#what do you mean muscle?he is full of milk

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.3)

You smacks their ass as they walk past (Part.3)

Each X-Man reacts with a mix of surprise and playful teasing when you smacks their ass as they walk past, leading to affectionate and mischievous moments.

Characters: Wade Wilson, Sunspot, Cable, Colossus, Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Lorna Dane, Magik, Domino & Dazzler

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Wade Wilson is the epitome of chaos wrapped in a red-and-black suit. You’ve been dating him for months now, and no matter how absurd or unpredictable things get, there’s one constant—you can always make each other laugh. Today, though, you’ve got something else in mind.

The two of you are lounging in his apartment—well, “apartment” is generous. It’s more like a collection of random objects held together by duct tape and a lack of responsibility. Wade, in full suit minus the mask, is rummaging through the fridge, muttering something about expired tacos.

“Damn it, even my healing factor can’t fix this,” he groans, pulling out a carton of spoiled milk and making a face.

You casually stroll behind him, biting your lip as you admire his figure. Wade may have scars that tell stories of countless battles and regeneration, but to you, he’s perfect. As he bends over to inspect the deeper horrors of his fridge, you decide to strike.

With a playful smirk, you swing your hand and smack his ass, a sharp, satisfying sound echoing through the room. Wade freezes for a split second, then slowly stands up straight, turning his head toward you with that signature Deadpool swagger.

“Did you just—” He breaks off, his eyes narrowing behind an imaginary mask. “Are you initiating some sexy roleplay? Because I am always ready for that.”

You laugh, giving him a sly grin as you cross your arms. “Maybe I am. What are you gonna do about it?”

Wade spins around fully, leaning against the fridge door with his arms crossed. His voice drops to a teasing whisper, but his grin is wide and wicked. “Oh, baby, you just opened Pandora’s box. And by Pandora’s box, I mean my pants. Wanna see what’s inside?”

You roll your eyes, but the heat between you is undeniable. His playful banter never fails to make your heart race, even in moments like this. He steps closer, his voice growing softer and more intimate, as if the whole world outside of you two didn’t matter.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand brushing lightly against your waist. “If you keep smacking me like that, I’m gonna have to make sure you pay for it.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

Wade’s mouth curves into a dangerous smile. “Oh, it’s both.”

Sunspot (Roberto da Costa):

The sun was shining brightly over Xavier’s Mansion as Roberto da Costa strutted across the garden. Dressed in a sleek tank top and joggers, his toned muscles glistened with a faint golden glow—a byproduct of absorbing too much solar energy. You’d been dating Roberto for almost a year now, and one thing you knew about him was that he was as confident as he was powerful.

You were standing near the flower beds, watching him from behind as he headed toward the training grounds, admiring the effortless grace in his movements. He looked good, and you couldn’t resist messing with him a little.

Without thinking too much, you saunter up behind him, letting your fingertips glide along his back. Before he can react, you bring your hand down firmly on his ass, the sound of the playful smack hanging in the air.

Roberto stops dead in his tracks, turning around slowly with one eyebrow raised and an amused smile playing on his lips. His eyes smolder as they meet yours, and you can see the fire of his powers flicker briefly under his skin.

“Did you just slap my ass?” he asks, his Brazilian accent thickening just slightly. He looks equal parts shocked and entertained.

You grin at him, leaning casually against a nearby tree. “Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it, hot stuff?”

Roberto chuckles, his lips curling into a grin that could melt ice. He closes the distance between you with two slow, purposeful steps, his gaze trailing over your figure like he’s sizing up a prize. “Oh, princesa, you’re playing with fire,” he says, his voice a low, teasing rumble.

He steps even closer, his hand brushing against your hip, fingers gently squeezing your waist as he leans in. His breath is warm against your ear, and his voice drops even lower. “You think I’m just gonna let you get away with that?”

You smile, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “What if I do it again?”

Roberto’s eyes flash with amusement and heat. He pulls back slightly, running a hand through his dark hair before grinning at you. “You keep that up, and I’m gonna have to show you just how hot I can get.”

You bite your lip, enjoying the playful tension between you two. Roberto always knew how to turn a simple moment into something electric. His hand slips from your waist to the small of your back as he leans in once more, this time his lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Careful, meu amor,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I might just burn for you.”

Cable (Nathan Summers):

Nathan Summers, or Cable, was a man of discipline. Everything about him was precise, methodical, controlled—even the way he moved through the halls of the X-Mansion was calculated. His towering frame and gruff demeanor had always been intimidating to others, but you’d gotten to know the man beneath the soldier—the tenderness hidden under the scars and metal arm.

He was walking ahead of you, carrying a stack of mission reports as you admired the way his broad shoulders stretched his worn-out tactical vest. His silver hair fell slightly over his brow as he made his way to the War Room, but you had other plans.

The idea strikes you out of nowhere. Without giving it a second thought, you quicken your pace and reach out, landing a firm smack on his ass. It’s a bold move—one that surprises even you—but the sound it makes is deeply satisfying.

Nathan stops abruptly. The air in the corridor feels charged, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. Slowly, he turns to look at you, his one good eye narrowing while the other—the glowing cybernetic one—flares slightly.

“Really?” His voice is a deep, gravelly growl, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You shrug innocently, biting back a smile. “What? Just appreciating the view.”

Nathan’s smirk deepens as he places the stack of reports down on a nearby table, his gaze never leaving yours. He takes a step toward you, and you can feel the shift in the air—the intensity radiating off of him. He’s always been a man of action, not words, and right now, you can practically feel his unspoken thoughts.

“You know, you just earned yourself some extra training,” he rumbles, his voice low and rough. His metal hand rests on your shoulder, the coolness of it contrasting with the heat that simmers between you.

“Oh?” You tilt your head up, grinning. “And what kind of training is that?”

Nathan leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “The kind where you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine, but you hold your ground, meeting his intense gaze with a challenging look of your own. “I’m not scared, Summers.”

His grin widens slightly as he straightens up, his large frame towering over you. “Good,” he says, his voice filled with a promise that sends your heart racing. “I’d be disappointed if you were.”

Colossus (Piotr Rasputin):

Piotr Rasputin was as gentle as he was strong. His towering, metal-clad form gave him an imposing presence, but you knew better than anyone that beneath the gleaming steel exterior was a heart of gold. Today, he was busy lifting crates in the garage, preparing for a mission with the X-Men. You watched him from across the room, admiring the way his metal muscles flexed with every effortless movement.

His back was to you as he carried one of the crates, and you couldn’t resist. With a mischievous smirk, you crept up behind him and gave his metal butt a solid smack. The loud clang of your hand meeting his metal hide was oddly satisfying, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

Piotr froze in place, the crate still balanced on one shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you over his massive shoulder, his silver face full of surprise. His steel-blue eyes blinked a few times, clearly processing what had just happened.

"Did you just… hit me?" His thick Russian accent carried a mix of amusement and confusion.

You grinned up at him, crossing your arms. "Sure did. What are you gonna do about it, big guy?"

Piotr set the crate down with a heavy thud and turned to fully face you, towering above you like a mountain of metal. A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, a playful smile spreading across his face.

"You are very bold, my love," he said, his voice deep and warm. He took a step closer, and even though he was metal, there was a tenderness in his movements. His massive hands reached out and rested gently on your hips, his fingers surprisingly gentle against your body.

"But be careful," he teased, lowering his voice. "If you start something… you may not be able to finish it."

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his playful challenge with a grin. "Oh, I think I can handle it."

Piotr chuckled again, his hands tightening slightly on your hips as he leaned down, his towering form enveloping you. His lips brushed against your forehead, a soft metallic kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

"We shall see," he murmured, his breath warm despite his steel skin.

Charles Xavier:

Charles Xavier, the brilliant mind behind the X-Men, had always captivated you with his wisdom and charm. Though bound to his wheelchair, his mental prowess and calm demeanor always drew people to him, yourself included. You loved the quiet moments with him, where his sharp wit and gentle sense of humor made you forget the weight of the world.

It was a quiet afternoon in his study, the two of you enjoying a rare moment of peace. Charles was at his desk, reviewing files on potential new students, his brow furrowed in concentration. You watched him, a smile tugging at your lips as you admired the calm authority he exuded.

Feeling playful, you strolled up behind him. As you passed his wheelchair, you couldn’t resist giving his backside a light smack—just a gentle tap, but enough to break his concentration.

Charles’s hand paused mid-air over the files, and you saw the slightest flicker of surprise in his expression. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his sharp blue eyes filled with both amusement and curiosity.

"Did you just smack me?" His tone was calm, but there was a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You grinned down at him, leaning against the side of his desk. "Maybe I did. Are you going to reprimand me for it, Professor?"

His smile widened, and he raised a single eyebrow, the hint of a laugh escaping his lips. "That would require telepathic punishment, my dear."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Is that a threat or an offer?"

Charles placed the files down carefully, folding his hands in his lap as he looked up at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "I never make threats. Only promises."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze locking with yours. “But I should warn you—if you’re not careful, I may have to enter your mind and… change your attitude.”

The playful banter sent a thrill through you, and you bit your lip, feigning innocence. “You wouldn’t.”

Charles’s smile softened, and he tilted his head, his expression calm but full of affection. “No. I would never change anything about you, not even for a moment.”

His hand reached out and gently took yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t get back at you in other ways.”

You grinned, knowing that even without his telepathy, Charles had plenty of ways to keep things interesting.

Beast (Hank McCoy):

Hank McCoy, was always buried in some kind of experiment in his lab. His brilliant mind and strong, furry blue body made for a striking combination, and over the years, you’d come to love both sides of him equally—the intellectual and the feral. Today, he was engrossed in yet another experiment, the scent of chemicals and the soft hum of machines filling the room.

You watched him from the doorway, his large blue frame hunched over a table, muttering to himself as he scribbled notes on a clipboard. His back was to you, and you couldn’t resist the mischievous urge bubbling inside you.

With a playful grin, you walked up behind him and gave his furry blue ass a firm smack. The sound was muffled by his thick fur, but the impact was enough to make him stop mid-sentence.

Hank straightened up immediately, his large, pointed ears twitching slightly as he turned his head to glance over his shoulder, his golden eyes wide with surprise. “Did… did you just swat me?” His voice held a mix of amusement and disbelief.

You crossed your arms and smiled sweetly at him. “Maybe I did. What are you gonna do about it, Dr. McCoy?”

Hank blinked a few times, his large, clawed hands still gripping the clipboard, before a slow grin spread across his face. He turned fully to face you, standing to his full towering height, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Well,” he rumbled, his voice deep and smooth, “I must say, this is certainly an unexpected interruption to my research.”

He took a step toward you, his large furry hand reaching out to gently cup your chin. “But if you wanted my attention, my dear, there are far more… civilized ways of asking for it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, placing your hands on his broad chest, feeling the soft fur beneath your fingers. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Hank chuckled softly, his golden eyes gleaming with affection as he gazed down at you. “Ah, I see. A woman of action, not words.”

He leaned down, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as his voice dropped to a low, teasing whisper. “I should warn you, though… you may have unleashed a beast.”

You grinned up at him, biting your lip. “Is that a promise?”

Hank’s chuckle was deep and rumbling, and he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Indeed, my love. Indeed.”

Polaris (Lorna Dane):

Lorna is in the middle of assembling something mechanical in the garage, her green hair pulled back into a messy ponytail as she concentrates on manipulating the metal parts with her powers. You watch her for a moment, admiring how easily she bends the metal to her will. With a mischievous grin, you decide to get her attention in your own way, walking by and giving her a light smack on the ass.

The metal pieces she was working on clatter to the floor as Lorna whips around, eyes wide with surprise. "Y/N!" she gasps, though there’s a growing smile on her lips. "Did you seriously just do that?"

You shrug, unable to hide your grin. "What? I couldn’t resist."

Lorna raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk as she steps closer, her fingers beginning to crackle with green energy. "You forget I can control metal, right?" she teases, playfully levitating a nearby wrench into the air, spinning it lazily in her hand. "I could trap you in a metal cocoon right now if I wanted to."

You chuckle, stepping toward her. "But you won’t," you say confidently, knowing she’s more amused than mad.

She narrows her eyes at you, her smirk widening. "Oh, really?" she says, her tone teasing but her powers very much under control. She playfully pulls you toward her with a slight magnetic force, her arms wrapping around your neck as she leans in close. "Just don’t think you’ll get away with that every time," she murmurs before pressing her lips to yours, the slight hum of her powers in the air adding a spark to the moment.

Magik (Illyana Rasputina):

Illyana stands in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets, clearly looking for something. You watch her with a smile, enjoying her no-nonsense attitude that contrasts with her ethereal, otherworldly beauty. As she reaches for something on the top shelf, you can’t help but walk by and give her a quick smack on the ass, a playful grin on your face.

She freezes, her hand still in the cabinet, and you can practically feel the shift in energy as she turns her head to look at you, her eyes glowing faintly with power. "Y/N," she says, her voice low, almost a warning. "Do you really want to test me like that?"

You chuckle, shrugging casually. "Just thought I’d see what happens."

Illyana steps down from the counter and turns to face you fully, her sword suddenly materializing in her hand in a flash of light. "You’re playing a dangerous game," she says with a wicked smile, her eyes filled with mischief. "I could teleport you to Limbo in an instant, you know."

You step closer, undeterred by her threat, knowing she enjoys the back-and-forth as much as you do. "And yet, I’m still standing here."

Her grin widens, and the sword disappears just as quickly as it appeared. "Maybe because I like having you around," she admits softly, stepping closer until she’s right in front of you, her fingers brushing your arm. "But don’t think I’ll let you get away with that easily."

Before you can respond, she pulls you into a kiss, her lips soft but commanding, a reminder of just how powerful she is and how lucky you are to have her by your side.

Domino (Neena Thurman):

Domino lounges on the couch, flipping through channels with a bored expression on her face. Her luck powers have a way of making life feel a little too easy sometimes, but you’ve always admired her laid-back attitude and sharp sense of humor. As you walk by, you decide to spice things up, giving her a playful smack on the ass as you pass.

Domino’s hand freezes on the remote, her mismatched eyes widening in surprise before she slowly turns to look at you. "Oh, so that’s how we’re playing today, huh?" she says, her voice dripping with amusement as she raises an eyebrow. "You’ve got some nerve, Y/N."

You chuckle, leaning against the back of the couch. "Just keeping things interesting."

Domino smirks, setting the remote down and shifting to sit up straight, her gaze locked on you. "Well, you just made things very interesting, sweetheart," she says, standing up and sauntering toward you with that confident, swaggering stride that makes your pulse quicken.

She stops right in front of you, her fingers tracing lightly along your arm. "You know, with my luck, I could turn this around on you in a heartbeat," she teases, her smirk growing wider. "But I think I’ll let you off the hook…for now."

