#poking my brain with a stick. with another stick. and another stick. and another. and another

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 41 - A Bad Feeling

I forgot to put a chapter summary. Fever brain!

On AO3.

Naturally, y’all get jumped immediately. Fucking walking skeletons in armor. You accidentally pull a Brenden Frasier and jab the skull of one, only for the spearhead to stick in the eye socket and pop the damn thing off the body. And you get no time to try to shake that off before you gotta jab another one. Fucking skull-kebab. You sure are glad Lae’zel thought to start you with spears and not some dipshit sword. Stabbing things at a distance is a little easier.

Astarion whirls through the fight in a snarling, white and black blur. Seems especially vicious. But once it’s over and y’all stand around, poking piles of bones and armor, you sidle up to him.

“You good?” you say.

He wipes down his knife before sheathing it. “Just fine. Perhaps a bit eager to be done with all this.”

You ain’t sure if “this” is that fucker Raphael, the brainworm cult, or the ridiculous, underground goth cathedral.

You’re about to join in on the bitching session, but he moves off before you can say nothing.

Man’s worked up. It’s understandable.

Ain’t no reason for the twinge of hurt.

Shadowheart is all for heading right down the throat of the gauntlet. There’s a straight-shot hallway doing just that, far as y’all can tell. There’s also two other hallways that branch off, one to either side.

The group debates each, but you’re watching Astarion. Notice him pad towards the right-hand branch, frowning. Watch him scent the air. His scowl deepens.

“We wanna check the corners before activating them trials, right?” you say.

Shadowheart’s mouth opens. But the others is already nodding.

“Been ambushed in something a lot like this,” Karlach says. “Whole hoard of barbazu came screaming down this canyon. Broke my ax in one of them’s skulls, and had to use the horns on a severed head to hack my way out.”

A good half of the group gives her some real appraising looks. You rock back and forth a couple times to make sure your knees don’t go full jelly.

Shadowheart throws up her hands. Don’t quite stomp after y’all. Lets y’all walk along for several moments before catching up to you.

“Do you know what a cleric is, exactly?” she says. Takes you a second to realize she’s talking to you.

“Umhm?” you say.

“A kind of priest. One who channels the power of the god or goddess they serve.”

You ain’t sure what to say about that, so you only nod.

Shadowheart sighs. “My Lady is the source of my magic, Eleanor. I doubt this immortal general will go quietly, even if we find a way to remove that immortality. If we’re to better our chances, it would be a good idea to make sure all of us are as prepared as we can be.”

When you nod again, “Dark justiciars are second only to a Mother Superior. They hold the Lady’s favor. I could channel her power better than I ever have if I can claim that. Once I complete the gauntlet. You like staking the odds in our favor.”

Ah. She’s noticed that, huh? She’s trying to appeal to you to, what, help her?

For all her fucked up goddess seems to wallow around in, she is a god. You guess. Those are real things here (Gale used to fuck his) (fucking weird). And you do want to collect any and all advantages you can get, because there’s no such thing as a fair fight.

You look at her. Black hair cut into harsh bangs to frame her face. Her thick eyeliner, the scar over her nose and the almost…pleading in her green eyes.

She don’t need your permission. She don’t need anybody’s. So why is she so desperate?

“What you do with your life ain’t up to me,” you say. “I wouldn’t do any of this, but I ain’t you. If…I’ll support you. Whatever you decide, I got your back.”

If she decides to go through with it, well. You don’t know about the place enough to make a solid judgement. But if she hesitates, if that pleading is something else, she needs to know somebody will reach out to catch her. Should she need it.

Like you did.

The relief takes ten years off her. Her smile crinkles her eyes for the first time in a long while, and she gives you a clipped nod. There’s the woman who helped you.

Behind y’all, Lae’zel says, “Something smells of death.”

***

“—if I hear one more snide remark about my whiff of undeath,” Astarion whispers as y’all scuttle up to an open archway.

“You’re actually not as fragrant as I thought you’d be,” Shadowheart says. “For a walking corpse.”

“And you’re exactly as tasteless and tactless as I’d expect you to be, for a Sharran.” The last part said with an oozing simper.

You’re about ready to clock their heads together. Stupid fucking elves. Half-elves. Whatever.

“Do y’all need to go back to the hotel?” you say. “Because it sounds an awful lot like we need to turn this car the fuck around.”

It buys you a baffled second or two of squinting perplexity. Before Wyll creeps back out into the hall.

“Looks clear,” he says. “But I have a nasty hunch it isn’t.”

“It isn’t,” Lae’zel says. She’s stationed herself on the other side of the round archway y’all hide behind, and you can’t help but think it’s to get away from the bickering. Right now, though, she leans out to stare into the horror chamber beyond.

You caught the stink of it before y’all actually found it. Metallic rot and the almost-sweet stink of dead things. You caught one glimpse, maybe ten second in total, and stepped back before your stomach could process it.

You ain’t exactly a stranger to horror in an academic sense. You seen farm injuries and read about way worse. But an actual, human spine with a head still attached? Pink muscle and white gristle and ligaments half chewed off?

Like them beef bones they sell at the supermarket around the holidays. Just regular cuts of an animal, that’s all. Just meat, just a hog for slaughter. You dealt with all those.

Those didn’t have no ear attached. With a ring still pierced through it.

Fuck fuck jesus fucking shit fuck.

“It seems a good chance that this is the lair of the devil Raphael was talking about,” Gale says.

“It’s a lair of something,” Astarion says.

Karlach peers in again, giving it an almost thoughtful—in a pants-shitting kinda way—frown.

“There was a second story in there,” you say after gulping down excess spit. “Like a busted-off balcony. Think we can sneak off and find a way up there? Circle back around?”

Wyll nods. “Approaching from the high ground.”

There’s more doors down the hall. Got to be a way up. Cause walking right in seems a real fucking stupid—

“No more hiding,” something says.

Ain’t one, goddamn human thing about it. The voice is less a voice and more the impact of a hammer to the side of a face. An ax blade crunching through an arm. Screaming and squealing and mangling formed somehow into words.

You reach out to catch yourself before you can topple over. Even Lae’zel has to give her head a shake, blinking fast.

“Come in,” the thing says. “No use for the entertainment to run. Yet.”

“The fuck,” you whisper, voice so dry your throat clicks in the attempt.

None of y’all really say nothing else. No looks of agreement. It’s like a barbed hook jabs you through the guts, reeling you into the room on jittering legs. Past more body parts. Past a mound of pink and gray, rotten viscera humming with bloated flies and white, wriggling—

You force yourself to look straight ahead as a new gag catches in your throat.

The floor above done crashes down, at some point. A couple torches cast weak, orange light here and there, but leave a lot of the place in shadow. The deepest shadow is at the top of the smashed-down ramp.

It steps outta that rancid darkness. Huge. Broad. The air screams in horror around it, even before you register the skulls hanging like a beaded necklace over its thick chest. A bull-like face, eyes literally glowing a hateful orange.

“Holy fuck, it’s a fucking orthon,” Karlach breathes. You ain’t never heard her like that before. Even Wyll’s got a distinctly gray cast to him.

The thing’s got hands with three-inch claws on them. Inhuman feet, like a deer hoof the size of a dinner platter, but broken up like they was trying to shatter into grotesque fingers. The man-sized sword barely registers against all that.

“You’re too fresh for this place, aren’t you?” it says. Its breath is carrion stink and what you can only describe as battlefield rot: ripped bowels and blood and fear. It feels oily, somehow. Like rancid grease slathered over your skin. “There’s a hint of the surface to you.”

The fucks an orthon? you shove at the others, mostly a gibbering scream.

Karlach answers: flash of fire and a screaming sea of devils. Hulking shapes amongst them, charging through smaller enemies like a dragon smashing through a forest.

War devil. Carnage incarnate.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, you’re all gonna die. You made a bad call, finally.

Then them glowing eyes shift. Fix on something behind you. “You. Tiefling. You’ve got the stench of the hells about you. A servant of Zariel if I’m not mistaken.” It sniffs the air, a gross, wet noise like an oversized hound snuffling around a bloated carcass on the side of the road. “I’d know the stink of infernal machinery anywhere.”

Somehow, Karlach keeps herself steady (you wish you was bundled up in her strong arms). Looks straight at that thing and says, “What do you know of infernal machinery?”

The thing regards her a moment. Claws tap on the hilt of its giant, fuck-off sword. “Only what I smell. And whatever engine burns within you, it’s grinding to an inevitable explosion. Burning and fear; you reek of it.”

You can feel its attention on her. Slick and sharp and terrible. A horrifying anticipation.

Then the not-quite words sort of register, and you blink and look over. Karlach don’t meet your gaze.

What? Explosion?

Another snuffle. A pig around its fallen owner, tusks slicked with saliva as it chomps, chomps, chomps. “There’s something else, though. Cherries, musk. And sulfur.”

When it snarls your bladder damn near releases. Them eyes blaze like them hell pits over in Turkmenistan. Like an opening in the heart of a volcano.

“Raphael,” the thing bellows. “I can smell him all over you. Where is he?”

You’re gonna tell him whatever he wants to know. Do whatever he tells you. Go throw yourself over the railing outside and plunge into the depths just to get the fuck away.

You used to go blank something like this when the Pastor uttered your name. When Mother found you amongst the congregation or when one of the Aunts reached for you.

Shaking, panting like a winded horse, you look up. Though chattering teeth, you manage, “You. Uh. Know him?”

“That perfumed trickster swindled me. Trapped me here.”

He should die for that, you want to say. Want to offer to do it yourself. Anything to get away. Anything to make this thing not look at you, not notice you. Give it whatever it wants.

“I. I know what you mean. About him.” Got no corn-husking idea how the fuck you’re forming words, but somehow you are.

“Where is he. Spit it out. Now.”

He lifts that sword. Didn’t the Japanese make something like that? Made for taking down fucking horses?

“I don’t really know where he is right now. But maybe. Maybe we could help each other? With him? He done us dirty, too.” You’re not actually talking, so much as babbling. Barely aware of your own words. A little toggle stuck open and pouring out shit you can barely comprehend.

Shadowheart is all alarm, like licking a battery. “Careful. I’m not sure we want Raphael as an enemy.”

The thing laughs. It sounds like snapping bones and crushed skulls. “Bargaining, are you?”

And then he tells a story. Slaughtered concubines. Children. A skull as a…codpiece?

They got codpieces here. Oh look, a random detail you can latch onto, turn over like a smooth rock in your pocket again and again.

“You can do nothing,” the thing says. “It’s not just walls that keep me here. I am bound by a contract. If I leave this place, I will become Raphael’s slave.”

Of fucking course he would. Ratfuck sonuvabitch fucking devil’s asshole. That explains why the poncy prick ain’t coming down himself. He don’t want this guy dead, does he? Or not just dead. Cause bad people go to hell, so what happens to demons if they die? Probably some kinda desertion, for these fuckers.

You still send that question to the brainworm group chat. And yeah, devils just go back to hell when they die.

Raphael is using y’all to enslave this thing.

Jesus titty-fucking christ.

Shadows move above. Hellbeast ain’t alone. And you’d rather try to chew through a redwood with your teeth than fight this thing. Cause you’ll die. One hundred percent, y’all cannot win this fight.

“What’s the contract?” you say.

“What are you doing?” Astarion hisses in your ear.

“I got experience with contracts,” you say.

Filing them, mostly. Standing in as witness or backup to the witness. True crime shit or that youtube lawyer’s videos.

It’s a fucking hail mary, is what it is. But so far you are still breathing, and if that ain’t already a giant, fucking hail mary. Worst case scenario, you fuck up and get bitten in half in a few minutes rather than dying to brainworm cult or fucked up hyenas or some new bullshit later.

You glance to Gale. His lips is moving silently, fingers twitching in a tiny pattern. He gives you the world’s tiniest nod.

He’ll open a portal. Y’all might have a chance to run.

“Do you now?” the walking catastrophe says. It eyes you. Then sets the tip of the sword to the floor and rests its hands on it like an old timey cane. “Very well. It’s been some time since I’ve heard a proper grovel.”

And he starts to…sing?

It’s the wailing of the dying. The shriek of a man disemboweled alive. Screeching and sobbing as limbs are ripped off, ribcages smashed in. Torment and horror shoved into a sack and dragged over a pit of burning gravel and for the second time in twenty-four hours, you damn near piss yourself.

“Spill all the blood sworn to night; Silence all prayers, smother each rite. Wander Shar’s halls, hungry to slay; Leave no justiciar alive to obey."

You ain’t look at Shadowheart. Can barely keep focus on your body to stop it shaking to pieces.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free; This is your oath. Swear, swear it to—”

It hits you like a crack over the head. Can’t say what, exactly, in that moment. But that instinct, that shining line snaps you in the face and before you can process anything, you slam through the bleating animal terror in your head.

“Stop!”

You ain’t especially loud. Voice ain’t especially sharp. Compared to the soul-shattering horror of that thing singing, you ain’t shit.

But you catch it off guard, you think. Probably ain’t used to being interrupted. And why would it? Fucking demon kaiju up there. Only a total dumbshit would do something that suicidal and oh, you was the dumbshit why would you do that?

“Oh fuck,” Karlach says.

The thing up there blinks its hellfire eyes slow. Almost placidly. And in the voice of a nuclear detonation, it says, “What did you just say?”

[atlantablack]

I am begging my brain to just chill out. I was so sleepy, so sleepy and as soon as I got in my bed my brain went well actually, what if, you have a new time travel plot :D like do I not??? Have enough??? Time travel plots???????? 😭😭

[keeps-ache]

i should learn to make hash browns

[figureitoutinthemorning]

So much for ‘I’ll get chapter 2 done by Wednesday’ lmao

[leatherbookmark]

It's entirely possible that I've been sleep deprived for the past week and it's catching up to me. But also: oh my god I'm a shit writer everything I make is super fucking bad and only bugs, who are illiterate, would ever enjoy it (if it was printed on some yummy paper)

[screampied]

‘ BIG OLE FREAK !! ★

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, choso, sukuna. whipped jujutsu kaisen men who can’t last a second without you or your puśsy.

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, overstim, pussydrunk men, dumbification, ōral (f! receiving) messy eating, car sēx (geto), slight dom choso, manhandling, boob fondling, size kinks, brēeding, phone sēx (toji), fıngering, premature ejac, impact play, dirty talk, praise.

an. thank you megan thee stallion

☆ GOJO: “HE THROW A FIT WHEN I LEAVE HIM.”

