#gotta hide my cursed prompts

[ablogofsapphicpanic]

Guys… I just realized @separatist-apologist is playing mind games with me

She’s trying to uncurse my cursed prompts

I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner

[queers-gambit]

Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

requesting rules and masterlist

MCU masterlist

[magicdustsworld]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Returning home via a road trip sounded good until your car had to run out of gas. With little choices and a lot of compromises, you and your boyfriend decided to crash in a cheap motel for one night. It wasn't your fault that things got a little heated. No one will know, right? Right?

Tropes: Explicit smut, not an established relationship

Warnings: Profanity, fingering, nipple play, protected sex (not b/w main leads), voyeurism, masturbation, ejaculation, nonconsensual videography, implications of blackmail, modern AU, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 2.8k

Event: my work for @/levievent under the prompt of day 2 - voyeurism.

A/N: Will be posting on Ao3 soon + I only have two hours before I actually have to wake up for school hjshjs bye gotta go sleep! Hope you enjoy <3

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

Five? Six? Or has it been Seven?

The humid breeze wisped through your hair as your boyfriend drove down the highway. You perched your elbow over the window ledge, face nestled into your palm as you absentmindedly drummed your fingers over your cheekbone. You checked your watch – 16:27. Time seemed to crawl, dragging itself and so did it drag your irritation which ascended like a straight line graph. The scowl played on your lips and you didn’t bother hiding it from your partner. Least interested. Why should you even do that in the first place? He was the reason for it, after all.

The car revved through the forlorn road, occasionally you’d get a glimpse of a shepherd or two as they returned to their homes with their flock of sheep. Given, the sun was setting down, coating the very grasslands and farms with its hues, the mild heat burnt your skin yet it wasn’t anything too sharp. Rather it was proving to be your solace from the palpable tension strewing in the vehicle.

“Just an hour more,” His voice reached your ears over the buzzing of the radio. “We’ll reach there before you know it.”

You merely hummed at that, keeping your attention strictly on the sprawling grasslands that stretched miles over the horizon.

However, your lack of response caused him to let out a frustrated groan, “How long are you going to keep up that bitchy attitude?”

“As long as I want.”

Obviously, he didn’t take that kindly-vexation flaring in his veins. “For Fuck’s sake,” He cursed. “What are you even so god damn upset about? I said we’ll be in Paradis soon enough.”

“I don’t know, Eren.” You snapped back. “Maybe it’s because we would’ve been in Paradis by now if you weren’t fucking reckless.”

“Me? I was reckless?” He scoffed, voice dripping with disdain. “We had to start off an hour late because of you and now you have the fucking audacity to put the fucking blame on me?”

“You didn’t have to breach the speed limit for that. Was it fun to get stuck in the station for two hours? And a ticket on top of that?” You rolled your eyes. “Buy one get one free, how delightful!”

“That’d only be a case of five minutes if the officers weren’t-”

“Don’t you dare start with your speech on our miserable government now, it pisses me off.”

Green eyes blazed with fury as he glared at you and you glared back with an equal fervour. The staring contest only served to heighten the chasm of agitation that dripped from you both. Until, both of you broke it off with a derisive huff-turning your individual attentions away from each other.

Spending a week in Marley with your boyfriend had been lucrative. Considering you were able to catch up with a few of your friends during the, albeit short vacation had you more jubilant than ever until... this day. Returning to Paradis via a road trip sounded good, exciting even, until it was put to practice. With each atrocious situations both of you found yourself in since the break of dawn, only made this journey unbearable.

Ten minutes further into the drive, the revving of the car engine was the only sound that cut through the cold war; until that happened to be a distant memory. The vehicle slowed down gradually, friction and the coarse road causing it to sputter and eventually come to halt on the desolate road.

You blinked. So did Eren. A second passed in silence until he spoke.

“Out of gas.”

A smile stretched on your lips, “Perfect.”

.

Amidst the darkened night sky, the neon red name of the motel stood out – The Ackerman’s.

After the car had ran out of gas, both of you had to walk three kilometres in the highway until reaching a site where at least civilized humans resided. You and Eren for the first time today, could agree that being stranded in the middle of nowhere would be more precarious than it showed itself to be. Besides, both of you had taken the highway which crossed the farmlands. Hardly any car would drive by that can offer both of you a lift and asking help from the locals was out of the question. Neither of you were psychics to know who might harbour ill intentions and who wouldn’t. Left with little options, a quick google search had you aware of a cheap motel only kilometres away. With a three point five star rating, it seemed to be a decent place to crash in for just a night.

Entering the motel, you were greeted with a small lobby comprising of a reception desk, a staircase which presumably was for the rooms above, and a door which had a hanging sign of staff only. The carpet underneath your boots appeared thin and frayed on the edges. Desk made of cheap laminate, an old computer rested on it with a file and a few pen stocked in a holder. Although, an air of loneliness surrounded the area, you couldn’t help but find how all of it was unbelievably clean.

“No one’s here?” Eren questioned, walking over to the reception desk – eyes searching for any semblance of life.

You sighed, stretching your arms and twisting your torso to get rid of all the pent up tension. “Seems so.”

“Seems not.”

On cue, a grave voice reached your ears. Rotating on your heels, you encountered him—a man who appeared a few years older. Dark hair styled in an undercut with bangs cascading over his forehead, sharp features and a poker look marked his mien. He held a teacup, quite literally on his fingertips, eyes lingering on you for a second before he strolled over to the reception.

The brief moment when he side past you, had you keenly aware of two facts. First, he’s shorter than an average man. Second, he’s hotter than an average man.

He plopped himself on the chair across the desk, keeping his tea cup down. Turning on the computer, he asked, “Room for two?”

“Room for two.” Eren answered.

He kept his eyes on the screen, the clicks of the mouse reverberating. “Night or hours?”

Eren blinked. “What?”

“Charges.” He clarified. “Should I charge you by a night or hour?”

“What’s the difference?”

“15 dollars for an hour each and 150 for a night.”

You could see how Eren’s lips twisted into a frown as if both the prices hurt his soul on a personal level. After a moment of contemplation, he answered, “One night.”

The man nodded, continuing the process of registration. After a five minute delay which consisted of filling in details such as name, phone number and asking for ID, Eren received the key. Opening a file, he pointed to the bottom right corner, “Sign it.” Eren complied without much of a thought. After he was done, the man’s eyes flickered to you. “You too.”

Therefore, you complied too.

.

The room was far from ideal.

A makeshift double bed with a nightstand, two chairs for lounging, a box TV, and an attached bathroom which you didn’t bother to check. The walls were dull yet a flair of lime scented disinfectant lingered in the air proving the room to have been recently cleaned. Honestly, with the amount the man down the reception was charging, this was literally the bare minimum. Or maybe not.

“I should’ve asked him if he had any spare gas.” Eren grumbled, pushing your bags to one corner of the room.

“Tomorrow you can,” You muttered, taking off your socks as you hummed the music of a distant song softly. Not letting yourself ponder on the negativities as much, you laid down on the bed. Enough had happened today, you didn’t need a reminder or to know any more what ifs of the situation. A sign of utter relief left your lips as soon as your body made contact with the sheets. Achieving one night’s peace in this atrocity is more than enough.

Eren, however, had other plans in mind.

Like you, he made himself comfortable on the bed as well.

“Did that bitch finally get off your shoulders?”

That caused a twist of your lips, “Nope, she’s still here.”

“Sure.” His deep voice rang in your ears and you were painfully aware of your proximity. “Wonder how she’s going to get off then?”

“Well, I don’t know,” You mused, turning your body towards him. His turquoise eyes sparkled with an underlying idea for the situation. An idea you loved. A ghost of a smirk curved on the corner of his lips and you didn’t deter from trailing your well-manicured nail down his chiselled jaw. “You tell me.”

The suggestiveness of the act didn’t elude him.

A second later, both of you were locking lips.

.

Levi hated his job.

No, he wasn’t a god damn receptionist. He was the owner of this motel – a legacy or more like a burden passed to him by his only, late relative, Kenny. And shitty Kenny had some fucked up fantasies swivelling in his head and that’s why he just happened to put up CCTV in the rooms. That was enough for him to lose any sort of respect he harboured for the man until he the reasons for his relatives depravity was laid bare before him.

The story goes like this:

Apparently, his uncle had some pals from the secret police department of Paradis and those fuckers were tracking some hefty politician who went by the name of Rod Reiss. The latter was responsible for smuggling armament and carbines to Marley – the information to the police forces by one of the members of his smuggle party. The catch? Arresting Rod wasn’t a child’s play. From the vague news, the police were sure of one thing – the deals happened in low and cheap motels like these. Hence, to catch the bastard red handed, the forces reached out to Kenny who was the, then owner, of this motel. Kenny was more than ready to get his hands dirty as if he got a thrill out of expeditions such. Ensuing miniscule cameras in the few rooms had done the job. Of course, Rod was arrested. Of course, Kenny spat on his face.

Of course, Levi was annoyed to hell when he first encountered footages he didn’t wish to encounter.

Nevertheless, that tale had unfolded long ago and Kenny hadn’t got rid of the cameras. As for Levi, he was least bothered to what happened in the rooms. Therefore, he didn’t deactivate them either.

Never will the devices prove useful to Levi. Or so he thought.

Barely dressed in a pair of black lingerie, the thin material did little to contain your perky breasts and your hardened nipples poked the fabric as Eren palmed you through your underwear. You breathily moaned while his mouth was pressed on yours in a heated kiss.

Levi’s fingers twinged ever so slightly as he watched the open pornopraphy on his personal computer screen. In the privacy of his room, he wasn’t doing very good breaching his customer’s privacy. Well, he could care less about that. In his defence, he couldn’t help his cock from straining in his briefs when the straps of your bra slid down your shoulders revealing a tantalizing pair of tits. Throat began to dry up as soon as your boyfriend pulled down you’re the last garment on your body.

