#{ oh hush you it's perfect

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

sorry everyone this is going to be the only thing i talk about for at least a week

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[kurooh]

QUICKIES ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. he thinks the rush and risk of a quickie with you is the best feeling ever.

⟡ feat. timeskip! miya atsumu, bokuto kōtarō, iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurō.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, creampies, oral sex [m&f], cum swallowing, wall sex, public sex & exhibitionism, degradation, fingering, squirting, sex against a window, not proofread !!

⟡ xoxo, juno: my heart goes out to the neglected haikyuu fans on my blog. this is for you <3

— MIYA ATSUMU.

“tsumu,” you pant, head falling back into the lockers behind you with a small thud that’s unheard over the sound of skin against skin.

you’re balancing on one jelly-like leg, back pressed into the lockers, the other leg hanging on his arm, toes curling. “oh, right there, tsumu, please,” a breathy whimper leaves your parted lips, and he angles his hips slightly, snapping his cock into you harder. each thrust punches the air out of your lungs, and atsumu knows he won’t be able to last much longer if you keep clenching like this, your pretty face scrunched with pleasure from him.

“fuck, babe— ughhh, yer so pretty like this..” he buries his face in your neck, the pace of his hips becoming unsteady and erratic as he gets closer and closer to coming undone inside you. in the not so far distance, you hear talking and laughing, but ignore it.

your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deep, and he groans out your name, pressing you harder into the lockers. “mmmh, ‘m gonna cum, where d’ya—”

“inside, want it in me,” you cut him off with a whiny plea, “want it dripping out while i watch the game.”

your hand races to press into the small of his back, in an attempt to make sure he doesn’t pull away or out. with a grumble of your name that makes his chest shake, he cums inside of you, just as a door opens nearby.

“tsumu,” you whisper in a panic when he doesn’t make any move to pull out after a few seconds, effectively plugging you full of his cum, “we have to get dressed for your game, y-your friends—”

“nah,” atsumu huffs, staring at your flexing pussy; his cum drips from you, slipping down your thighs mesmerizingly. he practically has hearts in his eyes looking up and down your body.

“i think we’re a little early, kiyoomi,” hinata’s bright voice is suddenly a few rows of lockers away.

“prep before a game is most important,” sakusa replies sternly, “practice and a shower before always guarantees a win, shōyo.”

atsumu’s already in his shorts, helping you pull on an msby jersey, stamped with his number on the back. his cum drips from your cunt as you quickly move past his teammates with a wave, mumbling a dumb excuse as you race out the door.

“atsumu,” sakusa pulls on his mask almost immediately, his guard up. “surely you noticed your girlfriend wearing the jersey backwards.”

— BOKUTO KŌTARŌ.

“you’re gonna win, kou, i promise,” you interrupt your boyfriend’s enthusiastic and nervous rambling, lips trailing over his inner thighs.

“i-i know, but this game is important!” he emphasizes, swallowing thickly as your fingers hook into the waistband of his shorts and boxers. the clothing slides down his thighs, settling at his knees, and you inch closer to his cock — rock hard, hot to the touch, tip sticky with precum.

bokuto chokes out a hushed groan, tangling his fingers in your hair and cupping the back of your head the second you take him into your mouth. he helps you take his entire length into your mouth, spurring you on with his whines and mumbled curses.

“b-baby, fuck, you’re so perfect, ughhh—”

you choke when you finally make it all the way down to his base, your nose practically touching the coarse hair covering his pelvis. eager hands begin to guide you up and down, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you move. bokuto gasps out a string of hazy apologies when he heard you gag particularly hard, but he doesn’t stop— instead, he cups the back of your head firmly and fucks up into your mouth, the movement of his hips sloppy.

“y-you wan’ me to win, right?” his head drops back, the creaky sounds of the locker room bench growing louder beneath him. with your one of your hands positioned on the wood for support, you feel the bench shaking hard.

you nod, your eyes moving from his abs up to his scrunched face; he’s biting down on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth, his golden eyes half lidded and teary.

it’s almost filthy, the way bokuto rises off the bench, pushing you away from him before cupping the back of your head— he draws his hips back, leaving his tip in your mouth, then slams all the way inside.

tears spring to your eyes at the force, and you only move closer to him to allow him to use your mouth, or his ‘good luck charm’ before games.

“hahhh, that’s right, take it just like that,” bokuto grunts, “god, you’re gonna make me cum.”

heat rushes through your body and pools in your pelvis, wetting your panties at his words; his well muscled chest, gleaming with sweat, rises and falls rapidly as he pants. as his orgasm approaches, his thighs and abs tense as he buries himself deep in your throat, pulling you close to his pelvis.

his cock thickens on your tongue, throbbing as he finally fills up your throat with his cum; still sensitive, he whimpers as you swallow around him. slowly, bokuto pulls out of your mouth, his cock still hard.

he quickly pulls up his shorts, tugs you to your feet, and gives you a tight hug. “i’m gonna win today, and it’s all cause of you!” he mumbles excitedly into your neck.

“sounds good, kou,” you laugh, rubbing his back. “after the game, meet me back in the locker room, ‘kay?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

“mmmh, princess— loosen up a little for me, can barely move,” hajime hisses into your ear, spreading your thighs a little wider with his free hand. he curls his fingers inside you, prodding at your sweet spot and stretching out your tight pussy with their girth.

your nails press crescents into his strong shoulders through his shirt as you hold him for support in humping yourself onto his fingers. “t-thank you, haji, i needed this, ah!” your voice cracks when he starts to scissor his fingers in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

“‘course, baby..” he leans in for a chaste kiss, his olive eyes closing as his lips touch yours.

despite being a hardass with his team, shouting and sometimes even swearing at them, hajime would always be gentle and loving with you all the time. often, you are his outlet when it comes to letting off steam — either through soft or rougher sex.

although he’s disciplined and strong willed, he always melts when you cling to him, eyes shining as you take his hand in yours, guiding him inside your shorts to feel your damp panties. “need you, haji,” was all you’d said earlier, and then he had you on his lap with his big fingers buried in your cunt, the two of you tucked away beneath the bleachers of the gym, right before practice starts. hajime always has time for you.

“o-oh, hajime!” you cry, pushing your face into his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his fitted shirt, “i’m c-cumming, ‘m—”

your hips jerk backwards, his fingers slipping out of you, and your face burns as you squirt all over his lap, his hands, and yourself. a sharp gasp leaves you when you realize you’ve soaked him and his clothes, right before practice.

“h-hajime, i’m so sorry, i—”

he cuts you off by grabbing your chin firmly, tugging you to look at him. “don’t be, babygirl,” he lets you go and slowly starts to slide you off his lap, gesturing for you to stand up.

“i just wanted to make you cum, it’s okay, i still have some time to change,” he murmurs, getting on his knees and wasting the changing time; his tongue slides over your wet inner thighs, and he starts to lick up your cum.

your hands tangle in his dark hair, and you pull him closer to your dripping pussy, eyes rolling back when he presses a wet kiss to your clit.

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

“wow, couldn’t even wait till my lunch break, huh? w-what—shit, so tight—a slut.”

kuroo’s words are shaky, grunted out from above you as he fucks you, bent over with your palms pressed against the window. the glass is smeared with the combination of perspiration and your scented lotion that makes him go insane, the one that has him grabbing you all over.

“harder, tetsu..” you whisper, toes curling in your socks; your short skirt is flipped up, panties wet and pulled to the side. he’s supposed to be leaving his office for a meeting in the next 5 minutes, but when you showed up all pretty and flashed him just a little, he couldn’t resist.

the door wasn’t even closed, and here he was pushing his cock inside you and sliding his large hands under your shirt to grab at your tits.

“you like me fuckin’ you with the door open, right in front of the window, hm? fucking you just like a whore, baby.”

your puffy cunt clenches hard around his cock, and your head falls forward with a needy mewl, drinking in the sight of kuroo’s balls smacking into your clit, his cock pounding in and out of you.

“oh?” he slaps your ass, drawing a whimper from your lips that has him gritting his teeth and tossing his head back, “you like being called a whore, don’t you? you like me using your—ughhh, fuck!—s-slutty pussy like this, yeah?”

“yes, tetsu, god yes,” you keen, hands sliding down the glass as your eyes roll back and your back arches for him, “don’t stop don’t stop, please—”

you hope kuroo will be able to cum before his assistant comes by to remind him of the meeting that’s only a few minutes away — you hear her pushing away from her desk to come to his office, and you can’t find it in yourself to care or be any quieter.

[rileyslibrary]

You burst into the office and slam the door behind you. Ghost jumps from his seat and looks up from the paperwork he’s been filling out. His eyes widen as you sprint towards him.

“What the f-”

“Just play along,” you interject, dragging a chair and plopping down. You grab two sheets of paper from the pile next to him and snatch the first pen within reach.

He keeps staring at you dumbfounded before managing to utter something.

“Can you at least-”

“Nope,” you cut him off while focusing on the papers and nibbling on the pen. “No, can’t do. You need to trust me on this one.”

“Define what ‘this one’ is.” He demands.

“Shhhh,” you hush him, waving your hand dismissively and glancing over your shoulder at the door. “He’s coming.”

“Who’s com-”

The door swings open, and footsteps approach. They settle beside you, and a hand slams on the desk. Ghost looks at the hand, then upward.

“Captain,” he says. “What brings you in-”

“For the love of everything you hold dear, Simon, you better not be involved in any of this,” Price warns. He slams his hand on the desk again and looks at you. “Why were you running away from me?” He asks.

You stare at him with furrowed eyebrows before removing the pen from your mouth.

“I wasn’t running away from you, sir,” you reply, pointing the pen at Ghost. “I was late for my meeting with the lieutenant.”

Price turns towards Ghost, seeking for an appropriate answer. The lieutenant sits up straight on his chair, clasps his hands together and motions with his head towards you.

“Very punctual, this one.” He says.

“Cut the crap, Simon,” Price orders and turns to you. “What were you doing inside Bravo Unit’s barracks last night?”

“Bravo Unit has barracks?” You ask Ghost. He shoots you a side-eye and raises one eyebrow.

“Stop playing dump and answer the question,” Price warns and points at Ghost. “And don’t look at him—he’s not covering for you this time.”

“How about you start from the beginning, boss,” Ghost interjects. “What happened?”

“Someone broke into Bravo Unit’s barracks last night and stole every inch of toilet paper they had,” Price says, looking at you, then turning to Ghost. “And not just toilet paper, mind you! Kitchen rolls and tissues are gone as well.”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Ghost murmurs, shaking his head. “Such an inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience, Simon?” Price whispers, leaning on the desk. “The entirety of Bravo Unit had to wipe their ass with parchment paper this morning.”

Ghost brings his hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. He lowers his head and takes deep, laboured breaths. Price is already fuming, so you decide to intervene.

“I was never inside Bravo Unit’s barracks, sir,” You state. “I just happened to walk through it once.”

“Oh, I see, I see—you walked through it once,” Price repeats, nodding. He removes something from his pocket and slams it on the desk.

“The instigator left this behind,” he states, looking back and forth between the two of you.

You and Ghost look at the garment on the desk—it’s a skull balaclava that once belonged to the lieutenant. He gave it to you last Winter since your ears and nose tend to get cold during patrol.

“Now,” Price states, “would you care to brief me on who this belongs to?”

