#<33 what a sweet reply thank you!!

[wildstar25]

"These? Hm, they'd look like something right out of a shop in Hingashi. So I'd place my bet on that. To be true I've little knowledge of their origin. They were a token of thanks from a shinobi I know.... is what I'd like to believe anyways, given I saved him from being stomped into the Azim steppe. That or he nabbed it from some town's shrine in hopes I'd saunter in one day and get locked up. ... Y'look like you know a thing or two 'bout blades, maybe we can figure it out together? C'mere, don't be shy, I've coin to spare for a drink; if you'll have one."

Arsay and Hazel would get along swimmingly! She loves telling tales of her and her friends adventures just as much as she loves hearing them from others. How else is she to know what great wonders lie out in the world? I can picture the fun they'd have sharing a meal, talking weapons, joking around, etc. Of course Arsay would happily join in on a hunt-in fact she has a couple bills on her person already- but helping out a new friend with their hunt takes precedent. While it doesn't take much to impress Arsay, she'd be absolutely taken by Hazel's skills and enthusiasm. Doubtless, this warrior of light would be doing her most to impress her fellow adventurer. With their mark slain and farewells exchanged, Arsay would hope they cross paths again on the road. Perhaps that they might share a nice meal by the fire and trade stories once more. She would not refuse another test of her talents, be it with another hunt or a sparing match.

shamelessly grabbing this trend from twitter. Can be based on vibes or first impressions from a hypothetical meeting or the like!

[jrueships]

I'm shy but you're one of my favorite people that I follow on this app. You're so funny and I wish I could be half as clever as you. You've introduced me to a lot of interesting people and ideas! Just wanted to pass on some appreciation on this Saturday night. Hope you're having a good time 🥰

THIS IS SO SWEET, HELLO????

[doeyedangel]

I feel like ive been so isolated and miserable the past few years i stopped reaching out to friends and have been really bad at keeping contact, but i feel im finally in a place where i have the energy i shouldve had a long time ago to be better about it!!! So im trying very hard to reach back out to old friends and its making me really happy how sweet people still are to me >.< idk it makes me very grateful for everyones patience with me🤍

[kurooh]

I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don’t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”

[mad-hunts]

if barton tried hard enough, he thought, imagining himself being literally anywhere else but the warehouse right then was easy. this place was never meant to be lived in for an extended period of time after all; despite the fact that it had appliances that you might see in an every day home like a fridge.

it put him on edge instead of at ease, and it certainly didn't better barton's mood when he stayed in it either, after all. but so long as he was allowed to dream within it to some degree... it was tolerable. plus, he had company here, courtesy of nico, jack, and barton also supposed jervis counted. nico had complicated feelings towards the doctor, though, and spending time around jack whilst in it thus far gave barton an unfortunate impression; which was that his own son was made nervous by him.

and the irony of it all was, barton only gathered that because he could feel cognitive empathy towards him. something that didn't include feeling but reasoning. therefore, the hopes of him somehow patching that up with jack someday were drastically decreased. barton vaguely listened to jervis respond to what he'd said about him being in the warehouse solely because of them; all of the words but one not quite having any actual impact on him, this being 'nightmares.'

the smell of the yuja tea that jack prepared for jervis, as fragrant in the air that it was, seemed to be the one thing keeping him from being sucked down a unpleasant train of thought. for someone who didn't feel human half the time, barton sure as hell experienced his own fair share of seeing 'ghosts' from the past and mourning the way some things had gone in his life. and regret, as well as sorrow, were practically intertwined in every single 'normal' person's life that he'd known.

speaking of regret, once he'd closed the curtains, something from the small cabinet hanging on the wall next to them fell to the floor. barton picked it up and was immediately reminded of why he kept this photo here instead of at his home. hiding it away helped alleviate the pain of not only loving someone and losing them, but also knowing that at the time it was taken, everything seemed fine.

'my 19th birthday party - spent right, with my handsome fiancé!' was written on the back in marcy's handwriting. barton felt like screaming and smashing something simultaneously. the photo was instead placed in his pant pocket, whilst he dragged his hands down his face and thanked his lucky stars that jervis wasn't exactly expecting any big conversations from him. barton's hand flexed by his side before he was changing his shirt, wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do after seeing that again.

grief was a thing he'd never been able to pend down how to deal with 'appropriately,' unfortunately. from marcy, to the momentary blink of an eye that felt like his bittersweet friendship with yves, to his son julien's death - barton thought he'd be destroyed by all of those losses for the longest time. but he supposed he was still here, god willing, or laughing at him more like if such a being did exist. barton noticed the fabric that was splitting on the blanket and how jervis very much appeared to be in his own world.

it was at that moment that he reached for something in that same cabinet he'd opened to change his shirt, finding that sewing thread and needle he'd stored in there long ago. barton kept it there because the shirt he was wearing had actually torn at some point and he'd fixed it. though, he had no use for it now, so he decided to put it on the edge of edge of the cabinet if jervis wanted it. but he didn't really know what he wanted. that night seemed to be a series of gut punches now as the other touched upon how jack was a good person and barton should be proud of him.

he blinked several times as he felt this sensation like something ugly was swirling within him. jack had always kind of gotten the short-end of the stick, and for what? ❝ ahh. well, sometimes i've found myself practicing behaviors towards him that my father used to use on me... but i try to stop myself when that happens. jack has come a long way, as the first time i met him, he was a scared two year old who was on his own with his brother. but now jack's a young man and very brave, despite maybe still being scared sometimes. ❞ barton cleared his throat then, ❝ that's normal though. so yeah, i am proud of him. ❞

barton turned his attention back to jervis and tilted his head at the other's sluggishness. being vulnerable like that surprisingly didn't feel too nerve-wracking, as he added just a bit more to the equation. barton gave the iv bag jervis was hooked up to a good squeeze, ❝ hmm. are you still in pain, jervis? or are you just tired? ❞ he observed the other silently and looked down at the cards before the both of them. that is, before barton heard jervis approve of him reading his fortune.

he drifted a hand along the cards then. choosing one that felt 'right' came without much difficulty to barton, and when he did, the reversed 'wheel of fortune' card for jervis's past. the next card he chose was the reversed 'six of swords' for jervis's present. barton flipped the last one for his future and was greeted by 'the sun,' which made him let out a soft 'huh' and smile a bit. ❝ well... i hate to start off with the past when you got this card, but i guess we have to. ❞ he was about to start interpreting jervis's fortune when jack came back into the room with the breakfast he promised the other. well, talk about convenient timing.

Jervis merely rolled his eyes at Barton’s remark, fingers biting into the fabric of the blanket as he pulled it around his shoulders like an old shawl. The plush material was a little threadbare at the corner; a tear disrupting the otherwise seamless fabric.

Sea-green and white plaid. Utilitarian, impersonal.

It sufficed perfectly; his thin frame was almost terminally intolerant to the cold. 27 years in Gotham had failed to inoculate him against the frigid rains and bone-chilling air sweeping off the harbor.

“Trust me, I’m well aware where I would be, if it weren’t for you both. I see enough of the place in my nightmares… so I don’t require any reminders.” He flexed his fingers around the teacup, feeling the warmth seep into his hands as he cautiously tipped the liquid into his mouth. It had a strange, but not unpleasant consistency, like warm, thin honey that slid smoothly over his tongue in a tangy blend of sweet and sour. Tiny bits of softened citrus peel floated in the syrupy mixture.

Barton’s IV pole scraped slightly along the concrete floor, a sharp metallic sound that mingled with the sudden rasp of the curtains being jerked shut. The room was clean and sparse, a sterile space designed to be free of clutter, yet a faint, telltale mustiness clung to the air—a lingering scent of damp fabric and stale dust that disinfectant alone couldn’t quite mask. Beyond the makeshift partition, the rest of the warehouse stretched out in vast, dark emptiness. The floor was cold, unpolished concrete, marred with cracks that split like spider webs. Dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast a harsh, uneven glow, barely cutting through the haze of dust that swirled in the air.

But, of course, beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to hideaways—especially when you’ve learned to take shelter wherever you can find it. Or when you were part of the criminal element.

How far he’d come and how little had truly changed.

Jervis glanced across the room at where his coat, shirt, and gloves rested neatly on the desk, carefully folded with almost surgical precision. He flexed his hands again around the teacup, feeling the phantom prickle of sensation where the wool-lined leather should be—an exposed vulnerability that gnawed at him, made his skin itch with invisible grime.

He sank his teeth into a particularly broad piece of yuja peel, the bitter tang releasing as he bit down; meanwhile, Barton’s voice drifted in one ear, out the other like the static hum on a faulty wireless. He chewed slowly, savoring the rind as he turned his attention back to the small tear in the blanket. Nodded intermittently.

Jervis’ callused, scarred fingers found the frayed edge; the fabric was worn thin and splitting, and he traced it absentmindedly, feeling the uneven fibers beneath his touch. For a moment, his thoughts shifted to the sewing kit buried somewhere in his bag, imagining the small spool of thread and the thin, glinting needles; each one ready to pierce the fabric and pull it back together.

As if stitching this small wound would make any real difference, he thought bitterly; like it could somehow soothe the cold reality pressing in on them from all sides… It was a small, pointless task, a flicker of control in a situation that felt like it was slipping away, unraveling faster than he could sew it back together. He knew it wouldn’t ameliorate anything—wouldn’t solve the problems looming larger than this tiny, frayed corner. And yet, his fingers lingered there, desperate for something tangible to fix; something he could make whole again, if only for a moment.

Jervis gave no reply as Barton moved to change his shirt; blinking hard as he gazed down at the floor, but the darkness behind his eyelids refused to stay empty. Flecks of indigo light bloomed in the black, shifting like dust motes that twisted with each beat of his heart. The room swam as he opened his eyes again, the ceiling blurred and murky like the styrofoam cup Alice stored her wet paintbrushes in. He scratched absently at the IV in his arm, feeling the tug of the thin plastic embedded in his skin but barely registering the discomfort. The bright pinpricks danced at the edges of his vision, trailing like little comets whenever he turned his head.

“You ought to be proud of him, I imagine. Your son… he seems like a good lad.” Jervis’ voice was a wisp of silk, smooth and thin, like it might unravel into nothing if he spoke too loudly. He tilted his head slightly, almost resembling a marionette on a slack string, the hint of a smile touching his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. He ran a finger along the rim of his teacup, the motion delicate and deliberate as he pondered Barton’s final query.

“Hmm… can you?” Gray eyes blinked slowly, the lids heavy and sluggish, further dragged down by fatigue. The question lingered in the air, softly innocuous. He glanced over at the tarot cards Jack left behind on the desk—arranged in a rough, careless spread, but somehow feeling deliberate, as though the cards had fallen exactly where they were meant to. The edges were worn, curling slightly; the images esoteric, half-familiar symbols. Stars, sun, moon, cups and swords, animals and human figures rendered in faded colors.

He paused, gaze narrowing, subtly curious despite the exhaustion that weighed down his expression. For a moment, his hand tightened around his teacup; twitched like he might reach out and touch them, as if by brushing the surface he could glean some hidden answer buried beneath the painted ink.