Slick ran down your pussy, and Eren wasted no second in plunging two of his fingers inside your soaking cunt. Your back arched almost involuntarily, the need to feel any sort of friction increasing by second. He curled his digits inside you, velvet walls clamping at the intruder and the lubrication only made it easier for him to twist and toy with your needy cunt.

It was as if Levi’s body had a mind on its own as the next event unfolded. Spreading his legs wide, he reached down to grasp the painful bulge. That provided little relief. He bet you tasted just as much intoxicating akin to the whiff of your perfume he caught – the first thing he noticed about you.

Eren bend down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue on the areolas while he fondled with the other tit. His touch igniting a hoard of sensations on your body as your toes curled with your head thrown back. He rubbed circles over your clit, the ridges of his knuckled brushed against your pussy lips making it almost impossible for you to keep your voice low.

Shit! Unbuckling his belt, Levi pulled down his briefs – freeing his cock from cage. He grasped it by the base, blood rushing in the veins pulsated against the creases of his palm. “Ah- fuck!” He cursed under his breath, already feeling the precum ooze from his tip.

A sinfully loud whine left your mouth as Eren retracted his finger from your dripping folds. You buckled your hips, trying to press your legs together for the just any amount of touch but he managed to keep your legs spread wide for him.

“Patience baby,” Eren smirked, discarding his briefs as he pushed you further on the bed. Grabbing a condom from his trousers, he tore it open with his teeth before putting it over his length. He spat into his hands, pumping his entire length a few times before positioning himself on your entrance, “Ready baby?”

You nodded and he shoved himself inside you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Levi cursed out loud, stroking his entire length with an intensity and fervour even unseen by him. The hormones flowed in his veins ceremoniously and violent, a sheen of sweat was forming over his forehead, some dripping to his cheeks from his bangs. His mouth was wide open as he watched the erotegenic display between you and your boyfriend. His swollen cock rested against his hand which was busy in providing it with its much needed gratification. He could hear your wanton moans from his earphones; each moan of yours incited a groan from him.

Your legs quivered as Eren placed your limbs over his shoulders, causing him to reach deeper inside your cavern. His tip rubbed against your g-spot and you rolled your eyes back, the orgasm building up with each of his heavenly thrusts as he swayed your body like a sex doll. Your perky breasts jostled with each thrust of his hips, sweat glistening over the skin while he continued to grind his hips against yours. Quite literally. He wasn’t even pulling out at one point just setting a pace to create a narrow friction and he continued to sputter absolute filth down your ears.

The live porn only coaxed Levi into building his orgasm as he stroked his cock quicker than the last time. Vehemently, he circled his thumb over the swollen tip – almost crying out loud at the sudden increase of pleasure shooting in his abdomens. He gritted his teeth while he watched just how you were digging your nails on Eren’s back, chanting his name like a mantra. You were just being fucked stupid on screen and he was rendering himself stupid while he fist fucked his shaft.

Eren reached down to pinch your enlarged clit and that was all it took – you yelled his name, so loud so clear that someone can just hear you if they listen close enough. The pleasure washed over you like a tide while you squeezed your eyes shut letting the orgasm wear off. Eren continued to grind into you following suit as he burst his seed inside the sheath before pulling out of you.

As for Levi, he was sure he could hear your shriek down to his room even without the headphones. He threw his head back, eyes squinting shut as he felt himself reaching his climax – coating his fingers with his hot release. From the ear piece he could hear the muffled conversations and ragged breathing between you and your boy toy. After giving himself a minute of rest, he detached the cord of his computer from the point. Looking down at the mess he created, a disgustful scowl made itself etch on his mien.

He clicked his tongue, “Fuck! I am filthy.”

.

Fortunately, Eren was able to get some spare gas from the man in the reception. It may only be a trick of mind but did the latter rest his eyes on you more than a second longer?

Nevertheless, you reached home safely.

.

Six days later, you received a parcel.

A small brown cardboard box, precisely taped and packed when it reached your door. Unknown sender. You were contemplating that if you had received someone else’s parcel. However, curiosity got the best of you and opening the package, you were greeted with a black pendrive.

Plugging it in your laptop, you clicked the only video file it had.

One minute in the said video and your blood ran cold.

Two minutes in the said video and you were hysterically crying.

Completed with the said video, a text popped up.

Thank you for spending one night at the Ackerman’s.

See you soon.

[slttygeto]

MOON’S JJK MASTERLIST—

GOJO SATORU

slow morning [nsfw]

morning love [nsfw]

gojo satoru as a dad

gojo’s soft spot for you [nsfw]

comforting you after a breakdown. [angst, fluff]

to love you is to grow old with you [fluff]

my love, all mine [fluff]

see you on the other side [angst]

it’s a blue world without you [angst]

can we always be this close? [fluff]

when your baby . . . [multiple, fluff]

prompt list game: #4 GOJO | #8 GOJO [nsfw]

GETO SUGURU

slowly loving you [fluff]

what was i made for? | think i forgot, how to be happy | something i’m made for [angst]

forever n then some [fluff]

overstimulation w suguru [nsfw]

comforting you after a breakdown [angst, fluff]

JJK MEN AS DADS.

cursing my name, wishing i stayed [angst, hurt/no comfort]

you say it’s big, but you take it. [nsfw]

don’t wanna wait on it, tonight i wanna get nasty [nsfw]

my punishment, an eternity without you. [angst]

when your baby . . . [multiple, fluff]

prompt list game: #1 GETO | #9 GETO | #7 GETO [nsfw]

NANAMI KENTO

swear it’s just right for you [nsfw]

when your baby . . . [multiple, fluff]

JJK MEN AS DADS

TOJI FUSHIGURO

JJK MEN AS DADS.

SHAMELESS (with Shiu) [nsfw]

when your baby . . . [multiple, fluff]

prompt list game: | #2 TOJI [nsfw]

CHOSO KAMO

warmth in the winter [fluff, nsfw]

when your baby . . . [multiple, fluff]

NOBARA

comfort

MIXED

YOU GOTTA HIDE! MY BOYFRIEND’S COMING!

JUST THE TIP [nsfw]

didn’t know you’d be into an old man like me [yaga, nsfw]

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Love is Love (Discord Drabble)

Wayne begins to panic as soon as Eddie sits down at the opposite side of the breakfast table, looking all rumpled and grumpy like he does every morning.

He takes Scott's hand under the table and shoots his now-official partner a look. Scott nods firmly, despite the weary glint in his eyes.

He's gotta do this. He can do this.

At least he thinks so until he looks back to his nephew, only to find Eddie rubbing sleep from his eyes and muttering a curse about the morning sun. He watches as the boy takes a swipe at the thin curtain that dresses the window and snaps it shut.

Scott flinches and Wayne sighs.

They have been hiding this long enough. And there is only so much seeking around they can do before Eddie catches them, which would be a very real kind of betrayal his nephew will (perhaps rightfully) never let him hear the end of.

"I - uh, we need ta talk to ya, kid."

Now that sounds different on Wayne's tongue. He has sat Eddie down many times before over the years, mostly all for reasons that left the boy in a puddle of tears. Like when he had to break it to the kid that his father was going to jail, or when he had to repeat senior year – and then again the following.

But this time is for a good reason – a great one, Wayne reminds himself as he takes his and Scott's intertwined hands to rest up on the three-seater table and right out in the open.

"You guys are dating," Eddie deadpans, looking at the hands, "I know."

He looks more awkward than anything as he offers a shrug.

"Oh gosh," Scott gasps with relief and slumps back in his seat, "That was easy."

But Wayne finds himself frowning, "How'd ya know?"

Eddie makes a face like it's painfully obvious, that sarcastic little quirk in his brow Wayne started to recognise back when his nephew was eight and far too smart (but not quite book smart) for his own good.

"Since my Uncle started hanging out with Scott Clarke, Dork of the Century," Eddie retorts with a grin.

Wayne hangs his head, readying himself to at least attempt to explain to Scott how such... colourful names are merely terms of endearment. Well, at least he thinks that's what is going on here.

"Y'know what?" Scott starts, playfully pointing at Eddie with his free hand in that all-too-chipper way he does, "I'll take it, Edward. I sit here before you, proudly a dork."

"Oh, Jesus," Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"But we just want you to know, Eddie," Scott continues, reaching now to place his hand on Eddie's shoulder and Wayne has to stifle a chuckle as his nephew freezes up, "That love is love, and that's A-okay."

Eddie looks Wayne dead in the eye and stage-whispers, "Why did you have to pick somebody so lame!"

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

my love has no direction (and my anger is a vice)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (happy ending)

warnings: reader is physically injured but it doesn't specify the cause, jason is big protective and tries so so hard to be gentle

a/n: alright alright y'all know the drill there's more written lemme know if you want it

You're staring at your reflection in the mirror, gnawing your bottom lip as you wonder how you'll explain the bruises across your cheekbone and around your eye. You hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, that Jason doesn't get back when he says he will - that whatever work he's away doing as Redhood will take just a few extra days and you'll heal enough to be able to hide it.

Your thoughts screech to a halt, though, when the man himself steps into the doorway of the bathroom and lets his duffle bag drop to the floor when he sees you.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" Jason questions immediately as he stares at you, his eyes trailing over your form, scanning for more injuries. Instinctively, you go to cover your wrist and forearm, cursing internally when you realize that the only thing that did was bring his attention to the hand-shaped bruises littering your skin.

"Hi," you say quietly. "...how was your trip?" Jason all but snarls and stalks toward you, bringing his hand to your face so that he can gently, gently, hold your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilt your head, examining the bruises. You can tell he's noticed the small cuts from rings making contact with your skin when his jaw clenches even more and his eyes focus on yours.

"Baby," he starts, and the edge in his voice makes you still. He's angry, you realize, in a way you've never seen before. It's right there, under the surface, straining to get out, and the only thing stopping it is the fact that you haven't given him a direction to shoot in yet. "You are not going to pretend this is fine. We are not ignoring this. You need to tell me what happened."

