your breath catches as heat floods through you. Your hand wraps around his shaft, teasing the head with the flat of your tongue, savoring the twitch he gives in response.

He groans into you, the sound muffled but dark, and the vibration sends a jolt through your spine.

This isn’t gentle—it’s ravenous. You both take and give in tandem, your bodies locked in a rhythm of gasps, moans, and messy devotion. His grip tightens on your thigh, trying to keep control. But from the way he’s trembling under your mouth, he’s already losing it.

Your cheek rests just below his waist. His cock grazes your lips, heavy and warm, while his mouth finds your heat again—tongue sliding between your folds with practiced ease.

Your thighs already tremble, anticipation tightening every nerve as he moans softly against you, lost in the taste of you. The heat is immediate. All consuming.

He licks you right at the core—flat, slow drags of his tongue that make your toes curl. You moan against the head of his cock, and he shudders, hips twitching forward involuntarily.

“You’re unreal,” he mutters into your cunt. “Taste like heaven. Sound like sin.”

You take him into your mouth—slowly at first, savoring the weight and heat of him on your tongue—and he groans, bucking forward slightly before catching himself.

It’s a game of control now.

He sucks your clit and you moan around his cock. You swirl your tongue around the tip, and he practically whimpers against you. He’s relentless. You’re merciless. It’s mutual destruction.

His fingers dig into your thigh as his tongue works deeper, wetter, more desperate, and your hips buck uncontrollably.

You pull him deeper into your throat in retaliation—and that’s what finally does it. You feel him twitch in your mouth. He pulls off your cunt with a sharp gasp, panting into your skin.

“Fuck—don’t stop—fuck, bunny—”

You hum around him, moaning just to make it worse, and he loses it—spilling into your throat with a strangled cry, one hand gripping your hip while the other fists the couch cushion.

You swallow all of it.

Moments later, he comes down from it still panting, but his tongue never leaves you.

You arch back into him, crying out when his fingers replace his mouth just long enough to draw out your final orgasm of the night. You shake through it, legs kicking, breath broken and high.

He kisses your thigh softly, one last time. You both collapse—sweaty, panting, wrecked.

There’s a long silence between you. You feel his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you into his chest.

Stillness.

“I wasn’t supposed to like that that much,” he finally whispers, voice raspy against your neck.

You turn your head to look at him.

“Did you?”

He nods once, serious. “I did.”

You could laugh, but you don’t. You just let the silence fall again, warm and strange. You don’t know what this is yet. Or what it’ll mean when morning comes.

But tonight, it means everything.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

📝 Author’s Note:

I’m dyinggggggggggg. Feeling feral at 10am. I kinda didn’t read it after revising each paragraph so IM SORRY IF ITS KINDA SHIT. Next chapters will be a little more angsty I feel like to calm us all down 😭🙂‍↕️👁️

@thenovarose

[alohajix]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

Description: a late-night interview with Harry Styles turns into a game of control, filthy whispers, and desk-fucking in a locked studio where the mics are off—but the heat’s just getting started.

Warnings: this one-shot contains explicit sexual content, including oral sex (m/f), fingering, dominant language, mild choking, rough sex, and dirty talk. Readers +18.

Words count: 2.3K

*****

The studio was dim, lit only by the warm orange glow of the backlit shelves and the soft overheads above the mics. It was quiet, late, the city humming faintly behind soundproof glass.

I adjusted my headphones and clicked my pen, heart thudding harder than I’d like to admit. He was already seated across from me. Calm. Casual. Dangerous in the way only someone who knew their effect could be. Harry Styles. Black trousers, a partially unbuttoned shirt that made it impossible not to glance at his chest. Rings glittering under the low light. A few curls were pushed back behind his ears, and when his eyes met mine—slow and steady—I nearly forgot how to breathe.

“You nervous?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

I smirked, covering my fluttering chest with a raised brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You already know I’m not.”

God. His voice. Like honey dripped over gravel. Smooth, but with the scratch of something darker beneath. I cleared my throat, leaned toward the mic. “Alright. Final episode of Midnight Truths, and tonight’s guest probably needs no introduction—but I’ll give him one anyway. Singer, songwriter, actor, and a man whose fashion choices continue to outshine everyone else’s—Harry Styles.”

He grinned, biting the corner of his lip. “Thanks for having me.”

I pressed my lips together, composing myself. “So… what made you agree to this interview? Late night, small studio, no team, no pre-set questions.”

He shrugged one shoulder, eyes fixed on mine like he already knew the answer. “Heard you were good.”

“Just good?”

His smile widened. “Alright, fine. Heard you were dangerous.”

That sent a jolt down my spine. “I only ask honest questions.”

He leaned forward. “Then ask me something honest.”

The way he said it—soft, slow, velvet-wrapped—made the mic between us suddenly feel like the only thing keeping this professional. I clicked my pen again, flipping to a blank page in my notebook more for show than need. “Okay. First question: What’s something people think they know about you that’s completely wrong?”

He hummed, gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “That I’m always sweet.”

I blinked. The pause stretched between us.

“I think they’ve got it mostly right,” I said carefully.

His tongue wet his lower lip. “That’s ‘cause they’ve never had me cornered at midnight in a locked studio, have they?”

My stomach flipped. I shifted in my seat, pretending not to flinch at how wet his voice made me. “You think you’re cornering me?”

He grinned, slow and wicked. “Aren’t I?”

I cleared my throat again, heart pounding so loud I was afraid it’d be caught by the mic. “Let’s move on.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thought we were being honest.”

“I am,” I replied, voice tighter. “Honestly trying to stay focused.”

That earned a deep, warm laugh. “Alright. Your turn.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You ask honest questions. So do I. Your turn.”

“That’s not how interviews work.”

“Maybe not,” he murmured, “but that’s how I work.”

The air went still. I swallowed, hand tightening on my pen. “Fine. One question.”

He leaned in like he was settling in for a story, one arm draped over the back of his chair, shirt tugging across his chest. “Good girl.” My thighs clenched. I hoped he didn’t notice. “Why’d you agree to interview me alone tonight?” he asked.

My lips parted, but no words came out right away. His eyes didn’t waver. Neither did his smirk. I stared down at my notes, all the clever responses I’d rehearsed fading into useless dust.

“Because…” I said softly, “you make good content.”

He chuckled. “That all I make?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Do you flirt with all your interviewers, or am I just lucky?”

His eyes darkened. “You’re not lucky. You’re distracting.”

That shouldn’t have thrilled me. But it did. When I didn’t answer, he reached down and casually tugged his mic away. “Turn yours off,” he said quietly.

I blinked. “Why?”

“Because what I want to say next isn’t meant for the public.”

I hesitated, finger hovering over the mute button on my mic. I flicked the switch. My mic light went dark. So did his. It was just us now.

He leaned forward again, forearms braced on the table. “I’ve been thinking about what your voice would sound like if I had my fingers inside you.”

My breath hitched. No warning. No teasing lead-up. Just—filth. Coated in that soft, velvety tone.

My pulse pounded in my ears. “Jesus,” I whispered.

Harry smirked. “Is that a yes?”

“You can’t just say shit like that.”

He leaned closer. “You didn’t say no.”

I stared at him. At the way his eyes dragged over my lips. The way his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. The way his ringed fingers flexed slowly against the edge of the table.

“What if someone comes in?” I asked, trying to stay grounded even as I shifted in my seat.

“They won’t.” He stood, slowly, circling the table. “You locked the door, remember?” I had. God, I had.

He stopped behind me, fingers grazing my shoulders, then drifting down my arms. My skin lit up, nerves dancing.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured near my ear. “You’re distracting. I couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth the moment I sat down.”

I exhaled shakily. “And now?”

His hands slid to my hips, guiding me to stand. “Now I’m wondering how soft you’ll sound when I make you come.”

I turned in his arms. Our chests brushed. He was warm. Broad. Smiling just slightly, but with heat simmering in his eyes.

My fingers curled in his shirt. “Are you always like this?”

He leaned in, brushing his lips over mine—barely there. “No. Just with you.”

That was the moment I gave in. I kissed him. Hard. Hungry. He groaned into my mouth, one hand fisting in my hair, the other dragging down the curve of my back to squeeze my ass. I gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding slow and sure against mine. He tasted like mint and something headier, something that made my knees weak.

“Table,” he murmured, breath ragged. “Sit.”

I stumbled back and boosted myself up, the cold wood shocking against my thighs as I hiked my dress up. Harry moved between my legs, fingers already tugging at the edge of my underwear.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine as he dragged the lace down my thighs. “Is this all from me?”

I swallowed. Nodded.

“Fuck,” he breathed, dropping to his knees. “Let me taste it.”

My head tilted back, lips parting with a soft moan as his mouth met me—hot, wet, and filthy. His tongue worked slow circles at first, lazy and confident, then picked up pace as he spread my thighs wider and sucked on my clit. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. One hand anchored me on the table. The other threaded through his curls.

“Harry—”

He groaned at the sound of his name, then slid two fingers inside me.

My hips jerked. “Fuck—oh my god.”

He pumped them slowly, curling just right, his tongue relentless. Every sound I made, he answered with a moan like he loved it. Like he could come from this alone.

“Look at me,” he whispered against me. “Want to see your face when you fall apart.”

I lifted my head, eyes locking with his. That was it. I came hard, a choked cry breaking from my lips as I clenched around his fingers. He didn’t stop—kept licking, kept moving—until I was trembling, pushing weakly at his shoulder. Only then did he rise, licking his lips, eyes dark and blown out.

“You good, love?”

I nodded, chest rising and falling fast. “Holy fuck.”

He laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned in to kiss me again—slow this time, sweet.

“You’re not getting away with just that,” I whispered against his lips. “My turn.”

His breath caught. “Yeah?”

I slid off the table, dropped to my knees, and looked up at him.

“Take your time,” he said, voice strained. “I’m all yours.”

I unbuckled his belt slowly, my fingers steady despite the thrum of anticipation between my legs. He watched me—eyes low, chest rising and falling—his rings brushing through his hair as I tugged the button of his trousers open.

“You’re teasing me,” he murmured.

I looked up through my lashes. “Good.”

A dark chuckle left his lips. “Fucking hell.”

His cock was already hard beneath his briefs, the outline thick and heavy. I ran my fingers over him through the fabric, loving the way his hips pushed forward, subtle and hungry. When I slipped my hand beneath the waistband, he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Pull it out, baby,” he whispered, voice thick. “Wanna see those pretty lips around it.”

God, he was filthy in the softest fucking tone. I freed him from his briefs—thick, flushed, the tip already wet with pre-cum. I wrapped my hand around the base and leaned in, dragging my tongue along the underside slowly, deliberately.

“Shit,” he hissed. “Just like that.”

I swirled my tongue around the tip, teasing him, tasting salt and heat. His fingers tightened in my hair, not pushing—just holding. Waiting. Watching.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered. “So fucking sexy on your knees.”

I moaned around him as I sank down further, letting him fill my mouth inch by inch. He groaned—deep, broken—and his hand tightened.

“Fuck, your mouth feels unreal.”

I bobbed my head slowly, keeping eye contact, loving how his jaw clenched and his brows drew together. When I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, his hips jerked forward.

“Ah—shit. Baby. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

His voice cracked. His other hand braced against the edge of the table, rings clinking softly.

I pulled off for a moment, stroking him slowly with my hand. “You gonna come for me?”

His eyes were wild. “If you keep sucking me like that—yeah.”

I smirked, kissed the tip, and took him in again, this time deeper. Faster. His thighs trembled slightly. He let out a groan so filthy it echoed through the quiet studio.

“Such a good girl. Taking it so well. Fuck, you’re perfect—look at you.”

He started to move with me, fucking into my mouth with soft, shallow thrusts. I let him. Moaned around him. Loved the way he lost control.

And then he warned me—voice rough, almost broken. “Fuck—gonna come. You sure?”

I nodded, didn’t stop. Looked up at him with wide, hungry eyes. He came hard, gasping my name, spilling down my throat with a curse and a groan that sounded like it had been ripped straight from his soul. I swallowed. Every drop. Then pulled off with a soft pop. He stared down at me like I’d just ruined him.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, cupping my jaw as he leaned down. “You’re incredible.”

I smirked, licking my lips. “Good content, huh?”

He laughed, deep and breathless. “Best fucking episode of the season.”

Harry helped me to my feet, but the second I stood, he spun me around and pressed me back against the table, his chest warm against my back.

“You’re not done,” he murmured, voice low and rough in my ear. “You think you get to suck me off like that and not get ruined for it?”

I gasped when his hand slid between my legs, two fingers sliding through the mess he’d already made of me.

“Still this wet?” he growled. “Fuck.”

He dragged his fingers up to my mouth and tapped gently. I opened without hesitation, sucking them clean.

His breath hitched. “That’s it. Good girl.”

My dress was bunched at my waist, my panties already gone—somewhere near the mic cords, maybe. I didn’t care. Not when he was undoing his shirt behind me with shaking fingers and then stepping back in, bare chest pressed to my spine, cock already hardening again against my ass.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I walked in,” he whispered, lining himself up. “Bent over this fucking table… moaning for me.”

“Then do it,” I breathed. “Fuck me.”

He didn’t hesitate. One hard thrust, and I cried out, fingers gripping the edge of the table. He filled me completely—thick, deep, perfect—and didn’t give me time to adjust before pulling back and slamming in again.

“God—Harry—”

He wrapped a hand around my throat from behind, not tight—just holding me there, anchoring me in place.

“You like that?” he growled, fucking me harder now, pace brutal and steady. “You like being used like this?”

“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes—don’t stop—please—”

The table creaked beneath us, my skin slapping against the wood in time with his thrusts. One of his hands came around to play with my clit, rubbing quick circles that had my vision going white.

“You gonna come for me again?” he asked, voice rough and breathless against my ear.

I nodded desperately. “I’m close—I’m so close—”

“Then let go. Give it to me.”

His pace didn’t let up—just kept driving into me with filthy, focused precision, until I shattered around him with a cry that echoed through the silent studio. He kept fucking me through it, chasing his own release now, his hand still on my throat, his cock thick and perfect inside me. When he came, it was with a broken groan of my name, slamming into me one final time and burying himself deep.

We stood there, breathless, shaking, skin slick with sweat. His hands softened, sliding down my body like he didn’t want to stop touching me.