‘Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all.’

His grip on the blanket slipped momentarily, fumbling at the worn edge before he reached for his collar instead. He dug beneath the charcoal fabric of his T-shirt, searching with a practiced motion until his fingers found the tarnished silver chain again. He drew it out slowly, the weight of it comforting against his skin as he absently ran his thumb over his and Sylvie’s rings, threaded side by side on the links.

The metal was dull, no longer shining with the luster it once had, but it carried a certain softness now, smoothed by years of worry. His eyes dropped for a second before he let the chain slip back beneath his shirt. “By all means, if it tickles your fancy…” Jervis gave a short, rough half-shrug, the motion stunted as though his shoulder couldn’t quite decide whether to follow through.

[tojisun]

I’m soooooo obsessed with your poolverine! Especially where Logan is fucking reader while Wade watches!

But what if Wade gets so desperate that he cums untouched just humping his rosey leaking cock into the air as he watches Logan fill you round after round

teehee thank you!! and this is so delish oh my goood <33 // cw: SMUT; afab!reader; poly with set power dynamics (dom logan, sub reader n sub wade); voyeurism; praise kink // divider by @/plutism

it’s—

it’s heinous, really, how wolve-fuckin’-rine could just go for hours fucking you, breeding you, while leaving wade leaking like a motherfucker. tearing up too, sure, but he’s still got his mask on so they can all pretend that he isn’t truly crying.

(he’s actually weeping but, well, semantics.)

it started the way it always does.

“stay there, bub,” logan sniped, his grin just a bite too mean, but wade didn’t even fight back because the three of you are used to this back-and-forth; of logan taking you like even after all these years, he still had to stake his claim, while wade was made to wait.

after all, this game is one of a hunt; it starts with wade waiting, raptly watching the way logan devours you, before being allowed the scraps—licking logan’s cum off your cunt, wade’s tongue pushing you to another shaking orgasm.

a hyena that is allowed to feast after the lion had its fill.

but it was different today—logan was more mean. he was more impatient to wade.

logan kept going; fucking his thick fingers in your cunt, crooning how he was doing this for your own good.

“shh, yer not ready for pups yet, darl,” he hummed, a heavy hand pressing down on your stomach to stop your thrashing; holding you down to force his thick fingers in, and scooping out his cum amidst the squelches of your cunt.

you keened, fisting the sheets as tears leaked out of your eyes, wetting your already-damp cheeks.

“s’too much!” you cried, unable to stop your hiccupping. “l’gan, please!”

but logan just nuzzled his maw on the inside of your thighs, puffing out breathy chuckles.

wade was straining then, his grip breaking the wooden arm rests. he ignored the splinters digging into his flesh, unable to do anything that wasn’t watching.

waiting.

he was slowly realizing that he would not have his turn today.

logan has you in a mating press now.

you’ve yelled so many times, warning logan—warning them—that you’re cumming but there was no gushing squirt nor trickling cum, and the two of them realize with hitched breaths that logan’s finally fucked you into dry orgasming.

it was a delicious sight, one that pushed wade to finally free his cock from inside his suit.

logan had shot him a gleeful look, his ravenous eyes tracking down the mess that wade has become—heaving chest, leaking cock, mask finally damp with his tears.

(you’ve glanced at your lover too, devouring how he looks, ever so patiently waiting even when he’s been denied for hours now.

wade always chirps. he’s always filled the silence with his chatter, but he’s been so, so quiet today. like he’s at a loss for words, unable to sound any more that isn’t ragged wheezes. like by staying quiet, he’s able to force himself to not jump you or to not touch his own cock.

fuck, what a good boy wade is.)

“almost, bub,” logan murmurs to wade, humping his cock in you like he’s affirming his own words. the action forces another choked moan out of you, and wade’s cock jumps, pre- dripping down his length.

logan tracks it throughout.

“yeah?” wade finally rasps out, his voice sounding so utterly broken. “y’fuckin’ swear?”

logan rolls his eyes at his words before huffing a fond laugh.

“swear on it,” logan replies, licking at his salty lips.

he pauses, turning his attention back to you. he ruts his cock in, nudging at the pudgy walls of your pussy with a pleasured hiss.

(you’re an unbelievable marvel, peanut. all soft and sweet.

all so delicious.)

amidst your high-pitched squeals, logan shoots wade another glance. he looks even more hungry now, and wade doesn’t get to ask his stuttered ‘what?’ when logan croons, “‘fore that, won’t y’cum for me, pool?”

wade’s body jumps to obey the order, only—

“but no touchin’ yerself.”

the whine wade lets out is so pathetic and broken, but it only makes logan smile wider, like he knows wade would be a good mutt and follow his command—

jesus. thinking about logan praising him just made him ultra-horny.

wade shuffles on his spot without a word, legs parting even wider to make it easier for himself. he’s so busy squirming at the feeling of the cool air wrapping around his cock that he’s missed you and logan changing positions on the bed—you’re riding logan now, your back to his chest, with logan’s chin hooked on your shoulder as the two of you watch wade.

wade curses underneath his breath when he finally looks up, and it tickles a giggle from you. it quickly peters into a high keen when logan fucks you up the length of his cock before dropping you down, using gravity to sit you snug and stuffed full.

fuck.

wade’s bitten moans spill into the hot space between the three of you, and he wonders: between you and wade, who is logan’s prize?

whose keening desperation is logan watching?

wade humps at nothing, unable to stop himself anymore. he times it with logan’s manhandling of your body—thrusting up when logan grasps at the back of your thighs to lift you up from his cock; then pressing back down on the couch when logan drops you back to engulf the entirety of his length.

wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that it doesn’t even take a while before his whole body is locking, pleasure and desperation mixing like a vice to grip at his body.

his orgasm builds—

“cum f’me, wade,” logan sings, sounding so utterly soft like he’s not in control of both you and wade’s pleasures, but wade has always been logan’s good boy. always been desperate for logan. always—

his orgasm rips him apart—that is the only way wade can explain it.

it wracks his body with unimaginable tremors, like wade’s body is undergoing its own earthquake. he nearly blacks out at the pleasure, and it should be embarrassing—it will be, later when logan’s cock is in his throat and your strap is fucking wade’s hold, and the two of you are murmuring how wade is your precious and desperate little cum slut—but right now, he basks in the pleasure and the pride shining in logan’s eyes.

jesus fuck. that was good.

biting a rock bcuz this one rlly had me sweating like mmmmy god

im so sorry if this is bad 😣 wrote this while walkin’ around the mall so it might be choppy n clipped in some parts GAH

wade gets a turn (somewhat)

[pastryfication]

oscar taking care of his girlfriend who’s suffering with nausea and dizziness. like he helps her around the house, brings her food, turns into her personal blanket… i am a sucker for sweet bf oscar piastri

i’ll always take care of you

pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: haven’t proofread this so i apologise for any mistakes!! hope you like it <33

oscar had always been attentive—the most observant and caring boyfriend you’ve ever had—but today he seemed to have turned his attentiveness into a whole new art form.

you’d been feeling unwell since the morning—waves of nausea and dizziness that left you unsteady on your feet and far too tired to do much more than rest on the couch. he noticed the moment he saw you, a concerned frown creasing his brow as he knelt beside you.

“hey, you okay?” he asked softly, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead.

you managed a small smile, though it was weak. “just feeling a bit off. dizzy and nauseous. i think i might need to rest.”

oscar’s frown deepened as he nodded immediately. “okay, you stay right there,” he said firmly, standing up. “i’ll get you some water and maybe something light to eat, just in case.”

he moved around the kitchen with a quiet efficiency, fetching a glass of cold water and preparing a small plate of plain toast. when he returned, he set everything down on the coffee table beside you and sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your face.

“here,” he murmured, holding the glass to your lips. “just sip a little, don’t force it.”

you did as he said, taking small sips of water, grateful for his patience. oscar watched you with that focused expression he usually reserved for the track, like nothing else mattered but making sure you were okay. after a few sips, you leaned back, closing your eyes as another wave of dizziness washed over you.

“this feeling sucks,” you muttered, frustrated with how your body seemed to betray you. “i can’t even stand up without feeling like i’m going to fall over.”

oscar shook his head and slid an arm around your shoulders, gently guiding your body to rest against him. “you’re just not feeling well, love, and that’s okay. i’m here to help, alright?”

you sighed, leaning into his warmth, your head resting on his shoulder. “don’t you have something better to do?”

oscar’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. “you’re not a burden if that’s what you think.” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “i want to take care of you. it’s what i’m here for.”

he rubbed your back soothingly, his touch light and comforting. he held you like that for a while, his body warm against yours, his steady breathing helping to calm the spinning sensation in your head. you felt a little better, enough to open your eyes and look up at him.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft. “you’re too good to me.”

he smiled, his hand moving to gently stroke your hair. “you deserve it,” he replied. “and besides, i kind of like holding you like this.”

you laughed softly, the sound weak but genuine. “oh, yeah? planning to keep me warm and cozy forever?”

oscar’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with affection. “that’s the plan,” he said. “but first, let’s get you to the bedroom so you can lie down properly.”

he stood up slowly, snaking his arms around your body to lift you bridal style. his touch was gentle, as if you were made of glass, and when you held onto his bicep for safety when he started moving, he smiled softly down at you.

when you finally reached the bed, he helped you sit down and then guided you to lie back, adjusting the pillows behind you. he pulled the blanket up over you and tucked it around your sides, his hands smoothing the fabric with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“do you want anything else?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “more water? a different snack? i can get you whatever you need.”

you shook your head. “just . . . stay with me?”

oscar’s expression softened, and he nodded immediately. “of course,” he said, climbing into the bed beside you. he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

his warmth seeped into you, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm beneath your ear. he held you like that, like you were something precious and fragile, his fingers tracing light patterns along your arm. every so often, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring softly about nothing in particular—little stories, jokes, anything to distract you from the discomfort.

you felt yourself relaxing more, the dizziness fading slightly with the comfort of his touch and his presence. you closed your eyes, breathing in his scent, and felt a small smile form on your lips. “i’m so lucky to have you,” you murmured sleepily.

oscar’s arms tightened around you just a little bit more, his lips brushing against your hair. “no,” he whispered back, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “i’m the lucky one.”

[luvsupa]

003 | JEALOUSY?

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, angst, tension, smut, ōral sex + fingering (f!recieving), petnames, revenge sex. don’t know what to add </3, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SOSO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS <33

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

you lie in bed, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling, sleep evading you entirely. he floods your mind—lewd images, the sounds, the intoxicating scent that clings to your senses, refusing to leave.

his voice.

sukuna, the king of curses, always knew exactly how to get into your head, how to twist your thoughts until he owned every part of you. you scrunch your face in frustration, knowing he sees you as a plaything—something weak, something to be toyed with.

you glance around the room at the other servants, sleeping peacefully in their single beds, until your gaze lands on yorozu’s bed, neatly made and empty.

a bitter feeling stirs inside you—she had spent the night in sukuna’s bed. yet, even as he fucked her senseless, his attention was entirely on you. his eyes, those cursed, cruel eyes, never left you.

quietly, you rise, slipping on a thin cotton robe. with careful steps, you tiptoe out of the room, the wooden door creaking slightly as it opens. you nearly scream as uraume appears before you, arms crossed, their expression as neutral as ever.