"I know, Jase," you respond, shoulders slumping. You're tired, he realizes, and it's most likely that the adrenaline of whatever happened is wearing off. He slides an arm around you and lets you lean into him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I just… I'm not just deflecting, you know. You're okay? Everything went okay?"

"Nothing worse than some scrapes" he soothes, going to wrap his other arm around your waist. You flinch, though, small enough that he wouldn't notice if he wasn't so attuned to you. But you're you, his person, and every fibre of his being is trained on you right now. So, of course, he notices. He notices the way you ever so slightly suck in a breath and tense in his arms.

"Baby…" he begins. You drop your gaze away from his. "Let me see, yea? We can wait to talk about what happened until you're ready, but I gotta make sure you're okay."

"I am okay," you mumble, still determinedly keeping your eyes away from his as you fiddle with the front of his Redhood armour.

"Can I check?" he prompts, and he's so gentle about it, so soft and caring and loving that it makes your bottom lip tremble. You nod in response and he presses a kiss against your forehead, murmuring thanks into your skin.

You step away from him so that you can begin to lift yourself onto the counter, but Jason makes a strained sort of noise and stops you, instead lifting you gently up onto it, keeping a careful eye on you to ensure he's not hurting you at all. Once you're sat on the counter, you spread your legs so that he can slot his hips between them and he places his hands on either side of your hips.

"Can I lift your shirt, sweetheart?" he asks softly and the whole thing, how kind and considerate he's being, chips away at you a little too much. Your breath hitches and your hands tighten their grip on the counter and you rip your gaze away from his.

"You just got home, Jase. You gotta be tired - why don't you shower, get out of your armour and stuff. We can do this later."

"Baby," Jason sighs as he cups your unbruised cheek in his palm and brings your face back to his. When you realize you can't avoid his gaze anymore you simply close your eyes, refusing to see the way he looks at you. "Can you look at me, sweetheart? Come on, hey, I'm here to keep you safe, yea? I'm gonna help you. I'm gotta make sure you're alright."

And that's all it takes for a sob to make its way out of your throat. You move to hide your face in your hands as you begin to cry, but Jason stops you gently, using a hand on the back of your head to guide you into his chest, letting you bury your face there and weep.

"Shh, shh, baby. It's okay. You go ahead and cry, get it all out. You're safe now, yea? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." Jason soothes as your hands grab at the jacket that serves as the outer layer of his armour. Truth be told, he is tired. He was away for a week dealing with this job and he can feel the way his body is aching and his head is swimming with exhaustion. But none of that, nothing else in the world matters when he has you, bruised and bloody and weeping into his chest.

Truthfully, there's not much that scares him more than this, and seeing you in this state has him rattled, forcing his own tiredness to the back of his mind. You, his baby, who is always so brave and stoic, who he remembers as a teenager getting into street fights and laughing through a mouthful of blood on several occasions, is trembling in his arms from fear and exhaustion and he's not even sure what else because he doesn't know what happened and you're in no state to tell him. So all he can do is stand there, keeping you in his arms and whispering any sort of reassurance he can think of into your hair. His aching legs be damned, there is nothing, nothing, that is going to make him move an inch until you are good and ready.

[hazbinshusk]

This is wild but, Number Sixteen for Huskie? Totally not due to the Southern saying "the Devil is kissing his wife" when the sun is out while it is raining. Which is a better saying than its counterpart. Does it even rain in hell-?

prompt #16: a kiss in the rain

Husk curses, a hiss sounding in the back of his throat and his teeth bared in irritation as rain soaks his fur, leaving the usually fluffy hair hanging down in dripping clumps. He flaps his wings in an attempt to shake away the rain, growling as it proves ineffective.

You suppress a laugh, hiding your smile behind your hand. “We’re almost home, honey. Just gotta hold out a few more—”

“Fuckin’, Christ!” he yowls in frustration, pushing wet fur away from his eyes. “What’s the fuckin’ point of rain in motherfuckin’ hell to begin with?”

You pout sympathetically, grabbing his hand and urging him further up the hill towards the hotel. Rain has soaked through your clothes to set an uncomfortable chill into your skin, but you know it’s nothing compared to what he’s dealing with. “Tell you what, we get home, I’ll beat the answer out of Lucifer myself.”

He gives you a look torn halfway between amusement and annoyance. There’d been no warning before the downpour, and his relatively light mood had soured as soon as water had met his fur. “Fuckin’ hate this stupid cat—”

“Hey, none of that,” you tell him, grabbing hold of his suspenders and tugging him towards you. You press your lips to his, tasting the rain on his mouth, and he relaxes reluctantly into the embrace, his wings rising slightly in an attempt to shield the both of you from the worst of the wind-carried rain.

He grumbles even as you pepper kisses over his face, pressing your lips to his cheeks, the hearts above his eyes, the heart of his nose before kissing him again. You ignore the way his wet fur tries to cling to your hands, continuing to kiss him until you feel him sigh softly, his body relaxing further.

“No getting in your head with the self-hatred.” you remind him sternly, wrapping your hand around his paw. He squeezes it back, but when he opens his mouth to complain again, you kiss him again. “Nope. I love you even when you’re drenched, sour and looking like a very annoyed drowned rat.”

He grumbles, but there’s a wry smile touching his lips.

“Once we’re inside we’ll curl up by the fire with my hair dryer and some towels and I will personally kick Angel’s ass if he even thinks about making a comment.” you promise, smoothing fur back between his ears as the two of you finally make it under the awning at the front of the hotel. “Alastor’s too. Sound good?”

He huffs a reluctant chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours. You giggle as his fur drips down onto your nose. “Christ, you’re cute.”

“So are you,” you reply sincerely. “But what do we say we get you inside? I’d prefer to cuddle up to a sexy and very dry bartender.”

“Fuckin’ God, yes.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[watchyoubloom]

distraction | drw x f!reader

I saw this tiktok and immediately had thoughts about how Danny would react if you came home w nipple piercings.

This was going to be a blurb but uh. Here we are. Enjoy???

A/N: I am someone who does not have (nor will probably ever have) nipple piercings, so I tried to be vague about details 😅

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Danny is in the middle of a video game when you get home that evening. He had the afternoon off, for once, and though you’d wished you’d been able to spend it with him, you had an appointment you didn’t want to miss.

“Hey, baby,” he says when you walk into the living room. You’re in his peripheral, leaning against the doorframe, and he flashes you a quick grin when he sees you. He presses a few keys on his controller and speaks into his headset. “Guys, I’m going AFK.”

“No, you keep playing,” you say, waving at him to tell him to keep his seat on the floor. “I gotta go put some stuff up and then I’ll come join you.”

He hesitates for a second but then nods, tilting his head up and asking silently for a kiss. You oblige, walking over to him and bend at the waist, kissing him quickly and dodging when he tries to reach up to grab you and pull you to him. “I’ll be right back.”

You go set down your things, your work bag from your half day that morning and the stuff you’d grabbed at the store on your way home, and then pop up to your bedroom to change into comfy clothes. You’d worn a hoodie home to cover up your surprise, and after you change out of your jeans and into a pair of sleep shorts and one of Danny’s t-shirts, loose fitting and soft, you head back downstairs.

The t-shirt is loose enough that you think you’ll get away without the hoodie, and Danny winks at you when you appear back in the living room door. He pats at the floor beside him, and you see he’s already grabbed another controller for you. When you don’t immediately join him, his brow furrows, and you can’t hide the little smile that tugs at your lips.

Whatever is happening in game must be distracting, because it draws his attention before he can pause it, and you seize your opportunity while you have it, drawing the hem of the t-shirt up slowly until your chest is exposed and waiting for Danny to turn his attention back to you.

It doesn’t take long- some part of Danny’s focus is always on you- and his gaze flits back to you within about two seconds of you flashing him. He curses and drops his controller, then pauses his game again and says “Bye, guys,” before taking his headset off.

“You-“ He says, and starts to get up, so you walk over to him. By the time you cross the room, he’s on his knees, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to start drooling. “You did it today?”

His eyes haven’t left the piercings in your nipples, and you’d make a joke about your eyes being a little further up, but this is the exact reaction you wanted. “Mhmm,” you say, and step closer. He’s eye level with your chest now, and his hands raise automatically. “Not yet,” you stop him, gently, and he settles his big hands at your waist. “What do you think?”

“I think my brain is melting,” he says, and you laugh, reaching out to cup his face in your hand. “Holy shit.”

“It hurt so bad,” you admit, and you swoon a little when he presses a kiss to your stomach.

“I would have come with you,” Danny says, kissing your midriff again before he shifts so he’s sitting back down, his back against the bottom of the couch. He isn’t willing to let you go far, hooks a finger into your waistband and tugs you along, prompting you to sit atop him, straddling his legs. He immediately pulls your shirt back up, you having let it go in the transition, and his eyes drift back to the piercings, taking in the way the metal sits against your still swollen, sensitive skin. You let him guide the t-shirt over your head, laughing when he balls it up and throws it out of reach. “God, you’re so hot. I can’t wait to be able to touch.”

“I know,” you reply, and it’s in response to both things he’s said. “I almost called you, but I wanted them to be a surprise. And you’ll be the first to know when they’re not sore. Trust me.”

Danny quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Oh yeah?” His hands skirt up your body and he cups the sides of your breasts, and him even slightly relieving you of the weight of them actually feels great. You nod, giving him permission to keep doing it, and can’t help but smile at how soft, how gentle, he’s being.

You nod. “The artist said hers made her nipples so much more sensitive,” and a laugh escapes you when Danny groans and drops his head back against the couch. His hands are at your waist again, his thumbs stroking along your ribcage, and you can feel him half-hard in his jeans. He loves playing with your nipples, loves how you respond to him, how sensitive you are, and you know he’s thinking of all the ways he’ll be able to torment you oh so deliciously now.

