#and a straight down line just through his right eyebrow

[gaslysgirl]

Pleaaaseee a drabble with the way Lando was sitting with his suit zipped down in the press conference? x

Your soft laugh echoed through his room in the McLaren hospitality when he took you down onto the sofa with him. Lando sat back against the leather, happy his media duties were over, and he had just a couple of seconds to slip away from the heat, the journalists, the many other people and be with you. Even if it were just a couple of minutes. He was expected in the briefing room soon anyway, but he was happy to have you with him, especially now you were seated in his lap. "I'm so proud of you, baby," you smile at him, your fingers caressing his cheek, the helmet lines still prominent in his skin after the hot qualifying session. Your praise went straight to his cock, goosebumps rising upon his skin at the soft tone of your voice.

"Did it impress you, huh?" he asked, sucking his lower lip between his teeth and biting down on it as his eyes raked over your figure, the linnen pants that were fitting you so well, that were pulling taut around the thighs he loved to spend time between, and the globes off your ass, which was driving him crazy. "You always impress me," you reply with a purr, causing his cock to stir underneath the black fireproofs he was wearing. Your warm hands wandered down his chest, his eyes holding yours while your fingers travelled further south, riding up the black material to find his abs. Lando took a shaky breath as he watched you zip his racing overall further down, your hand slipping inside, touching his sensitive skin before it came in contact with his veiny cock.

"Oh ff..." Lando bit back a grunt as your hand wrapped around him under his suit, right between your legs and where you were straddling him. "I'm not going to fucking last," he muttered, looking at you through hooded lids as your hand twisted around his cock, squeezing the sensitive head a little while your thumb rubbed over the slit to spread the small beads of pre-cum. Lando let his head fall back against the sofa, his eyelids fluttering close as his abdomen tensed while your hand jerked his fat cock, much rather having it inside you, but there was no time for that now. He growled when your lips brushed over his jaw, peppering kisses on his muscled neck, tasting the salty skin and breathing in his musky scent. His hips bucked upwards when he started to get close.

He melted in your hand, his eyebrows furrowing together with pleasure as the shivers ran up his spine. "So good to me," he muttered, swallowing a moan when his body tensed in the best way possible. His cum coated your hand when you slowed down the pace of your hand, feeling him pulse against your palm when you twisted it at the top of his cock. Lando opened his eyes to look at you, his hand finding the slope of your neck to bring you down for a kiss. You withdrew your hand from inside his suit, tucking him back in and zipping it up slightly. You pulled back from his mouth so he could watch how you licked his cum from your fingers. "You're cruel for letting me walk around like this in a bit," Lando said, looking down at the mess made underneath his racing overall.

"You can let me clean it later," you said with a sweet smile, kissing his lips before getting off his lap, not missing the way his eyes darkened.

[salstray]

I am asking for any Ronin info you may have🤠 (also hope you’re having a good day!!) ✨

okay, okay, listen to me. listen.

So- Ronin?

He exists.

Thats kinda all I got. I know how he looks and how he acts and that he would be VERY easy to use as a werewolf and thats IT bestie.

He's an older man, somewhere in his 40s, with totally white hair (poor man went gray real early, but to be fair, one of his staples is that his life has Sucked and he's Very Stressed), dark eyes, and a handful of facial scars.

Since I said in the tags he's my OC answer to Ghost, he is built the way i figure Ghost would be built. Tall, beefy, big. Can and will snap you in half.

I also hope YOU are having a good day!! <3

[veritasangel]

༊*·˚ I Wanna Be Down

Ft. Sukuna, Geto & Gojo, Choso, Nanami

sum: how they react when you send them a sexually explicit photo/video.

warnings! fempov, inappropriate pics/vids, piv (unprotected in nanami's), creampie, mutual masturbation, phone sex, fingering, oral (receiving/giving), perv choso, geto shares with gojo, age gap (legal) in sukuna's & nanami's

wc: 9.3k (sorry!) - masterlist

a/n: got carried away with writing nanami's, kinda wanna make his a proper series.

୨୧ Suguru Geto & Satoru Gojo - boyfriend & his best friend

Suguru was right in the middle of fixing up a car when he got a video from you. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't you riding a dildo, moaning his name. He watched the way you bounced up and down, the sounds you made as your body trembled.

His cock was instantly hard. But you know he's busy and that he can't come back to fuck some sense into you, hell, it's probably why you did it. So instead, he opts to find a solution.

He pulls out his phone and then types a message to Satoru.

Go to my apartment, she's all yours 1 attachment

Satoru needs little to no persuasion and quickly turns up at your place using that spare key he never returned and heading straight up to your bedroom.

He smiles when he sees you, an eyebrow raised. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone's been having some fun without me," he says, closing the door behind him and walking towards the bed. He's already hard, his cock straining against his pants.

He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to pull the duvet down. "Now, now, don't be shy. Sugs sent me over to take care of you, and I always do what he asks." His voice is low and smooth, his blue eyes shining in the light.

He inches closer, his hand dipping under the blankets to grasp your thigh. "Besides, I know how much you love my cock. And I've been dying to get my hands on you again." He smirks.

You roll your eyes, acting annoyed. "Wanted my boyfriend, not his little puppy."

Satoru snorts, still smiling. "Oh, you're such a tease, brat. I'm not his puppy." Closer, he leans in, and his lips whisper in your ear, "Besides, he's trusting me to look after you, so show me what you've been doing."

He pulls back, but his hand doesn't leave your thigh. "Shall we get started then without him? Or perhaps I should call him now?" There is something teasing in the way Satoru sounds as he begins sliding up your inner thigh.

✧. ┊    

The phone in Suguru's pocket vibrates; Satoru's call lights up the screen. He picks it up and connects his earphones before setting it down on the workbench.

"Hey, Sug. I'm here with her," Satoru's voice comes through the line, followed by rustling fabric. "She's being a little brat, saying she wanted you, not me."

He can hear you huffing in the background. He chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, you know how to handle her, don't you?"

Suguru's eyes fall back on the car as his mind strays to the sounds through the phone. He can almost see Satoru's hands on your body, his cock hard and ready for you, like he always is. The way he'd tease you, how you'd plead, how Satoru would whine—lost in his own pleasure.

"Well, then, make sure she's satisfied, because I can't join." Suguru says, his voice low and husky with desire. Satoru puts the phone to the side on loud speaker as he leans in to kiss you.

Suguru's cock throbs in his pants at the sound of you and Satoru through the phone. He could hear sounds of the kissing, rustling of fabric as the clothes are removed, he imagines Satoru touching all over your body, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Fuck, Satoru," he groans, not being able to get himself off at the moment. Nobody else is at the workshop but he's not taking that risk, so he just listens as he works. "Don't keep her waiting," Suguru says into the phone, his voice low.

Satoru slides his hand between your legs, and he grins, feeling your wetness. His fingers slide into you, and you gasp and arch your back. He looks at the phone. "She's so wet and ready for me, Suguru. I think she's been missing your cock, huh?" Satoru's voice dripped with lust as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

"You're going to have to make do with mine, though." Satoru grins down at you as he lays down on the bed, kissing up your thighs before diving into your pussy.

Suguru can hear the moans and whimpers that came from you, and his stomach was hard in his pants. He is relieved Satoru was taking care of you, but he couldn't help the thought of wanting to be the one to fill you up.

"I'll make sure she's satisfied, Suguru," Satoru vows, his voice husky with desire. "Might even start preferring me to you."

"Never." you say, lightly smacking Satoru.

Satoru chuckled, a smile on his face as he went back to eating you out. "Oh, yeah? We'll see about that." He said, his tongue flicking against your clit.

Suguru's smirk at your denial is proud. He absolutely loves how loyal you are to him, even though you're here with Satoru. He would make it up to you when he gets home and show you just how much better he is.

Satoru's tongue swirls around your clit, sucking and licking, and you squirm and moan at the sensations. "Mmm, you taste so good. Bet Suguru's jealous as hell right now," Satoru purrs, his breath hot on your sensitive flesh.

He pulls back, his chin glistening with your juices, "Hey, Sug, listen to this pretty pussy—all wet and ready for me."

Satoru dives back in, his tongue going deep inside of you as his nose presses against your clit.

Suguru groans at the sound, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. "That video you sent was so fucking hot. Seeing you on that dildo, fuck, it made me so bloody hard. It's not fair to send it when I can't come see you though, is it?" says Suguru in a low tone.

He could hear the muffled moans from Satoru as he ate you out, the wet sounds of his tongue sliding through your folds. Suguru's cock twitched at the idea of joining you two, burying himself deep inside you.

"Make her cum, Satoru," he demanded, the harshness in his voice spiking with desire. "I want to hear her scream for you."

Knowing that, Satoru tries even a bit harder now. His tongue lashed on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you. He could feel you clenching around him, tensing up, your orgasm nearing. Satoru swipes his tongue along your folds as his fingers glide in and out to hit that spot inside you.

Your orgasm was building, tension welling in your body. Satoru's lips were on your clit, sucking hard as his tongue flicked against it. Your hips bucked off the bed as your moans grew louder, more desperate. Satoru's hands had to hold you down to stop you squirming away.

"Sugs- I think I'm going to have to keep her for myself," Satoru teases, his voice thick with lust as his tongue moves through your folds.

Satoru's tongue doesn't stop. His fingers are back, pumping in and out of you, while his lips suck on your clit. You can feel yourself getting close.

"Come on, baby," Satoru presses, his voice muffled against your pussy. "Cum for me. I want to taste you. Let him hear how good I am."

Suguru groaned at the sound of you, close to your climax. "That's it, baby. Cum for him. Let me hear you."

He sucked hard on your clit, fingers curling inside, and that was enough. Waves of your orgasm crashed over you from head to toe. Your body shook as you cried out in pleasure.

Satoru licks up your juices as his tongue swirls over your clit while you come. He backs up a bit, looking down at you with a grin on his face, his face slick from your cum. "I could eat this pretty pussy all day," he moans, his voice laden with lust.

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "I bet you could, you little insatiable bastard. But she needs your cock now, don't you think?" He can hear you whimpering, your body still trembling from your orgasm.

Suguru's cock throbs with every pulsation at the thought, pissed he can't be there to see you.

Satoru smirked as he hurriedly undressed. He reached for his wallet and pulled the the condom out and tore it open, rolling it down his hard length.

"Beg for it." he murmurs, his voice suddenly deep and husky. "Beg me to fuck you."

Suguru groans at the sound, his cock throbbing in his pants. "Tell him what you want, baby."

"As if I'd beg you, pretty boy," you tease, since you know the nickname drives him mad.

Satoru smirks at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, so that's how it is," he says in a pulled-away breath, "I don't know how he deals with you."

Suguru's lips curled at the edges and he chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I handle her just fine. She just likes to be a little difficult." He could hear you huffing in annoyance, though he knew you were just teasing. "Come on, baby," Suguru soothed, his voice low, seductive. "I know you want him. I can hear it in your voice."

Satoru grins and leans down, lips brushing against yours as his tongue slides into your mouth, his cock grinding against you in a torturous tease of what you could possibly have.

"Just say please," Satoru purrs against your lips. "A nice pretty please and I'll let you have it."

"I'm not going to say-"

His hand comes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging ever so slightly as Satoru demands in a low voice, "Say it.".

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn't deny the burn that now lay in them. "Ugh fine-" you sighed, "Please, toru? Please can you fuck me?" you asked with a scowl, though the lust behind your eyes showed differently.

Satoru grins, his eyes dark with hunger, as he positions his cock at your entrance. He doesn't hold back, too desperate to feel you. In one powerful motion, he stuffs you full, to which you gasp and arch off the bed as he bottoms out inside you.

"Good girl," he praises low and possessively, drawing back to let his cock slide from you only to plunge into you once more.

Satoru's thrusts, deep and powerful, his cock stretching you wide open, filling you in a way that the dildo couldn't. He began to set a punishing rhythm, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed back into you again.

The way he fills you is intoxicating—every slap of his balls against your ass, every growl of your name, holding onto your hips and trying to keep control.

A shiver runs down your spine with each thrust. He changes the angle again to repeatedly hit that sweet spot, which makes you moan loud enough for Suguru to hear. He's big and being filled up to this degree is breath-taking.

Suguru groans at the sound of your moans. His cock in his pants throbs. "Fuck-," he says, his voice hoarse with desire. "Love hearing you moan like that for him."

Satoru grins back, his hips smacking up against yours. "That's it, baby. Let him hear exactly what he's missing." He bends down lower, his teeth raking at your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark that he know Suguru will love and hate at the same time.

You moan, your nails digging into his back, encouraging him on. Satoru's cock brushes against all of those spots inside you, and it feels heavenly. It's not quite like anything else, full, stretched in a way that seems to ache, but in a good way. Of course, nothing like your boyfriend but you can't deny he's good at what he does.

Suguru breathes heavily, having forgotten about the car he's working on, just focusing on the phone. "You're such a good girl, taking his cock so well," he praises in a thick voice. "I can't wait to get back, to feel you wrapped around me."

Satoru chuckles as his thrusts grow harder, faster. "Well, you're going to have to wait your turn- I'm not done with her yet." He starts slowing his thrusts as he feels his pleasure rising and his cock twitching inside you. "Fuck, baby. You're gonna make me come," he grunts. His voice is thick with desire as his whines fill the room because his cock is so sensitive at every movement of your walls.

Suguru's voice in his seductive, low tone as he praises you over the phone, "That's it. Such a good girl. You're doing so well, taking his cock like that. I'll reward you later."

Satoru's thrusts speed up, his grip on your waist getting tighter as he chases his release. "You're so lucky I put a condom on, Sug." he growled, his cock throbbing inside you. "Jus' wan' fill this pretty pussy up." he groans, biting down on your shoulder.

Satoru's orgasm was close, he could feel it, the tension rising with every thrust. Your own approaching even quicker, encouraged by his moans and Suguru's sweet praise.

Satoru's thrusts become more insistent, his hips jerking forward into yours with a fierce, almost animalistic energy. His cock pulses inside, the head most surely swelling in preparation to burst. "Fuck, Sug, I'm close," Satoru growled in his tightened voice of lust.

His thrusts become falter, as his movements become sloppier. "Cum for me, baby," Satoru groans, his voice so low and hungry. "Wanna hear you moan my name."

Your orgasm crashes down, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your pussy clenches around Satoru's cock, milking him for all he's worth. "Fuck Toru!" you let out a cry of his name, your body arching off the bed at hitting that peak.

"Fuuck-" he whines, his cock throbbing as he follows you over the edge. His hips stutter, cock pulsing with his cum as it fills the condom. He collapses on top of you, energy vibrating through his frame from the release.

"God, you feel so good," Satoru pants, pushing his forehead against yours as he comes down from his high. He stays inside you, savouring the aftershocks.

Suguru doesn't hang up, still on the line and hearing your pleasure sounds as his own cock throbs torturously in his pants. "Such a good girl."

Satoru slowly pulls out, slipping the condom off his cock with a wet pop. He disposes of it and then climbs back onto the bed, lying beside you as he pulls you into his embrace.

Suguru's voice is tender, his praise soft and gentled in your ear. "You did good, sweetheart."

Satoru chuckles, nuzzling your neck. "I can sweet talk her, don't worry." he teases, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

Suguru laughs, shaking his head. "I'm sure you can, toru. But I want to hear her voice, know she's okay."

You smile, your voice soft and sleepy, as you reply, "I'm okay, Sug. More than okay. Toru was great. I'm just sleepy now and I miss you." you yawn.

Suguru chuckled, his voice was warm and affectionate. "I bet you do, baby. Why don't you catch a nice nap with Satoru, and I'll wake you guys up once I get back?"

You murmur your agreement, feeling your eyes grow heavy already.

Satoru kisses the top of your head, then pulls you closer. "Don't work too hard, I'll look after her." Satoru reassures Suguru as he ends the call, his eyes closing as he leans into you.

୨୧ Kento Nanami - dad's best friend

Nanami's eyes widened as he stared at the picture you sent him earlier, depicting you in lingerie. His heart raced, his pulse quickened, and his breathing grew shallow. The image of you in that revealing outfit played in his mind, leaving him aching for more.

He knew it was wrong to entertain such thoughts, especially when you were his best friend's daughter. But the temptation was too great to ignore. The line had blurred, and Nanami found himself craving the warmth of your body and the feel of your touch.

A sense of guilt plagued him, but he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty you exuded. The thought of you wearing such lingerie for him sent a thrill down his spine, and he found himself powerless to resist.

With a heavy heart, he responded to your message, inviting you to his house. He knew he was opening a Pandora's box, but he couldn't bring himself to deny the desires that consumed him. Nanami steeled himself, preparing for the consequences that would inevitably follow.

His heart raced as he heard the knock on his door, and he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He knew this was a path he shouldn't have taken, but the allure of being with you was too strong to resist.

He opened the door, his gaze immediately drawn to you. You looked even more stunning in person, wearing a pretty dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. Nanami's eyes lingered on you for a moment before he cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"Please, do come in," he said, moving aside to grant you entry. His heart was pounding while you moved past him; the smell of your perfume invaded his nostrils.

Nanami couldn't help but be struck by your beauty. You looked beautiful in your dress, your hair was stunning and in your eyes, something mischievous gleamed. He knew he was playing with fire, but the temptation was too great to resist.

He brushed against you, making contact that sent jolts of electricity through his body. He had to fight the urge to pull you closer. "I'm glad you could make it," he said, his voice low and husky. "I've been looking forward to seeing you all day."

He reached out and brushed some hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The touch was electric, and Nanami felt a surge of desire course through him. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away—not when you were so close, so tantalizing.

"I heard the business deal was a success, my Dad told me." you say

Nanami's eyes widened slightly at the mention of your father, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, engaging in a forbidden relationship with his best friend's daughter. But the temptation was too great to resist.

He stepped closer to you, his hand finding its way to your waist. "Yes, the deal went well," he said, his voice low and husky. "But I must admit, my thoughts have been... elsewhere today."

His gaze drifted over your body, taking in every curve and contour. Nanami felt a surge of desire, a need to touch you, to feel your skin against his.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've been thinking about you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "About the picture you sent me. About the way you look in that lingerie."

His hand slid lower, cupping your ass and pulling you against him. He could feel the heat of your body, the way your breasts pressed against his chest. Nanami knew he was crossing a line, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when you were so close, so willing.

"You shouldn't send pictures like that to someone like me." Nanami says lowly as his eyes meet yours.

"Why not?"

Nanami's grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable. "Because I'm far too tempted to act on it," he said, his voice thick with desire. "I'm a man, and you're a beautiful woman. Mix that in with the fact that you're the daughter of my best friend. It's a recipe for disaster."

He felt his heart pound, his body begging for more. Nanami knew it was wrong. He knew this would tear apart his friendship, nothing he could do would heal the damage it'd cause.

Yet, in your eyes, he saw the very same need staring back. A fight he knew he had no hope of winning but couldn't help himself from fighting. "I shouldn't have invited you here," he whispered, lips caressing your earlobe. "But I can't seem to resist the pull."

Though his words said it, Nanami couldn't bring himself to let go of you. His hand was still cupping your ass, holding you close with his body, while the other brushed strands of hair from your face. His heart was at a torn junction of what he knew was right and what his body was crying out for.

You give in, leaning forward to kiss him. The touch of your lips to his sent shivers down Nanami's back as it became electric. The kiss was passionate, hungry, full of the desire that had been building between the two of us. Nanami's hands tightened on your waist, drawing you in closer as he deepened the kiss.

The guilt and reservations he had moments before vanished, replaced by the primal need to be with you. His heart raced, and his thoughts became a jumble of lust and longing.

Despite the knowledge of the consequences, Nanami couldn't bring himself to push you away. The pull between the two of you was too strong, and the desire too great. For now, he would allow himself to indulge in the forbidden, to savour the moment before the harsh reality of their situation came crashing down.

Nanami's breath caught in his throat as he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "That picture you sent me," he said, his voice low and husky. "It was the most erotic thing I've ever seen. The way the lingerie clung to you, the colour against your skin... it was like a dream come true."

He reached out, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. About you." his hands roam.

"How many college boys got that same picture, huh?" he said darkly.

You chuckled slightly, hearing the dangerous undertone in his words. You shake your head, looking up at him, "None."

Nanami's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of possessiveness. "Is that so?" he repeated, his voice thick with lust. "No one else has the privilege of seeing you like this, huh? Just me?"

He pulled you closer, his hand cupping the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. The thought of you being all his, of having this secret between the two of them, sent a thrill down his spine. Nanami knew this was wrong, that he was betraying your father's trust, but the allure of being with you, of having this forbidden connection, was too great to resist.

His hand slid up your back, reaching for the zipper of your dress. "I want to see more," he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "I want to see everything."