“g-good morning, uraume,” you stammer, bowing slightly in respect.

“the king has requested you clean his chambers,” uraume states, and just hearing his name sends a shiver down your spine. that twisted bastard—he’s trying to get inside your head again.

“tell sukuna i do not wish to see him,” you reply coldly. for the first time, you see a flicker of shock on uraume’s face, their eyebrows raising at your blatant disrespect toward the king of curses.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be starting my duties early.” you walk past them without another word, leaving uraume speechless at your audacity as you head toward the garden doors.

the sun peeks over the tall mountains, casting a warm glow over the vibrant garden. you stand for a moment, looking up at the orangey-blue sky, before walking deeper into the garden.

you begin your work alone, plucking ripe fruits and vegetables, making sure everything looks perfect. but then, you freeze.

you can feel his presence, dark and oppressive, lingering somewhere nearby.

your heart races. he’s angry—you know it. you must have upset him by refusing his orders. you keep plucking the fruit, desperately trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as his aura thickens, almost suffocating you.

and then, suddenly, his presence vanishes.

you furrow your brow in confusion, turning to scan your surroundings. nothing. he’s gone just like that?

you try to convince yourself that he’s gone, but before you can fully relax, a rough hand grips your face, yanking you around. your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself face to face with sukuna. he looms over you, taller and more terrifying than you remember, his four eyes glowing with a predatory hunger that makes your blood run cold.

“you thought you could ignore me?” he growls, his voice low, almost a purr, but the underlying threat is unmistakable. his grip tightens, forcing you back against the rough bark of a towering oak tree. he’s so close, his body heat searing into you, his scent, a heady mix of blood and something darkly sweet—overwhelming your senses.

“you think you can defy me, woman?” his voice is deceptively soft, but it only makes the fear coil tighter in your chest. his lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he inhales deeply, savouring your scent. “you’ve been blocking me out, haven’t you? my clever little girl.”

his words are laced with a twisted kind of praise, but there’s nothing comforting in it. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of your ear, making you squirm involuntarily. his grip on your face is firm, almost possessive, as he presses himself against you, his presence overpowering.

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the defiance in your words only makes him chuckle darkly.

“such a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. his other hand trails up your neck, his fingers elongating into sharp, black claws that press dangerously against the pulsing vein in your throat. he’s toying with you, every touch calculated to draw out your fear, your arousal.

“so brave, yet you tremble under my touch,” sukuna’s voice is a husky whisper, dripping with sadistic pleasure as he watches your reaction. you hate the way your body responds to him, how the proximity makes your heart race, your thighs press together in a vain attempt to quell the heat building inside you.

his bottom eyes catch the movement, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “how delightful,” he sneers, releasing your neck and stepping back, leaving you breathless and trembling against the tree.

sukuna hums, turning to leave without a word, no goodbye, nothing. you’re left standing there, breathless and shaking, knowing you’ll never truly escape his grasp.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the evening buzzes with activity as servants and guards rush to prepare the dining hall for the zenin clan’s arrival. you overhear whispers about toji, the head of the clan, who commands both fear and respect. a secluded home within the estate has been prepared for their stay, a gesture of hospitality from sukuna himself.

you slip into more formal attire, the fabric soft against your skin, when a soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. uraume steps in, their expression unreadable.

“the king—”

“i’ve already spoken to him, uraume,” you interject, catching a flicker of irritation in their eyes.

“the king has requested that you serve the food at dinner for the zenin clan,” uraume continues, their tone firm. your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can protest, they add, “i will not tolerate any disrespect towards sukuna-sama, so i suggest you comply.” with that, they leave, offering no room for argument. you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing sukuna is up to something.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the estate is a flurry of movement as everyone gathers outside to greet the zenin clan. the grand entrance is framed by koi ponds and cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting in the breeze. the noise of the crowd quiets as everyone falls into place, a wide path left clear for sukuna and uraume.

the chatter dies as word spreads that sukuna is approaching. everyone bows as the double doors swing open, revealing sukuna in a black kimono with gold accents, his hair slicked back with a few strands falling against his face.

fuck. he looks so good, you think, your heart skipping a beat.

uraume follows behind him as they move toward their spot at the front. just as sukuna passes by you, your heart clenches. you barely manage to lower your head in respect as you notice his hand intertwined with yorozu’s. she throws a smirk your way, and your eyes flicker between them. a gasp escapes your lips as you catch sukuna’s lower eye locked on you, a smirk playing on his lips as well.

the gates swing open, and the zenin clan’s carriages roll in, the horses' hooves echoing against the stone. the zenin’s guards step out first, followed by a tall, broad man in a black haori. he moves with an air of authority, his eyes locking onto sukuna’s with a tension so thick it feels like the air might crack.

“zenin,” sukuna calls out, their gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance. toji strides forward, his hands casually behind his back, his presence as commanding as sukuna’s.

“ryomen,” toji responds, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. you study him more closely, noting the scar on his lip, the sharpness of his gaze. he catches you staring, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. sukuna’s gaze follows toji’s, his jaw tightening, a vein pulsing at his temple as he harshly releases yorozu’s hand.

“uraume, show our guests to the dining hall,” sukuna orders, his voice low, his breath quickening with barely restrained anger. toji’s eyes flick between you and sukuna, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he catches onto the tension.

as uraume leads toji and the rest of the zenin clan inside, toji deliberately brushes past sukuna, the slight contact sparking a flash of rage in sukuna’s eyes. he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to unleash his wrath, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

sukuna, toji, and the rest of the zenin clan settle into the dining room, the air thick with chatter and underlying tension. you stand quietly in the corner behind toji, your gaze drifting to sukuna seated at the other end of the table. yorozu is by his side, her smile wide as she leans into him, desperate for his attention while he pets her head, his eyes never leaving you.

the chefs signal that the food is ready, and you step forward, carrying the largest, heaviest plate. as you approach sukuna, yorozu stifles a laugh, her eyes gleaming with mischief. you carefully place the dish in front of sukuna, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, making your heart race with nervous energy.

you retreat back to your spot behind toji, aware that he’s been watching your every interaction with sukuna. he hums, a smirk tugging at his lips as he senses the tension.

“is the food to your liking, lord zenin?” you ask softly, leaning down so only he can hear. but sukuna’s piercing red eyes catch every movement, his stare burning into you. toji turns to you, his gaze appreciative as he sets his utensils down.

“y’er a cute one, hmm? call me toji, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with charm. you smile, flustered by the attention, while across the table, yorozu desperately tries to capture sukuna’s interest, even going so far as to eat from his plate in an attempt to please him.

suddenly, sukuna’s voice booms out, calling your name with a force that silences the entire room. all conversation stops as you freeze, your exchange with toji abruptly cut short. you take a hesitant step toward sukuna’s side of the table, but before you can move any further, toji grabs your arm. you gasp, turning to find him grinning, his eyes alight with mischief.

in one swift motion, toji pulls you into his lap, your squeal echoing in the now-silent dining room. “ryo’, let the girl rest, yeah? workin’ too much, baby, isn’t that right?” he coos, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. sukuna’s expression darkens, his anger barely contained, only held in check by uraume’s firm grip on his shoulder, reminding him of the guests in the room.

the dinner continues, but the atmosphere is charged. sukuna’s eyes never leave you and toji, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. toji, sensing sukuna’s barely restrained anger, keeps pushing, his hands wandering over your thighs, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers sweet, seductive words.

toji takes your hand, kissing it softly, his eyes locked on sukuna’s with a smug, taunting look. sukuna’s fists clench, his entire body tense as he fights the urge to tear toji apart.

“meet me in my chambers,” toji murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. you giggle, caught up in the flirtation, but the sound barely leaves your lips before sukuna abruptly stands, the ancient chair crashing to the floor.

“dinner is over,” sukuna announces, his voice cold and final. confusion ripples through the room as he storms out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. yorozu calls after him, but he doesn’t even glance back, his rage blazing as he disappears from sight.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as nighttime falls, you find yourself at the guest estate just a few minutes from the main one. with a nervous knock, toji answers the door, his grin widening before he pulls you into a deep, feverish kiss. your tongues intertwine, frantic and messy, at the entrance where anyone might witness the two of you.

toji pulls away, his large hand cupping your face. “who is sukuna to you?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur that makes you choke on your saliva, caught off guard.

“h-he’s my king, toji,” you stammer, leaning into his touch, your breath coming fast. he chuckles, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

“i see how he looks at you—he’s always been possessive with… women,” he says, his gaze wandering as a wicked thought forms.

“are you up for something adventurous?” he whispers, his lips trailing fiery kisses down your neck. you tilt your head, desperate for more.

“I want you, toji,” you whimper, and he chuckles, pulling out a black blindfold from his pocket.

was he prepared for this all along?

“may I put this on you?” he asks, his voice dripping with anticipation. you nod eagerly, unable to contain your desire. toji smirks, guiding you to turn around as he binds the fabric over your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

you ache to see him, to watch the way he moves, but the blindfold denies you that pleasure. “we just need to walk a bit, and I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises, his arms lifting you in a bridal style.

the journey feels endless until he finally lays you down on the softest bed you’ve ever felt. he undresses you slowly, making you shiver with anticipation.

toji’s mouth descends on your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples- alternating from each breast.

“n-need you inside me,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. he kisses his way down your body, his lips blazing a trail to your aching cunt.

“such a needy one,” he teases, his voice rough as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. he circles your entrance, collecting your essence before pushing his fingers inside. your gasp is loud, your body arching as he thrusts deep, his fingers curling to hit your sweet spot. the room fills with the wet, lewd sounds of your pleasure.

“you’re drenched,” he growls, sliding his fingers out to deliver a stinging slap to your cunt, making you hiss. he licks his fingers clean, savouring your taste before diving into your pussy with feral intensity. his tongue explores every inch of your velvety walls, making you clench around him.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he groans into your core, the vibrations sending electric jolts through your body. your legs try to close around his head, but he forces them open, his face and the sheets below soaked with your arousal.

“toji, I need you inside me,” you moan, the knot in your stomach tightening, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“are you out of your fucking mind?”

you freeze.

your heartbeat halts as his voice cuts through the haze. confusion and fear grip you as you realize who’s in the room.

toji doesn’t stop; if anything, he devours you with even more intensity. loud slurping heard from below as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your cries.

shakily, you pull off the blindfold, blinking against the bright light. below you, toji’s face is a mask of wicked satisfaction, strands of saliva and cum connecting him to your swollen cunt.

your gaze travels to the end of the bed, and your blood runs cold. sukuna stands there, his four arms bulging with veins, his nails longer and sharper than before.

this is sukuna’s room—the very place where he was with yorozu the night before.

your eyes dart between toji and sukuna, realizing you’re in deep trouble. toji orchestrated this, deliberately placing you in sukuna’s room to fuel the tension between them. “m-my lord—” you begin, but toji spits flat on your cunt, slapping it loudly as you moan uncontrollably.