He sits up suddenly, jostling you a little, and you squint your eyes at him. “What?”

“I just realized I gotta figure out how I can convince you to never wear a shirt at home ever again.”

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[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2023

May 22nd Prompt: Hunger

Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7

@steddie-week

Steve wakes up slowly, rolls over to look at his alarm clock, then bursts out of bed in a rush of limbs and sheets and curses.

3:42 blinks back at him. Sometime during the night the power had gone out, and Steve knows it is well past 9, when he was supposed to be opening at Family Video. He pulls on his jeans and a clean shirt, stuffs his feet in his shoes, runs a brush through his hair, and grabs his vest on his way out the door, sparing half a glance at his kitchen, but not having time to eat.

If it comes down to it, he thinks, there’s always the candy.

He gets to Family Video in record time, breathing out a sigh of relief when he yanks on the door to find it still locked. That means he’s the first one there. Keith might notice when he goes back through times this week to figure out pay, but Steve’s hopeful he’s gotten away with it this time.

He clocks in, computer reading 10:01 (an entire hour late, whoops), and takes a breath as he looks around the store. Robin’s scheduled to come in at three, meaning he has five hours alone.

No one comes in for the first hour. Steve finishes logging returns and winding back the tapes.

Halfway through the second hour, the bell above the door jingles, and Steve raises his voice from where he’s putting away tapes. “Welcome to Family Video!”

“Either you’re hiding or you’ve officially started haunting this place,” a voice calls back, and Steve laughs as he walks out of the aisle.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Hiya, Stevie.” He grins. “Tell me if this is too forward? But I noticed the power went out last night and figured if I know you as well as I do, you slept in and missed breakfast.” He hands Steve a brown paper bag, creased nicely at the top.

“Lifesaver,” Steve gasps, opening the bag. Three muffins. He sniffs them, then groans. “You’re perfect, holy shit, thank you.” Banana nut, his favorite. His heart skips an odd beat, then again when he realizes Eddie’s blushing, pulling a piece of hair across his face.

“You’re welcome,” Eddie says quietly, chuckling slightly. “I guess I was right?”

“Yeah, I woke up, like, half an hour after my shift had started, immediately panicked, and got here as fast as I could. I don’t need another write-up.”

Eddie nods, a smirk crawling onto his face. “How about waiving the fees for your favorite customer?”

Steve makes a show of looking around. “Dustin’s here?”

Eddie just laughs. “I can’t even be mad at that one.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, eyes wide, adorably serious. Steve tries to school his face accordingly, but he can’t really feel his face. “I’m hungry.”

Steve thinks about it. “I am too,” he decides, then thinks some more. “Is there pizza left over?”

Eddie shrugs, looks at the blunt in his hand, then shrugs again, taking another drag. “Chips?”

“I have chips,” Steve agrees, grabbing for the blunt. “C’mon, share.”

Eddie hands it over. “Steve,” he says again, “I’m a genius.”

“Yup,” Steve agrees.

“We should watch a movie.”

“Oh my god,” Steve breathes. “With snacks?”

“Yeah. Yeah, with snacks, c’mon, help me, help me!” He pulls Steve up, laughing when Steve does.

“Eddie,” Steve says. It’s his turn to be serious. “What if we call Argyle? And Jon?”

“And they can bring pizza,” Eddie breathes. “Stevie, I think you’re the genius.”

“Yup,” Steve agrees again. “I’ll call. You get snacks. And movie.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughs, resting his head against the wall. “There’s no way.”

“I swear! That’s exactly what she said! And then she tried to blame me, like it isn’t all automated.” Steve huffs a breath.

Eddie shakes his head. “You have way more patience than I do, man.”

“That’s not true. We have different types. I could never sit like you do, painting your figurines.”

Eddie snorts. “I zone out and wake up four hours later. I don’t think that counts as patience.” He sighs. “As fun as this has been, Steve, I’ve gotta go get ready for my shift. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. What time does your shift start?”

“Six.”

“That… Eds, that’s in twenty minutes.”

“No? I’m looking at a clock right here. It’s 4:40 right now. I’ve got an hour twenty.”

“Eds,” Steve says, sounding pained. “Daylight savings.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie breathes. “Shit, shit, shit, you’re right, shit, fuck, okay, I’ve gotta go, love you, bye!”

He hangs up before Steve can say anything else, stuffing his feet in his shoes and grabbing his keys before racing out.

He’s halfway to work before he realizes he’s hungry. He lays his head on his steering wheel at a red light, breathes. “Just five hours,” he tells himself. “I can make it five hours.”

Half an hour in, he’s not so sure. His hands aren’t as steady as they should be, but he hides it from his coworkers, takes another few deep breaths, and tries to trick himself by drinking more water.

Ten minutes later, a familiar maroon Beemer pulls up. Eddie’s heart thuds in his chest as he goes out to meet Steve.

“Sorry I’m late,” Steve grins. “I think I got caught by all the lights possible.” He grabs something from the passenger seat. A brown paper bag.

“You didn’t,” Eddie breathes.

“I did,” Steve admits. “I hope turkey’s okay.”

“Turkey’s fantastic,” Eddie promises. “Freakin’ food for the gods, when I’m this hungry.” He opens the bag. A sandwich, a small bag of chips, an apple. He laughs. “Jesus wept, Steve, I brought you three little muffins!”

“Yeah, and I meant it when I called you a lifesaver.” He tilts his head. “I’m curious about something, though. If you meant it.”

Eddie pauses with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Meant what?”

“Gotta go, love you, bye.”

“Oh.” Nausea makes its presence known. He brings the sandwich down. “Steve, I-”

Steve’s fingers land on his forearm. “The truth, Eds. Please.” He’s whispering, eyes big and hopeful, and Eddie feels some of that same hope filling him.

“Yeah,” he whispers back.

Steve grins again, steps back. “I’m picking you up tomorrow. Seven o’clock.”

“Okay,” Eddie whispers, watches as Steve drives away.

“Hi,” Eddie says breathlessly, opening the door before Steve could knock.

“Hi.” Steve chuckles. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Where are you taking me?”

“Where do you wanna go?”

Eddie bites his lip, slides into the passenger seat. “Dinner? I’m starving.”

Steve grins at him as he puts the car in gear. “Me too.”

[newbornwhumperfly]

in defense of lightening...

so, uh, i love when whumpees think they deserve to suffer and it's even more fun when whumpers think so too! 😈😈😈🥺🥺🥺 here's a silly little snippet of Morja suffering at the hands of Jorah "Self Righteous is my Middle Name" Cuthbert 😩

written for the @whumpmasinjuly prompt - day 3: "____ deserved it" - because it's glorious and delicious and fitting for my blorbos 💖

title insp. by this hanif abdurraqib quote - “in defense of lightening, there is always a darkness asking to be split open.”

~

Annoyingly, the asset is limping. 

The rec room on this stiflingly small base is stupid-small and doesn’t leave much room for hiding in corners, but Morja seems to be doing his best to stay out of everyone’s way, at least. Small blessings. But he hasn’t left the rest of present company alone, lingering by the water cooler and taking infuriating little sips of a paper cup. 

Short journeys, quiet shuffling steps, from the cooler to the corner. Cooler to corner. Jorah’s jaw tics. The soft drag of the tip of his shoe across the floor. Lift, absence of pressure, drag, tiptoe, mouse-step, take more water, scurry away. Fuck, can’t he just take the whole industrial jug at this point and leave well enough alone? 

Like a mosquito buzzing near his ear and never quite landing, Jorah just can’t ignore it. He’s lost a second round of Battleship to Pfeffer, inducing one of the guy’s booming chuckles in the wake of slipped curses. He doubts anyone else has noticed - it’s not exactly obvious. Whether the asset isn’t feeling very sulky today or else he’s too chicken-shit to fish for sympathy while Jorah is in the room, Morja is behaving himself. 

It’s not like anyone can see it either. It’s not like anyone knows why the little creep is dragging his heels around. But if the twinge of soreness in Jorah’s arm is anything to go by, Morja’s soles have gotta be smarting in the hours since last night. In the cool shadow of the corner, he leans against a wall to spare his stance.

His soles were that pre-bruise red, that deep shade right before purple Jorah knows well by eye, the welts in perfect straight lines over the arch of his thick skin. Jorah has to work for the break in the skin. Had to stop before it bled, before the lines broke altogether, even though a scream, hard to draw out as blood, broke in muffled echo through the rag between the asset’s teeth. Jorah is patient, he’s not some fucking brute who doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows when to stop. 

Knows when to reel back, gloved hand gripping the black metal ruler firmly. It’s shimmering ricochet gleams in the low-wattage, unstained by its task. God, Jorah admires military hardware. Even tools as simple as this have many uses, such as drawing out beads of sweat from the asset’s screwed-up face, rolling down into his dark hair, in making the skin of his knuckles bleach white with clenching, making those bare feet quiver and dance to the beat of Jorah’s tune, unable to fake. 

The way those thickly callused toes flinch in their tight bonds can’t be faked. 

It's different than the spasm drawn out by the jolt of electricity across his feet. Jorah's baton can always cause that. Getting the skin tender, blistered. But some days, you've gotta hit something. And the response - the jerk, the whine at the tail end of a trailing yelp, the harsh drag of breath through the nostrils - feels practiced in a way that doesn't at all discourage the conversation.

That’s the beauty of physical pain. It might not “work” for traditional interrogation but it sure does tell you a lot of other shit. Jorah checks the bonds over, the tight security of zip-ties over cloth, no grooves, no marks, good work. He watches a bead of sweat roll down the back of the asset’s calf, catching on dark hairs, a path down to land on one of the welts that match the feet. Watching the clench of his thigh when the stinging salt likely hurts like a motherfucker in the stripes across the backs of this thighs. 

Pain is a language everyone speaks fluently. The perfect fucking teacher. The highest grade in understanding. 