“but babyyy,” satoru pouts, pink rumpled lips curling up into a frown once you start to moderater slow your hips down. “hmph. missed you all day today,” and you moan, feeling his hot breath aerate into the inner junction of your neck. he’s so touchy, he’s got two open hands pasted to your active torso as you’re being fucked dumb. as you’re bouncing on his cock, that same canorous drawn out moan that rips from your throat never fails to sound like a harmony. “fuck, don’t go. don’t leave yet. ‘m not done with my pretty girls.”

and as he babbles his pleads for you to stay a bit longer, his hands creep toward your neglected breasts. his ‘girls’ being you and your tits. so rounded and plump. your nipples were all perky and aroused. he just had to skim a fat thumb near your sensitive nubs. as you’re leisurely riding him in reverse, you let off another moan once his reddened tip thrashes repeatedly against your achy clit. “toru, ngh. you do this everytime,” and with each bounce, your brain starts to short circuit. he’s stretching you open so much that your mouth sags open. “fuck, you’re such a brat.”

“your brat, baby,” he coos, correcting you in a sweet voice against your ear. his tone was forevermore cheeky. despite how you were ferociously riding him stupid, he still had a bit of playfulness left in him. vigorously, sharp swats of loose skin smack against each other in desperate hits and you’re feeling yourself start to froth from such elated pleasure. satoru’s broad hands remain cupped on your tits before he squeezes them, licking a wet long stripe near your neck. “but god, you’re so fuckin’ hot. gonna cum jus’ from your voice, angel.”

panting, your hips swivel in a circular rotation before you roll your eyes—hovering the weight of your knees over and into his bulky thighs. “you’d cum jus’ from me breathing, satoru.”

“you know me so well, heh,” the white-haired male sucks against your tender collarbone. so sweet, but even though he’s trying to tease you he’s already about to cum. satoru presses his thumbs into your sides before groaning gruffly. “fuck, i’m not gonna last baby. s- serious.”

“you never last, ‘toru,” you mewl out sweetly, matching the intervals of his pants.

his towering cock pokes and prods in all the right spots of your cunt repeatedly. sloppy strings of slick stick and glue against his cock and your bare ass as if it was some sort of adhesive substance. you grind your hips quicker into him, watching as he leans his head into your chest. with a gasp leaving out of your pursed lips, satoru then grabs ahold of one of your breasts, merrily popping it into his mouth. “ngh, satoru.” you whine, feeling your tender nipple get fondled by his warm damp tongue. within seconds—his licks turn into sucks and his eyes close, savoring the tasteless taste of your breast in his mouth.

with the way you’re frantically bouncing on his lap, you’re barely even steady anymore and he has to hold your tit in place so it can stay in his mouth without slipping out. satoru doesn’t mind though, as long as he gets a good taste.

your knees continue to dig into his thighs as he’s sucking on each of your tits — you whimper, watching as his pretty snowy white lashes flutter close. he’s got the most pussy-drunken grin curving against his face, faint dimples making an appearance near the crevices of his lips. he’s so pretty, you can’t help but wrap an arm around him, holding him close. “s- so good,” he whines, briefly removing his mouth from your plump mounds. with low half-lidded eyes, you watch as strands of thin spit depart away from his lips. he’s so messy, and yet he doesn’t care. satoru catches you staring before he licks near your chin real slow and seductive like. “i know ‘m pretty baby but i didn’t say you could s- stop riding m— fuck.”

he gets crudely cut off by you wrapping a hand around his slim throat, quickening your bouncy hips. satoru moans out a slutty moan and his abs as if on cue, clench and tighten. everything’s so good, he feels like he’s about to break with the way you ride him. he’s in love.

“h- hey, that’s kinda kinky,” he sheepishly says, his cock still thrusting in and out of you. satoru’s just laid back, allowing you to do all the work with your unpredictable hips. you looked so good like this though—straddling on top of him, gradually choking him. he had literal heart eyes in his pupils and your actions only made him ten times more whipped. “shit.”

but you let off a moan once he reached a certain spot after a while. it’s abrupt, and you turn dimwitted almost immediately. satoru ends up getting much closer before you though, because you can tell purely from his body language. with the way your ass circles and throws itself around his pelvis, he’s already done for. that recoil of yours could make anyone hungry for more. “fuck, ‘toruuuu,” you hiss his name, the crude skin slapping of both frail limbs making you bite the inside of your cheek. he’s holding both of your hips before with the rough clashing of rutting bodies, he whines. satoru doesn’t realize he’s cumming until you actually start to feel it pour into you.

it shoots quick into your womb, velvety ropes that make you bite your lip. it’s so so much that you feel hot spurts of it dribble down between your inner thighs. satoru’s panting heavily against your ear, ivory brows curling up together and he’s always got such the prettiest orgasm face.

his mouth remains open and a bit of drool seeps out the cracking corners. you kiss near his swollen lips as he’s dumping yet another load into you. “ughhh,” he shivers, two big hands squeezing your ass for comfort. satoru feels a slimy wad of his cum trickle past your folds and coat onto his base and he stares at it, then at you. he’s got the most feral look in his eyes before he lets off a bashful whimper. “h- have my kids, please.”

☆ TOJI — “AIN’T NOBODY FREAK LIKE ME.”

“c’mon, babygirl. put ‘er on the phone. let me listen,” toji purrs, his voice on the other end of the line raspy yet staticky.

as you sit up on the comforter with your legs prettily sprawled out, you were heavily panting. you missed him, you missed him bad. toji, like usual had work. he never exactly told you what he does for a living nor did you really care to ask. but he’d be away for hours and you couldn’t help but text or call him about your little ‘situation’ whenever you tried to touch yourself. you try to touch yourself in the way that he does but it never works. no one’s fingers could compare to his.

“o- okay,” you swallow, using a thumb to press down against the white speaker button on your phone. pulling the speaker part of the phone down towards your sopping cunt, you grow quiet, letting him get a good listen. right away, you heard the sounds of toji’s heavy breaths. he grows quiet for a good twenty seconds and you’re growing impatient. “toji? are you still th-”

“ah ah. shut the fuck up, baby. ‘m tryna hear my girl,” and you pout, dragging your middle finger down your dribbling pussy. you were a bit overly sensitive, considering. just a few minutes ago, you ended up finishing with the help of your vibrator. his voice was so stern yet you listened anyway. toji feels a strain forming inside the heavy wranglers he wore. you’re so wet, he wishes he was there just as much as you did. toji holds the phone up to his ear before grunting. “spank her for me. tell her i’ll be there real soon.”

you let off another soft moan, bringing a gentle spank towards your weeping cunt. toji hears it all, the sharp contact of your palm that thwacks against your folds goes echoes right through the phone’s speakers. your teeth dig into your bottom lip at the brief pang of pleasure that shortly follows. “toji, please. need you, can’t do this by myself.”

“aw, that’s what you get f’r not waitin’ for me to get home anyway, little girl,” a husky voice replies. you heard the groan trying to wretch from his throat as he spoke. toji was most definitely hard, but you knew more than anything, he hated whenever you touched yourself. especially whenever he wasn’t around, he thinks it’s amusing. “sound so fuckin’ wet though. jus’ pretend y’er fingers are mine, baby.”

slumping back in frustration—you sigh, hearing a gruff cackle follow seconds later. “but i can’t, ‘s not the same, toji. you do it better.”

“damn right, babygirl,” toji snickers, and his voice pitched so deep in a way that you felt yourself throbbing. the creeping timbre that rides his tone makes your toes curl up. you need him bad, it seemed like it’s been years since he’d left but it’s only been just a few hours. by now, two fingers of yours were crumped up in your drooling cunt. you make an attempt at trying to copy how toji usually does it - swirling two fingers around the inside it reaches that spongey texture. you whimper on the phone, invading your gummy walls with twin whirling digits before your pants grow louder against the speaker. “so cute. tryin’ so hard, huh. wish toji was here to spank that pussy right, hm?”

“y- yes,” you chew on your words, chafing trembly pathetic fingers near your needy cunt. you didn’t care how dumb you sounded - you wanted toji to come home. you hadn’t even realized you were now flipped over, grinding against your pillow. technically, his pillow — you were laid on his side of the bed for a reason. in hot sharp breaths, you hold the phone up to your mouth, letting off another elongated moan. toji huffs at your sweet sounds, having to turn his volume down multiple notches due to you being so loud. “toji please, come home. ‘m gonna cum without you again.”

a sly smirk compresses against his lips before he grouses through the phone. “hm. fine, hang up ‘n gimme a sec, baby.”

you didn’t know what kind of trick he had up his sleeve but you hang up. you’re panting so much, it’s almost as if you some kind of dog in hear. your fingers that remain helplessly buried in your cunt felt like they were starting to grow numb. once your thumb presses against the button to end the call, the room suddenly goes quiet.

but abruptly, the front door opens and it’s toji.

you furrow your eyebrows, confused on how he got here so quick but right as you were about to greet him with a hug, he pokes your forehead. “not so fast, baby. y’er in trouble,” and you gasp once he goes toward you, picking you up and tossing you to lie on your chest. with a rude spank, he smacks your ass. “gonna have ‘ta discipline this sloppy pussy all over again. now now, you know the drill. ass up, face fuckin’ down.”

☆ SUKUNA — “NEED YOU TO SPIT MAKE THAT MOTHERF*CKER GLISTEN.”

“tch. can’t hear or are ya jus’ plain stupid, brat? spread ‘em,” sukuna snarls, hovering right over your body.

his dark heightened stare made you gulp - just menacingly looking at you as if you was prey. his prey. crimson red eyes bore into your pretty physique as you left off a shaky breath, slowly spreading your legs apart from him. “good girl. glad ‘ta hear you can follow directions.”

a pout stretches against your lips but that soon switches once his tongue laps against your folds. you shudder, feeling the faint spiky texture of his forked tongue flick down your sobbing cunt in small strokes. from the slit, you’re drenched and he’s been craving a taste for a while. you’re laid back against the mattress whilst your toes involuntarily curl up. when it comes to sukuna, he’s never one to waste his precious time—especially whenever it came to pussy. you let off a whimper the moment he grabs ahold of your thighs, squeezing them in place. “sukuna, fuck.”

you’re met with a rude glower as he’s positioned right between your thighs. he’s moving his head side to side as he creates a long sloppy slurp.

you feel the snapping muscles in your tummy tense as his plump lips then munch against your sensitive clit.

“fuckin’ slut. walkin’ around with a cunt this soaked,” he grumbles in a muffled tone—savoring your sweet taste entirely. your stomach curls up as he’s feasting between your thighs, button tip of his nose occasionally swiping against your slobbering slit. the edges of sukuna’s serrated nails scrap down your skin gently, leaving a few noticeable marks. if it was anything the demon loved to do—it was to mark you, claim you as his. with red eyes meeting yours once more, he growls right against your pussy. “and don’t think about hidin’ those pretty moans from me this time. i wanna hear screams this time, brat.”

“f- fuck,” you whine. using a hand to grab onto the crown of his head, you comb a few fingers through his pink tresses—already feeling the weak pangs of pleasure surge through your thighs. by any second, you just knew your weak legs were gonna collapse. sukuna’s tongue was stupid, swirling everywhere inside of your pussy before his jaw starts to lock right away. “mmm, ‘kuna, spit on it.”

your cunt gets hit with an abrupt smack and you gasp, moaning from the abrupt twinge of throbs before you glance down at him.

“woman don’t tell me how to eat pussy,” he eyes you, voice full of curt. as he’s glaring at you the entire time—sukuna delves two fingers inside your sopping entrance though, scissoring his folds in your core just to watch you squirm. albeit, he does in fact spit on your pussy. it’s a stringy glossy wad, and the way it trails from his pink lips makes you convulse even quicker. sukuna’s eyes remain on you the entire time before he pulls his fingers out, slurping the new lustrous mess clean. “was gonna do that anyway, little girl.”

you almost giggle from his irritation before he playfully bites your clit — you whine, yanking his unkempt strands forward and he groans. “easy on the fuckin’ hair,” he murmurs, and as he pulls his head up a bit for air, you glance at the slick sheet of your own juices streaming down his chin. so pretty, it’s got its own kind of shine. to think that’s coming all from you, you were drenched.

“sorry,” you timidly utter, slumping back against the plump pillows. sukuna rolls his eyes at you in response, creating tender kisses against your soddened folds. with the way your thighs were trembling, it was adorable. you couldn’t stay still to save your life. he was sucking everything out of you, vacuuming all of your juices with just his mouth. the slurps were so lewd and loud that it bounced off the walls. “ohmygoddd.” you squeal, growing more whiny the harder his sucks become. sukuna’s pace of his tongue never falters and every few seconds, he spits against your pussy just to lap it right back up again.

the demon groans, staring at his mess he made. his own saliva pours down your slit and its pretty.

he drags a middle finger down, dipping it inside of your wet folds. the noises you made too were just carnal. sloshes of crying squelches reverberate through his royal chambers and he snickers. how pathetic, getting this soaked for someone like him. sukuna doesn’t care that his jaw tightens and locks. he groans, slowly trailing his tongue everywhere. he even guides it toward your puckering hole that’s drooling with slick too.

“can’t forget about her,” he groans, feeling himself get hard. sukuna most definitely had a boner, he had one every time he went down on you. “fuckin’ sloppy girl. ‘s exactly what you are,” and he moves his tongue back up toward your cunt before starting to tongue fuck you. you moan, still having a hand attached to his hair like it was velcro. “my sloppy girl though. ain’t that right?”

and before you were about to speak again, he spanks your cunt raw, spurts of your wetness slicking another glossy sheet onto his palm. sukuna’s eyes are at your pussy, barely even acknowledging your presence anymore. “keh. thought so. good girl.”

☆ NANAMI — “MY BODY ADDICTIVE IT’S DRIVIN’ HIM CRAZY.”

gentle fawn eyes ogle at you up and down as you’re prettily sprawled out on the bed. nanami can’t help but press a soft kiss onto your forehead as he’s slowly inserting himself inside.

“so perfect,” he murmurs, showering your skin with even more kisses. his lips were tender. you feel the prodding tip of his cock gradually disappear inside of your cunt before you exhale deeply. “mhm, always clamp around me so good. that’s it just relax. eyes on me, gorgeous.”

you look up at him and nanami’s face softens. teasingly, he tilts his head as he sees you biting your lip—making a cute attempt at trying to suppress any incoming moans. “hi, my love,” a gruffly sweet tone utters to you, softly gripping your chin. “there’s those pretty eyes i fell in love with.”