“c’mon, baby—tell ‘kuna how I’m making you feel.”

[stylesparker]

closer than friends

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman

A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33

"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.

"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."

You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.

You huff, "I don't want a word from you."

"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."

"What did I just say?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."

While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.

You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.

You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.

"Is that better?" He asks.

"It was fine before."

"I'll keep it like this anyway."

You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.

When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.

"Alright, let's go."

You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"Close to ten."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.

It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.

After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.

If you need us. - S

Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.

When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.

His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.

"Hi," you respond back, even softer.

Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.

He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"

You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.

"Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.

You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.

"I can't either," you say quietly.

With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.

Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.

He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.

"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.

You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.

You couldn't.

But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.

You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.

"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.

Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.

You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.

"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."

You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.

About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.

"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.

...

"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"

"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.

"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"

"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."

You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.

"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."

"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.

"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.

You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.

"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.

"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.

"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.

"You alright?" You ask jokingly.

"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"

"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.

When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.

"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"

You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."

"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"

"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."

"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.

...

A couple weeks later

"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.

"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.

"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.

"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.

The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.

"Sam." You say impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."

"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.

"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"

"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"

You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."

A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.

"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."

"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."

"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."

"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"

"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"

"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.

He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.

"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.

"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"What, he was bothering me."

He smiles, "I don't doubt it."

He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.

You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.

"What happened?"

"You happened, you idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"

Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.

"D-Dean... I can't just-"

"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.

He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.

He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.

"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"

You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"

"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.

He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.

Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.

"You have the key?" You query.

"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm in love with you."

Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.

He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.

"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.

Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.

"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.

He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."

You don't say anything again, but he continues.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."

"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."

When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.

"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.

"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."

His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.

"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.

"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."

"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"

You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."

"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.

"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.

Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"

Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.

"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"

"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.

"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"

"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"

"Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare."

...

The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.

Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.

You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.

Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.

"Kids."

[gtgbabie0]

how do you think a marriage between cregan and a lannister daughter would go?

love ur writing! keep up the good work <33

-Cregan Stark x LannisterWife!Reader

Synopsis: {Your Lord husband seems to be the only one who can calm you}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

This is an old request but thank you nonetheless// hope you enjoy my lovelies💕

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You were a comely girl, always have been so it was no surprise that the Lord Stark had taken an interest in you during his time in the Red Keep- in which you were sent by members of your house to try and get your family back into the good books of the people in the court.

A feat you weren’t so successful in, having been turned away by numerous people or called horrid things behind your back sometimes plainly to your face. Every day spent at court was a blow to your pride, and gods did it make you a bitter person.

Cregan Stark found entertainment in your company, through his blunt banter and snarky remarks the way in which you would come back at him with all your might. Before he knew it he was completely infatuated with you and made an offer you simply couldn’t refuse, leaving Kings Landing.

Sometimes you regret ever accepting the damn deal.

“Get any closer and you’ll set that pretty blonde hair of yours on fire.” His rough voice breaks through the silence from his place at the desk where he had been reading through a couple of letters.

You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to the flames that crackle and snap within the hearth just in spite at the sound of his chuckle. He watches you closely, marvelling at how the warm orangey light of the flames splay across your face making your hair glow like fine threads of golden silk.

“Perhaps if it weren’t so cold then I wouldn’t have to sit this close.” You huff, pulling his furs that you had stolen over your shoulders.

“Winterfell is built upon a hot spring, the castle is plenty warm you’re just looking for an excuse to whine.” He says and you can practically hear the smirk that tugs on his handsome face.

You don’t answer him, instead letting silence and the soft sounds of the fireplace overtake your shared bedchambers however your lack of response doesn’t deter Cregan from continuing.

“You should wear something warmer than silks and airy dresses, my sweet.” The words are laced with amusement, he leans forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, searching your unimpressed expression with his dark eyes.

“And wear dull shades greys?… no thank you.” You tell him, not wanting to accept the fact that perhaps there was slight truth to his words, still not meeting his gaze.

“So you’d rather freeze for the sake of what? Fashion? Very smart of you.” He replies sarcastically. “Especially for a Lannister, quite impressive my love.”

Your head snaps over to his direction, glaring up at him with narrowed eyes as he all but smirks back at you. He never failed to rile you up, bringing you to a burning point only to leave you all frustrated or worse— when he touches you in such a reverent way that makes you feel like a goddess, you couldn’t help but completely bend to his will. You swear he takes joy in bruising your pride.

He reaches over, brushing a curl of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that he’s only ever shown to you and somehow just like that your anger ebbs away like snow underneath a summer's sun.

But you wouldn’t succumb that quickly and so you shrug off his hand, turning back to the fireplace with a small huff and he laughs because he knows- despite your little show- that he has you right where he wants you.

Cregan stands up from his chair, making his way over to a much more comfortable one that sits in front of the grand fireplace— closer to you. Despite how much you both clash at times he loves you, ever so dearly. He had defended you countless times back in Kings Landing and Winterfell, against anyone who dared try to speak poorly upon your name. Not just because of his marriage vows or honour, but because he sees you as you are not the hardened women the years had made of you.

There was a warmth to you, he’d seen it in glimpses. The way you care for his son as if he were your own, how you have your maids bring two cups of tea- one for him and one for you- to sate his sweet tooth.

You push yourself up from the floor, trying to distance yourself from him but he’s quick to catch your hips in his big hands. With a wolfish grin, he tugs you onto his lap and you accept defeat, it was too tiring to fight a man so headstrong.

“I’ll warm you up if you’re still cold.” He mumbles gruffly, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest.

The warmth from his study body melts away the tension between your shoulder blades and you can’t help but sigh in contentment, leaning against him as he tugs you impossibly closer to him.

His hands caress the curve of your hips, looking up at you with a lazy smile. “I am still a little cold, I wouldn’t mind.” You reply playfully, trailing your fingertips along his cheek in small patterns.

“Ah, there she is…” Cregan whispers, relishing at the sight of your smile that you try so hard to fight off.

“Yes, yes, marvel whilst you can, it won’t last long.” The words make Cregan chuckle, his hands mapping out the outline of your body, caressing along your ribcage.

“Then I shall marvel with all my heart.” He promises, pressing a kiss against your shoulder, then another to your jaw. The wispy hairs of his beard tickle your skin as he nuzzles against you on purpose.

A pleasured hum escapes you by accident and by the way he smirks against your neck you can tell he’s holding back some sort of snarky comment, instead choosing to savour this moment and the way you lean into his touch.

He takes his time, showering your shoulders in kisses- trailing his lips up to the soft curve of your jaw and pushing the furs that drape over your shoulders off until they’re sitting on the floor leaving you in just a thin silky dress.

“What’s gotten you in such a mood, huh?” Cregan asks, leaning back against the cushioned sofa to really drink in the sight of you perched upon his lap.

You shrug your shoulders, lacing your fingers with his own. “I feel out of place, more so than often.” The words send an ache through his chest, his brows immediately furrowing at the confession.

It wasn’t a new thing for him to hear, however, that never made it any easier. Cregan remembers the first night you arrived in the North, the tears— gods, you were inconsolable. He understood why, the place was far from home and the people were hardened by the cold weather and then there was you… the complete opposite in every way, that’s why he spent all night whispering words of comfort and holding you.

“Silly girl, come here.” He says, coaxing you to lay against his chest and without hesitation, you curl up into him, your head resting on his shoulder as his fingers brush through your silken hair. “I’d have no one else by my side except you, my girl, understand?” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your hairline.

You nod against his shoulder, melting against him with a small sigh. “Mhm, of course, I do.” Your words are muffled against the soft fabric of his tunic, the smell of firewood and leather clinging to him- it was comforting, like home.

Cregan tilts your head upwards slightly, his gaze softening as he admires your face. “Don’t doubt the place you have in my heart… ever.” He tells you with a loving tone, so soft and caring, before leaning down to steal a delicate kiss from your lips.

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[kisseobie]

“i didn't shave” and p1h¿

“i didn’t shave” with p1harmony

warnings: nsfw (mdni)

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

a/n: ugh something about a man not giving a flying fuck about body hair is sooo sexy like yes please lose sight of your mouth in my bush 😍 thank u for this request !!

✶ keeho

keeho is such a sweetheart, and that trait mixed with him always being realistic makes it so easy for kyo to hush away your insecurities in and out of the bedroom. this situation is no different—if the man wants to eat you out, no amount of hair is gonna stop him from doing so. if you voice out your concerns, he’s staring at you quizzically, but makes sure to quickly snap out of his confusion on your hesitance by using his words to reassure you that respectfully, he does not give a damn if you haven’t shaven. a part of the information you’ve relayed to your boyfriend makes him harder in his jeans, imagining you lounging around the house, completely natural. it’s sweet to him. if you’re still unsure, he’s whispering, “cmon, let me see you.”, which finally does the trick. he eats your pussy gentler than usual this time, kissing at your pubic hair and praising you for allowing him to do so <33

“atta girl. so fucking beautiful like this.”

✶ theo

you’re typically very eager every time taeyang pleads to taste your cunt, so when you close your legs before he can even drag your panties down your thighs, he’s a bit confused, but thinks maybe you’re feeling a bit shy this time? theo sits up a bit to look up at you, eyes making contact with yours, wordlessly asking you to tell him what you’re thinking about. as soon as the words, “i um, i haven’t shaven in a while, so maybe not today?” escape your lips, he’s replying with a gentle, “no, none of that. you look perfect like this. let me show you, please?”. you bite your bottom lip at his words, wanting nothing more than to be tongue fucked by your boyfriend, but doesn’t he find the fact that you haven’t shaven gross? you didn’t realize you said your thoughts out loud, melting—and leaking—at his response to your insecurities:

“it’s not gross at all actually. all i really care about is having your pussy sat on my face. now get on with it.”

✶ jiung

“why’re you shying away from me, pretty?” you want to coo at how he looks like a mouse that’s been denied a block of cheese, but you just shrug and relay to him that you haven’t shaven in a while and don’t want to subject him to that sight. he’s confused, doesn’t being in a loving relationship equate to seeing each other in your most natural and vulnerable states? jiung clearly isn’t having it, sitting up at grabbing at your hands, giving you that familiar pointed look his face adorns whenever he’s about to tell you something serious. you cut him off before he can go on a tangent, saying something along the lines of “you shave all the time, and i’ve always shaved before we’ve been intimate too..”

“so? it’s just hair? just lay down baby, i’ll take real good care of you..”