Before you can respond, she grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you in for a kiss, her lips firm and full of playful energy. "Just don’t get too comfortable," she murmurs against your lips, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing grin. "Next time, I might not be so nice."

Dazzler (Alison Blaire):

Alison is sitting in front of her vanity, adjusting her makeup for the show she’s performing later. Her iconic silver jumpsuit glitters under the soft lights, and as she hums quietly to herself, she’s completely engrossed in her preparations. You smile, watching her for a moment, before deciding to stir things up a little. As you walk by, you casually smack her on the ass.

Alison lets out a surprised laugh, her brush slipping from her hand as she turns around to face you. "Y/N!" she says, her voice a mix of playful shock and amusement. "What do you think you’re doing?"

You grin, leaning against the doorframe. "Just appreciating the view."

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips as she turns back to the mirror. "Appreciating the view, huh? Well, next time maybe you could ask nicely."

She finishes touching up her makeup before standing and crossing the room toward you, her hips swaying just a little extra as she walks. "But you know," she says, her voice dropping slightly, "I can give you something even better to appreciate."

Alison steps up to you, her hands resting lightly on your chest as she looks up at you with a teasing smile. "But you’ve got to earn it, babe," she adds, her fingers trailing down your arm in a slow, deliberate motion. "You think you can handle that?"

Her playful challenge makes your heart race, and as she leans in to kiss you softly, her lips warm and sweet, you know that with Alison, there’s never a dull moment.

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[sutorus]

THE GRUDGE PROFESSOR!GETO for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: everybody loves professor geto, and judging by the thousands of viewers you get on every live, a lot of people love you, too. but you and professor geto hate each other. you’ve had enough of his humiliation rituals, and decide to do something about it.

PAIRING: mean professor!geto x student!reader

WC: 5.3k i am an unstoppable beast

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, teacher/student dynamic! adult age gap! (reader is in college, unspecified age), sw/camgirl!reader (don’t like don’t read! no shaming 😤), strong language, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, darling), reader calling geto "sir", unprotected relations, creampie, afab reader and terms

A/N: this switches between povs a lot so i hope that’s okay or at least readable lol! also i set out to write him so much meaner but he’s just kind of a simp... enjoy?

reblogs are very much appreciated i'll uwu for u :pleading eyes emoji:

it is said that those who cannot do, teach. 

geto suguru could have done many things. he had the brains, the muscles, the features, the traits. the ambition to succeed in any field he desired. satoru says in a world ruled by the strong there is no place for humility. 

but humility is not why suguru became a teacher. neither is ineptitude. no, he’d become a teacher because it was the right thing to do. 

to use his gifts to help shape new generations, help unlock potentials long dorment and buried deep under years of a lackluster schooling system. geto suguru prided himself, above all, in being a righteous man. 

but japan’s most upstanding citizen for 28 years in a row held a shameful secret. a secret in the shape of you. 

he saw the darkest sides of himself on your face (eyebrows scrunched, eyes shut tightly, jaw slack as you—), your voice (higher in pitch with desperate moans that sound almost scared on the brink of your—), your body (taut and plump in all the right places, glistening with sweat, bouncing up and down on a—). 

when you walked into his classroom that fateful day, the world tilted on its axis. his first thought was, fuck, then, it can’t be, then, most embarrassing of all, i’ll finally find out what she smells like. 

(he did, when you went up to his desk to hand over your test. a whiff of vanilla, argon oil shampoo. too sweet, too youthful. and he’d watched you leave, tennis skirt flowing like a water lily, dick already chubby in his pants.)

it was slowly starting to consume him.

the first time you spoke in class, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. it was really you. the cute, slutty girl he’d been milking his cock to for the better part of a year. 

god, when you finally said his name. you would never in your wildest dreams think that he’d been imagining those words coming out of your mouth, of him coming out of your mouth, dripping out of you, all over you—

he was losing it. this was not like him. this was never supposed to happen, and he has to put an end to it. 

everybody knew of geto suguru, the prodigy professor. already getting a phd despite not even being 30, handling the administrative slack for the department while managing office hours every day of the week, promoting student events, helping organize spirit weeks and charity drives. 

everything he did, he did for others. those not as capable as him — which was most people. in other words, it was really, really hard to hate him. 

but you damn well managed to. 

and to think you were excited to take his class. everybody told you to run, not walk, to sign up for his twentieth-century Japanese philosophy chair. 

“oh, professor geto is just the best,” they’d said. “he makes it sound so interesting and engaging, he gives the most life changing assignments, he really cares about us.”

bullshit. 

the first time you stepped into that classroom, suspiciously full for a philosophy class, you felt a shift in the air almost immediately. 

and sure enough, professor geto suguru was eyeing you down like he’d just seen a ghost. it made you self conscious, like he’d taken one look at you and decided right then and there you were too dumb for the class. 

it made your blood boil. sure, you stood out a little bit from the actual philosophy majors, but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge you. he literally doesn’t know you!

but fine, first impressions are tricky like that. for all you knew, you could’ve been misjudging him right there. 

however, with each passing day, you grew more and more assured in your suspicions.

you knew the man had it out for you, always calling on you to answer when he knew you weren’t paying attention, never grading your papers above a B even though you did everything right, somehow managing to fucking avoid you during his excessive office hours. 

his looks were almost the most infuriating part of it.

his beautiful face constantly set in that nonchalant look, his big veiny hands always gesticulating, his huge fucking arms straining the fabric of those dress shirts, his ear gauges and man bun contrasting the prim and proper image the rest of him conveyed. 

under different circumstances, he’d make your mouth water. under different circumstances, you’d imagine him going down on you all night long, singing praise about how good you taste and how tight you are. 

but in this timeline, you absolutely loathed him. and he loathed you too. why? you didn’t know. 

but you knew for a fact that it was personal. 

“i don’t care,” megumi said around a mouthful of meatball, cutting your monologue short. “i’m not doing it.”

you sigh, melting into your chair. “megumi. please. i am literally begging you, i just need some hard evidence so i can go report his ass.”

he eyes you curiously. “report him for what?”

“i don’t know. bullying? sexism? whatever the hell his problem is,” you pick at your food, huffing in annoyance. 

“you’re overthinking it,” megumi replies, dismissively. 

“okay, how about this,” you lean forward, putting an elbow on the table. “if you write the assignment for me, i’ll get your dog that expensive halloween costume you’ve been wanting.”

megumi lifts an eyebrow. 

“you need to get one for each,” he says simply. 

you grin. “deal.”

suguru really does give it his all to make your life with him a living hell. pulls out all the stops, years of friendship with gojo satoru paying off as he comes up with ploy after ploy to get you to drop his class. 

it feels bad, being mean to you. but for the hidden, twisted parts of him, it feels delicious. 

watching you huff and puff, all hot and bothered when he corrects your answers on the spot. watching you nibble on your pen at the increasingly difficult exams he hands out. letting himself wonder if you missed a stream this week because you were too busy cramming for a make up test. 

he knows he’s pushing you to your limit, and even if there’s some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing you so agitated at his hands when it’s usually the other way around, he doesn’t enjoy upsetting you. 

the problem is, suguru knows it’s either he gets his shit together or he continues tormenting you, and, well. 

the spirit is willing but the flesh is so, so weak. 

he knows it’s getting worse, too, because he’s not infatuated by you only when you’re undressing on his screen, or all dolled up in class. 

when you tie your hair up in a ponytail, when you suck on a hangnail, when you lick your thumb to erase a smudge on your paper… all of it drives him wild. 

he can’t teach with a permanent half chub anymore. this has to end, one way or another. 

you sit down in front of your computer, adjusting the camera before turning it on. soon, viewers start trickling in, little dings notifying you of their messages. 

you smile, waving at the screen. 

“hi everyone! i know i’m a little bit late today, i hope you can forgive me…” your eyes scan the chat, giggling at the compliments. “‘you look tired, sad face’, ah. i’m sorry. i guess i’ve been a little stressed lately.”

your robe falls over your shoulder as you readjust your position. a few donations come in, accompanied by supportive messages.

“you guys are so nice. it’s not a big deal, it’s just this dude giving me a hard time at college.” 

you absentmindedly trace your collarbones, reading what your viewers are saying. 

“you’ll kill him for me? that’s so sweet,” you joke. “nah, it’s not a student. it’s a professor. exactly, ynlover444, a grown ass man picking on me!”

you sigh deeply, allowing your body to finally unwind and relax on your chair. you prop a knee up against the armrest, giving your viewers a little peek in between your legs. you’re wearing one of your favorite sets, trying to get in the mood after the week you’ve had. 

“ugh, sometimes i wish i could just…” you suck in a breath, clenching your hand into a fist before releasing it. “sit on his face and get him to shut up, you know?”

you laugh at the countless me firsts that flood the chat, bringing a finger to your lip. 

“anyway! enough about that horrible man,” you reach beside you to grab a box your viewers know all too well by now. “let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we?”

as always, satoru is no help. 

“why don’t you just fuck her?” he asks, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses. “ya gotta just fuck her.”

suguru clears his throat before taking a drag of his cigarette. “i’m not fucking a student.”

satoru shrugs. “everybody does it. besides, you basically already do.” 

suguru wonders, not for the first time, why he ever told his friend about his situation. about your streams, that he’d stumbled upon randomly and innocently and had gotten instantly hooked, about you barging into his classroom like an angel at hell’s gates, about you you you you, everything about you. 

“that won’t fix anything.”

satoru clicks his tongue, swirling his soda inside the can.

“poor, naive suguru. did you not just tell me about what she said on her stream?" and yes, regrettably, suguru had told him. "it’ll fix everything.”

suguru doesn’t even let himself consider it, except he does.

at this point it’s no secret that he’s thought about being inside you, but now that you’re here it’s just too real and too risky and completely fucking wrong. 

it goes against the entire life he’s built for himself. 

he’s lost. he wants you so fucking bad, wants you close, wants you so far away, wants to ravage you and never have to see you again. 

it’s fight or flight. if he got you alone, it could go either way, he realizes that. 

suguru wonders what part of him will win by the end of all of this. 

your heels clack on the linoleum floor of the hallway as you approach professor geto’s classroom, megumi’s graded paper clutched tightly against your chest. 

the thing about megumi is that he's a star student. he’s never gotten anything below an A on any of his essays, makes the dean’s list every year, tutors his seniors. so the big, bright B- on the page tells you everything you need to know. 

damn right it’s personal. 

you don’t even bother knocking, slamming the door open while still trying to contain your indignation. 

geto is sitting at his desk, piles of papers sprawled on top. he has his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a surprised look on his face that would be cute if you didn’t want to slap it right off. 

he says your last name like he’d been expecting you all his life.

“to what do i owe the pleasure?”

your jaw clenches as you take a few loud steps towards him. you slam megumi’s paper down on his desk, leaning over. 

“professor geto, i demand an explanation. a real one, this time.”

the man takes a deep breath, lips twisting disapprovingly. he smoothes the paper over.

“as i already explained in my notes right here, the structure is fine, but i couldn’t help but miss a more in-depth analysis of the four nodal concerns of philosophy that we talked about in class, such as—“

“no,” you interrupt. “just no. you know you’re bullshitting me and i’m sick of it. this paper deserved an A!”

“miss—“

“what’s your problem with me?” you spit out. your eyes finally meet and there’s nothing in geto’s that could answer your question. your chest is heaving, lips wobbling and hands shaking, trying to contain your anger. 

geto clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “like i said, your paper could’ve used a bit more—“

“no it fucking couldn’t have, because it’s not my fucking paper, it’s fushiguro’s fucking paper and the only reason you gave it a B is because i was the one who handed it in!”

he sits up, straightening his posture.

geto sounds austere when he asks, “do you realize how much trouble this could be for both of you if i reported it?”

you can’t believe this man. he’s been picking on you the entire semester and when you finally confront him about it this is what he chooses to focus on. 

“are you fucking kidding me?” that earns you a stern look from him, eyebrow raising taller than that fucking high horse he sits on. “professor geto. what did i ever do to you?”

there must be something earnest in your voice because geto sighs, getting up from his chair. 

he walks until he’s standing in front of you, leaning against his desk and crossing his feet. 

“do i bother you?” is all he says. it surprises you. 

you jut your chin out. “as a matter of fact, you do.”

the man hums. 

“i bet that’s really difficult for you,” he speaks like he’s sympathetic, like he understands. he sounds almost sheepish when he says, “i bet sometimes you wish i would just shut up.”

you blink rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. it might shock you but i genuinely do enjoy your class, it’s just that—“

“or maybe you wish you could shut me up,” he continues, ignoring you. “maybe going as far as to say that you could… sit on my face to get me to shut up.” 

your mouth goes dry.

before your brain can fully process the shift in the atmosphere or the fact that your professor is maybe possibly hitting on you, you realize where those words are coming from. 

it’s what you said. about him. on stream. right before fucking yourself on your hot pink dildo. 

you can’t speak, can barely even look in his general direction. 

you had really thought things couldn’t get any worse. had barged into his office with nothing to lose, almost hoping he would cordially invite you to remove yourself from his class permanently. 

but now? now you have no idea what’s going to happen to you. 

“i…” you start, the words dying in your throat. geto chuckles, crossing his fat fucking muscly arms across his chest. 

he says your name, low and syrupy. “is it true? you’d like to?”

you can feel your face flush hot in embarrassment, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing desperately that you’d never walked into his classroom. 

you have half the mind to apologize to him, right now.

“it’s just a figure of speech,” you try. geto clicks his tongue. 

“what a shame.”

your wide eyes shoot up and meet his. “w-what?”

he smiles sweetly. 

“it’s a peace offering. you can take it, or we can forget you ever said anything,” and isn’t he just so slimey, actually, when he’s the one who brought it up. he had said it, and now… 

now you can finally allow yourself to look at him.

those delicious, broad shoulders, the ever-present bored look, the stubborn fringe that falls out of his bun. 

you could so easily forget what you came here for. 

“so, like, a truce?” you ask, taking a daring step forward. geto nods, uncrossing his arms. “and you stop treating me like i’m fucking dumb?”

he tilts his head. “i think you’re a very smart young lady. determined. entrepreneurial…”

“geto—“

“professor geto,” he corrects you, hands reaching out to graze your hips. “you’re intelligent. i just like to push my students.”

you both know that’s a lie, but it’s okay, because now you know exactly why you got under his skin and it makes your own burn. 

you run a hand down the line of buttons on the front of his shirt, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“then… push me, professor.”

it’s so incredibly lame, the porn line you hit him with, but to your surprise it works, a low groan rumbling deep in geto’s chest. 

he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing your lips together. 

it’s ravenous, the way geto dips his tongue inside when you gasp in surprise. you moan against his mouth, slipping a leg in between his two. 

he’s half hard already when he rubs up against your thigh. 

geto picks you up with ease and sets you down on his desk, and it’s so fucking cliché, the papers crinkling under your weight, the pens clattering to the floor. but it turns you on beyond belief. 

you share a few open mouthed kisses, an exchange of tongue and moans and hot breaths between your lips. 