There’s a purpose to the shit he’s going to Morja. Mindless beating accomplishes nothing much - not unless you’ve got a lot of free reign to work with. And here, Jorah simply doesn’t, not with soft-touch attitude of everyone at hand. No. Until Claudia or Cobi or especially Brax - Captain Hutchins - sees the value of it, Jorah’s work has to stay discrete, even-handed, subtle. 

Unfortunately for this guy, he gives Jorah a lot of room to work with. 

“Never knew you beefed it so bad at Battleship, J-Man, wanna switch to Go-Fish?” 

Jorah blinks, shaking away the fucking mosquito buzz around his ear, snorts, flicks a little plastic boat at Cobi’s arm and it bounces off the skin. 

“Owwwww.” Cobi whines, his big dumb face wrinkling up as he flicks the boat back. Sticks his tongue out. “Sore loser.” 

“Grab you a soda and we’ll call it even.” Jorah drawls, drawing cheerful agreement from his friend as he stands, stalks to the nearby little fridge. Drawing out the cold cans in hand, he catches a you, uh, a fan of Go Fish, buddy, it’s cool if you join us, right, Jorah? 

Oh. Right. He’s still fucking there, huh?

Jorah straightens, glancing out of the corner of his eye, catching the asset, catching Morja, stock-still. Cobi’s head tilts back, yellow curled and shaggy, dog-like, beaming in the man’s direction like a spotlight. 

Morja’s stillness is broken by the flicker of his eyes, dark, narrowed, from Cobi to Jorah. Blink. Widen. Blank. Creepy. 

Jorah’s fingertips crack the tab of his soda, the sharp pop snapping through the air, a hiss of cool air, and Jorah’s mouth pulls up at the corners. 

Morja’s throat jumps in a swallow and those black blank eyes blink once-twice. Sways side to side on tiptoe. This close, Jorah hears a small squelch at the sway. Oh. Interesting. Putting cold water in his shoes, huh? Jorah’s eyes flick down to his feet, up again, close-lipped, and Morja blinks faster. 

“Yeah, man.” Jorah says. “You wanna sit down with me and Cobi?”

It’s almost boring the way Morja’s eyes widen. The way he lowers his weight down to rest on his swollen soles to spare his thighs the strain. It’s a little funny though. Like a dog trying its hardest not to look at you when it threw up behind the couch. 

Flick to Cobi. Back to Jorah. Back again. 

“I-“

Almost on cue, Cobi cuts in with a musical you don’t HAVE to, of course, only if you wanna. Jorah can always count on Cobi not to ruffle any feathers. And at that, Morja’s body unfreezes, doing his little at-attention routine, shoulders drawing back like a flinch of its own. 

“Thank you, sir, I have work to do.”

Right answer, Asset. 

“Hey.” Jorah shrugs. “If you have work to do, you should do it.”

There it is, that dumb fucking tilt of the head, like he doesn’t get it. Like he doesn’t know what’s expected of him. Has to be told fucking everything - what to eat, how to kneel, when to talk, where to shit, probably. Jorah’s mouth pulls at the corners again, his teeth grit and bare. Read the room. 

That sends the asset scurrying off, click-swallow-blink, the paper cup tumbling out of his hand into the garbage, squelch squelch squelch, and that awkward thorn-in-foot limp when he retreats, dragging one foot after another. 

Jorah’s body relaxes all at once, shoulders dropping down, rolling his neck. Fuck, corralling people in line is hard work. Whatever, a sheepdog is thankless sometimes. Still. It’s a nice thought that this idiot runs off with his tail between his legs, with wet shoes and a dry tongue, unable to sit or stand. 

Setting the sodas on the table with a wide grin, Jorah lounges back for the first time, guard settled, plucking a new little ship between his fingers. 

“Fuck Go-Fish, bro, I’m stretched and hydrated now, your fleets gonna sink.”

Cobi’s face beams and then frowns a little, glancing back towards the exit, the crinkle in his face making Jorah’s stomach sour again. “Man…I hope Morja didn’t feel left out. I don’t want him to be lonely.”

Jorah flicks another ship at Cobi, drawing another sqwuak. His shoulders are down flat now, hackles soothed. The mosquito has fucked off and the room is cool and calm again.

“Aw, big softie. Get your head in the game or I’m gonna sink your battleship. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He deserves it. 

~ 

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @whump-tr0pes @haro-whumps @whumpthisway

@whumping-every-day @stoic-whumpee @whumpzone @straight-to-the-pain @redwingedwhump

@wolfeyedwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg @liliability @whumpster-draganies @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight

@tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @scoundrelwithboba

I hope you enjoyed this little snippet cause i was so so excited to write something new again!! 🥰🥰🥰 have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly 💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[starry-nights-garden]

✧ Ateez Mingi x gn!reader ✧ words: ~900 ✧ genre: angst, comfort ✧ warnings: none ✧ prompt: kissing away tears

Sadness overcomes you again. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this anymore, especially not today, yet here you are - tears welling up in your eyes, and you know it’s only a matter of time until they start trickling down your cheeks. You’re supposed to go on a date with your boyfriend Mingi for the first time in a while, having a few relaxing hours just to yourselves, yet here you are, hiding in your room mere minutes before he'll pick you up, and unable to control your feelings.

In between silent sobbing, you hear the sound of the doorbell, and you’re not sure if you’re supposed to curse his timing or your feelings, so you simply curse without any particular aim, spitting out the word “fuck” through gritted teeth. You straighten your back and you take a deep breath, trying to focus on happy thoughts only. The doorbell rings a second time, and you shout,

“I’m coming!” You’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady, but when you rush to the door and you walk past the mirror right next to it, you can see your reddened cheeks and your puffy eyes - it’s obvious that you’ve been crying. The realization hits you like a punch right to your guts, and you open the door hesitantly.

“I thought you’d never open the door for m-” Mingi greets you in a jokingly strict tone, but his expression softens immediately when he sees your face. “Have you been crying?” he asks, and you shake your head despite the obvious. 

“Just come in for now… I still gotta… check my outfit again,” you come up with a mediocre excuse to rush back to your room where you could hide from him. Trying to erase the worried expression in his eyes from your mind as he lets himself in and closes the door behind him, you start running, and you only stop when the door to your room is safely closed against your back. The cool material of the door against your palms and outstretched fingers clears your head a bit, but you still have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep more tears from falling. And then, just when you’re about to walk over to one of the drawers in order to get a tissue to wipe the tear stains off your face, you hear someone knocking. You turn on your heels in the middle of the room, and you freeze up when Mingi opens the door and peeks inside.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice small, quite fitting with the way he ducks as he walks in with careful steps once you nod slightly. He comes to a halt a few arm lengths away from you, but the way he furrows his eyebrows tells you that he really wants to do something for you, he’s just not sure if you want that as well. You take a deep breath, making your mind up to explain your state to him.

“I’m sorry…” you apologize, because you feel like you’re about to ruin this date that you’ve both been waiting for so long. And then, you break down crying once again. You stand there sobbing and feeling nothing but sorry to your boyfriend, until you sense his presence right in front of you and he puts his arms around you very carefully. His touches are light, until you nestle into his embrace and he takes that as a sign to hug you properly. He puts one of his hands on top of your head to hold you close, and when you’re starting to feel safe because he’s with you, you also feel him pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, lips wandering along the traces the tears left behind when flowing down your face. He doesn’t say anything, maybe because he doesn’t know what to say, but from his actions you can feel how much he cares about you and how much he wants to comfort you. Eventually, the urge to cry more subsides, and the tension slips away from your body, leaving you in a state of safety and calmness.

“Sorry again… and thank you,” you whisper, and your boyfriend takes a step back, bringing some distance between the two of you so he can look at your face properly. 

“It’s okay,” he replies. “Wanna relocate our date to your living room? We can watch a movie and order food if you don’t wanna go out.” You think about it for a moment. You don’t want to ruin the entire plan for Mingi, but a glance at his eyes, in which you find nothing but care and sincerity, fills you with confidence that he’d be okay with anything, so long as he can make you happy.

“That sounds like a plan,” you agree, before wrapping your arms tightly around him to share another hug with him. 

“And… if you wanna talk about it, you know…” he stammers a bit clumsily, and it puts a smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you answer, and then you add, “Maybe later.” For now, just having his comforting presence right next to you is enough. 

[gold-rhine]

For the nsfw ask game 👀 Diluc, Xiao, and Thoma. Mirror sex, overstimulation, and knife play. 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

warnings nsfw

I've already written Xiao mirror sex in the actual fic, so i'm leaving that out. and tbh i'd be hesitant to do knife play with him bc xiao has such a fraught relationship with violence and pain, wouldn't want to risk triggering him. only nice things for the baby bird.

so that leaves overstim, which i'd do with good ol' reliable bullet vibe up the ass. now, for some subs, i'd leave them tied and alone until they scream for you, but not xiao. first of all, he's such a good boy for you, he wouldn't even think of removing the vibe against your order. he will curse and pretend he hates it, but he'd never disobey. second, watching him break down is so fun. he'd turn away in embarrassment, try to hold still and hide his struggles, and not tying his hands pays off, bc he first starts gripping at the sheets, and then clawing at them. he doesn't give up after first orgasm, grunts quietly and tenses up, thighs clenching together. but when you gently run your hand over his spine, he'd break immediately, turns around with a whimper, melts in your arms, coming again and again

now, both thoma and diluc would be fun with both of the remaining prompts, but i'm gonna go with knife play for diluc. unlike xiao, he doesn't have history of torture and thousand of years of viewing himself as a corrupted weapon. instead, he is bottling his emotions during the day and pretending to be stoic and calm, and only letting these bottled up emotions out in a literal burst of fire during the fights. knife play can be a tie to this, that sense of danger that sparks up his body, allowing to access emotions more easily, but without actual violence. and, as a bonus, cutting up these expensive but ugly nobleman clothes? mwah. getting rid of that ugly necktie first. the ruby is pretty, but the tie itself is gotta go. he has so many useless straps and belts on him too. the dangly bits on the shoulders, little chains all over the place. so much to have fun with

thoma with mirror sex is just a treat, a bowl of ripe peaches when not one of them is bruised or going bad, just uncomplicated indulgent pleasure, messy and delicious. i'd order my sweet dear thoma to first jerk off in front of the mirror, on his knees naked, half-closed blinds throwing sunlight on him in golden spots, the rest in warm shadows, and then to prepare his hole, and he'd do everything obediently, with a lovely blush while fingering himself in full view. and then fuck him on all fours, while he watches himself, sweaty and heated, cock leaking and coming before permission and then having to lick it from the floor, looking up shamefully to see himself do it and getting painfully hard all over again. mwah

[cuddlepilefics]

Put your head on my shoulder

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Yunho

Caregivers: mainly Mingi

Prompts: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

TW: emeto

@whumperless-whump-event

No one’s POV.:

Yunho knew he wouldn’t have a good day when stay started their dance practice that day. Facing the mirror, weird flashes of light hit his eyes and made him wince. He knew those funny spots in his vision, had seen them many times before. They were a telltale sign of an impending migraine, so he forced down a protein bar before swallowing some medicine. If he took it early enough, it might ward off the worst of it. Yunho knew he wouldn’t get anything done once it hit, so he was determined to give it his all now to allow himself rest later. There was no point in telling his friends yet, he could still speak up once the pain started to interfere with his work.