Nanami's heart pounded in his chest, his body aching for you. He knew he was crossing a line, but the desire was too strong, the temptation too great. For now, he would allow himself to indulge in the forbidden, to savour the moment.

Nanami's fingers fumbled with the zipper, his heart racing as he waited for your response. He looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. If you gave him the go-ahead, he would take you straight to his bed, unable to resist the pull any longer.

His body ached for yours, and as he stared into your eyes, he saw the same desire reflected back. Nanami knew he was walking a dangerous path, but in that moment, all he could think about was being with you, of feeling your body pressed against his, of losing himself in the pleasure that awaited.

"Please-" you whispered softly.

Nanami's breath caught in his throat as you whispered your plea, and he couldn't resist any longer. His fingers finally pulled the zipper down, revealing your lingerie-clad body. Nanami's eyes widened as he took in the sight, his desire for you growing even more intense.

He pulled you closer, his lips finding yours once more as his hands roamed over your body. His fingers traced the outline of the material, the lace against your skin. Nanami's heart pounded in his chest, his body aching for more.

He lifted you into his arms bridal style and carried you towards his bedroom. The weight of your body in his arms, the feel of your soft skin against his, was intoxicating.

Once in the bedroom, he laid you gently on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. Nanami leaned in, his lips brushing against your collarbone, making their way down to your breasts. He lowered the fabric slightly, but didn’t remove it. He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as his hand caressed the soft flesh of your thigh.

Nanami's hands roamed more, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He could feel the heat of your core, the wetness that awaited him. His heart raced as he explored your body, his touch becoming more urgent with each passing moment. He knew he was crossing a line, but the temptation too great.

Nanami's voice was thick with lust as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "So fucking pretty, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers dipping into your panties, teasing your clit. "You shouldn't be here, you should be a good girl and stay away from me."

His other hand cupped your breast, squeezing gently as he leaned down to take your nipple into his mouth once more. "But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asked, his voice dark and seductive. "You're here, and you want this just as much as I do."

Nanami's fingers continued to tease, his touch becoming more insistent as he sought to drive you wild. 

"Can you stop teasing me, jus' wanna get fucked by you." you whine, squirming slightly under his touch.

Nanami's hand slid down to your panties, his fingers teasing your clit through the damp fabric. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "You want me to slide my cock deep inside you and make you scream my name?"

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I want to fuck you so deep, that you'll never forget this moment. That you'll crave me every time you close your eyes. I want to take it slow, to savour it."

Nanami's fingers slipped beneath your panties, teasing your entrance. "But not tonight... I can't spend too much time," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I have a celebratory dinner with your father later tonight, and I can't be late."

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "So, I'm going to have to make this quicker than I’d like," he said, his voice thick with lust. "But I'll make it up to you, I swear."

He quickly unbuckled his pants, freeing his hard cock. Nanami stroked himself a few times, his eyes never leaving your body. "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Nanami watched as you lowered your panties and began to finger yourself, his eyes darkened with lust. The sight of you touching yourself, preparing for him, was almost too much to bear.

He settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. Nanami leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he slowly pushed inside you. The feeling of your tight heat enveloping him was almost too much to bear, and he had to stop for a moment, savouring the sensation.

Nanami began to move, his thrusts slow and deep as he sought to bring you both to the brink of ecstasy. He knew he wouldn't last long, not with the way your body felt around him, but he wanted to make sure you came first.

Nanami's hips rocked forward, his cock sliding deep inside you. He began to set a rhythm, his thrusts slow and deep, seeking to fill you completely. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved inside you.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck as he began to suck and bite at the sensitive skin. "You feel so fucking good," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "So tight, so perfect. I could stay inside you forever."

Nanami's thrusts became more urgent, his hips snapping against yours as he drove himself deeper inside you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.Nanami's thrusts were desperate, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. 

Even as Nanami's movements became more urgent, he remained tender with you. His fingers caressed your hips, his grip firm but gentle. "That picture you sent me," he panted, his breath hot against your skin. "It turned me on like nothing else. I want more, sweetheart. I want to see you like that, all for me."

His hips began to move in a frenzy, his cock sliding in and out of you with rapid, powerful strokes. "I want to see you wearing nothing but lace, your body on display for me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Just f'me, yeah?"

Nanami's grip on your hips tightened, his body tensing as he fought to hold back his release. "Want you to be mine" he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "I want you, and I'll make sure you're taken care of, that you never want for anything."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he drove himself deep inside you. Nanami's fingers found your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in circles as he continued to thrust inside you. His lips found your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin as he sought to drive you wild with pleasure.

"Need you so fucking bad, I don't care." he says. His fingers moved faster, his touch becoming more insistent as he sought to bring you to the edge of ecstasy. His hips snapped against yours, his cock sliding deep inside you with each powerful thrust.

Nanami's breath hitched in his throat as he felt you tighten around him, the signs of your impending orgasm clear. He increased the pace of his fingers on your clit, his lips finding yours once more as he continued to thrust.

His own release was close, his body tensing with the effort to hold back. "Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I want to feel you clench around my cock."

Nanami's thrusts became more urgent, his body trembling with the force of his desire. He could feel his own climax building, the pressure in his balls growing more intense with every passing moment.

As you reached your peak, Nanami couldn't hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, he slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside your body as he came. His release spilled into you, the warmth of his seed filling you as he held you close, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

Nanami's breathing became heavy, his body still pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss. "That was amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're amazing."

Nanami's fingers traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and soothing as he held you close. He knew he should pull out, should clean up and get ready for his dinner with your father, but he couldn't bring himself to move just yet. He wanted to stay like this, with you in his arms, for just a little longer.

Nanami's hips continued to slowly rock against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your sensitive body as he savoured the afterglow. He could feel his release leaking out of you, the warmth of it coating his still-hard shaft.

Nanami's eyes fluttered closed as you kissed his forehead, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He appreciated the gentle touch as you brushed the sweat-slicked hair back from his face.

Eventually he began to pull out of you, his movements slow and careful. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as he disconnected from your body, the sensation of being inside you fading away.

Nanami leaned back, his eyes meeting yours as he pulled away from your body. "Your father won't be coming back here after the dinner," he said, his voice low and husky. "So, you can stay here, take a shower, order some food, and settle into my bed if you'd like."

He reached for a towel, gently wiping your thighs. "I'll leave you some money for the food," he added, his voice filled with a sense of protectiveness. "You can stay here as long as you want."

Nanami's eyes held yours, the desire still there, but tempered by a newfound sense of care.

He stood up, his movements smooth and graceful. "I'll get dressed and leave you to it," he said, his voice filled with a sense of reluctance. "Make yourself at home. I'll see you when I get back."

୨୧ Choso Kamo - roommate

Choso laid across the couch, scrolling his phone, as a video message popped up in his notifications. He opened it, expecting a stupid video from his friends, but the preview threw him off.

It was a video of you, his roommate, and you were doing things that made his mouth go dry. He watched, riveted, as you slipped your fingers into your panties, biting your lip as you began touching yourself.

Choso knew he should stop watching, you would've sent that by accident, he should be a good friend and delete it. But he was too captivated—so it seemed—in seeing you play with yourself as the soft moans coming from your mouth filled his ears.

Choso's eyes widened, and his heart raced as he watched the video. He just couldn't believe what he was seeing. His cock began to harden; the veins became more pronounced by the second.

The way your body moved, your chest heaving up and down with every breath, your face flushed with such desire. It was impossible not to watch. He palmed his hardening cock through his pants, trying to ignore the ache building inside him. But as your moans grew stronger and your fingers moved faster, Choso couldn't hold back anymore.

He quickly stood up and headed straight for your bedroom. He knew that he shouldn't be in here, but he just couldn't help it, he wanted to be in your presence, near you. He walked in, eyes looking around everywhere, to the bed, to the dresser, to the closet. He could smell the room, your scent, and it only made him harder.

His eyes had locked on the laundry basket in the corner of the room. He walked to it, his cock aching with anticipation. It was too late and he couldn't stop now.

He had to dig his hands into the basket of clothes until he found the material he was looking for. Grasping a pair of your panties, he held them up to his face and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent — your scent. It was heady, and he was even harder because of it.

He pulled the panties up to his mouth, unable to stop himself from licking along the damp patch. He could taste your essence, and it was so sweet—the most delicious thing in the world to him. He even let out a moan, his desire unrestrained.

He was too far gone. He needed to cum, had to release all this pent-up tension. It's your fault, you should have been more careful with those messages.

Choso laid down on your bed, feeling the softness of the mattress around him, satisfied in knowing that you sleep here every night. He adjusted himself, his cock starting to strain against his sweats. He reached into his pants and pulled his cock free. He ran his hand over it, feeling the precum dripping off the tip.

Now holding your panties in his free hand, he rubbed them over the precum on his finger and stroked himself with that too.

The image of you in the video blared in his mind again and again as he stroked himself to the memory of your moaning. The video, your smell from the panties, the thought of you being on this bed just proved to be too much for Choso. 

His free hand reached to his phone to turn the video on once more, and there you were, just the vision of your fingers buried deep in your pussy made him shiver. 

He pretended it was his fingers inside, that he could have his mouth on you, taste you for real.

He closed his eyes and imagined you were there beside him, your hands on his body, your lips against his skin. He ground his hips up into his open hand, visioning you riding him, your tits bouncing with each thrust. He'd wanted to bury his face in them, fuck you until you screamed his name.

Choso dropped the phone, noises of your moans still blaring within. He gripped at the bed sheets, using his fingers to drive down into the fabric. He could smell you in the fabric, making him even harder. He pressed his hips up, his cock brushing along his hand, and released a low moan as he felt his eyes roll back in his head at just how close he was getting to the edge.

He heard jingling keys and the front door opening. He knew that definitely meant you were home, but he just couldn't stop himself from what he was doing. He gripped at the bedsheets and stroked himself faster, his hips thrusting upwards. He could hear you in the living room now, closer now in your footsteps.

He knew he should stop, that he should hide what he was doing, but he didn't want to.

Choso's eyes locked onto yours as his breath got caught in his throat. He knows he should feel embarrassed, ashamed even, but he doesn't. Rather, he feels exhilaration at the rush of adrenaline that flares, having been caught.

He didn't stop touching himself; his hand was moving up and down his shaft. He could feel your eyes on him, but he didn't care. All he was able to focus on was the pressure building, the need to release it.

Choso watched as you walked over, your eyes falling onto the video playing on his phone. He expected you to get angry, to possibly even scream at him, or kick him out of the place but you just laughed.

You looked down at him, and for a moment, your eyes sparkled with mischief. "I see you liked the video?" you say, eyeing him as he slowly strokes his cock.

It hit Choso like an epiphany, that video was definitely sent to him on purpose by you He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe you were toying and teasing him like that.

He could feel his cock throb; he could feel the promise of pleasure about to tip over. He wanted to say something, wanted to apologise, but could find no words.

He just nodded, his eyes locked into yours. It was like your eyes were afire with the look of want. Choso's eyes never found reason to break away. You sat down on the edge of your bed as your fingers brushed across his cock. He breathed out a soft moan as his hips bucked up towards you. He felt his orgasm coming on, the pressure in his balls unbearable.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "Do you want to cum, Choso?" He nodded but couldn't string the words in a line. He wanted to finish. Wanted to cum all over your hand, these panties. He wanted you to see this, to see him release all of this pent tension.

Choso just groaned lightly then when you began softly jerking him off. Your other hand reached for his chin, and you tilted his face up so you could look into his eyes. In them, he could see the desire; he felt the warmth seeping from them at him. He wanted to lose himself in you, to bury himself in you, to be completely consumed by you.

Your hand moved faster, the grip on his cock tightening, bringing his end nearer with each stroke being sent as a lightning jolt. He wanted to cum. He wanted so desperately to just release all this pent-up tension. But also, he wanted to prolong this moment, savour the feeling of your hand on him, in case he never felt it again.

His eyes contained a demand. "Please, please," he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I have to- God- let me cum for you." His hips bucked up, grinding into your hand, looking for more friction, more pleasure.

Choso's cock twitched, the veins seeming to throb in time with every movement of your slick hand. Pre soaked the head of his cock, a testimony to how close he was to the edge.

He whimpered again, his body shaking at being brought closer and closer. He wanted to cum so badly, here with you, it was like one of his fantasies coming to life.

Choso breathed heavily, his moans louder as the speed of your hand increased. His fingers laced with yours, as he tried to stay close to you, eyes on your every movement. He wanted to be yours in this moment. He knew he was only moments away from being unable to hold back.

Choso quivered and whined as your hand tightened around his cock. Every stroke, caress, and touch spread waves of pleasure through his body. His skin flushed with desire; his heart fluttering in his chest.

He lent into you, inhaled your scent as his eyes drifted closed momentarily. He felt that when he was with her, he could feel safe enough to just be vulnerable. It felt as though you could see him, the real him, behind that cold distant version of himself that everyone else saw.

He was losing it, and he was falling, but he didn't give a damn. He just needed it. He needed to be yours, completely and utterly.

Choso clung to you as his eyes rolled back slightly, his orgasm ripping through him. His cock pulsing in your hand, as he shot out thick ropes of cum. A loud moan erupted from him, his body shaking. He was weightless, floating as he rode the waves of pleasure.

You never stopped your hand from making those slow, consistent strokes, milking him for every last drop. He felt your warm caress encase him, your scent pervading his senses. It seemed as if he could stay in this moment forever: lost in your touch, lost in your very presence.

Choso's body lay limp from the orgasm that wrenched through him, his chest heaving for air. Some kind of pleasure-hazed, love-drunk look on his face and his mouth curling into a self-satisfied grin.

He reached up as his hand cupped your cheek. "That was incredible," he whispered; his voice was hoarse from moans. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, "Thank you."

He should have been ashamed at letting you see him like that, but he wasn't. He felt thankful, felt he had been given a gift, a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"You're such a perv." you joke, ruffling his hair.

Choso laughed again, his hand still cupping your cheek. "Guilty as charged," he said. His voice was still hoarse, post orgasm. He leaned in, kissing you gently, as if afraid you might break.

He pulled back, his eyes holding yours "But you're the one who sent me the video," he accused, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

"So, who's the real perv here?"

୨୧ Sukuna Ryomen - sugar daddy

Sukuna's eyes land on the screen of his phone, a message from you popping up. A picture of you in a raunchy lingerie set, one that you’d purchased with his card, a sight that instantly had him swallowing, adam’s apple bobbing.

He had been in his office, preparing for a meeting, and the sight of you in that lingerie set had him hard. It was a sight that he came to relish, to want more of. The thought of your soft skin and the way you would entwine your legs around him, the way you would moan his name, had him biting his lip.

Sukuna's hand darted down to his crotch, adjusting the bulge that was now evidently showing in his trousers. He couldn't leave the room, not in his current state. There was a meeting in half an hour and he needed this to go as soon as possible.

He grits his teeth, his hand working over his cock through his trousers. He needs to hear your voice, needs to have you talk to him. He didn't even think about it, just dialled your number, the phone ringing in his hands.

"Pick up." His voice was low and husky, his breathing heavy as he waited for your response. He needed you, needed to hear you. "I need to hear your voice."

You pick up the call and giggle, the sound sending a shiver down Sukuna's spine. He'd grown to love that sound, to crave it.

"You're wearing that for me, aren't you?" He growls, a low and dark sound. He'd always been dangerous, but with you, he felt something different. He felt...calmer. It was a strange feeling, one that he didn't want to lose.

"Tell me what you're doing right now, doll." His voice is low and seductive, the tone one that would make anyone weak at the knees. His breathing hitches, as he undoes his belt, tugging his trousers and boxers down a little so he could free his cock. He wanted to know every detail, to imagine your hands on your body as he worked his own cock. He needed to hear your voice, to hear your thoughts. He needed to know that you were thinking about him, about pleasing him.

You give in, running him through everything, the reasoning for the lingerie, what other sets you bought. You told him what you were thinking about, how you were touching yourself in this moment.

Sukuna's eyes widened at your words, his hand working faster over his cock. The thought of you touching yourself on your bed, thinking of him, had him groaning. He could almost imagine it, your soft hands roaming over your body, your fingers dipping into your pussy. The thought had him biting down on his lip, his eyes closing as he imagined it.

"Fuck, doll." He growls, his voice low and husky. "Tell me more. I want to hear every detail."

His hand works faster, his cock throbbing with need. He needed to know that you were thinking of him. He had always been such a selfish man, but with you, he felt so different. He wanted to please you, make you feel good. Though he was definitely still greedy and possessive, wanting you all to himself.

"Tell me what you're thinking about." He drawls, and his hand starts moving a little faster. He needed to know that you desired him, craved him, just as much as he did with you.

Sukuna waits, his hand working faster. The sound of his pants straining was loud in his ears, the need to release building.

"I'm thinking about you, Sukuna." Your voice is soft, breathy, the sound causing him to groan. "I'm thinking about how you'll fuck me when you come over, how you'll take me in a way that no one else can."

Sukuna could imagine it: your soft voice, your body trembling as you touched yourself. He could feel the way you would writhe under him, the way you would moan his name.

"I'm thinking about your cock, how it fills me up." You go on, your voice husky. "I want to feel you inside of me, hear you groan my name as you cum."

The sounds of you pleasuring yourself fill his ears; what gets to him is the thought of you touching yourself while you spoke of him, and Sukuna bites down on his lip.

"Sukuna..." Your voice hitches, the sound causing him to groan. "I want you to fuck me." The combination of how you sounded and you wanting him was almost too much. Sukuna could feel his release building, his hand working faster over his cock.

Sukuna's grip tightens on his phone as he hears you, the sound of your soft moans and the wet noises of you touching yourself over the phone. He can't help but imagine you, your fingers dipping into your wet heat, your body trembling as you think of him.

His breathing hitches, his hand working faster and faster over his cock. He can feel the release building, the need to cum threatening to drown him.

With a low growl, Sukuna bites down on his lip, his hips rocking in time with his hand. The room around him fades, the only thing that exists is the sound of your voice, your moans, the thought of you touching yourself for him.

Sukuna's cock is thick and veiny, pulsing in his hand as he strokes it. The head is a deep pink, desperate for release. His hand works faster, the pre-cum slicking his palm as he nears his climax.

The thought of you, the sounds of you touching yourself, has him groaning, his hips rocking with every stroke. His grip tightens, his muscles tensing as he feels the release building. He can't help but imagine it, your soft and wet cunt, the way you'd moan his name as he thrust into you.

"I want to spoil you, baby." He growls, his breathing heavy. "I want to shower you with gifts, to make you mine." He wanted to own, to claim, you for his own—it was an insane thought, one he could usually throw to the side, but with you, he found himself wanting. He wanted to look after you, treat you like the precious gem you are.

His work phone started to ring, but Sukuna didn't care. All his hand did was speed up on his cock and not stop or pull away from the sound of your voice and thinking about you touching yourself for him.

His grip tightened, his hips rocking along with his strokes. He could feel the release building, his need to cum threatening to drown him.

"I can't wait to see you, angel." He growls, his voice low and husky. "I want to taste you, to feel you under me as I claim you."

The thought of you, the sound of your moans, has him groaning, his hand working faster. He can't stop, can't pull away from the thought of you, from the sound of your voice. Sukuna bites down on his lip, his hips rocking as he nears his release. It's building, he can feel it, and the need to cum is going to consume him.

Sukuna's breathing catches at your words; his grip on the phone tightens as the sounds of your moaning and wet noises from touching yourself drive him closer to the edge.

He can do nothing but plead, his voice hoarse, desperate. "Need to hear your voice to cum, it's an addiction." His purr was low, very low—a feeling almost that one swore one felt deep in their chest, lulling one into a false sense of security. He was dangerous but with you, gentle, at least to the surface.

You can hear the need in his voice, the desperation, and you know that you're holding within your hands the power to send him over the edge. You release a soft moan as you continue touching yourself. Your voice causes Sukuna's skin to shiver with goosebumps.

"I want you to fill me up, to claim me as your own." Your voice is soft, seductive, the words causing him to groan. "Cum for me, let me hear you."

His grip tightens, his hips rocking faster as he nears his release. The sound of your voice, the thought of you touching yourself, pushes him over the edge. He can't hold back any longer, his cock pulsing in his hand as he reaches that sweet release.

"Shit, angel." He groans, his voice low and filled with desire. "Should've thought about my suit before doing this."

His cum spurts from the tip of his cock, coating his hand and trousers as he lets out a low, satisfied groan. It was an intense release, the best he's ever had with just his hand. Just thinking about you, the sound of your voice, he shuddered, breathing heavily as the aftershocks of his orgasm sent a shiver running down his spine.