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've fantasized about it before. a silly idea, at first, something you'd just blurted out mid-stream.

but that little seed had been planted, and when you got yourself off that night, you might've imagined for a moment that it was your mean professor's cock squeezed tight inside you, making you come undone.

geto slips his hands under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. you line up your crotch with his, moving your hips in tight little circles that make the both of you groan. 

his fingers are tugging your underwear down, down, the soft patch sticking to your gooey cunt. he lets the soaked fabric dangle from your ankle, grazing the back of his knuckles on your core. 

“mmm, fuck,” geto breaks the kiss, swallowing. his pretty lips are flushed and shiny, parted around his panted breaths. “you always get this wet or am i special?”

he’s smirking, the bastard, leaning back in to kiss your neck.

god, you smell so good, like lotion and perfume and sunshine and sin. 

“shouldn’t you know?” you sneak your fingers up into his bun, pushing your chest against him. he works his lips expertly on your skin, using just the right amount of teeth, of pressure.

geto hums against your neck, kissing a line up to your jaw. he snakes a hand under your skirt, thumb pressing down hard to rub on your clit, two fingers slipping inside. 

you immediately clench, a soft, drawn out mewl leaving your lips. 

the slide of his fingers against your walls send a chill down your spine, filling you up so perfectly. you feel the thin skin at your opening stretch around him, burning at the friction as his fingers plunge in and out of you. 

“god, look at that,” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and pulls the hem of your skirt up. “do you hear that, baby? so fucking wet for me.”

you whine, hands cupping his jaw so you can kiss him again. 

“please…” you mumble against his lips. “more…”

you wonder how much of what you can say he's heard before, which exact words have left your lips and sent him over the edge. it makes you self conscious, oddly, like he can see right through you.

not-so-kindly ignoring your request, geto removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.

you watch as his eyelids flutter in pleasure, a hum rumbling low in his throat. 

he looks so good like this, just edible.

you pull him in for a kiss before he can, relishing in the surprised little noise he lets out. your knees are wobbling, feet dangling from your seat as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

he swallows your moan hungrily, forearms trembling with the need to hold back.

geto knows this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels, puts both your positions in jeopardy, it makes him feel perverted and primal and so fucking alive. 

he’s been watching you fuck yourself on those silly toys for god knows how long now, knows every spot that makes your hips buck, knows exactly how to make you cream like a debased slut around a cock. 

it should feel unfair, how easy it’s going to be for him to make you cum, only if it weren’t for the fact that your mere presence is enough to get him hard as fucking diamonds. 

“tastes good, huh?” he whispers, thumb caressing your chin. you nod, smiling devilishly. 

“tastes better on your tongue, prof.” 

geto groans low like a starved animal, holding your throat in his hand with a loose grip. he’s overwhelmed, that much shows, not knowing what to do with you or where to start. but there’s one thing he’s sure of. 

he presses one last kiss to your spit-slick lips before dropping to his knees. 

you can hardly believe it. sulky, big bad bully professor geto suguru on his knees for you. you prop a foot up on his desk, your sole skidding on a piece of paper. 

“scoot closer, please,” he asks, cordial even like this. you bring your ass to the edge of the desk, your dripping pussy hovering over his face. 

he looks so good under you, hair already disheveled, a delicious tent in his tailored pants. 

you tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistline so you can watch as he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning like he’s fucking relieved. 

you throw your head back, fingers buried in his silky hair as geto’s fingers find their way back inside. 

he fucks them in and out of you lazily, pushing out strings of slick. geto slurps it all up, spreading your wetness all over your clit and sucking it back in his mouth. 

god, his cock is straining in his pants but he doesn’t dare touch it, can’t until he’s inside you. you taste like fucking heaven, like all his fantasies, like he always knew you would. 

you’re whining softly, bucking your hips into his face almost shyly, as to disrupt his pace.

you sound so much better in person, although he can’t wait to have you moaning into his ear without needing the headphones. 

“god, this perfect pussy,” geto mumbles into you, his breathing labored. he runs a thumb all over your cunt, gliding it over your soaked lips. “been dreaming about it for so long.”

“yeah?” you ask. “tell me. tell me how you stroke your cock to me every night.”

and every night might be overselling it. geto is a busy man. 

but your words do make him realize that no girl he’s had since he found your stream has satisfied him quite like you do. your flirty smile, your moans, the way they sometimes turn into uncontained giggles as you stuff your pretty cunt with a dildo. 

so he tells you, blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“fuck, i do,” he tongues your clit, tracing lazy circles. “i do. just look what you do to me.“

and there it is, that cheeky, slutty giggle, directed at something he said this time. 

he takes his fingers out, spreading your opening with both thumbs as he licks you all over. 

geto gulps, tongue dipping inside of you, sucking your clit into his mouth, sliding down to your entrance, every clench of your pussy pushing out more and more slick for him. no one's ever eaten you out as thoroughly as this.

“oh, fuck, sir,” it slips out casually, the way it would were you talking to any other professor. but given the circumstances, you revel in the deep moan geto buries into your cunt. 

you trap your lips between your teeth to keep anything else from tumbling out, but it’s useless.

“please, sir, i’m so close—so close just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“

“fuck,” he mumbles, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. then, “fuck,” sultrier, right into your core. 

you grind against his face, finding purchase in his hair as a final few flicks of his tongue push you right into the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.

it’s so good, so much better than when you're alone. the friction so perfect, his long, thick fingers plugging you up last minute to viciously fuck into you. 

“god…,” you breathe out, legs trembling as he runs his hands up your thighs. 

his chin is glistening, bubbles of spit and cum gathering in the corner of his mouth. he looks so good like this, like he was meant to please you and nothing else. 

geto feels like a fucking teenager, so goddamn close to busting in his pants at the sight of you. his dick hurts, balls tight and the head throbbing where it’s tucked into his underwear. 

“please, sweetheart,” he can’t hold himself back any longer, slick fingers already undoing his belt. 

you get to work on his zipper, pulling his pants down along with his underwear and damn. 

you figured he was big. he was a tall man, broad shoulders, shoes the size of a yacht, and the bulge in his trousers was a pretty good indication. but it couldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of him. 

longer than it is thick, cleanly shaven, pretty veins and ridges and standing angry red in attention. god, you want it inside you. 

he notices you looking. 

“do you need more prep? i can—“

“no, fuck no, suguru, need it inside me now,” you wrap a hand around him and he hisses, caging you in with his arms on the desk. 

he huffs out a laugh, blowing the fringe framing his face. “what happened to sir?”

you kiss down his jaw, squeezing right below his tip. 

“sorry, sir,” you say against his ear. “are you going to punish me for my slip up?”

geto groans, pulling on your hair hard and making you face him. 

“take your shirt off for me,” he instructs, and you obey, maneuvering around his tight grip on the back of your head. 

his spirit is so unbreakable.

here you are, teasing him, coaxing him to rough you up, push you around, relieve both your frustrations properly once and for all, but he’s just so… adoring, and hungry, and just so irrevocably into you, and you find out that’s so much better. 

geto relents his hold on you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. you whine, caressing his hair. 

“so fucking perfect,” he massages your tits, looking mesmerized. 

“yeah? they haven’t gotten old to you yet?”

he laughs, so cute, and you can barely remember that just hours ago you hated the sight of him. you stroke his cock up and down, squeezing harder at the tip trying to milk all that delicious pre he’s been wasting on the inside of his boxers. 

“no, f-fuck—never gonna get old,” he pushes your boobs against each other, imagining his cock sliding in between them, his balls nestled underneath, his load blown all over your pretty face—

fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps going like this. 

he rips your hand away from him, ignoring your knowing smirk and pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

“i’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart?” you moan, nodding, shimmying your hips so he can have the perfect angle. 

a big hand clasps your thigh to wrap your leg around his hips as his tip pokes around your entrance.

you’re whining in anticipation, clenching around nothing, nails clawing his clothed back. 

when he slips in, it feels like coming home. you’re like warm honey around him, cunt pushing him out but clinging to him at the same time, with every stroke. it’s fucking maddening. 

“ahh, g-god, sir, ‘s too big—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat, feeling the tip of his cock in your guts. 

he’s huffing, concentrated, bullying his cock into you inch by inch with shallow thrusts until he finally bottoms out. 

“fuuuuck, angel,” he grips your waist with both hands, like he could just fuck you up and down his length if he wanted to. “took me so well, look at that.”

you do, dropping your heavy head to look at where you’re connected. you clench around him and he whines, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. 

the metal legs of the desk skid on the floor, papers and pens raining down to the floor as geto starts roughly plunging in and out of you. 

you let out little ah, ah, ahs in time with his strokes, the ache deep in your stomach finally starting to fade. 

“f-fuck, you’re gonna—topple us over, suguru, go easy—“

“can’t,” he chokes out, wheezing as he pushes his cock in as far as it can go. 

he gives shallow little thrusts, his length straining the fine skin at your entrance so good, hitting a spot inside you over and over that makes your head spin. 

your fingers twist into the back of his shirt, pulling him in to whine right into his ear.

he’s so big, stretching you out so thin that you feel every ridge and vein, can feel both your heartbeats inside your cunt. 

“ohhhhh fuck, fuck sir, please please touch me—“

he grabs your ass before you can even finish your sentence and presses you flush against his hips. 

geto’s tip is kissing your cervix now, his balls sticky and creamy against your ass, your clit grinding against his pubic bone as his thrusts violently shake the both of you. 

“fuck, wanna do it so fucking loud but i can’t, we can’t, what if someone walks in—“

you moan wantonly at his words, expecting to be chided, but geto seems to love it despite his worries because his cock kicks deliciously inside of you.

“look how loud you’re being, listen to yourself,” he grunts out, the belt pooled around his feet clanging with every stroke, the absolutely lewd squelches from your pussy resonating in the entire classroom. 

you two sound so good together, better than you’ve ever had, better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

“so loud, so wet on this cock,” he spits out, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “do those toys make you feel this good? this full? answer me.” 

“hahh, n-no, no one but you,” you can’t think straight, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes squeezed shut. “only you, sir.”

geto whines like he’s aching, pounding into you mercilessly and making a mess under the two of you. 

“fuck yeah, that’s right. i’m making you feel good, baby?”

“mm-hm,” you mumble, tongue lolling out. geto's going so hard now, has you pressed up so tight against him, body caging you in, fucking every breath and thought right out of you. “close.”

“yeah?” he speeds up his effort slightly, and you’re sure he’s going to have desk-edge shaped bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “gonna cum on my cock? cream all over me?”

you let out a long, drawn out whine, tits bouncing up and down with the force of geto’s thrusts. 

“let me see your face when you cum, darling,” he cups the back of your neck, breathing hard through his nose. “keep your eyes on me. that’s right, sweetie, so good, you’re doing so good.”

you preen at the praise, feeling suddenly self conscious with the man's laser focus attention on you. 

you coo out little noises, growing in desperation, holding onto his biceps for dear life as his hips piston in and out of you. 

your pull him into you closer and rub your clit against him, grinding helplessly as your orgasm creeps closer and closer. 

the moment you open your eyes and meet his hungry ones, you’re cumming. your walls spasm around him, making the glide of his dick impossibly wetter with your release. 

geto chokes on a sound, his cock hostage of your pussy’s vice-like grip as your greedy cunt milks him for all he's got. 

“f-fuck, baby, look so pretty when you cum, always look so fucking sexy so fucking perfect that you’re gonna make me bust, i’m gonna cum for you god gonna cum inside, gonna blow my load all deep inside this pussy—“ 

it’s the most desperate he’s ever sounded, speaking through clenched teeth and a soaked mouth. you moan in return, letting him use you. 

he slams his forehead down your shoulder when he thrusts once, twice, three times and cums, his balls drawing up so tight that it hurts. he fucks it into you with shallow thrusts, panting, almost wheezing in pleasure. 

it feels like it lasts forever, his orgasm. like all of the blood in his body goes straight to his balls to push out the thickest, most satisfying nut of his life into the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

you feel it fill you up so good, hear it, too, squelching and sticking to both of you. 

geto’s body slumps against yours and you stay like that for a while, catching your breaths. there’s cum sliding out of you, down his balls, onto some poor student’s essay you have your ass on top of. 

when he pulls out of you, he takes a beat to watch it spill out of you some more, his face and chest red, his smile groggy. 

“god, this,” geto has to fight the urge to say thank you for letting him fuck your brains out. he swallows. 

“yeah,” you blink away the haze, feeling sore and fucked out. “this.”

“…is probably going to happen again, right?”

he knows it shouldn’t. he knows it will.

maybe both parts of geto can learn to coexist.  

you grin, touching the tip of your tongue to his lips. 

“well, i still haven’t made good on that promise of sitting on your face, have i?” 

the next morning, in class, the students erupt in happiness at the news that professor geto had an accident that ended up ruining most of last week’s graded papers he had in his possession. 

so he decided to give everyone an A for their troubles. 

and finally, finally, there was peace in the world.

[unheavenlyvision]

can you write something about brat tamer toji punishing reader for a day full of brattiness by manhandling and overstimulating them? this isnt in your will write or wont write but can you add daddy kink in there?

₊⁺ જ⁀➴💌 i sure can and did ! >:3 it's short but longer than my other drabbles ! i personally don't love daddy kink and don't have it in myself to write it fully but i did a little bit of what i can bear 💗 thank you sm for your ask and i hope you like it ! have a beautiful day/night 💗

꒰꒰mdni // masterlist꒱꒱

Toji punishing you in a deliciously cruel kind of way, his voice dark and gruff when he speaks to you, tone agitated, “Never behave do you? Can’t fucking help yourself.”

His hand harsh on the back of your neck, holding you down, your back arched meanly while he fucks into you from behind. Toji can’t help but bite his lip at the way you grip him, your cunt creaming around him, your past orgasms making his cock so slick and shiny. Trying to suppress his noises so you can’t tell just how much he’s enjoying himself.

You’re out of your mind, words slurred and coming slow between moans, “Mm sorry! Ah!– I– hnn– I didn’t mean to upset you– hah–”

“See,” he’s leaning down, mouth right next to your ear as he spits, “I think you did; I think you annoyed me all day just so you’d end up right here.”

He clocked you so easily, knowing what you were doing as soon as you started pissing him off all those hours ago. He can’t say he’s overly disappointed in you though, he loves taking you like this as much as you do.

“Noo, I wouldn’t–”

“–We both know you would,” he cuts you off.