“k- kento,” you whimper, your back involuntarily starting to arch the further he pushes his dick inside. nanami groans, feeling himself being in brief shock by just how warm you were from the inside. whine after whine robs out of your throat before he’s trying to get you adjusted—he’s already starting to feel your slick treacle juices slabber down his lengthy base. it’s a squelching ‘pop’ once he’s finally in and his slender long fingers intertwine with yours. “fuck, kento.”

nanami shakes his head from each swear that comes from your lips. it’s cute. blond brows curl up together before he gently lifts up your leg, making it sling up over his tense right shoulder.

“my my, you’ve got quite the filthy mouth, honey,” and his words were as smooth as silk. as he’s making sure not to be too rough, his body continues to rut into you, respectfully pounding you into the creamy cottony sheets. a thumb of his curls against your bottom lip before he deepens his angle just a tad bit. “m- my love, oh,” and for a split second, nanami’s voice cracks. your cunt’s so good and drenched that he for one was practically speechless. nanami squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. he huffs out individual heavy pants from his full lungs before his hands roam all over your body. you were perfect, his fingers were hot and burning with parched heat - the same kind of heat that radiates against your skin. he’s hovering over your body, tenderly grinding his sharpened hips into you whilst his mushroom tip repeats to thrash against your throbbing clit.

nanami was always respectful when he fucks. missionary was forever his favorite because of the loving eye contact.

he’s stuffing you full of inches while staring right in your eyes, serenading you with a song of all the right compliments. you’d always throb, feeling that same mixture of glutinous slick trickle its way down your thighs. “kento don’t stop, please,” your arms throw around him, using a thumb to strum down his fading undercut. it’s soft, bristles of hair glide against your digit before the screeching squelches of your pussy abruptly snap you back to reality. as the bed wails and dips from the constant jerks and jarring movement - you start to grow dumb. his cock stretches right through you, curling its way into your walls while making its very mark. with the way your mouth was hanging open, he can’t help but silence your sweet forbidden moans with a kiss. “mmph.”

moans, now muffled get poured into his lips as his body continues to shift against you. he’s so warm that it’s almost a burning hot. nanami’s hands gingerly run down your skin, touching you everywhere just so he can feel you shiver from his contact. “i know, i know,” he whispers between sultry kisses, briefly sucking against your bottom lip. his balls were always swollen whenever it came to you. you whine, feeling a few strands of his hair tickle against your forehead—he’s so close. minty breath gets caught by your nostrils as your legs wrap themselves around his waist. “that’s it. jus’ let me love you, let your husband remind you how perfect you are, good girl.”

his words create a school of fluttering butterflies in your tummy. nanami can’t keep his hands off you, literally. he touches everywhere, nipping a few kisses at your skin as he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear. he’s purring against your nude flesh as you try to match his crazed pace. “kento, ‘m gonna cum. gonna cum, fuckk,” you suddenly babble out, shaking directly underneath him. you were so cute—his eyes soften as you’re stammering about your incoming release. plump soft lips press against your forehead as he’s still sweetly driving his hips into your walls. “please.”

by this point, both lips were departed from each other and he’s got two buff arms resting on opposite sides of your body. the smell of the air in the room was almost too strong. a mixturing scent of sweat and devoted bodies moving together in harmony. he groans into your neck, pressing a few more kisses at your skin. “c’mon, you can make a mess on me,” and he cups your face, witnessing right before his eyes as you’re about to approach your calamitous rapture. it’s like a wave but it’s crashing at full speed. you whine, collected breaths starting to pick up as the crown of his cock steadily thrashes around the shallow depths insides of your swollen cunt. nanami can feel your throbbing intensify and he starts to grow just a bit more relentless with his tempo. “make a mess, yeah. ‘s okay, your husband’s gonna clean you right up like always.”

nanami’s words were so sweet — he’s talking you through it whilst he’s got his hands cupping your face. strangled moans die from your throat before one tap of his cock against that spot was the final straw. your pussy constricts around his thickset base before you whimper. “f- fuuuuck,” a long moan leaves out of you as the build up pressure finally releases. his body lies flat against you as he’s gradually slowing down, whispering all sorts of praises against your ear in a shaky voice as you’re finally coming undone on his weighty shaft. your eyes widen before you bite into his neck, muffling your loud moans as you cream all the way down to his hilting base.

you’re speechless—and with your breath literally being taken away from you, your arms remain fragile, thrown over nanami’s shoulders. again, you’re met with the most kindest fawn eyes and he sheepishly smiles at you, sweat beads racing down the sides of his forehead. “such a good girl. even as a mess you’re still so p- perfect— fuck,”and he chokes up on his sentence, his voice suddenly turning raspy. your cunt grips him tight, never wanting to let go and he grits his teeth at the feeling. mousy dilated pupils flicker back until a flashing color of white could only be seen from his sockets. it was sexy, nanami loses himself for a moment before he slumps into your chest, hiccuping at how he came and sounded so so lewd—so pussy drunken all of a sudden. “oh, forgive me for my foul language m- my love. you really—made a mess out of me too it seems.”

☆ GETO — “THESE WINDOWS TINTED SO NOBODY SAW.”

“that’s my good girl,” geto leans back against the leather driver seat, occasionally using a palm to swat against your ass.

he’s smacking the right cheek specifically, featuring skin against skin sticking amongst each other from the perspiring sweat. he groans at the springy recoil your ass gives him every time before he gives your rear a squeeze. “fuckin’ ride it, yeah. slut this sloppy pussy all over me, sweetheart.”

“s- suguru,” you whine staring deep into his eyes. he’s so pretty, lazily slouched and reclined back with the most smuggest grin on his lips. the only sounds that could be heard in the parked vehicle was the sounds you, your sloppy cunt, and the loud bangs of raindrops that hit against his tinted windows. you continue to grind your hips into him before he spanks your ass again and again. “fuck, ‘s big. you’re always so fuckin’ big.”

“someone complaining?” he raises a brow, although you know he’s just teasing. like always, he’s watching as you struggle to keep up your pace. his fat cock was perfectly tugged into your walls and you felt like at any given moment, he’d split your pretty pussy open. “hm?” he opens his mouth tauntingly, the car’s entire build starting to jerk and judder from the powerful movements. a hand of his cups your chin before he rubs a thumb over your spit-glossed lips. “yeah, no back talk now huh, princess. less talkin’ more riding, uh huh.”

you wanted to roll your eyes but you couldn’t. he’s staring at you and eating up all of your dramatic facial expressions. the way your brows knead together and your lips part — that sweet sweet ‘o’ that forms from your mouth prying open, blissful whines tearing from your windpipe. he’s so thick, it’s almost unfair. the car continues to shake as your bouncing against his dick progresses at a more hurried speed. “s- shut up suguru.”

“ooh,” he hums, teasingly starting to bounce his thigh. even more friction, and both rows of your teeth clench together before you let off a sweet battle-crying moan. right there, his tip starts to smack and kiss up against a stretchy part that’s dug directly into your walls. you feel it and multiple hairs stand up near the nape of your neck. geto watches as your eyelids become droopy and you’re already so dick-drunk. it’s adorable, weak arms of yours toss themselves over his broad built shoulders and you feel a sudden quiver shockwave inside your thighs. “yeah, fuck me girl. don’t slow down. give it t’ me. shut me up with your pussy, how ‘bout that, huh.”

you give him a glare but geto only snickers, bringing another open palm toward your left ass cheek to spank it. you moan, your angered scrunched up muscles in your face relaxing before you whimper. “fuck, fuck,” and his turgid balls resume to pummel all through your gripping walls. there’s a candied taste in your mouth, the quicker you ride him—the more you taste it. it’s salty, bittersweet until your throat starts to leisurely grow dry. geto groans, sliding his foot away from the brake before he grabs ahold of your hips once more. “suguru, ‘m gettin’ close, fuck.”

“yeah, yeah,” he huffs, dark eyes glancing toward your chest — he observes the way your tits bounce, matching your rhythm by slamming you further down on his cock. it’s so cute, you were an entire mess. whilst you’re losing yourself on his dick, he pulls you close into him. “easy. baby. slow down a bit for me. ‘s not a rush, mhm,” and as his husky voice purrs into your ear, your cunt throbs. he even flicks his tongue against the shell of your ear just to hear you whimper louder. his cologne was loud, invading the entire space of the car. it was a mixture of burning leather and geto’s rich manly scent. it was no denying, he smelled so good that it was just intoxicating. obediently, you start to slow your hips crazed tempi to his liking and he sexily throws his head back - adam’s apple bobbing in response. “fuck, yeah. right there, jus’ like that. i gotcha. nice ‘n slow, good fuckin’ girl.”

the sounds of your sopping pussy only get louder before his teeth tenderly bite into your neck. you moan, feeling a balmy chill ghost near the hairs that run down your collarbone. he’s letting you fuck yourself stupid and it’s almost like you were floating. whining, you reach between your legs to feel your convulsing cunt. you’re close, so close.

“s- sugu,” you whimper, feeling that familiar sensation of heat swimming its way toward the lower pits of your stomach. “fuck, fuck.”

“cum with me baby,” he coos to you, guiding your hips with two big hands. your ears felt like they were constantly popping the more you rode him. he’s groaning from your sloppy rhythm and how good your ass thwacks and thwacks. against him. but just as he whispered those words—geto squints his eyes at his rear view mirror. with a hand still attached to your hips, he spots a luminescent light mixture of blue and red. he grows sheepish, realizing he probably shouldn’t have pulled over at this particular spot. .

as you’re still riding him, he grunts as he spots the officer steeping out. slouching back against the driver seat and running a hand through his darkened sable locks, he sighs.

“well shit.”

☆ CHOSO — “I GOT ‘EM ADDICTED HE FIENDIN’.”

“princess, y’know i don’t like when you run from me,” choso groans, reeling your hips back into him.

you gasp, hearing the slight rasp in his tone. his thick cock plummets through your walls and without the support of his hands, you’d have well collapse on the mattress. your limbs were already weak and flimsy enough as it was. he’s been fucking you for hours, nonstop. choso couldn’t get enough. “c’mere, don’t run from me.”

a tiny whine pours from your lips as you feel a few fingers of his curl around your neck. your back naturally arches and you bite your lip. “fuck, ‘cho,” you huff, the sharp smacks of your hips roughly hitting against his pelvis making him hiss. his favorite part. dark irises glance down toward your ass before he spanks you. one spank turns into one, then two, then three. the bed cries from the combining pounds of weight as he’s drilling into you, having the stamina equivalent to a stallion. “ohmygod, choso. right there baby, ngh.”

your lewd little moans alone were enough to get him off. arched thin brows tug together as he drags you back closer into him. he’s still got a hand wrapped around your throat before he pushes his hips further into you at full throttle.

“mhm, good girl. take it, fuckin’ take it,” and you can hear the hoarse in his tone pitching his delivery. your cunt’s weak ily squelching and squealing out all kinds of noises. you were soaked. choso’s droopy eyes continue to stare down your ass, spotting a few sweat droplets race down your spine. “so pretty. all mine, pussy’s all mine,” he grunts through gritted teeth, and your ass gets met with another smack. “c’mon, baby. gotta meet me halfway though. arch better, yeah?”

“s- sorry,” you sheepishly murmur, feeling another incoming moan try to choke its way out of your throat. he’s hitting you so deep, choso’s ravaging your walls and massaging them thoroughly. every part, every corner, every crevice. through and through—you straighten your arch before feeling his hips grind slower into you. with his pace, it’s almost hypnotic. “shit,” you whimper, trying to match his sudden changed rhythm. he’s fucking you slow but deep, tongue already starting to loll out. “choso, ‘m gonna cum.”

you hear a scoff before he leans further in, planting a wet kiss near your back. “nuh uh. not yet,” and with a piston of his hips, he lightly pushes your head into the silky sheets with a hand. “fuck, soakin’ me so good, princess. nasty girl,” he breathes, hearing your gurgled moans escape from your lips. your pussy was almost louder than you — a plethora of sloppy sounds sing out of your folds and he purposely grows quiet just to hear it. “heh, love when she does that. always got so much to say.”

“c- choso,” you squeak, shimmying your hips back into him. the dark-haired male can’t help but press two thumbs into your hips, feeling against the entire curvature - so pretty. you had his entire cock drenched with your gooey slick and he only wanted more. you’re pawing desperately at the satiny sheets to hang on as he’s continuing to jut his fat cock further into you. “ngh, cumming!”

choso holds your hips steadily in place—but he groans, feeling his swollen balls approach its peak at the same exact time. thick fingers of his pierce into your skin before abruptly, a geyser ripples right out your folds. you’re creaming all down his cock, gasping before he shortly follows. it’s runny, pumps and pumps of sweltering hot cum dribbles into your sobbing cunt. choso’s hair was shaggy, few black tresses of strands stick against his skin with the help of clingy sweat before he growls. “fuck . . me,” and his chiseled abs clench with his head throwing itself back. yet as he’s stuffing you full of load, his hips start up again and you let off a moan. “baby, can’t let it go to waste. keep up, need it. need you.”

you let off a moan, ruthlessly being pounded into the fat cushions of the mattress before unexpectedly—you hear a ear splitting crack. choso ignores it, still driving his hips deeply into your core before that’s right when the headboard falls with a blaring shatter. your eyes widen as you flinch at the now broken furniture—feeling the weight of the bed collapse inward. the bed breaks but chcoso’s entirely unfazed. “c- choso, the bed b- broke.”

“so?”

“s- so?” you moan, his blushing tip repeatedly kissing up against your swollen sweetest spots. “the bed’s broken—”

“baby, ‘s okay,” a low voice murmurs, watching with blown pupils as your slick coats an entire translucent colored ring around his hefty base. choso groans, licking his lips before slowly pulling out, only to plug his weeping spilling cum right back into your cunt.

“don’t worry about the bed. gonna break your pussy next, anyway, heh.”

[seasidefallenangel]

being fixated to you — that is the problem

they're so in love with you, but you just don't seem to get it ft. riddle rosehearts, jamil viper

notes: fluff, reader can't read between the lines, was playing amnesia and shin's whole "wanting to be seen as more than a little brother" thing... mhhhm

༄ riddle rosehearts:

napkins perfectly folded, pink flamingos elegantly roaming the lawn, hours spent practicing a tart recipe that you were sure to praise riddle for -

… instead replaced with you cooing at him like he’s some child.