The sound of your moans and the wet noises of you touching yourself continue to ring in Sukuna's ears as you cum. The sound of your pleasure, filled him with a need to hold you, to claim you.

You both cum, the release intense, the thought of each other pushing you to new heights. The sounds of your pleasure, the thought of you both finishing, had Sukuna breathing heavily, his hand still wrapped around his now softening cock.

The silence fills the line, both of you catching your breath, the sounds of your breathing heavy in each other's ears. "Gonna take you out to lunch as soon as this boring meeting's done, it's on me. Wear something pretty" he says as he tries to wipe up.

You breathe heavily, the afterglow of your orgasm still washing over you as Sukuna speaks, the thought of him buying you lunch making you smile.

"I'll wear something pretty for you, Sukuna." You reply, your voice soft and sultry. "I can't wait to see you." The thought of him, has you trembling, the aftershocks of your orgasm still sending shivers down your spine.

"Thank you for the call, baby, I needed that." Sukuna’s voice is filled with gratitude, making you feel cherished.

"Just make sure to behave for the next few hours, f'me, yeah?"

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated & it makes me smile <3

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[mcondance]

bubble pop electric ｡𖦹° spencer reid

18+ backseat sex duhhhh, afab!reader but no terms like ‘girl,’ just female anatomy, spencer’s fingers make an appearance again wowww, reader is in his lap, 1 direct hozier quote sue me, i’m still working on my writing style which isn’t important i just wanted to note that. you can listen to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani if you wanna feel the vibes, a bit unfinished i guess but i didn’t know where else to take it

tonight i’m gonna give you all my love in the backseat

the shuffling of clothes is almost the loudest thing in the car, only beat out by you and spencer’s heavy breathing and pounding hearts.

your whines and moans slip straight into his mouth— the two of you seem to have forgotten what it even means to separate from the other. you give him perfect notes like he’s playing you from the inside out. your kisses are all sloppy, unfocused and focused at the same time, spit-swapping between the two of you, his groans vibrating in his chest and into your mouth.

he curls his fingers up to kiss that spot inside you so deliberately your mind blanks, and you’re conflicted on what to focus on. his lips, or his fingers, or his sounds, or all of it at once.

yeah, all of it at once sounds great.

“you’re so pretty,” he confesses after one kiss and before another. he pauses for a second, to look. you’re so beautiful above him. the white light of the street lamps shines in through the car windows and illuminates your skin. you glow obscenely beautifully, so beautiful his brown eyes get glossy in awe.

he kisses you again, and you kiss him back like you’re begging for it. you’re always begging for it, always wanting to be wrapped up in his lips and sliding your tongue against his all messy.

you think you know insanity, that you’re as fucked as you can be right now, but that’s until through one loud pass and another you pick up the sound of the slipping and sliding of his fingers. your cunt sings out into the car and he breaks the kiss to shoot his eyes down between your legs, watching wide-eyed the lewd display you two have created.

how lewd it is.

he breathes raggedly, all keyed up. he can feel his blood boiling hot with how turned on he is.

it doesn’t take long for him to slip his fingers out of you and for the both of you to fumble with your buttons and clothes and zippers.

spencer’s nothing if not disgusting— he can’t help but rub his cock through your wetness, pupils dilating even bigger as he watches you cover him in sticky slick. its heavenly and horribly filthy all at the same time, how he taps it against your clit, softly, huffing out a laugh when you jump a little above him. the whine that leaks out of your throat is met with a hum of his own, a little sound of admiration.

spencer laughs when he sinks in. your whine is so melodic he finally tears his eyes from your cunt to your face, and god, he’s so fucking glad he did. your eyebrows are turned down, nose scrunched and lips pressed together. your eyes, hazy as they lock with his.

looking up at you is how he wants to fuck you always (at least, until he fucks you another way, it always changes). his hands find your waist and they dig in a little, slowly guiding you on his cock.

fuck.

a groan from spencer’s slack lips is what breaks the hanging silence in the car. the hypnosis that grips you both is shattered and his honest sound makes the heart between your legs pound and jump and you bring hips down on him just a little harder.

“oh my god,” he moans into your chest, his cheek rubbing against your shirt. “shit.” he’s rarely ever reduced to expletives to express himself, but when his hands are digging into your waist and you’re grinding on his lap like sin, he can’t find anything else to say.

you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him, desperately, closer. lines have faded and been crossed and fucking in the backseat of a car shouldn’t feel this soft, but it does. your soft whines and moans and his earnest groans smooth out the rough edges of the circumstance, and leave sweetness in their wake. but its still lewd. it’s still sensual. he’s still fucking up into you, the sound of you two rubbing against each other still swirls in the car, he’s still cursing against your chest.

exhilaration flows through you. you and spencer never take anything too serious, especially with each other, and to be pulled over in his backseat, fogging up the windows and probably making the car shake, is what you and spencer do. it’s on-brand; of course you’d get so turned on you’d have no choice but to take it to the backseat.

it’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened, though. and it’ll happen again.

[emacrow]

Orphan's baby

Cass was in the middle of helping the Batfam along with Batman raids through the the hidden base they had found underground lab in an abandoned hospital messing with a neon verison of lararus pits liquid.

Red Robin had already adjacked the security and was going through the files with Spoiler. Nightwing and Red hood beating up the guards while batman was battling with the main boss behind it all.

She was with Robin as they were taking some samples and destroying the remaining ones.

She had already crack through most of seemingly important hidden rooms that seem to be hiding completely full with containers full of lararus pits with tags of PH4N70M, and a winter blue colored marble in a container sealed to the safe that was spelling out electricity every minute in the container.

It looked important, but why a marble..?

She broke the container holding the marble, taking most of the lararus pits containers as well while destroying the remaining unaware of the glow that pulsed in the marble.

By the time is was to retreat, everything was in the clear as Spoiler needed to unscramble hidden files that were behind multiples firewalls.

They were at the batcave when they were securing the containers of lararus pits for later sampling, only for the marble to be missing..?

She was sure that she place it in her bat waist pouch, but it wasn't there anymore..

Did she dropped it accidentally while collecting the containers of larausu pits?

It was already too late to check back now, so she decided not to tell anyone yet.

Until 2 months later, she started feeling downright sick nauseated. Right after Dinner of Alfred's infamous lasagna Tuesday, but.. it tasted a bland which was throwing her off completely.

She was only dropping down by the batcave to just self analysis herself.. only to stop walking half way the secure containement holding all the lararus pits that they brought back..

She couldn't stop herself from staring at it with vast hunger before the swirl of neon green filling her vision and blank her conscience out the window..

Only to wake up in her room on her bed, 3 empty containers with not a inch of lararus pits left inside as if it was wiped-or licked clean. She hide the containers under her bed and stood quiet later on as nobody had noticed yet what she had done.

She doesn't know what had happen, but the nausea and sick feeling went away as if nothing happen.

Hopefully it would be a one time thing...

Bruce and his long lines of lawyers had disbanded the GIW completely over the illegal experimentally on sentient aliens of another world which they tried to label them as ghosts until they tried to accused Superman of being one of them which quickly label their entire Government supported work as hate crime and was steady being searched, along finding a couple of missing traumatized teens, adults and children that had vanished the months before in the other hidden labs.

...

....

.....

She had her head in her hands as she silently groaned when she peak her eyes between her fingers to see several dozen empty containers and immediately close her eyes to try and pretend she didn't see them.

It only been 5 months since that incident and she had seemingly got away with it, but then nausea came back with vengeance like no other, and the increased appetite was new, but yet it didn't filled her belly with the bland taste or satisfaction even though she did felt a bit feint during the couple of night patrols despise feeling energized earlier.

Something was wrong and she know it as she went to the only person who could help her right now.

She went to Alfred straight away silently explaining the situation going on because she honestly have no idea was going on with her and she know she loves his food, and the feint spells, and the monsterous appetite and the insatiable need to swallow a crapton of lararus pits with twelve milkshakes and fourteen bags full bat burgers.

Alfred could only stared with his eyebrows raising slowly with every word spilling out of her mouth.

Alfred helped her get examined in the batcave medbay, and 2 hours later the blood result came in.

Case was pregnant, but It was a almost cryptic pregnancy.

Alfred didn't had the equipment out for a ultrasound at all yet, but from he know from Cass it was during the Raiding of that hidden lab and her being in contacted with this 'marble' that seemingly disappeared after she grabbed it.

That was 7 months ago, but luckily Alfred caught it in time before it literally became a cryptic pregnancy.

Oh the ultrasounds pics of the little baby fetus with his fast beating lil heart beating were precious as he got tiny misty eyes a bit compare to Cass's awestruck look staring at the screen then back at her belly.

He does help get extra vitamins pills, and call her off of Crime duty until further noticed . Bruce on the otherhand was concerned but all he got from Alfred was the You Better not investigate this because I have major blackmail of embarrassing toddler photos against you.

This is Alfred moment that he been waiting for since Bruce became a new adult but not yet sired a baby at the Wayne Manor at all. He is savoring this for the memories and scapebooking time. He is cranking opened that forgotten but clean baby nursery of forlorning hopes.

2 months later, By the time Cass was ready to deliver the baby on February 11, and at February 12th, 12:01am.

Wren Alf Cain was born premature yet crying softly into the word.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Coming up with the idea to take Simon out so that he can pick out a couple pieces of lingerie he wants to see you in, his choices really surprise you.

Request from here.

The minute you brought up the idea, Simon was on board, ready to dish out whatever money he needed to spoil his princess. It seemed like a win-win: you get new lingerie and he gets the benefit of picking out a few items that only he would get to see you in. How could he ever say no to something like that?

The first day you were both off you headed out to the local mall, ready to go on a different kind of mission, one that already had Simon salivating and itching to finish so you both could get back with the items in hand. You did promise that as soon as you got home you’d model them for him and there was no doubt what would inevitably come next.

Walking into the Victoria’s Secret all 6’4” of Simon drew a few stares, but he didn’t care; he was focused on you just as he was any time you two went anywhere. Arms wrapped around your middle to hold your back against his chest as you both slowly made your way through the store.

“Remember, it’s what you want to see me in,” you reiterated the rules for this excursion.

“Best believe I remembered, luv,” he said, his gravely voice hitting you ear just right to make you shiver with anticipation. “Haven’t been able to think of fuck all else since you brought it up, but I think that was your fuckin’ plan.”

You passed by several things that you were sure he would have picked up, you did say anything so nothing was off limits and that included whatever string number he may want to strap you in. The point was to get him excited to chose the bit of wrapping he wanted around his present, not that he needed it. He’d take you in a trash bag and still think you were the hottest piece of tail around.

A severe lack of Simon around your body broke you out of your thoughts as he had let you go to walk over to a display off to the left of you. The way he locked on, it was clear something had caught his eye and you followed him over just as he picked up a bra and pantie set and handed them over to you.

Baby pink with a bit of delicate lace lining the top of the cups, a tiny silken bow in the middle along the rib band and the same matching bikini style panties that had a slightly larger bow on the back, that was his choice. It was very sweet and dainty, something a very soft girl would pick for herself.

“Really? This one?” you questioned, eyebrow raised curiously.

“You said to pick one I liked,” he said. “I like this one. Is that a problem, sweetheart?”

It wasn’t a bad choice at all, just surprising. Never would you have imagined Simon pick something so...quaint. In fact you were sure he would have gone straight for the string thongs or see-thru lace bras, so when he chose that one it caught you off guard.

“Not at all, just didn’t think you liked that sort of style,” you backpedaled, not wanting him to think he screwed up.

“I can like pretty shit too, luv. After all, I chose you, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “This is what I want to see coverin’ across that sweet arse of yours... well, until I get to admire it layin’ on my floor.”

Your cheeks flushed bright red. Fuck, how did he always do that? “I was the one that did the choosing,” you pushed the subject as you tried to dissipate the heat in your face.

“Oh, is that so?” he shot back coolly, moving back in close to take your chin in his firm grasp. “The one that still gets nervous probably wasn’t the one callin’ the fuckin’ the shots. Don’t force me to make that blush brighter just to prove my point, luv.”

Touche, he had won this round; you knew he would too, screw being in public. He wasn’t afraid of people staring as they had been staring at him his whole life, might well enjoy himself while he drew the eyes. You gave in and backed down, receiving a quick peck on your lips for your troubles.

“Now, let me finish my shoppin’ so that we can get outta here and get to the actual fun part,” he said with a smirk.

Lord, he was insatiable. That man could have your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and still be hungry for more.

Going through the rest of the place another similar set he found after a bit more of searching, this one a pale yellow with a little silk flower in the same places the bow was on the first set. He handed over everything over to you so that you could double check the sizes and make sure it was correct before he took it back so that he could pay.

Always the gentleman to his girl.

That large palm was plastered to your inner thigh the entire drive back and every now and again he gave it a squeeze. His mind raced as his imagination ran wild with images of what you’d look like in his purchases: beautiful? Always, but these pieces were more delicate than the others you had and so he was curious to see just how pretty you’d look in them.

“You ready?” you asked through the door.

Once you got back, you left him sitting in his chair as you went off into the bathroom to get changed. He had chosen the yellow to go first, saving his real favorite for last. As you slipped everything around your curves, you had to admit that it was actually really cute and surprisingly not too uncomfortable as well.

Good job baby.

“Get out here now, beautiful girl,” he called back.

Opening the door slowly, you stepped out and sauntered your way to him, stopping just shy of the tips of his boots. Placing your hands behind your back, you stood twisting your body back and forth as you let him admire his choice.

Silently Simon eyed you up and down, taking you all in. “Well?” you asked after a moment.

Eyes came back up to meet your own. “Do a spin for me, darlin’,” he said, making a spinning motion with his index finger. “Slow like.”

Turning around smoothly at a steady pace, you came all the back around until you were facing him again. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked to your body.

“What’s the verdict?” you asked again.

The corner of his mouth unturned. “I’ve got good taste,” he smirked. “Exactly what I fuckin’ wanted. You look amazing, sweetheart.”

His approval made you smile, excited that he liked it, even though you knew he would since he was the one to pick it out. That obsessive stare gave you new life; who wouldn’t want to be the object of Simon’s desire? “Should I try on the other one now?”

Simon nodded his head as he adjusted the crotch of his pants and you scurried back off to the bathroom to change, fueled by his intense interest in you.

The pink on slipped on just as easy and you actually enjoyed this one even more as it enhanced your skin tone to perfection and the little details were so sweet you knew why this one would be his favorite; you could hardly wait to go show him how good you looked.

Coming back out again you nearly ran straight into him as this time he was leaning against the door frame as if waiting for you. He didn’t say a word, but you swore you could hear his breath hitch in his chest as he gazed down at you in that soft little pink number. Calloused fingers came up to trace over the thin ribbon detail, following the curves of the mini bow in the center of your chest.

“This one I really fuckin’ like, sweetheart,” he purred in that gruff, low tone that set you alight.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing in your veins already. “I have to admit you did really good baby,” you said. “Never thought you’d pick something so pretty.”

Fingers traced the line of the band under your breast along your ribcage before they came back up. “Like you in pretty, sweet things,” he said, slipping a thick finger into the top of the band between the cups. “Bows and flowers, light colors, that sort of shit. Suits you best, luv.”

“Aww,” you picked at him. “You going soft on me?”

That finger fully hooked itself into the fabric between your breasts and pulled you forward, making you take a step to bring you in closer until you were flush against his chest. Those amber eyes shimmered as he tilted his head down close to your neck. “All the shit I’ve to deal with at work, don’t ya wanna give this bastard somethin’ beautiful to touch?”

Well, when he put it like that…how could you deny him?

“My pretty little thing, so goddamn sweet,” he said with a groan, exploring hands releasing your bra so that they could run down the line of your back towards your hips before coming to a stop just under the curve of your ass. He cupped the cheeks one in each hand, massaging the meat in a circular motion.

Hungry lips embraced your neck, quick, burning kisses connecting with the skin to leave a trail of fire where he went. His arousal was already pressing up against your thigh as his hands on your ass squeezed harder; he had been worked up all day and seeing you all pretty for him it pushed him over the edge.

“Just wanna fuckin’ corrupt my little flower, ruin her pretty petals with my fat cock,” he breathed against the nape of your neck. His warm breath wafted down your collar bone to the tops of your breasts, making the skin pinprick with goose pimples while his words worked on your nerves to send you into a tailspin.

Were you supposed to stay sane after that? Because it just got really, really hard to think straight. “Yes,” was the only word your mind could form and you moaned it against the side of his head.

Fingers flitted around the waistband of your panties, outlining the band around your hips before it found the band descending between your legs; he followed that with his fingertips as well. “Mmmm, my beautiful girl, you know no one else even comes close?” he groaned. “Got the prettiest little thing around. Sets me on fuckin’ fire, how lucky I am to have such dainty thing at my disposal.”

Desperation gathered in his movements as he pawed at your body, causing you to respond to him as all your nerve ends across your skin began to ignite like he had just lit a match.

Without warning you were picked up and brought over to the bed where he set you down carefully along the edge. In an instant he had dropped down to his knees before you, one large hand gathered at the back of your head to pull you into his face so that he could press his lips desperately to yours. Wet, aggressive kisses he greedily stole from your mouth over and over again as he moved up into you.

“Lean back for me, darlin',” he said against your mouth.

Releasing you from his grasp you did as Simon said, laying back on your elbows so that you could still watch him. Hands on your parted thighs to steady himself, he swooped in. His face was at your pubic bone and he opened his mouth, collecting the waist of your panties in his teeth before he was pulling them down your legs, undressing you completely without the use of his hands.

Well damn, you had been curious to see how good they’d look on the floor since he had brought it up, but who could have predicted that they would look exquisite in between his teeth?

…Definitely a good choice indeed.

[agnesafterhours]

trophy | lee know. smut.

As team captain, your boyfriend has his priorities straight. Minho doesn't take neither his training nor role lightly, and, sometimes, you like to tap into this inflexible side of his. (3.7k words)

CONTENT: smut, dom!minho but he's more persuasive than physically controlling, brat!reader, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, slight degradation kink. minors and empty blogs do not interact.

© all rights reserved. i do not allow reposting and/or translations of my work.

You shouldn't get under Minho's skin when he's training, you know that. The hurried whispers of his teammates leaving the field after matches told you this much. But still, it feels a bit unfair of him to make you sit here, after a whole game, having to watch as he leads his team through a “just, like, thirty minutes?” practice. Although annoyed, you understand why he's so hung up on practicing as much as possible—winning this game meant going to the finals, after all. You knew how much this meant to Minho, so you tried your best to be patient whilst sitting on the bleachers.  

Even though you're in a bit of a hurry to get him home, watching Minho play earlier makes it hard to deny that the field is his element, leading the team is his calling. You were completely stunned as you watched your boyfriend play—this being the first game of his you saw which you were actually rooting for his team. It was a bit of a rascal when the team captain introduced the cheerleader of their rivalling team as his girlfriend, but his mates eventually got over it. 

Your relationship with Minho was fun. You were together for a couple months and the freshness and excitement of it all never failed to make your skin tingle each time he looked at you in a certain way. Like the look he's giving you right now—chin up, eyes down, head slightly tilted.  

“I told you to wait.” His uniform's shoulder pads make him look even more intimidating, the bright spotlights behind him turning the white material almost blinding—his shadow casting on you. 

“I have been waiting! It's been like an hour, Min! And you said you'd take thirty minutes…” You hope a slight pout would help your case and soften his heart, but he simply turns his focus to the field for a moment, before looking back at you. Minho takes a few steps closer.  

“What’re you so eager to go home for?” He asks, voice a bit quieter. There's no need to speak this lowly when he's so close, especially when his teammates are so far away and everyone else has gone home by now—but you'll take advantage of whatever you can get from him. Even if it's just the feeling of his eyes on you. 

You look away, arms crossing under your chest as he smirks.  

“What? Cat got your tongue so early on, baby? Speak up.” 

“I'll tell you when we get in the car.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “I don't wanna wait ‘til we get in the car.” 

“Well, then maybe you should hurry.” You turn around, eyes lingering on him for a moment before you make your way to the parking lot. 

Your nerves make you jump a little when you hear Minho shout to his team they're wrapping up the practice—the parking lot getting darker and darker with the distance you put between yourself and the field's spotlights, a cool breeze awakening shivers up your arms as the night hugged you tighter and tighter. You (and the butterflies on your stomach) wouldn't settle until you felt Minho's presence. But you don't wait for him to catch up to you. You don't look back. 

The few minutes you sit in the car feel like hours, your phone's screen lighting up with a notification from your boyfriend finally seizing the constant checkups of your hair and gloss. 

min🖤: locker room  

You: why  im waiting for u  in the car 

min🖤: locker room:)  im waiting  

You: ive been waiting for longer  what if i just dont go 

You slam the car door shut, making a bee line to his location. 

min🖤: if you dont come you wont get what you want when we get home 

You: whatever 

The building's back door shuts loudly behind you.  

min🖤:  if you dont come ur gonna have made me end practice for nothing  

You: idc  ur already mad anyway  

You reach the locker room and as soon as your hand turns the door handle, you feel two hands on your hips pressing your back to the cold metal. 