✶ intak

“you really think i care? don’t be silly y/n. i want you either way.” is how intak responds to your timid “wait, should i shave?”. the way he speaks to you as if it’s the most natural, obvious fact in the world eases away your previous anxious thoughts. you don’t care much for shaving, but you always did it for his peace of mind. you let out a breath of relief, opening up your legs for him to dig in to his well-earned meal. you sigh as your boyfriend licks a stripe up your pussy, moistening the hairs on the surrounding skin with his slobber. he’s more primal today than usual, putting in his best effort to make you feel as comfortable and sexy as he possibly can. you gasp and tug at his locks, pushing your hips down into his mouth to meet his pace, loving and savoring his obvious enthusiasm to eat you alive.

“just like that. fuckkkk, such a good girl for me, letting me taste your sweet pussy.”

✶ soul

you weren’t expecting shota’s response when you informed him that you haven’t shaven in a few weeks to be: “i prefer it this way actually.”, and you definitely didn’t have time to process his little confession before he hooked his fingers into the band of your miffy-printed panties, pulling them down your strawberry legs in one swift motion. you’re so close to giving in, to trusting his nonchalance, but you really haven’t shaven in a while, and you don’t personally think the sight is one your boyfriend would pop a boner to. the thoughts invading your mind have you closing your legs, and he pulls them open himself, shocking you.

“don’t be embarrassed baby. ‘s just me. can you keep your legs open for me?”

and fuck it, how can you say no to that? you’d inquire about his little pube fetish later, you suppose.

✶ jongseob

“angel, why are you hiding from me? do you not want this?”

always so attentive and understanding, your boyfriend pulls away from you right away, opting to grab at your face instead, and you admit you do regret pulling him away from being face-to-face with your pussy. the last thing you wanted was to make him feel like you don’t want this, knowing that jongseob would probably overthink the situation and blame himself for your own insecurities. you’re quick to laugh it off and explain yourself with a, “i want this! i promise! i just don’t know if you wanna go down on me right now, i haven’t shaved in a few weeks so i don’t want you to feel obligated to see me like that.”, and he smiles. laughs even. he sinks back down to his earlier position, looking up at your puzzled expression, followed with the words you were secretly hoping to hear.

“you’re so pretty either way, please don’t think i’m not gonna wanna eat this cunt just because of some hair..”

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04 @lunepoesie @haku-s0ultrain

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

✶ 𓅭 𓅮

[springtyme]

could you possibly write more about spence and girly reader ??! i absolutely adore the one with pink chess pieces its so so cute! maybe a little thing about girly reader always getting her lipstick/gloss on spencer? whatever you feel up for though - i love love love everything you write ! <33

𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ♡

Thank you so much, dear! and thank you so much for the request! I've had so much fun with this one and the prior girly! reader piece 💕 next part

Spencer Reid x girly!reader|| Masterlist || Spencer playlist

word count: 1.3k

summary: After spending your weekend with your boyfriend, you accidentally end up leaving some evidence behind that leads to Spencer’s work family finding out that their sweet boy wonder have someone special in his life.

As you stand in front of the mirror and put on the finishing touches to your makeup, Spencer can’t help but admire the way the soft morning sunlight illuminates your beautiful features. 

Spencer truly can’t believe that someone as beautiful as you exists in this world, especially not standing here in the bathroom of his apartment getting ready on a Monday morning, after the two of you have spent the whole weekend together. How did he end up getting so lucky?  

He watches with a smile at the way you furrow your brow in concentration. The way you lean in over the bathroom counter making his heart skip a beat as you begin applying your lip gloss, making your pretty lips shine in the sunlight.

The way you move with such grace and confidence leaves Spencer in awe, feeling like the luckiest man alive to have you by his side. The sound of your laughter from the memories of the weekend together echoes in his mind, filling him with warmth and contentment. 

The focused look on your face falls, being replaced with a wide smile that could light the darkest of rooms as you catch his gaze in the mirror. Spencer’s chest tightens with the realization that he has fallen for you to an extent he never thought possible for himself. The feelings that have been growing inside him have now blossomed into something undeniable and overwhelming.

“What are you thinking about, handsome?” you ask, already knowing the answer by the way he is looking at you, his soft, brown eyes shining with love and adoration. “Just how lucky I am to have you in my life,” Spencer replies, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist from behind.  

You can feel his warmth seeping into your skin as he leaves a sweet kiss on your temple, causing a shiver to run down your spine. With him holding you like this, you can’t help but feel a surge of love and gratitude flood your heart.

“I feel lucky too, Spence,” you say, turning around to face him, your eyes meeting his and reflecting the love and adoration you see in them. You can’t believe how much your feelings for him have grown in such a short amount of time, but you know deep down that he’s the one you’ve been waiting for.

As you lean in to capture his lips with yours, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that you’ve found someone who truly sees you for who you are and loves you unconditionally. 

“Are you ready to leave soon?” Spencer asks, clearly sad that work is calling you both back to reality. 

You nod with a smile. “Yeah, I’ll be done in just a minute,” you say with a soft smile before lifting yourself up on your tippy toes to plant a sweet kiss on his newly shaved cheek. 

· · · · ·

As Spencer walks into the BAU office, coffee in hand and a stack of files under his arm, he can’t help but smile to himself as he makes his way to his desk. He drove you to work before he came and he still can not quite shake the feeling of contentment and love that had lingered from the weekend spent with you.  

Derek’s already at his desk, flipping through a file, but he looks up as Spencer approaches. “You look too happy for a Monday morning, the weekend treated you that good, pretty boy?” he teases, raising an eyebrow at Spencer’s happy demeanor.

Spencer can’t help but smile a little wider, it was a really good weekend, but he tries to keep his emotions in check. He hasn’t told any of his coworkers about you yet, not because he doesn’t want to, he loves them and they are like family to him, and he loves you, but he just wants to keep this part of his life private just for a little while longer. 

He knows that if he tells the others about you, they’ll insist on meeting you. They have lovingly teased him and tried to meddle with his lack of a love life for years, and he knows how excited they would be, him being the youngest member of the team and all, essentially being the nerdy baby brother of their little work family. But he isn’t quite ready for that yet. He wants to savor this feeling of falling in love, of being with you for just a little while longer. 

His job is also very demanding and can be unpredictable and also quite dangerous. He wants to make sure that your relationship is stable and he wants to keep you from any potential harm or worry that may come with dating him for as long as possible, and you meeting his colleagues can wait a little longer. Yet he can’t help but wanting to tell Derek  

“Yeah, it was good,” Spencer replies, taking a sip of his coffee to try and hide the slight blush that creeps up on his cheeks, setting the stack of files down on his desk.  

Derek smirks knowingly, but doesn’t push the subject any further for a little while. Spencer gets to drink about half of his coffee before Derek breaks the silence again. “So, when are you going to introduce us to this mystery lady you’ve been spending all your time with?” Derek asks, a playful glint in his eye. 

Spencer hearts skips a beat as he looks up, meeting Derek’s gaze, a knowing smile playing on the other man’s lips. 

“Don’t worry I don’t think the others have noticed anything, but I know you too well, pretty boy,” Derek pauses for a moment, clearly entertained by the look of surprise on Spencer’s face, before continuing. “But I have a feeling they’ll all be very excited to meet her. And hey, if she’s got you smiling like that, she must be pretty special.”

“So now I can’t smile without there needing to be a reason behind it,” Spencer chuckles nervously, he should have known that he wouldn’t be able to hide this from Morgan for that long.

“Nah, not when you smile like that,” Derek says, a genuine warmth in his voice. “You also got a little something on your cheek there, player.” Derek points to his own cheek with a smirk to indicate where it is. 

Spencer furrowed his brow in confusion and reached up to touch his cheek. His fingers brushing over something sticky, and when he pulls them away there is a faint pink smudge on his skin.

Spencer feels heat rise to his cheeks, starting to stammer. “I... uh... well, that is, um…”

Before he can come up with a coherent response, Emily and JJ approach, their curiosity piqued by the interaction between Spencer and Derek.

“What’s going on here?” Emily asks, glancing between the two men.

Derek just grins mischievously and points at Spencer’s cheek. “Our boy genius here seems to have had a really good weekend, but he’s forgetting to clean up after himself,” Derek says, chuckling.

Spencer’s eyes widen in horror as Emily and JJ both lean in to get a closer look. The blush on his cheek deepens, spreading across his face as he struggles to find the right words.

“Spencer, is that lip gloss on your cheek?” JJ asks with a knowing smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Spencer says, trying to wipe the reminiscences of your kiss off with his sleeve, despite knowing it was too late. Emily and JJ both share a look before bursting into laughter, causing Derek to join in as well. 

As Emily and JJ start to bombard him with questions and congratulations, Spencer can’t help but steal a glance at Derek, who winks at him knowingly, looking like a proud older brother and Spencer can’t help but smile. 

Maybe it is time to introduce you to his family after all.

[gay-dorito-dust]

:33 can you imagine Ford reading his book trying so hard to focus on the paragraph but like- He’s so distracted by Reader’s kisses and snuggles like like they’re acting like a cat and Ford just kalskskdjskdk

Ford was trying his hardest to get through the paragraph, he really was, but when you were sleepy ford found that you tended to become more affectionate. As was the case when he felt you snuggle up into his side as closely as you physically could while pressing tender kisses to his jaw and side of his neck.

‘Beloved.’ Ford said softly.

‘Yes my dearest?’ You purred, nuzzling your head into his chest, pressing a kiss there because you felt like it, that and you didn’t think you give Ford as much affection as he deserved…also the little hitches in his breathing were delicious.

‘I’m- im trying to read and you’re being quite-‘

‘Distracting?’ You asked and you could see the blush spreading across his face as his fingers toyed with the corners of the pages belonging to the book he was reading. For someone as smart and eloquent as him, you lived for the days where you got to see him be flustered and unsure of himself when it can to displaying affection, especially seeing as he had went without such for a good majority of his life.

‘I’m afraid so my dear, you know how easily affected I am by your preferred form of affection.’ Ford replied, feeling his mind falter and freeze upon feeling your lips once again kindly greet the skin of his jawline, little kisses scattered across it that it almost felt ticklish. He knew you were smiling and feeling proud of yourself because he could feel it pressed up against the pulse point of his neck.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about my sweetheart,’ you spoke against his skin, closing your eyes as you felt his skin grow warmer under your lips as his pulse pulsed against them as though eagerly reciprocating your kisses with his quick it was going, ‘I thought a man like you could keep his composure.’ You added with a chuckle, knowing from firsthand experience that wasn’t the case at all.

‘I’m afraid that does not count when in the presence of a true beauty of a person such as you may love.’ Ford felt you stiffen as he smiled to himself, yes he could be poetic as they come, he had to read Jane Austen’s books for a class once in college and could recite anything from that book off by heart from how often he annotated the poor book front to back, and in incredible depth too.

‘Who knew you’d be a man of such flattering words Stanford.’ You teased as you were now practically half sat on his lap that Ford had to lay a hand against the small of your back to keep you pressed against. Ford chuckles as he hurries his face into your head, hiding his sweet smile, ‘only for you my dear, only for you.’ He chants softly and you couldn’t help but thank whom ever for bringing Ford to you, for he was the best thing to have ever happened in your life, and you would gladly dedicate yourself to showing him just how much you adore him; it was the least you could do for the man you loved to death.