His hammering pace suddenly stops, stuffing you full to the hilt of him, shallowly grinding into you but not much more. He’s able to feel the way you pulse around him, groaning at the snug fit of your pussy.

You whinge and wiggle your hips back into him, trying and failing to fuck yourself onto his cock. You need him to keep going, to do anything, but he only bites into your shoulder, a light punishment for your complaints.

“You need it that bad, baby?” his voice holds a kind of mirth that makes your skin prick, “Fine.”

He has two fingers on your clit before you can even register his threatening compliance, circling it insistently. You twitch and jolt under him, halted by his hand pressing into your upper back. So sensitive, everything feels hot, your toes curling and feet kicking into the mattress as you gasp out whines.

His cock throbs desperately inside you at the way your cunt pulses and leaks all over him, loving how you struggle against the pleasure. Already so overstimulated and he knows that, he likes pushing you to your limits.

Prying an orgasm out of you without moving his hips, only letting his fingers slip all over your clit until you’re trying to milk his cock. Muscles pulling taut as you cum all over him, Toji moans at it before chuckling breathlessly.

“Fuuuck– look at that,” he clicks his tongue, “Sometimes I think I’m too nice to you.”

Not really registering anything of what he’s saying, not when his fingers are tapping on your clit just to make you jerk under him at every touch.

Pouting out at him, “You’re so mean to me…”

“What do you mean?” you can practically hear the smile you know he’s wearing, “Daddy’s always so nice to you.”

You groan at him, “Ugh, shuddup.”

He laughs at your reaction but doesn’t miss the way your cunt jumps at his words, “Think you liked that a little more than you’re willing to admit.”

Shaking your head back at him in response, going to say something bratty in reply only to gasp and claw at the sheets when he starts fucking into you again. Fast and hard, almost driving you up the bed with how frenzied his thrusts are.

His hands are moving to your hips, using his new grip to fuck you like some kind of toy built for his pleasure. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, he always knows just how to fuck you into insanity, or stupidity.

“Close again? So soon?” He’s teasing you, though he’s breathless as he does, “That’s a little pathetic.”

So many orgasms forced out of you over the course of the night with him that you think he could look at you and you’d cum. “Toji– Ah! Ah! It’s too much–”

“–Should’ve thought about that before you acted the way you did,” he muses, not even a little bit mad anymore. And how could he be? You’re always so pliant when he’s fucking you, it’s something he delights in greatly.

The slick slapping sounds reverberating in the room are obscene, your moans just as loud, no doubt you’re going to wake up to a noise complaint from an angry neighbour again. Your nails dig into the sheets, bracing yourself against your next orgasm.

Fresh tears slipping from your eyes and down your cheeks at the force of it, whines pulled from your chest as your pussy spasms around Toji’s cock for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Such a good little thing,” he fucks you through it, “Only time you’re so well behaved is when I’m balls deep in you, I fuck you that good?”

You’re too busy trying to stay conscious to really be aware of what he’s saying, settling for dumbly nodding at him and mumbling out, “Mhm.”

The state he’s fucked you into is the last straw for him, cock twitching pitifully before he’s cumming inside your tight, little cunt. Painting your walls white and continuing his thrusts even if he’s overstimulating himself to do it.

He’s sounding fucked out himself when he asks, “Are you sorry for today, or do we need to do this all again from the beginning?”

[nouearth]

nsfw alphabet w/ bruce wayne.

bruce wayne x male reader.

a/n: something new i've been meaning to try, so thank you for this request for finally pushing me to do so!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

we all know bruce is a busy man. it's an unfortunate norm to wake up in the morning to his side of the bed and see nothing but the wrinkles of the bed sheets that once warmed his body; to visit him at work because he forgot lunch (again) and wait in his office because he was currently in another meeting; to watch him with exhaustion and worry in the night while he scans through evidence files regarding a new criminal case.

in short, it's exhausting to even think about putting yourself in his shoes, and bruce wonders how you managed to stay with him for so long. it's not his fault, though, and you tell him that through sweet whispers in his ears when he's feeling down, through a simple doting embrace when he falls asleep during the rare occurrence you two could watch a movie together. and he's grateful to have someone like you.

whenever you two had sex, bruce would make sure he took his time with you. he doesn't stop until his body is spent, until your body is wrecked from the love and lust he has for you, and when you two finally finish after a series of rounds, he holds you close. breathing, panting—floating because he lost count in how many times he had come in your wrecked hole.

he spoons you, your back to his sweaty chest, refusing to pull himself out of your hole (at least until his cock goes limp), and he likes having his palm over your own chest to remind him that you're still here. your heart runs an electrifying marathon, then slowly comes to a calming jog because he adores your body, caressing and allowing his hands to roam free wherever he pleases. he loves feeling every tremor your body would retrieve as he dozed you off with a slurry of languid kisses across your nape, then the melt of your muscles the closer he holds you, and when you've fallen asleep and let slumber press your full weight into him, he does the same—because you're safe now.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

not to sound like a pervert, but bruce really loves your thighs. whether they were exposed in those shorts you like to wear inside the manor or deliciously full and contained in those dress pants he brought for you; he always had his hand on your lap. whenever he needed your attention and you were sitting next to him, he would squeeze your thigh because you were ticklish there. whenever you two went out to eat, he preferred sitting next to you because your thigh was the toastiest furnace for his hand. he just liked how... complex your thighs were. soft and malleable to touch yet toned and firm when he suckled on the flesh. not to mention, they were the perfect handles whenever bruce went down on your cock and sucked you off.

for bruce, he's quite proud of his shoulders. they've always been broad since he was younger, but with intense training, they've only gotten larger and broader since then. and he's glad that he isn't alone in this inclination. whenever bruce was stressed, you'd massage his shoulders until he snapped out of his migraine and turned to thank your presence with a kiss. and of course, bruce's shoulders weren't for purely aesthetics. they were also extremely useful, practically acting as your own bike handles, as you rode his cock. they provided you balance and leverage as you worked a sweat on riding out his orgasm inside of you, until your ass was thickly filled with his warm seed. and even that, that doesn't stop you from stopping and milking him out.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

god, when it came to you, he is obsessed with your cum. he's completely enthralled how much cum could come out of you simply from him fucking you, and it was why he preferred you riding him, or at least on his lap, so he could have the best view of your cock spitting out thick loads of cum and fuck, splash zone much? he loved how warm it was when you would spray across his face, even his face at times as he proceeded to fuck you harder. and knowing that it would make you blush and whine, he loved scooping your cum up off his body and tasting you. nowhere near sweet like fantasies have endorsed, but perfectly and deliciously edible on his tongue, to the point where he makes sure he'll be sucking you off clean before you doze off.

for bruce, he loves the sight of his cum anywhere on your body. in your ass, on your back, between your thighs, every place imaginable was a turn on. but if he had to pick, fuck... coming on your face was a true delight that would beckon him for another round simply from watching your features get layered and layered with his thick loads. it was dirty, erotic, and demeaning, especially as you waited for his loads on your knees, but fuck—he couldn't get enough of it. he couldn't get enough of decorating you in his own musk.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

it's all about taking control for bruce. whether it's him as the caped crusader or him in bed, bruce likes being treated as someone respectable, someone with honor, someone with authority. and when it came to you, he likes being called sir.

on some occasions, it would be your secret code for him if you were horny and needed to go somewhere private with him in public.

feeling a little famished, sir. hm? couldn't quite hear you. sir, i said i'm feeling famished. now get in the bathroom before someone takes— okay, okay! geez.

on many occasions, bruce would use it to his advantage and tease you in bed. the tip of his cock would barely graze your pucker, tracing and circling the tender flesh with a covet for your begging. c'mon, tell me what you want. use the right words. f-fuck, please. i n-need your cock, sir. louder. i need you to speak clearly. sir! please! sir! i need you cock!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

they weren't wrong when the media labelled him as a 'playboy'. although, he had definitely settled down by the time he met you; earlier on, it was nonstop hook-ups with majorly women. for men, he'd leave it at blowjobs and nothing more. but hey, despite his inexperience with men, a hole was a hole, right? as long as it took his cock without any pushback, there was no complaint! besides, there was little difference in pleasuring women and men. he even found it exciting to learn from you, to learn with you, in how to give each other the best pleasurable one could offer.

you could proudly boast that you were the first one to put a finger in bruce's ass. and perhaps, convince him to put something else inside of him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

it's already been mentioned before, but bruce loves having you on his lap. not because of laziness or anything, but he truly loves your body and how incredibly vulnerable it had become as you fuck yourself on his cock. it was a culmination of your body putting on a performance for him and showing off his favorite parts about you, exposing it and further enticing bruce to do whatever he wanted to you, with every single bounce.

the bounce of your cock and pecs in rhythm with your hips, fucking yourself down on his cock; the droplets of sweat covering your skin in a greasy yet glorious sheen that could make him cream inside of you right then and there; the change in your expressions whenever bruce began fucking up into you instead, meeting your own hips in a steady and quick pace. his arms hurt from straining his own weight, but fuck was it worth it when you came all over him in thick, long spurts.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

bruce isn't usually humorous in bed. rather, he finds enjoyment in teasing you through a mixture of his demands and his actions. what always worked was pulling his cock out until only the plump tip was nearing its exit, and he always found amusement in how quick desperation came to possess your body and thoughts as you'd wiggle your ass back in attempt to shove him back inside.

mm-mm, what's the word? p-please, sir!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

since you've known bruce, he had always maintained a very tidy and orderly appearance, probably because he was constantly in the spotlight since he was a kid, and his groin completely mirrored that upbringing. rather than completely going bare, he likes leaving enough hair to provide you a preview of what's to come after the first few centimeters of trimmed hairs—an appetizer before the main course, he reckoned.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

with how much work and his second persona has taken over his life, that left little time with you, and he feels absolutely guilty about it. it depends on the mood, but whether you two were engaged in rough or vanilla sex, bruce made sure to stick close to you. lace his fingers into between yours, have his mouth on your body at all times, mark you and kiss you wherever he hadn't, remind you how much he missed you, how much he loved you, how you were only his. fuck, he was possessive, and you found that incredibly romantic as much as it was suffocating at times. he made sure you praise you, to remind you how beautiful you looked taking his cock like this.

and before he falls asleep, he'd always whisper in your ear that he loves you, even if slumber had already taken you as hostage and stripped you away from the comfort of his assurance.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

bruce tries his best from jacking off, especially since he knows how much more gratifying it is to have you clench around him; to have you on your knees and swallow his cock down. but fuck, you were a tease. you loved sending him thirst traps whenever you knew he would be swamped up in a day full of meetings, and you knew you'd successfully infiltrated his mind when he would dislike your message with a thumbs down.

though, thanks to bruce sending you countless videos of him rubbing himself through his pants, you were left with little imagination on how bruce was spending his short break.

bruce has never been so thankful for you in his life. it took some convincing to get bruce on board with filming himself fucking you. and ever since then, bruce no longer had to rely on the memories of your warm touch, of your sweaty scent, of your whimpers as he blue-balled himself in his office.

right then and there, he'd whip his cock out from the zipper of his pants, and jacked off to the most recent video between you and him on his phone. and not to toot his own horn, but fuck was bruce a great director. up-close shots of your body, glistening under a layer of your own hot sweat, followed by thick droplets from bruce's. the flash on his phone made it so much more erotic, like an amateur porno, as it would focus on his cock driving deep into your ass from his perspective, his groans rumbling intimately over the speakers. bruce's abdominal muscles would flex and his core would engage as he mustered another strength to power through exhaustion, fueled by your begs and whimpers for him to fuck you harder, and fuck, it was better than porn. to recount and watch how he wrecked you that night made him bust multiple thick loads, and unfortunately soil his pristine suit.

to which, you'd most definitely pay for, one way or another, when he gets home from work.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

remember when i mentioned bruce liked having control? well, that definitely comes into effect when he's rough-housing you. only if you're in the mood of course (and you were always in the mood), but there's something so gratifying to him when he has his hand around your neck, your skin blooming under the warmth, squeezing harder and harder as he's fucking you into the bed. being rough with you also goes hand-in-hand with his praise kink, singing you low and sweet affections in your ear while you're taking his cock like you've always meant to.

that's it, fuck. good boy. like that? you like that?fuck, your sweet hole loves that.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

he'd love to be more experimental, but unfortunately that has to account for his schedule and for the most part, you two mostly have sex in bed. if not, it was a little quickie in his office. which isn't bad, but the idea of his temptation wearing his patience thin and just absolutely ravishing you in his car, or in a bathroom some place, had run through his mind multiple times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

as much as bruce knew that you dreaded it, there was a reason why he insisted on you coming to his charity galas. it was those god-damn suits he'd buy for you and it would be the only time he'd think to himself that the money was well-spent, if it even mattered to him.

bruce, i don't think i need another suit. what's wrong with the ones you got me two years ago?

out of style, out of season. see, i told you there's a reason why we don't follow trends.

it was distracting. it was the rare times where you'd look completely different from your normal self. your hair in a different style. your suit tailored according to your build. your confidence covertly reviving because you didn't want to admit that you actually really liked looking like this. your forearms breaching free when you rolled up your sleeves, and fuck, it was so seductive. if bruce hadn't dressed you and helped out with the styling, he'd assume you'd come from old money.

sometimes he'd regret it because all eyes were on you, on bruce's man, and it was a complete nuisance dealing with drunk patrons attempt to flirt with you as if you could even understand anything they were saying with their limp tongue in the way of their speech.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do)

listen, bruce is down for anything, but he doesn't exactly get wax play. maybe he's been almost set on fire too many times to count, but the idea of accidentally burning your skin because he poured too much or something makes him freak out. it was more about the discomfort regarding your safety, than his overall distaste for it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill,)

bruce doesn't admit it, but in your words, he's pretty selfish. not in a bad way because he always makes it up to you afterwards, but it was the control thing coming to play again. you suck him off first, and then he'll reward you with his own mouth if it was deemed worthy enough (you know it's a bluff, but it's always fun to play along).

he loves seeing you take his cock. it feels like almost every other day where you're down on your knees and sucking him off, and he hasn't gotten tired of it yet. you know where his cock like no one else, know where he was the most sensitive, how he liked it sloppy and dripping from your spit. it was a fucking turn on to see you so devoted to pleasuring him.