“Hm,” you murmur, setting the pen and papers on the desk. You pick up the mask and start examining it. You look at Ghost, who stares at the mask with his eyeballs threatening to pop out of his face. He shoots you a deathly stare, and you redirect your attention to Price.

“That looks like it must be the lieutenant’s,” you reply, lifting the balaclava next to Ghost’s masked face. “With the skull and all—it’s a perfect match, actually.”

You both turn to Ghost, whose expression has transformed from utter disbelief to an inexplicable calmness.

“Indeed, that looks exactly like the one I lost,” Ghost confirms, taking the mask from you.

“Is it now?” Price asks in a high-pitched voice, tilting his head to the side. “Do me a favour and smell it for me, Riley.”

Ghost does exactly as he’s told. He brings the mask close to his nose, sniffs it, and nods. “Yup,” he confirms. “Smells exactly like me, too.”

Price sighs, takes a bottle from the pocket of his cargo pants and slams it on the desk. “So you want me to believe you use ‘Magnolia Blossom with Moroccan oil’ as a shampoo?” he asks.

“I’ve got dry hair.” Ghost shrugs.

“You should try coconut oil instead,” you suggest to Ghost, “it’s cheaper.”

Price kicks the chair next to you, and you both turn to look at him. He presses his lips together, and a red flush creeps on his neck, threatening to reach his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him.

“Why did you go through peoples’ stuff without their permission, sir?”

“Oh, I wasn’t going through anyone’s stuff,” Price explains. “You just were dumb enough to ditch the balaclava right behind the barracks. The detection dog picked up on the smell and led us to your stuff—it was a perfect match, just like you said.”

“You had sniffer dogs involved in this?” Ghost asks.

“I had to.” Price replies. “Pair the parchment paper with a day full of training, and Bravo Unit developed the worst rash they had since wearing diapers.”

A chuckle escapes Ghost, and he tries to silence it with his hand. He takes quick gasps of air, and you try to retain your laughter, too.

“Please tell me you’re not laughing!” Price shouts.

“No, boss,” Ghost says and wipes his tears, “It’s just so-”

“-sad,” you say and wipe your eyes as well. “It’s so sad.”

Price looks at you, then at the lieutenant. Now defeated, he sighs and throws his head back, shutting his eyes.

“I’m done with both of you.” He says, lifting his arms and dropping them to his sides. “I expect all toilet papers to be returned today. And as for you, you are responsible for cleaning Bravo’s toilets for the entire month.”

“For the whole month?!” You shout and wince at the idea.

“Be glad I didn’t make you wipe their asses as well.” He shouts as he walks to the door and slams it behind him.

Ghost recovers from the laugh and directs his attention to you. He tries to be serious but his teary eyes betray him.

“That was a hazardous operation you did back there,” he says.

“I didn’t do anything.” You reply, still vouching for your innocence. “But whoever did it taught Bravo Unit not to mess with our thermostats again.”

Ghost shakes his head. “I just happened to walk through the barracks once,” he says, repeating your earlier statement. “What were you thinking? Who walks through barracks?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Ghosts would be my guess.”

[screampied]

i’ve never sent a request i hope this makes sense 😭

reader doesnt feel very pretty so suguru fucks reader in front of a mirror + lots of praise

i love love love your work🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

❤︎ ໋𓈒 geto showing you how pretty you are.

warnings. fem! reader, mirror sēx, reverse cowgirl, praise, body worship, overstim, talking you through it, mdni. tysm <3

“. . . ah ah, something’s wrong, isn’t it?” geto hums softly, two soft hands attached to your waist. his touch was always so gentle—you lean back, feeling him bury inside of you before you pause your pace. he brings a kiss towards the crevice of your neck before speaking in a hushed tone. “my baby’s upset.”

“i’m not,” you inhale a sharp breath, and he doesn’t exactly buy it. although, he doesn’t interrupt your saddened words—he allows for you to finish, giving you nothing but his uninvited attention. it’s a long pause before you sigh. “suguru. can i—can i ask you something? be honest.”

he nips another kiss near your neck, moving a hand towards the inner corners of your physique. “why, of course. i’m listening, sweetheart.”

the words that slowly drag out your throat felt so hard to get out. a lump builds up against your esophagus before you swallow, muttering a soft, “do you . . do you think i’m pretty?”

a smile goes against his lips. “honestly, i think you’re more than pretty,” and you let off a moan once you feel his touch skim down your spine. “every chance i stare at your body, my breath gets stolen,” and then he turns your face to stare right into the mirror. “i want you to see what i see, a gorgeous girl on my lap. stunning, is she not?”

albeit, the moment your eyes reach the mirror, you see nothing but the exact opposite of your reflection.

“. . no,” you mumble, leaning against his bare chest. you hear the faint breaths of geto as he’s still stuffing you full with his shaft. your skin against his felt warm, sweltering hot. for whatever reason, your throat started to become dry like the sahara as you resume to speak. “are you just saying that, sugu?”

“oh, i’d never lie to my pretty girl,” and your heart swoons a bit. his words, so tender—easily warming its way into your heart. as you stare into the mirror with him, he leans in to press gentle kisses all against your skin. the hairs beneath your neck stand up and you inhale another sharp breath. “i love you, and if i have to smother you with millions of compliments for you to see the gorgeous girl that i see, then so be it.”

“s—suguru,” you choke out, leaning into his touch. you were so sensitive, and he feels you start to gradually move again. you were so trapped up into your intrusive thoughts that you forgot how you were just about to release. he was right, you knew that. but something within you was telling you that it simply wasn’t the case. “promise?”

he sneaks a final kiss against the shell of your ear. “my love,” he whispers, a hand softly wrapping around your neck. it’s gentle, the tip of his middle finger strums down your throat before he feels the vibrations collide against his single digit. “you are perfect. even if you think otherwise, you’re perfect for me, i promise,” he murmurs, and you could almost cry. words that you always needed to hear, your heart eases a bit before your knees buckle. “i wish i could make you see how pretty you are for me,” and his free arm slides down between your thighs, feeling against your slick entrance. you whimper, slumping way back against his chest. “and i thought it was your eyes that i get lost in,” he simpers once you meet his gaze in the mirror. “the most precious body i’ve laid my eyes upon, just look at you for a second.”

your hips start to make haste again, and he’s quite thick inside you—you gnaw on your lip, staring at geto from the mirror and he smiles.

“. . . from your curves to your skin to every inch of your body,” he rants, a hand slowly making its way to touch and feel against every part of your skin. such soft pads of his fingertips roam everywhere and you can feel yourself staring to drift into a euphoric state. it was approaching, your inescapable orgasm that left such a warm pool to stir into your abdomen. “mwah,” he kisses near the outline of your jaw. “if i could fall in love with you for the first time again, i would.”

“don’t s-say things like that,” you tremble, feeling him gradually split the inside of your cunt open with his cockhead. it felt so good, like it always does—you were quite tense, your shoulders were at least. but with each kiss that geto gives your body it eases you, sending you into a sweet lewd trance. “s-suguru.”

he chuckles. “but baby,” and he’s teasing now, hearing that familiar kittenish tone residing underneath his low voice. “it’s true. i love you, not just for your body—i love your voice, your scent, your touch, the way you play with my hair,” and he pauses, a mere rough groan escaping his lips. he was right up against your ear before he sighs softly. “i love the way you look every time i praise you, especially. the way your pupils dilate and your lips curve into a subtle smile, it’s so adorable.”

“ . . . ”

“aw, too much?” he snickers.

you lie back, rotating your hips a bit as you grind against him in reverse—slow but steady, your hands grip against his thighs before you whine. so close, your release was at the tip of your tongue. you could almost taste it, the taste of your sweetly bitter climax steadily approaching itself.

“i- i love you too,” you mumble with quivering lips, breathy pants shortly following your dialogue. “t-thank you, sugu.”

“don’t thank me,” he whispers, bringing both hands towards your waist for about the nth time now. he runs his fingers up before its at your hips, guiding your movements before he grunts himself. “stare at yourself with me. i want you to see what a pretty girl looks like when she’s about to cum.”

you almost moan from his words alone, you felt so hot — not just from his touch, but the way he spoke to you too. if it was anything suguru geto was good at, it was praising you to your heart’s content.

the more you rode him, staring at your reflection through the mirror with him propped up right behind you—you started to see what he was seeing. perhaps his words were getting through to you, a soft satisfied noise departs from your lips and he pulls you closer. “easy, that’s it. stare at me in the mirror the whole time,” and he kisses your neck again—leaving a trail of his invisible smooches. “i got you, i got you,” and your whines grow a bit more louder. he’s hitting you deep, your head slightly spins before the grip on his thigh tightens. “just make a mess on me ‘n i’ll clean it all up. i’ll do anything for you, sweetheart. even if it’s a little messy, heh.”

a tiny smile tugs against your lips at his comment before you feel the sudden ache underneath your thighs. him talking you through it all in that sly soothing voice, you felt as if you were on cloud nine—the tenderness of geto’s words had your heart feening for more, for more of his love and affection.

“she’s so breathtaking,” he gently cups your chin, staring you right in the eyes—you glance at geto, beads of sweat racing down both sides of his forehead. he was pretty too, his hair was pinned up but a few strands poked out and merely shielded his eyes. every time he looked at you, it was like he was falling more and more in love. a thumb of his plays against your lip before he hums, “my woman. my gorgeous woman.”

the moment you reach your climax, it comes at full speed—you moan loudly, feeling your pussy transmit into a full crazed spasm. your thighs quaver and tremor, and you briefly bite down on your tongue. “. . . s-suguruu,” you whimper out, such sweet candied moans ripping out your throat. he intertwined his fingers with yours his as you rode it out. your hips, sliding back and forth against him still before eventually it comes to a halt. your eyelids became heavy as you lie back, a few strands of geto’s hair tickling against your skin. “f-fuckkk.”

“shhh. breathe for me, baby,” he soft mutters, watching as your twitching body slowly calms itself down after a while. everything felt hot. with your mouth was open, spit-glossed lips parted, you listen. breath after breath gets slower, focusing on your patterns before he kisses the top of your forehead. “good girl, the best girl.”

after a while— it goes silent, you sit there— still siting on his lap with his cock all inside of you before you exhale lowly. “how do we feel now? better?”

you puff out a soft sigh. “a- a little.”

“hey, that’s progress, sweetheart,” he gently coos against your ear. geto smiles once he notices you’re still holding onto his hand. your fingers lock against his before he gives you a little head pat. “sleepy?”

“no.”

it’s a long silence and he tilts his head with an eyebrow raise through the mirror and you pout.

“okay, just a little sleepy,” and you turn around, making him pull out before facing him directly. geto gazes into your eyes before a sheepish grin forms on his face once you kiss the corner of his mouth. “i know i already said it but i love you, sugu.”

“i love you,” he replies, leaning to kiss the top of your forehead for the umpteenth time. “so much more. now let’s get the pretty girl some rest. i’ll even sing you a song to help those eyes close..”

[laccakes]

“katsuki, stop moving.” you mumbled, face close to his as your eyes trained on the wing of eyeliner you were trying too hard to perfect. bakugou groaned, a frown capturing his lips as he gazed up at you. 

from his position, he could see every little detail on your beautiful face. from the litters of various hues in your eyes to every eyelash and freckle you had. words could never describe how much he adored every little thing about you. you unknowingly had him wrapped around your little finger.