‘You deserve to be caressed by words, not showered in them. kissed, not smothered. Praised with words whispered in your ears rather than out loud in public as though it was a spectacle. I want to love you in moments like these, soft, slow, forgettable to most but memorable to others who don’t live life in the fast lane and forget to cherish the quieter parts in life.’ You tell Ford sincerely as you positioned your head back to rest against his shoulder, while his hand absentmindedly stroked your side softly, slowly; his book long forgotten as you both decided to enjoy each others company without making a freaks spectacle out of it.

[gentaro-kinniecom]

New Beginnings

Characters: Zayne/fem!reader

C/w: 1.4k! (Read at your own risk, meant for +18) mentions of breeding, married life, somewhat graphic descriptions of sex. Zayne wants to be a father although he doesn't admit it..he just wants to get you knocked up.

A/n: Finished writing this instead of my english essay because... There's also a Rafayel fanfic in the making so stay tuned for more <33

“Zayne? It’s 1am, you still haven’t come back to bed..” I said, leaning against the door frame as he sighed, typing away on his computer while passing a hand across his hair, trying to calm himself down. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I’ll be there”

“That’s what you said an hour ago..you’re tiring and exhausting yourself to the point of death at this point” Zayne sighed, closing his laptop and getting up from his desk chair, walking towards me with a soft grin trying to comfort me. 

“Are you satisfied now?” He asked, hugging my waist as we walked towards our shared bedroom. Ever since we got married, Zayne has gotten more work than usual piled up on his desk every time I go to visit him at work. It worries me that he’s overworking himself because of money, which hasn’t been an issue at all given he’s a doctor and works in a very respected hospital. But what other reason might it be? I laid in our shared bed, feeling myself drift away to sleep when suddenly, Zayne wrapped his arms around my waist. 

“Mhm, thank you” I replied, snuggling up to him while caressing his soft dark strands of hair that fell on his face, smiling. He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite grasp as Zayne kissed me goodnight. I couldn’t help but stay awake for a few minutes, looking at the city lights by the window and back at Zayne’s sleeping form beside me.

Woken up by the sound of something crashing from the kitchen, I got out of bed with a small yawn, walking down the corridor of our lovely home to see Zayne had a mess of pancake batter all over his “kiss the cook” apron while sighing in annoyance before turning towards me.

“There’s shards of glass on the floor..please, be careful” I nod, grabbing a broom from the closet room and coming back to see Zayne was picking up the broken pieces from the floor. I suddenly stepped in one while trying to hand him the broom which made him look at me with worry, I try not to cry as he can clearly see the tears pricking my eyes.

“I’m fine I swear..” Without a second thought, he quickly lifted me onto the kitchen counter, carefully yet skillfully removing the glass from my foot as Zayne chuckled.

“Having you like this, reminds me of our honeymoon. Remember when-” I stopped Zayne by placing a hand over his mouth, trying to not remember that day where he fucked me into oblivion in our hotel’s kitchen island, right before breakfeast too.

“Why must you always make me remember? It’s like you’re hinting at wanting kitchen sex right now..” A chuckle left his lips as Zayne’s body inched closer, his hands grabbing my waist gently, kissing my neck while whispering sweet words that had me falling into his desire.

“Because, shouldn’t being a husband imply taking care of his wife’s desires as their own? Is it too bad that I want to be greedy with you for a few moments?”His hands began to trail under my nightgown and towards my chest as he began to rub my nipples, making me whine while kissing him.

“Alright, fine. Just seeing you in this apron alone made me feel things, did you do it on purpose?” I asked half jokingly as Zayne kissed my shoulder before taking off my nightgown, leaving me naked on the counter while grinning ear to ear.

“Perhaps, although now I see what you’ve been meaning to hide all this time; you’re trying to rile me up, and it’s working” He then kissed me, taking his sweet time to stroke my clit, agonizingly slow, teasing me as I whined into his mouth. Zayne didn’t take this lightly and spread my legs apart in a second. 

“And to think this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t break the glass measuring vase today” I added, gazing over at Zayne who kneeled towards my pussy, blowing on it gently before sucking on it. I gasped as his tongue did wonders, had I really forgotten of that day, or was I too fucked out of my brains to remember? Possibly the latter. He suddenly grabbed my thighs, massaging them in a way that made my cunt drip with more arousal than before. Of course, I was impatient, so I grabbed Zayne’s hair, pulling him upwards as he got the message.

“Maybe it was fate or clumsiness on my behalf, at least we’re making something out of this.” He spoke, yet I was too focused on how quickly he was to take off his pants, making me wonder why the hell was he wearing work pants so early in the morning. Nonetheless, all my thoughts vanished out the window as soon as I saw his cock. It wasn’t less than average or more, slightly curved and girthy, the type that never wants to let go once he’s had a taste..that..is the man I married, and the man he will always be. The small but noticeable vein on the side made me drool as he stroked himself a few times before prodding at my entrance. 

“Please, don’t make me wait longer, my love” 

“I thought, you weren’t the type to beg for something, it seems there’s a first for everything after all” Pushing my hips to meet his cock, Zayne grabbed them harshly, not enough to leave a bruise but enough to put me in my place as he smiled. The moment he thrusted inside, I threw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure Zayne was giving me at the moment. My hand found Zayne’s shoulder as he continued to pound at my dripping pussy. He let out a sharp groan as he finally reached my g-spot, making me let out a breathy moan while speeding up.

“Is this what you- hah wanted all along? For me to breed you? Make you carry our child? Answer me.” Zayne’s voice dropped to that soft and warm yet firm tone I always loved. Without any doubt, I answered almost eagerly.

“Y-yes..! Oh fuck~!” I sobbed due to the stimulation he gave me, in a hazy rush, Zayne grabbed my thighs, thrusting sharply yet deeply, enough to make me crave more.

“You’d be such a good mom, look at you, all needy and willing for me. I can’t wait to expand our family with you” He said, panting afterwards as he unexpectedly came inside rather quickly than normal. Pulling his cock away from my puffy cunt almost regretting his decision not long before seeing his cum leak down with a faint smile on his face.

“Stay here, I’ll go grab a towel.'' I nod, smiling at his gentleness as he comes back to clean me up. Zayne’s lips met mine as a ‘thank you’ from my behalf for being so kind and sweet as always. We eventually got dressed once again as I looked at my husband through the mirror of our bedroom, walking downstairs as I stared at the kitchen momentarily.

“So..what are we going to do about breakfast?” I asked, causing him to laugh while he grabbed both the house and car keys as we exited the front door.

“I know of a brunch place that just opened up nearby, perhaps we could give it a try today”

Some weeks later, I started feeling sick and began vomiting sometimes during the morning. I had a feeling it was because I was pregnant, however, my husband wanted to run some tests for me in the clinic near the hospital he worked at, “just to be sure” his words not mine. At the end of the day, I returned home waiting for the results to come back as I heard the front door open. Zayne tried little to hide the smile on his face as he handed me the envelope from the clinic

“I don’t need to read the letter at this point with the way you’re smiling at me” I teased, opening it up to show that I was indeed 3 weeks pregnant with his child. Zayne hugged me briefly before kissing my lips ever so softly.

“I promise to be the best father for our child, thank you for allowing me to have the blessing to start a family the day we got married, I love you.” He spoke, tear-eyed as I hugged him back, crying happily onto his chest.

“I love you too..I’ll never regret marrying the man that treats me like a queen and makes sure I have everything I need.” 

[achilles-rage]

Cherry

summary: after putting out a small kitchen fire at a bar, the bar owner offers buck a night of fun. when presented with his girls, he chooses you.

word count: 4.5k (oops)

a/n: this idea came to me in a dream after i read @spidermans-l-o-v-e-r ‘s glory hole fic, and i wrote this in one sitting. i have no idea what came over me but i was feral for this idea. thank you for posting your fic, it was delicious and i loved it<33 i had no intention of posting something today because i’ve already posted 2 days in a row and have more coming the next 2 days, but i felt the need to share this immediately after i finished. enjoy<3

warnings: smut, big titty reader (self indulgent, sue me<3), mentions of abuse (nothing graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only!

Buck has absolutely no idea how he got here; how he got messed up in all of this. He’s standing in the large back room of an old bar in downtown LA, with ten women presented in front of him. His choice.

Earlier in the week, his team responded to a call here. When they finally put out the small fire in the kitchen, the owner had told him to come back later in the week for free drinks and a good time, and who is he to turn down free drinks?

He wasn’t expecting this, though; ten of the owner’s “girls” standing in a line in front of him. “Free for the night,” the owner had said.

His eyes had immediately been drawn to you when you walked in with the rest of the line. You were much different than the rest of the girls. While the rest had their heads up, giving him bright, flirty smiles, your face remained angled towards the floor. When they all stopped and faced him, you kept your head down; he could hardly even see your face.

Even so, he was drawn to your plush figure.

While the rest of the girls were slimmer, showing off lots of skin, you had opted for a pink long sleeve shirt. You were wearing a black miniskirt, and some god awful heels almost identical to the rest of the girls that the owner of the bar had told Buck “really shows them off,” and a pink long sleeve shirt low-cut enough that Buck could see your large tits practically spilling out of your bra.

He almost feels bad standing here. He’s never done anything like this before, but who is he to turn down a warm cunt for the night?

“So, who will it be?” the owner asks, a smirk on his face as he watches Buck taking in all his girls.

Buck begins to walk towards the girls, hands behind his back as his eyes travel the length of the line up. Then, he stops in front of you, but once again, you keep your head down. Surely he wants one of the girls beside you.

You’re surprised when he uses a finger to gently raise your gaze up to his, and your knees almost buckle. It’s the softest anyone’s touched you in months.

“You wanna come with me, sweetheart?” he asks you in a soft voice, and you swallow quickly before nodding your head. He’s gorgeous.

“Yes.”

He grins, then takes your hand and pulls you back towards where he was previously standing beside the owner of the bar. He gives him a smile while you stand almost behind him, eyes trained on his broad shoulders and muscular back.

“You sure you want that one?” the owner says, and you blink slowly, trying to fight back tears threatening to spill as you force your eyes down to the floor again. He’s always treated you like this, but you don’t have any other choice but to stay.

“Positive.” Buck replies smugly, fighting the urge to glare at the man’s condescending tone. He looks over his shoulder at you, and all he sees is a sweet little thing that he’s not sure he’s going to want to let go at the end of the night. How could the other man see anything different?

With that, the owner of the bar waves a hand, and the rest of the girls file out and go back out to the main area of the bar to pick up men, and Buck leads you out of the bar with his hand on the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks once you’re out on the street and walking towards his car parked down the street. You furrow your brows, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, raising a brow before his eyes move down to your feet. You’re almost limping in the heels you’re wearing, but they’re what you have to wear, so you shake your head quickly.

“Oh, I’m fine. Part of the uniform.” you try to joke, but he isn’t having it. It almost pains him to see you in pain. In one swift movement, he pulls you towards him and lifts you into his arms, one arm under your legs and the other behind your back. You squeal, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your throat. He looks strong, sure, but you didn’t think he'd actually be able to lift you. You didn’t think he’d actually do it, either. It’s not like he has to be nice to you.