“you’re so cute, rids!” you grin while pinching his cheek. if you were less close with him, you’d assume the cherry red of his face was from anger and not pure embarrassment. 

quite frankly, he’s at a loss. it couldn’t be more obvious that he loves you to the point of it hurting his chest. every attempt and compliment he gives you, earnest confessions of attraction, are simply met with laughs and something along the lines of him being, “like a cute, younger brother.”

it was mortifying.

setting his teacup on its plate, he grips the handle just a bit too tightly as his head hangs down. you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he mutters, “... is that really all you see me as?”

his hands slam on the arms of your chair and he leans in, eyes intense and expression deadly serious. it’s not as if riddle is a generally goofy person, but the sudden shift from your casual meet-up is a bit jarring.

“why do you refuse to take me seriously? am i not enough of a man for you?” he asks with desperation in his voice.

you’re taken aback at how earnestly he says it. there’s no hesitation nor even a hint of dishonesty in his words. such a blunt confession style isn’t really within his personality, but sevens is he tired of giving hints and pseudo-admissions of his unwavering devotion to you. 

“would you consider, even just once, that i truly have an interest in you?” he says, leaning in so close you would think he’s about to kiss you. he’d never do such a thing without explicit consent from you, but the thought of it is exhilarating. 

testing the waters, you offer him a teasing grin in response, boldly stating, “will you kiss me if i do?”

he freezes at your words, the severity of the situation sinking in - realizing just how much he’s invading your personal space. his typical red face is now a much softer shade of pink ; cuter, even. 

as the full weight of his actions invades every section of his brain, he opts to just mumble, “... maybe later,” before sitting back down and stewing in his own humiliation.

༄ jamil viper:

“you’re making a mess,” jamil chides you lightly, tenderly swiping a napkin across your cheek to clean the remnants of the dolma he made you for dinner. it was rare for scarabia’s dining hall to be deserted so early in the night, but you were grateful for a more peaceful setting than usual. (he told the entire dorm he’ll stick laxatives in every meal for the next month if a single one of them bothered you both tonight. none of them wanted to find out if he meant it.)

jamil’s eyes are trained on you while you lift the fork for another bite and a sigh follows him as more of the glaze drips down your mouth. he presses the napkin to you once more and quietly admonishes, “where would you be without me?”

you swallow and playfully poke his nose while responding, “lost, probably. you’re like a reliable baby brother, y’know?”

the smile on his face drops in an instant and he clenches his teeth, shutting his eyes for a few moments. the reaction is so unexpected that you’re unsure of how to even follow up until he speaks. “you’re an absolute fool.”

he slowly stands, placing his hands on the table with you in between them. his legs slot against your own and you can feel the wood from the table’s edge pressing into your back, but the pain doesn’t register as he gets closer to you.

“between you and kalim,” he says while holding your jaw between his thumb and pointer finger, “i must have a penchant for attracting idiots to my side. do you honestly think all of this was done simply in good faith and nothing else?”

to his credit, he has a point. jamil isn’t exactly a selfless person (not by choice, anyway) but he’s not easy to read either. if there was some kind of hidden intent, you sure as hell weren’t gonna find it.

“humor me for a moment,” comes his low voice while his forehead rests against yours. “if that’s all i’ll ever be to you, if you’ll never give me the grace of being viewed as a true suitor for your hand, then tell me now so i can stop wasting my time on inevitable failure.”

a proper answer evades you completely. jamil has never struck you as someone with romantic interest in anything, nevermind you specifically  — but that doesn’t mean you’re against being in a relationship with him.

“what if i do see you in that way, then?” you ask with a growing grin, curious to see how far this adrenaline rush will take him. 

when his lips eagerly descend onto yours, his thumb moving to press against the junction of your throat, you find out how tough it is to swallow your own words.

[sacrificiallane]

FRATBOY .ᐟ LUKE ( let 'em hear )

warning ! MDNI. p in v. cussing , headlock ? , some sort of exhibitionism ? ( luke wants everyone to hear ) mean!Luke being mean to not only you. short.

notes ! this was requested. kinda. i literally have no idea about frats, my knowledge comes from fics and ... reading icebreaker. i never ever proofread, so uh

"shh... just take it, yeah just take it..." and taking it you were ! like a pro, back arched into the possibly most uncomfortable position, folded over a pillow and your pretty face pressed into another. if you were disagreeing, Luke couldn't hear. the sound of his skin slapping against your own was enough to drown out anything that wasn't your helpless babbling into the sheets. "take it."

Luke was pent-up, really ! days on end, the other frats been getting on his nerves. whether it was the mess that was their frat house ( because none of the idiots seemed capable enough to follow a rather simple cleaning plan ) or — even worse ! — nights spent unable to find sleep, because most of the newer, younger ones were screaming into their headsets rather than finding sleep themselves. yeah, Luke was just so done.

and sure, talking about it might have been an easier option. i mean, most of the boys naturally respected Luke. because of his headstrong and guiding personality. a trait he most likely gained from his shitty father...

but talking was boring ! yeah, talking certainly didn't bring across how respectless it actually was to practically force someone to listen to something they did not want nor need to hear.

and by the time his sweet, darling girlfriend came around, he all but dragged you into his room, slamming the door behind him with purpose.

and slamming inside of you with purpose, too.

"fuuuck" the warmth of your cunt was familiar enough to take some of his edge off. but certainly not all. Luke was still fuming when his hips practically forced your own flush against his, slipping impossibly deeper until he was sure his tip was hitting that little spongy part inside of you that had you make this specific little, sharp noise.

and before you could even form any protesting words ( which he knew you would have, if your brain hadn't turned to complete mush ) your boyfriend pressed into that spot again, and again. there was a purpose behind his quick thrusting, like he was trying to milk that spot for all it was worth...

one of his big beefy arms curled around your neck then, his biceps the only place to put your nails when he tugged you flush to his chest. the skin sticking together instantly... feeling hot and sticky on your flesh, and making you keen loudly in pleasure. the new angle made it impossible to wiggle away from his relentless poking at your cervix ( or at least that's how deep he felt ! )

"fuck, thas' it," your boyfriend ― normally limited to simple groans and stifled moans whenever you'd get it at his frat home ― was now giving you way more than you could ever ask him for. what was normally reserved for your dorm only ( just because the walls were a little thicker than the ones inside the frat house ) seemed pushed to the back of his wonderful mind, when Luke was giving you a variety of sounds that matched with his pace. furthermore, the fingers that would keep you quiet by being stuffed ( more like forced ! ) between your plush lips, were now coaxing even louder noises out of you too, by rubbing you silly to the rhythm of his thrusts.

he wanted this to be heard.

and only by the time he's sure that the whole house has finally ( finally !! ) quieted down, does he allow you to fall apart...

god's know he deserves a good night's sleep. ♡

[cinnamongrl2006]

Ok since we have college! Jason, mayhaps a professor Bruce? Who sees you walking home in the rain and gives you a ride back to your dorm but he takes the ✨scenic✨ route if you know what I mean lmao

౨ৎ Professor!Bruce Wayne x female student!reader ౨ৎ mdni (18+)

౨ৎ Warnings: Legal age gap, power imbalance, vaginal sex, unprotected sex.

౨ৎ a/n: I will never stop writing for Bale Bruce Wayne, he's the love of my life, man of my dreams, I'm insane for him. I obviously don't condone this kind of relationship, but all I write is fiction and I find it reallyyy attractive in fiction, SUE ME!! also, creds to my divas @ditzydoe444 and @ellesthots because their professor!Bruce fics are TO DIE FOR!!

You hadn't expected it to rain so much that afternoon; that's why you had forgone the idea of bringing an umbrella in your bag, it would only add weight to your already heavy backpack, and you'd spend most of your time in the library anyways.

You began to regret your decision when you exited the library and the cold water began to patter against your head and shoulders, soaking through your clothes. Your damp shirt was stuck to your chest uncomfortably, your shoulders shook with shivers. You really should have brought an umbrella, or at least a jacket.

You were cursing yourself on your walk back to the dorms when he saw you. Bruce was in his car, another late night after a long meeting with the dean. He registered your presence quickly, it was raining heavily and there wasn’t a soul in the street—there shouldn’t have been, much less a young woman like you, so cluelessly strolling alone at night, so he did what he thought necessary, he rolled down the window and called out your name.

“Mr. Wayne?” You looked at him with wide eyes, the surprise and embarrassment were evident in your soft features. God you were so unlucky, the day you go out thinking that nobody will see you you cross paths with the hottest professor in the entire college—just your luck.

“You look like you need a lift,” He smirked, poking his head out the window, and slowed the car down to a stop.

────୨ৎ────

The car ride was quiet at first, only the low hum and static of the radio on a rainy night broke through the silence. You had your bag in your lap, clutching it close to you for dear life.

Bruce wanted nothing more than to chuck the bag into the backseat and get his way with you, he felt like an asshole but the way your top was clinging to your chest was making his brain go haywire and his cock fatten up in his slacks.

“You can leave the bag in the backseat, more comfortable that way,” He spoke as if he knew better, as if that was the right thing to do; patronizing and authoritative.

You did as he said and threw the bag into the backseat, folding your hands in your now empty lap, awkwardly. The tension between you two could have been cut with a knife, the silence heavy and loud.

Bruce stretched out a hand to move something on the center console and instead of moving it back to the wheel, he placed it on your thigh, squeezing it softly. It was a declaration of intentions, he was giving you a way out.

"You shouldn't be walking alone so late, more so when it's raining." He sounded truly worried as he caressed the soft, damp, skin of your thigh.

"Lucky you were here, then." You spread your legs further, urging him to go higher, and he followed suit. His fingers danced along the seams of your panties, not quite hovering, not quite touching.

The bumps on the road were the only thing forcing contact between him and you, and they were few and far between. You were beginning to get desperate, your breaths were coming out whiny and shaky, your hips stuttered against his thick fingers.

And Bruce was just a man, his self control had been thrown out the window the moment he’d seen you walking back to your dorm drenched and shivering all alone. You were so helpless, huffing and puffing, feet dragging across the pavement, shirt drenched in water and sticking to your chest so deliciously; he had to help you, poor little girl, who didn’t even think to bring an umbrella.

The louder your whines got, the faster he drove; he moved through the back roads with expertise, not even wavering with the rain, his hands steady.

────୨ৎ────

You were sprawled across the backseat, your bag on the floor of the car, as Bruce pounded you mercilessly. He held your thighs apart as he thrusted in. A creamy white ring sat at the base of his cock from your previous orgasm

He didn't know what had gotten into him; he was usually so professional, never would have even glanced at a student before he met you. Maybe it was because of the way you looked at him, your gaze intense and unwavering, never missing one of his classes. Maybe it was because of the way you spoke to him during tutoring hours, your voice soft yet confident, drawing him in. Or perhaps it was the subtle way you brushed your leg against his when you sat side by side.

He was grown, after all; he was not stupid. He noticed how your eyes drifted down to his chest when he rolled his shoulders, or how they lingered on his arms when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the toned muscles underneath. It made his heart race.

"That feel good, sweetheart?" He breathed out.

You knew if you tried to speak the words would not come out so, with your hands pawing and tugging at his shirt— all wrinkled and rumpled now, thanks to your relentless movements— you just nodded your head, staring at him with wide, glassy, eyes and an open mouth, letting out little whines and moans at the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Come on, you're a smart girl, my top student; you can use your words, can't you?" There it was again, the sweet voice, the patronizing tone.

"Yes. Feels good, sir." You managed to breathe out.

"Call me Bruce, let's leave the titles for the classroom, huh?"

You nodded, eyes meeting his hungry gaze. Bruce's cock twitched at the sight of your dazed smile, half lidded eyes, pupils blown wide and your cheeks flushed that pretty shade of pink you got when you made eye contact in class.

"mhm, Bruce," You whined, your hips stuttered up, back arching when he angled your hips to get slightly deeper. You could feel the slight burn from the way he was stretching you out, the spur of pain when the tip of his cock hit your cervix repeatedly, but all of that was kept in the back of your mind, as he kissed your lips and cooed at you.

"So pretty...you're a beautiful girl, you know that? Smart too," He spoke between kisses, his voice was hoarse, breathy.

Bruce didn't moan, but he grunted a lot, to punctuate his words when he spoke, or after a particularly deep thrust.

"So tight, baby. Just relax, I've got you." He spoke into your neck as his thrusts got messier, harder. The squelching and clapping of your thighs against his got louder, and so did your moans. You came almost instantly, leaning your head back against the car window, his hands held your waist, keeping you in place as he fucked his thick cock into you. He came shortly after you, with a hard thrust and a grunt.

After a moment of shared silence, the sound of the rain drumming against the car filled the space between you. You both caught your breath, the lingering warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. Bruce rested his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight.

"We should talk about this before Monday," He spoke as he caught his breath.

“Yeah, or it’ll be super awkward in class,” you replied, a light laugh escaping you. Bruce chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he tried to regain his composure.

“Well, we can just keep it professional, right?” he suggested, looking at you with a hint of amusement. 

────୨ৎ────

@lalitalux

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

There’s a Beta standing in Eddie’s doorway. She’s slim, choppy ginger hair and red boots poking out from under the cuffs of her denim dungarees – Eddie likes her pretty much immediately.

She’s holding a plate.

She hasn’t managed to speak yet, but from down the hall, Eddie hears a voice hiss, “Robin!”

They both turn to look. The Omega of Eddie’s dreams face and...tummy...are both poking out of the doorway. He looks mortified.

“So sorry,” the Beta starts, “Steve was too embarrassed to come and ask a second time, but he’s basically had his nose pressed to the door for the past half an hour so…” she holds out the plate.

From down the hall, very faintly, the Omega, who Eddie now knows must be called ‘Steve,’ whines, “why are you like this,” and then clicks the door shut.

“I’m Robin, by the way,” and she holds out her non plate hand to shake.

Eddie ends up shaking one hand and taking the plate from the other. Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve must have a partner, but he still has to squish the disappointment of meeting them. “Eddie...just, give me a second. It’s chicken parm.”

Eddie goes and dishes up a portion, it was going to be tomorrows lunch but...he can’t deny the pretty little Omega anything. Maybe he should start cooking extra extras, even if Steve doesn’t come knocking, at least it’s a meal he can have another time.

“This is one of his favorites, no wonder he was so restless about it.”

“Yeah, well, anytime,” and Eddie could add that Robin should be making Steve’s favorites, but he doesn’t because he’s pretty sure Robin is cool and he already knows Steve is sweet and he’s just not that kind of person.