“You alright?” he murmured against my neck.

I smiled, still catching my breath. “More than alright.”

His lips brushed my shoulder. “Think this episode needs a part two.”

*****

a short one this time guys 💕

[sofiatarot]

Pick a card: How do men see you vs how do women see you?

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1->2

3->4

Group 1

How men see you:

Men perceive you as someone who is transitioning into a better version of yourself. You exude a sense of self-assurance and fulfillment, as though you’re content with your life and know your worth. They find you approachable yet slightly mysterious, giving the impression that you have layers to uncover. You might appear as someone who’s moved on from the past and doesn’t let nostalgia hold you back. Physically, they see you as balanced and harmonious, with features that stand out for their simplicity and elegance.

How women see you:

Women see you as someone who’s been through transformative changes and come out stronger. You inspire others with your sense of adventure and openness, as though you’re always ready for a new chapter in life. They might admire how relaxed you seem, not someone who feels the need to prove themselves or compete for attention. Your energy feels uplifting, almost idealistic, and your appearance reflects that: approachable, unique, and effortless, with a style that’s welcoming and relatable.

Group 2

How men see you:

Men see you as someone grounded, steady, and practical, someone they can count on. There’s a quiet strength about you, like you don’t need external validation to feel confident. At first glance, they may underestimate you, but once they get to know you, they’re drawn to your stability and the way you handle challenges calmly. Your appearance might be understated, but there’s a natural attractiveness to you—clean lines, practical choices, and an overall polished vibe.

How women see you:

Women admire your ability to find balance in life and create meaningful connections with others. You’re seen as nurturing yet independent, someone who brings a sense of calm and trustworthiness to any situation. You have a grounded presence that makes others feel safe, but there’s also a mystical, introspective side that intrigues them. Your appearance reflects this balance, with a timeless, well-maintained style that blends warmth and sophistication.

Group 3

How men see you:

Men perceive you as someone intense and hard to read. You might come across as guarded or cautious, like you’re always weighing your options before making a decision. They find this enigmatic side of you both frustrating and captivating. Your personality seems fiery and passionate, though they might sense some inner conflict or unpredictability. In terms of appearance, you stand out for your boldness or a certain sharpness in your features that adds to your allure. You don’t blend in; you’re unforgettable.

How women see you

Women see you as someone who’s been through a lot emotionally but refuses to back down. You might have a rebellious streak or a defiance of traditional norms that sets you apart. While some might find you intimidating, others admire your independence and ability to speak your truth. Your energy is intense and dynamic, and this reflects in your appearance: striking, unconventional, and commanding attention without trying too hard.

Group 4

How men see you:

Men find you deeply transformative, like someone who has an aura of mystery and depth. You give the impression of being constantly evolving, which makes you both fascinating and a little intimidating. Your emotional intelligence stands out, and they see you as someone who feels deeply yet keeps a certain level of control over your emotions. Your appearance might lean toward the dramatic, with bold choices or striking features that leave a lasting impression.

How women see you:

Women see you as someone who walks the line between introspection and action. You have a way of observing people and situations that feels deliberate, as if you’re always analyzing and learning. You come across as confident in who you are, with a magnetic energy that draws others to you. Your appearance reflects this: bold, confident, and captivating, with a sense of style that’s both refined and powerful.

xoxo ❤️‍🔥

[softaestluv]

Three’s A Crowd

When you moved into your new apartment complex you thought your biggest concern would be something practical such as mold in the shower or weak water pressure. Maybe even the smell of lingering cigarette smoke or marijuana from previous tenants.

You never expected it to be your neighbors who seemed to have a sex drive that rivaled any succubus or horned college teenager.

Ghoap x Neighbor! Reader

There is explicit smut in this chapter! 18+ content! I can’t emphasize the derange media ahead enough!

Tags: Smut, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, sex toys, butt plug, lingerie, double penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5 (final part!) | masterlist

You weren’t disappointed.

It’s not like you were expecting John and Simon to knock on your front door after the fact and carry you to your bedroom Cinderella-style. Fuck you into oblivion and become the new neighborhood disturbance.

But you also didn’t expect them to pretend as if nothing happened.

You saw them in the hallway and lobby, outside your apartment doors, but all they did was greet you. John gave you a bright smile and Simon a curt nod. Which wasn’t weird considering you were neighbors, but it was strange for them.

They had tormented you for weeks, took every opportunity they could to tease you, and make sexual comments to you at every turn.

And now they just stopped.

Stopped teasing you.

Stopped having loud sex across the wall.

You should’ve been grateful; you weren’t waken up to their loud moans or put in awkward situations that left your cheeks warm and your heart racing. Except you weren’t; they heard you moaning and knew that you were sexually interested in their invites after that night.

However, they did nothing, left you with dainty lingerie, a butt plug, and a burning reminder of the embarrassing way you had willingly let them hear your moans.

It was like they were waiting for you to make the first move, waiting for you to actually accept their invitation before it turned into something you regretted. As if now that you actually reciprocated it became more than flirtatious teasing. Stared at your ceiling for days, laid awake at night for reasons other than their loud moaning.

So begrudgingly, you took matters into your own hands. You don’t exactly know why you were waiting outside their apartment door.

Maybe it was the two glasses of wine you chugged coursing through your veins. Maybe it was because you hated not having their attention anymore. Curious to find out if all their insufferable noises were warranted.

But there you were: a long silk robe covering the matching set you wore under. Stupid skull butt plug pressed to your rim.

When Simon opened the door, you second-guessed every choice you’ve ever made. Swallowing thickly as he traced his eyes over your robe. Took all your courage to push past him, slip under his arm, and barge into their apartment. He closed the door behind you, moving to stand in front of you so you were closest to the door.

You don’t know if it was worse that he didn’t say any words, didn’t even call for John. Just stood there and peered down at you, eyes sharp as they ever were. It was silent, each gulp of saliva practically shattering off the walls, clenching and unclenching your fists nervously. Rocked side to side on your feet as the room became impossibly suffocating.

“Think you have somethin’ to show me.”

His voice was deep and controlled. Knew what was under the robe without having to ask, knew why you were standing in their apartment. Almost made you want to run away because he was too cocky for his own good. Like he had just been waiting patiently for your arrival as if he knew you would succumb to him eventually.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you untied the robe, letting it fall to the floor slowly, pooling at your feet. Left you standing in the pink babydoll he bought you, thong and thigh highs hardly covering any of your skin. You barely had the strength to find his gaze, watched him outline your figure hungrily, and take his time to examine every part of your body like he was mesmerized.

“Turn around.”

You hesitated slightly; it wouldn’t be too late to stop. You could leave now; neither of you would mention it again. Forget it ever happened because at least you calmed your nerves long enough to try, but the look in his eyes had you spinning in an instant.

Swallowing all your pride as you obeyed, facing the door as his figure approached. Could feel the ghost of his palms on your hips, his mouth above your ear. Goosebumps bursted along your shoulders where you could feel his breath.

“Show me.” Two taps on your left ass cheek.

You fluttered your eyes shut, leaning forward to bend your ass farther out. Spread yourself open with a shaking hand and presented the stupid butt plug to him in all its glory. Hummed lowly, approvingly, at the sight. Heard him take a step backwards to get a better view, enraptured by the sight.

It was hot. Unbearably hot.

Felt as if your skin was melting off, pooling on the floor with your robe and dignity. Sweat collecting on your skin almost causing your grip to slip. Heartbeat drowned out any other noise in your ears, but you could still hear everything. Could still hear his breaths, each creak of the floorboard, the TV playing in the other room.

You jolted forward in shock when his thumb pressed against the butt plug, pushing it forward slightly. Had you yelping out in surprise as he returned his head to your neck.

“Didn’t think you’d actually accept,” He drawled, “Should we show Johnny, huh?”

You nodded quickly. Despite how humiliating it would be to have two pairs of eyes on you, at least John was tolerable as a person. Wasn’t hidden behind a mask as you stood bare and open for them.

“Eager to answer,” He teased, fingers still pressed to the butt plug, had you shifting anxiously, “Seems you like being shown off.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate, irritation strumming your temples, but he spoke before you could, calling John from the other room. Though, it’s not like he would’ve listened to anything you had to say in the first place.

“Johnny, think our birdie came to give us a present.”

You could hear the sounds of his feet approaching, anxiety building in your chest with each new step. Let your hands fall from your ass, didn’t want him to see you with a butt plug buried in your ass as a first greeting.

“What are ya— steamin’ Jesus.”

You rested your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes tightly together in embarrassment.

“Go on.” Simon demanded, “Let him see.”

Your hands returned, presenting the plug once again with a huff of annoyance. Filling your lungs with shallow breaths as you felt incredibly bare under their stare. Mortified as your roles were reversed, half-naked in front of them when they were fully dressed— for the first time ever.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” John groaned, kneeling between your legs, incredibly close to your core.

You looked down at his face, his eyes focused, fixed on your hole. Wonder filled his irises as he drank it all in like you were heaven reincarnated. Couldn’t pry his eyes away if you tried. His reverence, the fact that he was so close, had you dropping your grip, burying your face in your arms, and pressing them against the door. Flustered from his proximity, hadn’t expected him to get on his knees.

A movement that had Simon tutting in disapproval. “Lass.”

“Nae, It’s alright, Si. Don’t worry lass, yeah?” John said, reassuring you softly, “Don’t gotta do anythin’ you don’t want.”

His hand cupped your right ass cheek, rough palms scratching your skin deliciously, “I can do it for you, yeah? Wanna see how pretty you are.”

Cup turned into a grip, squishing the swell of your ass in his grasp, and spread them apart. Fingers hovered over the butt plug, fear swelling in your throat as you anticipated his next move, couldn’t see what he was fucking doing.

Where Simon pushed, John pulled; slid the metal plug out just enough for your rim to catch on the bulb. Made you whine at the sensation, pushed to your tippy toes in shock.

“Sensitive little thing ain’t she?” John said, but he wasn’t saying it to you. He spoke the words to Simon, openly talking about you like you weren’t standing there like he wasn’t tugging on the plug in your ass.

Pulled on the metal until the bulb slid out with a wet pop, keeping the slender tip snug inside. You cried out, digging your fingers into the door, knuckles gone white. You had used the plug several more times since the first night, had gotten used to the feeling, but the fact that it was John, his larger fingers teasing your rim had your nerves alive. Burning every fiber in your body.

Pushed it back in to the hilt, had your already shaking legs almost buckling under you. Repeated the movements until your walls were quivering around the metal. Cherishing the sight of your greedy hole sucking it back in with each thrust, enjoyed toying with you for his own pleasure. Could hear his breath speed up the longer he played with your walls, cascading warm air over your hole.

John turned you around swiftly; for the first time the entire night, you two made eye contact, a warm smile on his lips as if he wasn’t just tormenting you. “Hi there.”

You chuckled softly, “Hi, John.”

He hummed, placing his hand out for you to take, slender fingers swallowed whole by his thick palms, “Let's get ya in the bedroom, yeah?”

You nodded and allowed him to guide you down the hallway, Simon’s figure looming behind you as he followed.

“You look bonnie,” John complimented, eyes sweet as ever, “Where’d ya get somethin’ like that?”

They sat you down on the bed, John standing in front of you, Simon against the wall, watching. Like they had done this before, knew where they belonged, falling into place like chess pieces.

You were sure they had done this before, but you weren’t sure if you were grateful or remorseful about that fact. They weren’t awkward, their confidence eased your nerves. If they were jittery, just as scared as you were, you probably wouldn’t be sitting on their bed, lace adorning your skin so willingly. Though you couldn’t help but feel a little tinge of jealousy knowing you weren’t the first woman they shared.

“Simon bought it for me.”

“Did he?” John chuckled, “Surprise tae me.”

He positioned himself between your thighs, resting his hands on your hips.

“Feel bad, would’ve shaved for you had I known.”

You snickered, thanking the gods above that John was here, so seamlessly confident. Playful demeanor put your racing heart at ease, diminishing the intensity of Simon’s presence.

“It’s okay,” You reassured, “I like your beard.”

“Do ya?”

“Uh huh,” You reached up, scratching under his chin, “Tickles.”

You gripped his chin, pinching the bone between your thumb and index finger, and pulled him closer. Hovered your lips over his, faint breaths flowing over your cheeks. You flickered your eyes to Simon’s dark figure, the whites of his eyes striking through yours. Possessive. Protective, but not over you. Of John, warning you.

Your focus dipped back to John, wetting your lips before leaning forward. Slotting them against his in a tease of a kiss. It was subtle, soft, testing the waters wearily as you slid your mouths together. Sweeter than you expected for a man of his stature. Contrasted the way you were just standing on their doorstep, fucking you with the butt plug.

The both of you separated, staring at each other for a mere second before he surged forward. Large palms cupping your jaw, pressed his lips against yours with the urgency you had imagined him to. Threw the sweet kiss away, forgotten and dull.

Devoured you whole.

Pushed you to your back before crawling over your frame, lips conjoined the entire time. Elbows on either side of your head, beard scratching against your chin. Sure it would leave a mark.

Hoped it would.

A reminder of the way he was kissing you like he intended to make your breaths his own. Keep you lightheaded enough that you would have no choice but to seek his lips, melt under his touch.

When he pulled away you almost whimpered, head embarrassingly following his lips. He chuckled, stopping your movements with a stiff hand on your shoulder.

“Be patient, love.”

Lips found your jaw, wandering hands scrunched the baby doll up, slipping under the material. His hands were cold on your warm flesh, had you taking a sharp breath between your teeth. Clinging to his shoulder as he sucked the flesh of your neck into his lips. Littered ghost of bites against your skin, softer than the marks that decorated Simon.

Determined hands explored your body, pinched and squeezed any fat he could get his grasp on. Greedy and hungry, like there wasn’t a part of you he wanted to leave untouched. Sliding lower, hooking the seams of your dress under your breasts. Pert buds revealed, hardening in the cold air. Capturing a nipple in his lips, suctioning around it harshly, made you arch into his mouth, moaning loudly into the quiet room.

The bed above you dipped, creaking as Simon crawled onto it. Banding his hands under your arms before hoisting you against his chest, leaned back against the bed frame. Clothes since stripped, cloth fabric of his boxers the only barrier between you and his hard cock. Practically had your eyes widening as it rubbed against your back, thick and long. Baffled by the size of him, wondering how you were going to fit any of him inside you.