“told ya’ it didn’t needa be perfect.” his large hands squeezed at the plush of your hips as you straddled his lap, “gonna sweat it off anyway.” you rolled your eyes, laughing softly, "oh, hush." you stopped for a second, leaning back to get a better view of your work. you had pushed his bangs back with a cute hello kitty headband, leaving his huge forehead and eyebrow piercing on full display.

you grabbed his chin, angling his face to your liking, "you love this." you cooed, smiling as you continued doing his eyeliner. he really did cherish these small moments with you. he also really hoped you couldn't hear his heartbeat over the soft music playing in his room.

a/n: you guys remember when kat wearing eyeliner for his hero costume was a thing??

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Jealousy

Three times Jason gets jealous during dates and one time you do (Pre-established relationship) ~1.6k words

You're perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Jason's life has never been better since he's asked you to be his partner. (Okay, hush, you asked him, but he was getting there, he swears, he had this twelve step plan and everything. Tim was going to jump off a ledge while throwing rose petals. Rose petals!)

He can't find a single problem with how your relationship is going. Well, expect, how everyone else seems to want your attention you too.

The little Café you wanted to try is nice, really. The guy behind the counter that's been staring at you since you both got here? Not so nice. It's annoying, how the guys gaze seems to linger on your legs, your smile, the way you brush your hair back. It's a struggle to focus on your words– but not a struggle to watch the way your lips move when you talk.

The worker takes a step out from behind the counter.

Oh hell no.

Jason's on his feet and pulling out the chair next to you in an instant, between one word your pretty voice is saying and the next, he's sitting by your side with an arm draped around your shoulder.

He loses his train of thought when you smile, pleased, and raise an eyebrow.

"What's this for, Jason?"

"Wanted to hear you better." He says, or he thinks he says that. He's too busy watching the creep slink back behind the counter, satisfaction growing in his chest.

You laugh. (He thinks angels might descend from the sky when you do.) And go back to telling your story. It's much easier to listen this time. That's what he tells himself, at least until your thigh presses against his.

Gotham Zoo is actually really nice for, you know, Gotham. Bruce poured money into it before, but ever since Damian found out about it, he's practically ensured the place will run ethically and comfortably for the next 100 years. Which Jason thought was cool, but it's even cooler that he gets to watch his partner coo over the new petting zoo.

"Aw, Jason, look at the lambs! They're so soft. I wanna take one home." You sound giddy, eyes bright and smile wide. He can't quite pull his focus away from you to see which creature you're referring to.

"They're pretty cute." He responds instead. Not cuter than you, though.

"Could you imagine one for the apartment? They'd sleep in bed with us. It would be like cuddling a cloud." You say idly, fingers stoking the top of the animals head.

That makes him pause. How'd he cuddle you if there's some barn animal in the middle of the bed? There's no way he could get close enough to you if some pet you found cute was cuddled between you. He clears his throat. "Well, ah, I don't know how the landlord feels about lambs but you can always cuddle me? I'm– I could be soft?" Wow, okay. Not what he wanted to say. He cringes a little.

But you stand up, smiling brighter and gaze focused on him. That settles the feeling in the pit of his stomach. You curl your fingers with his and take his hand, pulling it to your face to kiss his knuckles. "You're my favorite thing to cuddle, you know."

Oh. "Huh. I mean, good." He stumbles out. No, his ears are definitely not feeling warm. And no, his heart isn't beating faster as he follows you towards the next enclosure. "I could wear wool, though? If you wanted?"

That makes you laugh. Eyes trailing to him with such fondness he nearly sinks to his knees. Until he sees the playfulness etched in your face. "I saw you petting those rabbits early. I could wear bunny ears? If you wanted?"

He chokes on air. You might be trying to kill him. His whole face feels as heated as his ears. "Wow. I– if you wanted?"

You giggle, pulling away to observe the next lucky animal that you see.

"Hey. Wait–" He says your name, voice a little pitched. "Did you want–?" You only wink at him. That shuts him. And if he spends the rest of the date a little distracted, well, you seem proud that you managed to make him so flustered.

Your coworker has been talking to you for thirteen minutes and fourty-seven seconds. Jason knows this because he's been watching the clock since he got here. It happens more often than not, him walking you home from work. He shows up fifteen minutes early because he knows you'll slip out given the chance. Something about not taking up too much of his time. Don't you know you're the only one he wants to spend his time with?

Jason crosses his arms, eyes narrowing at your coworker. Three inches. That's the amount of space your coworker has moved closer to you since he's gotten here. Not respectable at all. Doesn't he know you're with Jason? Maybe he should have stopped into that jewelry store he was eyeing earlier. And called Tim to put in an order for rose petals.

Your coworker shifts another inch towards you. And that's it. Your shift has thirty-five seconds left and that's exactly the amount of time it takes for him to be by your side. His arm slips around your waist comfortably, like it belongs there, because it does. He kisses your cheek and lets his gaze settle on your coworker. And if his face is a little more threatening than usual, he definitely isn't trying to intimidate your coworker. (Yes, he is.)

"Ready to go home, sweetheart?" He drawls, body relaxed like he isn't torn between showing your coworker exactly who you're dating and pushing down the jumble of emotion in his throat. "I was thinking take out for dinner?"

You relax into his side. Oh. You relaxed into his side and you're smiling at him. It evens out the pounding in his heart he didn't even realize was happening. The tension threatening to take over his shoulders disappears like it never existed.

"Yeah, Jason, I'm ready. I missed you. Just let me clock out." You pull away– 'no' he starts to think– and then you take his hand, pulling him along with you.

"I missed you too." He answers, and you don't quite see the smug grin he sends over his shoulder to your coworker.

Jason's perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Willing to try new things. A total package. That's something you know about your boyfriend. So when he agreed to go dancing with you at Gothams newest club, you were excited. A whole night spent enjoying time with your boyfriend. And you both get to dress up a little. You feel hot, and he definitely looks hot. You didn't think that'd be an issue. But, it is. Because you can see your boyfriend getting held up by two of the prettiest girls you've ever seen.

He's holding two drinks, one for himself and one he went to get for you. It soothes the tightness in your throat that he does not look thrilled to be talking to them. The softness he has when he's with you gone, replaced with poorly masked annoyance.

Any comfort you were feeling from the look on his face disappears when one of the girls puts her hand on his arm, giggling like he's said the funniest thing in the world. Absolutely not. You're walking over to them before Jason even has time to shrug her hand from his arm.

"Hey, honey." You say, voice sweet and sugary as you take one of the drinks from his hand, hooking your arm through his and tucking yourself against him. "Everything okay?"

It makes your heart flutter everytime, the way his entire face seems to change when he looks at you. "Hey, baby. Yeah. Everything's okay. Didn't mean to take so long. Were you worried?" He asks, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair.

The girls seem to deflate at how his complete attention is on you, how he instinctively shifts until you're pressed flushed against his side, two pieces of a whole. You have to force back the pride that threatens to glint in your eyes. "Not worried. I just was getting bored without you."

Neither of you really look over at the girls when they murmur something about catching up with their friends, but Jason manages a polite nod. Once they're gone, his grin widens, eyes teasing. "You were jealous. You called me honey."

You gasp in mock offense, yes, honey isn't the first term of endearment you jump to, but it's a perfectly valid word for him. "Jealous? Jealous that my tall, dark, sweet, and handsome boyfriend was getting hit on?"

He laughs, you think you might have swooned in a different time. "C'mon, pretty. Give me this. I saw you watching."

You can't help but smile at him and wonder, vaugley, if he knows you'd give him anything he asked of you. "Yeah, yeah. I was a little jealous. But, don't think I don't notice when you get jealous. Now, come dance with me. I like this song."

Now it's his turn to gasp, faux denial on his face. "I have never, not once in my life, been jealous."

You roll your eyes, playful and light as you pull him along to the dance floor. "Alright, lover boy. Because you're definitely not the reason my coworker wouldn't talk to me for a week."

He looks pleased at that. "He didn't?"

You raise yourself on your toes, kissing his cheek and leaving a smudge of lipstick. Neither of you move to wipe it off. "Mm. No. He didn't."

"Nice." He mumbles, unhooking your arms so he can hold your waist as you reach the dance floor. "I do get jealous too, though, sometimes."

Laughing, you find the beat of the music together and your world centers on him, just how his centers on you. "I know."

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞

gif by @iamasaddie

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: it's the first day under your stepdad's care, and boredom hasn't crept in at all. you suggest having a movie night, and to your surprise, he agrees immediately.

warnings: MINORS DNI. age gap [18/52], pervy thoughts, joel is condescending, sweet nicknames (sweetheart, babydoll), joel calls himself 'daddy', overprotective joel (in a bad way), innocence kink, DUB-CON, NON-CON, sloppy thigh fucking, somnophilia, we're starting out soft

wc: 2.9k

notes: DON'T LOOK AT ME.

series masterlist | next chapter

Waving at your mom from atop the porch, you couldn't help but feel the giddiness bubbling up inside. At last, the house would be peaceful without her snide remarks about what you're, how you're speaking, how you're sitting, and so on. The comfort of relaxing in your own sanctuary was something you've eagerly anticipated since she announced her week-long departure. Although it meant seven days of serenity, your stepdad, Joel, would still be around, which was fine by you. Compared to your mom, Joel was the cool, calm, and collected one, making him the favored parent in your eyes.

As her car disappeared around the corner, you dashed back inside and inadvertently slammed the door with too much force. You winced and clenched your jaw, hastily covering your mouth with your hands as Joel stomped around the corner, his deep frown evident, and large hands planted on his hips in a wide stance.

"What have I told you about slamming doors in this house?" he asks, eyebrows raised, head tilted, waiting for your response. He gestures impatiently when you hesitate. His tone is stern, and his expression suggests he is not in the mood for games.

"Sorry, Joel," you say meekly, your lips curving into a small pout, your heart pounding in your chest while his stern expression remains unchanged. Tears begin to fall before you can hold them back. With a soft sniffle, you turn away, embarrassed, to wipe them off.

You hear him let out a deep sigh from as you try to hold in your little cries. You hear his slow, heavy footsteps as he approaches. Then, you feel his big hands rubbing up and down your arms before turning you around to pull you into his chest. He hushes you softly, tutting quietly when your cries turn into whimpers.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, bending down to kiss your head softly. "No need for tears. I ain't mad at you, silly girl." With a curled forefinger, he gently lifts your chin. He dabs at your tears and plants another kiss on your forehead, the sensation of his scruff against your skin causing you to close your eyes.

"You're not?" you ask shyly, sniffling quietly as you begin to calm down. "But you seemed angry at me, Joel. It was very scary." Fidgeting with the buttons on his flannel shirt, you remain too nervous to meet his gaze, especially given the close proximity.

Joel's lips form into a grin as he realizes the storm of emotions that you're feeling. Now that the two of you will be alone for one whole week, he finally has enough time on his hands to break you down and put you back together repeatedly. He's finally going to be able to mold you into his perfect little dream girl.

"What can Daddy do to help you feel better?" Hm? Tell me," he says softly, urging you to gaze into his eyes, which you did. Hearing what he called himself made you laugh, which made his grin grow wider. "What's so funny, huh?" Poking you in your side, he laughs when you squirm.

"Mom said I shouldn't call you that," you say, releasing a soft sigh and returning to your button fidgeting. "She says that I'm old enough to use your name, and she thinks it's weird." Your voice carries a touch of sadness that Joel picks up on. He clenches his jaw at the thought of your mother's judgment over something so inconsequential to her.