Much.

“I’m sorry, you’ve done what to the pulled pork?”

“Orange and Oregano, trust me Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind.”

“Uh hu, and someone else's by the look of it, you’ve cooked enough for us and that Omega guy twice over.” Eddie just rolls his eyes. “You got all your shit put away then?”

“Pretty much, and leave that alone.”

Dustin huffs but puts the spoon down and replaces the lid on the crock pot, “what are we having with it?”

“Was going to do dirty fries.”

“Oh my god. You’re a saint. A hero. You should be knighted like ye olde dragon-slayers of yore-”

“Yeah yeah, this will not score you any extra loot later.”

“Mayhap a smidgen of exper-” Dustin stops at the sound of knocking, looking to the door. “Is it your Omega?” He whisper hisses at Eddie.

“He’s not mine, he’s got a girlfriend,” Eddie whisper hisses back.

Doesn’t stop him pulling his shirt straight and tugging at his jeans and fluffing his hair real quick on the way to the door. All of that is kind of...reflexive, though.

Dustin’s smirk is actually slap worthy, and Eddie will get to that right after he answers the door.

“I am so sorry about this,” Steve is saying before Eddie even has the door fully open, “and I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I thought I could at least contribute.” He’s holding two plates, one empty, one stacked up with cookies, “they’re Reese’s.”

And Eddie’s mouth is watering, not just from the scent of Steve, but because he can see the chunks of partially melted Reese's pieces sticking out of the cookies, “they look incredible, thank you,” Eddie takes both plates, “it’s not actually ready yet, can I drop it by in like, thirty minutes?”

“Oh you are my hero,” Steve beams at him. It’s a happy smile, a smile that comes with the scent of pleased Omega. Happy Omega. Happy Omega with pup. The kind of smile and scent that digs it’s hooks deep into Eddie’s brain and fucking yanks.

“It’s pulled pork, would you rather fries or rice?” Eddie finds himself asking, completely on auto pilot.

“Whatever is easiest. Whatever you were already planning. Thank you so so much Eddie.”

Eddie watches Steve waddle back to his apartment down the hall before he turns, a plate in each hand, and nudges the door closed with his foot.

“Thank you so much Eddie. I made you cookies Eddie,” Dustin simpers from the couch, before making kissey noises.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Eddie stands in the hallway in his crocs. His apartment is new, so he has a strict no shoes policy; but he has a pair of crocs for in the hall and heading outside real quick. Also, they're comfortable as fuck, so Eddie refuses to be judged.

Especially since they’re black, and Dustin got him all these little button things that pop in the holes. Little swords and shields and D20’s and stuff. So they’re super cool.

Steve opens the door, wincing, one hand resting on the small of his back, but his face blooms back into the beautiful smile at the sight of Eddie. It does something, very briefly, to Eddie. That reaction. And then he viciously reminds himself that the reaction was for Eddie’s food and not at all for Eddie himself.

Steve goes to take the plate but, “it’s hot, I warmed the plate up in the stove, let me put it down somewhere for you?” A trick Eddie learned in his month of working in a kitchen one Christmas when he was a teenager, but it never left him, and he didn't want Steve’s dinner to go cold.

“Oh, gosh, you’re so thoughtful Eddie, come right in.”

Eddie’s heart gives a little flutter at Steve’s praise, and Steve shifts out of the way, letting Eddie into an apartment that’s a mirror of his own. It’s very neat and tidy inside; everything very clearly has a place. Nothing looks brand new, but everything does look well cared for.

Steve directs Eddie to the little two seater dining table, where there’s a place set. It’s so freaking adorable, a place mat with flowers and kittens printed on it, a white folded napkin, cutlery and a glass of juice set out. A single daffodil in a tiny vase.

Eddie puts the plate down carefully, turning to see Steve blushing furiously. “Sorry, I don’t get out much and I wanted to make it nice.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute,” Eddie says, even as he feels himself grow irritated yet again with Robin, Steve’s nose twitches, eyeing Eddie with concern, so he does his best to push it down, “well,” Eddie tries his best to be cheerful, “I really hope you enjoy it. Maybe your girlfriend will take you out tomorrow?” He tries to say that with no hint of spite whatsoever.

Steve blinks at him, “girlfriend?”

“Robin? I thought...aren’t you two..?”

Steve snorts a laugh, actually ugly laughs and snorts like a cute little piggy and has to bring his hand up to his face to try and hide his reaction, “no. No, she’s my best friend. She’s home with her girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Eddie says, processing, “oh. Right sorry, I just, assumed…” he can’t stop his eyes from, briefly, flicking to Steve’s tummy.

“It’s okay,” Steve’s smiling at him, “you can ask.”

“Well...I mean when I thought you were with Robin I just assumed you’d used a donor or…”

“Yep!” Steve pops the ‘P’. “I did do that, and I did go to the appointments with Robin, but I’m single. Going it alone.”

And then Steve does quite possibly the sexiest thing Eddie’s ever seen in his entire life; he bares his throat, “see, no bite.”

Eddie has to clear his throat and shift a little where he's standing, lest his inconvenient biological reaction become overly obvious, “why did you decide to, uhm…”

Steve shrugs, smiling happily, “guess I just never was lucky enough to meet the right Alpha.”

And then Steve’s tummy rumbles very aggressively.

“I’ll let you eat your-”

“Gosh excuse me I’m-”

They speak at the same time, and then both end up laughing.

“I’ll leave you to your dinner,”

“Thanks again Eddie, I really do appreciate it.”

Part three

[boricuasirena25]

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader

ellie sat hunched over her lunch tray, poking at her soggy curly fries with a spork that had seen better days. her glasses were already sliding down her nose, but she didn’t care—her green eyes were glued across the room.

you were sitting with your boyfriend.

your boyfriend, who had the personality of a ‘home depot bucket’.

your boyfriend, who just smacked your ass in front of the whole table.

ellie’s pen shook in her grip as she kept doodling, her sketchbook open between her tray and a half-empty dr pepper. the drawing? you.

you in a ballgown, tits perky and glowing, eyes soft, tied to a tower.

ellie was the knight, naturally. messy armor, converse still drawn on, sword raised. saving you from sir adrian the d*ckhead.

“ellie,” dina said softly, sipping her chocolate milk like it was wine, “please tell me that’s not her again.” jesse leaned over and glanced down. “is… is that her boobs again?”

“she drew the lace detail,” dina whispered, slightly horrified. “ellie.”

ellie’s ears turned red. “i—i’m just… practicing anatomy.”

“that’s the fifteenth ‘anatomy’ sketch this week,” jesse muttered. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

“she’s wearing that bra today,” ellie said under her breath, dreamily. “the pink one. the push-up. victoria’s secret. i know the straps.”

dina choked. “you memorized her bras?!”

“i don’t need to look. i see them when i close my eyes,” ellie whispered, then slowly blinked, biting her lip. “f*ck, i’m gonna nut right here.”

jesse looked away. “this is concerning.”. dina leaned in, serious now. “ellie. she is never gonna want you. babe… she’s dating adrian. she told you to stop calling her mamacita.”

“she doesn’t hate me,” ellie muttered, defensive. “she just doesn’t know me yet.”

“you said she told you to ‘stop breathing near her,’” jesse pointed out.

ellie went quiet. still staring. you were giggling at something your boyfriend said. your gloss was shining. your boobs were… goodness. ellie had to adjust her hoodie.

and then—she saw it.

adrian… was looking at another girl’s ass. right in front of you.

and not even subtly. full turn. smirk. a wink.

you didn’t see it. but ellie did.

she felt something in her chest snap.

“…f*ck it,” ellie said suddenly, slamming her sketchbook shut. “i can’t.”

dina blinked. “ellie—what are you doing?”

“she’s not staying with that meathead. not while i’m here. i swear to God.”

jesse watched her stand. “bro. please don’t.”

ellie was already halfway to your table, glasses sliding, spider-man boxers probably damp, confidence nonexistent—but the delusion?

unbreakable.

you looked up just as she approached.

she stopped right at your table. her voice cracked a little. “h- hey… can I talk to you?”

you looked up slowly, straw still between your glossed lips, sipping your strawberry milk just like the princess you are in her sketches. your lashes fluttered, eyes big and bored.

“…you wanna talk to me?” you said, raising a brow. “about what?”

ellie’s heart thudded so hard she swore everyone could hear it. her hands were jammed in the front pocket of her hoodie, sketchbook awkwardly stuffed in the back of her jeans, peeking out like a secret.

“i- uh—” she cleared her throat. “i just— i had something to say.”

adrian, your muscle-brained boyfriend, didn’t even wait. he leaned forward, smirking with some BBQ sauce on his thumb. “yo, is this the girl who wrote you that weird poem in homeroom?”

you blinked. “what poem?”

ellie turned the color of a stop sign. “i didn’t— that wasn’t—it wasn’t weird—”

“she’s the band girl, right?” adrian laughed. “what was it again—something about your ’glossed lips guiding her sword’?”

“it was a metaphor!” ellie snapped, voice cracking again.

you looked her up and down. glasses slipping. hoodie wrinkled. fingers twitching. you caught the sketchbook spine sticking out her back pocket, and your brain flickered—was that glittery gel pen on the edge?

adrian scoffed. “nah, baby, don’t waste your time. this girl’s clearly obsessed.”

“i’m not obsessed,” ellie mumbled. “i just… admire her. from afar. and sometimes from slightly less afar. but not in a creepy way.”

you blinked slowly. “slightly less afar?”

ellie swallowed hard. she could barely look at you. your push-up bra was peeking out beneath your VS pink zip up, your boobs right there and glowing under the fluorescent cafeteria light like the holy grail.

“i just think you’re, like… really smart,” ellie blurted.

you squinted. “smart?”

“yeah,” she nodded fast, flustered. “like, not just hot. you’re smart-hot. your notes in AP Bio are color-coded and your handwriting’s, like, freakishly neat. i saw it once and cried a little.”

adrian burst out laughing. “yo, this b*tch is wild.”

you ignored him. still staring at ellie. “you… cried?”

ellie pushed her glasses up. “i also drew you in medieval armor once. you were holding a staff made of lip gloss and the souls of men who hurt you. your bra was historically inaccurate but, like, it made sense narratively.”

adrian stood up now. “alright, you’re done—”

“no,” you said suddenly, sharp. “she’s not.”

adrian turned, stunned. you looked back at ellie, tilting your head.

“what was i holding again?” you asked.

ellie froze. “uh. a staff. made of—of fenty gloss and vengeance.”

you smiled. real smile. not sarcastic, not mocking. you leaned in just a little, lashes fluttering.

“and what were you wearing?”

ellie nearly passed out. “…spidey armor. i think. it had boob padding for—well. i didn’t want to be historically inaccurate either.”

you giggled. adorable, deadly. the sound of lesbo nerd death.

ellie stood frozen. your eyes sparkled. you didn’t say anything else—you just slowly turned back to your fries like it was nothing. ellie didn’t know if she’d just won or if you were about to file a restraining order.

dina and jesse were in the back mouthing WHAT THE F*CK.

but ellie? ellie walked back to her seat with her chest puffed slightly and her spider-man boxers clinging just a little wetter to her.

[simonsrileyhusband]

nsfw-ish (at the end) (reader is kind off a loser lol)

older brothers bestfriend simon who comes around often. movie nights, sleep overs, watching football, playing videogames, waiting for johnny to get ready for that party. he is always there.

simon who always bothers you all the time, stealing your snacks, throwing his heavy legs on top of yours while watching tv, stealing the blanket while the 3 of you watch a movie, ruffling your hair, punching your arms and stomach (gently but hard enough to bother you), poking your sides and calling you grumpy for having the slightest reaction to everything he does.

simon who SWEARS for everything that is dear to him that he doesn't have a crush on you, 'what? yer brother, are you mental? that dude can't pull even if his live depends on it' he laughs akwardly, but johnny believes him, because yeah, you can't pull anyone, he was the better looking brother... at least that's what he believes

simon who shoves down his crush and obsession for you until one night, on the kitchen while he steals your snacks he sees you, more dressed up than usual

"where you going?"

"mhm?"

"where you going?" he repeats, leaning on the counter, his gaze firm as he analizes your clothes

"party"

PARTY?! you... maybe he is going crazy or slipped the thin fabric of reality and is now in another universe

"you? don't joke like that, i almost laughed?"

"no, it's true, i'm going with my friends"

simon who sits you down and explains to you that you shouldn't drink too much, always stick with your friends and bla, bla, bla... and you shouldn't go home with anyone, not even kiss anyone

"why can't i kiss anyone?"

"because... you don't know how to do it" he LIES, it's because he would rather shot himself that know that you kissed someone, let alone your first kiss being with some random drunk guy and not HIM

and after some silly argument about how it can't possibly be that hard to kiss someone and simon insisting it is and you can't do it a "i'll teach you" slips out of his mouth

"no, don't do that, are you crazy?" he whispers as you straddle his lap, his brain short circuits, his lips red from """practicing"""

simon who tries to think of pure thoughts as his hands squeeze your sides, and damn, you were right, kissing wasn't difficult for you

[rosenclaws]

A little Jealous || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: After your date with Logan you notice he hasn't been around as much. Then you see something that makes you spiral just a little.

warnings: jealousy, slight angst, fluffy ending, both of them being idiots low key.

a/n: So this is the idea born from my dream where I got mad at Logan LOL. The jealousy fueled this fic but it ends much happier here.

wc: 1.4k

Kitty and Marie

There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this right? Jumping to conclusions isn't a good idea and you know that it'll just hurt you in the long run. But as you see Logan laughing and smiling with a woman you don't recognize, it's hard for your brain to go anywhere else but down.

He looks so happy, so at ease. They're eating ice cream at that stupid ice cream shop he swore he'd take you to one day. Was he done with you? Decided after a date that he wasn't really interested?

The date you had with Logan was amazing. You wore the blue sundress he told you to and he showed up with flowers and a button up shirt. He was nothing but a gentleman. He took you to dinner and you kissed his cheek after he dropped you off. You thought it was perfect, but maybe Logan didn't think the same.

He had been...not avoiding you but he wasn't around as much. He still said hi to Marie in the halls and would come over a tea party but when it was just the two of you there was this odd tension that just wouldn't break. Unsaid words and longing looks. You're too afraid to make a move and you guess he just, got tired of you.

"Kitty!" Marie points at Logan. She wiggles her little hand out of your grip and takes off right towards Logan.