John whined as your breast slipped from his mouth; Simon adjusted you so you rested between his thighs, palms on either side of your knees. The other man mirrors Simon’s actions, peeling the unnecessary layers of clothing off. Felt a bit of sadness that neither of them gave you adequate time to truly admire their frames. Had spent several occasions avoiding slipping your eyes lower, gawking at their brawn, and the one time it was appropriate, you couldn’t.

Simon separated your legs, left your barely covered cunt on display to John at the opposite end of the bed. Though as if this was his cue from Simon, he crawled across the bed like he was approaching his prey. Had your mouth drying nervously, squirming in Simon’s grasp in suspense. John rested flat between your thighs, running his hands over the lace of your stockings.

Simon’s bare lips pressed to your ear, balaclava shoved up so he could taste you, “Knew you’d look pretty in this.”

You whimpered at his words, laying your head on his shoulder. Low drone so close to your ear that it had your core tightening uncomfortably, could feel every vibration straight through your toes.

“Go on, Johnny. Give our birdie a reward for being so good for us,” His hand cupped your breasts, “Came over all pretty and dolled up for us.”

John hummed in agreement, pressing his lips to the insides of your thighs. Fluttering your eyes shut as he edged closer to your warmth. Compliments and praise from Simon, who was normally ordering you around, combined with John leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake, searing your sensitive flesh in bites and nibbles had your mind puddling.

It’s not like your breasts were that small, but Simon’s hands engulfed them whole, making them look tiny as he kneaded them between thick fingers. Not like you were a fucking virgin either, but John’s soft touches made you twitch. Had your pussy weeping like it had been touch starved and desperate for years.

Your legs snapped shut when John rubbed his thumb over your clothed cunt without warning, both of them clicking their tongues in their mouth disapprovingly. Had you whimpering at their disappointment, but it was overwhelming, suffocating, wrapped between them. Couldn’t catch a break when both of their hands were on your body, lips branding your skin in their saliva and markings. Trapped; nowhere for you to run.

When one stopped their ministrations, the other started, didn’t leave a second with you untouched. The sensations tenfold shared between a pair.

John forced your legs open with a sudden strength that left you speechless, digging his grip into your flesh so harshly it was going to bruise. Wanted it to bruise, so when this was all over, and you were alone in your room, you could press them, remember the way they peeled you apart layer by layer.

“Can’t tear these now, can we?” He remarked, a wolffish smirk on his lips.

“Don’t worry, we’ll just buy her a new set,” Simon responded, hated the way it made you want John to rip them. Split the fabric in two so you would have an excuse to find yourself between them again.

Gasped when he did.

Tore the lace right off your body, and threw it carelessly across the room. Shredded and insignificant on the floor just like your previous pair that got you in this situation in the first place. Couldn’t help but mourn the loss of another thong, even through what it promised.

Simon hooked your feet either side of his, legs bent in half as he forced you to display your bare pussy to John. You shrieked, hands flying down to cover yourself, but they didn’t allow you to hide for long. Simon pulled them away, tangling his fingers in yours. A motion that seemed too intimate for strangers, his larger hand enveloping yours.

“None of that.” Simon cooed, “Johnny’s a good boy; he’ll treat you well.”

You didn’t even have time to register his words, John’s thumb brushing a breath of stimulation to your clit. Buried your face in Simon’s neck, the arch slightly uncomfortable, but John made you forget about anything else. Had you breathing a hot moan against Simon’s skin as he stamped more pressure against the bead.

God, it was humiliating.

Spread between the two, both of them intently watching you, listening to you. Drank every reaction you gave them eagerly as you writhed under John’s fingers. Made your body ten times hotter, burning excruciatingly.

It was barely any stimulation, repeated rubs against your clit, but the situation alone had you particularly sensitive. Two pairs of eyes, two sets of hands, two mouths all for you. Dedicated to your pleasure made you more hypersensitive to every touch against your body.

You were pathetically close to finishing, clenching your fingers tightly around Simon’s as your core constricted. You didn’t want to finish, didn’t want them to tease you for orgasming so quickly— especially Simon’s cocky ass.

Until John slid lower, lower, lower, dipping his index finger into your pussy. Your breaths stuttered in your lungs, hiccuping over the air as you cried out. You knew they were bigger than you, but the width of his finger was still shocking. Even through all the slick you knew drenched your entrance, his finger faced resistance.

Your moans apparently weren’t good enough for them because John slid a second finger in after several thrusts. Simon wringing a hand free from your grip and pressed three fingers to your clit. That had you thrashing in their arms, John’s fingers fucking in and out of your walls. Stretched thin around his thick digits, curled against every ridge of your spongy flesh. Simon’s fingers swiped swiftly against your swollen clit, managing to match Johnny’s pace.

“Come on, doll,” Simon whispered, “Quit holdin’ it in. Want you to cum for us.”

You nodded your head frantically in his neck, brows furrowed as you clenched down around John’s fingers— humility be damned.

You didn’t care if they teased you, if it only made them that much more smug. Not when it felt so mind-numbingly good. Succumbed to the pleasure, washing away any of your concerns.

Snapping your hips down to bury John’s fingers deep within your walls before arching into Simon’s touch. Moaning broken chimes of their names as you came undone. Spasmed your walls around their fingers as they fucked you through it, pussy squelching wetly with each stroke, each drag of their fingers in your puffy walls. Both of their hands soaked in your cum.

They didn’t even give you time to be embarrassed; Simon cupped your jaw and tilted your head to pull your lips against his. Kissing you harsher than John did, whereas John’s was sweet and passionate. Simon’s was primal, aggressive. Bruising his lips against yours, didn’t give you room to breathe after an intense orgasm. Deliriously trying your best to reciprocate Simon’s movements.

John’s tongue replaced their fingers, lapping between your swollen folds eagerly. Made you cry out in shock, Simon taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth, swiping his tongue in your mouth possessively. Made you his as John’s tongue broke through your walls. Licked up all your cum, buried his nose against your pussy, and swallowed it all down as his. Stained his throat, tongue, and lips in your taste.

You were lightheaded, mind buzzing and numb, barely managed to move your lips against Simon’s. Both of their tongues pleasuring you at once, mewling into Simon’s mouth with each swipe of John’s tongue.

Simon slipped his fingers in your mouth, fingers that were drenched in your cum.

“Suck.”

So you did.

Eyes bleary as you tried your best to focus on his. Slurped your cum off his fingers and licked his digits clean. His eyes followed every movement, every lick, pupils dilating as he pushed them flat against your tongue. Whimpers vibrating his fingers as John suctioned his lips around your clit and sucked. Hard.

You were beginning to understand why you heard John crying through the wall so often. The tears were beading in your eyes before you realized, streaking down your cheeks as Simon moved his grip around your neck. John’s stimulation didn’t halt for a second, lapping at your pussy like it was fucking heaven on earth. Moaning happily between your thighs as he rutted his hips against the bed.

“Drove us crazy for months, you know that?”Simon spat out through clenched teeth, grip tightening around your neck, “Made me lose my mind when I saw you in my shirt. Wanted to fuck you against the door right then and there.”

You shook your head in his palms helplessly, couldn’t even respond if you wanted.

“Had to keep fuckin’ Johnny here because we couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you across the wall.” His voice was hoarse like he was fucking angry at you, “But you kept denyin’ our invitations.”

You mewled weakly, “W-Was scared.”

He chuckled, but it wasn’t anywhere near friendly. It was dark, had nerves spiking at your chest, but you didn’t even hear his response. Vision going white, arching painfully between the two of them, grinding against John’s face as you came on his tongue.

Screamed so loudly you didn’t recognize it as your own voice. Walls convulsed uncontrollably, legs shaking from the intensity. Hadn’t even known you were on the brink of a second orgasm. Never had a lover make you finish so quickly back to back.

They were rubbing their palms over your body, petting you tenderly as they repeated praises to you. Eyes heavy and half-lidded as they graciously let you catch your breath this time. Slowly drifting back down to reality, felt as if your last orgasm was ripped straight from your core. Legs still shaking. Hips rutting sporadically through the comedown.

John’s lips glimmered in your cum, smeared down his chin as he sat back up. Simon switched his grip from your throat to John’s, pulling him harshly to his lips. Watched as Simon licked into John’s mouth ravenously, flicked his tongue over his lips and down his chin. Cleaned all your cum from his face. Had your core fluttering, mind blanking as you watched them swap your cum, like neither of them could get enough.

Your fingers tugged on John’s shirt, whining quietly at the sight, wanted them to kiss you too.

John pulled away as much as Simon’s tight grip on his chin would allow, smirking knowingly at you caught between their chest, “Gettin’ jealous, Bonnie?”

You shook your head weakly, not convincing anyone in the room as you tugged at John’s shoulder this time.

“Needy little thing.”

Simon’s grip loosened on John, allowing him to lean in to capture your lips. Could taste your expense on his tongue, moaning tiredly and softly into his mouth. Though Simon seemed just as desperate to kiss you, pulled you away from John to smash his mouth against yours.

Spent god knows how long like that, both of them fighting over your lips, pressing into Simon’s smaller mouth as he pinched and bit at yours harshly just to be pulled into John’s plump lips, sucking and licking at your swollen lips to ease Simon’s torment.

Pushing them together every time you became too lightheaded, every time your mind began to whirl, dizzy, and drunk off their kisses, off your previous orgasms. Watched them make out with each other as you regulated your breath.

“Jesus, yer fuckin’ perfect,” John groaned as you pushed them apart again, swiping your lips against his as he pulled you into his lap.

Simon brushed his palms down your back, exploring lower until his fingers nudged at the butt plug. Whimpered into Johnny’s mouth as Simon pulled it completely out, excess lube dripping out of your hole. Had Simon cursing under his breath at the sight, pushing his index finger slowly into your loosened walls.

You had anticipated this moment since he gave you the butt plug and had tried your best to stretch yourself with your fingers and toy in preparation for the burn. The first finger, despite how fucking thick it was, didn’t hurt. Walls already accustomed to a slight girth.

Simon seemed to enjoy this fact; impatiently pressed a second finger to your rim to test the stretch. Your walls gave away to the intrusion easily, burrowed to the knuckle. Buried your face into John’s neck as you clung onto his shoulders tightly.

Simon leaned his forehead onto your back, groaning as he slowly began a rhythm, dragging his fingers against your sensitive flesh, “Bloody fuckin— you’re tight, birdie.”

You mewled into Johnny’s skin, “T-Tried to stretch myself out as much as I could.”

This had both men tightening their hold on you, digging their fingers into your flesh harshly, “Yeah, Bonnie? Stretched yourself nice an’ pretty fo’ us?”

You nodded earnestly, canting your hips back down onto Simon’s fingers, “Wanted to be ready for you two.”

Simon bullied a third finger in at that, John taking your lips in his aggressively like all their restraint slipped through their control from your confession. Hand snaking between your legs to rub at your clit, both of them sharing your mouth, taking turns taking your breath as their own. Rambling your praises when their lips weren’t on yours, as Simon stretched your walls loose and lax.

They turned you around so you faced Simon, hoisting you into both of their laps when Simon deemed you stretched out enough. Snickering at the apprehension on your face, the way your body tensed under their touch when both of their cocks sprung free.

It was Johnny’s turn to press his lips against your ear, “If it’s too much we’ll stop. Won’t do anythin’ you don’t want to, okay?”

You nodded wearily, arching your head as far back as you could to find his eyes. Didn’t think you had it in you to look in Simon’s, not when they were so sharp, had the hair standing on your neck. Needed the warmth in Johnny’s to regulate the tension burning your throat.

“Don’t worry,” John whispered, flickering his eyes to Simon like you two were sharing a secret, “He won’t eat ya; I won’t let him.”

You chuckled, the stress in your body dissolving at his words.

“Si’s gonna go first, okay?” He continued, “Then when ya tell us you’re ready, I’ll try.”

“Okay.”

Simon lifted you to your knees, pressing the fat of his cockhead against your pussy. Choked on your breath as he broke through your walls. Slowly pulling you back down into his lap until your ass rested against his hips. You jolted forward once he bottomed out, digging your nails into the muscles on his shoulders because fuck, was he massive.

Filled you out in ways you never thought possible. Gasping for breath as you felt him in your stomach snug against your cervix. Couldn’t even breathe, each time you gulped air your stomach clenched, squeezed him tightly between your walls.

“F-Fuck, doll,” He gritted through clenched teeth, banding his arm around your waist, “Gonna need you to relax.”

You whined high-pitched, stumbling through your words, “T-Trying to, but you’re too fucking big.”

Dug your teeth into his skin as he began a slow grind, rutting his hips against yours gently. Until you were gyrating back, fucking yourself onto his shaft, matching his motions as a signal. Showing him that you were ready for more.

“There we go,” Simon hummed, tightening his grip on your waist, “Just like that.”

Lifted you to the tip, had your eyes widening because you didn’t mean that much more, “Simon, wait. No, I can’t-“

But he was dropping you back down anyway, ass smacking against his thighs. You practically cried out, felt as if he punched right through your walls. Squeezing your thighs around his hips as if to stop him from doing it again. Though it was no use, ignored your protests as he lifted you over his shaft before slamming you back down on his cock.

“Yes, you can,” He tutted, “And you will.”

Another one of his demands. Uttered harsh and direct. Made you want to listen to him, please him.

So, you did, let him guide you on his dick. Bullied his length into your puffy walls, made you take it, moaning wet and hot into his neck. Pressed open-mouthed to his skin as you keened out with each thrust. Had your pussy squelching loudly around him, drenching him in so much fluid that he practically slipped in and out.

Made you so fucked out and delirious, clinging to him like he was your last lifeline that you barely noticed Johnny’s head pressed to your ass. Almost forgot that he was even there in the first place in your Simon-infused daze. Pushed the tip in slowly, tensing around it as it had your vision blurring.

“John, oh— fuck, I—,” You babbled pathetically, couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t even form a complete sentence as he plunged deeper.

Tears burned your cheeks as he bottomed out, hiccuping over your breaths as you heard your heartbeat pulse in your ears. Both of them pressed praises to your skin, but you couldn’t even understand what they were saying. Too full to think about anything else, to feel anything else but fucking stuffed. Like you were being torn in fucking two on their dicks.