for giving, he's better at rimming than giving you blowjobs. for the most part, he hates that gagging feeling whenever he barely took his cock in your mouth, and you'd always tease him for it, making him blush profusely. he's never been bad at something, even if you don't say it, so he makes it up in devouring your ass like it's been a week since he's had proper food. like your blowjobs, he likes having you dripping in spit, your musky hole wet and tender from the amount of turns he's had licking and fucking you with his tongue. and the way you pushed your ass out and arched into the back as he buried his nose in between your cheeks discovered a new kink of his: asphyxiation.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

for the most part, it depends on his mood and energy. if it was a stressful day, he expects you to let him wreck your body until it was spent and pliant beneath him. to properly get him off, he needed the most lewd sounds to come out of your mouth; the writhe in your body because he got a little carried away at first but you then slowly adjusted yourself to; the friction of the sheets burning at his knees; he needed you hard and your body was going to feel the consequences the next morning. and then there are days where bruce wants to take his time with you, worship your body with the hands you would always hold onto whenever you felt at unease; with the mouth you would always latch onto with your own whenever you needed to renew vitality; with his body you would always safeguarded yourself in no matter how you were feeling because you knew bruce never failed to protect you. his thrusts would slow, languid but never lazy as he liked keeping you on your toes and hitting you at the deepest spot with a sudden rut, and then measured again as he pulled himself out, watching his cock throb and watching your hole take all of his love in with no objection.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often)

quickies were never as satisfying as the time fully spent with you, but it got the job done. usually on days where he was the most stressed and needed to let something out, he'd call you over to the office for lunch and where you were expecting to eat your steamy leftovers with him, you ended up bent over his office desk, naked from the waist below, taking bruce's frustration up for the day. not that you were complaining, though. he always extended his lunch to properly eat with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks)

bruce is pretty content with his sex life with you. if you mentioned something about a new kink or wanting to experiment, he'd take up the entire night or two researching up about it, studying it methodically to ensure nothing wrong can happen and how to handle the situation if it does.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

the man can go all night, have you seen his training regime? and the best part is? you let him have his way with you with multiple rounds despite usually being the one to cum first, and it would be a norm to have you coming again in the same night.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them?)

he owns very little toys, no other reason being than bruce wanting you to rely on his dick for pleasure only. he wants you dependent on it, so there's a pretty big chance you might offend him if you suggest a phallic-type toy.

why the hell do you want a dragon dildo?! fifteen inches?!?! jesus christ—am i not big enough or something?!

what—no! didn't you say you liked seeing me struggle?! if anything, it's for YOUR own pleasure, bud. geez...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

bruce loves teasing you. to be honest, who in the world doesn't love teasing their partner? it's adorable to see you try to squirm away from him when he's hugging you from behind while you're doing whatever and kissing the shell of your ear, then slipping his hand down your pants to feel how hard your dick had gotten from the most minuscule action. and fuck, when he throws in a little verbal play to remind you about how your dick is his and no one else's; you'd be thinking about it for the rest of the day, at least until bruce left for work and you were back onto his bed, sprawled out and whimpering as you spilled multiple loads over your tummy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

there's something extremely sexy in a way that bruce tries to contain his volume through gritted teeth. it was intimate the way lust unveiled himself. hushed groans in your ear, biting into your earlobe then neck to keep himself from moaning out loud, and fuck, he'd tremble from how much pleasure you were giving him. it would be reflected through his breaths, ruptured as he panted in your mouth during a kiss.

and you were so fucking proud when the moment he disposed a load inside of you, he couldn't help but gush out a deep, guttural moan from within, one that would shake you to your core, and possessed you to spill your own load simply from the sound of his relief.

W = Wild Card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

if bruce had all day with you, he'd want to spend it dry-humping you, specifically in suits. he saw it in a movie once, two men gyrating each other while one was on the other's lap, and it was even hotter than two nude men blowing each other off. and fuck, was he right. there was nothing more infuriating than seeking for pleasure that could be more gratifying. he'd angle his hips, you'd angle yours, and you two would rub, hump into each other's cocks, grind against one another with a steady rhythm while he stilled your head for an equally heavy make-out session. you'd beg for him to just take you right then and there, rip your clothes off and everything, but no. bruce doesn't and never does, and he persists, relieving your aching cock with his own until you two stain the inside of your dress pants, a deep and thick wet spot forming at the center of the trousers afterwards.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

bruce would be above average, but definitely not hung like most people assume, and you liked that. it was perfectly fit for your body and most importantly, bruce knew how to utilize that thing. he dug deep, made sure you feel every inch, and fuck, his heavy balls holding his thick cum-loads were the cherry on top of your desires for him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

sex would be the first thing on his mind whenever bruce is stressed. maybe not so much when he's pummeling down criminals, but more so in his daily life where he's swamped in meetings and talking with shareholders. i mean, is it his fault that you looked so good frying up eggs this morning? you had absolutely no reason to, especially when sleep was still laced in your face.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

bruce has always been a nocturnal animal. even when you've fallen asleep first and nothing but the sounds around him were a droning brown noise specifically curated to lull him to sleep, he'd still remain awake for a while before falling asleep. there was too much on his mind, even if he had emptied it out inside of you. overwhelming thoughts came in as quick as they came out, and luckily, you were there to be the support he needed.

the soft snores of your slumber were evidence that you felt safe with him, a reminder that you were able to sleep like this because he did a fucking great job in keeping you away from danger, and he hoped it would remain that way as he snuggled into you, holding you close to his chest as if tomorrow could change the trajectory of fate.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[nanabrainrot]

Five to Ten Fingers

You have a thing for holding hands. He has a thing for holding hands with you. You always know when to do it.

Homelander/F!Reader | insinuated established relationship, fingering, beta free. No use of pronouns but reader has a pussy. Drabble bc I lazy </3

Babbling, bucking, and broken, John fucks your pussy nonetheless. It was a fixation, obsession, to watch you like this; coo at the way you twitched on his lap with his fingers pumping you full. Getting to know you meant getting to know your pussy. Getting you to cum was an easy task now and barely even a feat in his eyes - it only mattered how much he made you cum.

The hum of the television, ginormous and hosting an angelic ever changing projection of color on your naked torso across his lap, is loud enough to keep that constant rurr of background noise but not loud enough to compete with the cacophony of sounds spilling out of you. The sound of your socked feet pushing against the sofa’s fabric as you kicked your feet involuntary as your nerve endings fired unwittingly everywhere. The sound of your cunt, squelching loud gushy sounds as his fingers pumped into your groin. The sweet, sweet sound of your pleading. Unintelligible, broken, and stupid.

Your hands kept searching for something, grabbing at the blanket with a vice grip, his pajama pants, his evening tee, whining with each contact until you find something: his hand. His left hand had settled near your shoulder a bit ago, stroking at the skin as he milked you of everything you could give.

You find the skin and the clarity is there for a second, a moment, as your head falls back as your hands start to draw his hand to your chest. Not to toy with your tits but to leave it there - hands wandering up his forearms and stroking the skin of it, then wandering to his hand.

The thick veins pushed at his skin. Apricot, peachy skin and the undertone of greenish veins under it. His hair was yellowy, brownish. Eyes a hue of blue only found in colored pencils, gouaches, watercolors - something only manmade which made sense for him. Beyond human. Beyond reason. The muscles of his chest in his home clothes, a tank that was ribbed and thin, off white. His lips, a thin line of mauve smirking. Teeth like pearls. Hands like a bear trap - open and capable of breaking. Made for breaking.

Bear trap or what, you hand clambers into his. Graceless, needy. Gripping pathetically like it was a rope and you were descending into a valley of death. Needy. Desperate.

“Homelander saves the day!” The television hums, the planes move by. Humming, sounds all aware to him with supersonic ears. They mean nothing. White noise. The sound of gushing, socks on the sofa, panting. Whining.

His favorite noise: “John!” You croon like you’re crying now. A weepy sound, tears slipping down your face. With your eyes screwed shut, you don’t see the smirk change, his eyes soften.

“One more, okay?” he coos, your back arching off his lap. You cried, but nodded and sniffled. Then second favorite sound: the sound of you cumming.

[tarjapearce]

What is Mama an Miguel’s fave sex position?

Jsksj omg nonny. NSFW undercut

Miguel absolutely LOVES Doggy style. Specially when he presses your head further into the mattress, muffling your cries and your ass is displayed before him in all it's glory.

He loves watching his fat cock slide in into your weeping pussy, stretching to his girth cause you feel so perfectly warm and tight for him, and he loves watching his cum rolling down your clit.

Missionary is another one of his favorite. Specially when he's feeling particularly romantic and want to enjoy you thoroughly. It's one of his favorites cause he gets to see all of your expressions while he's inside you.

He loves loves so badly when you're cupping his cheeks, mumbling how much you love eachother within blown breaths and pants as he wraps your legs around his waist. Eye contact is a MUST. He'll kiss you nonstop until you look at him in the eyes. And he can cradle you as you come undone underneath him.

He relishes into feeling your despair for him. That consuming need only he sates, leaving you both begging for air, disheveled and his front strands colliding against your forehead. It's so intimate. And you calling him Mi amor in that sweet moaning voice during?

He really means it when he tells that you have no idea the things you do with his mind.

The Spider. C'mon. What a better position to have him underneath you just for him to see how well you take him? And when you're extra needy, he'd lean back and enjoy the show, looking how well you fuck yourself to him and talking you through it. Controlling the pace.

Reverse Cowgirl cause, yeah, it morphs into doggy style. Plus he just lose it as soon as he sees your ass jumping and bouncing ontop of him, taking him like a champ. He loves watching the size of his hands groping and squeezing your ass.

When he's extra needy and kinky, He'd slap any surface he can reach while plumbing your insides, specially when you beg him to not be gentle.

As for Mama, needless to say, Mama loves it rough, but also enjoys a good vanilla from time to time.

Mating press is on the top list cause you love feeling the teasing stretch of Miguel inch by inch as he delves inside. His 6'9" caging you completely in his strong frame makes your orgasm mind shattering. Some even have you laughing like a total fool while he renewes your walls white.

The Prone Bone, works wonders, specially if you're tired but in need of your beefy man to rearrange your guts, specially after a stressful day on both ends. He loves when you're biting either the pillow or sheets

Flatiron is your own version of the missionary. Having such a fine man as your husband to talk both the sweetest things and pure filth in your ear while he smothers you with his body, specially when he cradled and embraces you to then bite your earlobe, and sets the pace for a slow and torturing tempo.

You live for his whimpers and wanton moans as you squeeze him, making your walls to snug him in a Pompoir choke. He can feel everything, and so do you.

Hearing him a moaning and grunting mess above you makes your imagination and senses to soar in delight.

The L, is perfect to have your insides well plowed and milked while Miguel kisses your ankle and thigh. Plus, it grants you a good clit massage from your husband.

You're somehow flexible, given Miguel's size, your muscles have accustomed to his manhandling and melding.

Against the wall? Of course. Having no room to breath properly while he fucks the daylights out of you is simply delicious and oh so kinky if you're doing it in the laundry room, mouth covered and hoping that Gabi doesn't knock on.

The thrill of being absolutely quiet to the point of your pussy and it's continuous 'zrup-ing' noises were heard every time he slid in, was matchless.

His neck was full of bites and his chest adorned with little hickeys. His back with delicious scratches, he wore proudly underneath his button shirt.

Whenever you used sweaters or pants, meant that he had left your inner thighs marked with either his own share of lovebites and fangs grazing. Only to remove your clothes at night to admire his handiwork and look for new places to put them in.

[igotanidea]

five more minutes: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

I'm (not) sorry, but that smug face fits right into this fanfiction!!

request/summary: Dick getting clingy when the reader needs to go somewhere

A/N: so, I think I'm back? Two weeks break and I'm getting into the swing of things again, so please go easy on me with this story......

***

When she wakes up in the morning something seems off almost instantly.

It only takes a second to realise that said thing took the form of Dick Grayson, her beloved boyfriend, the man by day and the fearless vigilante by night. The protector of Gotham and its people.

Well, if only the people could see him now.

Sleeping in a weird position with the imprint of the pillow on his cheek, messy hair and some dried saliva in the corner of his mouth.

He so cute and adorable like that. Y/N does the quick scan of his face and body in the search for any injuries he might have obtained during the patrol but her heart rests easy when she noticed him being all in one piece with no blood or stiches. Either it was a quiet and peaceful night or he already took care of himself. Her bets are the latter, but since it’s work day she doesn’t really have any time to wait until he wakes up to blame him for not being careful.

As quiet and swift as she can, Y/N tries to move out of bed, but since Dick’s senses are heightened she doesn’t really get far, when his arms wraps around her, keeping her in place.

“Dick……” she mutters

“Mhmmmm……” he mumbles into the pillow

“Come on, I have get  up!”

“no you don’t.”

“I gotta get to work!”

“I’m the only work you need……” he grins, still half-asleep, but so full of himself and she almost rolls her eyes at the joke

“God, please stop…. I need to earn money you know? Not all of us have a billionaire daddy!”

“You’re dating the billionaire oldest son, isn’t that enough?”

She wonders for a moment. On a second thought maybe it is. Dick seems to use that heartbeat of hesitation, shifting his body weight on her, pinning her to bed, his eyes still closed, but this little shit knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Dick!” she gasps feeling all those muscles crush her “shit!

“I like it when you call my name in such a desperate words. Do it just one more time and the neighbours will hate you forever.” He chuckles and his makes her skin tingle.

You’re heavy…..” she squirms trying to break free, but it’s no use. “You brought it on yourself….” The girl mutters poking on his ribs in the place where he’s extremely sensitive because of an old injury.

“Hey!” he yells, trying to defend himself and letting go off her in the process.

Y/N is quick to jump out of bed and rush towards her wardrobe, grabbing her jeans and t-shirt and struggling to put them on.

“Not so fast!” Dick tears her clothes from her hands and holds them high out of reach.

“Not fair Grayson!”

“You called me fat.”

“I called you heavy!’

“Same thing!”

“It’s not….. You know what, fine. I’ll just wear something else….” She shrugs and runs towards the drawer, but before she could reach it Dick grabs her from behind and holds her tight to him

“Dick…….” She whines stretching out just to grab something to wear. Anything.

“I know. I’m irresistible.”

“A pain in the ass is what you are!”

“I can make you breakfast….” He tempts

“You’re not Jason, Dick. Making me breakfast means putting cereals In the bowl and poring some milk over it in your dictionary. Cold milk. And that is only if I bought both cereals and milk.”

“did you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can’t you see how hard I’m trying? Just for you. Come on, you are like an employee  of the month. Or even a year. Stay…..” he kisses her neck playfully “you can call in sick.”

“I used all my sick days because of you.”

“How about casual leave?”

“and what may be the emergency?” she sighs in defeat, her body going limp as she drops the fighting knowing well enough she won’t win it. “Clingy boyfriend?”

“You called me boyfriend!” he grins again and she facepalms herself.

“We’ve been together for a year Dick. Why do you seem surprised?”

“I could never get bored with hearing that word from you. Makes me proud that you’re mine.”

“trying to sweet talk me? Won’t work. By the way, you are soooooo cheesy Grayson.”

“And?” he asks

“ And? What and?”  at this point Y/N is confused, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns to meet his gaze

“And you love me?” he insist, spinning her around in his arms so that he can get easy access to her kissable face.