Minho's tongue is in your mouth before you can even notice he kissed you, the cold air seeping through the open windows contrasting his warm palms on your skin. You're covered in shivers as he controls the kiss—one palm running up your chest to your neck until he reaches the back of your head, tilting it as he pleases.  

“Not mad enough to use numbing cream on you.” The bottle sits menacingly on the wooden bench. He spreads your legs with his thigh, pressing against your core. “So don't push me.” 

You're completely helpless, hands grabbing fistfuls of his uniform as he lightly pulls the hair on your nape every now and again—his mouth latching desperately onto yours. The room is dark, the campus so empty it almost feels like you're in a different dimension, completely by yourselves. Air fills your lungs for the first time in a while—you didn't realize you were that breathless until gasps fill the room as he kisses your neck. 

“I didn't even do anything.” He leaves a harsh bite at your words, sucking on the bruise a moment after. “Ah- I just wanted to congratulate you for winning-” 

“If you wanted to congratulate me”, his voice drips with sarcasm, “you would've sat there and wait for me to finish practice.” Minho hastily pulls the front of your tank top above your chest, not bothering to fully strip you out of it before his hand reaches under your bra, massaging your breast. “You would've been patient until I had the time to bring my pretty little trophy home, hm?” 

Air hitches in your throat when he rips your bra open, the cloth falling to the floor. You struggle through heavy breathing to talk back as he licks his thumb and brings it to your nipple. “I'm not just some trophy.” 

“You're not? What are you, then?” His lips leave your neck so he can look you in the eye, finally allowing to rest for a bit. You don't like the distance. 

You lean your head forward, chasing his smirking lips as he pushes you back against the lockers—the shuffling metal sounds strident in the dead quiet. Minho tilts his head back a bit, rejecting your kiss. “You didn't answer me.” 

“Because I wanna fucking kiss you!” You whine through gritted teeth, leaning towards him one more time. 

The grip he has on your hair stops you once again, but this time, he gets so close his lips touch yours when he whispers. “Tell me what you are, baby. ‘Cause sometimes you act like you're just a desperate little hole for me to fill." 

Minho's dilated pupils stare right into your soul. Your eyes shake but you don't look away. “I'm your fucking girlfriend. It's not my fault you're not good enough of a fuck that I'm never satisfied.” 

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.  

You see, Minho wasn't the type to growl his demands and manhandle you into whatever position he wants—he always tries reasoning with you. He lets you know what it is he would like to do, and if you don't comply, he'd show you why that was the best option for you in the first place. Minho gets off on proving he knows better, showing how he knows what's best for you. 

He takes a small step back, a click of his tongue letting you know his disappointment. “So I don't fuck you right? Okay.”  

“I just- I didn't mean-” 

“No, you're right, you're right. That's why I never make you come, right?” His sarcastic voice coming out a little bit breathless as he shoves your shorts and underwear down your legs, eyes fix on yours. You kick the clothes to the side with trembling legs, bambi eyes looking up at him. 

You didn't exactly know what the outcome of your stubbornness would be, but you did not expect Minho's knees to buckle—his gaze dead set on yours as he reached the ground.  

Suddenly, your boyfriend grabs your hand and latches it to the hair on the back of his head.  

“Why don't you fucking teach me then?” He speaks through gritted teeth, throwing your right leg over his shoulder pad—the unusual angle giving him all the access he needed and leaving you much more exposed.  

Unhappy with how limp your hand stayed in his hair, Minho grabs it once more, pushing himself against your core. 

“Come on, baby.” He mumbles, leaving wet kisses over your outer labia. When he looks up, resting his chin on the skin under your bellybutton, the dim light coming from the window makes his profile glow blue—pearly white grin hypnotizing you. Minho looked like an incubus—eager to suck the life out of you. “Where's your attitude, hmm? Show me what you like.” 

You can see your bare chest heaving with each breath as you look down at him. “Fin... Fingers?” 

He tilts his head to the side, big eyes full of mischief. “Fingers? You're asking?” 

“I… I don't-” 

“You don't know? Of course you do. You're just not thinking straight. Maybe it's stress, right? ‘Cause I'm not good enough?” Without a warning, the tip of his tongue lightly zigzags up and down your pussy. Up, and down again—avoiding your clit each time.  

“You see,” he says, letting his saliva mix with your arousal, “if I use my fingers now, you'll come too fast.” Minho leaves a long peck on your core. “I know that's what you want, but what about dragging it out a little bit? I think you'd like it better.” He flattens his tongue and your body squirms as he licks up. “But I mean, I wouldn't know.” 

Minho's being painfully annoying, but you deserve it. He takes his time dragging his tongue through your core, lapping your arousal and smearing it on your cunt—making your legs shake every now and again. His right hand keeps your squirming hips still as the left one slowly caresses it's way up your body, until he reaches your chest.  

He's looking up at you the entire time, watching every single twitch and reaction to the flow of his tongue on you. When he finally latches onto your clit, you swear you lose your mind a little. Your hips stutter and he follows you promptly, big brown eyes burning through you. The sight of Minho on his knees being illuminated by the moonlight is so ethereal it's almost haunting, and at that moment, you know you'll never really forget this view—you'll never forget how he's making you feel. He really is like a incubus in a way, imprinting his mark on the back of your mind forever. 

Impulsiveness takes over and you force your hips forward, the hand in the back of your boyfriend's head thrusting him against your cunt. Minho's eyes turn impossibly darker, his smirk much more noticeable than before. When he closes his eyes and his eyebrows furrow, you already know you're gone—instincts making you hold onto his locks harsher than ever. 

The soft sucking turns progressively rougher, your eyes squeeze shut as his tongue draws figure-eights on your clit very softly in contrast to how quickly his lips are working the same nerve. 

When your eyes start to water from how overwhelmed you feel, the telltale begins. As soon as your body starts shaking and your hips squirm away from his hold, you open your eyes to look at him just in time to watch as he completely removes himself off of you.  

Your heart drops, hot tears running down your shamed cheeks as you wobble a bit, trying to find balance without his hands on your hips. 

“Fuck, can you even feel anything, baby?” You feel the ghost of gentle fingertips on your labia, following up and down the slit. 

You can tell through your watery eyesight and the poor-lit room that he's now paying attention to the way his fingers play with your cunt, smirk wiped clean off his voice as he watches your arousal coat his fingers. “If I try something like this-” He gently pushes his ring and middle fingers inside you, slowly curling the tip of his fingers in come-hither motion, low voice filling up the emptiness, “does it feel good?” 

Does it feel good? You're long, long gone. Minho's voice sounds like it's coming from inside your head, the stimulation feels like it reflects in white orbits in your vision. You can no longer force yourself to open your eyes—it's for the better, anyway. You'd probably pass out if you caught a glimpse of his pretty brown eyes by now.  

Does it feel good? You don't remember how you got yourself in this situation—you don't even have the brain power to form a phrase involving anything but religious chants of his name. You've become nothing but a warm body for Minho to touch and use as he pleases, you'd be satisfied with the smallest of touch he'd be kind enough to reach for.  

His pouty lips find your clit again and suddenly, fireworks start setting off in your insides way too fast. Your stomach muscles contract in a way that's entirely new for you and you feel like you'll fall to the floor if he doesn't support all your weight. Your start to feel your throat straining, the constant whining suddenly getting higher. Your eyes are shut so tightly you can see blobs of colour behind your pitch-black eyelids. You think you're out of it for a little bit, but you can still hear his voice. 

“Yeah, I don't think I'm doing it right.” The raspiness of his tone almost puts you to sleep—his fingers are still inside you, now pumping back and forth, very slowly. You can hear the embarrassingly loud gushing sound of his fingers moving inside you, and you open your eyes to find your boyfriend's face and chest covered in your arousal. 

“I, I-” You don't know exactly what you have to say, but his loving eyes and the kiss he pressed to your thigh were not helping you find it out. 

“You ruined my fucking jersey.” His lopsided smile makes your breath hitch. 

“Need you.” 

He tilts his head again. “Do you? Really?” 

Your head is heavy as you nod, and you try your best to not lose focus. You know what he needs to hear to finally drop the act, and you know you should give in before your body gives out completely, but there's a little twisted voice inside your head asking how far you can take this—your body seems to be addicted to the thrill, moans immediately spilling out your lips when his fingers pick up pace. 

“You're not satisfied?” He asks, voice sugary sweet. His pouty lips pepper quick pecks on your inner thigh, expectant eyes looking up at you. “I’m not sure I can help you, though. I mean, if it doesn’t feel good it’ll just get painful at some point.” 

You stutter your words through a strained voice. “I’ll let you know if it does.” It takes your entire being to attempt to sound demanding. “We can keep going for now.” 

An amused countenance takes over his sharp features. “Oh, we can? Alright, ma’am. Thank you so much for letting me know.” He stands up, and the sudden shift in atmosphere rising goosebumps on your skin as he now looks down on you. 

Minho stands tall before you, the lighting no longer illuminating his doll-like eyes—shadows now cover most of his face, long hair hiding his gaze. As if he can hear your heartbeat picking up pace, he gets close to whisper against your lips, eyes hazy as he looks down at you. “I think we gotta stretch you out a bit more, hmm? If it didn't feel good, you're probably still tight.” 

Good God, you hate this man. You know what he’s trying to get out of you—you’re just not sure if you want to give him the satisfaction yet.  

So, you look up at him with the sweetest eyes you can possibly muster. “Don’t worry, bunny. You’re not that big.” 

He stares at you for a few seconds, the smile on his lips doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bench. On your back.” 

Although it seems you’ve worn his patience thin, you stare back. The cogs in your brain working their full capacity trying to figure out a way to make his life a bit harder. A disappointed sigh leaves his lips as he walks towards his locker, looking for his stuff to leave. 

As always, his action is effective. Minho really doesn’t need much to convince you to give in, after all, you know what you’ll get when you do. 

Silence fills the room as you discard your shirt all the way and lay on the bench, legs bent at the knees, heels resting on the cool surface. Anxiety bubbles under your sensitive skin when you hear Minho taking off his clothes. You rest you weight on your elbows to watch—his jersey was gone when you got to look at him, shoulder pads following suit. 

“What made you change your mind?” He opted to leave his white tank top on as he unbuckles his belt, one knee—supported by the bench—between your legs. The moonlight now shining entirely on him.  

“Don't like the emptiness…” Your voice trails off, and you don't mind staring shamelessly as he puts on a little show for you—one hand on your knee and running down your thigh, the other stroking his cock.  

He scoffs, “You say shit like this but doesn't like it when I say you act like a hole.” He taps his tip on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. “Make up your mind, bunny.” 

Minho stays kneeled before you, the cloth of his tank top so thin you could make out the lines of his chest and abs—the muscles on his pale arms shining iridescent in the lighting. 

Your boyfriend moved his hips, slowly grinding over your slit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head without much resistance, mouth watering with each nudge of his tip to your clit. “Whatever you said about me not being too big…” He leans down to leave a quick peck on your lips. “Keep that in mind.” 

With absolutely no warning and much faster than your brain would've been able to process, Minho buries himself as deep as he possibly can inside of you. He lifts your hips off the bench with ease, sitting on his heels—his hold on you so tight you bounced back against him with each thrust of his.  

The stamina of the man above you is unfaltering. You can't do much besides watch him: his biceps flex to support the weight of your hips every time he slams you back on his cock, veins prominent on his arms. Minho's face and neck are covered in the prettiest shade of pink—his wide chest, blushed with the same colour, is struggling with each breath he takes. The moonlight highlights the droplets of sweat sliding down his neck, and he can't seem to decide whether he wants to throw his head back or look down at where your hips align. 

Keeping himself together is the hardest when Minho looks down at you. He got his pretty girl all splayed out for him; her eyebrows furrowed in utter pleasure as the whiniest sounds constantly pour out of her pouty lips. The way your body reacts to him is hypnotic—it's so fun for him, how every little thing he does makes your eyes roll back. The power trip he gets when he watches your skin shiver wherever his hands touch is better than anything he's ever experienced. All because it's you. Because he gets you to feel like this. The fact you're so drunk on Minho gets him even more addicted to the feeling of your body shaking under him. So when your hips suddenly spring back to life rolling desperately against his and Minho's name seems to be the only coherent thought your brain can formulate, his desire increases tenfold. 

You have no control over how loud your moans or the smack of Minho's hips against yours are. He lowers you back on the bench and is fully above you in the blink of an eye—holding your face as he kisses you so deeply you struggle to keep up. His thrust become less timed but continue as deep as they were. Minho throws his head back, moaning loudly, but quickly brings his gaze back to your lips. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips touching yours as he whispers. 

“Come on, baby. You know how much I love to feel you coming around me. Be good.” 

Be good, be good. Of course you want to be good. When his lips touch yours again, euphoria explodes inside of you. Your eyes being squeezed shut seem to enhance your other senses a bit—you feel every inch of Minho's cock grinding inside you, his hands burning hot where they touch, his loud moans and the wetness spattering between your legs being the only things crystal clear in your cloudy mind.  

“Holy shit, fuck. I'm close, I'm so close.” He pants, face buried in your neck.  

Your weak hands gently soothe his back, you mindlessly mumble your words, “Wanna feel you coming inside me, love. Want it so bad.” 

His strong arms wrap around your waist when he comes, cock buried deep inside of you. Minho shudders with each movement of your hands against his skin, as you now gently scratch his back under his tank top. It feels like a long time has passed until he breaks the silence. 

“We're taking the numbing cream home, by the way.” He gets his face off your neck and rests his weight on his elbows. His right hand cups your jaw, thumb playing with your drooled lips. “You're not done paying for that attitude.”

[darklinsblog]

Blinding Ire | Mattheo Riddle

Summary: Mattheo couldn’t bring himself to admit his feelings for the Hufflepuff girl, but as Goyle puts his hands on her, his anger got the best of him.

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff! Reader

Warnings: Harrasement, mentions of physical assault

A/N: Couldn’t Shake the thought off of my head so here it is

As an Scamander and coming from a long line of outstanding wizards you truly wore your family’s name with pride. You had half of Hogwarts crushing and drooling to your feet, you were breath taking gorgeous, smart and everyone just wanted to be around you.

Mattheo Riddle was no other than a polar opposite, smug, cold in his demeanor, borderline arrogant and self-centered but he would be lying if he said you did not catch his eye.

But he did not allow himself to pursue you actively, he couldn’t explain it, but when it came to you his confidence flew out the fucking astronomy tower. He could barely put together a whole sentence.

To your understanding, Mattheo was just reserved, so his sharpness when talking didn’t cut through you.

Something nobody seemed to know was that Goyle had been stalking you for months now, at first you thought it was a simple crush but it started escalating as he began following you around the corridors, sneaking into your dorm when you were in class and stealing your personal belongings.

Honestly, it started being unsettling how unsafe you felt, but you didn’t have the courage to speak up. Goyle could just throw money onto the whole situation and make it go away and in the end, you would be the one to blame.

Perhaps you should have spoken up, but you thought it was better to not make a fuss, involve the families and make a scandal that would follow your moves like the ghosts at Hogwarts.

Right now, you were in Class for Care Of Magical Creatures and Goyle was slowly and carefully making his way to you, whilst you graciously scurried away, Mattheo noticed this, making his eyebrows raise and his eyes narrowed distrusting.

But just then Hagrid gave you the instructions to go seek for food for the Fire Crab, the group broke apart and you went your way,focusing solely on the assignment at hand, allowing yourself to enjoy nature until you began hearing footsteps behind you.

“Hello?” You called out but there were no answers other than the crackles of branches, leaves and the wind. “Anyone there?!”

Nothing.

You took a deep breath and walked a few steps before a hand covered your mouth, you screamed and squirmed away. Suddenly, you were spooned around to find Goyle looking at you with crazy eyes.

“G-Goyle?” You spoke trembling, he stepped closer to you and you flinched back

“Bloody hell you are never gonna love me, are ya?” His tone was dark and as he keep stepping closer until you decided to take a leap and started running away into the woods feeling your heart pounding.

But Goyle tackled you to the ground, pinning you down onto the soil as you tried to break free but it was useless, he was twice your size, holding you so roughly you were certain your wrists were near to crack in two.

“HELP! PLEASE HELP!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the tears started rolling down your face.

“SHUT IT!” He screamed in your face half-panicking and just as he raised his hand, ready to slap you across the face, his hand caught mid-air.

In the blink of an eye Goyle was off you and as you were now free from danger, you noticed the image of none other than Mattheo Riddle punching Goyle straight in his face, making blood pour out of his nose.

Although , Goyle could land a few punches that would too, cause harm, Mattheo was a raging bull, there was no way of stopping his ire.

You sat there completely out of it, as you watch the scene unfold, but you wanted to do something, anything to stop Mattheo from getting more hurt or in trouble for defending you, but your body was utterly unresponsive to your heart desires.

The commotion was so big the whole class catch up to the woods, you saw how Theodore, Draco and Lorenzo force him up. Yet, he was fighting them off trying to finish what he started.

“IF YOU FUCKING LAY A FINGER ON HER EVER AGAIN I WILL AVADA KEDAVRA YOUR ASS!” He roared.

“OI! Let’s not get carried away, will ya?” Hagrid said rapidly, trying his best to get a hold of such disaster.

Then, at such words, a switch light up in Mattheo’s brain, he looked in your direction and you were still sat down, with your back resting against a tree and your eyes wondering into absolute nowhere.

The Riddle boy approached you calmly, even with his clothes stained with the blood of his numerous injuries, somehow he projected an oddly reassuring calmness as his eyes found yours.

“Y/N you-“ he started questioning you but was quickly caught off guard by you launching into his arms and holding onto him for dear life.

He was taken back for a moment before slowly embracing you as you clawed onto the fabric of his shirt

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” you kept mumbling in his ear as you cried, and even though your hug was doing no good to his bruises and fresh wounds, he could not have given less of a flying fuck.

Because in that moment, his only purpose was to ensure you felt safe. So much so, that he refused to leave your side as you went to the hospital wing, you were just checked up and asked about what happened, while Mattheo acted as if you were the one injured, constantly asking if you were okay.

After you were let go off, you visited Mattheo’s bed, he was freshly patched up and his eyes lighted up at the sight of you, he had a charming smile plastered on his face that almost made you forget his cuts and dry blood.

“Hi” you greeted him softly.

“Hey” you played with your fingers nervously, as the heat creeped up your cheeks, not knowing what to say. Whilst Mattheo soaked in the sight of you completely mesmerized.

“Does it hurt?” You asked inspecting his face and he shook his head.

“I’ve gotten used to it. Don’t sweat it, sweet girl” he shrugged, you smiled softly and Mattheo realized he had called you sweet girl without thinking of it.

“As grateful as I am I would appreciate you, not disfiguring your face in my behalf, Mattheo” you joked making him laugh.

“Why’s that?” He asked curiously stepping closer to you.

“You might have a nice face to look at” you teased, nuzzling his cheek with your index finger softly, your touch was so gentle and mindful it was practically impossible to explain how he felt his skin burst into flames.

“Might? That hurt, Scamander”

“You’ll survive, Riddle”

You were both smiling and there was a moment of absolute silence before his eyes softened.

“You sure you’re alright? Say the word and he’s dead” he said with mischief but you knew he meant it and it was an odd feeling to know someone was willing to kill for you. Especially if that someone was Mattheo Riddle.

“What? Are you in love with me or something?” You joked nervously, he did not crack a smile, but you could see something clicked inside him as he looked at you dead in the eye.

“Yes” you were surprised as he answered you without hesitation and you just kissed him, finding words wouldn’t cut it, this boy was your biggest crush for years and he had just saved you from an ugly situation, kept you safe and confessed his feelings, you would be dammed if you let that go.

[rin-may-1103]

Biggest Regret. (Part Two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Bruce had finally found a peaceful moment to sit down and go through his work emails; there were no sibling homicide fights, prank wars, and thankfully no vigilante-related headaches.

Just a peaceful afternoon; normal polluted Gotham skies, the usual city ruckus of honking horns and shouting, and the constant footsteps back and forth past his closed office door.

taking a sip from his old mug, Bruce opened his laptop. Quickly typing in his password for the hour, he made his way to his email. surprisingly, less than 90 emails were waiting for him. Usually, he had hundreds to go through.

hmmm. Another check for this being a suspiciously good day then, it just made him more anxious for when the other shoe would fall.

peaceful for Gotham, for him, never meant anything good. It always happened right before a tragic event or large-scale Arkham breakout. he could hope for it to just be a peaceful day, but he knew wishful thinking was useless.

taking another sip, Bruce started scrolling through his emails, reading the subject lines to sort through which ones were more important. After a few minutes of reading, Bruce stopped and reread the second to last email's title, his eyebrows furrowing:

A Video From Your Son.