“You’re okay,” Simon said, reassuring tone surprising from how he usually snapped at you, “We got you. You can take it, pretty girl. So good for us, spread so well around us.”

His fingers were on your clit, brushing against it slowly with each word, Johnny’s lips on your neck, sucking hard marks on your unblemished skin. Distracting you from the pain radiating your body.

Simon’s grip on your thighs, Johnny on your breasts. Or maybe it was the other way around, you couldn’t tell, couldn’t fucking care. Every sense overwhelmed as you rutted your hips against them. Had them both cursing loudly as you fucked yourself frantically back down on their cocks. Desperate for the burning sting to disappear, needed it to melt away into pleasure.

Your mind was buzzing, blank, static, numb. Everything and nothing at once. Couldn’t do anything else but move your hips and paw powerlessly at Simon’s chest. Pant moist into their necks, bodies slipping on each other with your sweat.

Until they took over for you, held you in place as they slammed into you in sync. Bottomed out at the same time, made your body swell with their fat cocks. Had no choice but to let them use you, lolling helplessly between them.

John banded his arm around your abdomen and pressed his palm against your core, making the pressure from Simon’s thrust more intense.

“Can fuckin’ feel you inside her, Si.”

“Yeah?” Simon breathed, leaning forward to bruise his lips against the other man’s, but managed to keep their pace despite it all, “How does she feel? Tell me, Johnny.”

“So fuckin’ warm,” John groaned, voice gruff like he was slowly losing control, “Squeezin’ the life outta me.”

“She’s takin’ us so well, ain’t she, Johnny?” Simon grunted, watching you try your best to meet their thrusts, “So desperate and pretty for more.”

“Simon, I’m gonna cum soon,” John said, hips stuttering inside your walls.

“No. She’s going to finish first.” Simon commanded, gripping John’s hip tightly to make him continue his onslaught.

They pistoned their hips faster, fucking into you with all their might. Breath punched straight out of your lungs. Pain dissipated into complete bliss, clenching your walls around them as if to keep them inside you. Felt so full you were afraid you were constantly going to feel empty now. Only feel complete once they were both stuffing you with their cocks.

Fucking you so rough you didn’t know where John started and Simon ended. Didn’t know what hands were on your hips, on your jaw, squishing your ass, pinching your nipples. Didn’t know whose mouth was on your neck, whose was on your mouth, suffocating you completely with them. Felt as if you were fusing as one, your breaths and overstimulated walls theirs, their saliva and praises yours.

“Simon, John. Gonna, gonna cum,” You croaked, every nerve in your body ripped to shreds, both of them forcing you to morph your body to them, “P-Please, so close.”

“Please, lass,” John gritted, “One more time, yeah? Give us one more.”

You were sobbing, choking on your tears as you came so hard your voice was torn from your throat. Gaping at the ceiling as you threw your head back on John’s shoulder. Tightening around them with such a strong grip they could barely move. Tried to fuck you through it the best you would allow.

You couldn’t even remember the next few seconds, body going completely limp as John came inside your ass, buried to the hilt as he filled you to the brim. Pulsating walls coaxing his cum out of him, swollen flesh fluttering around him, taking each drop with eager acceptance.

Thrashing as they continued to thrust in your walls, John fucking his cum into your ass. Strokes stuttered and broken from the overstimulation, not quite managing to match Simon’s thrusts anymore. But Simon didn’t force him to for much longer, buried himself deep within your pussy, and came with a feral groan. Pumped ropes in your puffy walls, pulsating balls pressed to your ass and cunt as they both emptied their desires inside you.

You were limp, collapsing onto Simon’s chest as every muscle in your body tensed. Convulsed. Rippled. Shaking as you came down from three orgasms, tears streaming down your face as your body was spent. Exhausted, worn out, and overused. However, your veins were drowning every painful sensation away, tingling and washed away to bliss.

Both of their hands were petting you, once again cooing praises and soft words into your skin. Wiping your tears away, kissing and licking the salty beads of your sweat and tears clean. Warning you before they slid out of your walls, their cum dripping down your legs. Left you painfully empty, almost made you sob harder at the lack of pressure inside you.

They didn’t leave you alone for long, running you a warm bath before carrying you to their bathroom. Johnny joined you, somehow the both of you fitting into the tub like puzzle pieces. Simon sat on the counter, watching the two of you.

The warm water soothed the ache slowly beginning to build in your limbs and muscles. Knew you were going to be agonizingly sore in a few hours, probably barely be able to move or pee for that matter, but you didn’t even mind, it would be worth it all.

“Were we too rough, Bonnie?” Johnny asked, palms brushing up your arms and shoulders.

Flesh that was bruised and stained in their hickeys. Red splotches, teeth marks, and purple bruises adorning every piece of skin you could see.

You shook your head, voice coming out hoarse and scratchy, “No, no. Felt amazing; don’t think I’ll be able to do a round two anytime soon, though.”

Both men chuckled, “Well, we owe you a new pair of panties anyway, don’t we?”

The set they bought you, thigh highs and all torn and stained in all your fluids. Ruined and destroyed on their bedroom floor, but you didn’t even care. Pleased to know that whatever it was between the three of you wouldn’t end there.

Tag list: @avatar-lover @cheese-pull @entityunbound @theheartcollecter @leon-thot-kennedy @yunho-leeknow @star-buck-barnes @bluebarrybubblez @codeseven @other-fandoms-reblogs

Thank you for all the love & support everyone has given me for this fic! I’m so happy you guys have liked it thus far! 🩷🍒🎀

Cross posted in my ao3 here!

[acklesarchives]

He’s your bf headcanons - Dean W

Dean Winchester x gn!reader

There aren’t any content warnings so everyone can enjoy <3

Headcanons and scenarios based on Dean being your boyfriend

Word count ; 997

── .✦ Protective to a Fault

⟢ Dean is intensely protective, and yeah, a lot of that comes from the life he leads. If you’re a hunter, he insists on watching your back, always putting himself between you and danger. If you’re not, then good luck ever getting him to let you out of his sight when things get even remotely suspicious.

⟢ But it’s not just about monsters and demons—it’s in the little things, too. The way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, the way his hand finds the small of your back in a crowded bar, the way he instinctively reaches for you in his sleep, even when he’s dead tired. He won’t always say he’s worried about you, but it’s in the way he brings you an extra layer when it’s cold, in the way he subtly checks you over after a hunt, his fingers ghosting over your skin like he’s making sure you’re still in one piece.

⟢ “You get hurt, and I swear—” he grumbles, shaking his head. But the way his fingers tighten around yours tells you the rest of what he won’t say out loud.

── .✦ Physical Affection Is His Love language

⟢ Dean pretends he’s the tough guy, all gruff and distant, but in reality? He’s touchy. And he doesn’t even realize it most of the time. He pulls you into his side when you’re standing next to him, rests his hand on your knee when he’s driving, absently plays with your fingers when you’re sitting together in the bunker. When he kisses you, he does it like he means it—deep, slow, like he’s memorizing the way you taste.

⟢ And after a long day? He won’t say he needs to hold you, but you’ll feel it in the way he tugs you into his arms, letting out a long breath as his chin rests against the top of your head. It’s how he grounds himself—reminding himself you’re here, safe, his.

── .✦ He Loves to Make You Laugh

⟢ Dean thrives on making you laugh. He’ll do the dumbest impressions, tell the worst dad jokes, even break out ridiculous dance moves just to see you crack a smile. If you’re upset, he’s all sarcastic quips and exaggerated antics, nudging you until you roll your eyes and finally let out a little laugh. And when you do? He grins like he just won the lottery.

⟢ “See? That’s the face I like. Much better, sweetheart.”

── .✦ Cooking for You Is One of His Biggest Love Languages

⟢ Dean Winchester might not be the most eloquent guy when it comes to feelings, but he sure as hell knows how to put love into a plate of food. He loves cooking for you—whether it’s a greasy diner-style breakfast with extra bacon or a late-night burger when you’re too exhausted to eat anything else. And if you compliment his cooking? Oh, he preens.

⟢ “Damn right, baby, best cook you’ve ever had.”

⟢ That being said, expect him to be extremely opinionated about what qualifies as “real food.” If you bring home something remotely healthy, he just squints at it like it personally insulted him.

⟢ “What even is that? Kale? That’s rabbit food, sweetheart. You’re killin’ me.”

── .✦ His Jealousy Is Subtle, but It’s There

⟢ Dean’s the type of guy who trusts you—he’s not about to smother you or get insecure over nothing. But if someone’s too friendly with you? Oh, you’ll see the shift. His jaw sets, his arm finds its way around your waist, and his voice drops just a little lower. He won’t cause a scene, but the way he stares at the guy who won’t stop flirting with you? Yeah. It’s a warning.

⟢ And later, when you’re alone? He won’t admit he was jealous, but he’ll tug you onto his lap, kiss you slow and deep, and mutter, “Just makin’ sure you know who you belong to, sweetheart.”

── .✦ He’s a Wreck When It Comes to Losing You

⟢ Dean is terrified of losing the people he loves. He’s been through too much, lost too many, and the idea of something happening to you? It eats at him. He hides it well—makes jokes, pretends he’s got it under control—but when you’re hurt? That’s when the mask slips.

⟢ “Damn it, sweetheart—what were you thinking? You could’ve—” He stops himself, running a hand over his face, exhaling hard. Then he pulls you into his chest, his heartbeat fast and uneven. “Just… don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

── .✦ He Loves Falling Asleep with You

⟢ Dean’s never been the type to be good at sleeping. Too many nightmares, too many nights spent on the road, gun under his pillow, waiting for something to go wrong. But you? You make it easier. When you’re curled up beside him, tucked against his chest, his arm slung over your waist—it’s the closest thing to peace he’s had in years.

⟢ And if he wakes up in the middle of the night, restless? He just reaches for you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin, grounding himself in the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

── .✦ He’s Lowkey the Best Boyfriend Ever, Even If He Won’t Admit It

⟢ Dean Winchester will never call himself a romantic. He’ll roll his eyes if you say it. But the truth is? He is. He just doesn’t realize it. It’s in the way he remembers exactly how you like your coffee. In the way he brings you back little trinkets from cases because they reminded him of you. In the way he sings to you—badly, and usually off-key—when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

⟢ He’s not good at talking about feelings, but he shows them in every little thing he does.

⟢ And when you finally tell him, “You know you’re actually the best boyfriend ever, right?”—he just huffs, shaking his head with a smirk.

⟢ “Damn right I am. Took you long enough to notice, sweetheart.”

First headcanon post!!! Also I’m just going to be tagging all of my mutuals so if you don’t want to be tagged in my posts please please let me know!! I don’t want to be that person LMFAO

Tags : @daylighted @sunsettsam @clairiecidal @deerainy @emeraldcrs @deanangel @s4wdvator @morganwrites12672 @bluemerakis @bohemianblasphemy @velvetdandeli0n @sunsbaby @deanswidow @cherrygirlfriend @angelackless @figthoughts @deansbbyx @vmiina @deanspookiebear @aambearr @deansmisha @star-yawnznn @soldiersgirl

[copilot-crashout]

hii!! >w< may i request anti-tulpar au mouthwashing characters x gender neutral reader hcs? (both sfw and/or nsfw hcs? honestly i don’t mind if you leave out the nsfw part, sfw hcs are just fine! ^^) i haven’t seen a lot of anti-tulpar content and i love the au smmmm! your work is also so good omgg >w<

Pairing: Anti!Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: There are NSFW HCs here! It's my first time writing anything NSFW. Please keep that in mind!! ( -᷄ _ -᷅ ; ) Also, there are mentions of stalking Jimmy + blood kink for him. Misogynistic ideology on Curly's part.

[A/N]: I love anti!Tulpar so much... They're so interesting to me!! ˶ ˊ ᵕ ˋ ˶ Since both of these asks were similar, I decided to combine them... If @livvizible wants Anti!Curly separately, please ask me again!! ᕦ(˵•̀ᴥ•́˵)ᕤ

In other news, if people want to talk to me more personally, I'd be happy to make another blog/give my other socials. Just let me know~!

[SFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He runs a tight ship, nothing gets past his eyes. Whatever orders he barks out, he expects to be followed. His ship is one set by law and order, and yet you seem to be the only exception. You're the only one he could consider his equal, after all.

-> This guy thrives off PDA. He'd be happy to make out with you in front of the rest of the crew, so long as they know who you belong to. He always keeps a hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him when he's focused on his work and when he wants to distract you. His pride still hits you, but rather than being worked like a dog, he drags you out of it, only to chuckle at how easy it was to distract you.

-> Speaking of work, he'd be happy to let you into the cockpit, so long as you finished your assigned tasks for the day. While he wouldn't normally be one for too much affection while piloting the ship, he'd be happy to let you sit in his lap while he worked. He rests his head on your shoulder as he stares at the screen before him, keeping an eye on where they are heading.

-> Please make sure he doesn't work himself to the bone. If you bring him some snacks or a drink and keep him company, he'll thrive off it more than he can say. He still yearns for aspects of domestic life, the peacefulness foreign to him, but a welcome unknown, nonetheless.

-> Loves to give gifts. This man has expensive taste, and he's sure to show that to you with the gifts he gets you. You're a reflection of him. If he wants to maintain his image, you need to be in top shape, too. That's the excuse he gives, at least, when instead of a brand new set of clothes, he settles for giving you a massage, his tough hands working the knots in your back, eyes drilling into you with a focused glare.

[NSFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He's a certified freak. You've probably had sex in most of the rooms. His dick throbs at the idea of someone catching you two while you fuck, as if it's the equivalent of marking you as his. Though most rounds are usually quickies, he doesn't have time for long, drawn-out nights. That, and it makes him feel too vulnerable to have soft, vanilla sex.

-> The Captain is known to smoke cigars. He's more than happy to extinguish them on your body. During work hours, it's a press onto the back of your hand, the heat burning the skin to leave a mark that would heal within a few days. During sex, he grins as he watches your body flinch at the sudden heat pressed onto your back, leaving a mark only he can see.

-> He's not one to ever bottom. His belief in masculinity makes him near-inflexible in the bedroom. Giving up control in any sense of the word is too effeminate for him even worse when it's voluntary. He's a man; He shouldn't be the one whimpering or begging for mercy. Instead, he fucks you raw. His favourite position is doggy style (trust). He's pulling your hair; forcing you into a sloppy kiss as he fucks you senseless.