Once you’re in the car, he drives you to a hotel not too far from the bar. He doesn’t want to scare you by taking you to his house; as much as he wants to see you sprawled out on his bed, so he opts for the nicest hotel close to the bar.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see the hotel he’s chosen. You’re not used to anything like this. You’re used to dingy motels, or the bathroom in the bar, or if you’re lucky, the backseat of a nice car. But never this.

He keeps an arm around your waist as he pays for the room, and he kisses the back of your hand when he grabs it to lead you up to the 3rd floor, keeping your hand firmly in his the whole way up.

When you get to the room and the door is firmly closed behind you, Buck steps further into the room, setting the key card, his wallet, and his keys on the dresser. You follow behind him slowly, then in one swift movement, lift your shirt over your head. You know what you’re here for, as much as his sweet actions make butterflies swarm your tummy.

His eyes widen when he turns back to you, his eyes darting down to steal a quick glance at your large tits practically teasing him in your see through lace bra. He closes the distance between you, grabbing your hands as you let go of your shirt and let it fall to the ground.

“Hey, no, wait. If it’s okay, I wanna talk first. Haven’t really done this before.” he tells you, his admission coming out a little softer than the beginning of his sentence. He feels a little weird about what he’s walked himself into, and he wants to know more about you before splitting you open on his cock.

“Sorry.” you tell him sheepishly. You bite your lip as you watch him shake his head.

“Don’t apologize, baby. Here, let’s get you out of those shoes first, yeah?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he gets down on one knee, kneeling in front of you and placing his hand on the back of your calf to urge you to raise your leg. You hold one of his shoulders as you lift one foot off the grounf, feeling your whole body heat up as you watch him take one shoe off, and then the other.

You let out a sigh when your feet hit the soft carpet, thankful to finally be out of those damn shoes. He smiles when he stands up, noticing that you’ve already relaxed a little more.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. You give him a sheepish smile, shrugging as your eyes move down to your chest.

“He calls me Cherry.” you murmur when you look back up at him, a hint of a frown on your pretty lips. He tilts his head to the side, and he almost laughs at the name, knowing exactly where it came from.

His eyes glance back down at your heavy tits, getting a better look now that he’s standing directly in front of you. He can see the beginning of a cherry tattoo beneath your bra, right in the valley of your breasts, and he sighs. From the way the owner of the bar was treating you earlier, he’s half convinced that he’s made you get that tattoo, and you’re not very happy about the nickname.

“What’s your real name?” he asks softly, eyes darting back up to meet yours. His hand moves to your cheek, caressing it gently, and you chew the inside of your cheek nervously as you hesitate. No names. That was one of the first rules he had given you. But even so, your name is on the tip of your tongue, threatening to fall from your lips.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to tell me, it just doesn’t seem like you like that nickname very much.” he urges you gently. His eyes search yours as you stay quiet for a moment, and then, you tell him. Your voice is barely audible, but he heard you loud and clear, and a smile breaks onto his face.

He repeats it, and you nod, a small smile forming on your face.

With the way he’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel admired, and beautiful. That’s why you’re not surprised when the next words that tumble from your mouth are “kiss me, please.”

He smirks before he brings your lips to his, a hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your head up into the kiss and the other on your plush hip. His thumb gently moves across your hip as he kisses you gently, and while his grip is firm on your jaw, his kiss is soft and tender, which makes your head spin.

As his tongue pushes past your lips and begins to explore your mouth, you kiss him harder, teeth clicking together and breathing becoming heavy as both of your hands move to his cheeks. When one of his hands slides down to your ass and squeezes, it’s like a switch flips, and you’re quick to flip him around and walk him back towards the bed.

You break the kiss as you push him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then you kneel in front of him, hands going to his pants as you keep your eyes on his. Another rule: make sure the customer is pleased. When you’re at a motel and it’s clear he’s in no rush, use your mouth first, and then let him fuck you.

You’re surprised when his hands come out to stop you from undoing his belt, and your eyes are wide as you look up at his face.

“Whoa, wait a minute. What are you doing?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. He’s surprised by your sudden switch up, and while his cock twitches at the thought of your mouth around him, he sees the way your face changed. He notices the way your eyes almost become glossed over and unfocused, almost as if you’re on autopilot, like this is merely a job for you. Of course, he knows it is, but he doesn’t want you to wrap your lips around his cock unless you actually want to.

“Isn’t this what you want?” you ask, a little unsure. You’re feeling a little self conscious now. You’ve never had a man turn something like this down, and your insecurities from earlier about why he would choose you enter your mind again.

“Honestly, all I want right now is to taste you.” he tells you earnestly, and you look down, trying to hide the smile on your face. “But first, I want to ask you a question.”

You look back up at him, nodding slowly. He can see the insecurities inside of you, they’re practically written across your face. It’s the same look you had back at the bar.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asks. He hopes he hasn’t crossed a line, but with the way you don’t look away, he’s sure he hasn’t. Of course the answer doesn’t really matter to him, he’s just curious.

“A few weeks.” you reply with a shrug. He smiles, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“And how many times has someone picked one of the other girls over you?” He can’t fathom someone picking another girl over the soft, sweet thing kneeling in front of him. He had his pick, for Christ sake; all of the girls looked eager to leave with him, and he still picked you.

“A couple.” you admit sheepishly, feeling embarrassed at your admission. It’s happened more than a couple times, but you don’t want to admit that to him. Most of the time, it seems like the men want one of the more experienced girls, or one that’s easier to throw around.

“Can’t imagine why. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” he murmurs, eyes studying your face as a smile erupts on your face. “Can I taste you now? Please?”

You nod, and that’s all it takes for Buck to stand up, help you to your feet and then push you onto the bed, in the same position you just had him in.

He yanks your skirt and panties down in one go as you lift your hips off the bed, and then he puts a large hand over your soft tummy, pushing you to lay back.

He spreads your legs enough for his broad shoulders to fit between, and then he begins placing feather-light kisses to your inner thighs as his arms loop around your legs to hold you in place.

You watch him with a heaving chest as his lips make their way to your dripping core, sitting up on your elbows to ensure you have a view of him between your thick thighs.

As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he gives you a smirk, then dives into your cunt, licking and sucking greedily as he lets out a low groan.

“Taste so sweet, baby. Like heaven.” he moans against your folds, although you can barely hear him. You fall back down onto your back, your hands gripping the sheets as his tongue darts in and out of you slowly, his nose nudging at your clit deliciously with each movement.

He grunts as he notices your hands beside you, and he unhooks one arm from your thigh to grab your wrist, moving your hand to the back of his head. You whimper softly as your fingers weave through his hair, but you don’t pull it; you’re not sure what exactly he wants.

His arms loops back around your thigh again, keeping his face pressed as close to you as possible as he switches between suctioning to your clit and drawing lazy circles around it with his tongue. When he notices that your hand is merely placed on his head, however, he grunts again, unlooking his arm from around you and diving two fingers into your dripping cunt. You moan loudly as he curls his fingers against that spot inside of you, you back almost lifting off the bed as you squirm. Your grip tightens on his hair as he sucks on your clit at the same time, and when he lets out a low moan, you realize that he likes when you pull his hair.

You pull his hair a little harder, and you can feel the pit in your belly growing bigger as you get closer and closer to the edge.

In a few moments, you’re falling apart against him, whimpering loudly as he continues his movements, working you through your orgasm. When he finally pulls away, he straightens up, beaming at you as you raise back up onto your elbows, chest heaving.

“So good for me, sweetheart.” he purrs, and you watch him as he stands up, towering over you. “You think you can take my cock now?”

You nod quickly, and he smirks as his hands move down to his belt. You notice the tent in his pants as he undoes his belt, and then his jeans, and your eyes widen at the size of him as he pulls his pants and boxers down.

Your mouth is watering as he steps out of his pants and then lifts his shirt over his head, and he feels his ego soar as he takes in your eager expression.

He wastes no time crawling on top of you, letting you move up the bed to rest your head on the pillow as he goes. He kneels between your legs as he straightens up, now that you’re where he wants you, and grabs your hands to make you sit up. Once you do, one of his hands moves to the back of your bra and unhooks it easily. He slides the straps down your shoulders and moans when your heavy tits bounce slightly, finally free from your bra.

“If I didn’t want you so bad right now, I’d fuck those pretty tits first.” he purrs. You whimper softly as you bite your lip, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Please.” you whisper, and he lowers himself back onto you, holding himself up with his hands on either side of your head as he begins to grind against you.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” he tells you, and you trail your hands down his chest, desperate to feel him.

“Fuck me. Please.” He smirks, giving you a chaste kiss before he reaches down to grab his cock. He looks down as he lines himself up with your entrance, then slowly pushes past your folds, groaning as he feels your greedy cunt stretch around him.

“God, baby. So tight.” he murmurs into your ear, his face beside yours and his lips grazing your neck. You whimper as he stretches you out, feeling slightly overwhelmed as he keeps bullying himself further into your sopping cunt, inch by inch.

Once he’s buried himself to the hilt, he moves his hips back and then snaps them back against yours, testing. When you throw your head back in pure ecstasy, he repeats his actions, thrusting into you eagerly as he kisses your neck. You keep a hand on the back of his neck as he fucks you, fingers finding the hair on the back of his head and pulling it gently.

He whispers sweet praises as his lips continue down from your neck to your collarbone, and then to your tits. He kisses around one breast, then brings your nipple into his mouth, using one of his hands to roughly squeeze and tug on your other breast.

“Such gorgeous tits, baby. Beautiful girl.” he whispers against your skin, and your back arches off the bed at all the attention he’s giving your body.

His thrusts are strong, and when he uses one of his legs to hike your leg up to his waist, you whimper loudly, your fingers tugging on his hair as he hits the spot that makes you see stars.

“How many times you say they’ve picked another girl?” he asks in a low voice, and in your bliss, you barely even register what he’s asking.

“A lot.” you answer truthfully, too cock drunk to lie.

“God, they’re missing out. Such a sweet little pussy. And all mine, isn’t that right?” he asks, lifting his head and looking down to see that you’re struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Yes.” is all you can get out, but that’s all he wants to hear. He continues with his rough thrusts, and after a couple more, he’s twitching inside of you, balls tightening as he teeters on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, pretty girl? Cum on my cock?” he asks, and you nod as your hands move to his shoulders. You can feel your high quickly approaching, and your nails dig into his shoulders when his fingers start to rub circles over your clit, sloppy and eager.

He feels you clench around him, and he groans, having to close his eyes before he cums too soon.

“Cum for me, baby.” With these words, you’re squeezing your eyes shut as your body goes tense. He tuts, bringing his hand away from your clit and tapping your face lightly, urging you to open your eyes.

When you finally do, he cums hard, hot white release filling you up and threatening to leak out of your pulsing cunt.