Now, Bruce was truly confused; Why would one of his kids email him? let alone through his public work email? They've been told multiple times to email him through the bat-email if it contains anything important or time-sensitive. Heck, they've been told to just text him it if it was important, he always answers a text faster than an email.

His Bruce Wayne email was notoriously ignored for multiple days; mostly for his cover story, but also because he spends most of his time doing Batman stuff. (Reading Wayne Enterprises emails usually wasn't something at the top of his list, the kids know this.)

so, then why would one of them email him?

hmm. maybe? maybe one of the boys set up a long-term prank or something. They know how long it takes for him to read his emails, so maybe they sent it knowing it would take a while, which means they had plenty of time to set something up.

yes, that's it. it makes total sense.

Clicking on the email, he was greeted with a boy (who looked a lot like Damian, but who most certainly wasn't) sitting gravely on a wooden box in some dark warehouse.

sitting up straight, Bruce set his mug down and studied the paused video. the boy looked so much like Damian that Bruce almost wanted to believe he was a clone. but his bright stern blue eyes and and apparent freckles pushed the idea away.

Yes, clones can have imperfections, especially when made in a rush, but never something as drastic as the wrong eye color or a genetic quality the one being cloned didn't have. Unless, the one making the clone had no idea what they were doing, but Bruce doubted Talia would have allowed someone to take Damian's DNA before he was given to Bruce.

and the boy on screen had scars, lots of scars, meaning if he was a clone then he was made before Bruce even knew of Damian.

hmm.

there were no clues provided in the kid's surroundings; the warehouse was surprisingly empty of anything important or telling. the kid had even chosen a spot where Bruce couldn't tell if it was day or night, or if the lights were on. which took away the usual ways of figuring out where the boy was.

No sky meant he couldn't calculate the general area based on season and celestial bodies. And because he couldn't tell if the light was from industrial lighting or daylight, he couldn't cross out warehouses with electricity. The kid was smart. smarter than the average citizen at least.

he was also wearing discreet clothing; which meant Bruce couldn't trace him through that either.

leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, Bruce pressed play and gave the video his full attention.

The boy on screen sat in silence for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. his hands rested in his lap, his poster rather relaxed as he sat on his wooden crate.

"This is video eight." the boy spoke, his voice rough with sleepless nights and yelling. Did he yell at people often? or had he gotten into a fight previously? there were seven other videos, but this was the first one Bruce saw. he'd have to go back and see if he had somehow missed them.

"don't worry, you didn't miss anything." the boy chuckled humorously, running one of his hands through his hair. Bruce noted that it shook, the kid was probably nervous, or hungry. the kid looked too skinny to be healthy...

"no, this is just the eighth time I've had to record this." the boy continued, dropping his hand back into his lap as he slumped forward, his black hair falling into his face.

"this video," he continued, not glancing up, "is for Bruce Wayne's eyes only."

there were still no visual tells on where the boy was, not even audio cues for Bruce to study. frowning, Bruce rested his head on his hands, taking in everything the boy said.

"Hi Dad," Bruce sucked in a breath, tensing up as the kid finally glanced back at the camera.

"I'm Danny. you likely don't know I exist, and if you're receiving this; I'm already dead." he chuckled like the thought of his death was laughable. "well, more dead than I already was." he snorted, shaking his head in a way that reminded Bruce of Damian when he was exasperated or disappointed.

"Maybe it's cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem," Danny, the kid's name is Danny, looked away. He rubbed his neck awkwardly as he continued, "But you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would've put you in danger."

Danny let out a breath as he pulled his legs up onto the crate, "this email is set to automatically send if I haven't opened my laptop for three days. I sometimes set it longer if I'm expecting trouble or going to be away for a while, but I've most likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you're receiving this."

Danny looked so tired as he looked back at the camera, the dark bags under his eyes worse than even Tim's after a week-long investigation.

"I don't know who killed me. Obviously, I'm recording this in advance... I have my suspicions though. it was most likely either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons." Danny reached beside him and held up a two pictures, "This is Maddie and Jack Fenton, and this," another picture, "is some GIW agents."

Danny snorted as he glanced at the GIW agents, their startled faces slightly blurry as Danny stood in front of them and took a selfie. bruce wasn't sure if he was amused or not that the kid took a selfie with his potential murderers but then again, Bruce could see all of his children doing it too. (Bruce could also see himself doing it.)

"i half-died at 14," Danny suddenly added, tossing the pictures to the side. "became the local ghost superhero..."

he stared off to the side for a moment, "but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost me apart molecule by molecule." Danny glanced back at the camera before his eyes widened, "my parents! I mean, my parents and the GIW wanted to tear me apart, not the town! though they probably wouldn't have disagreed with it if asked..."

"anyway," Danny shook his head, "my money's on that being what happened..." Danny looked down at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time, "there will be nothing left of me to bury..."

"Sorry about that!" he suddenly added, a bright smile on his face. Bruce could tell it was strained, forced in hopes of not upsetting him.

"you'd probably have to cremate me if there was, it'd be a waste of wood to get me a coffin... though I'd really prefer if I wasn't set on fire," Danny chuckled, trying to hide a full-body shiver.

He sat in silence for a moment before Danny continued, "The rest of the story is this: I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of nine. they sent me on a mission and I just had to take the opportunity. I successfully faked my death."

Danny sat up now, fully focusing on the camera, "My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that's the reason I'm reaching out to you."

Danny let his feet fall off the edge as he grabbed something from next to him, keeping it out of view for now. "you're a civilian," Danny stated like it was a fact he knew to be true.

Bruce clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself still so he could focus on what Danny was telling him. he wished he could reach through the screen and hold the boy, whether he was his son or not, he obviously was talking about the league which meant Talia hadn't told him.

Talia hadn't told him, and if he was anything like Damian, then he would have no reason to believe otherwise.

"If you know too much about the League of Assassins you'll be in danger, but I need you to save my twin Damian." Danny's words were like a final nail in the coffin, the final straw to keeping his heart from breaking again.

it was true, it had to be. How would Danny have this information otherwise?

"he's likely still there after all these years. he never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. he's probably going to be stabby: he's an assassin after all, but it's not his fault. Ra's, our grandfather, indoctrinated him a lot more successfully than he did me. Damian was more susceptible to it... it's not his fault." Danny repeated, clenching the object he had grabbed.

"Please," Danny pleaded, "save him. I'm begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please take it."

Danny bit his lip and glanced down at his lap, "I w-," he quickly glanced around before shaking his head, "I long for a time when it would have been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I've seen of you on the news with your oldest kids."

he looked up with a water smile, "I bet you're like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I still don't know how you managed that, it's been six years." Danny chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"This is my, um, my old league sigil." Danny held up the object he had been holding, revealing a golden disk with thick rope connected to it. it had the demon head's symbol on it.

"A coat of arms. I'll leave it somewhere for you. hopefully, you can use it to get to Damian." Danny gently placed it back on the box. "I'm keeping it in a box in the walls of my room. You should be able to find it."

"I wish you and your family the best," Danny sniffed, looking back at the camera. "thank you for listening. From your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton."

Bruce stared at the paused video for a minute, just trying to process everything he just saw. he needed confirmation, he knew it was true, it had to be, there's no way Danny could fake this. but Bruce needed to confirm. make sure he isn't seeing things.

absently, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed his youngest's, was he still the youngest? or was Danny? number.

the tone didn't even ring longer than five seconds before his son's voice echoed into the silent office, "Father."

"Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?" Bruce asked, not cutting around the bush.

dead silence, he couldn't even hear Damian's breath.

then, "...Who told you?"

Damian's voice wasn't angry or fearful, it was sad and confused and wavered like the last leaf on a tree clinking on for dear life in a blizzard. it cemented the break in Bruce's heart as he stared at the tearful face of his son, his son who claimed to be dead already.

hanging up, Bruce quickly sent the video to Damian and waited. he needed a minute to process what just happened. Clicking play, Bruce rewatched the video, hoping to find another clue.

Damian called back a few minutes later, the sound of Danny's voice echoing in the background telling Bruce his son had watched and rewatched the video just like he had.

"Father. I do not care what state he is in, even if there is only a single molecule left. I'm going to bring him home. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny, the truth."

"I couldn't agree more, Damian," Bruce grunted, standing up. Pushing his chair in, he turned his laptop off and made his way to his office door. "I'll be home soon, gather the others. tell them all hands on deck."

"yes, Father," Robin replied, hanging up not even a second later.

Shoving his phone in his pocket and opening his office door, Batman started making his way home.

Next

[saturnsorbits]

Stuck Between a Soft Place

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Tit Fucking, Cum Eating, Pictures/Filming. Word Count: 2k.

'Babe?'

Bakugo's voice floats down the stairs, the question in his tone worrying for a man who has always treated even his opinions as facts.

You pause, head cocked. He'll shout again if it's urgent, if not -

'Babe... Babe!'

Officially intrigued, you skip up the stairs and follow his voice into your bedroom.

Bakugo looks up as soon as you fill the doorway, a weary smile tugging at his lip. He's perched on the end of the bed, boxer-clad and supporting a raging hard on that has already stained the front of his underwear. There's still droplets of water on his shoulders, beads from the shower he must have just stepped out of. It makes his skin glisten, his pale flesh almost glowing in the low light that trickles in through the translucent fabric of your curtains.

You fold your arms. 'You best not have called me all the way up here for: that.' Glaring at his cock, you raise your eyebrows as it twitches in response to your scolding.

'No.' Bakugo barks, but no sooner are the words out of his mouth than he's trying to cram them back in again. 'I mean, I -.' The words stick in his throat. With all the blood currently filling his cock, his brain feels sluggish. His thoughts cloud, coherency evading him as he tries to see past the request plaguing his mind.

Shaking your head, you sigh. 'Should have just come down and bent me over the counter again. I liked that...'

Bakugo puffs out his cheeks, knees bouncing under him.

'Spit it out.'

'I want to ask you something...'

'Oh, I can tell.'

'Not that.'

You scoff, hand moving to your hip. 'You don't want to fuck me right now?

'No. No, I do.' He inhales, pecs heaving as he steels himself against the hesitancy that nips at the lining of his stomach. 'If I tell you something, can you promise not to get mad?'

Popping your hip, you flick your tongue against the corner of your mouth. 'Alright. Did you cheat on me?'

Bakugo looks like you've just slapped him. 'What the fuck? No.'

'Go see 'Chako's new baby without me?'

'No.'

You wince. 'Tell Shouto that I secretly hate his new hair?'

'He's going through a phase.' Bakugo chuckles, the tension in his shoulders slowly leaving with each of your questions.

'It's awful.'

'I didn't tell him you hate it.'

Chewing at your lip, you scrunch your nose and pretend to think for a moment. 'Then no, I'm not gonna be mad.'

The air in the room feels hot. It burns Bakugo's skin, making him want to squirm. Clearning his throat, he ignored the persistent pulsing of his cock and begins to speak. 'Sero was talking about one of his girlfriends giving him a tit-wank and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you doing it to me since.'

'That's it?' You bite your tongue to stop the laughter from bubbling up your throat. The words 'tit-wank' falling from your typically gruff boyfriends lips something you didn't think you'd ever hear.

'Fuck off.' Now it's Bakugo's turn to cross his arms. He pouts, lip turned out as he looks up at you through thick eyelashes. He sulks. 'You know I have a hard time asking for shit.'

Stepping over the threshold, you come to a stop between Bakugo's knees. The spread of his legs accommodates you easily, your thighs brushing as you reach out and gently hook a finger under his chin. 'Don't ask then. Tell me.'

Bakugo chokes. It's a struggle to fight the haze that threatens to overwhelm him, but he manages it. Just. You're a vision, all easy confidence and curves, with your tits so close to his face that it's impossible not to stare straight at your cleavage. Dragging his eyes away, he meets his fate head on and submits to the amused arousal swimming in your eyes.

It takes him a moment to reorient himself, to slip from under your spell, but as soon as he does he dons his ego easily. Clearing his throat, he takes your hand from under his chin and grips your wrist. 'On your knees.'

You obey quickly, hitting your knees with a force that makes you thankful for the carpet. Already you can feel your cunt pulse, the tell-tale beating that promises another pair of ruined underwear and a desperation that only Bakugo can tend to.

'Take this off.' Slipping his finger under the strap of your tank top, he snaps the material against your skin.

You hiss, but waste no time. Stripping off the offending item, you toss it behind you and sit up, pressing your elbows together to make your tits sit pretty for inspection.

Bakugo swallows. His cock bobs. Gritting his teeth, he summons all the strength he has as he lets his eyes roam your naked chest. 'No bra, huh? No wonder you've got me going crazy. Look at what you do to me...' He grabs himself through his underwear, a wicked grin turning his lip as he watches the way your breath hitches.

'Can I?' You blink up at him, hands still poised on your knees despite the urge to touch him running through your veins.

He nods and you're on him in a second. You push your cheek against his hardness and nuzzle against the muscle. Desire radiates from him, causing his cock to twitch as you pull back and lick a long, thick stripe up over his clothed erection.

'Fuck...' Bakugo forces his lungs to take in air, curling over himself he watches, besotted, as you drool over him. The tip of your tongue presses to the rim of his clothed head, flicking at him in a way that makes his stomach tighten. Travelling lower, you encourage him to lift his hips, yanking his underwear off and down his legs.

Bakugo’s cock, once free of its confines, slaps back against his stomach. It’s thick, although average in size with a pretty, pink head that leaks lazily down its length. Pre-cum has given his skin a pearlescent sheen, one that begs to be cleaned and promises salt and satiation as a reward. The veins that run underneath pulse. Purpling as they near his base, they vanish, obscured by a thicket of dark blond hair that grows wiry from his groin.

You lick your lips and whine, knowing you’ll have to wait for your treat.

‘Don’t be like that baby…’ Bakugo reaches down and grips your jaw, mirroring your earlier gesture. ‘Don’t you wanna make me feel good?’

You nod. In your shorts your cunt drools. Your arousal pools, dripping down your calves as you sit ad pretty and wait.

Twisting his wrist, he places a thumb against your lips and ruins your pout. He slips the digit into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. ‘You’ll get your taste. Just gotta let me use you a little first, ha?’

You suck on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks as you curl your tongue and lap at the underside of his digit. The impatience in your stomach kicks, but you fight it for long enough to shift forwards and press your chest to his thighs.

His skin is warm against your tits as you cup yourself in cool hands. Stretching out your spine, you lift yourself up until you can lean over and slide him between.

Bakugo slips his finger out of your mouth immediately. The sight is already too much, the feel of your flesh against his a siren call to a premature end.

Leaning further into him, you press your chest to his cock, a literal flesh light that promises to fulfil all of his sordid dreams. You lock eyes with him, forcing him to bear witness, as you gently begin to use your tits to jerk him off.

The first pass feels like heaven. His cock pulses, balls pulling up tight as he fists the sheets beside his thighs. Each joint in his knuckles pale, his arms locking at the elbows as he viciously fights the urge to begin fucking up into you. ‘Fuck. Fuck -.’ He pants, chest expanding as he struggles to take in enough air.

Tilting your head, you smile sweetly and ask: ‘Is this what you wanted?’

His words jam behind his teeth. ‘Yes. Yes. Fuck - y-you feel amazing, doing so good. So fucking good.’

‘Yeah?’ There’s mischief swirling in your stomach as you watch him struggle to maintain his control. His head is thrown back now, the tension clear in the veins that trail over his shoulders.

You love him like this. Lost to himself. To pleasure. Comfortable enough to bare his throat to you.

‘So you don’t want me to do this, then?’ You don’t wait for his response, just let the tip of your tongue peak from behind your lips and lick at the soft crown of his head. Salt explodes across the back of your tongue, soaking into your saliva as you savour him and swallow him down.

Curling over himself, Bakugo feels his entire body strain with the effort to stall his orgasm.

He snaps forward, eyes watching hungrily as you continue to please him. Still, looking at you doesn’t help. You look debauched with bright cheeks and that twinkle in your eye that lets him know he’s done for. He can see his pre-cum coating your flesh, the softness of your tits glazed already with his excitement. Even your tongue, as you slip it back into your mouth, is dashed with him destined for your insides.

It happens quickly then, as he watches the head of his cock engulfed in your warm mouth. The pressure is too much. Coupled with the wink you toss him over the scene - he really should have known…

You flinch as the first lashing of cum splashes against your mouth. Ropes of it follow as it seems to reach everywhere, saturating you. It makes you feel dirty. Claimed. Take a picture…’ You pant.

Bakugo’s eyes almost burst out of his head, his cock kicking violently between your tits. A valiant effort from the otherwise spent muscle.

You lick your lips, careful not to disturb his masterpiece.

The echoes of his orgasm are anything, but fleeting. His stomach is tense, his shoulders too as he wrestles himself into a state of straightness once more… Already the bone deep satisfaction only you can deliver to him is settling in his joints. It makes him easy, bringing back the bite of confidence he’s so used to.

Reaching backwards, he pats the duvet until his phone bounces into his hand. He flips it, flicking open the camera with a practised ease, but comes to a halt when lays his eyes back on you. He swallows.

Bakugo’s been sure of a lot of things over the years. He was sure he’d go pro. Sure he’d be Ochako’s best man. Sure he’d never find a curry better than how his mum makes it. And, yet, he’s never been more sure of anything than you. Emotion tickles his throat. ‘You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. You know that, right? So fuckin’ sexy.’

You roll your eyes.

‘Oi.’ He cups your cheek, forcing your eyes to lock. ‘You’re so fuckin’ hot, you don’t even know… You could have fucking anything, you could.’

‘That right?’

You smirk and he knows he’s in trouble. Bringing the phone up, he snaps a few shots off in quick succession. All of them promising to have him hard within moments. Your tits are soft, cushioning his cock between them. Only the head of his cock peaks out, red and rosy and dripping in cum. It covers the rest of you too, from breast to face. It's even nestled in the groove of your tongue, something you've openly displayed for the camera, coupled with a wink.

Unfolding yourself, you stumble to your feet, helped by a steady palm on your forearm, but before you can escape Bakugo grabs at your ass and waist, yanking you close to him. His nose bumps against your sternum, tongue flicking at your skin as he cleans a streak of his own cum from your body.

You let him, indulge him for a moment and then, you’re lacing your hands in his hair and pulling: Hard. His neck snaps back, crimson eyes blown wide. You laugh. ‘Keep those pictures. I’m going to get a shower.’

He swallows audibly, the click like a gunshot in the ambience.

You unfurl yourself from him and tap the phone in his hand. ‘Oh, and Katsuki… When I get back, we’re gonna make a movie.’

Bakugo groans, flopping back on the bed. His cock twitches, balls tightening again despite the recent release. Already his mind is swimming, the arousal in his stomach making him dumber by the second. ‘You’re gonna be the death of me woman!’

The door to the bathroom shuts, locking your laughter behind it. ‘And you’re gonna love it.’

-> Full Masterlist

[teojira]

[Click Click Boom] [Shadow x Reader short stories]

Summary: You're set to be Shadow's companion to keep an eye on him and keep him in line, a courtesy from the goverment for him saving the world with Sonic and the others.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Can be read as platonic or romantic! Shadow/reader romance is implied though! You're human in this, age is vague but you're meant to be in your 20s.

Disclaimer: Shadow is an adult, and as for the furry debate, he's literally an adult who can consent and is sentient, don't like? Don't read!

A/N: I've literally been obsessed with this fucker since I was a literal child and it's the first time I've written for him!! The trailer yas me going insane. This is written well before the movie has come out, literally all I got to work with is Shadow in the trailer and the bits and pieces of info I psychoanalized so I don't wanna hear shit about it not being accurate tbh, this is self indulgent!!

Shadow isn't the worst task you've been assigned, you both are more akin to awkward roommates more than anything.

I'm talking randomly lingering in the corners of the room, his bright red eyes glowing and they always seemed to be locked right onto you.

You screamed the first dozen times, but now you just glare at the black hedgehog and spit out a "fuck you." and go about your business.

He'll never admit that it brings him infinite amusement, it's hard to tell, but the huff he lets out is evidence enough.

Shadow will never admit he cares for you, he loses everyone he cares for, and humans don't live that long. It's terrifying to think about how much he's come to like you.

He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

You're sitting down at the dinner table, typing away on your laptop, editing the mission report from the other day when Shadow makes his way towards you. Sending him a nod in his direction, you don't think of anything when he moves in close.