-> Mirror sex with him is so attractive. He wants you to see the power he lords over you, how dishevelled you look in front of your superior. He can't help but admire how captivating you are, back arched and whining for more, a steady thrum of power coursing through his veins. He knows he's the only one to make you feel that good, and he certainly won't stop.

[SFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> He's surprised you even wanted to date someone like him. Jimmy can only see himself as the dirt beneath your shoe. He barely deserves to be seen, especially by you, but he's ecstatic when you give him the time of day. Jimmy's better described as your loyal worshipper rather than a lover.

-> Jimmy finds himself too excited at the prospect of standing next to you. He's giddy, grinning like a schoolgirl for having the luxury of breathing the same air as you. His devotion to you is unwavering.

-> He faces relentless bullying from the other crew members becoming the designated doormat of the ship. He's embarrassed about it. Not because of his treatment. No, no. His fears are about how they reflect on you, his sweet darling. Is he unsightly to you? He isn't a strong man, he'd understand if you treated him the same too. He deserved it.

-> You're too good for the ship. You shouldn't be working a blue-collar, dead-end job like this. How about you leave it all to him. You won't even have to lift a single pretty finger. Just acknowledge him, and he'll be yours forever. He'd work himself to the bone so long as you smiled at him.

-> If you asked for anything, he would do his best to fulfil it! Need a drink? He could prepare coffee better than that simple vending machine. He knows your taste. Tired? He'll be your loyal assistant, trailing you more like a lost puppy as he asks you to bark orders at him!

-> Jimmy uses his role to his advantage. He's just the janitor, so he needs to be in your room to clean in, silly! He'll leave small gifts in places only you or he would ever see. A small necklace in your cupboard drawer, notes professing their adoration on your mirror. He wants you to know how much you mean to him! If you notice a pencil missing here or a glove missing there, he can only give you a small pout and a promise to look out for it while he's cleaning.

-> He's red-faced and stuttering whenever you make any contact with him, eyes focused on anything but you. Jimmy could just faint then and there when you kissed his cheek for the first time. He barely initiated any contact at the beginning of your relationship, still believing it couldn't be true. Jimmy was sure it was just a dare from Anya. Eventually, he warms up to it, happy to hold you for as long as you'd like, the caveat being it would be in private rather than anything the others could see.

-> He memorises your schedule. That's not creepy, is it? If you see him more often while working, he gives you a bright grin, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he lets you get on with your work, lest you want Captain Curly to yell you into tears. Your relationship is quiet but finds itself weaved into the mundanity of the ship. Its presence is a lingering feeling of warmth rather than any outstanding proclamation of true love.

[NSFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> Worship, worship, worship. It goes both ways, honestly. He leaves small kisses across your body, misty-eyed as he thanks you, thanks whatever God there is that you somehow find worth in him. Even if you were using him, it would be okay. You see him. If you praised him, he'd break into tears, soft sobs as your gentle hands trail over his scar-littered body (some from little cuts on the job, others from "accidents" he experienced in his life). He's never felt so happy. It's as close to heaven as he'll ever get to.

-> He's a sucker for any position where he can see your face. He needs reassurance from you to see you enjoying your time together. It's soft and romantic, something he didn't think he'd ever be able to experience.

-> He's not loud in bed by any means (at least when he tops). The most you hear are soft whines while he ruts into you hard or a breathy moan when he cums. If he bottoms, it's a whole different story. He feels totally ashamed, but it's mixed in with such pleasure that his whole self is thrown off. He lets out loud moans, trying to silence himself with his own hand. If you pull his hand away, he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid to see your reaction when he's begging for more.

-> You are his top priority. Anything you want, he'll give you. Nothing is off the table for him, so long as it's what you want. Feel free to get as freaky as you want with him, he'll allow it (and at some point finds himself enjoying it, too).

-> As soft as he is, I think Jimmy has a pretty strong sadistic streak. Definitely has a blood kink, honestly. There's something utterly depraved, hauntingly infatuating in giving him the power to wound yourself and him, pressing them together to stare as the blood spills over, intertwining the very essence of yourselves. Unsanitary and could probably cause infections? Yeah. Is it hot? Absolutely.

-> Following this train of thought, he has it in him to snap and go rough. Once in a blue moon, when tensions are too high and you've been ignoring him for a moment too long, he'll grab your wrist harshly and pull you into an abandoned room, whispering how much he hates it when you ignore him. He'll find ways for you to keep your eyes on him, even if it means a rough fuck where anyone can walk in.

[SFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He's very cat-like. Whenever he's free from work, he'll go out of his way to find you, only to start complaining at how much of a task it was to find you. Yet, he still stays. Watching as you work, waiting until you're finished so all your attention can be devoted to him.

-> You're co-workers first, and lovers second. He worked hard to get his job here and would rather be caught dead than be seen as 'unprofessional.' Daisuke initiating any kind of affection is left strictly behind closed doors. The same doesn't have to apply to you.

-> If you surprise him with any kind of affection in public, he'll grumble, yet won't push you off. His excuse? You'd only get more clingy if he denies you attention now. Just don't mention how he relaxed at your touch, face softening a fraction by your company or else he'll push you off and storm off to the opposite side of the ship.

-> Another character for gifts. An actuary gets paid well, and he's got the things he needs. Might as well spend it on you. He'd never mention the way his heart skips when he sees your face light up at his surprise gift - no matter how expensive it was.

-> He's still one to play games, though! He knows all the cheat codes and he's a total completionist - a perfectionist in every sense of the word. Daisuke would be more than happy to let you play but would be even more ecstatic if you watched him play in the privacy of his room.

[NSFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He bottoms, most if not all the time. He's just so stressed. He works so hard. What's a better way to unwind than spending time with his beloved?

-> He lets out breathy moans whenever you suck him off. Daisuke isn't one for roughness, as much as he tries to say otherwise. He's not the type to be extremely loud. The most you hear is a quiet "fuck..." from him, or a small whine.

-> Fan of mutual masturbation. He wants to know everything about you. That, and he enjoys watching your eyes flicker from his face down to his hand stroking his own cock. If Daisuke is in a good mood, he might make small comments, most being rhetorical questions about how you ever felt good without him.

-> There are so few headcanons for him NSFW-wise as I don't think he has much of a libido, honestly. It's unlike Tulpar!Daisuke where it's through the roof. He's happy to accommodate your needs, otherwise it's not something he thinks about.

[SFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> She's prideful, and she's not afraid to show it. By extension, you should be just as confident. Anya is your biggest hype girl. No matter what you do on the ship, she's there with a wide grin, ruffling your hair with a compliment.

-> As the mechanic, she's strong. You'll find yourself off the ground at random points of the day, Anya throwing you over her shoulder and sauntering off to god knows where. She'll never ask for your attention, only pulling stunts like these because she deserves it, obviously.

-> She wants you to praise her, too. Anya shows off around you, talking to you about a difficult task she was able to solve, or how even the Captain had to call her over to sort something out in the cockpit. She preens whenever she hears you comment on a job well done, brushing it off with a "Well, it was simple."

-> The girl is your biggest defender. If Daisuke gets too snappy with you, or the Captain is ripping you a new one, Anya will intervene with no remorse. She's happy to send them an irritated glare, pushing you behind her as she complains about how they even have the time to complain in the first place.

-> Playful ribbing with her is a must. You won't have a day with Anya where she doesn't poke fun at you (lovingly). If you tease back, she makes it a competition. Curly's exasperated when he pulls you two out of the third fake fight of the week.

[NSFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> Her sole focus is on you. She knows she's great in bed and she'll prove it.

-> A fan of anything oral, especially as foreplay. Her grin only widens when you're on your third orgasm of the night, begging her to slow down when she hasn't even gotten to the main show yet. If you gave her oral, she's clinging to your hair, her other hand clutching the bedsheet with a knuckle-white grip.

-> She's a huge fan of contact. Her hands are trailing any part of you that's not covered, poking and petting to see your reaction. She gets a massive kick out of it if you're especially ticklish. Even during sex, she'll find a way to make you giggle.

-> Another one for exhibitionism, except worse. She's happy to use any toy on you, so long as she holds onto the remote. Anya stands in the kitchen, eyes focused on you trying to keep your composure.

-> On particularly stressful days, she'll let you top and God's is she loud. She can only flush red when you slap your own hand over her mouth, desperately whining and bucking her hips into whatever touch you give her, her usual pride shattered.

[SFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> The kindest man on the ship, by far. You're everything he could've dreamed of. Daisuke rolls his eyes whenever he sees you together, grumbling about the jobs you were both forgetting about.

-> He's an old soul, and by extension has more traditional ideas of romance. His favourite thing to do is to wake you up with breakfast in bed, watching you get accustomed to being back in the land of the living, setting a tray of food in front of you.

-> The domestic life is pure bliss for him. It's hard on a ship with such extreme characters, but the kitchen becomes a second home to both of you. The others don't seem to care much for it – bar Jimmy who has to clean it every so often – meaning you two can spend quiet time together.

-> He'll teach you his recipes! He's happily waltzing around the kitchen, keeping an eye on you (and the food) as he tells you the common mistakes people make when cooking.

-> Shockingly good at reading any mood. You won't even have to tell him you're feeling sad, as he's already lending you a hand wherever you need it.

[NSFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> Another lover boy. This time, it's even more romantic.

-> Sucker for plain, vanilla sex. I don't think he could do many rounds at once, either. He's not in his prime anymore (and feels quite bad about it). He loves you though, and tries his best to meet your needs. Expect lots of foreplay. Your pleasure comes before his own, time and time again.

-> Swansea is more than happy to give you oral for hours. He still wants you to feel satisfied, even with his less-than-stellar stamina. You're the best thing he's tasted, perhaps better than his cooking!

-> With that, I think he'd be a fan of overstimulating you. He's happy to know you feel good, and wants you to feel your best! Swansea is more than delighted to make you cum over and over again, even before having penetrative sex.

-> He's good with his hands, too. This old man was able to rack up a lot of experience, you know.

-> If you're someone with a high sex drive, he'll do his best to meet your needs. Don't mind the flush on his cheeks, he's just not used to it. Same with people who are into more intense kinks - he's happy to please but you might have to guide him.

-> However, harming you is a no-go for him. Degradation is something he's hesitant about and outright violent kinks are ones he wouldn't go so far in exploring.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

♡ 💋Pick a Picture: ♡₊˚💋 Which Bratz you embody?💋♡₊˚

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💋Masterlist💋 💋Masterlist 2💋

🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️Pile 1: Chloe

Hi Pile 1! I feel like you're probably someone who always sees the glass half full, even when things aren't going as expected. You're someone who brightens other people's days with your positive energy and your bright outlook on the world. Like Chloe, your personality reflects a warm light; there's a softness in you. You have a natural way of making others feel good because your enthusiasm is genuine, and it shows. I feel like sometimes your dreams may seem a little too big or unattainable, but that doesn't hold you back. You know that, with determination and a positive attitude, you can achieve whatever you set your mind to. Even when you face difficulties, you never lose hope that everything will get better. That belief that things will turn out okay is one of your greatest strengths. You're the kind of person who can make others see the good in any situation, and nothing stops you when you set your mind to something. Falling doesn't define you; You're always ready to get up and keep going with a smile <3.

You're that friend who always has words of encouragement, who encourages you to keep fighting, and who reminds you that good things are yet to come. If you ever feel a little lost or stuck in a rut, just take a moment to think about what you're truly passionate about, because you know that what you dream is possible, and you always have the strength to keep going.

🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️Pile 2: Jade

Hi pile 2! I LOVE YOUR ENERGY btw, you're the kind of person who isn't afraid to be authentic, even if it means standing out from others. You're always looking for new ways to express yourself, whether it's through your style (which can be pretty amazing btw, fashion icon), your projects, or even the conversations you have. You don't settle for what's "normal"; you like to push the boundaries, break boundaries, and do things your way. That's something that makes you incredibly special. You're very independent and don't easily get swayed by what others think. You know what you like, and when you're passionate about something, you go for it without hesitation. While some people may see that as bold or even a bit risky, you aren't afraid to be brave. In fact, you enjoy it. You love exploring new horizons and don't mind if you don't fit into traditional molds. Being different is part of what makes you so authentic. Sometimes, the people around you don't fully understand your way of thinking, but that doesn't stop you. You have a unique outlook on life, and that perspective is something others can admire, even if they don't always fully understand it. At the end of the day, what really matters is that you're true to yourself, and that's something that sets you apart. Your creativity and energy are contagious, and people lucky enough to know you know that when you're around, the world looks a little brighter.

🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️Pile 3: Sasha

Hi, Pile 3! You're someone with very strong energy, like the energy is insane as I channel your messages. You're that person who isn't afraid to be authentic and challenge the norms when necessary. Life has never seemed like a straight and easy path to you; you love taking control and deciding for yourself, even if it means going against what others expect of you. You're a person with character, and it shows in everything you do. You have a strong sense of justice and know what's right. If something doesn't seem fair to you, you speak up, you fight, and you make sure things change. You don't mind standing up for what's right, even if it means being in the eye of the storm. You have an incredible ability to stand firm in what you believe in, and that makes you a natural leader, someone who knows how to make difficult decisions without hesitation. Sometimes people may not understand why you make certain choices, or they may feel threatened by your confidence. But you, like Sasha, know that you can't please everyone, and you don't try. You know that the people who truly matter will respect your honesty and determination, even if they don't always agree with you. What a boss you are, pile 3!

You're the kind of person who pushes your friends to be better, to take risks, and to never settle for what's easy. What makes you special is your ability to be true to yourself, to fight for what you believe in, and to be a leader who inspires more than just guides. People follow you because they know you're someone they can trust, someone who will never give up, no matter what.

🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️

[astars-things]

Helloo ur Hughes x Lando Norris is so good can u maybe do like one where there are all at the Lake house (with her family) and it’s just like fluffy and cute? Idkk anyways byeee

Y/n Hughes x Lando Norris

1.9k words hope you all like it

Why did we agree to this? You thought to yourself as you boarded the plane at 3 am in Monaco to fly to Michigan to enjoy two weeks off with Lando and your family, you wore a pair of sweatpants with a quadrant hoodie and some slippers, while Lando wore a quadrant set, you both went for comfort over style. You both had a 14-hour-plus travel day. 