Mingi knew Yunho better than anyone else and picked up on his hyung being quieter than usual. When he bumped the older with his shoulder and asked if anything was up, the dancer winced, shaking his head. “I’m tired”, he chuckled, hoping the younger would accept his lie. The worst was, that he was supposed to lead this dance practice, so it’d be hard to hide his struggle from the members. They’d need him to teach them well or else they wouldn’t be able to keep up with their schedule. Luckily, most of the members were still sleepy too, so they didn’t notice… for now.

It went pretty well at first, though the aura lingered the pain didn’t come and Yunho functioned pretty well. Sure, his balance was a little off and he tripped a couple of times but they were able to laugh it off as plain clumsiness. Slowly the loud music blasting from the speakers got to him though and finally triggered bursts of pain pulsing with the beat of the music. A pained crease was etched onto his forehead and didn’t fade when Hongjoong decided they should take a break. Seonghwa handed Yunho his water bottle and whispered: “Are you feeling okay, Yunho-yah?” The younger nodded but grimaced when the movement sent a jab of pain through his skull and made his head spin.

Yunho was nothing but determined, so if he had his mind set on something, he wouldn’t let anyone stop him. Not even Mingi, who worriedly watched him stumble over and over again. The rapper was under no illusion, being sadly far too familiar with his friend’s headache-face to miss the signs. He was only a little surprised when he offered Yunho some painkillers. “Thanks but I already took something when we got here”, the older admitted quietly, “Is it really that obvious? I thought I was dancing well.” – “Hyung, you’re always dancing well”, Mingi sighed, “It’s more that you seem unwell in general, quiet and withdrawn with a tense look on your face. Your eye bags are quite impressive and you having a headache was a lucky, or rather unlucky, guess.” Drawing a shaky breath, Yunho bit his lip and whispered: “Not a headache, Mingi-yah. Had an aura earlier and now the pain is setting in.” – “Well, fuck”, his dongsaeng cursed, “The music isn’t helping, huh?” A look into Yunho’s eyes told him that his guess was spot-on.

“You know that you should tell Hongjoong-hyung, right? It’s risky to practice when you have a migraine. You could hurt yourself when you get dizzy and uncoordinated”, Mingi frowned, knowing that it wouldn’t be the first time, “Why don’t you take a sick day and go back to your dorm, sleep it off?” Rubbing his face, Yunho mumbled: “Someone’s gotta teach you guys and I can still function.” He noticed the look his dongsaeng gave him and added: “I know you don’t like it, Mingi-yah, but we’d fall behind schedule if I took a break right now. I’ll try to hold out for a few more hours, so we can go over everything together and by the time I’m completely out of commission, the rest of you will be able to practice on your own.” – “Please speak up before you end up hurting yourself, even if we haven’t gone over everything by then”, Mingi warned, shooting Hongjoong a look.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa didn’t catch the short conversation between their dongsaengs but Mingi’s worried and the fact that they were disagreeing about something, was enough to confirm their suspicions that something wasn’t right at all. They didn’t have to wait all that long to finally learn what it was. Yunho was supposed to do a spin while changing positions but immediately crouched to the floor, hit with a wave of vertigo. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get his bearings while his stomach turned. Seonghwa’s hands were already on his shoulders, ready to catch him when the dancer clamped his hands over his paling lips. Suddenly, everything was quiet except for Yunho’s ragged breaths. Someone must’ve stopped the music. The sound of the trash can being set down in front of him sharply cut through the silence, the oh so glorious silence Yunho had been yearning for most of the day.

“It’s okay, Yunho-yah, we got you”, Seonghwa whispered, gently pressing down on his dongsaeng’s shoulders to make him sit. Not daring to open his eyes to the bright ceiling lights, Yunho shook his head and lowered his hands. He wouldn’t throw up. He just needed to take a few deep breaths to calm his twisting stomach because throwing up was out of question as his head felt like it’d explode from the strain if he didn’t manage to fight it down. Sluggishly pushing away the trash can, Yunho drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them, partly to shield his eyes and partly to relieve some tension in his neck. He could hear his friends whispering but was too focused on not letting the nausea overwhelm him to focus on what they were saying.

Seonghwa still rubbed his back, despite his shirt being soaked with sweat, well, he assumed it was Seonghwa but couldn’t say for certain. The lights were eventually turned off and it grew quiet once again. Hongjoong had stepped out to arrange a ride back to the dorm, while San, Wooyoung and Jongho tried to call disperse to give Yunho space. Only Seonghwa, Mingi and Yeosang remained close by in case Yunho needed anything. Drawing a shaky breath, the dancer blindly started to feel around for the trash can and straightened up when someone nudged it into his hand. He tried to focus on Seonghwa’s hand on his back to distract himself from the pounding on his head but it could only work for so long. Someone took his free hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Yunho would recognize this hand anywhere, having known it for years. He returned Mingi’s gentle squeeze as he swallowed. He didn’t want to be sick.

Mingi was impressed that Yunho had managed to battle wave after wave of almost unbearable nausea and despite two hard gags, hadn’t thrown up. The older had used to get violently ill every time he had a migraine, so this was a first but Mingi decided not to question it. He was mainly glad that Yunho was hanging in there. Hongjoong had been able to clear not only Yunho’s schedule but also Yeosang’ and Mingi’s. Mingi was a given, being Yunho’s closest friend and the most experienced when it came to the dancer’s migraines, and Yeosang being his dorm mate arguably knew best where they kept their medical supplies. Considering the time when Yunho had thrown up on their manager’s shoes before passing out, Hongjoong probably shouldn’t have been so surprised about how easy it was to clear two members to take care of him.

It most definitely took both, Mingi and Yeosang, to drag Yunho to the car, the older suddenly unable to coordinate his long legs. Seonghwa’s foresight had resulted in both of them having a plastic bag and a travel pack of tissues stuffed into their pockets. Sure, the ride to their dorm wouldn’t be long and Yunho had been more in control of his body than any of them had expected but the eldest didn’t want to be lured by a false sense of security. Good thing he wasn’t because Yunho broke into a sweat as soon as Yeosang had buckled his hyung’s seatbelt and Mingi eased the dancer’s pounding head down, lowly whispering: “Put your head on my shoulder.” Though hesitant, Yunho swallowed and rested his head on his best friend’s shoulder, weakly patting his pocket. Mingi got the hint and retrieved the plastic bag. Clutching the bag in his clammy hands, Yunho felt a little safer, though barely.

Right as they pulled into the building’s garage, Yunho lost the battle he had fought for so long, lifting the plastic bag to his ashy lips in a panic. The first gag was immediately productive, a large wave rushing up his throat. Some even came out of his nose and he groaned in pain, grateful for the strong hand on his arm steadying him. Yeosang’s gentle hand drew slow, soothing circles on his back, at least somewhat distracting him from the pain when his stomach seized again. “Almost over. You’re doing so well”, Mingi whispered, holding his best friend steady while the older threw up repeatedly. Yunho barely caught a break in between, the plastic bag in his hands growing heavier so quickly. It seemed his stomach could only calm down once he was empty.

Gasping for air, Yunho’s breath caught in his throat. He coughed harshly, black spots clouding his vision. Yeosang carefully took the bag from him, afraid the dancer was going to pass out. It wouldn’t be the first time. Mingi’s grip on Yunho’s shoulders was tight and secure, though it loosened a bit once he had helped the older lean back into the seat. Yunho panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the vertigo. He was slowly catching his breath but the spell had taken a lot out of him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he winced when he heard the crinkle of Yeosang tying up the plastic bag. Pulling out a tissue, Mingi gently dabbed across his best friend’s forehead before drying his tears. With another tissue, he wiped Yunho’s lips and breathed: “You tell us once you’re ready to go up to your dorm.” It was only then that Yunho noticed that the car had stopped moving. “I think I’ll go ahead and throw this out already. Might be able to set up some stuff and… I can close the curtains?”, Yeosang mumbled, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Mingi gave him a small nod, mouthing: “I got him, hyung.”

Mingi sat with Yunho, the dancer’s head resting on his shoulder, while Yeosang already hurried up to their shared dorm. Yeosang had disposed of the bag on his way upstairs and quickly washed his hands before turning on the kettle. He prepared a pot of ginger tea in hopes of quelling his hyung’s nausea and while letting it steep, he closed the curtains. Wanting to get as much prepared while Yunho was still resting in the car, he quickly spread a towel over the other’s pillow and set a bucket next to his bed. Anything that he didn’t have on the ready would mean them moving around later, which would inevitably aggravate Yunho’s headache no matter how carefully they moved, so Yeosang already placed an icepack on his hyung’s nightstand before checking on the tea.