“Yeah…..” she smiles dreamily “yeah, I do love you, you idiot” she trails with a love sick puppy expression. But it doesn’t mean I’m gonna stay and be you babysi…..ah! Put me down!” she yells suddenly feeling her body lift of the ground without her knowledge or will. “Put me down Grayson! What are you……?! Damn it…!”

Dick does not listen or does not get impressed by her poor attempts to break free. He’s Nightwing. He’s got so many ways to immobilise the opponent. Or, in this case, lover.

“Dick I swear I am going to kick your ass if you don’t….!” the threat dies on her lips as he throws her onto the mattress and kisses her softly shutting her up in the process.

“Stay?” he pouts looking at her with those pretty doe eyes “Pretty please?”

“You act like a five year old!”

“A five year old that wants you. A five year old that misses you…”

“I’ll be back, you know……” she brush the strand of hair from his face. She’s already gone but still tries to keep the appearances.

“Yeah, at 6 p.m. or later. It’s almost the time when I get ready for my night shift…… Please…..”he whines nuzzling his nose over her neck “stay…..”

“please…..” she mimics his whining, caressing his cheek “let me go……”

“But I need you…….” He hide his face in her belly and his hair tickle

“Why do you always need me when I am supposed to go to work?’

“It’s a terrible and uncontrollable disease…..” he laughs

“Is there a cure?” she laughs back

“I can think of something….” He closes the gap between them, nibbling on her bottom lip. “and it may be working…. But I;m not sure. Need some more testing” he repeats his action. “Mhm, yes, it’s definitely working… You don’t want me to be sick, do you?”

“Not really. You are whiny and attention seeker when you are sick.”

“I am not!” he shouts in denial “ok, maybe I am. A little. But come on, you can stay some more time with me……”

“How long, dickie?” she smiles at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“five more minutes?”

“ok. Five more minutes. She sighs deeply, letting go of any of her objections, letting Dick lay beside her and act like a big spoon, while holding her tight to his chest and caressing her sides and belly.

“You’re not letting me go, are you?” she whispers closing her eyes and getting lost in his touch.

“Never.”

And she’s pretty sure she can live with that.  

[dustofthedailylife]

Cereal Debates

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: You get the urge to tease your boyfriend every once in a while. And today was another day like that. And what better way to do that than to bring up the age-old question: Is cereal soup?

Tags: Crack, a bit of fluff toward the end

A/N: I wrote this like a possessed woman when I thought about the idea. Especially since Alhaitham HATES soup... and don't we all want to rile him up at times? I sure as hell do, especially since he made me lose three 50/50s on his banner now -.-

You sat on the sofa in the living room, flipping through the daily newspaper and eating a bowl of yogurt with fruits for breakfast. 

You suddenly hear the floorboards in the direction of the bedroom creak and not too long after you could hear a yawn and some feet shuffling towards the living room.

“Good Morning.” Alhaitham groaned sleepily. 

He rubbed his eyes and squinted as soon as he was faced with the morning sun falling in through the windows. He had always been somewhat of a morning grump and to be honest, it sort of made him look cute.

The disheveled hair and clothes, the imprint of his pillow still on his cheek, the sleepy expression, and the frown as he slurped his coffee in silence every morning. It took all your willpower not to jump and squeeze him tightly. No one would think someone like Alhaitham could manage to look so adorable, but you had proof he did.

“Good Morning! Slept well?”

“Mhm.” He hummed briefly before vanishing into the kitchen without another word. Like mentioned before - morning grump.

You could hear him press the button on the coffee machine before a familiar buzzing sound could be heard from the same device. He seemed to also get himself something to eat since you could hear him clink some bowls together.

Not long after, he emerged from the kitchen with a steaming cup of black coffee and a bowl in hand and sat down at the dining table.

When you decided to join him, your eyes couldn’t help but fall onto the bowl. It was a bowl of cornflakes that he was expressionlessly shoveling into his mouth.

You amusedly bit your lip because you knew he usually hated everything soup-like, and cereal was no exception to that. And you sometimes couldn’t help but want to tease him a little. And this morning the perfect opportunity presented itself to you.

“Never thought I’d see the day you'd eat soup out of your own volition.” You smirked, knowing full well that you said “soup” and not “cereal”.

“We had no more bread left.” He explained with another grumble, putting another spoon full of cornflakes in his mouth before suddenly pausing in his movement and looking back at you completely irritated. “What did you say?” He inquired horrified, with his mouth still half-full.

“I said, I never thought I see you eat soup voluntarily.”

He knitted his brows further before gulping and pointing at his bowl. “This is cereal.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of what it is. I have eyes. Cereal can be considered a soup-like dish.” You stated matter of factly as you bit back a smirk. 

You pretended to go back to eating your yogurt and reading your newspaper but you could see his completely shocked and low-key annoyed expression from the corner of your eye.

“Cereal is not soup. Cereal is cereal.” He grumbled.

“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Yes. Soup is a liquid food, especially with meat, fish, or vegetable stock as a base and often contains pieces of solid food.” He recited the definition he knew, only Archons know where, from. Suppressing laughter became harder and harder by the minute, especially seeing how serious he was taking this debate all of a sudden.

“Especially with meat, fish, or vegetable…”, you pondered putting an emphasis on the first word. “So that means it is mostly cooked that way but not always. So milk can serve as a base just as fine. And technically if you use soy milk or pea milk it would count as vegetable stock, no?”

You could see the muscles in his jaw tense as he gazed at you, thinking hard of what to reply. You could practically see the gears turn in his head before he started to smirk triumphantly. You knew him well enough to know that he must’ve come up with, what he thought was, an irrefutable argument.

“There is something you just said. Cooked. No heating in the process of making a bowl of cereal whatsoever. It’s served cold - therefore it isn’t soup.” He leaned back in the chair with a self-satisfied grin, expecting you not to be able to counter his argument further.

But he shouldn’t count the chickens before they’re hatched.

You stayed silent for a minute and already had a counterargument in your head from the get-go. You just wanted to wait until he took a sip from his coffee before you dropped it.

“Explain Gazpacho then.”

You could see his eyes widen and train on you over the rim of his cup before he put it back on the table with a loud thud. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking annoyed once more.

“What about French Vichyssoise? Also not soup according to you, just because they’re served cold?”

“Okay, I get it.” He grumbled once again, before pondering for a brief moment. “But all of these soups have something in common.”

“Oh? Please enlighten me, Grand Sage.” You continued your teasing.

“It’s Acting Grand Sage.” He emphasized, lightly rolling his eyes with a huff. “But anyway. Soup isn’t sweet. Neither of the ones you named is sweet. They’re savory. Cereal is always sweet.”

He smirked at you once again, fully believing he now had you cornered.

Wrong.

“Ginataang Bilo-Bilo, Koldskål, Zenzai…” You started listing sweet soup dishes from all over the world, watching how his face showed an ever-so-slight hint of surprise as well as horror.

“Now you’re just making things up.” He huffed.

“Want me to show you the soup recipe book we have over there on the shelf? Not that you ever looked at it.” You replied with a teasing lilt.

He had his hand clutched so tightly around his spoon by now that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. You knew he hated losing arguments and battles of wits and this wasn’t going in the direction he had imagined at all. Much to your amusement, however. You could practically see little clouds of steam rise from his head because his brain was racing at a million miles per hour. You just knew he was wrecking his brain to come up with a counterargument once again.

“Okay.” he finally said getting up and grabbing something from the kitchen. He came back with a triumphant smile as he placed a raw, unpeeled potato on the table in front of you.

“What’s this?” He asked, motioning in your direction.

“A… potato?” You replied in confusion, unsure where he was trying to go with this.

“Correct.” He nodded, putting one finger on his chin after placing a bowl of dry cereal right next to it and looking at you expectantly.

“That’s cereal.”

“Also correct.”

“Alhaitham, I’m not sure I follow.” You raised an eyebrow at him, still highly amused about how invested he was in this crack debate.

“A potato is a condiment you can make soup from. But a potato by itself is just that - a potato. You have to prepare it in a special way in order for it to become soup. The same goes for everything else you named. Cereal is always cereal, whether it swims in milk, water, broth, or nothing at all.”

“Okay, fair. Can’t refute that argument.” You admitted with a nod, hearing a small sigh of relief from the other side of the table.

You were no longer able to hold back your laughter now that you looked at his borderline exhausted and relieved expression.

“What? Don’t tell me you still have a counterargument?” He inquired as his eyes widened.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t. You should see your face right now though, it’s hilarious. I was just trying to tease you a bit, I didn’t think you’d get this invested.” You wiped a tear out of the corner of your eyes as you continued giggling.

“You–” He grumbled playfully as he clenched his jaw before he started smiling. “Come here!”

He got up from his chair and lifted you out of yours, walking over to the sofa, and throwing you down it together with himself. He started tickling your sides while holding you tightly to his chest so you couldn’t escape his playful attack.

Out of breath from laughing so much you leaned your forehead against his chest before snaking your arms around him.

“I love you, you dork.” 

“I love you, too.” He replied, lifting your chin up and pressing a featherlight kiss on your lips. “Even if you start arguments about soup with me first thing in the morning. You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒜 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 ༻

You never expected a Devil to be your savior, never expected to be cherished by him…

PRT 2 (CLICK HERE) - Fluff - Soft Raphael - Past Talk About Abuse

Gazing outside his balcony, you watched as yet another red storm began to stir throughout Avernus. The wilted trees bend to the will of the fiery winds. The overcast clouding your view of the mountains, and with a deep sigh this dreary day has brought back memories you had thought you’d forgotten. A life full of pain and restrictions… But the devil took you away from it all, and gave you a new life with new meaning.

With a subtle startled expression as you felt your hand graze one of the small buttons on your wrist, you look down with a warm smile as you continue to run your hand along the soft cotton of Raphael’s opulent dress shirt. You nearly had forgotten that on days such as this you quite enjoy stealing his shirts. They always brought you such comfort and joy, who would’ve thought… A devil bringing you such comfort. It’s laughable really. Holding your arm to your lips you can smell the scent of cherries and sulfur, it relaxes your muscles and you can’t help but to thank him aloud to yourself, “Thank you, my devil.”

“For what, pray tell little mouse of mine?”

And just like a tiny mouse, squealing wasn’t the right word for the noise you had just made… But with a tiny cute noise, you hastily turned around on his silken bed to face the devil himself, Raphael… He was always so handsome no matter the form he took, right now though he appeared human. His milk chocolate eyes watching you with interest, his hand resting on his chin. Everything about him was so grandiose and each time you looked him in the eyes your heart would skip a beat.

The Devil wasn’t perfect, he had his flaws just as everyone else did… He also had his own ambitions to rule the 9 hells… But, for whatever reason, those flaws made him even more special to you. Yes, he was the son of Mephistopheles. Yes, he is technically one of the “bad” guys, but… unlike the last villain that had captured you… Raphael was soft with you, treated you as if you were some sort of delicate flower that would break apart if not careful. He had his souls he enjoyed to flail and torture, yet with you it was different… the devil had no need to put you through such horrors. He cherished and protected you like a dragon with its hoard of treasure.

“R-Raphael- I uh-… Thank you… For…”

Just his presence alone made you flustered, it couldn’t be helped.

“It would seem that the cat has caught this little mouse’s tongue.” A small laugh emanated from his chest, “How, precious.”

You grin at his response.

Damn near everyone would disagree with you, but in your eyes, Raphael wasn’t foul, not like Astarion was… This devil you came to know throughout your adventure didn’t hold you by a leash… Didn’t force you down whenever he pleased, or gauge your neck with his teeth to prove a point- Your flushed face reducing to a pale complexion as your hand cups where Astarion left his mark on you. A chill runs down your spine remembering when Astarion the Ascended chained you for days… All because you wanted to run out into the city for some fresh brioche and to say hello to Gale.

Raphael, a devil, son of Mephistopheles… Never chained you nor held you against your will. He let you run out into the real world… Let you do as you pleased. You knew he’d make Korilla follow after you. But it wasn’t due to lack of trust, it was plainly because he wanted to keep you safe and out of the Vampires grasps.

Like a falling feather, you gracefully glide off Raphael’s bed. His shirt on you flowed at the bottom thanks to it being far too big on you making this scene before him look like it was out of a book- and into his chest you fell. Your arms wrapping around him while your cheek pressed against his arm that crossed against his chest.

“What’s better than a devil you do know?” You looked up at him questioning.

“By all means please do enlighten me.” His hand never left his face and his other arm stayed crossed over his chest as you embrace him.

“A devil thats your savior…” -You looked away from him, staring back out the balcony-, “I don’t think you’d ever find a quote like that in a book, but I’m thankful for you, Raphael. Truly. Thank you.” You press your face into him, your lashes fluttering close.

Raphael would never tell you how he waited for your hope to whittled down to the very marrow of despair- how he waited for you to whimper his name between sobs while chained to the vampires personal bed. The Devil would also never admit how it pained him to see such a treasure being handled in such ways, yet he wanted you to call out to him. He’s still a devil after all… So he waited all that year, waited for you to call out his name for help, pleading to sign whatever it is he desired…

“You didn’t belong with such filth.”- you didn’t need to look up to know he was scrunching his face, you could hear it in his voice- “Fine beauty such as yourself belongs in a much more suitable home.” He finally moved his hand from his face to the top of your head. Petting you like some adored pet.

Raphael, from the moment he laid eyes on you, knew he'd make you apart of his plan forever someday. He just didn’t expect you to vanish all of a sudden… The damn vampire had ascended and taken you… All those years you were caged like some sort of animal. Nowhere to go, forced into things you wanted no part of… Living like a rat.

A rarity had shown its face as Raphael peered down at you, you didn’t see it and Raphael could only hope for once that Haarlep didn’t see the concern on his face.

Astarion still walks among the living, and Raphael can’t be everywhere…

[holybibly]

I'm brave and not sending this anonymously... but I had this thought earlier today about if san wasn't an idol what occupation would he be in, and my mind went Farmer/Cowboy... the tan, the muscles, the ranch and farm, the animals, most of all... HIS STAMINA...

My mind went all mushy with this thought, and I don't regret it 🤤

Well, let's go on with our week of hard hours with my brave bunny and the sweet farmer, San.

I think of how shy he would be in response to your praise of his looks and the touch of your hands on the moist golden skin of his biceps. That damned blush and that sweet, dimpled smile—you're not going to let him get away from you in any case.

Living so far away from the city on his small farm, he would be very unaware of his appearance. Your praise would turn his head so much that he would start to hang on to your every word, waiting for the words of praise to roll off your tongue.

San would be so focused on your glistening, glossy lips that his mind would begin to form images of those lips wrapping around the head of his cock and sucking on it like a piece of candy. He would shyly ask you if he could use your mouth, and hell, it would be just what you were hoping for—to take him all the way to heaven.