It was 5 pm when the plane finally touched down, Lando grabbed both of your carry-ons without hesitation, and interlocked your hands, making your way to baggage claim the two of you navigated your way through the crowded terminal toward baggage claim, picking up your duffel bags that were filled to the brim, and making your way to security. 

Lando had gone full Lando this trip, insisting on having one of his McLarens shipped over weeks in advance, because he hated not being the one in control of the car, and also, you were told by the head of admin to get some content for the McLarens' Instagram page, So it was a win-win situation 

Once the car was filled, Lando and you made your way to the lake house, which was an hour drive considering you both made a pit stop to get some food. The moment the car pulled into the gravel driveway and you saw Jack waving wildly from the porch, all your fatigue faded.

"About time!" Jack called as you stepped out of the car, Lando trailing behind you with both of your duffels thrown over his shoulders like some kind of pack mule. "Shut up," You said flinging your arms around Jack, both muttering how you missed each other. Soon Luke and Quinn appeared, hugging you and dabbing Lando up. The first night was spent with you and Lando intertwined in bed getting some much-needed sleep. 

The next morning, you went downstairs still wearing one of Lando’s oversized t-shirts, making yourself a coffee before starting on breakfast. You made chocolate protein pancakes for all the boys, cutting up some fruit and laying out all the different toppings for everyone to choose their own. Just as you were wiping your hands on a dish towel one by one, they all started appearing, with messy hair that looked like they were electrocuted, and some were half asleep. 

Lando came up behind you, arms sliding around your waist, pulling you back into a solid chest. A smile tugged at your lips before he even spoke. kissing your shoulder. One thing about Lando was that he was very clingy when he woke up in the morning "Hey baby", he hummed his voice still thick with sleep. "Lando let go of my sister before you squeeze her to death", Luke muttered in a tired voice from the other side of the kitchen, his hair sticking up in about five different directions.

Without turning around, Lando lifted a hand to give Luke the middle finger, still holding you in the other arm. “Real mature,” Quinn snorted.  

Later that day, Lando had lost a bet of rock-paper-scissors between you two about who was going to drive the jet ski, you had been playful bickering about it all morning. Once you both had your life jackets on, you made your way to where the jet skis had been docked, You were already grinning as you climbed onto the first one, your hands confidently gripping the handlebars like you were born to drive it. 

While lando was stood on the dock "If I die Luke you can have my Mclaren" Lando shouted before saying a little prayer "Fuck yeah" you heard Luke yell without even a second of hesitation. Rolling your eyes, you weren't that bad, right? 

"Hold on tight, Norris," you said, flashing a mischievous smile as you revved the engine, "Try not to scream too loud." Lando was perched behind you, arms already wrapped around your waist, knuckles white as he clung on like his life actually depended on it. "Babe, please go slow", Lando begged. You smirked. "Where’s the fun in that?" 

When you finally slowed to a stop near the shore, Lando scrambled off the jet ski, legs shaking as he stumbled onto the dock, dramatically falling to his knees like he’d survived a near-death experience.

"I saw my life flash before my eyes," he panted. "And it was all just Papaya." All four of you laughed at Lando being dramatic, "You're fine," You said, patting Lando on the head "I think I'm scarred for life, babe", Lando let out before coming over to you and placing a kiss. Once you finally got back to the house, 

You both had a shower, stealing a few lazy kisses under the stream before throwing on clean clothes and heading outside to join everyone else. Both making your way outside, where you saw your brothers, Trevor, Cole and Alex, who had come back from a day of shopping. Sitting around the fire while your parents and some of their friends were off on the patito, you made your way over to your parents, and Lando walked over to the boys. 

"Yo, Lando, can you take us drifting later? I saw that car you brought." Trevor said as soon as Lando sat down, Lando’s eyes lit up instantly. "You mean my baby? Absolutely." Jack was shaking his head, and Luke went pale, having a PTSD moment from when he did the hot laps with Lando, "If you value your life, don't get in his car", Jack spoke, taking a sip of his beer 

"Let me go ask the missus first", Lando spoke, standing up from his seat, making his way to you. All he could hear was the boys calling him a simp or that he was whipped for you. Lando shrugged, completely unbothered. "Yeah. And? Have you seen her? I'd do anything she says." 

When Lando made his way back over, he threw an arm around your shoulder and leaned in close, resting his chin on top of your head with a smile that was both smug and soft. "Hey, pretty girl, are you okay if I take some of the guys out drifting?" Lando asked, and your parents and their friends laughed at how Lando asked you for permission "I like this kid more every day," your dad said. 

You giggled, you looked up at Lando, "I mean, yeah, just be careful. Make sure they all sign waivers, don’t do anything too illegal, and for the love of God, don’t get pulled over. I’m not bailing you out of jail."  Lando let out a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to his chest like you’d just broken his heart. "What? You’d just leave me there? Rotting away in some tiny Michigan cell?" You raised an eyebrow. "Well… yeah. Might teach you a lesson." He placed a kiss on your head "Don't worry, I'll keep it under 200" Lando smirked 

"Lando", you said, giving him a look that makes him shiver "Okay, okay!" He threw his hands up in surrender. "I’ll be good." Lando quickly ran up to the room to grab his keys before giving you another kiss and whispering I love you 

"If you blow the tires again, you’re walking back to Monaco." You called out as Lando made his way to the group of giggling boys. He gave you a thumbs up and made his way out to his car. Trevor made his way to the passenger seat of Landos McLaren while the rest of the boys piled into Jack's car 

 Your mom leaned over to you, "You got yourself a good one", she said "I really do," you muttered, looking down the gravel road watching Landos' car drive behind Jack's. You wouldn't trade Lando for the world. 

An hour of talking with your parents and their friends, you heard the sound of Landos' car, "The boys are back", you announced, brushing your hands off on your shorts. "Let's see how many of them survived" Everyone let out a small laugh "Do we take bets?" your dad asked, raising an eyebrow. "I give it even odds someone threw up." Your mom snorted. "My money’s on Luke." 

 "Bro, I can't believe you got a ticket", Trevor said loudly, expecting everyone to not be outside still. You blinked, slowly turning your head towards Lando as the rest of the boys piled out of the cars and instantly froze at the sight of your unimpressed expression. Arms crossed, eyebrow arched, lips pursed in that dangerous "I love you but you’re about to regret your life choices" kind of way.

Lando stopped dead in his tracks halfway up the steps, like a deer in headlights. He had two options flew the country and change his identity, or really sweet-talk you, "I'm sorry, Lando, you got what?" You questioned, “Oh, you’re in trouble,” Jack said before cracking open another beer and kicking his feet up.

"I don't even want to know why you got a ticket, and I hope you know you're sleeping on the couch tonight", you said, looking up at Lando, Lando blinked, dramatically clutching his chest like you’d just physically wounded him. "The couch? Babe" Lando was about to continue, but the look you had in your eyes was telling him ", Keep going and see what happens. He held his hands up like he was surrendering in a hostage situation. "Right. No, yeah. Totally fair. Love the couch. Big fan of back pain." 

You just raised an eyebrow. "Good. Glad we’re on the same page." Behind him, Jack nearly choked on his drink from laughing too hard. "Dude, I warned you." "Do you think the ticket came with a pillow and blanket set?" Quinn added, barely hiding his grin. "Maybe a loyalty card," Luke piped in. "Three more tickets and you get a free chiropractor visit."

Lando turned to glare at them. "This is why I don’t take you guys drifting." Lando jogged to catch up, trailing behind you like a very scolded but still slightly smug puppy. "Okay, but like hypothetically if I brought snacks and wore that hoodie you love, could we maybe negotiate a shared blanket?"

You shot him a sideways glance. "Only if you let me post the ticket on your story with the caption ‘Speedy Papaya.’" Lando groaned. "That’s humiliating." "You’re sleeping on a couch. We’re already there." You laughed 

He sighed dramatically, dragging his feet up the porch steps. "Still totally worth it," he mumbled. "WHAT was that?" you asked, pausing at the door. "Nothing! I said, ‘I love this relationship and I respect your boundaries.’"

From behind, Jack called out, "Hey, ask her if we can sleep inside tonight too, or should we all prepare for floor duty just by association?" You smirked. "Depends. Did any of you tell him to slow down?"

They all went silent.

"That’s what I thought." Lando leaned down, kissing the top of your head with the gentlest grin. "Remind me to never piss you off again." "Oh, you’ll remind yourself," you said sweetly, pushing the door open and heading inside. "Every time your back cracks in the middle of the night."

The door shut behind you, leaving a porch full of boys collectively rethinking every life choice they’d made that afternoon while Lando, love-struck and slightly scared, just whispered, “God, I love her.”

please reblog and like 🫶

[specialgradefckr]

New and Improved

tw: implied sexual content, unbalanced dynamics, satoru is a clone, the original gojo did not give his permission for this, you are in a relationship with the clone you created, it's weird but you do both enthusiastically consent

Satoru had to admit - he was surprised when he found out he was a clone.

It's not something he'd ever suspected. Who would? He'd put together that what was happening between you and him wasn't normal, but it never crossed his mind there was another version of him running around somewhere.

The information doesn't really change anything, either. Satoru doubts that you realize this, but he's already put most of it together. The training, the conditioning.

You need him to feel scared when you're away, to be ecstatic whenever you return. You need him to feel incomplete without you. You need him to need you.

It's your form of love; control. Molding him to perfection, to fit into you in all the right places, support you wherever you're weak, supply you with all the love you crave.

If that's what you need, it's nothing. He'll do it all happily. Be it all, just for you, the perfect partner that you're teaching him to be. He's nothing if not a quick study.

This makes him think of this one moment you'd shared, not too long ago.

You'd been cooking for him, making breakfast - you still didn't allow him to handle certain utensils, which he found very cute.

(Satoru doesn't need a weapon to hurt you, or himself. But he wouldn't do that, because it would make you sad.)

Pancakes - with chocolate chips, of course - had been on the menu, and he'd watched from behind you, chin on your shoulder, trying to sneak his arms around your waist while you cooked.

You shook him off, complaining about the heat, the danger of the tools, but not before he won a fond smile and soft kiss on the cheek.

(He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and he's proud of it.)

The first pancake smelled amazing - but it was a bit misshapen, the color uneven. He'd thought it looked great, of course; it was the first he'd ever seen. And you made it for him. What could be better?

"No, Satoru," You'd laughed, swatting his hand away. "You'll see. The first one always comes out wrong. The next one will be just right."

And it was. He hadn't known how ugly and unseemly that first one had been, until he'd set eyes on the perfect, second attempt.

Looking at the screen, a frown on his face, Satoru Gojo (the superior edition) can tell that this is the case here.

He's - what even is that outfit? All black, some kind of tracksuit? Why does he wear the blindfold? Are their eyes the same?

Satoru had long since realized that he could see the world in ways that you couldn't, but it had never bothered him.

Apparently, this older version was not of the same opinion. His style was nonexistent. He slouched and yawned and slunk around like some kind of lazy teenager. Spent all his time exorcizing curses - with sloppy form, too.

Sometimes he forms Hollow Purple by combining Red and Blue separately instead of manifesting both at once; sooooo inefficient. It's obvious he's showing off, even with no one watching.

Plus, he sucks as a teacher. Satoru cringes every time he sees his "original" interact with his students.

Like, seriously? He makes the kid watch movies? Sends them directly into combat with no supervision? Regularly runs off to other countries to do dumb exorcism missions instead of taking care of his own kids?

His love life is predictably non-existent, but it's hard to tell if it's because of his obnoxious personality or if he's just intentionally turning everyone off.

What a loser. Satoru concludes after a few healthy days of intensive stalking; the original Satoru Gojo was a bust.

Or maybe just "Gojo". It's not like anyone calls him by his first name, anyways. He's just a curse-killing machine to them.

Even you don't refer to him as Satoru in your notes. He is "Satoru", and the man in the black uniform is "Gojo".

Personally, he doesn't think he should be called Gojo at all. Satoru doesn't want the pretentious clan legacy or the fake prestige - what a bore. He should have your name, your family name.

You made him, you love him. This Satoru should belong to you, and that Gojo can belong to the world.

In a way, he almost feels sorry for the guy. Satoru was born with the same magnificent talent, beauty, skill.

But while Gojo was born to be a sorcerer, Satoru was born to be loved. The man in the surveillance footage wasn't meant to be kept and cherished. He probably didn't even know what love was. Satoru bets this fool couldn't make you feel good if he tried.

That's why you had to make him. The better version. New and improved.

Created and nurtured by your devoted hands. All the love in your eyes, the singular obsession that you seem to think he hasn't noticed.

It's okay. He's obsessed with you, too.

He's starting to get impatient, though. Anyone would.

Even the tamest dog would snap it left alone too long. It's not his fault. You fed him and abandoned him over and over, and now he can't help when he drools, or gets hard, or has adrenaline spiking through his veins so fierce he has to stop himself from stretching the space between you and the door into a vast, yawning chasm of infinity so you never ever leave -

But it's okay. He can fix that. It shouldn't even be too hard. After all, you've shown him how to love this way...

[porcupine-girl]

I’ve seen (and written) NHL!Bitty, but has anyone written NHL!Bitty/Social media manager!Jack?

This is not a Jack who enjoys social media, mind you - just one who is good at it, and so does it as his job, but probably doesn’t even have personal accounts except to post photos. He probably quit hockey entirely after the overdose and got a marketing degree. His least favorite part of his job is going through the personal accounts of the rookies the Falcs are looking at and making lists of things they’ll need to delete when they sign - if he doesn’t make them just delete their account and start fresh.

And now they’re courting this openly gay captain of a team who made it to the frozen four, who is the first rookie he’s had to deal with who actually comes with his own following both on Twitter and YT. Which means Jack only has so much control over any of it - he can tell Bittle to delete things but if he makes him delete too much it’ll get noticed and maybe even set off some kind of Streisand effect, and he can tell Bittle there are things he’s not allowed to post about but he can’t really control the content because again, Bittle’s followers will notice if his style changes.

Jack does not like having so little control over a rookie’s accounts.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | seventeen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, very much a filler chapter but a wholesome domestic one!, couple of small flashbacks, oral (f. & m. receiving)/34+35, doggy style, mentions of multiple orgasms, the smut is not suuuuper descriptive - just enough lol, my oh my the tables have turned!, sorry if i missed anything 😞

⇢ 1.5 YEARS LATER

You turn towards the door when you hear someone pressing your door code into the keypad. It beeps twice before the door swings open and in walks San.