A huge slam takes you off guard though, jumping damn near out of your skin as you twist your head to look at him.

"What the fuck-"

"Take it."

It's one of Shadow's guns, his emblem being engraved along the stock.

"What? No, I have guns." You raise an eyebrow at the hog, his face is perfectly still, eyes locking onto yours as he waits for you to grab the heckler.

"Your guns are worthless, you need something better."

"Well excuse me, I so happen to like my guns." You try and joke back, but the offense is taken.

Shadow rolls his eyes so hard you're scared that he's gonna blind himself. Jutting his chin towards the table once more to get your focus back onto it.

"If you have one of mine, I know you're safe." He doesn't elaborate. Not that he needs to.

"...Thank you, Shad."

All you get is a grunt in response, and he's on his way back to his room.

Gingerly picking up the weapon, you take in how pristine it is, a thumb caressing your small initials that you missed on the other side of the stock.

With Shadow saving the world, the reeking of havoc makes it to where he's limited to what he is allowed to do in the public eye.

Not that he listens, he isn't supposed to be out after curfew. But to be fair, it is extremely hard to keep a teleporting hedgehog confined to a meager two-story house.

You can hear him teleport above you, he's on the roofs of the nearby building, leering down at you.

It was a small errand you were on, simply stocking up on the essentials for the house.

Namely, snacks for Shadow, he doesn't ask for a lot other than coffee beans and Doritos.

You are choosing to ignore the fact that he eats the coffee beans straight up, the crunch echoes through your head and it sends a shudder down your spine.

He was adamant against you leaving the house this late, standing in front of the front door.

"No."

"Fuck you mean no?"

"I said no."

"....I don't listen to men."

And you weaved around him to leave the house, ignoring his shout of disapproval.

That leads you both to here now, you pretending you don't see him trailing you from the rooftops as you walk your way back home from the small shopping center.

You feign surprise when he opens the house door for you, begrudgingly sticking a hand out to help you with your bags.

"Oh! Thank you my knight in shining armor~"

"Shut it."

He's never told you his birthday, which you can understand, living for 50 years and not having your family around must be hard. No matter how he may fake that it doesn't bother him.

That doesn't stop you, not in the slightest really. You damn near kick him out of the house for the day, shoving him over to Tom and Maddie's house so he can be with the others. Despite how much he protested.

"I don't want to go over there. Not with that blue fake."

"You don't really have a choice bub, I need you out of the house."

"I don't understand why I have to-"

"Keep arguing with me and I will make it a point to not buy you shit next grocery trip."

It's an empty threat, but he grunts nonetheless.

"...."

"That's what I thought."

When he finally gets home from his long and admittedly overstimulating day with the Wachowskis, he's ready to recharge in his room.

He teleports through the house door, sighing and rubbing at his temples as he moves to kick off his shoes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd chastise him for not doing so.

Something about tracking dirt and rocket fuel into the carpet.

Whatever.

After trying to massage his brain through his fur, he opens his eyes up to see a colorful banner strung across the mantle.

'Happy birthday!' It screams, in its disgustingly neon color palette.

Shadow wracks his brain for any information of it being your birthday, he knows for a fact it isn't today. A friend you're throwing a party for? Well, that makes no sense, he knows very well you don't have many friends, especially any that you'd invite your house up for.

You're antisocial to a fault, not that he has absolutely any room to talk.

He hears you before he sees you, turning the corner into the living room, carrying some balloons in your hands. A stupid little party hat on your head.

"Shadow! What are you doing back so early?"

Kicking off the last shoe, he stands at his full height, staring into your eyes with a shrug.

"I wasn't aware I had a time."

"....fair enough, anyways, fuck, goddamnit. Stay here. Okay?"

And you're off, running into the kitchen, his ears flick at the slamming of the fridge door, followed by the cabinets being no doubt, hip nudging it shut way too forcefully.

He's awkwardly standing there still until you yell for him to come in.

Shadow has half a mind to ignore you and go into his room, but curiosity kills the cat, so he takes in a deep breath and makes his way to you.

He finds you sitting at the little kitchenette, a nervous smile spread across your lips as you gesture to the plate in front of you.

The smell is apparent, it's a coffee cupcake.

The hedgehog feels his ears flick again, staring down at the desert, then trailing his eyes back to meet your own. Wordlessly asking you what was going on.

"You've never told me your birthday, but it's been a year since you've been here, with me. After the whole trying to destroy the world shit. So since you won't tell me, we can kinda treat this as it?" You keep rambling, eyes flitting around the room, very clearly nervous as to his reaction.

Shadow doesn't say anything, or move even. Just staring down at the cupcake.

It looks amateurish, the frosting is lopsided, and the toppings on it look messy. But you made it for him. You even added a big black "1" candle in the center.

He doesn't know what to say, he can feel heat rush through his body, rushing to his ears and his face, and his fur feels constricting.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

You go to open your mouth again, no doubt to apologize, but he beats you to it.

Moving to scoop up the treat, he gently sniffs it before taking a cautionary bite.

A beat passes between the two of you.

"...it's good."

Shadow does his best to ignore the smile that blooms across your face, not wanting to remember just how pretty he finds you like this.

Disgusting.

Shadow doesn't like touch, you know it, he knows it, and everyone knows it. He's threatened to break Sonic's wrist for even so much as patting the older hedgehog on the back. Baring his sharper fangs and hissing out to not touch him ever.

He avoids group hugs from Team Sonic, avoids Tom and Maddie like the plague, dodging every invitation to be a part of the family, it makes him sick to think about it.

With you, it's a little different.

You're not like them, you don't push him to change, you don't have a problem with how closed off he is, giving him space, never once pushing his very strict boundaries.

Something churns in his chest at the sound of you crying in your room, you probably think you're being incognito, holding a pillow to your face to drown out your sobs.

The internal debate is heavy, Shadow used to be able to comfort, to provide warmth, but he hasn't done so in years. Flashes of memories where he would comfort Maria on her bad health days, letting her run her fingers over his quills, to lend an ear to Gerald when he was frustrated about treatments not working.

It's not to say he is replacing you in their place, but it's scary. To open himself up like that again. He can feel his anxiety rising as he goes over the pros and cons of crossing this line. Eyes squeeze shut forcefully as he tells himself he doesn't care about you, that you're an adult, and you don't need to be babied.

His ears twitch when a pathetic little whimper drops from your lips, and his resolve cracks.

You don't look up when he makes his way in, too stuck in your bubble.

Startling a little when two, much stronger and larger hands grab at your own, peeling them away from the pillow. Your puffy bloodshot eyes looking at the hedgehog in front of you, his face set as it usually is, stoic. But his eyes are different, and his body language is different, when has he ever looked at you so softly? It's jarring.

Oh, he's moving closer. Okay. Weird.

"Shadow? Uh, I'm ok-"

You try and lie, it's a pitiful attempt. Your voice is scratchy and the tear tracks down your cheeks aren't helping your plight.

"No, you're not."

He shuts you down immediately, hands sliding up your arms to drag you into him.

The instant your bodies touch, you feel a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again.

Shadow has you resting against him, your head resting on him as he wraps himself loosely in your arms, giving you the space to move away if you so choose.

It's the first time he's allowed you to hug him, the first time he's ever initiated contact with someone in years. A fact that you both are well aware of.

A sob works its way up your throat, immediately tightening your grip on the hedgehog, curling into him as you shake.

Shadow doesn't say anything, doesn't make fun of you as snot pours from your nose, doesn't point out that your mascara and eyeliner are getting everywhere, just sits there and lets you cling onto him like he's your only lifeline.

He thinks that this is okay, he's strong enough for you both, and you don't need to worry when he's here.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Stood Up & Home

Summary: Y/N plans an anniversary date for her and Spencer, he works through it, standing her up. Will they make it through this?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: fighting, arguing, being stood up, forgotten anniversary, mild panic attack, reminders of parents fighting, crying, self-doubt, not feeling good enough, insecurities

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: can be read alone but it is a blurb from Finding Home Again !!

hahaha sorry! our favorites have fights too :( but they love each other so much

main masterlist

The second Spencer walked through the door, he knew something was off. Y/N was sitting on the couch, still in the clothes she had put on for their date—a dress he hadn’t seen before, something stunning, clearly chosen for a special occasion. Her arms were crossed, and though she tried to keep her face neutral, there was no mistaking the tension in the air.

“Hey,” Spencer said cautiously, closing the door behind him. “I just got your text. Sorry, I got caught up with some paperwork. It’s been a long day.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She just kept staring straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. Spencer paused, sensing the unease.

“Honey?” he tried again, stepping closer. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone clipped, her eyes still fixed on the TV even though it wasn’t playing anything.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You seem… upset.”

Y/N took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. But Spencer wasn’t having it.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, crouching down in front of her, his hands on her knees. “You know what I do for a living, right? I know when you’re lying to me.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she tried to suppress the growing anger. “I’m not lying, Spencer.”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. “Then why won’t you look at me? What’s going on?”

Y/N finally turned her head to face him, her eyes burning with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I had plans tonight,” she said quietly. “Plans that I made specifically for us.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What plans? You didn’t tell me we had anything tonight.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot what?” Spencer asked, still completely unaware.

“Our anniversary, Spencer,” she snapped, finally letting her emotions spill over. “I made reservations at this nice restaurant. I got dressed up, bought this new dress just for tonight, and I’ve been waiting here for hours. And you—” She stopped, her voice shaking. “You text me that you’re doing paperwork.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly pulled out his phone, scrolling through his calendar. “I thought… I thought it was next week,” he muttered, looking up at her, guilt flooding his face. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I really thought—”

“Next week?!” Y/N cut him off, standing up abruptly. “Spencer, how could you forget something like this? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and you didn’t even remember?”

“I swear, I didn’t mean to,” Spencer stammered, standing as well, his hands raised in defense. “I’ve just been so overwhelmed with work lately, and I… I just lost track of time. I thought it was next week.”

Y/N’s hands clenched at her sides, her chest tight with frustration. “Do you know how embarrassing it was? Sitting at the restaurant, waiting for you to show up, and then getting that text? I’ve never felt so stupid.”

Spencer stepped forward, his eyes filled with regret. “You’re not stupid. I’m the one who messed up. I should’ve known, I should’ve been paying more attention.”

Y/N shook her head, backing away. “Spence, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m too mad.”

“But—”

“Please,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, though still laced with hurt. “I just need some space.”

Spencer stood there, helpless, watching her retreat to their bedroom. The weight of his mistake hung heavy between them, and he knew that this wasn’t something a simple apology could fix.

"I’m so sorry, Y/N," he called after her, his voice barely above a whisper.

—

As Y/N sat alone in the bedroom, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm, she couldn't help but feel the familiar sting of rejection creep in. Being stood up by her own fiancé—the man who was supposed to always be there for her—brought up old wounds she thought had since healed. 

Not being good enough… that was the thought echoing in her mind. Not good enough to be remembered. Not good enough to be thought of, to be prioritized, to be shown up for.

She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as the tears began to fall. She had been so excited for tonight, had put in so much effort to make it special. But instead, she was left feeling forgotten. Like she didn’t matter. Like she was invisible.

The hurt festered, and with it came doubt. Maybe she didn’t deserve love. Maybe it was all an illusion—a fantasy she’d been foolish enough to believe in. Love wasn’t real. Not the kind she dreamed of, anyway. 

The idea of retreating into herself felt easier than confronting the hurt. If she let herself grow distant, let herself become numb, maybe she wouldn’t have to feel this crushing disappointment again. Maybe she wouldn’t have to face the painful reality that even the person she loved most in the world could forget about her.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, staring blankly ahead. The weight of the moment felt too heavy, too suffocating. Y/N didn’t know how to pull herself out of it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

All the time spent telling herself she was enough, that she was worthy of love, suddenly felt like lies. Maybe love wasn’t real. Not for her. Maybe it was just a fleeting dream, something she could never hold onto.

 —

Y/N fell asleep that night before Spencer could come into the room, exhaustion from the emotional weight of the evening pulling her into unconsciousness. He sighed heavily when he walked in, the sight of her curled up, already asleep, reminding him of just how badly he had hurt her. Spencer stood at the door for a moment, guilt gnawing at him as he tried to figure out how to fix this, how to make things right again.

A plan slowly began to form in his mind—a do-over date. One that would make up for the disappointment, that would hopefully knock her socks off and make her smile the way he loved so much. But that would have to wait. For now, all he could do was climb into bed next to her and hope for the best. He slid under the covers cautiously, but her body shifted slightly, and despite everything, her sleeping form accepted his arms, pulling her close as if nothing had gone wrong. It gave him a little hope, though it also stung, knowing she was more forgiving in sleep than awake.

—

The next morning, Y/N woke with a brief moment of peace, where everything felt fine, as though the night before hadn’t happened. But as soon as she opened her eyes and felt the weight and stickiness of her forgotten makeup clinging to her skin, the emotions of the previous night came flooding back.

The hurt. The disappointment. The feeling of not being enough.

She slipped out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake Spencer, and made her way to the shower. She needed time to think, to wash away the makeup and the memories, to figure out what to do with all of the feelings swirling inside her. The warm water provided some comfort, but not enough to erase the heavy thoughts weighing her down.

—

Spencer woke up much less pleasantly. The absence of Y/N in the bed next to him and the late hour made his heart race as he scrambled to get dressed, realizing with a sinking feeling that she had left for work without waking him. That wasn’t like her, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

His day didn’t get any better from there. He arrived at the office late, still flustered and breathless as he stumbled into the conference room.

“Reid, you’re late,” Hotch said, not even bothering to look up from his papers.

Spencer tried to catch his breath. “I know, I’m sorry, my alarm didn’t go off.” It was only a partial lie. His alarm, his usual morning routine, was Y/N. She was the one who woke him, who got him moving in the mornings. But today, she had left extra early, avoiding him, and took his alarm with her.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Hotch said sternly, fixing him with a look.

Spencer nodded, regret heavy in his chest. Today was not off to a great start, and he knew there was a lot more work to do if he wanted to make things right with Y/N.

—

Y/N stewed all day long, her mind constantly drifting back to the argument from the night before. She sat at her desk, trying to focus on her work, but the heavy, almost suffocating emotions she was feeling made it nearly impossible to concentrate. She felt like she was wading through quicksand, trying to accomplish tasks, but every time she made a little progress, she was dragged back down by the weight of her thoughts.

She got enough done to get by, her inbox was cleared, and she responded to a few emails, but none of it felt satisfying. Nothing could distract her from the overwhelming emotions swirling inside her—hurt, anger, sadness, and something deeper that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was like a knot in her chest that refused to loosen, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

And then came the shame. Y/N felt silly, letting something as small as a missed anniversary and an argument throw such a huge wrench into her life. She’d always prided herself on being strong, independent, and capable of handling whatever came her way. But this…this was different. The hurt she felt was real, and no amount of logic could untangle the mess in her head.

Yet, even as she chastised herself for feeling this way, she knew she had to remind herself of something important: her feelings mattered. They were valid, no matter how small or silly they seemed to her. The pain she felt, the disappointment and frustration—they were real, and they deserved to be acknowledged.

And more importantly, she needed to believe it too.

—

When Spencer arrived home that night, everything seemed oddly normal—eerily so. Y/N had made dinner, and she was sitting in front of the TV, her plate balanced on her lap as she ate. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of her, feeling the tension that still simmered between them.

"Hey, baby," he called out cautiously, testing the waters.

"Hi," she responded, not turning around to look at him. "Pasta’s on the stove, veggies are in the oven."

"Thank you," Spencer said, his heart lifting slightly. Maybe she just needed some time, maybe they were already past this. He smiled gratefully and set about fixing himself a plate, trying to convince himself that the worst was behind them.

They sat together, eating their dinner in front of the TV, making small talk about their days. The news played in the background, but neither was really paying attention. It wasn’t until Spencer casually mentioned Hotch chewing him out for being late that the atmosphere shifted.

"Why were you late?" Y/N asked, genuinely curious, unaware of how her actions that morning had contributed.

Spencer coughed, feeling awkward. He scratched his arm and shifted uncomfortably. "Well... usually you wake me up."

Y/N looked at him, confused. "Me? You don’t set an alarm?"

Spencer let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Have you ever heard an alarm go off?"

"Yeah, it wakes us both up," she replied, still not understanding.

"Right... and it’s on your phone," Spencer explained.

"Oh," Y/N pondered for a second, realization dawning on her. "Didn’t think about that. Sorry," she shrugged, dismissing it casually.

That casual response set off a spark of anger in Spencer. How could she not care? He’d been chewed out by Hotch, and she acted like it was no big deal. "I got in trouble with my boss, Y/N," he said, a bite of frustration slipping into his voice.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "I don’t see how that’s my fault."

"You took the alarm!" Spencer raised his voice, frustration boiling over.

Y/N stood up abruptly, putting distance between them. "You are a grown man, Spencer. You lived by yourself for years. You cannot hold me responsible for your lack of preparedness," she snapped, her voice trembling with anger.

Spencer stood as well, a sharp, almost cruel look in his eyes. "I’m sorry I forgot our anniversary, and I’m going to make it up to you. But you can’t just run away every time you get upset. It affects my life too!"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, his words cutting her deeply. "You’re really throwing that in my face right now?" she choked, her voice full of hurt.

"If the shoe fits," Spencer bit out, anger seething beneath his words.

That was it. Y/N’s heart shattered at his cruel words, feeling once again like she wasn’t good enough. The insecurities she had tried so hard to suppress came flooding back. In a surge of emotion, she ripped the engagement ring off her finger and threw it at Spencer's chest before running to the bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Spencer stood frozen, staring down at the ring that had fallen to the floor. A panic attack gripped him, his chest tightening as he struggled to breathe. His mind was racing, and all he could think about was losing her—the one person who made him feel safe, the one person he loved more than anything.

The sight of the ring on the floor reminded him too much of his parents’ arguments, the screaming, the feeling of helplessness. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn’t lose her.

"Y/N!" Spencer ran to the bedroom door, knocking frantically. "Please, let me in. Please! I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean it. I just need to hold you. Please… I can’t—just... don’t go. Please."

Inside, Y/N was crying into the pillows, her body wracked with sobs. She could hear the panic in his voice, and despite the anger and hurt, her heart ached for him. She knew this wasn’t how they should be, this wasn’t them.

After what felt like an eternity, she unlocked the door and opened it just a crack. Spencer practically stumbled inside, his face pale and his eyes red from holding back his own tears.

Y/N let him hold her, let him wrap his arms around her tightly as if she might disappear if he let go. He buried his face in her neck, shaking as he whispered his apologies over and over.

But even as he held her, Y/N knew they couldn’t just brush this under the rug. She let him hold her because she loved him, but she wasn’t going to let the argument end here. Not without addressing the hurt that had bubbled to the surface.

“We need to talk about this,” she said softly, her voice still thick with tears. "We can’t just… let this go." 

“I know,” Spencer whispered back, holding her even tighter. “We will. I promise.” 

But for now, they stayed like that—holding each other, letting their tears dry together, knowing that they had a lot of healing to do, but also knowing that they were willing to try.

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

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[writeriguess]

Hi!! Can you write a reader x Jason where the reader over hears a girl saying how she’s not “hot enough” to be with Jason

You had always loved this part of Gotham, a little quieter than the rest of the city, and Jason had insisted on taking you here for a rare, peaceful lunch date. The streets were lined with cozy cafes, and the sun peeked through the buildings, a rare sight in Gotham’s gloom. Jason had gone inside to grab your drinks, leaving you at the outdoor table, content to bask in the rare warmth of the afternoon.

As you scrolled through your phone, you couldn’t help but overhear a conversation nearby. Two women stood at the café’s window, one of them glancing over at you with a smug expression.

“I mean, seriously, her? Jason Todd could do way better," one of them said, laughing under her breath. "She’s not even that hot. Not the type of girl I’d expect to see with a guy like him. Have you seen him?"

Your heart sank instantly. You had heard similar comments before. Jason was drop-dead gorgeous, with his dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a body that screamed danger in all the right ways. The two of you together often raised eyebrows, and though Jason never cared, it still stung.

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, trying to tune out their words, but they just kept going.

"He needs someone who can keep up with him. Someone who looks like she belongs on his arm. That girl just… doesn’t."

You wanted to disappear. As much as you tried not to let it bother you, their words gnawed at your insecurities. Jason could have anyone he wanted—anyone. So why did he choose you?

Just as you were about to get up, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Jason. He must have caught the tail end of the conversation too, because his posture immediately stiffened, a flash of anger crossing his face. Without hesitation, he set down the coffees and walked straight over to the two women, who hadn’t even noticed his arrival.

“Excuse me,” he said, voice low but dangerous. The women froze, their faces paling as they realized who was addressing them. “You got something to say about my girl?”