"Marie wait!" You call as you chase after her. Logan's attention snaps towards Marie as he hears her voice. He stands up and grabs her, hoisting her up into his arms.

"Woah kid hold your horses." Logan says and Marie giggles.

"I missed you Kitty." She says with a pout. It had been a while since Logan had been over and even she noticed.

"I know kid I'm sorry." He apologizes. You reach the two of them and feel Logan's eyes settle on you.

"Honey you cannot run away from me like that!" You scold lightly. You take her from Logan's arms, barely even looking at him. You don't see the way he frowns when you ignore him.

"I'm sorry mommy." She says and you kiss her cheek.

"Sorry for interrupting." You apologize, looking between the two of them. You glance down at his date and she's not so subtly sending you a death glare but when Logan looks back at her she smiles.

"Who's this cute little thing." She coos at Marie who narrows her little eyes at the stranger.

"I'm Marie and this is my mommy and Kitty."

"Kitty?" The woman looks towards Logan and raises an eyebrow. He just shrugs, smiling as he looks at the two of you.

"Cute." Her voice is sweet but the sharpness pokes through. Clearly she is uninterested in letting the two of you crash their little moment.

"Well we should get going..." You say awkwardly, begging for any excuse to get away from the two of them.

"No no stay, please." Logan grabs your arm gently and you slowly meet his eyes. Fuck he's still handsome.

"Logan I think they're busy, we should let them go. I'm sure miss Marie and her mommy are just fine on their own." His date chimes in. You clench your jaw at her tone.

"It was just a pleasure meeting you." You say sarcastically. Call it petty but you do enjoy the way she narrows her eyes at you, as if she's sizing you up as competition. Please, you have more important things to care about than her.

"Bye Logan." You say shortly, leaving him completely confused as you walk away with Marie without another word.

You hear a gasp come from behind you and look to see Marie sticking her tongue out. You should tell her that it's rude but instead you think you'll buy her a cookie later.

Logan shouldn't be taking up your brain as much as he does. Your whole day was spent trying to forget him. You were jealous and you hated that you were. The two of you weren't exclusive, he had every right to go out with someone else. But you think he'd have the decency to tell you.

The more you think about it the angrier you get, not for yourself but for Marie. He had come in and became a part of your lives so quickly and now you have to explain that he won't be anymore. You can't bring yourself to say it yet as Marie was still utterly in love with Logan.

A knock at your door and the soft call of your name makes you groan. You open the door to see Logan waiting.

"What do you want Logan? Marie is asleep for the day." You say flatly. Logan almost flinches at how cold you sounded.

"I wanted to see you. If that's okay." He says gently.

"Uh sure," You stand to the side and let him in.

"How was your date?" You ask, cringing inside just a little bit but the jealousy growing inside of you makes you do stupid things.

"Date?" He asks confused. "What date?"

"You know. Ice cream with that pretty woman." You say with a huff. Logan tilts his head like a puppy and you guilt starts to grow inside of you.

"That wasn't a date." He says firmly.

"Look Logan," You sigh as you lean against your door. You start to close in on yourself, crossing your arms to make yourself smaller.

"It's okay. We aren't...anything and if you want to go out on a date then go for it." You're trying to be the nice one but it's not easy. But this isn't for you, this is for Marie.

"Marie still loves you though and if you aren't going to be around much anymore that's fine but you have to tell her because I can't break her heart like that okay?"

"Woah woah hold on sweetheart, slow down." Logan grabs your arms gently. Trying to get you to stop talking so he can explain himself. He hates the way your eyes tear up and the way your voice sounds so small.

"That woman was a friend of Vanessa's. She's new in town and so am I so Wade thought it would be a good idea for me to show her around I guess. It was not a date, no fucking way." He explains. Deep down he thinks Wade was getting sick of his shit. Someone he's responsible for this he just doesn't know how yet.

"Well she certainly thought it was." You mumble as you stare at the ground. Logan tilts your chin up and frowns.

"Tough shit for her then because the only one I have my eye on is you."

"Then why have you been avoiding me since our date?" You ask.

"Because...I got nervous. I'm not the best with expressing how I feel and-" Logan cuts off, unsure of how to explain it all. He doesn't know the right words to express just how he feels but he tries.

"I like you a lot and it scares the hell out of me." He mumbles, his thumb running over your lips gently.

"I like you too Logan. This is scary. Letting someone new into our lives knowing you could break both our hearts so easy is terrifying. But I think you're worth it." If Logan ever walks away it will crush you and Marie but fuck you want Logan to stay so bad. You want him to be apart of your lives forever and you hope he feels the same.

"I'm not worth much sweetheart." He tells you.

"But I'll try to be the man you both deserve."

"Oh shut up, you already are." You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He tastes just like you imagined. His lips are a little rough but you don't care. His hands go to your waist, pushing you into the door as he groans into the kiss.

"Oh Logan..." You moan quietly as his lips move to your neck. Your heart racing as he nips at the sweet spot under your jaw.

"I ever tell you that you're cute when you're jealous?" He purrs.

"I wasn't jealous." You say weakly and he just laughs.

"Sure you weren't sweetheart." He hums, a cocky look in his eye as he pulls back. His hands still wrapped around your waist as he kisses you again.

"You did take her to the place you promised you take me." You argue back.

"I'll take you to a better spot, that place was shit anyways they had too many weird flavors." He complains.

"I bet you like Vanilla old man, or if you're feeling frisky you'll get chocolate." You joke. He rolls his eyes and squeezes your side making you yelp.

"Yeah yeah just kiss me again."

[amphibiahawks321]

How about some Mel from the gaslight district X M reader ?

[Ken standing In front of Mel and Y/N, Mouth completely agape–Meanwhile Mel is fidgeting her fingers while Y/N is seen behind her holding onto both her shoulder in fear]

Ken : .....

𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙃𝘼𝘼𝘼𝙏 ?!!

[Meanwhile, Mud and Breadhead in the other room]

Mud : ...What the hell was that?

Breadhead : Sounded like the boss!

[Moments later, Mud kicked open the door]

Mud : Oi ken! If you keep this up we might as well give you're throat a fuckin' funeral!

[Breadhead peaked out the door, sees Y/N and waves his hand with a his usual grim smile which Y/N happily waves back]

[Ken rubs his nose and with a sigh stares at mud and breadhead]

Ken : Sighs... You two, get the cement...

Mel : Waitwaitwait–What the hell?!

M!Reader : The what now?!

Mud : Another one? To who–...[Stares at Y/N] Oh come on! To Y/N? I was just beginning to like this rotten bag

M!Reader : Coming from the melting skin Ashtray with legs by the way...

Mud : See! not to mention I like this guy way better then that stick up the ass romeo

Ken : Okay that's it! Father-Daughter and potential cemented rotten corpse talk NOW! Coming through you heathens!

[Ken pushes the customers aside as he carries both of them to the meat locker]

Mel : The fu–This again?!

....

[Ken SLAMS the locker door shut, pacing back and forth while Mel and Y/N sit on a meat hook bench]

Ken : You think this is a game, Mel? You think spillin’ that kinda secret to some–

[Ken points his hand towards Y/N]

Ken : walking expiration date is casual pillow talk?!

Mel : Walking expiration–Look who's talking!

M!Reader : I just wanna point out that she already told me like a week ago–

Ken : Kid, you’re not helping your–...Wait what?!

Mel : Should've seen the way he reacted–He fainted like a prince

M!Reader : ...Did I?

[Mel starts squeezing his cheek]

Mel : An adorable one~

[Y/N let out a chuckle, Ken once more–Rubs his nose with a sigh]

Ken : My god so that's why you were carrying him passed out over your shoulder to the storage room–Mel, do you even KNOW what kind of situation he could lead us too?!

Mel : Don’t talk to him like that! He’s not the problem, Ken—I’m the one who told him, because I trust him!

[Ken's eyes start twitching]

Ken : Oh well great! You trust the guy with the squishiest brain in the district, That makes me feel so much better!

[Muffled voice from outside the locker]

Mud : You want us to pre-mix or dry-pack!

Breadhead : Got even the shovel ready just in case!

[Ken rubbing his temples]

Ken : Dear rotting gods, these idiots…

Mel : Ken, Please, He hasn’t told anyone! He’s not gonna tell anyone! He’s—he’s mine, okay? That means something...

Ken : You serious? [Stares at Y/N]...Y/N?

M!Reader : Yes ken, I may be squishy And... passes out a few times when mel told me–But I would never betray her!

[Pause, Ken stares long, Too long–]

Ken : Sighs... God my stomach hurts–

[Mel Snickers]

Mel : Pfftt–You?

Ken : Oh shut up!

[Ken putting both his hands onto his hips]

Ken : …Fine, Fine, I ain’t happy about it, But if this gets out—

[Ken takes out the knife out of his head–And points it at Y/N]

Ken : if anyone gets a whiff—you're dead meat, Y/N, just cause I tolerate you more then the other rotbags doesn't mean I won't do anything to insure Mel's safety...

M!Reader : I respect that!

[Ken's expression is still stern but softened a bit due to Y/N's words]

Ken : Good, Glad we're on the same page...

[Mel stares up at ken with glimmer–And in an instant wrapped her entire body onto Y/N's side, giggling while giving him a full tight body hug]

.....

[Door creaks open, Mud pokes his head in while carrying a cement block]

Mud : Soooo... cement’s off or on?

Ken : Off, put it back in the freezer—

[Mud just throws it in a random direction–A sound of broken glass can be heard in the background]

Mud : Congrats new Romeo, you live another day!

[Y/N still being given a crushing hug from Mel with his eyes almost popping out from her squeezing him]

M!Reader : T-Thanks—C-Crushin’... Body... please... love—I need my bones to not do a suicide pact..!

[i2rizz]

Hello!

I really like the Parts from "no way he pulled that" and i was wondering if you could do a Part. 4 but with Kurona? I am not Sure but i kinda think that Kurona fits for these oneshots? If not you can totally ignore this request,only write it if you are comfortable with it!

Have a great day!☆

Why are yall so invested in the no way he pulled that concept so muchh? Because atp i might as well have written for over half the bllk cast

Anyways sure kurona is such a bbg exept im losing ideas what to write for this concept

No Way He Pulled That Pt.9

The only reason Kurona even showed up to this godforsaken "mandatory team bonding beach day" was because Ego probably threatened to replace his organs with soccer balls if he didn't.

So now here he was, lying half-submerged in sand like a sad lizard, hoodie still on, trying to tune out the chaos around him. Bachira had already declared himself king of the volleyball net. Isagi was explaining beach ball physics like someone had asked. Rin? Sitting under a beach umbrella, silently judging everyone like Poseidon had wronged him personally.

And Kurona? He was sipping his coconut water, headphones in, eyes closed.

That is—until the chaos shifted. The volume dipped, the conversations faltered, and suddenly, the sun itself seemed to pause in the sky.

"Ranzyyy!" a voice called, sickly sweet and prob filled with mischief.

Every single Blue Lock boy turned.

Marching across the sand, dragging a leopard-print cooler behind her, came her. Loud, bright, effortlessly hot—like someone who would’ve been the lead singer in a punk-pop band and a part-time hot sauce reviewer. Everything about her screamed chaotic sunshine: crop top with rhinestones, skirt too short for decency, star-shaped sunglasses, glitter body oil. And the person she was looking at?

Kurona Ranze

Reo literally froze mid-sip of his smoothie. Bachira's head whipped around so fast he almost dislocated something. Rin blinked in a way that could only be described as existentially disturbed. Even Kaiser looked offended by the audacity.

She plopped beside Kurona like it was the most natural thing in the world, cracked open a soda, and leaned against his side with a smug, "Miss me, baby?"

Kurona—deadpan, unbothered Kurona—smiled. “Of course”

Cue utter collapse of everyone’s collective brain cells.

"That’s his girlfriend??" Reo stage-whispered like it was illegal.

"There’s no way. He doesn’t even speak" Isagi muttered.

"She looks like she eats glitter" Rin said flatly.

Bachira gasped. "She probably does! That’s so cool!"

The worst part? Kurona was so chill about it. Like he didn’t just shatter the entire universe’s understanding of him in five seconds. She poked his cheek and called him "Ranzeezy" He even let her braid a little piece of his hair and clip in a sparkly butterfly barrette—without flinching.

Actually? he was just vibing. Calm. At peace. Hands her his drink. Compliments her nails. Looks like he's about to propose right there on the beach towel surrounded by seashells.

"I'm sorry, what the hell is going on" Isagi mutters, too stunned to be fake polite about it.

Eventually someone-probably Reo, he was twitching the most-cracks.

“Brother. How??” he hisses.

Kurona blinked at him, lazily. "I said hi to her at a juice bar"

"JUST HI?!"

"She said she liked my socks"

"Socks???"

"And then she kissed me"

Kaiser, absolutely livid, turned to Isagi. "You’ve been breaking down every tactical formation in history for months and this guy scores because of SOCKS!?"

"Unbelievable" Rin mumbled, still staring.

"She kissed you because of your socks?"

Another shrug. "They had cartoon sharks on them"

Kaiser is one second away from rage-quitting reality. "You mean to tell me this entire time we've been training like lunatics and you scored a girlfriend because of shark socks?!"

Kurona: "Basically"

Bachira looked like he was about to start taking notes.

Meanwhile, she was now lounging on Kurona’s towel, making a sand heart around them and sticking little shells in his hood. He just... let her. Didn’t complain. Didn’t flinch. Just leaned back and said, "Looks cute"

And that’s when they knew—

There was absolutely no way he pulled that

[leclerc-hs]

capsize - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader summary: in which charles is an idiot and you decide to make him suffer for a little bit warnings: smut, angst!, exhibitionism (kinda?), breeding kink!, language, 18+!, bad french!!! (please correct me and i'll edit), barely proofread (sorry if there’s mistakes my eyeballs hurt) word count: 5.9k (LENGTHYYYYY) author's note: had to give us some angst obvi....but also smut bc single dad charles is so hot. let me know what you think! I can't believe it ended up being this long but it felt like it was impossible to end. xoxo. please blow this up bc the effort I put into writing this took 100% of my brain power away lmao. also I got an anon request to write about nanny getting a internship with a fashion company which is included in this! french edits made by the lovely @dannyramirezwife (idk what I would do without you)

part 1 part 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 52,789 others yourusername welcome to miami 🐚🧡 view all 1,321 comments yourbsf but how do you kill it every time??? landonorris mmmm papaya looks good on you🍊 charles_leclerc how do I dislike a comment? liked by yourusername and 7,829 others yourusername 😂 user guys omg. user charles is NOT having it charles_leclerc beautiful. but please stick to red ❤️ user CRYING user lando is def on his shit list user lando wants her so bad lmaoooo

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 78,992 others yourusername luigi follows only the ferraris 🏎️🏁 view all 4,391 comments scuderiaferrari as you should! ❤️ user OMG SHES IN MIAMI!!!! user does this mean his daughter is there!!!! user i would hope. unless she's not doing her job lol user we need baby leclerc content!!! charles_leclerc damn right ❤️ yourbsf miami looks gooood on u. wanna move? yourusername 😏 charles_leclerc absolutely not user charles gtfooooo user what does charles just stalk her comments?