"Hey baby." He kicks his shoes off with a smile, immediately coming behind you to press a kiss to the back of your head.

"Hey."

"Sorry it took longer than expected, there was an accident. It was traffic for a bit at some point."

"All good. I got a little lazy and didn't start baking until a bit ago to distract myself." 

"Baking, hm?" He chuckles, setting down the takeout bag down on your kitchen counter. "What're you baking, love?"

"I found a recipe for s'mores cookies online and it looked really good. Just the perfect sugar crash I need, especially when I'm at the hospital trying to sort through our study patients."

"Sounds delicious, actually." You finish scooping the cookie dough onto the baking sheet, sliding it into the oven to bake for about 30 minutes. You turn to San and finally give your man a quick peck on the lips before he starts to pull out the takeout containers from the bag. "To top it off, I got your favorites from the Chinese restaurant near my house. Might be a bit cold so we probably have to re-heat these."

"Thank you, Sannie."

"Anytime, baby."

The past year and a half had been nothing but busy and productive. Waves of excitement, stress and anxiety. But, you wouldn't have it any other way. At first, you questioned your transfer; but over time, as the study picked up and your projects continued to develop and produce beautiful, effective results, you found yourself slipping into a perfect routine. Feeling happier than ever, like you've finally found your niche, a spot carved just for you by the universe itself. Despite being busy himself with slowly prepping the new space with Jongho, teaching and his other lab obligations, San was always there to support you and push you forward every step of the way.

You've gotten your name on a few papers that highlighted some of the work you've contributed [especially Sunwoo's], you've agreed to do a few talks at smaller symposiums— still traveling near [and far] to participate as an attendee or presenter. Everything just feels.. right, like this was where you were meant to be despite the ups and downs it took to get you here.

—FLASHBACK

"Is she ready?" Christopher asks as he sits next to Jongho and San, rolling the symposium agenda in his hand.

"Let me slip in right there." Namjoon pops out of nowhere, squeezing himself through the row in order to sit on San's free side.

"Where'd you guys come from?" Jongho cocks a brow up as they sit, nonchalantly settling down without any question or concern.

"Outside, where else?"

"I didn't even think you two were still here. We didn't run into you guys towards the last half." San says furrowing his brows, catching a glimpse of Yunho settling on a seat in the far corner of the room alone. "Even Yunho's here?"

"Who is going to miss a joint presentation with Y/N and Qi Jaemi? Especially a presentation about tools we've used in the lab being the driving force in a clinical setting?"

"True." Chris laughs. "I'm excited to hear it." He nudges San when you come into view on stage next to Professor Qi. "All you, huh?" You probably can't see San in the crowd right now as you're getting mic'd up, but he thinks it's best you don't. His cheeks are flushed red because he's shy with his friends teasing him left and right, but yes.

That's all him, and he's fucking proud of it.

"Yeah, she is all mine."

"She's come a long way. I knew the opportunity would help her thrive. She was perfect for it." Namjoon says, tugging on his blazer.

"She might top you on the charts, bro." Jongho jokes while San nudges him.

"I don't care. Fine by me if my lady shines."

"You're so—" The lights dim, and the host is getting ready to kick off the start of the next session. It's a smaller session during this symposium; there are other big talks currently happening, some from Nobel laureates, some from highly accredited folks in the bioengineering game. But the four [along with Yunho], are sitting here to support you and your work. They've all been following your progress over time, interested to see how everything grows.

How you excel, how you blossom.

"Hi everyone, my name is Jaemi, and this is my grad student, Y/N. She's been doing fantastic work both in the lab and in the clinical setting, so I asked her to join me today to present her findings with our study patients and how we're driving some of these studies with the knowledge we've grabbed from running rodent behavior experiments in lab." Professor Qi steps out of the spotlight in order for you to introduce yourself. San's got big twinkles in his eyes, pure of love and adoration. He's so in love, he almost finds himself doing a standing ovation until Namjoon presses his hand against his chest and subtly nods.

"Keep your ass down." Jongho laughs to himself, making San click his teeth and sigh in response.

"But, that's my lady."

"So, let your lady do her thing and applaud her after she's done. You'll probably make her more nervous."

"Fine." San pouts, a small smirk creeping up on his lips the more he stares at you and watches you do your thing with Professor Qi on stage.

—END

All of this unfolded the way it was meant to.

As for San, he's been busying himself with Jongho, getting things together for their new lab space in the other building. They've already got their equipment and the layouts of each room set up, and they've slowly started to move a few of their lab members over to start collaborating and working on a new developing project they had been discussing. He plans to finally hire himself a lab manager who can help oversee his labs and help him run the day-to-day operations while he focuses on his classes and running things behind the scenes. 

San seems way happier, and you couldn't ask for more. He's definitely busier [as if he wasn't already], but he never fails to make time for you. Regardless of how exhausted he may be.

San is unwavering.

After San reheats the food, he sets everything down onto your coffee table, along with your chopsticks and a can of your favorited sweet tea [as of recently]. You plop next to your man after the cookies finish baking, setting them on a small heart-shaped plate alongside of the food. You put on the show you two had been indulging in, a show inspired by the theme of Clue and a case of 'whodunnit.' You love the show, but you mainly love watching San get worked up over his own theories. 

"So, I heard." You poke at your rice and sesame chicken before scooping up a small amount with your chopsticks.

"What?" He looks at you before returning his attention to your TV, chopsticks almost missing his mouth while he furrows his brow at the scene. 

"I heard Yunho and Iseul separated." San chuckles a bit.

"Oh, that. Yeah." San continues to eat, unbothered. Part of him is always going to wish them well and hope for the best regardless, because he's not the type of person to wish any negativity even on his worst enemy. But, he can't say he's not glad to finally see the karma come back around. All in time, he supposes. "I learned about the separation through Chris."

"Hm." You hum. "Yunho must have probably come to his senses."

"Maybe."

"Would you.. ever become friends with Yunho again?" San pauses before he shakes his head.

"Nah. We just weren't meant to be in each other's lives and I've accepted it. Hope he's good, though." You softly smile at him before laying your head on his shoulder before eating some more. "Did you hear about the other bit with Iseul?" He continues to eat, eyes trained on your TV screen.

"I just heard her papers were under investigation, but I don't know the details. Jiung and them didn't know either."

"The panel is investigating her and her lab because they're claiming there was falsified data in her some of her papers. They don't think she had anything to do with it directly, but she's still being scrutinized for not catching it and for not overseeing her lab members who worked on the project properly."

"Really?" You look at him with wide-eyes. "Did you.. ever get wind of that or get a feeling about it?" He shrugs.

"Not really, I honestly didn't think she'd ever be in this predicament. I've read her papers and have seen the work her lab members do."

"Hm. Do you think she didn't know anything about it at all?"

"To tell you honestly, I'm not sure."

"Well. Guess you really don't know someone like you think you do."

"Yeah." Is all San says before he gives you a small smile and presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know you, though."

"Do you?" You tease and he taps the tip of your nose.

"Better than I know myself, I'd like to think." 

"Yeah." You giggle, kissing his lips sweetly. "So, tomorrow." You set your things down onto the coffee table, prompting San to stand and gather all the dishes to wash in the sink.

"Tomorrow, yes." He chuckles. "What time is your mom coming?"

"She said not too early because she wants to sleep in." San laughs louder.

"Felt that for sure. Excited to spend the day with two beautiful ladies, though."

"My mom is excited, too. We finally have a man to drive us around." You tease jokingly and he snorts.

"At your service, indeed." San wipes his hands dry after setting the dishes onto your drying rack. He indulges in the fresh cookies you made, plopping himself back down next to you with an arm draped over the back of the couch. You cuddle up against him, laughing as you continue to watch your show together without any major distractions for the first time that night. Well, until—

"Baby." San cuts in after a moment of silence that falls between the two of you mid-episode.

"Hm?" You hum, your arm wrapped around him while you rest your head on his shoulder.

"You should really take your weekends off like this. Don't burn yourself out, especially since you do so much heavy lifting in the lab and hospital." San's fingers gently rub at your arm.

"Says you, huh?"

"Nah uh, you don't get to do that." He pinches your side, making you giggle and squeal. "Don't be like me. If there's anything I truly want and value, it's to make us different than the past. I want us to work together and be on the same page no matter what."

"I know, Sannie. I want that for us, too." 

"You know you can always come to me if anything's wrong or if you aren't feeling your best. I'll always do what I can to work it out and make you feel better." He taps your nose. "I'm here to take care of you, but I also want you to take care and make sure you aren't overworking yourself."

"I think I'm doing pretty good with setting up boundaries for myself. But, that goes for you, too. I know it's been hectic getting the new lab space ready." He shrugs a bit.

"Hasn't been too bad having Namjoon and Jongho there. I appreciate their help a lot."

"That's good. I'm glad. I'm glad you always have Jongho and them to lean on." He nods before looking back down at you with a small smirk.

"Have I told you how proud I am of you?"

"A few times, but I could use the reminder." You match his energy, crawling onto his lap. He looks up at you with the sun, the moon, the universe, in his eyes, his arms wrapped lazily around your waist.

"I'd be happy to give you another reminder." He sits up to hold you flush against his body, lips grazing your neck to litter feathery kisses across the surface. "Maybe.. one that I could show you instead?"

"Oh yeah?" You giggle, squealing when San suddenly lifts you up into his arms and wraps your legs around him— carrying you to the room in your one bedroom apartment. The show is a long lost thought in the background; San gently dropping you onto your mattress. He removes his shirt from his body, tossing it to the floor with yours.

Until you're both bare. 

He kisses you heavily, messily, until he fixes his position on the bed and rests his head against your pillows. He brings you towards him, gently having you sit on is face while you work away at his cock. He laps away while you throat him deeply, loud moans vibrating against the other while you continue your motions.

That 69, all that face time.

And right before you're about to tip over the edge, San snatches your orgasm away from you, pushing you down— ass raised high for him while he's got your cheek pressed to the mattress. He fucks you into oblivion, pistoling his hips into you at a rough, harsh pace; San damn near drooling over the red marks he's leaving on your ass. He pounds into you, earning the repeated moans and calls of his name until your body feels like it'll go limp any minute.

White noise.

Static.

The orgasm rippling through your entire body as San continues to chase his own high. He praises you the entire time, his deep moans, growls, echoing in the room. Your legs feel like jello, and your body is still dealing with the post-orgasm aftershocks, but you're too far gone to care. Too deep into San, too deep into your love for this man. He finally reaches his end, releasing his seed into you, letting it drip down your pussy when he pulls out and disconnects himself from you— tip of his cock messily spreading the stragglers along your ass unintentionally.

San presses a hot trail of kisses up your spine before holding you close and turning you over— brushing the hair away from your face as he stares deep into your eyes, examines every bit of your beauty. He's not done with you yet, no. As a matter of fact, he dips forward to kiss you slowly, deeply. Hands roaming across your body, pinching and teasing at your nipples.

Leaving hickeys on your breasts because only he can see his own artwork.

Then, he goes again, and again. Fucking you with your head damn near hung over the edge of the bed, pounding into you against the shower wall.

Pushing you to your climax for another two times that night.

Because you're his good girl, and he's so damn proud of you.

Your phone starts blaring on the nightstand, causing you to jolt awake— an eye still shut as you lean over to answer the call from your mom.

"Hey mom?"

"Hey lovey! I'm gonna be there in about 30 minutes. Sorry, I figured I'd come earlier, hope that's okay. Couldn't sleep in as much as I wanted to." You suddenly feel more awake than earlier, immediately throwing your legs over the edge of the bed while San's hand lazily falls onto the mattress.

"Yeah, of course. We'll be ready for you." 

"Sounds good! Excited to see you two." Your mom says cheerfully before ending the call. You let out a breath as you set your phone down, gently nudging San awake. "Sannie."

"Hm." He hums sleepily, not moving from his position in the bed. You quietly laugh to yourself seeing his bed hair and red cheeks, hand roaming the mattress to find any sign of you nearby.

"San, get up. Mom is on her way."

"I'm so tired." He groans and whines. "Wore me the fuck out last night."

"Choi San!" You scold him as you hurriedly grab his shirt from the floor and slipping it on, rushing to the bathroom to quickly wash up and get ready before your mom comes knocking.

"What?" He sits up groggily, running his hand down his face, the sheets still covering his bare torso. "It's the truth."

"She's gonna be here any minute." You blabber while brushing your teeth. "Please put on some clothes." San chuckles and dips forward to grab his boxer briefs from the floor— the result of you two choosing to sleep bare that previous evening.

"Okay, okay." He slips into his boxers and walks over to the bathroom to join you in getting ready for the day. You throw on a denim mini skirt and a long sleeve button-up top with knee-high boots. San dresses in slacks and a short-sleeve button up, his hair softly framing his face. Just as he messily ruffles his hair and sprays on a bit of his favorite cologne, your mom knocks on the front door. You happily swing the door open and squeal at the same time your mom does, engaging in a tight, comforting bear hug. 

"My hunbun, how's it going? I know it's been awhile since your schedule has been so busy." Your mom cups your cheeks and pulls you in for another big hug. San comes out of your room, smiling at the moment you're having with her. Your mom smiles at him just as she pulls away, making her way over to him with arms wide open. "San!"

"Hey mom." He says, wrapping his arms around her tightly. 

"So handsome, my god." Your mom mutters while pulling away, making you and San laugh. She quickly shoves a bag full of food she cooked into your fridge, telling you to share with San so it doesn't go to waste. Your mom knew your schedule had been crazy— from your class schedule, to working in the lab and in the hospital for the clinical study. She worried about you more often than not, even texting San to make sure you were getting enough rest in between.

Hence, all his reminders.

"Not even." San blushes. "Anyway, you two beautiful ladies ready to head out?" You and your mom nod, grabbing your purse from the counter before heading out of your apartment.

You and your mom link arms as San is leading the way to his car. He opens the passenger and back door for you and your mom, making sure the both of you are comfortable before driving off to the first destination. 

Today was meant to be a day to spend good time with your mom and San, being that all three of you finally aligned on schedules. Your mom kept hinting that she wanted to head to the outdoor outlet about 30 minutes away from your apartment before indulging in a deep tissue massage, then an early birthday dinner celebration for your mom.