The taller of the two stammered, trying to backtrack. “Oh, um, no! We were just… uh…”

Jason stepped closer, his glare making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for excuses. “Good, because if you do, you can say it to her face. She’s sitting right over there. Or are you too chicken to actually back up what you were saying?”

The two women looked mortified, exchanging glances before awkwardly mumbling apologies and scurrying off. Jason didn’t even watch them leave, his attention already back on you.

As he returned to your table, his expression softened immediately. He crouched down next to you, reaching out to take your hand in his.

“You okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You nodded, though your throat felt tight. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Jason’s eyes searched yours, concern flickering in them. “You know none of that crap matters, right? They don’t know you. Hell, they don’t know me if they think I care about superficial stuff like that.”

You gave him a small, shaky smile, but he wasn’t done. His gaze turned serious, his voice quiet but firm.

“You’re more than enough for me. You’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re beautiful. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not. I chose you because I love you, not some perfect idea of what someone else thinks I should want.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, trying not to let the emotion spill over. His words hit you deep, and it was in moments like this that you were reminded of just how much he truly cared for you—how fiercely he would defend you, even from your own doubts.

You squeezed his hand, smiling more genuinely now. “I love you too, Jason. It’s just… hard, sometimes.”

“I know,” he replied softly. He stood up, pulling you into his arms. “But you’ll never have to deal with that alone. I’ve got your back, always.”

You melted into his embrace, feeling safe and grounded. Jason pressed a kiss to the top of your head before pulling back, a small smirk on his lips.

“And just for the record,” he added, his tone lighter, “you’re way hotter than any of those girls. Not that it matters, but I thought you should know.”

You laughed, finally feeling the tension from earlier melt away completely. With Jason by your side, no words from strangers could ever tear you down. You were more than enough—and that’s all that mattered.

Requests are open.

[magnolias-make-me-happy]

warnings: dirty talk,smutty smut,miguel o'hara

just watched across the spiderverse nd now i'm feral so enjoy my lovlies <3 (also peep the titanic reference)

No thoughts just this image of slow, nasty sex with miguel o’hara, his hips rocking into yours at an agonizingly slow pace. He's got his head in your neck and his arms wrapped around the back of your head holding you as close as humanly possible to him “that’s it cariño, such a good girl” he groans in your ear, his heavy panting warming your neck as he ruts into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper at the heavy feeling of pleasure permeating the room. “m-miguel” you manage to get out in between pants, your hands squeezing and clawing at his back leaving red lines in their wake “fuck” he hisses and you feel his fangs graze your neck sending a shiver down your spine, you gasp and arch up into his chest “shit miggy, so good” your words seem to slur as you toss your head back into the pillow as much as you can

as your hands slide down to his lower back to push him in further, miguel pulls away just enough to lean on his elbows “mírame mi amor” he purrs. You struggle to open your eyes but when you do you’re met with what you believe is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen

miguel’s hair is stuck to the skin of his forehead, pieces sticking up in odd places from being yanked on, his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth is slightly open with the most sinful grunts falling from his lips, and his body is covered in a delicious sheen of sweat. that coupled with the sight of him rocking into your body is enough to make you cum right then and there. 

Jesus he looks like a god

He fucks like one too 

Miguel’s eyes are searching your face, memorizing every gasp, every contortion of pleasure, he loves nights like this. Where all that can be heard is the sound of your little whimpers and gasps of his name, where all he can feel in his entire being is the wet, warm pull of his cock inside of you. He gives one particularly hard thrust and it jolts you slightly up the bed “jesus! fuck-mm” the breath feels like it’s being knocked out of you as you approach that feeling of complete euphoria that only miguel can give you, his hips change pace and suddenly every thrust is almost impossibly deeper than the last. His hand slides down your body until it hooks under your knee and pulls your leg around his waist, as your legs lock around his back a growl rips through his body 

“se siente demasiado bien cariño” he rushes out in a pleasure filled groan, his hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls your head up to meet him in a desperate kiss. It’s wet and sloppy and feels so good as his hips continue to slam into yours, his pelvis catches your clit and you break the kiss, throwing your head back and moaning “ah-por favor miguel” he hangs his head to rest it against your shoulder, he lets out the most toe curling laugh “pobre bebé” he says in a mocking tone “puedes tómalo hmm? i know you can, such a good fucking girl for papi”

His words go straight to your core and you clench around his cock as he grunts “sí papi, make me cum” you whine “un poco más mamí, then you can cum all over this big cock yeah? I know you want it, tell me” miguel picks up his pace, the wet squelching sound filling the room “mierda, hear that? this pussy loves my thick cock, practically pullin’ me back in” tears start to roll down your eyes as you feel that burning fire in your stomach begin to flood all over your body “please miguel, m’so close i can’t-” you trail off as you get lost in the drag of miguel's cock, you can feel his thrusts getting rougher and his breathing quicker and you can tell that he’s close too 

“tell me you want it, baby” he breathes from above you, “fuck! I want it miguel please, wanna cum” your body feels like jello, all thought escaping your brain until there's nothing left but miguel. “cum” he orders, your pussy contracts around him while that band finally snaps, your legs shake and your nails dig into his sides as his hips continue to snap into yours, riding out your orgasm. he moans and speeds up his unforgiving pace “coño, buena chica,tómalo, tómalo” he captures your lips in his, his moans muffled as he spills into you, warmth spreading throughout your lower body

Miguel slips onto his forearms, his muscles taut and body absolutely covered in sweat. You roam your hands over his body, soothing him. “you’re trembling” you whispered, he offers you a lazy smile “i’ll be okay” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his broad chest expanding “so are you cariño” he says as he opens his eyes, you smile up at him. This beautiful greek sculpture of a man lying above you “yeah well that’s because i was fucked within an inch of my life so, whose fault is that” he respondes with a shake of his head and a small smile on his lips as he presses soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly slides off of you and heads to the bathroom

after a minute you can hear the water running, miguel appeared in your shared bedroom doorway “wanna take a bath with me mamí?” he holds out a hand for you to take, you beam at him before you start to make your way out of your bed only to realize something. “uh miguel?” “hmm?” 

“i can’t move my legs”

Translations:

cariño: sweetheart/dear

se siente demasiado bien: feels too good

por favor: please

pobre bebé: poor baby

puedes tomarlo: you can take it 

un poco más: just a little more

mierda: shit

coño: fuck 

buena chica: good girl 

tómalo: take it

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Four

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Drinking, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), orgasms!!! MDNI

Side note: The house has solar panels and though probably unrealistic, for the story they have some electricity

Masterlist

Price could see it. The nerves bubbling in your stomach, cheeks flushed with an ample shade of red.

He watched you turn, wet clothes drawn to your subtle curves, the swell of your hips outlined as you jogged away. He continued sweeping, smile evident through the crinkle of his eyes with an occasional glance at the door, hoping you would come back and tell him that you did in fact, need help keeping warm.

As soon as you stepped foot inside, you were darting past Gaz, tumbling straight to your bedroom. Your clothes were uncomfortable, sticking to your skin like a disease as you peeled them off and slapped them against the tub, a large thump ringing out.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your upper half visible as you cupped the brassiere, Price’s words replaying in your mind as you stared, pushing your breasts together in an attempt to feel sexy before letting out a soft groan and unclipping it.

For the most part, you had made do with clothes, having brought a couple when things went to shit and you were somewhat glad that the woman who lived here before you wasn’t completely out of touch with her style. You smoothed the long sleeve down as you brushed your drenched hair out, ringing it into a bun.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pulling at your cheeks before you began to talk in an attempt to see what they saw when they looked at you. You posed in the mirror before freezing, realising how ridiculous you were being before you plonked downstairs, the sound of your footsteps barely visible thanks to the massive socks you were wearing.

You rummaged through your bag that you had thrown to the side, stocking the cupboards with the tins you had found at the store and the large bag of sugar that you would hopefully be able to bake with, almost tempted to swallow a raw spoonful right now.

You heard the back door shut, a much wetter Price trailing in, stripping off his jacket. Your gaze faltered for a second, taking in the way his clothes clung to his frame, like he did to you, before you looked away.

“Need help?” He asked, his tone almost soothing.

“Didn’t get much, just some tinned vegetables and a bag of sugar. The rest is personal.”

Blue eyes flickered to your bag in curiosity, the hint of a black lid poking out through the top as he raised a thick brow at you. His laugh was almost dry as he walked over and grabbed it, holding it up to the light as the caramel hues swished around.

He muttered something along the lines of, ‘I’ll be damned’ before placing it back on the counter. He paused for a moment, taking you in, the way your lips slightly parted, eyebrows slightly clenched, almost like you wanted to look intimidating and the way your eyes would drop when he looked at you for too long, struggling to find something in the room to focus on.

“You let me know if you need any help with your personal issues, yeah?”

He was talking about drinking the whiskey, you know that, but the way his eyes flickered to your chest, shirt slightly clung to you, the gentle outline of your nipples coaxing through the thin material had your heart pumping faster.

Time passed as you continued to sew, holding the fabric up to yourself, a row of pins stabbed into a tiny cushion to your side. Gaz had settled in the lounge room next to you, eyes occasionally darting to watch you before returning to the page of his book.

You yelped, a loud thump bellowing from outside as you took in the burly frames of two men… and the dead deer laying on the porch. A small buzz sounded through your ears as you looked down, your needle winced through your skin, a shock jolting through you as you picked it out, the instant welcoming of blood streaming down your finger.

Gaz looked at you and then down to your finger, blood evidently slithering down it as he jumped up. “Shit, you ok?”

You nodded, clutching it as you walked over to the sink, an evident wince jolting your frame as you held it under the tap.

“Ay bonnie, didn’t mean to scare you. Y’ alright?” The Scotsman said, stepping inside the house as he shook off like a dog.

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you felt Gaz’s hand grab yours, holding a wet wad of toilet paper to the tiny, yet painful, wound.

“You got bandages?” He said, voice almost a whisper, like it was only meant for you to hear.

“Inside the shared bathroom upstairs, under the cabinet.” Your tone was gentle, it almost felt unusual to use. You watched him nod, bolting upstairs as Soap rushed over, his mohawk extra pointy due to the rain causing a light laugh to pass your lips.

“Aye lass, I’m sorry,” he said, hand wrapping around your finger as he pressed tightly on the wound to constrict the bleeding. Your body twitched slightly, as the pain began to subside at the pressure.

Gaz walked back over, gently unwrapping the makeshift cotton bud as he wrapped the plaster around it, a small prickle of blood quickly disappearing under the sticky beige. You rustled away from the pair as you walked back over to the couch.

Ghost stood there, eyes focused on your every move.

“You’re dripping all over the floor,” you muttered, his gaze dropping to the small puddle he was forming at his feet before he grunted, heavy feet stomping up the stairs.

“Y’ making a skirt?” Soap asked, tone curious as he held up the fabric before plonking down next to you, his weight causing u to sink further into the old couch.

“Trying to,” you replied, taking the skirt from him and placing it on the plush mannequin you found hidden away in the basement months ago.

“Looks good,” Gaz interjected, taking a seat across from you both.

You frowned, suddenly overwhelmed as you looked at the carcass on the porch. “You should prepare that before flies get to it,” you snap, voice coming off more harsh than you intended it too as you glanced at the deer, Soap agreeing with a smile before him and Gaz disappeared out the back door.

It was strange, you weren’t used to sound, especially not the sound of four men. It made your toes curl, heat coiling in your belly both in anxiety… and in more, yet you couldn’t quite place it.

You felt out of place in your own home as you managed to slink out of your room before walking back and forth infront of the stairs, overthinking your entrance.

You weren’t sure why it mattered so much. None of this was permanent. Sure, you had four giant (and good looking) military men laughing and talking in your kitchen. Nothing major.

Your feet graced the stairs as you braced yourself, stomach in tight fits of heat as you entered the kitchen, their voices hushing as they looked at you.

“Hope you don’t mind that we cooked,” Soap quipped, bright smile on his face as he gestured towards the prepared food.

“No, that’s good, thank you,” you say, voice shallow, almost hesitant. They led themselves to the dining room as you paused, glancing towards your half open bag. With five glasses in your hand and a plate of food in the other, you looked down at the heavy bottle wedged in your pants pocket, almost nervous they would drag them down.

You entered and hesitantly placed the glasses on the table along with your food before sitting. Everyone paused for a moment, the room silent before you awkwardly held up the bottle of whiskey, shy smile on your face as they erupted in bashful cheers. You could even almost notice a small smile under Ghost’s mask.

The night felt more fitting now, your body feeling more relaxed and loose as you took a swig out of your glass. Your throat burned for a second, eyes welling with tears as you forced the mixture down your throat before you sighed, heat spreading through your chest as you passed the bottle to Gaz.

“You ain’ told us much about yourself bonnie, let us know who you wer’ before all this shite occurred,” Soap slurred, accent heavier in his slightly drunken state.

You hiccuped, the whiskey making you feel more comfortable as you tried to remember what life was like 297 days ago. “Um, well I turned 24 just before everything began and I worked at a, um, medical centre about four hours from here I guess. My dad owned a restaurant so I worked there occasionally when he needed it but for the most part I lived with my, uh, bestfriend.”

“An’ what happened to her?” Soap blurted as Gaz nudged him, noticing the way your eyes looked down for a second.

“She didn’t make it. She actually,” you paused, “She actually shoved me into a crowd of zombies to escape but uh, I guess it didn’t really work out for her.” You debated telling them that somehow, for some inapplicable reason, you were invisible, immune, to the walking dead. But you didn’t.

“How’d ya survive that?” A gruff voice said as you snapped your eyes to Ghost.

“Don’t know. She had cut her hand open and she was making a lot of noise… guess she looked more edible,” you said, letting out a dry laugh to lighten the mood.

“Doubt that,” Price grumbled, taking a swig as you blushed at his innuendo.

“Um, what about you guys? You were in the military, how was it?”

They laughed.

“It was what it was. We were damn good at it, all of us, I’ll tell you that much,” Price laughed, a hand clamping Ghost’s shoulder for a second before they turned back to you.

You smiled before you looked outside, the dull light above you imposing a low glow across the room. The wind was harshing, rattling against the windows as rain poured down. They followed your gaze as you cleared your throat.

“I can’t send you guys out in that weather,” you began, almost losing your confidence as they looked at you, hopeful gleams on their faces, “you guys are welcome to stay another night, AS LONG as someone wakes up tomorrow and feeds the animals. I would like a sleep in.”

“Aye lass, I’ll do it,” Soap cheered, harsh hand slapping the table as he poured another shout out for everyone. You watched him hold his glass in the air, gesturing that he wanted to cheers before you reluctantly clinked the glasses together, another rowdy chorus coming from both him and Gaz.

You weren’t quite sure what time it was, all you had known was you had been sitting down here, huddled around the dining table drinking and talking for hours. It was calm, entertaining almost.

Gaz was rambling on about a mission they had done a while back, something about terrorists as you slightly zoned out, eyes fixated on the bulging veins running up Ghost’s forearm.

Price cleared his throat as you looked up. “Don’t be zoning out on us bonnie, I was asking if you had a boyfriend,” Soap hiccuped, drunk out of his mind.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the y, “it is time for me to head to bed. Goodnight everyone.” You heard a chorus of groans as you waved while exiting, subtle smile laced across your face as you stumbled up the stairs.

You changed, tucking yourself in slightly as you closed your blinds. You stilled at the soft knock on the door, the familiar face of Price peaking through before gently opening it fully.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, “Sorry about Soap, lad gets a bit too confident when he’s drunk.”

You looked at him, the heat of the alcohol still pulling in your chest, nestling in the crevice of your belly as you offered him a polite smile.

“It’s okay, wasn’t uncomfortable by anything, just thought it would be my queue to head up.” He nodded in reply. You could feel his hesitation, one foot in the door, the other out as he attempted to conjure something to say.

You stood up, looking up at him as you let out a low breath. No one said anything, both barely moved, bodies parallel, eyes locked. You felt Price push a strand of hair behind your ear, delicate eyes landing on your lips before looking back up.

Your pupils flickered back and forth, looking at him, almost waiting as he did the same before you licked your lips, coating them with a layer of saliva before gently nodding. You didn’t even need to say anything, he knew.

His lips tasted of whiskey, soft beard gently scratching against your cheeks as your teeth kissed. You felt the door shut, his hands reaching down to grope your ass, fingers nimbly digging into the flesh as you both tumbled backwards, lips interlocked.

Your back fell flush against your pillow, rough hands sliding underneath your shirt, mauling at your tits before resting on your nipples, hardened buds puckering through your shirt as he groaned. His hands were desperate as he pulled your top up, sucking in a deep breath as he took in the sight of your bare chest.

“Jesus,” he whispered and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t so focused on his swollen lips, your hands pulling him by the back of the neck into you again. You both groaned against each others mouths, tongues lapping up the taste of each other and the taste of the alcohol that stained your mouths.

Price’s hands grabbed at your chest, fingers rolling your nipples in between each other, a soft gasp leaving your mouth before you watched him pull away, bending down to take one into his mouth.

You let out a guttural groan, your hand slapping across your lips to conceal yourself from making too much noise. He didn’t break eye contact, cerulean voids staring back at you, hands pawing your free breast and your waist, rubbing and kneading.

You felt his hands tugging at your pants, hips raising automatically for him to remove them. Thank God you shaved earlier. He let out a dry laugh, the evident patch of arousal staining your panties a darker shade of grey as you felt his thumb press against the middle, smearing it around.

“Do you want this?” He asked, thumb stilling for a second as he looked at you for any signs of hesitation. You nodded, head bobbing desperately as you bucked your hips for some friction before his hand crashed down, holding you in place.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes, yes, I want this,” you rushed out before you let out a gentle whine, thumb pressing against your clothed clit, applying a teasing amount of pressure. You relaxed against the pillow, your neck on display as he took initiative, lips grazing against the tender skin as he sucked and licked, no doubt leaving an obvious mark, a claim.

“Gotta take these off,” he spat, hands gripping at the lace, practically burning the fabric against your skin as he ripped them off. You shut your legs instinctively, a harsh slap landing on your thigh as you yelped. “Keep em open sweetheart.”

Your lips were a mix of breathy whines and soft pants as you felt his lips against your thigh, the prickle of his facial hair adding to your desperation as you bucked your hips, his veiny hand landing on your stomach to hold you in place.

You almost screamed in need as you felt his lip against your clit, merely kissing it before you felt his hand touch over it, your heat most likely radiating off of you before two fingers spread you apart, slick clinging to your sex as you let out a muffled whine of humiliation. You were so bare to his eyes, so exposed. You heard him shudder, eyes looking up at you before back down to your pussy, clit throbbing in anticipation.

The guttural sound that escape your mouth when you felt his tongue lick a stripe of your slit was borderline embarrassing as your thighs clamped around his head. Price’s tongue was impetuous as he licked, slurping up whatever he could taste of you as you bucked and whined.

Clammy hands pawed at your tits as he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he lapped like a madman. You felt him everywhere, the taste of him in your mouth, his hands on your chest and his lips on your wet cunt, eating as if it was his last meal.

You hadn’t felt this good in - ever. It took 24 years of your life and an apocalypse to finally get your pussy ate right.

You mewled at the overwhelming sensation, the coil quickly building up in your belly, aggravated to release as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, as you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy. You were a sight of pathetic moans, hips greedily grinding against his face as you reached your high.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you whined as you felt his tongue dive back down, plunging at your leaking hole, nose rubbing against your sensitive bud as you whined, the overwhelming feeling of him pulling at your nipples sending you into an overdrive as you threw your head back.

Your back arched, head throwing itself back along with your eyes as your legs shook. You could feel your pussy clenching around his tongue as rough skin met your clit, pinching slightly as you squealed, your body wracking with overstimulation.

“That’s it baby, take what you need,” he groaned against your sex, tongue continuing to lap at your newly spilling juices, strings of your slick coating his beard and moustache just like you imagined it that first night.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance before you gasped, the stretch of his two fingers (equaling probably 3.. maybe 4 of yours) burned through your body as you felt his other hand moving circles around your twitching clit, the need to orgasm already coaxing through you again at the overstimulation.

His fingers moved slowly, feeling around your gummy walls, searching for your sweet spot before your body jerked. There it was.

It was a continuous movement, rubbing and nudging continuously at the place that had you practically gnawing into your fist. His fingers almost scissoring you open before his mouth latched down again, licking greedily at the flowing slick.

A strings of expletives left your mouth as you gripped his hair, tugging at the roots, your spare hand toying with your own nipples as you watched him fuck you open on his massive digits.

“This what you needed, huh? Needed to be fucked out on someone’s fingers? Did yours make you feel like this baby?” He cooed, tongue lapping lazily against your clit as he watched you shake your head furiously, pants leaving your lips like a dog without water as you chased your second high.