You look up at him as he lets go, watching his face contorting in pleasure, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth. He practically collapses on you as you both try to catch your breath, and he presses soft kisses to your neck and chest as you both come down from your high. A few minutes later, he pulls out with a groan, watching your mixed releases drip down your thighs and onto the clean sheets.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, then comes back with a damp cloth, cleaning up what’s dripped out of you and onto the bed. He throws it to the side, then lays beside you, urging you to lay your head on his chest. For a minute, you both forget the situation, too blissed out to do anything but revel in each other’s company.

“What’s your name?” you ask, your mind finally coming back into focus. Usually, you couldn’t care less about the man’s name, but now, you need to know.

“Evan. Buckley. Buck.” he says slowly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You hum, nodding against his chest, but don’t say anything else. You’re perfectly content with laying her with Buck for as long as he’ll let you. You’re afraid that if you disturb the silence, he’ll tell you it’s time to go.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks after a minute of silence, and you nod.

“How did you get into this?” You shrug, thinking for a moment. You’re not sure you should tell him.

Another rule: no personal details shared.

Even with his rules echoing through your mind, you feel like you have to tell him. He’s been so sweet, and you don’t think you can hold it in any longer. You haven’t told anyone else this.

“He’s my boyfriend. The owner. Thought he loved me, and I asked him for money to help pay rent because I lost my job. He gave it to me, but when I couldn’t pay him back quick enough, he told me to pay him back like this.” you tell him softly. His body tenses at your words. What the hell kind of boyfriend would make you do something like this to pay him back? He wants to storm back into that bar and beat him to a bloody pulp, but he knows that’s not exactly a good idea.

“How much?” he asks you softly, trying to keep his voice calm as he rubs your back gently.

“$800.” He scoffs at your words. $800 and he’s making you do this? You’ve been working a couple weeks; that’s what you said, and he can’t believe that you haven’t made him that money back yet.

“You’ve been working for weeks, and he still doesn’t have that money?” you sigh again, shrugging.

“There’s a place near the bar where he makes me live with some of the other girls. He takes the money I make and uses it for that too, so when I do make money, almost all of it goes to that.” You’re sure you’d be better off if you were more outgoing; more willing to go up to men in the bar rather than letting them come to you. You’d get much more money, probably. You’re much too shy to do that though, and you’re still not used to what you do.

He wants more than anything to get you out of this situation. He can tell that you’re less than happy about it, but he doesn’t know what to do. Then, an idea comes to him, and he speaks in a hopeful tone.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, and you smile, raising your head off his chest and looking up at him as you nod.

“Of course.” you reply, and he grins, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

You both fall asleep not long after that, and in the morning, he drives you back to the bar, but not before he gets your number.

Your arrangement goes on for months. You meet him once a week, sometimes twice, and after a month, you let him take you to his apartment. He’s easy to trust; and you know what he does for a living, so you don’t feel nervous at all when he pulls you into his apartment and pins you to the door, kissing down your neck.

He gives you money after each time too, far more than what he’s meant to pay you, but he insists. You try to argue, try to tell him that you can’t charge him anything, not when there’s feelings involved, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

He figures if he can give you enough money to pay back the $800 plus your current housing, you’d be able to leave and be with him, for real, sooner rather than later.

He’s surprised when there’s a knock on his door late one night, and his eyes widen when he sees you, teary eyed and a cut across your cheek.

“He won’t let me leave.” you whisper, and he’s quick to pull you into the safety of his apartment. He pulls you into a hug, shushing you as you cry into his chest. His body is tense as he thinks about your boyfriend, who he has just learned is now your ex as you babble into his chest about what happened, but he’s more focused on you.

He pulls you to the couch, and he listens as you restart your story, sniffling softly here and there and finally calming down now that you know you’re safe.

He listens to you tell him that you confronted him, asking him how much you still owe him, and about how he laughed in your face. He listens as you tell him that your ex boyfriend told you that your debt has been paid, but you’ve become good at what you do, and you bring in too much money for him to let go of you.

He clenches his fists as you tell him that when you tried to argue, he tried to force you into submission; pushing you against a wall and slapping you, resulting in the cut on your cheek.

He vows to protect you, that you’re safe with him now. He brings you up to bed, undressing you gingerly and pulling you against him as you both lay in bed. He kisses the back of your neck as you fall asleep, your back pressed tightly against his chest.

You’re never going back there again, he’ll make sure of it. He’ll find out where your things are, and go pick them up when your ex isn’t there, and you’ll stay with him from now on. You’re already his anyway, pretty much, so you’re his to protect. He’ll help you land on your feet, and when you’re ready, he’ll let you find your own place, but he hopes to anyone that will listen that you’ll stay with him. Forever.

the prequel

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[bunnys-kisses]

omg bunny I love love love your writing. my daddy issues especially love your toto and fernando pieces, so I have maybe a biggish order. may I get fudge + eclairs + scones + cinnamon rolls + peanut butter bars + on the house served by fernando alonso?? much love and support <33

bakery menu!

want to suggest your own order? then suggest your own! i'd love to hear what you order! so thank you to those who have suggested their own orders, these have been a lot of fun to write. so thank you! and don't worry anon about the bigger order, i'm glad i can write good content for ya!!!

fudge ("your father is pissing me off.") + eclairs ("the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut.") + scones ("but what if they see us!") + cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know.") + peanut butter bars(“scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”) + on the house (bubble tea: daddy kink) served by fernando alonso

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/40s), stroll!reader, dirty talking/degrading language, daddy issues (!!!)

you remember the first time you were with fernando alonso. you had returned from school in montreal and were two years older than your brother (who was fernando's teammate). he remembered seeing you in the sea of green, you were in bubble gum pink. with lips that looked softer than velvet and dark eyes that pulled fernando in.

"you know i like a man with big shoulders." you giggled as you placed you pretty pink nails on him. you almost stood at eye level with him. and while most girls your age loved much taller men, you liked fernando's closeness to your height.

didn't make him any less of a passionate lover.

the words, "no one needs to know." was the light that set your intimate relationship with frenando ablaze. you didn't see a problem in fucking a man almost double your age and was a teammate of your brother. you were very much an adult.

"ah, daddy!" you yelped when fernando, snapped the back of your panties against your backside. you pouted at him, "you said you weren't going to be mean! this is mean!"

"well, your father is pissing me off." he replied as he placed both hands on your back side and pushed you over further until your hands were almost touching the ground. he liked bending you to his liking. to shape you into a woman worthy of his cock.

you stuck your tongue out to yourself and then yelped when he rubbed his clothed cock against your behind.

"round like a peach and soft like one." he squeezed your hips,

you whined, “scratch me, bite me, just mark me daddy. show them I’m yours.” as much as fernando would love to do that, he'd love to mark your pretty thighs and neck and send you back to your family.

what would poor lance-y think that his older sister for defiled by his teammate, a much older man.

his hands dug into your further and you whined, you could feel the leap in your chest. a shudder went through you as your nipples got hard.

you were near naked save for your cotton candy blue panties with ice cream cones printed on them. ever so sweet, ever so perfect for him. he felt a heat do its rounds through his body.

"daddy." you whimpered.

he rubbed up against your backside even more. his hands planted firm on your softness. you felt like a beautiful dream to him, a ripe fruit ready for the taking. it didn't help that he had sank his teeth into you many times. he replied, "you should so pretty with my title on your tongue." he bent over you and kissed at your neck while he sank two of his fingers into your mouth. you moaned around them and it was painfully hot.

"daddy." you said in a mess around his fingers while he grinded against you. you couldn't get out from under his grasp, but it excited you. it made your chest leap. he held such power of you, a delicious embodiment of your daddy issues!

older man, a little mean, a little rugged, in one of the top sports of the world with money to spare. you didn't need the money (major trust fund baby), but everything else made you excited to get on fernando's cock.

"can't think of anything else?" he asked before he pulled you back upright and against his chest. he groped your breasts and watched you squirm. he was always so rough with you. it wasn't long before you ended up on the bed.

face down, ass up. your panties stripped from you easily before fernando started to undress himself. you were painfully cute, so submissive under him. he could easily take you apart and put you back together.

you pouted against the covers, even wiggling a little to entice him to move a little faster, "i'm not getting any younger!" you whined and then felt a shift on the bed behind you which made your stomach twist up.

"oh no you're not. but that's hard to say by how you act. you are your daddy's little princess. but, when it's just us. you're my dumb little thing. my stupid little whore who doesn't know left from right." he watched you squirm under him.

you whined, "i'm a good girl!"

he chuckled and rubbed against your further, his strong arms wrapped around you middle, "no, no fuck, the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut." he easily got his cock into you and watched you moan loudly.

"please, fernando." you whined as you gripped onto the covers under you. it felt like the man's cock was in your chest as he started to move against you.

"such a stupid little thing." he said, "you're useless to your father with your little degree. but when me, you shine. you love how i take you. how i am mean to you. you're entire life you've been the princess, but now you're mine." he kept his arms around your middle to keep the best pace with his movements.

your noises were loud, thankful that you were at fernando's home. even if he was murdering you, no one would come to your aid. so you could yell your little heart out and beg your daddy to take such good care of you."

you panted against the covers as the pleasure coursed through your body. there was no way to slice this, you were basically owned by fernando. every cell of your body called for him. your hips shifted at the need for the older man grew in your gut.

"see, this is how i know you're made for me. you let me ruin you for every other man on the planet." he moved faster, his pace was almost brutal and it made you run hot all over.

it was painfully hot to be under him, it made your head flood with heat. you whined, "please, daddy! don't be so mean to me!" you arched your back a little bit and felt the throb of pleasure in your skull.

it was a dull throb that reached down to your core and made you run painfully hot.

"no, my princess.' he said as he kissed up your spine and felt your clench around him. a pretty thing like you was always handled like glass, fernando was trying to toughen you up a little. make you less pouty. you brat.

he continued to rut against you with a feverish pace and you only got louder against the covers. you could feel the heat in your body as he fucked you. there was little mercy with his movements. and even when you protested, you loved it.

you whined against the covers as he fucked you. you held on tightly while he worked your pussy. you could feel your organs moved up from the force of his thrust. you arched your back a little more, feeling tension all over you.

"please, daddy." you whined, "i can't take anymore!"

"mm, that's what i like to hear. maybe next time i'll film you and send it to your darling brother." and you gripped tightly from fernando's words. he knew how to get under your skin. you came around his cock and it made everything feel on high alert in the best way possible.

your noises were loud against the covers and fernando encouraged them by slamming into you. his cock hit in all the right places. and he continued to hit against them as he chased his own climax. it was only right for him to let you finish first, but he'll always get his own climax. he held you tighter in his strong arms.

"perfect." he groaned as he pushed his cock all the way inside of you and finish inside of you. he made a big mess of your pussy, cum stuck to your insides and it left you feeling elated. he slowed his pace and ended up resting on top of you.

you laid under him and smiled a little from the weight against you. you got comfortable as fernando eventually got off of you and beside you with an arm draped over your middle.

you were daddy's favourite. even if you weren't your daddy's favourite. <3