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,582,817 others charles_leclerc special guests this weekend ❤️ we’ll keep pushing as always. view all 5,717 comments scuderiaferrari the most precious guests EVER user literally. user guys he’s using plurals again!!! user it has to be about @/yourusername too user crying they’re so cute carlossainz55 can’t wait for her to design my next helmet 🌶️ charles_leclerc OUR* yourusername sweet baby girllllll 🩷🧸🎀

lando.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 274,892 others lando.jpg mrs. 305 tagged yourusername view all 3,672 comments user omg. user are her and lando dating? user i hope not user they would be so cute carlossainz55 damnnnnn 🌶️🥵 lando.jpg don't poke the bear @/charles_leclerc charles_leclerc 😒 yourusername don’t ever let me take another tequila shot again lando.jpg should i cancel the ones i just ordered to your room? yourusername you BETTER be joking charles_leclerc is that why i opened the door to shots? charles_leclerc mon dieu user no like she's so pretty user they're sharing a room!??? landonorris tagged yourusername in a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 900,281 others yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 65,428 others yourusername who let lando behind the dj booth last night???? tagged landonorris view all 2,318 comments maxfewtrell he’s such a 🐍 user omg her and lando?? user lando has been in love with her for so long user can we just take in that charles didn’t like this post? user charles has a habit of not liking any of her posts with other men 👀 user ariana what are u doing here user where is charles?? user prob with his daughter bc she clearly isn't lol user it's HIS daughter landonorris i'm so lucky user WHAT!!!!!!! user GUYS HELP user IS HE CONFIRMING?!!!? yourusername you need to stop trolling the internet lando user DJ LANDOOOOO HAS RETURNED

YOU BEGIN TO wonder whether the universe harbors some inexplicable grudge against you. Because really, you always make sure to check in on your friends often. You always make sure to pay your bills on time, if not earlier. Heck, you even make sure to donate to a different charity every month. Yet, as the jet encounters heavily turbulent skies on the way to Miami, the persistent question echoes in your mind ‘why me?’.

Luckily, a bundle of joy rests on your lap, cupping your face in her hands, and playfully squeezing your cheeks. A sweet distraction from the terror you feel inside. It’s adorable how earnestly she tries to impact calmness in you, even though her eyes are half shut with sleep. 

“Ne sois pas effrayé,” Don’t be scared. Her voice maintains its gentleness as she swiftly loses interest in your cheeks, redirecting her tiny hands to play with the ends of your hair. “Je suis là avec papa.” Me and papa are here.

“Chérie,” Charles coos at his daughter, picking her up from your lap and resting her down on the bed. “Repose-toi bien," Get some rest. He tucks her into the bed, a space far too vast for her tiny body, nestling her favorite fluffy bunny stuffed animal by her side. You observe in admiration as he plants a gentle kiss to her forehead, then tenderly strokes her hair in a soothing manner.

“J’ai besoin qu’elle me borde, papa,” I need her to tuck me in. Her tiny fingers point to you and your heart instantly tightens. With a slight shake in your steps, you make your way to the bed, sitting on the side of it. “Bonne nuit, ma petite.” Goodnight, little one.

“Bonne nuit, maman,” Goodnight, mom. The words were mumbled with sleep, but it was the name that couldn’t be ignored.

For a brief period, both you and Charles experienced a suspended moment, a pause in time. Never had she referred to you in such a way, and you certainly didn’t want Charles to assume you influenced her perception in any manner.

“I don’t know why she said that.”

Caught like a deer in headlights, you pivot your head to face him. Panic courses through you, eyes widened, heart pounding. Yet, as you turn to Charles, he appears nonchalant, offering only a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“C’est bien.” It’s okay.

In a hushed pause, the both of you remain motionless aside from turning your head back to the sleeping toddler, entranced by how peaceful she looks. However, Charles finds it hard to divert his gaze from you. His eyes focus on the serene scene of his daughter’s fingers delicately entwined with yours, even in the depths of sleep, acknowledging the profound connection between you two. In these tranquil moments, where your presence is indispensable for tucking her in, Charles not only appreciates the nurturing care you offer but also recognizes the profound love and solace you impact. He can’t help but feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

Only when Charles’s gentle hands tenderly squeezed the back of your neck, providing a subtle massage to your tense muscles, did you become acutely aware of the extent of your own exhaustion.

“Allez, dormons un peu, d’accord?” Let’s get some sleep, yeah? His lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, followed by a tender kiss on your temple, guiding you toward the other bed on the jet. Wrapping his arms snugly around your body, he let the both of you fall onto the mattress. While pulling the covers over both of you, your face pressed against his chest clad in a soft t-shirt. As you planted a gentle kiss above the neckline, you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.  

Despite the passing of a few months since that initial kiss, your connection with Charles retained a serene simplicity. In the quietude of your shared moments, you found solace. Deliberately, you resisted the temptation to let your mind drift into the what if’s, choosing instead to remain in the present moments. 

However, within his mind, thoughts raced at a million miles a minute. Regardless of the casualness of your relationship you both claim to have, he couldn’t stop picturing you with swollen breasts and a swollen belly. The moment his daughter called you ‘maman’, an almost feral instinct surged within him. It was a wild and untamable force. He couldn’t stop imagining you pregnant. Full of his kid. Full of him. The need to fill you up with all of him was all but surging through his veins. All the blood was rushing to his cock, and he knew he needed to get these thoughts out of his head. 

“Bonne nuit,” Goodnight. His voice sounded so rough as his arms tightened around you and you easily fell into a quick slumber, feeling so safe in his arms from the turbulent skies.

-

The abrupt touchdown of the jet resonated through the cabin, rousing you from slumber. A ballet of movement ensued before your eyes met the scene: Charles had migrated to one of the plush seats, his daughter perched upon his knee. The ambient hum of the aircraft formed a backdrop to the unfolding familial vignette, a delicate interplay of affection. As Charles tenderly pinched his daughter’s cheeks, childlike laughter following their hushed whispers.

Charles shifted his gaze towards you, now upright on the bed. Your tousled hair framed a face adorned with the lingering softness of sleep, and your eyes, slightly puffy with remnant of slumber, held a captivating allure. Despite your disheveled state, he couldn’t help but find that you remained the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Bien dormi?” Sleep well?

A gentle smile played on your lips as you rose from the bed, indulging in a languorous stretch that showcased the contours of your body. The fabric of the t-shirt clung momentarily, revealing the subtle canvas of freckles adorning your stomach to Charles. His gaze involuntarily flicked away, a reflex triggered by the flooding memories, thoughts of you pregnant resurfacing in vivid detail. The mere glimpse of your stomach had him internally spiraling. 

“Uncle Lorenzo and Auntie Char want to see you b��bé,” baby. A ripple of excitement danced in his daughter’s eyes as she clapped her hands joyfully at the mere mention of her uncle. Lorenzo and Charlotte had made their way to Miami a few days prior, cleverly disguising their visit as an opportunity to vacation while supporting Charles in the impending race. This strategic maneuver afforded you and Charles the luxury of solitude in the days leading up to the event, a rare and treasured gift compared to the last few months.

-

“Merde,” Shit. He grunted as his head fell back against the headboard of the shared bed. His green eyes watching you with flushed cheeks as you worked yourself over his cock. “This is where you belong, yeah?” 

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of the hotel room. Eliciting a warm glow in the hotel room as you sunk down onto him deeper than before. Your pussy fluttering around his length, appeasing the ache that he created before you even opened your eyes. 

You nodded your head repeatedly. “Mon dieu, yes.” 

His hands cup your ass, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate layers of your skin, leaving an imprint as if searching for a connection beneath the surface. Controlling your movements, he urges you to move more frantically. The feeling of your hot, wet, pussy squeezing him was almost too much for him to handle.

With each passing second, the pressure of his fingers increased, creating a sensation of both command and invitation at the back of your neck. His touch was a deliberate grasp, not just holding but asserting dominance. Your lips met in a symphony of desire.  His tongue slipping into your mouth instantly, brushing against yours as he held you against him. Your nipples flushed against the toned muscles of his chest as you leaned in, and the pound of his hips fucking upwards into you, had you all but mewling into his mouth. 

“C’mon mon ange, don’t make me wait.” My angel.

You’re not sure if it was the pet name or the fact that you loved to please him. Or maybe the brush of his body against your clit. But your orgasm came quickly after while the tears spilled slowly from your eyes. He swallowed every moan you gave him like it was his own source of oxygen before flipping both of you over and pushing you face first into the mattress.

Every moan you gave him was like fuel to the pound of his hips. He was completely lost in the feeling of you. “Take it all,” he grunted as he pushed your body into the mattress deeper than before, his eyes not moving from the sight of his cock coated with you and slipping into you. 

You were begging and pleading him to give you more, more, more. You don’t know what more he could give you; you just knew you needed it.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, “like you were made just to take my fucking cock whenever I need.” His thrusts began to slow, but the speed didn’t alter just how good they felt. No, he pushed himself even further, hitting all the spots just right. It was as if he was trying to become one with you. Like he wanted merge you two into a singular existence. 

“Cha,” You moaned out his name and you couldn’t see but his eyes widened. His heart clenched at the nickname. He pulled out quickly, provoking a complaint from your lips as he began scooping one of his arms under your stomach and flipping you onto your back. He took a second to just look at you, a shine forming in his eyes as he observed you. You look absolutely fucked. Cheeks flushed, hair all over the place, eyes glossed with satiation, and red marks all over your neck from his fingertips.

“Needed to see your face,” he answered before you could ask, slipping his cock back into your needy hole. The confession making your heart clench and the stretch of his cock had your stomach doing flips. “Besoin de voir tes yeux.” Needed to see your eyes.

His gaze was unwavering and fixed upon you. It was as if sought to etch the intricate details of your face into the canvas of his memory. He wanted to capture every nuance, every curve, and every expression that you made. 

“Merde, let me cum in you.” His eyes trailed down your face, to your neck, to your breasts. The bounce of your breasts from the force of his hips had him in a trance, thoughts of you with swollen breasts came back to mind. When he felt your pussy clench around him at the phrase, a smirk formed. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up sweet girl?

“S’il ti plaît,” please. You were pleading. You wanted nothing more. “J’en ai besoin.” I need it.

Charles’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at your confession. His groaning and grunting increasing in volume as he pounds into you harder, every inch of his cock pressing against your velvet walls as he releases into you, making you feel all warm inside. 

“Tu es parfaite.” You’re perfect. He collapses beside you; his voice was so low that you almost didn’t hear him mumble the words as he pressed his lips to your collarbone before resting his head on the pillows. You felt your cheeks redden almost instantly, brushing off the compliment with a smile and small laugh. 

“Je dois prendre une douche.” I need to shower. The mixture of his and yours cum was oozing down your leg. You could still feel the warmth of it. Charles mumbled a soft “mmmm”, already drifting off into a slumber. 

-

You weren’t sure what changed in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, but you could feel the unease build in your stomach as you emerged with a towel wrapped around your frame and skin flushed red from the heat of the water to Charles pacing around the room, a knuckle in between his teeth.

He was agitated to say the least. He felt betrayed by you.

A subtle smile played on Charles’s lips as the sound of the shower resonated in the room, accompanied by your soft hum of a song he couldn’t name. The ambiance of the hotel room cocooned him in a profound sense of peace, and in that moment, he wished he could stay here eternally with you. Kissing you, touching you, inside of you.

When he heard the buzzing of a phone on the table beside the bed, he instinctively reached for it without glancing at the screen, presuming it to be his own. Given the context of it being a race weekend, early morning phone calls were expected. 

“Bonjour?” Hello? He let out a cough, clearing his throat from the sound of sleep and satiated desire. The subtle rasp carried with it the traces of his happiness.

“Ah bonjour, hello, this is Camille with Christian Dior.” The woman’s voice echoes into Charles’ ear. He sits up immediately, back against the headboard. His first thought was ‘why is Christian Dior calling me?’ but it wasn’t that abnormal either. Companies reached out to him all the time for collaborations. “I am calling regarding the application we received for the internship and wanted to schedule and in-person meeting.”

Charles felt his stomach twist in knots as he listened to Camille chatter into the phone. Application? Internship? Moving the phone from his ear, he looked at the phone realizing that it was in fact yours and not his. This call was for you, not him. Camille’s voice was muffled as it was pulled away from his ear. 

A wave of nausea coursed through Charles, the unexpected revelation at the possibility of you leaving hitting him hard. How could you just apply for another job like that? He felt himself growing antsy and restless as thoughts swirled in his head. Camille, who was confused by the silence, mumbled something about calling back later due to the lack of response from Charles.

He dropped the phone onto the duvet of the bed, standing up and pacing the room while he felt himself begin to question everything. Questioning why you would leave. Does he not give you enough? Was it too much to handle? As his thoughts droned on, taking a turn for the worse, he began to feel angry. Angry that you considered leaving this job. He began to see red.

“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” What’s wrong? You were cautious, not standing too close to him to give him some space. His head whipped in your direction almost too quickly. 

Your attention was drawn to the wrinkle lines etched on Charles’s forehead, marking the aftermath of his furrowed eyebrows. The subtle creases and wrinkles, usually absent in is carefree demeanor, painted you a picture of his current inner turmoil. When you shifted your gaze to meet with his narrowed eyes, the cautious padding of your bare feet seemed to echo.

It was an unfamiliar sight to witness Charles engulfed in such a storm of emotions. The stark contrast to his usual carefree and joyful demeanor.  He was blinded by his rage as he muttered the next words.

“Es-tu idiote?” Are you stupid? His jaw was clenched. A soft gasp left your lips as you clutched tighter onto the top of your towel, feeling rather exposed now. “Demande à Christian Dior.” Ask Christian Dior. His spat out the name Christian Dior with such disdain. As if it were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Your eyes widened, everything clicking. You weren’t sure how he knew, but he was answering your internal thoughts before words could form on your tongue.