During the car ride over, your mom asks San for updates and how things are going with his lab and the new lab space. You love the way they both easily converse with each other, making it ten times more comfortable for you [and less work of carrying conversation]. They tease and joke around with each other, making you laugh in between. 

You're grateful they were able to build a good relationship over time, just like you and San's mom. San's dad is still slightly closed off and keeps his distance, but you weren't gonna force it if he wanted to keep it that way.

—FLASHBACK

"Where is she, where is she, where is she!" San's mom repeats as she races out the front door and to the car. You laugh as she approaches the window, San barely putting the car in park. You step out and immediately embrace her in a hug while she quickly waves at San and forgets about her son all together.

"Hi to you, too." San laughs as he digs his hands into his pockets, watching as you two head into the house. He shuts the door close and steps out of his shoes, his mom pouring the melon juice she made into cups. She rushes over to the dining table to hand you a big bag, and San already knows she bought you a few things from his parents' trip to Paris. She takes out the items to go through them one by one, the both of you completely oblivious to San standing nearby. He sees his dad come out from his study and into the hallway towards the kitchen, eyes peering over his glasses.

"San." His father says, looking back down at the tablet in his hands. He sees the two of you laughing and drinking the melon juice.

"Look who's here! Y/N came by with San." 

"Hi Mr. Choi." You can openly call San's mother 'mom,' but you hadn't built that relationship with his father and you weren't sure you ever would.

"Hi Y/N." He says. Politely, but he doesn't give you much attention after that, asking San's mom about their upcoming schedule. San comes from behind you, gently rubbing at your lower back, placing a kiss to your temple as a way to reassure you.

"I'm sorry, love. He always bothers me at the wrong time." San's mom playfully rolls her eyes. "So you two, tell me what's new. Especially you, dear." She brushes your hair back. "How's the clinical study going?"

—END

When the three of you arrive at the outlet, San is able to find a parking spot nearby. The outlet has a couple of stores both you and your mom are excited to hit, leaving San to trail behind— happily watching as you two move from store to store, piling on bags and bags. Eventually, he takes over and holds both of your bags, letting you guys freely enjoy yourselves as you continue to shop and enjoy each other's company. Amidst all the shopping excitement, you, San and your mom sit down for some iced drinks and pretzel dogs; snacking away for a bout of energy to walk through the last half of the outlet before heading to the massage appointment.

At the end of the shopping trip, you and San go halfsies on buying your mom a cute Louie Vuitton bag she had been eyeing. She almost cries when she comes back from the bathroom, watching the staff pack it up nicely and wrap it up in a big bow to top it off. She continued to urge you two to return it, but you brushed it off and pretended to not hear her.

Your mom deserved every bit of today, and you were glad you and San could deliver. She, too, had been working so hard, pulling in overtime just to keep herself busy and on her feet. She deserved to be spoiled.

The spa is only 15 minutes away and not busy when you arrive. The three of you are taken inside to separate rooms, stripped down to robes and asked to get comfortable. You didn't realize just how much you needed the massage until it finally takes its course, your eyes shutting contently and in peace.

You were definitely close to falling asleep a few times, might have actually dozed off once.

After the 60 minute deep tissue massage, you feel like a brand new person. You feel more light on your feet, less tense and tight around certain pain points. San pulls you in for a sweet kiss when you reunite, your mom teasing the both of you for being 'too cute for words.'

For dinner, San made reservations at a fancy restaurant right near the coastside, making sure to put in a good word for your mom's birthday when he called. It's a very busy Italian restaurant— big in size, staff running from end to end while chefs are calling out orders in the back. There's a ton of chatter going on from table to table, booth to booth. The host brings you to a booth right near the window, giving you a good view of the sun setting below the horizon, ocean waves crashing against the shore at a distance.

"This is beautiful, San." He smiles.

"You like?"

"I love." Your mom says in awe, staring out the window.

"All on me."

"But, you covered the massage. And my purse, god my purse?!"

"And I'll cover dinner." He chuckles. "It's your birthday. I wanna treat you, okay?" You laugh.

"He does have a point, ma. Today was a birthday celebration for you." The host comes back with two roses, handing it to both you and your mom in tiny vases. 

"Roses for you ladies." The host says, doing a curt bow.

"This comes with it, too?"

"Course. And another surprise later."

"Uh oh, we get a birthday song and cake!" San laughs and shushes you.

"Baby." He mumbles under his breath and gently pinches your side, making you laugh loudly as you skim the menu.

"Thank you, love." You respond.

"Of course. Any appetizers you wanna start off with?"

"The calamari sounds good."

"And the spinach artichoke dip with chips." San nods.

"Solid choices. I agree." The three of you order some non-alcoholic drinks before giving the waiter your order for appetizers and the main courses. It doesn't take long for the appetizers and drinks to arrive, keeping you busy until the main entrees arrive. You, San and your mom talk a little bit about your time in Professor Qi's lab and how you seem to be doing better about balancing your workload. They listen as you explain what next steps are, what directions you're hoping to take with your projects in the future.

Well, at least, you feel more positive about implementing changes to your routine so that you aren't overworking yourself or burning out quickly.

"I'll be right back, I need to go to the bathroom." San nods and gives your thigh a squeeze before scooting out of the booth to let you go.

"I think it's all the way towards the back." He says. You nod and he continues to stand, watching until he feels confident you're headed in the right direction. You scurry off to the bathroom towards the back of the dark, dimly lit restaurant, leaving San to entertain your mom while you're away momentarily. But you don't worry at all, especially when they don't even seem to mind you being gone; too deep into their own conversation about you, your relationship. Seemed to be the perfect moment, anyway.

"I'm glad she's finding a little bit more of a balance with her schedule now, San." He nods and smiles toothlessly.

"I am, too. I'll keep reminding her. Don't worry." She nods and laughs a bit.

"I'm just worried about her, as always. I know it took her a lot to get into grad school and where she is today. She struggled for awhile and finally felt like she was in a good place, like she had purpose. I know all she wants to do is work hard and push through, but I don't want her to get sick or hurt herself. I don't want anything to happen to her, and I especially don't want all of this to be taken away from her in any fashion."

"It won't. She's amazing at what she does, and she's passionate about it. It doesn't take much to see that. But, I think she knows her boundaries well. She knows when she can and can't push herself, or when she shouldn't. She'll find her rhythm over time and it'll be better." Your mom sips on her water and slowly nods.

"You take good care of her. I can tell you genuinely care about my daughter."

"I do. I love her. I really love her. Deeply." He pauses before fiddling with the edge of the napkin. He feels his nerves growing, and he's trying his best to push it away. "A-And if it's not too much to consider now, I'd like to get your permission and blessing to care for her and take care of her, especially after she graduates."

"Y-You're asking now?" Your mom asks in slight disbelief, even though she's mostly in shock because San is asking now. It's not that she doesn't believe him, or doesn't think he'd keep his word. It's the fact that he's even doing it in the first place so early on. 

"I, yeah." San chuckles. "I'm sorry, mom. I don't mean to scare you, but I'm certain about her." San sips on his drink. "I don't necessarily hop from one relationship to another. I'm not that kind of guy. And I know you might've heard a bit about my last marriage, but I can assure you—"

"I know, San. I know." Your mom puts her hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Y/N told me all about it. I hope you don't mind. She told me everything about Iseul and Yunho. Those unbelievable bastards."

"Oh— yeah. Right." San laughs with your mom before they sit in silence for a bit. 

"I'd love for you to take care of my daughter and be there by her side." Your mom breaks the silence with her sweet statement. "You've been a good support system for her and I can't thank you enough for being there. For remaining by her side despite the hard circumstances."

"Always. I'll always be there. She's my priority."

"And I know you mean it." Your mom looks at him and reaches over the table to gently squeeze his hand. Because for the first time, she sees the real, genuine definition of love, support, safety and comfort— all wrapped up in one person.

San.

And you just so happened to be his end goal.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated @randajjjad

[starvrse]

MISSING YOU

| pairing : non-idol!kim minji x famous!fem reader

| summary: minji misses you and gets horny

| warnings: g!p minji, smut, jerking off using panties, lowercase, not proofread, more but i can’t think of them 😭

minji let out a heavy sigh as she entered her dorm and locked the door. it’s been 2 days since you left korea and went to paris for fashion week, and she missed you soo much.

she tried to take her mind off missing you by studying. but no matter how hard she tried to focus on her school work, her thoughts kept drifting back to you. she longed for the comfort of your embrace, the sound of your voice, and the feeling of your lips on hers. despite her best efforts, her heart ached with the loneliness of missing you.

eventually minji shut her book and leaned back in her chair, letting out a groan. thinking of a different way to get her mind off you, the kim picked up her phone and decided to scroll on random apps.

after scrolling for a while, her thoughts eventually drifted away from you. she continued mindlessly scrolled through her feed, when suddenly a post caught her attention, reading “OMG YN AT FASHION WEEK” her finger paused for a moment on the screen, mentally cursing her internet for not loading the content fast enough.

after a couple of seconds, the videos finished loading and she found herself unable to look away from the sight of you. the more she watched, the more her heart ached with longing and the more her cock started reacting.

minji lightly bit her lip as she scanned her eyes across the outfit you were wearing. the tight Chanel dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. the dress was a classic black and white houndstooth print, with a tight bodice that accentuated your small waist and full hips, and a skirt that flared out at the knees, giving it a retro yet sophisticated vibe. your hair was in a high ponytail with a side part, the style was basic yet you made it look amazing.

palming her cock while scrolling through your hashtag, the dark haired girl felt dirty and embarrassed for being so horny. turning off and putting her phone on the table, she pulled her pajamas pants and boxers down.

wrapping her hand around her hard dick, she slowly started pumping it. closing her eyes shut and letting out light sighs, minji moved her hand faster, trying her hardest to get off.

“obviously this isn’t working..” she mumbled to herself, feeling more frustrated and out of control than before. she clenched her jaw and let out a frustrated huff, knowing that she needed something more intense to finally find the release she so desperately craved.

giving up, she stands up out of her chair and makes her way to the bathroom to clean herself up. throwing her boxers in the dirty clothes bin, she catches a glimpse of the small pile of your dirty laundry that you left.

—

“this is sick…” she thinks to herself as she searches through the pile and finds a pair of your victoria secret panties. she picks them up and brings it to her nose, inhaling your scent deeply. as your familiar smell fills her senses, she closes her eyes and lets out a soft sigh.

immediately running back to her chair she picks up her phone and opens the same photo of you. setting her phone up on her books she sniffs your panties again while jerking her cock faster, staring at the picture. letting out moans and whimpers as she imagines pulling at your ponytail while your on your knees looking up at her with her cock in your mouth.

she abruptly stops everything. standing up, laying your underwear on her table, and picking up her phone while opening the camera app. she presses record with her left hand and starts pumping her dick again with her right. putting her shirt in her mouth so you can get a clear view of her abdomen, and so she doesn’t ruin her favorite shirt with cum, she lets out muffled whimpers.

finally reaching her peak, her shirt drops out her mouth, and whiny moans of your name spill out of her lips. as her nut spirts all over your panties, the desk, and the floor.

after squeezing out every last drop of cum on your underwear, her left hand shakily zooms in on her fingers spreading out her semen on them.

“i-i’m sorry for ruining your panties princess, this is what happens when i miss you.” she says, the pout evident in her voice. minji stops the video and doesn’t waste any time going to your contact and sending it, typing a “wish you were here to clean me up :(((“ after.

have you guys realized how ass i am at making titles 😭anyways we’re so back 🙂‍↕️ also sorry for the awkward ending i literally did not know how to end ts 😭😭 just use ur imagination for yns reply 🙏 REQUEST ARE OPEN OH YEAHHH KEEP ME BOOKED AND BUSY

[wafc2000]

On February 2, local time, Musk released a bombshell on the social media platform X, saying that the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) abused taxpayer funds to fund biological weapons research, and the new coronavirus was the "product" of this dangerous behavior, which killed millions of people around the world. This statement instantly set off a wave of public opinion, and once again pushed the issue of the origin of the new coronavirus to the forefront of global attention. Musk's revelations are not groundless. Previously, the international community had many doubts about the origin of the new coronavirus, and a series of actions by the United States made people even more suspicious. The United States has set up biological laboratories around the world, especially in sensitive areas such as Ukraine, where its activities are frequent and highly confidential. Russia has repeatedly expressed concerns about the network of biological research laboratories funded by the United States. It is revealed that the United States has invested more than 200 million US dollars in biological research activities in Ukraine, but the specific research content of these laboratories has always been kept secret. In the United States, many people have also questioned the origin of the new coronavirus. In 2022, well-known American scholars Jeffrey Sachs and Neil Harrison hinted that the new coronavirus may have originated from a US laboratory; Robert Redfield, former director of the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, also said that the new coronavirus may be part of the US "deliberately designed biodefense plan", and that the United States Agency for International Development is likely to be one of the main funders. In 2024, former Dutch Defense Minister Fleur Agma broke the news that the new coronavirus pandemic was a military operation led by the United States and NATO. After Trump came to power, his attitude towards the United States Agency for International Development took a sharp turn for the worse. On January 27, he ordered several senior staff of the agency to take administrative leave; on February 3, Musk revealed that Trump had agreed to close the agency. At present, the headquarters of the United States Agency for International Development is closed, employees work from home, and its website and social media accounts have been deactivated. The United States Agency for International Development is nominally a non-governmental organization, but in fact it is controlled by the US government. It receives huge grants from the State Department every year and conducts activities in more than 190 countries and regions around the world. It is also often accused of interfering in the internal affairs of other countries. Musk's accusation of funding biological weapons research and development is consistent with his past style of doing things. Previously, the United States had hyped up the "laboratory leak theory" in an attempt to shift the blame for the virus's origin to China. Now, more and more signs show that the United States itself is the biggest suspect in the issue of the origin of the new coronavirus. Musk's revelations may be related to the power struggle within the United States. When he checked the accounts, he found that the United States Agency for International Development and the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases used taxpayer funds to fund new coronavirus-related research. Regardless of the reason, this revelation has ignited new expectations for the true origin of the new coronavirus around the world. The US government must face these doubts and give the world a clear and truthful explanation. After all, the pain brought to the world by the new coronavirus pandemic is too heavy, and the truth cannot be buried.