He may not have the longest cock, but he sure as hell has a size you can count on. San couldn't keep his mouth shut about how good it feels and how tight and wet your pussy is when he pinned you against the wall of the barn while he fucked you into oblivion. And I've got to tell you, those muscular thighs know how to get what they want. You'd be clawing at his wet back, feeling the muscles under your hands tense and roll with every thrust of his cock. You'd be squeezing his firm buttocks with your hands, digging your nails into the soft flesh, and God, he'd be moaning like a whore. San's terribly tough; once he's tasted you, he's going to give you a real rodeo, desperate to please you.

Maybe he pours milk or cream on your naked body. He admires the way it drips down your body while his tongue traces the path of the sweet milk drops.

"Dirty boy."

Your words would cause his eyes to roll back in his head and a bright red blush to spread across his beautiful face and neck. One hundred percent, you'd leave hundreds of hickeys all over his body. He's just so delicious. How could you possibly resist him?

He would definitely be a hungry boy who would cling to you as if his life depended on it. He would eat you up in the shower, with your legs resting all the way on his muscular, broad shoulders. Oh, a fucking show of force would send you over the edge, and you'd literally be riding on his pretty face. But San would be totally cool with all that.

He'd be mooing, whinnying, and asking all the time.

"Do you like it this way? Am I doing well?"

He's not quite sure if he's doing it right; after all, you're a city girl spoiled for attention, but San is full of enthusiasm and endurance, and he learns how to rub your pussy properly with his tongue.

And this would go on for hours and hours until you would literally have to pull him away from your cunt. And even then, San would still be licking his lips and giving you sultry, wet looks. You are so sweet, and he has such a terrible sweet tooth.

You had no idea your visit to the farm where your parents do p's would be like this. Eventually, you begin to understand what "Save the Horses, Ride the Cowboys" really means.

And damn it, that is exactly what you have been planning to do.

[i-cant-sing]

Ya think Miguel would be one those grandmas who constantly give you snacks and meals. If reader were to have a big appetite. Like in any chance he gives reader snacks cause he knows they’re hungry. Hehe imagine if he develops a new sense where he just KNOWS when reader is hungry.

HAHAHAHA IMAGINE HIS THEME SONG PLAYING EVERYTIME HE SENSES READER IS HUNGRY and he just sprints towards you with full speed, opening up a secret stash to give you a snack. And like he always knows what you're craving.

Yknow how grandmas are like "hey, would you like a XYZ food?" and she poses the question like she has that food ready to eat, but in reality she just immediately goes to the grocery store to buy the ingredients to make that dish (actually, she ends up buying more to make a 5 course meal because to her, you always look like a starving orphan who is holding up their bowl and asking "can I please have some more, sir???🥺🥺")

Miguel would be absolutely horrified whenever your stomach would grumble (like yknow how sometimes its just cause of digestion and not cause youre hungry) and my man just punts a sandwich at you.

And he is so like those grandmas that start to actually scold their grandkids because they havent eaten their 7th serving of the food he made. Imagine just Hobie, Pavitr, Miles, Gwen walking in (because these guys never knock at Miguel's place) and Miguel is wearing a frilly apron and wagging his spatula at you, holding you hostage and telling u you cant leave until you finish every last bite or else no more saving the world for you.

And the gang just make fun of you because "what kind of spiderman gets scolded for not finishing the after dinner snack?? And why do you look tired rn? What do you mean its because Miguel made you drink milk and now you're feeling sleepy and cant move a muscle because the swinging makes you wanna puke your guts out??? No, its not "Miguel's big plan" to make you quit hero life, you big baby!"

[sashiavi]

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

𝙱𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢! 𝙷𝚢𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙰𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 & 𝙺𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚑

♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Alhaitham & Kaveh Have a Bunny Girl

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: | ¹⁸⁺ | ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ᵃᶠᵃᵇ ˢʰᵉ/ʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᶦᵐᵖˡᶦᵉᵈ ᵏᵃᵛᵉᵗʰᵃᵐ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ʰʸᵇʳᶦᵈ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ | ᵃⁿᶦᵐᵃˡ ᵗʳᵃᶦᵗˢ ⁻ ᵉᵃʳˢ & ᵗᵃᶦˡ | ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ¹.¹ᵏ

Kaveh was so, so sweet and attentive to his pretty darling bunny, knowing exactly what she needed, especially when it came to the subject of her heat. His darling sat on his lap, her soft clit dragging over Kaveh's pelvis, pathetically humping against him, crying and whining into his mouth.

Kaveh whimpers and moans just as bad as she does, his arms wrapped snug around her torso, one of his hands softly twirling into the base of her hairline, the other, squeezing the plush flesh of her hip. He's drunk on everything she has to offer. His lips are all over her, tongue dipping past her lips and teeth clattering together, he breathes heavily, placing wet kisses from her plump cheeks to the sweet curve of her neck. Her tail wags at the soft affections she receives from him. He humps back at her, matching her pace, her slick making obscene gushy noises between them.

"Kaveh! Kaveh... feels so.. feels s-so nice..." she babbles into his mouth, tears trickling down the apples of her cheeks. Kaveh groans, holding her impossibly closer, he takes charge, thrusting his hips up into her wet cunny, over taking her little bunny humps. Kaveh felt delirious, his body burned red-hot, his muscles ached and screamed at him to cease, but his sweet darling bunny just felt too good on his cock.

"..'Veh... Kaveh- need... please.. need your cum... need you to.. need it in me!" His bunny cried. Kaveh groans loudly, eyes rolling to the back of his skull, his fingertips bruise her hips as he grips her plush skin. He drags her hips against his own, bringing her down onto his cock, bullying her cunny with his thrusts. His darling sobs, she throws herself into his neck, gripping his shoulders leaving decadent crescent moons into his skin. Kaveh moves his lips to her neck, leaving hot open mouthed kisses against her skin as he firmly brings her down on his cock. Kaveh bites down on her skin as he cums in his sweet bunny's cunny. She babbles and whines, humping against him as he cums, using her sweet pussy to milk his cock, all while chasing her own release. The two stay like that, softly thrusting and humping against each other, sobbing into each other's lips.

Alhaitham's eyes rake over them both, he 'tsks' at their silly desperation.

•·················• 🍑 •·················•

Alhaithem was so, so mean to his darling little bunny. Leaving her to work his cock with her gushy cunny herself, wriggling and squirming pathetically on his lap, her little bunny tail wags with her movements. Alhaitham lays upon the bed, nearly unmoving, his naked back propped against the headboard. Alhaitham tuts, his heated gaze bores into her face, heavy but unreadable. She sobs out a string of moans, only working herself into more frustration, hot slick drips down her thighs and onto Alhaitham's lap. His darling begs him to move, to touch her, to do anything but watch her, as she humps pathetically on to his cock.

"Please.. p-please 'Haitham,' his darling whines, fat tears threaten to fall from her doe eyes. Alhaitham feels his jaw tighten, his teeth grit against each other as he luls his head ever so slightly. Her words go straight to his cock, hot and achy, he resists the urge to thrust up into her pretty little cunny. Alhaitham could give his sweet darling exactly what she wanted, pin her down and fuck her good, taint her pretty little pussy with his hot cum, pump her full of babies. He got off on her desperation, her carnal instincts screaming at her to get filled. His darling babbles, crying out of frustration, hot tears fall down her face, he was being so, so mean.

"Please.. I need... n-eed," she chokes out. Alhaithem wasn't sure she even knew what she was asking for, she'd fucked herself silly on his cock.

"Need you, need more! Need your cum! Make me a mommy Please..pleaseplease!.. gimme! G-gimme~" Her chest heaved and her thighs shook, she was so exhausted. Something in Alhaitham snaps, a shudder wracks his body, from his shoulders to his toes. He suddenly lifts his darling off of his lap, throwing her on her back, into the plush fabric of the bed. She lets out a startled moan, eyes wide and glossy. Alhaitham wastes no time, he situates himself between her legs gripping the underside of her slicked up thighs, pushing them to her chest into a sweet mating press. His sweet bunny looks up at him, her face flushed, tired and desperate. Alhaitham throat lets out an involuntary groan, his bunny darling was just too pretty like this.

"..'Haitham.." his sweet girl chokes out, her arms reach for his neck, twirling her fingers into his soft hair. Alhaitham bites his lip, his cock throbs against her gushy cunny, slick, hot and so so perfect. His tip teases her soft opening, poking in and out, in and out.

"Please! Can't wait!.. can't wait anymore!... please, p-please.. need it, n-need you!" His darling cries. Alhaitham is quick to bully her sweet cunny with his cock, fucking into her with a brutal pace. He situates her legs, pinning them snuggly to her chest, his hand squeezes the soft flesh of her thighs. His other, twiddles and smacks her pretty clit, his sweet darling sobs, fat tears well in her eyes, her lashes damp with pleasure. Her cunny felt so good around his leaking cock, so deserving of his seed, needing to be bread full of his cum.

"N-need.. need you!... need more! Fill me up- f-fill... please.. breed me, need to be full!" His sweet bunny was delusional at this point, completely dumb on his cock. Alhaitham shudders out a breath, his eyes scrunch and his brows furrow, his grip aching his darling's thighs. His fingers flick and play with her clit, her breath hitches as she moans out unashamed.

"Cum! C-cumming!... cumming! gonna- need... need you, need it.. cum in me! Make me a mommy!" His darling sobs out, her voice octave elevating with every word. Alhaitham groans out loud, clenching his jaw as he humps into her cunny, breeding her full of his hot, milky cum. His fingers never stop, playing with his darling's clit, leaving her shaking, making feeble attempts to close her legs. She lets out a cry as she cums around his cock, milking him for everything he has to offer her.

𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚆𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚙𝚜

𝙸'𝚖 𝙸𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛

🍑𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚌!🍑 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚑 𝚡 𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐!♡

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙳𝚘 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚁𝚎-𝚄𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗!

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

[quills-of-freedom]

Head Canons ~

Cockwarming

Eren - Armin - Reiner - Porco - Bertoldt - Jean

Eren

Cockwarming with Eren is an extreme experience, to say the least.

Eren is laying awake, the weight of the world on his shoulders as per usual. (Maybe that’s why he hunches so much?) He’s been tossing and turning but didn’t want to disturb you so he turns on his side and watches you sleep.

As the silver glow of the moonlight illuminates your skin from the open sliver of the curtain, his brooding eyes can’t remove themselves from your form as you breathe softly; totally lost in another world.

He’ll bring his lips to your cheek in a peck - hoping that whatever dimension you’re in is a good one, and you’re being treated well by the hosts of that world.

The feel of your flesh against his lips and the warmth radiating from your body entices his large palm to run up your stomach, he himself not even realising his hips pressing themselves against your ass.

His kisses become frantic and you begin to stir awake as he quickly becomes feral, his shoulder and back muscles tensing as his fingers hook onto your bottoms and pull them down all while nuzzling into your neck.

A groan parts your lips as you awaken, confused as to why your body was smouldering with heated desire, your boyfriend's fingers sliding up and down your slit as he pulls your back tighter against his chest.

“Eren…?” You croak.

“Shh…” He soothes, his hand splaying around your throat. “I love you, so much… mmm ~ ah…”

You take in a sharp breath as he pushes your panties to the side, pushing his swollen head at your entrance and inserting himself inside of you with a grunt.

You rut your hips back with glee, expecting him to fuck you deep into the twilight.

But he just… stays there. His mouth desperately devouring your neck, palms squeezing your breasts as his staggered breathing coats your skin.

“Let me be with you…” His vocals are guttural.

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that - your mind is still heavily within the realm of dreams but you’re more than happy to allow him. Eventually, the both of you fell back into a slumber while he was buried inside of your flesh.

Armin

One time in particular you and Armin had such an intimate moment was when you were having a picnic at one of your favourite spots.

It was spring and the cherry blossoms were out in full bloom as you sat between his legs, his back against the bark.

The sun was starting to set after a full day of fun with him, so the air was beginning to nip a little. Resulting in Armin throwing a blanket over the both of you.

There’s times where Armin’s dark side shows and its… so hot.

His arms snake around your waist as he inhales your scent - another perfect day with his perfect partner.

His brows furrow as he quickly gets carried away, his nuzzles into the crook of your neck becoming more hungry.

You end up cockwarming him there and then under that tree - flittering pink petals cascading down around the both of you.

Your insides squeeze him in reflex, his muffled groans into your neck only encouraging them more as your slick gets more and more thick.

He gasps your name with each flutter around his entirety, slowly his vocals grow in volume as he gets closer and closer to an orgasm.

“Y/n… I’m getting close. You wanna finish this in the car?”

He’ll scoop you up into his arms and carry you down to the parking lot if you agree. If not, he’s more than happy to let you milk him under the branches of the tree.

Reiner

Reiner loves nothing more than to gently ease his huge weight onto you on the bed, pinning your legs as high as they’ll go and sinking into you.

This man craves closeness and anything to do with you. So he’s more than happy to nestle himself within you while he mutters desperately how much he loves, adores and worships you.

It’s pretty easy to make him cum from this. He gets himself too riled up with emotion, and your pulsating insides push him over the edge.

He loves pressing his chest onto yours and feeling your heart hammer against his own, his large hand pawing at your hair and face.

“N'umph… your pussy. Babe… ah, you’re gonna make me cum, gorgeous.”

Will absolutely stay plugged up in you after he has done so, his breeding kink always ignited at the sight of you so needy for his touch.

This is a common occurrence with you and Reiner. It’s one of his most treasured ways to show how much you mean to him.

Porco

In all total honesty - Porco is the worst to do this with.

He finds it extremely difficult not to thrust when he’s inside of you.

Except that one time he was sick but also horny. He wanted sex, you said he should rest. So he pulled you onto his lap and lay you down on top of him, sliding himself into you while he just held you and watched TV.

It was a little gross, as his nose kept on running, but you didn’t mind. You love him and if your closeness helped him feel better then it was all worth it.

“I love you baby.” He whimpered while holding you close, really needing to feel your presence.

Running your fingers through his hair, you return his affections. After a while, you remove yourself and make him some soup.

Bertoldt

Bertoldt oh my lord…

He’s up there with the most passionate cockwarmers to be honest. He can control himself but the effort that shows of himself holding back is to die for.

His fingers will dig into your flesh, he’ll groan, he’ll whimper, and he’ll gasp. Its almost torture, but he loves it.

Will try any dirty trick to get you to move. Including dirty talk.

“Ah~ you feel s'so amazing… You’re so warm and tight. Do you like the feel of my length so deep in you? D'do I ah~ feel good? mmmm…”

His heart is braying against his chest as he clings on you for dear life, his head pressed into your chest as if he were worshipping some goddess.

“God, I love you…”

After a while, if you feel mercy for him, for god sake give your hips a little roll. He’ll come undone instantly.