“I’m gonna-“ you began before you practically screamed out, his lips sucking against your clit again, fingers fucking into you at the perfect speed, filling every corner with pure bliss before you were coming again, hips bucking as your legs vibrated against his shoulders, a small line of drool pooling out of your lips as he fingered you through your orgasm.

“Just like that love, such a good fucking girl.” His voice was almost a growl, fingers slowing down as he slurped, his head resting against your thigh as he watched your fucked out expression.

He didn’t stop, his movements only becoming more gentle before you whined, nudging his head away at the overstimulation. You felt empty when he pulled his fingers out as you looked down at your pussy, your clit swollen, the crevice of your ass coated with your slick, a soft pool leaking onto your blankets.

The bed jerked as he got up, the leaky sound of the tap opening almost startling you before he came back. “Open em love,” he murmured as you obliged. The damp towelette soothed you as he wiped you up, cleaning you up before chucking it in the bath. “Can wash that tomorrow,” he hummed before looking at you, still standing.

“Did you want me to le-“

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Need to take you up on that offer of keeping me warm. Is that ok?”

“More than.”

[sunrizef1]

Back in Japan

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing

Summary: You and Logan visit a restaurant and get your picture printed on the wall. Three years later, you’ve broken up and Logan’s right back where the picture came from.

Requested: Yes/No

“Have you ever been here before?”

Logan glances over at you, tilting his head to the side for a few seconds before shaking it, “No.”

He really hadn't. He didn't get around to Japan very often. The only reason he was here is because you wanted to visit during the off-season, trying to make the most of the rare break your boyfriend gets.

Logan notices the shiver that runs through you after his answer, the December air causing your shoulders to shake slightly. He reaches over, pulling you into his side. You shift closer to him, suddenly cursing your decision to wear such a thin shirt.

Luckily, the walk from the parking lot to the door of the restaurant is short, blessing you with a relieving respite from the cold winter breeze.

Logan, to his own discontent, untangles himself from around your shoulder after you've both walked in.

You're immediately greeted by a happy-looking older man, his hand coming up to wave at the two of you as you enter. Food stains line his apron and Logan can see a small notebook peeking out of his pocket, scribbles he can't really understand lining the pages. His glasses are fogged with steam, the man having to reach up to clear the lenses. The small name tag pinned to his shirt has Japanese lettering but, under it, there's what Logan assumes is the English translation, “Hiro.”

“Welcome! Welcome!,” Hiro shouts out as he walks toward the pair from out of the kitchen behind him, “Sit anywhere, please!”

Logan nods with a smile, turning as you grasp his hand and start to pull him through the restaurant, navigating around chairs and tables before coming to a stop at a booth in the corner.

You slide to one side and Logan sits across from you, his knees knocking against your now-crossed legs.

It's not much longer before Hiro walks up, setting two cups of water on the table along with two menus. He drops down two straws as well before he stands up straight, a large grin on his face, “Drinks?”

You smile politely, basking in the man’s joy, “I’m fine with water.”

Hiro nods before turning his attention to Logan who nods as well, “Water’s good for me.”

The older man nods, smiling politely before stepping back, “I’ll be back to take your food order in a minute.”

You both gleam, nodding as he walks away before turning to each other.

“Do you know what you want?” You ask your boyfriend, a grin settled on your lips.

Logan shakes his head, grinning as well, “No idea.”

You laugh, looking down at the menu in front of you. Logan just watches you for a few seconds, noticing the way you bite your lip as you focus on the words, eyebrows furrowed slightly in decision.

He does eventually look down as well, though, eyes drifting across the menu items. He honestly has no idea what to order, the pure spectrum of unknown items practically sending his brain into a spiral. But then his gaze is caught by an item he’d had a million times and he lets out a relieved breath. Sushi. He loves sushi. He decides he’ll just order that and then pick off your plate, knowing you’ll, no doubt, pick something he’d never had.

He’s proven right when Hiro comes back and he doesn’t recognize your order, wincing slightly as he’s forced to order sushi after you, making him really seem like the tourist he was.

When Hiro walks away to go put in your order, Logan looks up to see you holding back a laugh. When your own eyes catch his, you fall victim to your own humor, the giggle echoing out of your mouth.

Logan rolls his eyes playfully, leaning his elbows on the table, “What?”

You quiet slightly but your grin is ever-present as you explain, an occasional laugh spilling out of you, “You looked so awkward when you ordered!”

Logan huffs, leaning back and glancing around defensively, “Well how could I not be?! You ordered like a person of culture and I ordered sushi! Like a tourist!”

“You are a tourist!” You laugh, resting your own elbows on the table and leaning toward your boyfriend. There’s a sparkle in your eye as you say it, a sight Logan would never get tired of.

Logan scoffs, matching your posture in leaning on the table, “So are you!”

You laugh again, your eyelids falling closed as your head tilts up momentarily. When your head falls back and your eyes drift open, your met with your boyfriends smiling face, his slight laugh only fueled by your own.

Logan gazes at you for a few moments, basking in the happiness between you. You stare back, tilting your head as your eyes rake over his face. Logan’s pretty sure he’d do anything to stay in this moment forever, just watching your happiness.

After a few seconds, the warm moment starts to fade so Logan leans up, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before falling back into his seat and picking up his water, taking a long sip.

His affection seems to have frozen you as you still, eyes wide. Logan’s almost concerned but then you grin, cheeks heating as you lean back as well, picking up your own water to try and cool your face. Logan smirks.

Conversation flows between you smoothly, topics ranging from the upcoming season to your shared London home to your dog, Archer and even drifting to the topic of the most recent season of Love Island.

Eventually, the food does come, Logan being presented with your sushi and a bowl of what looks like stew of some sort is placed in front of you.

Logan watches you pick up your utensils first, biting into some kind of noodle that was in your soup, prompting him to pick up his own chopsticks.

You hum lightly as you take a sip of the broth in your bowl, smiling absently as you take another bite. Logan catches a piece of sushi between his chopsticks and raises it to his mouth, relishing in the taste of fish and rice hitting his tongue.

“D’ya wanna bite?” you manage to ask Logan through a bite of your stew, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you ask, attempting to retain some amount of etiquette.

Logan looks between your face and the bite of stew you're offering him a couple times, conceding when he catches your eye and you grin, “Sure.”

He leans forward and you hold the food up to his lips, pulling away as soon as he's got it. It takes a few moments for the taste to register in his mouth but when it does, he hums warmly, eyebrows furrowing.

“Good?” you question, your face lit up as you take in his response.

Logan nods, swallowing down the stew, “Very good.”

You look down, pleased, to dip your spoon back in and take a sip of the broth. You look back up as you sip it, smiling at your boyfriend who laughs and takes another bite of his own food.

You both sit at the table for another hour or so, finishing your food and scarfing down whatever dessert Hiro had suggested for you.

Logan practically scoffs when you try an pay, gently slapping your hand away. You roll your eyes but concede, leaning back with crossed arms as Logan looks your way, a satisfied look on his face.

“You ready to go?” Logan asks you once he's paid, quirking his head as he points his gaze your way.

You hum, nodding as you start to slide out of the booth. Logan stands up first, swinging an arm around your shoulder once you manage to get up. Your head falls onto his shoulder, a small hum escaping your throat.

“You tired?” Logan asks, steering you both away from the booth. You don't respond, simply nodding your head against his shoulder.

“Well, we’ll get out of here and head straight back to the hotel. You can even sleep in, we’re not doing anything tommorow morning.”

You hum again and Logan smiles at the thought of getting to sleep in with you for once.

As you both start to reach the door, you stop, causing Logans arm to slip off your shoulder. He's about to turn to the door and hold it open for you when he hears you call out.

“Wait, Lo, look,” Logan turns his head to see you gesturing widely at the wall next to the door. He concedes, slipping away from the door to stand back by your side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Your attention is still stuck on the wall so Logan looks as well, observing whatever had made you so attentive. He's met with maybe a hundred Polaroid pictures, all of happy friends and couples and families, grinning as they pose together. Logan glances over to see you staring at one specific photograph, a soft smile on your lips. He looks closer and sees that's its of an old couple, the mans arm wrapped around the woman as she places a kiss on his cheek.

“Thats so wonderful,” you practically whisper, eyes starry as you glance back over to Logan who smiles warmly.

You take one last look at the photograph of the older couple before you turn and practically launch yourself at Logan, giving him a tight hug before falling into his side. Logan, not exactly prepared for the hug, leans back slightly, laugh echoing from his throat.

As you turn, Hiro walks out of the kitchen, camera in hand. He holds it up with a gleeful grin, gesturing over your head to the wall you'd been staring at, “Do you two want to take a picture? For the wall?”

Logan can feel you straighten up, looking over to catch the excited look on your face, “We’d love to! Come on, Lo.”

Logan lets you turn him toward the camera, wrapping an arm around your waist as you lean into him. He glances over to Hiro, who's smiling widely at your obvious happiness. He holds up the camera and Logan smiles, face heating when you press an unexpected kiss to his cheek.

The camera flashes and you laugh slightly, pulling away from Logan who turns to press a kiss to the side of your head, trying to hide the red on his cheeks.

You pull away from the kiss, smiling when you see Logan’s flushed face. Hiro pulls the picture out, the picture developing quickly in his hand. You step away from Logan to watch Hiro stick it to the wall next to the picture of the older couple that you’d pointed out earlier.

“Ah, look, Lo!” Your bright grin practically forces Logan to walk over to you, the sight of your smile almost magnetic. He glances over as you point to the picture, admiring the way your picture almost perfectly mirrored the one next to it.

Logan lets out a small breath, lips upturning, “It’s cute.”

“Yeah, it is,” you laugh, turning your boyfriend away from the wall by the crook of his elbow, no doubt eager to get back to the hotel and sleep.

Hiro chuckles as you turn away, Logan leading you to the door. You turn your head to look back at the restaurants owner, bringing a hand up to wave, “Bye, Hiro! Thank you!”

“Of course, come back anytime!” Logan turns his head to nod politely at Hiro before he turns back around and steers you both out the door, sliding it open with the hand not wrapped around your torso.

The cold, night air immediately hits you both and you lean farther into Logan side, his hand moving to run over the skin of your shoulder in an attempt to warm you up a bit.

“Dinner was nice,” you say quietly, burrowing into your boyfriend’s side, “Thank you, Lo.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Of course, baby. Did you like your food?”

“Mhm,” you hum, stifling a yawn as you both reach Logan’s car. You stop in front of it but, instead of walking around to the passengers side, you turn to fully face Logan, “I love you.”

Logan’s face brightens and his cheeks heat as he looks down at the huge grin of your face. You reach your arms around his neck and lean into him, slightly swaying as he grasps your sides between his hands. Logan observes the content look on your face for a few seconds, simply grateful to be here with you right now.

“I love you too,” he finally responds, leaning down to capture your lips with his briefly before pulling away. You hum softly, looking at him with stars in your eyes. Logan’s pretty sure he could stay in this moment forever, swaying under the stars of the Tokyo night sky, your eyes on his face and his arms around your waist, “So much.”

You laugh, pressing another quick kiss to his lips and stepping away to walk to your side of the car, pulling the door open and sliding inside. Logan’s stuck to his spot, a stupid smile on his lips as he watches you walk away.

“You coming?” He hears your voice call from inside the car, causing his feet to actually move back toward you.

And when he falls asleep that night, your arm wrapped around him, he thinks that there’d never been someone so perfect for him.

——

“You ever been here before?” Oscar asks from the drivers seat, glancing over at Logan who’s sitting in the passengers side with a bored look on his face. They’d just pulled into the parking lot of some restaurant in Japan, the weekends race already practically forgotten in their minds.

Logan pockets his phone, having been staring straight down at it since Oscar had started driving. He glances up to answer his friend’s question, a denial already ready on his lips.

But, instead, he’s met with a familiar building in front of him, his brain fighting to push away memories he’d buried deep down over the past three years. He isn’t entirely sure how to answer the question, not wanting to lie but also knowing that if he tells the truth, Oscar would have questions about his previous visit. Questions he really didn’t want to answer.

So he settles for a half-truth, “Maybe, I don’t really remember much of Japan.”

He wasn’t exactly lying, he’d tried his hardest to not remember most of his time in Japan, the entire trip having your face intertwined in every building and street he passed.

Oscar hums, a small smile on his face as he turns the car off, “I went here last season. With my girlfriend.”

Logan nods, well-aware of the girl Oscar had taken a last-minute plane to Japan for after Suzuka last season. He’d been on the end of many a late-night text chains detailing just how into her he was. Considering Logan’s current relationship status, he sometimes honestly wished Oscar would turn these rants toward Lando. But, for the sake of friendship, he persisted.

As soon as Oscar kills the car, Logan steps out, hoping this would end Oscar’s relationship talk. It’d been three years since your breakup and being back at the restaurant was bad enough but if Logan had to hear Oscar talk about his persistent love life for the next two hours, he’d probably need to be admitted.

He hears the car door slam closed behind him and assumes that must be Oscar following him so he keeps walking, quickly reaching the threshold of the restaurant and pulling the door open. He turns back to face the parking lot as he holds the door open, half-hearted politeness seeping out of him. The only reason Logan’s holding the door open is to make up for his quick exit out of the car.

Oscar seems to be aware of Logan’s false-kindness, dramatically bowing his head as he walks by and into the building, “Thank you so much, Master Logan. How will I ever repay you for your kindness?”

Logan rolls his eyes, not even glancing at Oscar as he walks in behind him, eyes instead trailing over the rest of the space as he crosses his arm over his chest, “Shut up, man.”

Oscar huffs, smirking as he joins Logan in glancing around the room. His attention is brought back in front of him when Hiro’s familiar face walks up to them.

“Ah, I know you two! The American and the Australian!” Hiro exclaims, gesturing widely at the two, “Sit wherever you like!”

Logan nods, walking away as Oscar stays to talk to Hiro for a few moments. Logan makes his way around a few tables, sliding into a far corner booth. Oscar does eventually get to the table, a grin splitting his face.

He falls into the booth opposite Logan, tossing two menus on the table, “Hiro gave me the menus, he was asking about my girlfriend.”

Logan hums, eyes not moving away from the menu that he’d picked up. He’s not entirely sure why he’s even looking at the menu, he knows he’s just gonna order sushi like he always does.

Oscar, on the other hand, seems entirely too interested in the menu, eyes continuously scanning back and forth over the pages in front of him. Logan rolls his eyes, shutting the menu and setting it down on the table.

They both order, Oscar going for something Logan had never heard of, which Oscar explains is some eel dish, and Logan choosing sushi like he knew he would.

Conversation passes lightly, talk of the season passing over the table as they wait for their food. The food arrives eventually, the pair digging into their respective dishes. Oscar feeds Logan a bite of the eel dish, which Logan is slightly surprised to find out he enjoys.

After they’ve finished, there’s a quick argument over who’s gonna pay for the meal, Oscar being the first to give up and let Logan cover it after Logan starts listing everything Oscar had paid for so far over the weekend and Oscar, not wanting to hear Logan ramble, concedes.

Once Logan’s paid, Oscar gets up quicker than the American, finding his way to the exit. Logan huffs, having to rush out of his seat to catch the Australian.

“Osc! Wait-" Logan rolls his eyes as he gets up, a few steps behind his friend. He steps quickly toward the exit, starting to rush to the door when something on the wall next to it catches his eye.

He turns his head, stepping closer to the wall. Hundreds of Polaroids splay out before him, covering the wooden planks of the wall. Swarms of smiling faces look back at him, memories of friends and family of the past all ingrained into the mural of photographs.

His eyes trail the wall, skipping across the pictures and landing on one familiar one. The picture is now surrounded on all sides, unlike how it’d been the last time he was here. The picture of the older couple is still there, their smiling faces causing a passive smile to break out on Logan’s face.

But on the other side of his photo is an unfamiliar picture but with oh-so familiar subject matter. Logan rolls his eyes, smile dropping when he notices that Oscar had gotten a picture of him and his girlfriend slapped right next to Logan’s. He’s not even sure how he’d managed that. It’d been over two years since the original picture had been taken and Logan thought there would’ve been someone else’s picture stuck in that spot. But apparently not.

Finally, Logan can’t help when his eyes drift to the photo in the middle, his face almost twisting into a grimace. He’s suddenly reminded of everything he’d forced himself to forget since your breakup.

He’d been pushing back every memory, having never fully gotten over you. He’d thought that if he just didn’t think about your relationship, it would eventually fade into the back of his mind and he could live in peace without you.

But now that’s he’s been forced to face what he’d been trying so hard to avoid, he finds himself missing you. Badly. He knows the couple in that picture were happy, happier than either of them had even been. He also knows that he’d grown since the breakup, grown into the person you’d wished he been all those years ago.

“Shit,” Logan forces himself to tear his eyes away from the picture, hands fumbling in his pocket for his phone as he rushes into the parking lot, Oscar having already wandered back to his car.

“You coming?” Logan hears Oscar shout from across the lot. Logan holds a hand up, pacing just outside the restaurant as he types frantically into his phone.

“Yeah! One second, man!” Logan replies, holding his phone up to his ear. Oscar seems to let this go, sitting back into the car and shutting the door.

Logan paces back and forth, hoping to god you’ll answer your phone. You should, considering it was the afternoon where you were. Or where you should be, at least. Logan is suddenly hit by the reality that he has no idea if you’d moved recently out of England. Or if you were on vacation that specific weekend, he’d never know.

He’s about to give up when the phone clicks and Logan’s head shoot’s up.

“Who is this?” Logan winces, the sound of your voice almost unfamiliar after so long.

“Hey,” he starts, trying his hardest not to sound stressed, “It’s Logan.”

“Oh,” you sound surprised and Logan can’t blame you. He really had no reason to be calling you, “What’s up Lo?”

The nickname sounds wrong coming from your mouth. But maybe that was just because it’d been so long since he’d heard it.

“I’m in Japan,” Logan runs a hand through his hair nervously, “With Oscar. We went to that restaurant, the one with the photos, I saw that picture of us.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments and Logan has to check that you hadn’t hung up.

But you do reply. Eventually, at least, “Yeah?”

He hums nodding even though he knows you can’t see him, “Yeah. And it made me realize that-“

He takes a deep breath. It was now or never. He had to do this now, before his confidence ran out or you got scared and hung up.

“I really fucking miss you,” he huffs, a small laugh escaping him as he finally admits it out loud. Really healthy that the first time he’d acknowledged the thought is him saying it to your face. Well, not to your face, but close enough.

With every moment that passes and you don’t reply, more and more dread fills Logan. He shakes his head, suddenly aware of how stupid this idea was. He’d just called you out of the blue after two and a half years, sounding just like a clingy ex-boyfriend. God, you’d probably moved on by now, you probably weren’t even single! He’d done nothing but freak you out and he, honestly, wouldn’t be surprised if you blocked his numb-

“I miss you too.”

Your voice is almost a whisper and Logan momentarily thinks he must’ve heard you wrong.

“What?”

“I miss you too, Lo,” your voice is clear this time, leaving no room for Logan to mishear you.

“Really?”

You laugh, the sound causing Logan to brighten and a huge smile to shape his lips, “Yeah, really. I’ve been watching your races just to see you. I’m proud of you, by the way.”

Shock at not being rejected is still coursing through the man, causing his brain to completely miss your admission about watching his races. He only hears that you miss him.

“Are you still in England?” Logan asks, thoughts and ideas sprinting through his head.

You hum softly, “Yeah, I am.”

The American grins, trying his hardest not to fist-pump, “Can I see you? When I get back?”

“I’d love that, Lo.”

Logan pulls the phone away from his mouth, whispering a quick “let’s fucking go” before he pulls the phone back to his face.

“Alright, I’ll see you then, yeah?”

He hears you chuckle, his own smile getting slightly bigger, “Yeah, you will. Bye, Lo.”

“Bye, y/n.”

The phone clicks again, turning dark as you hang up. Logan finally gives into the fist pump, trying his best not to skip as he moves across the parking lot.

He reaches the car and swings the door open, falling into the passenger seat unceremoniously.

Oscar sends a confused glance his way, not familiar with this level of glee from the American, “What’s your deal.”

Logan, too happy to give any attention to anything other than the text he’s about to send you, waves his hand passively, “Don’t worry about it.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, it seeming that the pair had switched roles in the past five minutes, Logan suddenly the happier of the two, “Whatever.”

Logan huffs, looking out the window with a loopy grin. His thoughts are stuck on the date he’s gonna take you on when he gets back to England, ideas coursing through his brain.

When he pulls out his phone to search for potential restaurants to visit with you, he finds himself looking for Japanese food.

——

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119 @c-losur3 @llando4norris @lokideservesahug