Joel lifts your head gently, placing his finger under your chin. He gazes into your shining eyes, your eyelashes stuck together from the heavy tears that are beginning to dry. His other hand grips your hip, causing you to make a small noise. Being this close to him, looking up like this, felt so wrong. It was an uncomfortable closeness, especially from an outsider's perspective.

"Alright," Joel says with a playful sigh, bringing a smile to your face. "Fortunately, we have the entire house to ourselves for a whole week. I might not be as young as I used to be, but I'll do my best to keep up with whatever you want to do. Does that sound good?"

You hum loudly, swaying your hips from side to side in Joel's embrace while resting your chin on his head and jutting your backside out to gaze up at him more comfortably. He swallows hard, stifling a strained groan. You remain unaware, preoccupied with thoughts about how to kick off your week. Suddenly, as if an invisible light bulb shined brightly atop your head, your expression lights up.

"Movie night! With snacks! Oh, please, Daddy? Pleeeaaase," you whine, stretching out the last word as you pout and make puppy-like noises. Joel rolls his eyes and gives your backside a gentle pat, a familiar gesture from your private moments together. Now, he can express his affection openly, without hiding it from your mother in the same house.

"Get your butt upstairs and get ready," he motions with his head, signaling you to hurry. With a delighted squeal, you leap up, press a kiss on his stubbled cheek, and scamper up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut. A muffled apology comes through the door, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

The market was unexpectedly bustling. Each cash register featured a lengthy queue of customers eager to check out. Amidst the commotion, you found yourself drawing nearer to Joel, clutching the back of his shirt as you attempted to match his brisk pace.

"Make sure to stay close to me, sweetheart. We don't want you to get lost, okay?" Joel had repeatedly told you during the drive and now.

You nearly regret wearing such a pretty outfit on a hectic day. Dressed in a simple summer dress with delicate straps, sheer thigh-highs, and petite wedges, you find yourself wishing you had planned more wisely. But Joel's constant compliments, calling you pretty and ain't you a peach made it worth it.

As minutes passed, you inadvertently drifted away from Joel. You had both wandered through the candy aisle when the array of lollipops, gummy bears, and jellybeans captured your gaze. Standing there, like a child in a candy store, you were practically quivering with excitement at the thought of your stepdad purchasing anything you desired. While reaching for a small bag of gummy worms, you were jostled by someone, prompting a gasp to escape your lips as the bag slipped from your grasp.

A hand reaches down, picks it up, and extends towards you, presenting the bag. You tentatively accept it from the man, turning to face him and feeling a wave of discomfort at his unkempt appearance. He gives you a once-over as he licks his bottom lip. The sight of his thinning hair and prominent belly does little to ease your unease.

"I apologize for that, sweetheart," the term makes you recoil as it feels off when he utters it. When Joel says it, it elicits a sensation of floating and tingling. "I wasn't paying attention where I was going, but you certainly are a pretty sight. Are you here by yourself?" His unsettling stare compels you to want to shield your skin and escape to a distant place.

You sweep the aisle with your eyes, searching desperately for Joel's familiar broad form. Your heart and thoughts are calling out to him, wishing he could sense your distress telepathically and come to your aid against this nasty man. Gripping the candy bag closer to your chest, you watch as he edges nearer, feigning interest in a label just over your shoulder.

"My, uh, my stepdad... he... he, uh..." You couldn't bring yourself to form words as the man's fingers adjusted the fallen strap of your dress. Whimpering quietly, you pressed yourself harder into the shelf, closing your eyes tightly and silently hoping that this man would just go away.

Before the man could approach further, a large shadow loomed over your closed eyelids. As you opened your eyes, you were confronted with Joel's broad back, his masculine scent overwhelming your senses. His hands were balled into fists. Peering around him, you caught sight of the man's eyes, wide with fear, his expression betraying his predatory intentions. As your gazes locked, Joel once again shielded you with his frame.

"I suggest you walk away right now before you find yourself picking up your teeth from the ground," Joel warns in a low, menacing tone that you've never heard before—not even with your mother or step-uncle. It's terrifying to hear him like this, yet there's comfort in knowing he can protect you should things turn violent.

The man dashes out of the aisle, abandoning his basket of groceries without hesitation. Joel remains in front of you briefly, ensuring the man doesn't come back to check if you're alone again. As he turns to face you, the anger in his eyes and the scowl on his face grow more pronounced. He presses you against the shelf, invading your space in an intimidating manner.

"What the hell did I just tell you before we came here?!" he exclaims, almost shouting, his brows furrowed and his voice booming. "I ain't the one you should be playin' games with, little girl." He points a finger at your face, leaning in until his breath skims across your skin. "Repeat it," he commands in a deep, rough voice.

"I… I…" Overwhelmed by the situation, you burst into tears and cling to Joel, burying your face in his chest once more, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I didn't mean to get distracted! And then that man, he wouldn't leave me alone!" Joel struggles to understand you through your sobs, but he hushes you gently, enveloping you in his strong arms and softly patting your back.

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture of exasperation at your naivety, so oblivious and innocent to the world around you. As your cries subside to hiccups and faint squeaks, he gently eases you away from his chest, indifferent to the tear stains on his shirt.

"Listen to me, and listen well," he says, his tone stern yet his large palms gently cupping your cheeks. "Men like that are the ones that wanna take you away from me. They wanna keep you locked away and keep you for their own. You're not smart enough to be left alone, sweetheart, because you get put into these situations and you don't know how to act. That's why when Daddy tells you to do something, you do it. Is that understood? Nod your head." He notices your eyes glazing over as you listen to him speak. Mimicking a nod, you snap out of your trance and return the gesture.

"I don't want anyone to take me away from you, Daddy," you whisper, the thought of being separated from Joel filling you with terror, and tears swiftly gather at the edge of your eyes once more. "It's scary."

Joel tuts at you, lowering his head to kiss your tear-stained cheeks. The salty taste of your tears on his tongue had a warmth spreading throughout his lower half. "I know, babydoll. I know," he murmurs, giving your butt a series of gentle pats as he kisses your forehead. "Daddy's here now. Get your snacks so we can leave."

That evening, you change into your sheep-patterned sleep shorts, a light white camisole, and cozy thigh-high socks. As you spin in front of the mirror, Joel's voice faintly calls you downstairs to start the movie. Laughing with excitement at the prospect of a movie night free from your mother's watchful eye, you clutch your beloved stuffed plushie and head out of your room.

Joel lounges on the couch, clad in sweatpants and a casual t-shirt. A bowl of buttered popcorn and assorted snacks are spread out on the coffee table. Beside him, a beer for himself and, thoughtfully, your preferred strawberry kiwi juice. The sound of your footsteps hurrying down the stairs reaches him. He contemplates reprimanding you, yet as you appear, the words dissipate unspoken.

The cool air made your nipples turn into peaks that poke through your thin top. The thigh-highs squeeze your thighs and makes them look extra plushy and grabbable. He takes a deep swallow and sips his beer, his gaze fixed on your appearance. You extend your hands, silently inquiring about your look. Joel scans you from head to toe once more, giving a nod of approval as his jaw tightens.

"You look very pretty, baby doll," he tells you in a strained voice, motioning for you to come closer as he lays out across the couch, his back against it. "Come cuddle so we can start the movie."

Approaching, he could detect the uncertainty in your body language and facial expressions. "Are… Are you sure we should cuddle? Will my mom be upset?" The naive inquiry prompted a rough chuckle from Joel. Your embarrassment was palpable as he laughed openly at your question.

"Oh, honey," he mocks sympathy and stares at you from his sprawled position on the couch. "You seem to keep forgetting in that little head of yours that I'm in charge of this house, and whatever I say, goes. Now, when I tell you to come over here, I expect you to do it without questioning me."

The commanding tone of his voice brooked no argument. To enjoy the week with Joel, you had to push your doubts and hesitations away, instead of fretting over your mother's opinion on the closeness between you two. Joel seemed to understand better; he knew what was best for you, and as he put it, his word was final.

As you approached where he lay, you could just make out him whispering, "That's my girl." The praise made you blush, cherishing the moments when you're told you're doing well and being a good girl for it. Joel consistently offered such verbal reassurance, never hesitating, even in your mother's presence. She, however, often showed her irritation with his way of praising you.

For god's sake, Joel. She's a woman, not a little girl anymore.

You eagerly lay beside him, your back pressed against his chest, as Joel draped a blanket over both of you and started the movie, "The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent." It was a moment you had anticipated ever since you mentioned to Joel how much the character Javi resembled him. Trembling with excitement, you snuggled closer to Joel, your smile buried in the stuffed animal you held, while his arm drew you in even tighter. A pleasant hum vibrated from his chest against your back.

Only thirty minutes into the movie, Joel heard a soft snore beside him. With furrowed brows, he leaned over and saw your closed eyes and parted lips, your arms clutching your stuffed animal to your chest as you hummed sleepily. Shaking his head, he lay back and pulled you closer, smiling to himself as you unconsciously snuggled into him. When Joel makes sure that you're fully asleep, he inches hips back and lowers the blanket off your body. Your sleep shorts had ridden up your thighs, further exposing your lower cheeks and giving him a glimpse of your panties.

"Fuck," he breathes out, feeling his cock beginning to harden and thicken in his sweatpants. With one hand holding onto your hip to keep you steady, Joel begins to grind his cock against your ass, slotting his covered thickness between your cheeks and breathing heavily into the back of your neck. "Goddamn."

You never once stir as you're so deep in your slumber, unaware of the world around you and what Joel is doing to your unconscious body. He can practically feel his tip leaking in his sweats, the gray color darkening as precum stains the fabric. Erratically, but careful enough to not wake you, he lowers his sweatpants and guides his thick cock between your thighs, the tightness of them closed creating a delicious friction that had his mouth dropping. Joel hikes your shorts higher up your waist, forcing the fabric tighter against the shape of your virgin pussy.

He fucks his hips forward and back, sliding his cock deeper between your thighs and further against your covered cunt. Sweat dots at his hairline and the back of his neck as the warmth in his gut coils tighter and tighter. He hears the distinct slick of his precum staining your inner thighs as he abuses them without your knowledge.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunts low in his throat, his hand tightening on your hip to position your body in a better way for him to fuck your thighs. "Daddy is such a dirty man, ain't he?" He fucks your thighs faster and faster, his thighs slapping against the back of your own gently. Surprisingly, the movement and noise doesn't wake you.

As he continues muttering to himself, Joel doesn't realize just how close he was. His balls were heavy with cum, waiting to be exploded onto your unexpected skin. The tip of his cock was throbbing with need and dribbling with more precum. His abdomen tightens when you shift and arch your back in your sleep, briefly tightening your thighs and rubbing them together.

The sudden friction had Joel choking on air before he hunches over your body and watches his cum shoot out of his engorged tip and onto the couch. He's biting down on the pillow as his thighs shake. He just won't stop cumming.

"Holy shit," he grunts quietly, falling back against the couch and swiping a hand down his sweaty face. He breathes heavily, wincing and tucking himself back into his sweatpants. He glances over at the tv, and Javi comes onto screen. He scoffs and shakes his head to himself. He doesn't see the resemblance.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @blueberrypancakesworld @heyhihello-4771 @codenamekitten @chamepagnessimo @idioticcatss @takochansugoi @zjasminelouvre3

!! let me know if you wanna be added to the next chapter !!