“Ils t’ont appelé. J’ai répondu par erreur.” They called you. I answered by mistake. He let out a loud sigh as he leaned against the dresser across from the end of the bed, his forearms flexing as he gripped onto it tightly. You noticed the definition of his muscles and veins forming on his arms. He was squeezing the dresser, trying to gain some relief from such anger swirling within him.

At first, you wanted to argue him for answering your phone. But you knew him. You knew he wasn’t snooping. He said it was a mistake, so you took his word for it.

“Qu’ont-ils dit?” What did they say? You weren’t sure how to approach this conversation with him. You especially were not expecting it to go this way, with you wrapped in only a cotton towel.

His eyes narrowed to an almost imperceptible slit, the vibrant green drained from any warmth of presence. “Are you serious?” The exasperation in his voice reverberated through the room. Your question seemed to strike a nerve, leaving him incredulous. Was that all you had to say? The absence of an explanation hung in the air, adding more tension to the charged atmosphere between you two.

“Ne me crie pas dessus.” Don’t yell at me. You felt your own anger building at his attitude. Who did he think he was? You padded back to your suitcase, grabbing whatever outfit you could without paying attention. You weren’t sure what you even grabbed or if it even matched, but you didn’t care. You were too busy listening to Charles raise his voice.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He pushed off the dresser, trailing behind you. “What is this internship you applied for?”

You didn’t answer right away, instilling more anger within Charles. “Answer me. You’re just going to leave like always?” His tone struck you with disbelief, the harshness leaving an unexpected sting. The air was too intense. You needed to get some air.

Like always?

You turned and faced him. “Are you asking me as my boss or my fuck buddy?” You knew it was a low blow, but it was so unfair for him to be this mean to you. It wasn’t even necessarily his words but his tone that bothered you most. He spoke to you as if you were a child who needed punishing.

You had a shirt half-way over your head and black leggings on. “It’s just a summer internship. I didn’t even do the interview yet, but you seem to know that already.” You waved him off, rushing around the room to get your stuff. You needed to get out of here. You weren’t going to sit here and let him berate you.

“You can’t just leave.” He followed you to the door, gripping your wrist to pull you back towards him. You yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You’re just like everyone else.” His words tumbled out incoherently, much like uncontrollable word vomit. He could feel the panic rising in him as you made your way towards the door. “Right. Use me and then leave. It’s all I’m good for.”

His words twisted your stomach, and you chose to overlook the burning ache in your heart.

“Fine. Just go fuck your ex-boyfriend or something. Or Lando. I know he wants you.” He stood there, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breaths. You pulled the door open, standing in the frame, you took one last glance at him.

“Va te faire foutre.” Go fuck yourself. And with that you were out the door.

-

“Je n’arrive pas à le croire!” I can’t believe him! “C’est vraiment un connard.” He’s really such an asshole.

“Babes, you’re g’na need to speak in English for me to understand,” he laughed before taking a sip of his beer, “you muppet.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at Lando, seated across from you in the elegant ambiance of the hotel restaurant. Adorned in a snug black dress, every curve of your figure accentuated, the crystal jewels meticulously tracing the contours of your breasts. The garment displayed a subtle dip between your cleavage, adding an enthralling touch. It was safe to say you looked fucking good. Or as Lando said, “holy fucking shit, you took the air out of my lungs.” Which in response, you couldn’t resist a playful shove to his shoulder.

In the aftermath of the argument with Charles, you found yourself in the company of Lando, driven partly by Charles’s mention of him. Despite the strained circumstances, your connection with Lando remained strictly platonic. However, Lando’s penchant for flirting was a constant, adding a playful dynamic that colored your friendship. Thankfully for Lando, he was the reason you were able to even get a change of clothes seeing as you left the hotel room earlier in complete disarray. It was still your day off, one that was originally supposed to be spent with Charles. Lorenzo and Charlotte were still taking care of Charles’s daughter, leaving your night wide open.

“Martin’s driver is picking us up soon,” Lando declared, drowning the remainder of his beer and emphatically slamming the bottle onto the table. There was still two more days before the race weekend began, meaning Lando wanted to go out to which you agreed easily. Meanwhile, you maintained a composed sip from your glass of wine. With a playful glint in his eye, Lando added, “Get your dance moves ready muppet.” The prospect of the evening ahead seemed to carry a promise of lively escapades.

Your laughter echoed, creating a buoyant atmosphere as you seamlessly fell into a comfortable conversation with Lando. His easy-going nature and banter helped soothe the lingering nerves from the earlier argument with Charles. In that moment, you felt nothing but gratitude for Lando’s presence.

-

The vibrant lights of the club painted the atmosphere in a kaleidoscope of colors, while the unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered in the air. The club pulsated with energy of the intoxicated crowd, bodies swaying to the vibrations of music surrounding them. It wasn’t until you reached the DJ booth that you felt a wave of reassurance wash over you. 

The night unfolded with a multitude of shots, some in which you had to pretend to take, just to save yourself from vomiting on the floor. The music provided a lively group, thus creating a joyous atmosphere. You surrendered to the rhythm, dancing through the hours, deliberately steering clear of thoughts about the brunette Monegasque who typically occupied your mind.

As you slid out of the booth, making your way to the bathroom, you finally pulled your phone out of your purse. The screen was littered with missed calls and multiple messages, most from nonetheless Charles.

from Charles (dilf)    Where are you?                                              18:45 You’re such a brat.                                          19:19 Really? You’re with Lando?                             22:47 Could your dress be any fucking shorter?    22:51 Tu essaies de me tuer                                  01:27 You’re really testing my patience                01:46

You didn’t answer. Feeling triumphant as you snickered to yourself at his messages, him clearly struggling with the concept of you being out with Lando. Slipping the phone back into your purse, you continued your night, leaving all worries behind. Because if you didn’t, the mere reality of the argument with Charles would have you vomiting on the floor.

-

It was honestly insane how the sun was just beginning to rise. Yet, you and Lando were just stepping foot into the hotel not even a few minutes ago, drunken laughter between you both as you exited the elevator to Lando's floor. No doubt, pictures of you and Lando surfacing all over the internet tonight. But you weren’t worried about that. What you were worried about was the angry brunette standing outside of Lando’s hotel room door, his arms crossed, and eyes tired as if he didn’t sleep the entire night.

You and Lando both sobered up quickly from the sight of him, brooding in front of the hotel door. Charles opened his mouth, utilizing both of your native tongue to exclude Lando from the conversation.

“Tu es putain de sérieuse?” Are you fucking serious? The harsh tone he used drew you back to the argument that had occurred earlier in the day. Or should you say yesterday?

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here?

He rolled his eyes, teeth gritting as he looked over to Lando smiling beside you with his hotel room key in hand. “Muppet, are you sleeping over, or no? I’m tired.”

Charles didn’t afford you a moment to respond before swiftly shutting him down. The gaze he directed at Lando carried a lethal intensity, a silent warning that spoke volumes. “Absolutely fucking not.” Charles’s grip tightened on your arm, an assertive pull guiding you down the hallway toward the elevator. Surprisingly, you didn’t resist, allowing the momentum to carry you forward. You looked back at Lando who had a smirk on his face and winked at you. What a fucker.

The elevator enveloped you both in an oppressive silence, interrupted only by rhythmic beeping accompanying each floor you ascended. Charles maintained a deliberate gap between you, yet his hand remained firmly clasped around your wrist. In the mirrored surface of the doors, your eyes locked onto each other, breaths syncing. As the doors finally opened, Charles propelled you out with a gentle push, his body behind yours. 

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the hotel room that Charles unleashed a torrent of emotions upon you. His voice, thick with a mixture of anger, jealousy, hurt, and worry, carried the weight of the pent-up emotions he had been harboring. He had seen the stories, the posts, and even the photos of you at dinner, images captured by fans.

The way you smiled at Lando in the pictures had him throwing his phone. And don’t even get him started on the dress. The fucking dress.

“Do you like Lando?” He sneered, jealousy bubbling inside of his chest.

And because you felt like stirring the pot even more, you smirked. “Yes.” And although it was the truth, it wasn’t what Charles thought. You felt bad as you saw his face fall, but he deserved it just for a little bit at the very least.

You could feel all the thoughts racing through Charles head before he pulled you both towards the balcony, staring at the city skyline instead of at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice thickening with emotion, “What about me? What about us?”

“As a friend.” You finally announced, turning your body to fully face Charles. “I like Lando as a friend, Cha.” You confirmed, a groan leaving your lips. “Do we have to do this right now? I’m so tired and my feet hurt.”

“Oui.” Allowing no room for further complaints, Charles pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you and effectively trapping you between the warmth of his body and the balcony railing. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, finding a moment of relief in the reassurance that you were back, and in his arms. The tight hold on you spoke of relief.

“You’re mine,” He states. “Label or no label.” He's possessive in the way he speaks and touches you. Like he needs to get his point across. You feel him laugh as his fingers trail around your front side, trailing down until he can slip them up the front of your dress, pressing his fingers to your lace covered core. It was almost too easy. The dress was so short.

The desperate ache in the pit of your tummy grows with each swipe of his thumb along your covered clit. You began to forget why you were even fighting in the first place, his hands on you felt too good. You lulled your head back against him, making more room for his lips to attack on your neck.

Your ability to articulate words faltered, your legs turning to jell-o under his embrace. With one arm securely wrapped around your waist, he became your anchor, ensuring that you remained standing. 

“You want my fingers?” His lips are hot on your ear. He slips his fingers beneath your underwear, feeling just how wet you really are. It was almost too easy. “So fucking wet and warm, mmm.” He groans as he slips one finger inside of you, moving it so slowly that you began to get frustrated with the pace. Your hips rut, trying to speed up his fingers, but he holds you in place removing your ability to move.

Your body begins to tremble as he increases the pace of his finger, inserting another one and curling it, hitting the spot you ached most. You want to cum so badly; you want to soak his fingers and tremble around them. “So greedy.” He takes your ear lobe in between his teeth, nibbling gently on it before trailing his tongue down the rest of your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You groaned, his words pushing you towards your climax quicker than anticipated. He could tell you close with the way you were squeezing his fingers so tightly, and the way your words were almost incoherent. As soon as your arm reached back, your fingers brushing through his hair, he pulled his fingers out of you.

“No!” You half-shrieked at the loss of contact, pulling his hair in the process. Your face blushed and eyebrows furrowed from the loss of his fingers.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He flips your body around, your back flush against the balcony railing now. The breeze continues to blow your hair around, no doubt making a mess of it.

“You tell me you’re mine.” You bite back, refusing to say it first. Charles began laughing, it reverberated in his chest. 

“Oh, mon ange.” He ignores what you say, trailing his eyes down your body. “This fucking dress.” His words are sharp as he begins gripping the ends of your dress and shoving it upwards, exposing you completely to him now. He placed a quick slap of his finger tips to your clit, the shock and sting of the slap turning you on more than you could imagine.

He pulls you forward, hands squeezing your neck, the area right under your jaw line to be more specific, lips immediately pressing against yours. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was hot, messy, and wet. A clashing of teeth and tongue as he sucked on your tongue. Leaving you almost no room to breathe in the process. But you didn’t mind, his kisses were intoxicating.

The firm presence of Charles’s hand on your neck persisted, the subtle pressure from the pads of his fingers inducing a dizzying effect. It was a tactile reminder of his control, a touch that left your head spinning, and wanting more. “I’ve always been yours.” He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pulling your lips back to his. This time, his fingers slip back into your heated core, assaulting and curling them just how you needed them. You breathed hotly into his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you. It was quick and hot. Charles could’ve sworn he was going to cum right in his pants at the feeling of you squeezing his fingers, coating them in you. He’s never been more jealous of his fingers in his life.

He flips you around again, fumbling with the button of his pants as he shoves them down, them falling to a pile around his ankles. He wasn’t slow, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, he teased you both for a little bit.

When he finally slipped into you, you swore you were going to cum again. You had to squeeze the railing harder to prevent yourself from doing so. You wanted to cum with him. 

“Squeezing me so well.” He moaned, the wind picking up and the only glimmer of light was from the sun barely peeping over the horizon. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, out in the open of a hotel balcony, but the thrill of it made it that much more exciting.

“Tu aimes ça, hm?” You like that? He pushes you forward so that your chest was pressed to the railing, your head dangling over the edge as you looked down from the height of the building. Everything looked so small from this height. “Want the whole world to know you’re mine.” He continues.

“Want to fill you up.” You clench hard around him, soft moans escaping your lips into the air in response. Charles couldn’t help but feel his heart pound as he muttered the next words. “Want to fill you up with my cum, want to fuck a baby into you.” 

At first, he was nervous muttering the words aloud. But the clench of your pussy around his cock only eased his nerves. Your moans increasing in volume told him just how much you liked that too.

“Merde,” Shit. You were mewling into the open air, the increase in pace of his hips had you seeing stars. 

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Yes!” You were yelling it repeatedly. His fingers crawled their way around your body, slipping into the dip in the front of your dress and pinching your nipples. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“C’mon donne-le moi.” Give it to me. And boy did you. You both came with a loud cry, the sound of his hips slapping into your backside a faint noise compared to the moans. The warmth of his cum seeping into you for the second time in less than 24 hours. Although, you were on the pill, you still liked to play along with the idea of being pregnant. The idea of Charles filling you up turned you on like no other.

You both took a few seconds to recoup, trying to catch your breath. He pulled out slowly, but brought his fingers down, pushing the mixture of both of your cum back inside you. He didn’t want a single drop of it to go to waste. 

He turned you around, bringing your lips to a sweet kiss.

“Je suis désolée.” I’m sorry.  His eyes hold your own. “I should’ve said it sooner. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. The idea of you leaving had me freaked out, you didn’t deserve any of it. You..”

A small smile graces your lips as you see how genuine he is and you lean up on your tippy toes, bringing your lips back to his. Essentially shutting him up, his hands wrap back around you, lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into the hotel room, both of you collapsing into the bed.

“Even if I got a new job, I’m still yours.” You started. “But actually, there’s this great nanny job I heard about.” Charles feels panic forming in his chest again. But you continue on, “It involves the cutest little girl ever. I also heard that the dad is so hot and cool. Did I mention he’s single?” You joke, laughter erupting between the both of you as he cradles you into his body.

“I don’t think he’s single.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.”

And that was all he needed to hear.