Swaying softly on his feet, Yunho hung onto Mingi’s arm, partly for balance and partly because he couldn’t stand to keep his eyes open. Though Mingi promised him that they were quick, it felt like it took them an eternity to get to the right floor, the elevator ride making his stomach flutter. The younger must’ve noticed the blood draining from his face because as soon as he had unlocked the door, he dragged him to the kitchen sink. It was their closest option and a truly lucky one at that because no sooner than he gripped the counter, Yunho was retching again. Yeosang, though a little startled by the way the two had barged in, was by their side in an instant, helping Mingi steady their friend. There was barely anything left for Yunho to bring up but he couldn’t stop his stomach from trying to turn itself inside out. Spotting the cutting board he had left on the counter while preparing the tea, Yeosang hurriedly cut off a thin slice of ginger and tapped the back of Yunho’s hand. “Here, try to chew this”, he whispered worriedly, “Might lessen the nausea.”

Yunho had wanted to argue that he could not possibly chew anything right now, already gagging every couple of seconds, but he was also desperate for it to stop, so he popped the slice into his mouth and bit down on it, trying to breathe slow and steady through his nose. Though he pitched forward with a closed mouth gag, he slowly regained control of his body and weakly leant against the counter. Yeosang handed him a glass of water to rinse his mouth with and whispered: “Your room is all set up, so as soon as you feel ready to move, you can go and lay down, hyung.” Taking a couple of moments to calm down and even sip some water, Yunho waited till Mingi had taken off his shoes and returned to help him with his. He doubted he’d be able to bend down right now.

Once Yunho’s shoes were removed too, Mingi helped him to his room and gently tucked him into bed. The rapper carefully draped the icepack over his friend’s forehead and whispered: “Do you want me to sit with you?” – “For a bit?”, Yunho rasped, linking his fingers with Mingi’s. Yeosang popped in for a short moment, bringing Yunho’s tea and requesting: “Get me if either of you needs anything, kay? I’ll give you two some space but I’ll just be in my room.” Mingi nodded and mouthed a ‘thanks’ before turning his attention back on Yunho. The dancer was already knocked out though.

[blushweddinggowns]

Nancy furrowed her brow as she went to answer it, just as confused as everyone else, “Hello? What? I-Fred please be quiet for one second! How did you know I was here- I know the article is due but I’m in the- why call me if you aren’t going to let me talk!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “You know what? Yeah, just wait for me at school. I’ll be there in a few hours. Yes, hours! I’m hanging up now.”

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before addressing everyone, “It wasn’t important. I just have to stop at the school at some point today. But for now we should get going-”

But Wayne wasn’t having it. He turned back to the duo, pointing an accusing finger their way,“If either of you think you’re stepping out of this house you have another damn thing coming-”

“Okay!” Eddie interrupted, reaching out to grab Wayne’s arms, “It’s time to talk in private. The rest of you stay here.”

Eddie dragged Wayne into the back room, Steve following meekly behind. They could still hear them in such a small space, hushed voices arguing in Eddie’s room.

It made Chrissy feel weird, like she was intruding on a family moment. She knew she was, they all were. Dustin even went as far as to turn on the TV, effectively giving them the noise they needed to keep their conversation private.

“Oh my god,” Dustin breathed after a few seconds, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Chrissy glanced at the screen, her stomach dropping when she saw what it was. It was her school photo. Followed with a reporter’s voiceover, “...following a cryptic voicemail, that police suspect was a forced call. Considering the untimely deaths of multiple young women in the town of Hawkins, we need a prompt and quick response in regards to finding this young lady. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Chrissy Cunningham please call your local authorities immediately. 

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. She should have known. Of course her mom would go straight to the police. She knew that call had been pointless. Worse than pointless. If she had never said anything then she probably wouldn’t have even realized Chrissy was gone until today. 

“We can’t stay here,” Chrissy said suddenly, already feeling frantic.

“Why not?” Dustin asked, his brow furrowed, “No one else even knows you're here!”

But Robin was already moving, cursing under her breath as she got her shoes on, “Because if anyone looking for her has a single working brain cell they’ll look for me. And how do you find me?”

“You find Steve?” Dustin asked, still watching in confusion as the rest of the girls got ready to go.

“And if you’re looking for Steve,” Robin asked, “Where would you go?”

“Here,” Dustin grumbled, finally catching on. 

“There you fucking go,” Robin sighed, before calling down the hall, “Steve, Eddie, we gotta go. Now!”

“Give us a damn minute!” Eddie yelled back, but Robin wasn’t having it. She marched back there, dragging a confused Chrissy with her. 

The three men stared at them as Robin dug around, talking as she searched, “They reported Chrissy missing so that means cops are almost certainly on their way here. We need to go now-aha!”

She held up Eddie walkman, before waltzing over to Chrissy to put the headphones over her ears. She hummed the melody as she snatched the tape out of Eddie’s player, snapping quickly into the walkman and pressing play.

“There,” She said with a gentle smile, interlacing Chrissy’s fingers with her own, “Now you’re mobile.”

She turned back to Eddie and Steve, her voice softening at the kicked-puppy look on Steve’s face, “We’ll wait outside, but we need to think of a place to hide. Fast.”

“I already know a place,” Eddie sighed, waving them off. He threw his keys in their direction, Robin just catching them in time as he kept his eyes on Wayne, “Go to the van and hide in the back. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Chrissy nodded, and then Robin was dragging her off. She chanced one look back at them, her heart breaking a little at the devastated look on Wayne’s face. She felt so bad. Yes, whatever this was had started before her, but she was the brand new reason she was involved. Why all of these people were now risking themselves for her of all people. 

“This isn’t your fault, y’know,” Robin said quietly as she unlocked the van’s door, the rest of the group talking quietly amongst themselves in front of the beemer, “I can see your brain working over there.”

Chrissy shrugged as she climbed inside, settling in the back. Robin sat beside her, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Chrissy wished Robin would think about stuff like that, how often she touched her. Or maybe Chrissy wished she could start thinking of it less.

“Maybe not everything,” She mumbled, “But it’s my fault you’re involved now. Maybe you guys could have been the bystanders for once if I never happened.”

“I doubt it,” Robin laughed softly, giving Chrissy’s hand a comforting squeeze. ``I got involved by working at an ice cream shop. Don’t underestimate the randomness of this crap. Besides…”

She trailed off, scooting closer to lay her head against Chrissy’s shoulder. Close enough for the warmth of her breath to tickle Chrissy’s neck, “Getting to know you is more than worth the trouble.”

From the latest chapter of this fic

[nightghoul381]

I just read this fanfic of yours and my heart hurts😭

https://www.tumblr.com/nightghoul381/724578415945089024/hello-i-hope-you-are-doing-well-can-i-please?source=share

Is there a possibility you could make a part 2 where they notice what they did wrong except for victor since he kind of comforted them

I'm more than happy to show their softer sweet side!! (I let Victor have another turn because knowing him, the gentleness at the end of the last one would not be enough of an apology/comfort)

You can read the original post here

Prompt: Comforting words to Kate Genre: Fluff

Harrison:

The downcast expression on Kate’s face these past few days had eaten away at him and he knew that if he saw her again, looking at him from under those tear-soaked lashes, he’d be a goner.

He had just been trying to protect her. She didn’t belong here, among all of these cursed men. She just needed to keep her head down and get through the month and she’d be granted the freedom denied to so many others who had discovered Crown’s secret.

There were just a couple of weeks left. Just a couple of weeks and she could be free to move on. But now he felt the anxiety clawing at his chest as she met his gaze briefly in the hall that night.

His mind had gone blank… How was he supposed to ignore her when she looked so absolutely crest-fallen. Before he had even realized what he was doing, he had reached out and grabbed her hand, prompting her to turn and look at him in confusion.

“I’m…sorry.”

Kate’s eyes flashed in disbelief. Was he telling the truth? Was he lying? Kate wasn’t sure but she nodded anyway, withdrawing her hand and sighing.

“I forgive you.”

The statement is short and brief, but Harrison feels so much relief as she says them. She forgives him. She truly forgives him. But the look on her face is still reserved and unsure, can she really trust him?

Harrison runs his hand over the back of his neck and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Can we start over? I shouldn’t have treated you the way I have… I just… I don’t want you to end up getting attached to this place, to Crown. Nothing good will come of it. But I can’t stand seeing you like that, so… Hi, I’m Harrison Gray.”

Jude:

The criminals holed up in this abandoned factory were involved in human trafficking. Kate had no business tagging along. It was like throwing a piece of meat in front of a pack of starving wolves, of course they’re gonna try and snap her up.

Did she not see the damn guys following behind them? It’s like she was asking to get grabbed. She was too naïve for this mission, hell she was too naïve to be involved with Crown at all. But she’s here and Jude had no choice but to keep her safe. She was a walking disaster, but it’s not like he was about to let her just serve herself on a silver platter to these bastards.

“Ya good?” Jude sighed, drawing to a stop and glancing over his shoulder.

“Why do you care?” Kate snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

“D’ya know why we’re here?” Jude huffed.

“I’m here to observe how you and the others handle the mission and report back to Victor.”

“The mission, princess, is to flush out the human trafficking ring that’s been hiding out here. A damn poor choice for a naïve child like you to be thrown on. Yer like an easy meal for these guys, that’s why ya gotta keep yer mouth shut. I ain’t lookin’ to let you get yourself kidnapped and sold off.”

Kate’s eyes widened in shock. Of course, she hadn’t bothered to actually figure out what she was getting herself into… hopefully she’d be more careful next time.

Victor:

“Darling Kate, I wanted to address my behavior from earlier tonight. Would you have some time to talk?”

Victor stood outside her door, listening intently for any sign that she would be coming to the door. The clacking of the typewriter keys stops suddenly and the sound of the metal doorknob turning gave Victor a rush of relief.