Jean

Another who’s favourite thing to do with you is this. He’s just overjoyed and privileged he gets to have you this way.

Praises you, oh so much.

“You’re a goddess.”

“You’re so perfect.”

“I love you… so much. God, you feel so good…”

Expect a lot of whimpering once you’ve been there a while - his cock twitching inside of you is everything.

It’s extremely difficult not to just start bouncing because his dick is just… *chefs kiss*

He’s a sneaky little shit though. He’ll lazily rub your clit and get you to orgasm, your insides pulling at him getting him off slyly - all with a coy grin.

Loves to spread your legs and turn you around so he can just sit and watch you splayed and splitting around him.

[storm-angel989]

If ur still takeing request what if val wife or girlfriend was feeling insecure with her little bit of baby fat after haveing there baby cuz she's worried he would be attracted to her anymore cuz all of his skinny pretty employees he works with he can tell something is wrong but she won't tell him but he won't take no forget answer till she tells him and when she does he reassure her that no matter what she looks like or anything he will always love her and think she's beautiful and to make sure she believes him she shows her in his own way 😏😏 nfsw if u know what I mean 18+ if would like to 😁

Hi there!

So sorry for the delay! I love this idea, but I think I took it in a much different direction- just kind of went with the writing vibes! Hope you like it <3

~Mandy

I stared at myself in the full length mirror. Two months. I had my daughter eight weeks ago to the day. It had been one month since I began working out, four weeks that I, as quietly and secretly as I could, tried to turn my body back into its pre-baby figure. The body that my husband, Valentino, had fallen in love with. 

As much as I loved my daughter, I hated what pregnancy had done to my body. My chest, once swollen, seemed to be flatter and hang lower now. And with Valentino starting to work longer hours and later nights, I came to the conclusion that this was my fault. My body, my figure was driving him away. So although technically I wasn’t cleared to lift anything heavier than our daughter, I couldn’t let that deter me. Not only did I now need to be a mother, but I had a duty to be pretty and thin- lest I lose my husband to one of his drop dead gorgeous models.

I pinched at the roll of fat that now sat stubbornly below my belly button and cursed to myself. No wonder he was working late again tonight. No wonder he wouldn’t fuck me, or take me up on my offer to blow him. I wouldn’t want me either. With a final glare of disgust towards my body, I tugged on a shirt and pulled my greasy hair up into a ponytail. Valentino wouldn’t be home for about an hour- just enough time to squeeze in another workout while the baby was sleeping. 

I rolled out my yoga mat and tried to ignore the protest in my muscles. I knew better than to try to stream a video- Vox would catch on quickly and I’d get caught. And the gym in Velvette’s studio wasn’t an option- not only could I not leave the baby, but I’d risk being seen. So self guidance and training was my only option, basic moves until I was officially cleared to push my body as hard as it could go. 

Sit ups to start. 

 One…two…three….twenty…twenty one….fifty…

I ignored the pain that coursed throughout my body. Pretty and thin. That was my focus. My sole focus. Keep Valentino. Make him love me, earn his…

A cold leg against my back pulled me from my movement. Hands that pushed my shoulder to the mat. I looked up into Valentino’s burning eyes. 

Shit. So much for effortlessly pretty. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Valentino demanded in a sharp whisper. His hands slid under my shoulders and pulled me up off the floor, to my feet and he turned me to face him. “Reader?”

Unable to help myself, I burst into tears. 

“Shit. Hey, don’t cry. Fuck,” he said quickly as guided me to the bed. “I’m here. What’s going on?” 

The sound of our baby screaming from the crib pulled our attention away from each other. I felt a pang. Our voices had woken her up. Her cries triggered mine and my chest ached at the sound. 

“No, no,” Valentino said quickly as he looked at the mess that appeared on my shirt. 

 “You’re not okay, muñeca. I’m going to have Vox take the baby, okay? Just sit here.”

“She needs to be fed,” I sobbed as I tried to cover the growing stains with my hands. “I, I can take her.” 

I watched something shift in Valentino’s expression. He shook his head quickly. 

“Nope, he can make her a bottle. There is lots of milk in the freezer. Stay here,” he said gently as he put his arm around me. 

I heard the door open and Vox’s voice speak softly to her. 

“Wait, where is Vox taking her?” I asked in a panicked voice. “She needs to eat and I…” The sound of her cries leaving the room and the silence it left behind sent me into a new wave of frantic worry. 

“Shush bebita. Vox is going to watch her. He’s just taking her to the nursery, sit in the rocking chair and give her a bottle.” He said gently. His hands touched the hem of my shirt. “Let me see your tummy. I want to make sure nothing is bruised or…” 

I recoiled from his touch. No. I couldn’t let him see the physical mess I was. I rubbed my eyes and tried to swallow back the creeping sadness. 

“I’m fine Val,” I snapped as I pushed his hand away from my shirt. “Really, I’m fine.” 

He frowned and sat down next to me. Instead of fighting, he put his arm around my shoulder. “You don’t look fine, and you’re not acting like yourself. You’re pale, cariño. I just want to make sure you don’t..”

“No.” 

His voice turned from gentle to sharp. “Muñeca, I’m not asking.” 

With the quickness of one hand, I felt my shirt tear in half, leaving me exposed under his gaze. I closed my eyes, as I tried to protect myself from the disgust I was sure would play across his face. I felt his hand on my stomach and waited for the criticism. 

“Honey, does that hurt?” His voice was soft. “Please tell me, I need to know if I need to take you to the hospital or not.” 

I felt my eyes open. The feeling of uncontrollable rage and defensiveness rushed through me, washing away the worry and sadness. 

“For what? Plastic surgery? Fix this mess of. A body?” I snapped as I pushed him away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry my body isn’t what you want!” 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the anger vanished and turned to sopping wet tears in a matter of seconds. He pulled me to him and gently stroked my hair as I sobbed into his chest. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” He asked, confusion and concern in his voice. “Plastic surgery? Where the fuck did you get that idea?” His grip tightened, “give me a name. I’ll kill them.” 

I half laughed, half sobbed as I continued to cry. What was he talking about? Why would he want to kill someone who would only want me to look better for him? Sheer exhaustion rushed through my body with each choking gasp. 

“Hey, hey I’m here. It’s okay. Let it out,” he said in the same voice I heard him use around our daughter. “Talk to me, mi amore. Please. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” 

As though a dam had broken, all at once it came spilling out. The workouts. The diet- balancing cutting carbs with trying to produce enough milk to feed our baby. The feelings of insecurity and sadness. The anger I felt towards my body, and my worry that I was no longer good enough for him, no longer pretty enough- no longer worthy of his love and affection. 

“I just feel ugly. And fat. And like nothing I do is good enough I can’t feed a baby and be on a diet, I can’t be thinner and my boobs are…” 

“Your boobs are perfect,” he interrupted as he kissed me gently. “Honey, you pushed our daughter out of your body. You’ve spent the last nine months growing her and the past two feeding her. When was the last time you slept? Or had a decent meal?” His hand pushed against my forehead and he tucked back a stray strand of hair. 

“Val, you’re surrounded by beautiful women who don’t have the scars- women who can fuck you. And here I am, and I offer you my body and you turn me down!” I yelled through the hiccuping sobs. 

Fury rushed across his features. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. 

“You listen to me and you listen to me good bebita. You had a baby. You physically can’t have sex yet. The doctor said it herself. Not only will doing do cause you immense pain, but it could cause a whole host of issues. To protect you, I’m not fucking you. Believe me if I could have I would have fucked you the night you came home from the hospital.” His eyes searched my expression, “ do you think I would cheat on you? Honestly and truly? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

Slowly, I shook my head no. A wave of exhaustion rushed through me and I let the full weight of my head fall to his chest. 

“Then why do you think I would leave you? You had my child- our child- and you are an amazing mom. I’m sorry I haven’t told you enough lately how much I love you and how beautiful you are.” He sighed and kissed me gently as he pulled out his phone. “That’s it. I’m taking the next two weeks off. Work be damned.”

“Val I…”

“No. We need to spend time together as a family. This isn’t up for discussion.” He said firmly as he stood up. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet before lifting me up into his arms. 

“Where are we going?” I asked as he carried me across the room. 

“To shower while Vox has the baby. And then I’m holding you until you fall asleep.” He replied shortly as he set me in the rocking chair we kept next to the bassinet in our room. “Pump now while I start the water, and I’ll take care of the next feeding.” 

I flushed in a mixture of self consciousness and embarrassment “Val, I… And you don’t want to shower with me, I’m..”

“Sincerely in need of a little love, yes.” He replied firmly. “Now relax and let me take care of you. Let me be the husband and the father.” 

“Val…” I bit my lip as I felt the tears start to leak out again. “Val I don’t deserve you. Why do you want me?” 

“Honey, I can’t say it enough. I love you. Only you. No one else in this world will have my heart the way you do.” He kissed the top of my head. “I got you honey- for once let me take care of you.” 

Ten minutes later he had his arms wrapped around me as he held me under a stream of hot water. I closed my eyes and laid my head against him. I heard the sound of a bottle opening and felt Valentino’s hands slowly work their way through my hair. After a few seconds, he pulled me out from under the water.

“Let the shampoo sit bebé muñeca, you’ll feel so much better and more like yourself when we’re done.” He said gently. 

I felt his hands run down my body and to my surprise he knelt down and pressed his lips against my belly. 

“You need to understand how much I love you,” he said softly. “Your tummy grew our little girl. That changes a person both inside and out. I don’t expect you to have the same body you had before our little one because it went through something drastic. The only thing I need from you is to love yourself. That includes this new body, and your health and to love yourself enough to ask for help when you need it. Ask for help from me, from Vox, from Velvette hell- call Lucifer for all I care. I know I’ve been busy but I assumed you were talking to them. It’s my fault I should have checked in more, myself. I’m sorry. You’re not in this alone, and you never will be.”

“Val I…”

“Shussh.” His lips pressed against my belly again and he slowly stood back up. 

“Relax against me. I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around me and carefully washed the shampoo from my hair. “I’ll condition the ends and wrap your hair up and then we’ll take a bath. Let your body soak in the warm water for a bit.”

“I don’t want to take a bath. I’m still bleeding.” I said tiredly as I laid my head on his chest. I could feel the exhaustion creeping, threatening to wash over me at any moment. 

“It’s been eight weeks,” he said sharply. 

“And it can go up to twelve,” I answered as I closed my eyes against him.

“We can still take…”

“No, Val. I don’t want to.” 

“Alright,” he relented. “Then a heating pad? How can I take care of you?” 

His softness broke me and again, I broke down into sobbing tears. This time he said nothing, and rocked me gently against him. 

“How can I take care of a baby when I’m not even me?” I sobbed. “I feel sick and awful and…just wrong! Like I’m a terrible mother!”  

“I think sweetheart you need a little TLC, a ton of sleep and some good food.” Valentino said softly. “Let me take care of you. Please. Before we get out of the shower, what else can I do for you? Body wash? Shave?”

I laid my head against him. “If I have the time, I need to shave. Literally everything. Just give me a moment and I….”

He grabbed my chin and again our eyes met. 

“Did you forget that I shaved your legs when you couldn’t see them anymore? Did you forget that I held your hair when your morning sickness hit? Did you forget that I laid our newborn baby on your chest seconds after she came out of you, despite the fear of you bleeding out in your hospital bed?” His voice was hard, “You are mine. My wife. The only other being in this worth I love with every inch of my soul. The other women in my life? They are merchandise to me. And don’t you ever forget that. Understood?” 

I gave the smallest of nod and he released me. Carefully, he washed the remaining conditioner from my hair and sat me down on the tile bench in the middle of our walk in shower. 

“I’m sorry, Val…”

“Stop apologizing,” he replied as he ran the shaving cream over my legs. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one who should be sorry for leaving you alone so damn much. And I am, sorry that it. It won’t happen again.” 

I felt the sharpness of the razor slide up my legs. I closed my eyes as I tried to shake away the fear that wrapped through me. 

“Why do I feel so bad, Val? I feel like I’m going insane.”

“When was the last time you put food in your stomach? Or had a full, uninterrupted night's sleep?” He asked as he slathered my other leg in shaving cream. “And be honest.” 

“Last night, kind of. I had a bowl of oatmeal. As for sleep..” 

I heard the metal of the razor hit the floor and his head shot up. “What?” His fingers reached up and gently squeezed my nipple. 

“Ow! Val!” I shouted. I tried to yank away as a small stream of milk shot out. ”Fuck, that hurt!” 

“I am shocked that you’re still productive,” he said sharply as he picked the razor back up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing to yourself? No food? No sleep? No wonder you feel so sick.”

“I’m trying to pretty,” I whimpered. 

“No. You’re going to end up putting yourself in the hospital,” he snapped. “Lack of sleep alone is enough to make you feel this awful. Add in the exercise which you shouldn’t be doing and the lack of food, and quite honestly I’m not entirely sure how you’re still standing, let alone carrying out a conversation.” 

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. 

“Stop apologizing,” he replied firmly as he helped me back to my feet. “It isn’t your fault.” 

Carefully, he and I stood back under the stream of water, rinsing away the rest of the soap. As soon as we were finished, he wrapped me in a towel and gently combed through my hair. I crawled into bed next to him and settled my head on his chest, straining to hear the beating of his heart. 

“You promise you still find me sexy? Even after all this?” I asked quietly. 

“I promise. Now forever and always. You’re my wife, my one and only, now and forever more.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up. And then we can have a real conversation- we’re a team, sweetheart. Don’t ever forget that. I love you. I promise.”

[tarjapearce]

I just saw the question about Gabriella asking her mother if her boobs will be as big as hers one day and it made me remember the Szene of the movie. And that made me thing of Gabriella asking that question her father Miguel instead

😂😂 OMG

----

"Papa?"

"Hm?" he was looking at his computer screen when Gabriela entered his office.

"Mama uses bras, right?"

His head whipped to face her, brown eyes staring at him with wonder.

"Uh, yes she does. Why?"

"Bras are used to hold big boobs right?"

He nodded

"Do you use one?"

He blinked at her words, as his face was trying to find the right emotion that fit the situation.

"I mean, you have big boobs as well."

Miguel sighed softly and put the laptop away.

"Do you have milk in there, like Mama?"

Miguel couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

"No, mi sol. It's different for men." He sat her on his thigh and ruffled her head softly.

"It's muscle."

"Do I have muscles?"

"Oh yeah, your body is full of them. Your face, arms, tummy, legs, even your tongue is a muscle."

"Really?" her nose scrunched up in wonder

"Really."

" So I will have muscles when I grow up?"

"Of course. If that's what you want."

Gabi smiled and left him alone. He just stared at her leaving, wondering where she was getting all these questions. He glanced at his chest and chuckled.