[dollfacefantasy]

billy butcher x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fingering i am so down bad i had to get this out of my system

Everywhere he went, you followed Billy around like a puppy. Always watching him with adoring eyes, lingering by his side to see what he was up to. At first he pinned it on you looking for reassurance as the newbie in the group, but after a few weeks, it was obvious that your attachment ran deeper. You obviously had quite the crush. 

You spoke to him with more nerves in your voice. Followed his orders down to the letter and damn near saluted him when you received them. He could scowl at you or scold you, and you might scurry away with your tail between your legs for the hour. But give it some time, and you'd be back.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Sure it was... flattering, and technically, you were still doing your job well, performing on missions as you should. But at the same time, it was distracting having a sweet young thing like you prancing around him at all times, seeking his approval with each breath you took. He was supposed to be focusing on revenge, justice, saving the world and all that. But fuck, one look at you and that's all a distant memory.

At the end of the day, he's just a man. He needs to have a taste. One night when the two of you are out scouting, he gets you alone in the van. It only takes a tender look and a few words in a lilted tone of his voice to have you cumming on his fingers and your panties in the pocket of his coat. A few days later, you blow him in a public bathroom while you wait for a target to show up. After that, he eats you out at your desk in the office.

Tonight he gets you back to his place. He's sat on the sagging couch, thighs spread wide enough to accommodate you between them. He holds you there. You're bent in half with your legs up in the air. One of his arms is hooked around them for support while his other is curved around your bottom to get at your dripping pussy.

His thick fingers pump in and out. He works at a moderate pace for now, not enough to break you just yet, but the perfect rhythm to make you squirm your ass against his solid bulge. You have your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with droopy, glazed eyes. All he can do is smirk in return.

"Feel good? You like gettin' that little cunt stuffed full?" he teases.

His voice comes out hushed despite the fact that it's just the two of you. The words rumble up from his chest against your back. You just nod in response. Any words that would have been suitable have turned to mush in the pit of your belly.

The wordless gesture doesn't stop him at all. It only spurs him forward. His entire hand is coated in slick by now, your arousal seeps out with each pump and slips over the expanse of his palm. Wet, erotic noises emanate from your center while soft whimpers pour from your lips. He squeezes your legs up tighter, smooshing your breasts down.

"I know you do, pup. Such a needy thing," he says, "Following me around like I got you collared and leashed."

You moan at the image of that filling your mind. If he wanted you to, you would. You'd kneel at his feet, bound and pretty, displaying your devotion to him around your neck. You'd rest your empty little head on his knee and zone out while he pet you and called you his good girl.

"Oh, she likes that," he chuckles as your walls clamp around him.

You nod eagerly before arching your back and yelping as his thumb starts swiping across your puffy clit.

"Atta girl. Panting like a bitch in heat for me," he murmurs and nuzzles your temple.

You whine like one too, trembling in his arms as the coils of pleasure tighten in your tummy. Your eyes flutter, lashes dusting your cheeks as you look up at him. He watches on with his own lust blazing in his eyes.

He fucks his fingers into your tight heat faster, curling them a bit to stroke that sweet spot inside you. Some drool slips from between your lips at the onslaught of stimulation. His fingers were just so fucking thick. Only two of 'em were in right now. He hadn't let you take his cock yet, but you could only imagine how snug of a fit it would be if this was any indicator.

"There you go, love. You're getting there," he praises as he continues sliding his fingers in and out while massaging your bundle of nerves.

"F-fuck," you whimper, "Gonna cum soon."

"I can tell," he rasps, "Go head and do it. Wanna see you come apart for me."

Soft noises of ecstasy bubble from your lips. You were nothing if not dedicated to pleasing this man, so you give him what he wants. It only takes a few more flicks and thrusts of his digits to get you to crash into bliss. 

Your head tilts back as you cum. Your legs kick lightly in the air, but he keeps you in place. You squirm against his broad, warm chest. Your cunt locks tightens around his fingers, wishing so fucking badly that it was his cock.

He kisses you as you start to come down. His lips land on yours and capture every delicious sound you make. Your breathing calms and returns to a normal pace along with your heart rate slowing down. Your legs bend over his forearm before he lets them down gently and allows you to just sink back into his body.

You're soaked between your legs, inner thighs slippery with release. As he withdraws his fingers, your pussy is already aching for another part of him to fill it up again. You turn and slide your grabby hands beneath his shirt, but he simply boosts you up to sit fully on his lap.

"You're insatiable, sweetheart," he teases before pecking your lips.

"Cause you keep teasing me," you mumble.

"Yeah? Think so? I think I'm just taking my time with you."

"Takin' too long," you huff in response between kisses.

"Maybe you're just greedy and spoiled," he says.

You're about to reply with another bratty comment, but he flips you over and spreads you out on the couch. You hear the zipper on his pants slide down, and you're almost certain it's the most thrilling noise you've heard in your life. One look up at his eyes tells you you're not gonna be complaining in a couple more minutes.

[pierregazly]

so in love ꨄ charles leclerc

charles leclerc x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, p in v - no protection, charles is in love, charles doesn't shut up when he's horny [1008 words]

request: 🌶 Could you write prompt 17 with Charles Leclerc, please [17. “What’s wrong?  Why’d you stop?”  “Nothing’s wrong.  I just wanted to take a second to admire how beautiful you are.”]

The smell of sex wafted throughout the room. The fan running above your bodies did little to erase the sheen of sweat that had begun glittering across yours and Charles’ bodies. The sounds of skin against skin, grunts into the open air, it was intoxicating, it was all you could focus on.

Charles was insatiable. Had been since his win. All he could think about, all he wanted, was to feel himself pressed against you, inside of you. By all means, you were his favourite drug. He had practically begged you to let him bend you over in his driver’s room after the race. Then barely even gave you any time to recuperate once you were in his car, on the way back to the hotel. 

His hands had only left you to drive, and even then, one was still running up your leg, dangerously close to where your own body was yearning for him, practically soaking through your clothes because of the teasing movements of his hands.

His body craved yours more than it craved anything. But his mind, his heart? They just simply craved you. The way you smiled up at him from below the podium, the way you were always the first person on his brain when he woke up, and the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep. He craved everything about you, everything about your relationship. You were all he wanted.

It’s what always made things so much more intimate with him. The way he loved you transcended into his every action. It didn’t matter if the night was supposed to be about him, Charles always found a way to turn it around to make it about you.

Just like tonight.

His nose was pressed into the junction between your neck and shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses to the bare skin. Soft moans fell from your lips when you felt his teeth scratch against the sensitive skin of your neck, an inevitable mark forming from his actions.

Charles’ hips rutted against yours gently, his hardened member stretching your wet heat deliciously. You could feel him mumbling into your neck, his warm breath coasting across your skin, prompting goosebumps to jump to the surface as a shiver wracked throughout your body.

“So fuckin’ perfect, f’me. So beautiful, merde. Takin’ me so well. God, so incredible. Wish we could stay like this forever,” he groaned. 

He was practically delirious as he mumbled words into your neck, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pressed his hips deeper into yours, hitting spots inside of you that had you crying out for him.

Pulling himself up and onto his elbows, his eyes locking on yours. Looking up at him questioningly as his lower body halted its ministrations. 

“What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?”

Shaking his head at you, he used one arm to hold himself up as he ran a thumb down the side of your cheek, across your lips, down your neck. You couldn’t contain the goosebumps that continued to litter your skin from his actions.

“Nothing’s wrong.  I just wanted to take a second to admire how beautiful you are.”

Your cheeks instantly heated, the adoration so evident in his eyes as he smiled softly down at you.

“Oh, Cha… hush,” you giggled, slapping at his shoulder. He leaned down to press his lips to yours, his hand now delicately holding your cheek.

Pulling away from you, he flopped over onto his back, tugging on your hand as he directed for you to climb on top of him. He loved watching you ride him, loved watching as you threw your head back in pleasure, or when you would grasp his thighs, your unrelenting grip always causing his hips to stutter in pleasure.

To put it simply, he loved just being able to look at you. Loved being able to make eye contact with you, being able to connect your fingers. Loved being able to see how much you loved him, in the most intimate form.

You did as he directed, climbing on top of him and sinking down on his cock. The stretch caused your eyes to close in pleasure, tipping your head back as a small sigh left your lips. Charles’ own sounds of pleasure mixed with yours, his hands instantly gripping onto your waist as he pulled you down harder.

“Fuckin’ love watching you ride me, merde,” he swore.

His thumb pressed against the hood of your clit, rubbing against the sensitive nub as you whimpered at his actions. The mixture of him rubbing your clit alongside the feeling of him stretching you out pushed you to move your hips faster, craving the feeling that was slowly beginning in the pit of your stomach. 

You could feel the pleasure growing, Charles’ fingers never leaving your clit as he guided your hips with his unoccupied hand. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way your hips moved, the way your head was tipped back; revealing the darkened marks he had littered against your neck earlier in the night. A small smirk grew on his lips when he realized you were getting close, his own orgasm creeping up on him.

The sounds you were making increased, your hips stuttering against his.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty? Gonna soak my cock? Wanna cum with you, baby. Wanna fill up this pretty pussy,” he practically cooed his words, bucking his hips upwards so his cock hit the spot inside of you that had you crying out for him.

Your upper body snapped forward as your hands hit his shoulder. Charles’ own hips stuttered as he began to empty himself inside of you, continuing to rub his fingers against your clit, guiding you through your own moment of pleasure.

Slapping his hand away, you allowed your body to drop lightly onto his, attempting to regain your breath. Charles wrapped his now-free hands around your back, pressing his lips against your cheek in a soft kiss.

“Je t’aime, mon cœur,” he whispered.

“Je t’aime aussi, mon amour.”

i don't know what to say!!! but what i want to say isn't appropriate!!! hope y'all enjoy this

[kurooh]

hey! could you please write something where the mha men catch you masturbating?

CAUGHT ! — BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. he’s offended that you didn’t call him to make you cum.

⟡ feat. aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugo katsuki, kirishima eijirou, takami keigo.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, masturbation.

— MIDORIYA IZUKU.

“baby, could i use your vibrator on you?” izuku pads towards the bed and sits in front of you, eyes meeting yours shyly. his freckled cheeks are pink and only turning a darker red as you take a moment to think.

“sure, ‘zuku.” you smile softly, spreading your legs and leaning back as he picks up your sticky wand. “you know how to use it?”

izuku shakes his head, “no, but i want to learn how.. i was watching you a little earlier.”

“oh..” your cunt twitches at the thought of him looking in on you masturbating — moaning his name, writhing on the bed in bliss. and knowing izuku, he was rock hard the whole time and palming himself through his pants.

“i’m sorry, baby, i couldn’t help it. you’re just so beautiful, and—”

“no problem, izu.”

he clears his throat and presses the vibrator to your puffy clit, and just the light pressure has you whining his name. when izuku switches it on, he accidentally turns it up to the highest level, causing your back to bow right off the bed as a sharp gasp escapes your lips.

without thinking much about the intensity of the vibrator, he presses it against your clit harder while nudging your closing thighs apart with his free hand.

“oh, izu, t-that’s too high, you need to turn it down!” your body twists on the bed, hips jerking, so he plants a scarred hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you as steady as possible. “it’s too much, fuck, i’m gonna—!”

“shh, i know baby,” izuku hushes your gasping moans and shaking voice easily, “i’m listening..”

— BAKUGO KATSUKI.

“what the hell?” as katsuki pulls the shower curtain open to reveal your shaking form, hunched and pressing the shower head between your thighs, he scoffs.

your back crashes against the shower wall behind you and dazedly, you look towards your affronted boyfriend who’s now stripping his clothes off.

“i thought we agreed to shower together tonight! here you are, without me and jerking off no less.”

“shut up and join me, katsuki,” not that he needed any convincing, but the blissed out expression on your face has him moving much faster. plus, you haven’t stopped using the shower head — you’re still moaning, his name falling from your lips in delicious whimpers.

“bend over, babygirl,” katsuki grunts, stepping into the shower beside you. “and give me that damn thing.”

he practically snatches it out of your loose grip, manhandles you forward a little more after you bend over. aiming the spray at the ground, he spreads your ass cheeks with one hand and presses himself into your dripping hole.

“fuck, fuck katsuki..” your chest heaves as you mewl, high pitched and needy. katsuki finally bottoms out with a husky groan, before he twists his hand and directs the shower head towards your quivering pussy.

his free hand comes to rest on your cheek, thumb slipping into your mouth for comfort.

“katsu..” you cry, tears racing down your cheeks as your voice muffles. “so, so good!”

katsuki trembles against you before quickly developing a tempo and snapping his hips into your ass. all he can do is choke back sounds of pleasure as your walls squeeze him so hard his eyes roll back.

he musters the strength to lean over to press a wet kiss to the shell of your ear, chest pressed to your back. “god, i wish you could see just how fuckin’ perfect you look right now. such a mess for me— hah, shit.”

— KIRISHIMA EIJIROU.

“let me eat your pussy.”

before you can even turn around, eijirou is already bouncing on the bed and advancing towards you on his belly. surprised, you pull your sticky hands away from your pussy and loosely close your legs.

“eiji, what?”

“you heard me, baby.”

“wh— you didn’t even knock, and this is kind of embarrassing that you walked in on me like this!” your face burns as you stare at the redhead awkwardly, his eagerness making your thighs twitch.

“i’m sorry,” eijirou apologizes, hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself closer to you. “you’ll forget about it if i eat you out, yeah?”

when you nod shyly, he pulls your legs open and plants his hands on your asscheeks, dragging you into his face. before you can even register what’s about to happen next, eijirou’s lapping up your slick, tongue dragging through your folds and against your clit.

your eyes roll back, damp fingers twisting into his spiky hair and pulling hard, just how he likes it. he groans, face buried in your cunt, and the vibrations draw a few whines from your throat.

“eiji, l-little slower please, ‘m kinda sensitive..”

honestly, eijirou doesn’t really care if you’re sensitive from all your jerking off. it’s evident in the way he licks harder, slurping up more of your taste and locking you down with his arms so you can’t twist away, even if you’re overstimulated.

a particularly rough drag of eijirou’s silky tongue has you gasping out his name and panting quickly.

“mmm, mmmh— eiji, ‘m gonna cum!” soft red hair tickles your inner thighs as he nods, unbothered. a few more licks to your clit has you coming completely undone, thighs squeezing his head harshly when he continues, pushing his tongue into your twitching hole.

“i-i can’t, it’s too much!” you wail, tears building in your eyes as pleasure and pain flash through you together. after a moment, eijirou finally lets up, not even caring to wipe the wetness off his face.

he doesn’t hide the enthusiasm and smiles, sharp teeth glinting in the light.

“let me eat your pussy again?”

— TAKAMI KEIGO.

“aww, dove. could’ve let me know you were this needy,” the slightest rustle of feathers behind you as you’re pulled back into strong arms has your body tensing, dildo falling from your hand and onto the towel covered bed.

“i-i didn’t want to be a bother.. you were on patrol, kei,” your voice is barely above a whisper, face burning with some kind of embarrassment that he’s caught you in such a vulnerable situation.

gentle fingers brush beneath your chin as keigo tilts your head up, pressing his lips to yours for a chaste kiss. as it starts to deepen, tongues pushing between lips, a hand slides down the slope of your stomach and over the coarse hair at your pelvis.

“keigo,” you moan before he’s even reached your pussy and he chuckles, pulling away with a string of saliva briefly connecting his lips to yours.

“haven’t even touched you yet,” keigo comments wryly, corners of his eyes crinkling as you lean in for another kiss, legs spreading wider. you catch a glimpse of his vermillion feathers ruffling behind him before your eyes shut and you fall into pleasure.

thick fingers press inside you, pushing in and bottoming out rather quickly, thanks to your previous orgasms. as you’re reaching for your neglected clit, keigo swats your hand out of the way and replaces it with his own, thumb rubbing tight circles on it almost immediately.

“always so fuckin’ tight,” he hisses, scissoring his fingers in and out of you at a devastating pace. your hips thrash against the bed, pulling back from overstimulation and roughness yet also pushing towards him for more. your back is flush against keigo’s chest, asscheeks pressing into his crotch.

“god— fuck,” keigo’s chest heaves as he shifts closer to you, hard on grinding into your ass. “shit, now you’ve got me worked up, dove.. i’m bending you over after you cum, alright?”

[satcrvz]

LOVEFOOL!

— in which your boyfriend sneaks into your room and decides it’s a good idea to watch a horror movie.

SATORU GOJO X F!READER, readers love language is lowk physical touch, not proofread (are we shocked anymore)

thud.

you averted your gaze to the direction the sound game from, and behold, it was gojo. you began to question him. what could he possibly want at eleven at night?

"satoru? what are you doing here?!" you ask.

"you don't want me here?" he cries dramatically. you swore you’d never closed the space between the two of you that fast. your palm rose to cover his mouth.

you quickly reminded him, "quiet down! you know you're not supposed to be here." he gives a nod in affirmation to your words and you let go. you took a step back and started up the conversation again.

"so.." you began, "why are you here?"

he scoffs and makes his way to your bed. "well, you weren’t answering my texts." he says while falling back onto your bed.

you smile at him before making your way to situate yourself next to him. "you could’ve callled me."

he hums at your words, "yeah. guess i just wanted to see you." he props himself up on his elbows to look at you sitting next to him.

the sound of heavy rain followed by lightning and thunder catches your attention.

"damnit." you say as you get up to close the window.

he makes his way to you in an attempt to persuade you to stay, but his plan backfires. for the second time tonight, satoru gojo has fallen in your room.

this earned a laugh from you, which was probably louder than a 6'3" guy hitting your hardwood.

"baby, love of my life, what part of 'you aren't supposed to be here' didn’t click?"

"that one was an accident! i tripped over my slide! come help me up, please?"

you sighed and extended your hand towards him.

"you can stay, i'm not going to send you back into the storm."

"yes!" he says while pulling his elbow down with his hand in a fist. you laugh and roll your eyeballs at him.

the two of you were finally settled on your bed. the scene consisted of his back resting on the headboard with one of your plushies on his lap, while you scrolled through movies with him refusing any you suggested.

"babe! what do you want to watch then!? you’ve rejected like, the last 5 movies and said maybe to one of them."

he moves the plush in his lap to face you and puts on a high pitched voice, "turn on a horror film!"

"no way."

"pleaseee! it'll be good, i promise."

"and what do i get in return?" you ask.

"super hot boyfriend protecting you from the big bad monsters? i dunno."

you hand the remote to him and let him do his own thing. "you’re so cocky."

after scrolling through the horror selection, he finally lands on the conjuring 2. yeah you definitely weren’t going to sleep after this.

"move it buddy." he’s confused on what you're doing, but quickly catches on after he sees you removing the animal from his left hand and replacing it with your own.

the movie went by and around the 30 minute mark, you’d become startled by the man on the screen. you jumped but your face remained the same. you wouldn’t have said anything about it, but your boyfriend started lightly snickering.

"did you seriously jump?" he looks over to you.

"oh, shut up!" you raise your hand that was intertwined with his and gently slap the back of his hand.

toward the end of the movie, you started to drift asleep but managed to stay awake. gojo saw this as the perfect opportunity to mess with you. he put his hands on both sides of your stomach grabbed you as he said "boo!" in a hushed tone.

your eyes widened as you jumped, then quickly returned to normal to give him an unamused look.

"i hate you." you say.

"if you hated me, you would've sent me back home." he says.

"i hate that you're right." you say while draping yourself over him. " 'm gonna sleep now, you should too."

"i will once the movie finishes."

you hum in acknowledgement and began going to sleep. it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, given that you were already tired.

"i love you." he says before shutting off the tv.

he knew he wasn't supposed to be there and the risk of your parents seeing him there, but he didn’t care. if it meant he got to spend time with you, then he’d take that risk.

[merrinla]

Portrait spamming

Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD

Tav / Dark Urge

normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.

combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!

stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.

Astarion

normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?

combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.

stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.

Karlach

normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!

combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.

stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.

Gale

normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.

stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.

Wyll

normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...

combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.

stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.

Lae'zel

normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.

combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.

stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.

Shadowheart

all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.

Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(

normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...

сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?

stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.

Jaheira

normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.

combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.

stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.

Minsc

normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?

сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.

stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.

Minthara

all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.

[ellecdc]

hii!! i rlly like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request ? remus (or wolfstar ) x reader where its like posthogwarts and she went to a diff wizarding school and the wizard thing was hush hush cuz she was a muggle, but then one day she like accidentally uses magic and they were like “ omg wait what” and like yeah. anyways pls feel free to ignore this its a very odd request LMAO. thank you so so much for taking the time to read this !!! (im sorry if this sounds weird i dk how to talk to ppl) ok bye 🫶

this was a very cute prompt! thank you so much for your request and your patience in my writing it!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who they believe to be a muggle [1.8k words]

CW: fear of werewolf prejudice, fear of muggle born prejudice, I also included a line in French and you can find the translation at the bottom of the work

Sirius knew that they were, perhaps, being a little bit selfish by keeping such a big secret from you.

Statute of Secrecy be damned, they were well beyond the point in your relationship where they could have (and likely should have) told you that he and Remus were wizards (oh, and, while we’re at it, Remus turns into a beast once a month so there’s that, too). 

And while their friends all suspected it was Remus who was hesitant to tell you the truth on account of his lycanthropy, it had actually been Sirius who kept procrastinating the long overdue conversation.

But Sirius had to admit that he was very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he wasn’t willing to muck it up by scaring you off. How many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

Sirius had already met Remus which felt like nothing short of destiny, and then they met you, and that felt prophetic. And who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy? 

“You cannot chicken out tonight.” Remus muttered as Sirius rapped on your door, earning him an indignant scoff from his boyfriend. 

“I’ve never once chickened out in my entire life, thank you very much. That’s why I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

Remus merely snorted. “Sure, that’s why this is our seventh attempt at breaking the news, yeah?”

Sirius refused to look at Remus before banging (slightly louder) on your door once more before you finally opened up.

Gods you were so bloody beautiful; smiling like you couldn’t physically be any happier that your two boys were here, eyes excited and bright and so full of love and fuck sakes he couldn’t do it.

“Hey dove.” Remus greeted for the both of them, seeing as Sirius’ brain was short circuiting on account of your beauty and loveliness, pressing a kiss to your hairline and all but shoving Sirius past the threshold of your door. “It smells amazing, what are you making?”

Your smile seemed to grow impossibly brighter at the praise. “A vegetable bake! It’s sort of Mediterranean, and I’m making pasta to go with it.” You explained excitedly, and Sirius honestly felt like he was going to start overflowing with the amount of fondness he had for you.

“You going to say hello to our girl, Siri? Or are you just going to keep staring at her?” Remus taunted as he walked further into your flat to place the flowers he was carrying for you in a vase - the routine of bringing you bouquets every time they visited so practised that he knew where to find your vases. 

“Of course, gorgeous. Sorry for being rude.” He murmured as he pulled you into his chest and breathed you in. “You’ve got to stop answering the door looking so bloody beautiful; I completely forget myself.”

You giggled into his chest and then leaned on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips that he - the selfish bastard - didn’t find nearly enough before he pulled you into a second deeper, lingering kiss. 

“It’s good to see you, Sirius.” 

Sirius sighed happily - because really, it was even better to see you - as he shuffled the two of you towards the kitchen Remus was now fussing in. 

“Beautiful!” You cheered as Remus positioned the bouquet in the middle of your kitchen island; and Sirius could see the mischief in Remus’ eyes even if you couldn’t.

“Just like you, dove.”

And, quite possibly one of their favourite sights, they watched you turn bashful as you opted to fuss with the arrangement instead of looking at either of them. 

“Listen, sweetheart, we were wondering if perhaps before we eat, we could chat with you about something?” Remus decided to rip the bandaid, and Sirius wanted to hex him for the way your body tensed and you looked at him with what appeared to be mild horror.

“Oh- uhm, okay, yeah, sure that’s… that’s fine.” You stuttered as you moved to the kitchen table to take a seat, both boys following obediently. 

Sirius watched as Remus moved last week's bouquet - which Sirius had secretly cast a stasis charm over so that they would last longer - out of the centre of the table and closer to Sirius so that they could both have a better view of you. 

“Is…everything okay?” You asked cautiously as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Sirius wanted to throw up. 

“Of course, dovey.” Remus assured you, though it was Sirius’ thigh he gave a comforting squeeze under the table. “We just know that we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we’ve grown to care about you quite a lot- you know that, right?”

Sirius watched as the divot between your brows only deepened as you nodded hesitantly. “So much, gorgeous; we care about you so much.” He insisted when it didn’t look like you truly believed them. 

“But we just, well, we haven’t been completely honest with you, is all. And now that we’re at this point in our relationship, we…we feel like we owe it to you to be honest.” Remus continued, clearly beginning to feel just as out of his depth as Sirius was. 

Your face fell completely blank, though Sirius could tell you were still tugging nervously at your shirt sleeve.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t bad, we- I rather think I’m in love with you, and-”

But as Sirius went to reach his hand over to rub at your arm in a way he hoped to be comforting, he ended up knocking over the vase stationed in front of him.

It didn’t break, thank Merlin, but it did topple over before Sirius could catch it and the water poured over the table.

Remus went to stand quickly to avoid being soaked, but no sooner had he pushed his chair away from the table was the vase floating towards you and the water completely vanished. 

Not looking at the boys in front of you, you righted the vase and repositioned the florals to your liking before looking up at Remus who was now standing and staring at you owlishly, and Sirius who was gaping at you from his seat.

“Did you just-” Sirius started, voice no more than a whisper, but was quickly cut off by the sound of a timer in the kitchen.

You waved your hand in that direction mindlessly before sinking back despondently in your chair and staring down at your lap, the timer silent.

“Y/N.” Remus rasped. “Did- was that…are you a witch?” 

You appeared to flinch as if you’d just realised what you’d done before you looked up; all colour seemingly draining from your face.

“What? I-” You started with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? There’s no such thing as witches…”

But Sirius knew what he saw, the first could have been an accident - a trick of the mind - but the second act of magic was all the confirmation he needed.

Silently, Remus summoned the vase of flowers towards him before charming them to dance to imaginary music, plucking one from its stem and turning it gold before reaching across the table to put it behind your ear as you gaped at him. 

“You’re…a wizard?” You whispered in disbelief. 

At that, Sirius stood and spun, turning into Padfoot and panting excitedly at your feet as his tail whacked against the table leg with every wag.

A wet laugh escaped you before either boy realised you were wiping your eyes.

“Oh my gods?” 

“Awe, dovey.” Remus cooed as he moved over to Sirius’ chair so he could take your hands in his. “Don’t cry.”

“Is this what you guys were going to tell me?” You asked cautiously, hopefully. 

Padfoot melted back into Sirius, but he stayed kneeling at your feet as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your calf. “Yes, baby; this was it.” He assured you. “I’m sorry we scared you.”

“So, that boarding school you went to in France?” Remus asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Beauxbatons.” You confirmed with a nod of your head. “And your boarding school in Scotland?”

“Hogwarts.” The two boys chorused, and you all let out a chuckle.

“It’s almost embarrassing that didn’t give it away right there.” You laughed breathlessly. 

“Since we’re, uh, being honest about stuff…” Remus continued, trailing off awkwardly as he shared a grimace with Sirius. “I’m also, well, I’m also a werewolf.” 

“Oh.” You breathed quietly. 

Sirius held his breath as he watched you consider this before you nodded your head decisively. 

“I’m muggleborn.” 

Sirius and Remus shared a quick look before Remus let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is that- …what?”

“Baby, are you trading that information like we might think that’s a negative?” Sirius teased you lightly. 

“I suppose it depends on who you ask…” You whispered, and both boys softened. 

“Not us, dove.” Remus offered. “Good.” You smiled at him. “Then me too.”

“Is that really how you feel about it? About me?” Remus asked quietly. 

“No, it’s not how I feel about you.” You denied. “J'ai l'impression de tomber très amoureux de toi.” You admitted shyly, and Sirius couldn’t be held responsible for the mortifying cooing sound that resonated from the back of his throat. 

He grabbed your face roughly and started peppering you with kisses: “how”, a kiss, “did we”, a kiss, “manage to find”, another kiss, “the most brilliant and beautiful witch”, kiss kiss kiss, “in the whole world?” 

You were giggling and trying - not very hard, mind you - to pull away from Sirius’ ministrations when you stilled and let out a gasp.

“What?” Both boys paused.

“Supper!” You nearly shrieked as you went flying into the kitchen, muttering to yourself in French as you turned off the stove top and fussed with various pots and dishes. 

“I am so unbelievably in love with her.” Remus murmured, eyes glued to your form as you danced through the kitchen. 

Sirius scoffed as he leaned against his boyfriend with his arms crossed, feigning nonchalance. “I can’t believe you were so scared to tell her.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Remus to know he was glaring at him; he could feel it.

But he also felt his heart grow three sizes when you turned to look at both of them with a beaming smile and a steaming dish in front of you, completely unphased that one of your boyfriends was a werewolf even though as a witch you knew exactly what that meant. And not only were you unphased, but you were still falling in love with them regardless.

Sirius had admittedly been very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he didn’t want to muck it up by scaring you off. Because really, how many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

If meeting Remus had been destiny, meeting you was prophetic; and who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

(translation: I feel like I’m very much falling in love with you).

[coff33andb00ks]

Hazy Days - LN

summary: summer fling, don't mean a thing pairing: lando norris x divorced!reader word count: 3.6k warnings: non-explicit smut (mdni), older woman a.n.: fuck quadrant's summer scope vids song: summer nights from Grease

You're doing it again. It's been over a year now and you're still rubbing your ring finger with your thumb. You're not as quite as surprised when you don't feel the rings, and when you look down you're relieved to see that the pale patch of skin has disappeared. I've got to buy a ring, you think. Because, despite everything, you still feel weird without a ring on that finger.

You give your head a shake. The marriage is over. It was over before it officially began, but the divorce has been finalized for almost a month. The settlement is in your account – it's how you're paying for this spontaneous trip.

You're no longer a married woman. A terrifying thought, even now, when your entire identity for nearly 10 years was wife. And now…

Now you don't know what you are.

So you packed a bag, bought a plane ticket on a whim, and now you're at some seaside hotel in the south of France. You're looking out at the people on the beach, and further out at the yachts dotting the Mediterranean.

A place you've always wanted to visit and now you're frozen in the hotel room, scared to death that you won't enjoy it. Like a decadent dessert you've thought about all day that tastes like an old candy bar when you finally get a bite. Like the new Louboutin pumps you'd wanted for your birthday two years ago that had pinched your toes and you haven't worn since.

You've built this up in your head and now you're afraid it won't live up to your expectations.

Babes, enjoy it. This is gonna be so healing for you.

Your best friend's words ring in your mind and you reach for the phone to call her for more reassurance, then remember the time difference. She loves you, but she won't appreciate a phone call this early unless it's an emergency.

"God, get over it. You're not the only newly divorced woman in the world," you mutter to yourself, turning away from the window to finish dressing. You want to do some exploring, get plenty of photos to share, maybe find a few souvenirs.

Your thumb slides over your ring finger as you exit the hotel a little while later and you sigh, turning back to ask the concierge of a nice jewelry store. When you tell him you're interested in purchasing a ring, he knows the perfect place and soon you're on your way, strolling along the winding streets.

The afternoon sun is hot and you breathe a sigh of relief once you step into the shop. The interior or hushed and you're aware of the clerks' eyes all moving to you. A couple young men at the counter are chatting and laughing, not paying attention to you at all, and you venture further into the shop.

The men are looking at bracelets, and a smartly dressed clerk is more than happy to show you the rings, leading you to a low counter and inviting you to sit in the cushioned chair.

"Oh… No, not anything like a wedding or engagement ring," you say as a tray of sparkling diamond rings is brought out. "I… I recently got divorced and I need something to replace my rings. Something that looks nothing like a wedding ring?"

From behind you, you can hear the two men murmuring, their English accents oddly comforting after three days of hearing only French voices. You finally narrow the selection down to two and are trying to decide when movement out the corner of your eye snags your attention.

It's one of the men, peering at necklaces. You steal a glance at him – handsome, well dressed, a head of dark curls ��� and look back at the rings when he turns his head, embarrassed to be caught looking.

You're focusing on the rings, trying them on and testing out how they feel against your thumb, when he speaks.

"I think the other one looks better."

Jerking your head up, you find yourself looking into a pair of brilliant green eyes.

It's so fucking unfair that his lashes are so pretty.

"Do you?" you ask, looking back at the rings.

"Yeah – unless you want something flashy?"

He's moved close enough you can smell his cologne.

He even smells divine. So fucking unfair.

You switched rings and nodded. "Flashy isn't really me… I'll take this one," you tell the clerk.

The man smiles. "Getting used to a ring?"

"Ah… No," you chuckle. "Can't get used to not having one."

His smile dies and a look of panic flashes over his face. "Um… Sorry?"

You almost laugh. Giving your head a shake, you watch the clerk wrap the ring and wait for her to return. "Don't be."

"Oh," he murmured, smile returning and sliding into a grin. "Congratulations, then."

This time you do laugh. "Thanks."

He gives you a look as the clerk returns, and before you can reach for your wallet he's already handing over his card. You open your mouth to protest but he tips his head. "A congratulations gift," he insists.

His friend approaches, giving you a friendly nod. "What are we congratulating?"

You smile weakly. "The end of my marriage."

"Divorce?" he asks. When you nod, he smirks. "The best thing about marriage, honestly."

"Max."

"What am I supposed to say?" Max protests, holding up his hands.

The first man groans. "You're such a – cheers," he says when the clerk brings his card back. "Let's go before you embarrass me even more."

You're smiling at their banter as you thank the clerk for her assistance. When you stand to make your way out, he's waiting near the door.

"Buy you a drink?" he offers as he opens the door for you.

His name is Lando. Max – pain in my ass – is obviously his best friend and doesn't join you for drinks as he's got to get packed up to leave. When you suggested Lando spend time with him before he goes home, Lando waved it off.

"He lives in England but I see him all the time."

Lando, it turns out, does not live in England. He looks almost embarrassed when you ask where he lives, and when he finally mutters that he lives in Monaco your eyes widen. Surely he's too young to be that well off?

Trust fund, probably. Now you don't feel so bad for his paying for the ring.

"That must be… Interesting," you say, taking a sip of your drink. He's brought you to a chic bar at the beach, and you're sitting on the upper terrace, the slowly sinking sun casting a golden glow over the water.

"I don't really get much time there." He fiddles with the stirrer in his drink. "I'm gone a lot."

Interest piqued, you set your glass down. "Oh?" Maybe he's a model, even if he is a little on the short side. Not that he's that short – he's definitely taller than you. "What do you do?"

"I drive cars." He ducks his head briefly. "Racecars."

"Really? I'm not… I'm a dumb American, the only racing I really know is the Indy 500?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "That's IndyCar."

You listen, fascinated, as he tells you about formula one, which you have heard about but it's not in your orbit. He seems both relieved and amused at the fact you're not into sports, and you can feel him relax as he laughs when you tell him you only watch the Super Bowl every year so you can eat a ton of junk food.

A drink turns into a few, and he's so nice to listen to, so easy to talk to. When he suggests dinner, you hesitate. You don't want to be that woman, newly divorced and falling into bed with the first man that looks at you. Especially one so young—

"How old are you?" you blurt.

It obviously surprises him and, though he was halfway out of his seat he sank back down. "How old are you?"

You refuse to play coy, to fish for compliments like you're desperate. "I'm thirty."

His eyebrows lift. "Twenty-four."

So not that young. More like… younger.

Lando gives you a smile. "Does that cancel dinner?"

You look into his eyes for a long moment then glance out at the view. There's an obvious fork in the road in front of you. One leads to something with this handsome racecar driver, and you have a feeling it's going to be more than dinner. The other leads to the rest of your solo vacation, with the cloud of what could be lingering. Looking at him again, you slowly breathe in.

Expensive cologne. Salt air.

"I'd love dinner," you say, and his smile rivals the setting sun.

You'll never be able to describe the meal you ate. Lando makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. Not in a demanding way. He's just… Magnetic. He tells you stories about his career, about embarrassing moments and highs and lows and talks about his other ventures. How does he have time to sleep? He talks glowingly about Max and has you giggling into your wine over a story of the two of them getting into trouble that left Lando locked out of his parents' home. When he apologizes for talking so much you almost beg him to not stop. But he asks about you, and you can't help thinking he seems genuinely interested.

"My life isn't half as interesting as yours," you say with a shake of your head.

"I don't know… You're divorced, halfway around the world, having dinner with a strange guy. Seems interesting to me," he murmurs.

"Oh, it's a tale as old as time. Girl meets boy, girl falls in love and gives up everything… Girl becomes a woman, boy becomes a toad."

Lando winced. "No kissing to turn him into a prince?"

"He'd have to want the kiss for that to happen."

"What a fucking idiot," Lando says.

You tilt your head to the side. "For being a toad?"

"For not wanting your kiss."

You set your glass down with a surprised gulp. About to call him out for feeding you a line, you pause, seeing the glimmer in his eyes. Without thinking you lick your lips and see his gaze dip down briefly. You don't know what to say or how to react so you sit there, unable to refrain from thinking about how a kiss from Lando would feel.

"His loss." Lando's voice was barely above a murmur. Then, shockingly, his cheeks darken and his tongue darts over his lips. He looks down at his plate and you can hear his sigh before he looks up, his expression serious. "You gave up everything?"

"A slight exaggeration, really." You shrug, picking at your food. "I had dreams that I put on hold to help him achieve his."

"I've never been married. But, like…" He sighs, setting his fork down. "That doesn't seem fair?"

"Life isn't—"

"I know, but marriage isn't life is it?" His face screws up at that but he forges ahead. "Isn't the whole point of it to support and help each other achieve their dreams?"

Smiling sadly, you nod. "I thought it was. He thought different."

"What dreams did you put on hold?" he asks after a moment.

"I wanted to get published." You look down at your half-eaten food. "When I was a kid, I loved reading and making up stories… I was studying for my degree in English – I planned to teach writing while working on my novels, because it's hard to make money doing it at first, and… Now it's too late."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'd have to go back to school and—"

"Yeah? Would you have to start over completely?"

"No." You can't remember how many credit hours you have left, but it would only take a phone call or an email to find out. "I wasn't too far from my degree."

"Then what's stopping you?" he challenged softly.

You don't have an answer. Nothing but the fear of failing, and you don't know him well enough to admit that.

"I don't read." He winces a bit at the admission. "Dyslexic, yeah? It's a miracle I finished school. But anyway. You write a novel and I promise to read it."

A smile pulls at your lips. "You'd do that for me? Someone you don't even know?"

"Of course." He grins. "I believe in supporting the arts."

He drives you back to the hotel in his sleek sportscar and for once you understand the allure of a purring engine and soft leather seats. There's no impending pressure when he offers to see you to your room, only the heat of his hand at the small of your back and the enticing scent of his cologne.

At your door, he hesitates. "Can I kiss you?"

Has anyone ever asked your consent for a kiss? You don't think so and the realization makes you sad, but you push that away because you've wanted him to kiss you since halfway through dinner.

His lips are a lighted match to kindling. The heat and desire are immediate and you're leaning into him, frightened by the strength of your want but craving more. It's been an embarrassingly long time since you've felt this way and you're aware that it may be even longer before you feel it again. So when the door finally clicks open you don't hesitate to step inside, pausing and reluctantly breaking the kiss to look up at him.

And wish you'd googled how to invite a man into your hotel room without sounding desperate.

But you don't have to ask.

"Okay to come in?" he whispers.

"God yes," you gasp.

His lips are on yours before the door closes behind him. Wrapping your arms around him, you sink into the kiss, snatching in breaths as his hands cradle your head. A soft whine is muffled against his tongue as you grip the front of his shirt, knees nearly forgotten as the tenderness of his touch wars the ferocity of his kiss.

"Fuck," he mumbles against your lips, his hands beginning to wander, molding you closer against him, his breath hitching as he clutches your hips. He pulls his head back slightly and you can feel his harsh breathing as he stares at you before crashing his lips to yours again.

The need grows stronger, almost primal, and you're backing towards the bed, gasping as his hands pull at your dress, nearly ripping it. Craving the feel of his skin, you do the same to his shirt, barely noticing the trail of clothing on the floor, too focused on his touch and his smell and the decadence of his kiss. He guides you down, swallowing your gasp as your bare skin touches the cool sheets.

Breaking the kiss with a harsh moan, he braces his hands on either side of you and lifts up slightly. He's panting, lips parted, and he gives a soft chuckle of surprise. "I didn't plan on this."

You lick your lips, still tasting him. And only craving more. "Neither did I."

He blinks, eyes almost wild as they dart from yours to your lips and back again. And all you can think—

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. You know it'll never happen but the romantic inside you wishes you could wake up to his eyes every morning.

He leans down, and his kiss sends every coherent thought away. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, his hair softer than you thought it would be. His hands are rough but gentle at the same time, in your hair and trailing down your sides. Your name is a longing moan vibrating against your throat as you trace the muscles of his back.

"Lando," you gasp, arching beneath him.

"I know… I know." Hot breath at your ear, fingers digging into your thigh. Guiding your leg over his hip.

"Please." It's a soft moan.

"Fuck." His lips move to yours, his gasping whimper muffled.

The frantic need is still there but he's unhurried, as though he's trying to memorize every breath, every touch. When your hand flies out to grasp the sheet his hand follows, fingers threading between yours and gripping tightly. You're lost in the haze, sweat forming between you, sheets twisting. Ecstasy rises, peaks, and it's so sudden and delicious your cries ring out.

"Y/n." A desperate whine that only increases the bliss.

Rolling, twisting, arching. It's feverish and needy and so good so so good.

You both collapse, your hands in his sweat-damp hair. Panting, tingling, you wait for the awkwardness that never comes. His touch is tender, his lips gentle on yours before he's pulling away, murmuring that he'll get a towel. He's back before you can catch your breath, and by the time you can breathe he's kissing you again.

The sky outside is turning gray when you both breathlessly agree to get some sleep. You half expect him to leave, but he's there when you wake up, sleeping on his stomach next to you, his arm slung across your waist, his gentle snores telling you he's fast asleep.

And though you distinctly remember him saying he was going back to Monaco that day, he sticks around. Blushes and shrugs when you ask him about it over lunch, then suggests borrowing a friend's yacht for the night. The days bleed into the nights, a blurred span of time of sightseeing, swimming, and Lando.

When it's time for you to pack up to go home you feel a little bereft. But the vacation can't last forever. You've got to go back to real life, figure out how you'll live as a completely free woman. And he's got to get back to his life, jetting around the world and undoubtedly breaking hearts.

You exchange numbers and he promises to keep in touch, but you know you'll be forgotten before your plane takes off. You've been a pleasant distraction for his summer break, nothing more.

You're about to board when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. From Lando.

- You dropped your ring in my car.

As you stare at the words, you realize you haven't rubbed your ring finger in nearly a week. A picture appears on the screen, the ring – that he bought – resting in his palm.

- Hold onto it for me?

He won't. He'll give it away or sell it or take it back to the shop.

But, when you're back home and have exchanged texts with him and even a couple phone calls – yes I promise I contacted an advisor, I'm signing up for classes – and he lets you know his break is over and he's getting back to work, you cave and pull up footage of him in an interview.

He looks different on the screen of your laptop. Good, but different. And you can only focus on the necklace that's just visible under his (hideous really) orange shirt. When he leans, it shifts, and you see it.

Your ring.

"Are you still hung up on her?"

Lando's head snaps up at Max's question. "What?"

His friend gestures to the phone in Lando's hand. "That American?"

He feels his cheeks heat and realizes Max knows he's looking at your Instagram. "I'm not hung up."

Max just looks at him.

"I'm just checking on her," he mutters.

With a sigh, Max softens and sits next to him. "It's okay to like her, you know."

He huffs, his hand reaching to fiddle with the ring on his necklace. "She was just supposed to be a fling."

"But she wasn't," Max says after a moment.

Lando shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers.

Silence lingers, stretches as his thumb hovers over your most recent post.

Then, softly. "Am I stupid?"

Max shoots him a look.

"For thinking it was special," he adds before his friend can insult him. "For thinking she thinks it was special."

"Was it special?"

He swallows hard, rolling the ring between his fingers as he looks at the post, a photo of a cup of coffee next to a laptop. Up past my bedtime parsing Austen. Liking it, he closes the app and locks his phone.

Was it special? Or was it just the great sex and no strings that had him thinking it was? At first, in those days immediately after you'd left, he'd only thought about the sex. How freeing it had been, knowing he wouldn't see you again and could let inhibitions go. But with each week that passed the sex wasn't the only thing he thought about.

Laughter and sunshine. Salty air and sweet conversation. Honeyed voice and understanding eyes.

He lifts his head, meeting Max's eyes. He doesn't have to say it. Max has known him for more than half his life. But he answers.

"Yes."

Taglist:

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