“Victor… um, there’s really no need. You told my why you were upset and you had every right to. I was being foolish and should have known better,” Kate muttered, her head dropping in shame.

A jovial chuckle rumbles in Victor’s chest and Kate lifts her head slightly to see if she is actually hearing correctly.

“My dear girl, I came to apologize, not to come up with excuses for my behavior. The way I reacted was unacceptable and certainly would have been no help in comforting you after such an experience. I should have tempered my own emotions before speaking to you, I am relieved you’re alright, truly.”

Victor looked down at Kate with a gentle smile and her eyes softened, her own lips twitching upward slightly.

“Thank you, Victor. I appreciate you coming all this way to apologize. I, um…” Kate awkwardly wraps her arms around him in a brief hug.

“I really am thankful to you,” she sighs, “and I’m sorry myself for acting so rashly after you had already spoken to me about the potential dangers.”

Victor lifted one of his hands and patted her on the top of her head, his normal bright grin on his face.

“I believe we’ve both learned from this experience, so there’s nothing to apologize for. Now then, I have a platter of fresh croissants in the kitchen if you’d care to join me for some?”

William:

“Kate.”

William had pulled Kate into a dark alleyway while they were out on a mission. His vivid red eyes searched her face; a face devoid of emotion.

“What do you need William,” Kate sighed, her expression never changing. William didn’t realize at first just how painful it would be to not see how her eyes would light up when she saw him, how her face would grow red when he was in close proximity.

“I feel like we should discuss what happened the other evening,” William murmured, trying to close the distance between them only for Kate to take an equal step backward.

“What is there to discuss. You’ve made it perfectly clear that I mean nothing to you. I don’t need you to try to patch things up, there’s nothing to patch.” Kate’s voice was low, monotone, and William’s mouth grew dry at the finality of her words.

“I… I spoke out of line that night, Kate,” William whispered.

“I thought I could protect you if I denied my own desires and pushed you away, but I’ve only hurt you far more than I ever imagined. Kate, I am deeply sorry for how I’ve hurt you. I was a fool to think that pushing you away would lead to anything but heartbreak for the both of us.”

Kate’s face finally showed the slightest change in expression, a faint confusion creasing her brow and her eyes narrowing slightly.

“…Both of us?” she finally asked, her voice hinting at the way her mind had begun to pull back the lid she’d put on her emotions.

“Kate. If you believe anything I say, believe this. I too have fallen completely in love with you. I want nothing more than to take you can keep you, to have you hold me in your arms and you in mine. I just fear that in then end it will end up hurting you far more than I can take. But I cannot deprive you of your truest desires, nor myself of mine, even if in the end it leads to nothing but pain.”

William took another step forward, his hands reaching out to grab Kate’s, who willingly let him take them,

“Would you grant me my desire, and allow me to show you the love I feel. I am just as much yours as you said you were mine. My heart belongs to you, Kate.”

Kate’s eyes began to water, “this isn’t a dream?” she whispered, her grip tightening.

William smiled gently, closing the last bit of distance.

“Not a dream, little robin. If you still want me, I’m yours.”

Taglist: @judejazza @aquagirl1978, @themiscarnival @abundance-pathchooser @xbalayage @maries-gallery @randonauticrap also tagging @lemeowade since you requested the original fic ^w^

[gumiluver]

can I have prompts 14 and 15 with Gojo, pretty please 🤭 feel free to do whatever you want with them I just think they fit him so well

ofc luv!! & I agree lolol these two prompts are def gojo coded—I hope you enjoy!! <3

prompt 14: What’s that? Ohh pretty girl, you know the rules, ‘m not stopping ‘til I hear our safeword—you get me?

prompt 15: “Aww, you cryin’ for me? Is my dick too good for you baby?”

luver <3: gojo satoru x afab! reader

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18--minors will be blocked (DNI), wc: 1.2k

cw: smut, nsfw, mdni, dacryphilia, manhandling, dirty talk, pet names (princess, pretty girl, babygirl, brat), restraining, teasing, brat taming, fingering

border credit: @/cafekitsune, pic credit: manga panel!!

Satoru always had such a filthy mouth.

Every single word that came out of the strongest sorcerer alive was laced with pure filth—at least, when it was directed towards you.

You knew not to get intimately involved with him, but the constant banter between the two of you only heightened the sexual tension that was already present—so strong that not even cursed tool: playful cloud could shatter the connection.

So when he gets you splayed out perfectly on his bed, both arms pinned above your head—a cocky grin adorning his face, making sure to mind your place, you knew the game had already started.

He peers down at you with such intensity you can feel yourself shiver under his touch—your pussy quivering for more. He knew it too, he could quite literally feel the way your pussy purrs for him as he fingers your cunt, “ooohh she’s calling out for me, hear that baby~?”

It doesn’t make it any better that he seems to be in a much more playful mood than usual, wanting to assert control over the situation—demonstrating so by having you completely bare before him as he remains fully clothed. A powerful move from a powerful man, and it seems to have lured you right into a trap that you’ve been all too familiar with recently.

Embarrassed, you peer down below to avoid confessing. You were close to breaking, both he and you knew it. You always get so flustered and needy whenever he has you trapped in his web, becoming a dead give away of your pending undoing.

“s-stop teasing me ‘toru,” you mumble, exasperation laced in every word you spoke as your hips sinfully swayed along his fingers and thigh. The moan you let out was delicate, but shit didn’t it make you sound oh so delectable.

“Oh? Someone’s impatient,” he teases, but nevertheless, heeds your command. He hastily shoves his pants down, too amped in adrenaline to strip away—a dead give away of how pussywhipped this man has become for you. He wants you just as much as you want him, maybe even a bit more.

“Pretty girl’s gotta attitude today,” he chides, unable to hide his glee. For him, your brattiness has become a blessing in disguise—uncovering a newfound endeavor in your relationship with him. Every time he gets the chance to tease and rile you up until you talk back, stamp around, or furrow your brows is a dead giveaway for an…interesting day.

And he won’t deny it either, he loves fucking the brat out of you.

“Don’t start cryin’ on me, ‘kay pretty thing? You’re gonna take all of my cock in nicely for me won’t you?” gojo guides his leaking tip against your soaked folds, and before he can press his hips towards your pelvis and thrust his cock down into you, you’ve already shimmied those sneaky hips of yours upwards—effectively pulling in an inch or two more than he intended, shocking him in the process.

“D-damn it, f-fuck aghh—“ he groans, quickly splaying his hand and forearm across your tummy and reaffirming his grip on your wrists. A sweet chuckle sings amidst the haze of lust and it brings Satoru back into reality, allowing himself to stop from sinking fully into your princess pussy and ruining all the fun—sneaky little minx.

“Naughty brat,” he clicks his tongue, nipping slightly at your neck and tilting his hips away from your pussy. Ohhh no—you won’t be getting off that easy, not after that little stunt you just pulled.

“Ah ah babygirl, we go at my pace tonight.”

What seemed like hours of sadistic torture for you was truly only ten minutes of Satoru’s teasing, pulling out and pushing in soooo slowly—sometimes even stilling inside of you and effectively cockwarming himself. When he’s feeling generous, he’ll give a little circle or two of his hips or will draw figure eights along your slit whilst fully submerged within your depths. You would squirm and beg for him to hurry up, pick up the pace, to just fuck you already, but he would always quiet you down and still your sultry hips by pressing firmer onto your tummy and wrists—all in a way that made you feel so fucking alive.

“I-I can’t, no more!! please ‘toruu just fuck me!!” you cry, puppy dog eyes pulling out those show-stopping tears that make his cock throb ridiculously and chest groan ferociously. You can almost feel his cock becoming thicker—bigger. Molding your pussy to the shape of his dick; molding it to take him for all his worth and then some.

To say he was obsessed with you would be criminal. This, was possession at its finest.

His eyes light up once he hears you beg for him, sees you cry for him, feels you tremble for him.

The perfect lover for the strongest man.

“Aww, you cryin’ for me? Is my dick too good for you baby?” he growls lowly, starting up a brutal pace that has your titties bounce from the sheer force. He quickly latches onto one, licking along the delicate flesh and sucking slightly to further harden your bud.

“You cryin’ soo much for me to fuck you harder—love my dick so fuckin’ much don’t ya baby,” he doesn’t let up on your breasts. Instead, switching to the other as he mumbles those words to you. A man possessed by the sheer glory of your titties and tummy, feeling the way your body ripples against his skin—his powerful thrusts shaking you to your core. You’re moaning so loudly, so violently you almost start to worry about getting a noise complaint.

Almost.

You stopped caring once Satoru let go of his hold, switching positions effortlessly by maneuvering his hands to wrap around underneath your thighs, pushing your legs all the way up to your ears. The grunt he lets out as he stares down at you can be described as animalistic—monstrous, even. It reverberates throughout gojo’s house and makes your heart drop down to your slutty cunt.

“Fuckk, you better get ready for me princess cause ‘m not playin’ around this time.”

He resumes his brutal pace in this much more intimate position, losing himself in the rhythm of your hips and watching the way your plush thighs jiggle with each thrust of his pelvis against you. Fuck he could cum just to that—it makes him go absolutely wild and feeds his ego like nothing else.

“aaa!! ‘toruu~!! toomuchtoomuchtoomuch!! w-wait a sec-ahh~!!” you whine out, pressing your hands on his defined chest, pathetically pushing him away from your body in a fake attempt to escape, serving only to rile your lover up—still holding onto that bratty attitude aren’t you?

“What’s that? Ohh pretty girl, you know the rules, ‘m not stopping ‘til I hear our safeword—you get me?”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he has his signature look, his confident aura, his teasing smirk.

And yes, while Satoru does have a filthy mouth, you can’t help but love that it’s only catered to you.

a/n: sorry for the smol hiatus guys, lots of big things happening in my life!! anyways, hope y’all enjoyed this—requests still open!! <33

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators