#AND you have to keep winding these little things for hours while trying not to move too much or else they'll gruesomely kill you too

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

part two

masterlist | taglist: pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. daddy kink. MDNI

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Chapter two

Three weeks later and you don't quite know what's happened, or who you even are anymore. You're waspish and short, run ragged between classes and the two families you've somehow managed to become employed for. They're nice enough to coordinate between themselves, most nights - Kate reaching out with a schedule the two of them have agreed on that lets you manage both kids at once. That doesn't mean they can always get their kids under the same roof for you, their schedules always too full to manage the drive across town. As if yours is any better.

The tentative routine you've fallen into is easy enough on paper, attending morning class before heading over to the Laswell's and doing most of your classwork there, even attending an online lesson once a week because Colin is a little angel who can remain calm as long as you are, but it all goes pretty much to shit the second you embark to pick up Emily from preschool around midafternoon, loading Colin into the carseat the Laswells very generously bought for you. 

(Between the fact that it stays belted into your car twentyfour seven now because you don't trust yourself to reinstall it properly without the weirdly mechanical tests John used to ensure its safety when he set it up the first time and the fact that Colin can occasionally be heard cooing in the background of your more interactive lessons, there's definitely a rumor going around campus that you have a baby. You're not sure how you feel about it, but it does tend to keep the more annoying boys at arm's length so you haven't really gone out of your way to correct it quite yet. Emily's booster gets stored in your trunk, though. You don't quite want to know what kind of leper you'd become if your classmates thought you'd been on Sixteen and Pregnant.) 

The girl is… tougher. Well behaved but boisterous, moody at times. Her rambunctiousness is infectious, gets Colin worked up from the confines of his seat in a way he doesn't usually wind down from for hours while Emily prattles on about her day and waves glittery crafts at you, leaving your car looking like a bad drag hangover, still-tacky finger paints smearing like lipstick stains on your upholstery. 

(This is why Emily's booster stays in the trunk, there's already enough misleading evidence all over your car.)

(This is why John doesn't pick up his own daughter, you're fairly sure, and you've half a mind to install a glitter bomb in his glove box as revenge.)

You don't always have to watch the girl, John's evening schedule an unfixed thing, but Emily always seems excited to see you pulling up, as if she knows that her father works even when he's home. It's why you try to stay patient with her when her boundless energy riles the baby up, or when her incessant need for attention prevents you from finishing papers on time. It's not her fault, but it is slowly driving you insane.

Gina helps out when she can, usually bringing dinner for everyone when she stops by the Price's to pick up her kid in the early evening. Sometimes she even stays for a bit, helps keep Emily entertained while you streamline the bedtime routine with hopes of finishing up homework after she tucks in for the night. It's a valiant effort made by all, but the girl doesn't often play along, much too busy antagonizing you to bother showering in a timely manner. There are nights you think of her more like a little sister than a client, the way she picks on you. You feed it right back in your darker hours, when having every minute of your day planned out and consumed weighs on you, giving you teeth. You'd made her cry once by mistake, your tone more than your words themselves needling under her skin until she burst into tears, hid in her room until her father came home. There'd been an odd sense of relief to it, balancing out the panic of a bad review. Sure, you'd be fired and no one would want to hire you ever again if John used that one app where you got most of your odd jobs, but at least the Laswells wouldn't give you up and you could return to your regular schedule. But when Mr. Price got home that evening, he'd only listened to his whiny daughter with a soft smile, kissing her on the forehead before telling you both that he 'Wished his girls would get along.'

You can see where Emily gets it from, her ability to drive you insane, but where the girl is loud and prickly or candy-sweet by turns, a constant one man crew of Guess Who, her father is a steady, low stream abrading you, the funnel where he slips through your cells eroding until he's a constant bubbling under your skin. He's incorrigible, insidious, shameless. 

Escalating, lock step with you.

You still haven't returned his shirt. Well, technically you had - once. Worn it that Wednesday, the first time he'd asked you back. You'd done it with every intention of teasing him a little, noting you'd need a replacement if he wanted it back now, and changing out of it before leaving for the night. He'd turned it on your head with a simple 'You could always just take it off,' before you'd even been able to reveal your plan to give it back to him. 

He should have expected you to retaliate after that, returning home with it once more. It's remained safe in your dresser ever since, one less avenue for him to come barrelling down the center of, catching you in his headlights like a deer too scared to run. And if keeping it means you get to wear it to bed sometimes, so be it. That's his fault, too, always texting you so late to 'make sure you got back okay.' It's possible he's being gentlemanly, but that would be a first so you refuse to believe it, assume instead that he wants to make you think of him when you're climbing into bed each night. Like you need the help, like you haven't already worn the scent off his shirt. Sometimes you think about weaseling another one from him, or wonder how long it would take him to notice if you outright stole one. You know which room is his, have caught glimpses through the cracked door sometimes when following Emily up to her room. He never shuts it, too trusting. You probably would've already gotten yourself off on his pillow like a bitch in heat if he hadn't let slip early on that Emily sometimes likes to sleep in his bed when he's away. 'Think she misses me sometimes,' his voice was sad but the leer he gave you as he continued was anything but. 'She's allowed, if she wants.'

The next day he mentioned Emily falls asleep quickest when someone lies down with her to read her story. Your papers continue going unwritten, the girl wandering out of her bedroom late into the night because you refuse to start the habit when you know how it will end.

It's unsustainable, feels like you're circling the drain. But the money is great. 

While the Laswells had never been stingy, John pays you like a dental surgeon each time he needs you. That same exorbitant rate from the first night, now with a prepaid gas card he seems very uninterested in monitoring the spending of. You'd be tempted to test your theory if you had time, take a road trip out to your parents or something just to see if it ever got declined. Sometimes you fantasize about it at night, texting him an SOS and a picture of your gas gauge on E. It's embarrassing how often he shows up to save the day in your daydreams now, racing to your side in his gleaming Lexus to refuel your car with a suggestive smile, working the nozzle past your intake valve like he's slipping into a wet cunt. 

You should probably get laid, but who has the time? Especially given your… situation. 

(Your situation being there is no situation. Never has been one. Virginal as the day you were born save for some over-the-pants heavy petting in high school and a rotation of cheap drug store vibes you usually end up abandoning for your own fingers because dear god, you'd think you'd have learned after the first wasted investment but up until now, with John's much needed help, you haven't really been in a position to just spend on sex toys all willy nilly and while yeah, sure, you are now, every time you go to spend his money on an imitation cock you can't help thinking might look like his, you suddenly remember you're only here because you can't put your big girl panties on and -.)

It takes time, is the problem. You don't need the whole blanket under the stars treatment, but you at least want some evidence that you're not going to get jackhammered into the mattress by some selfish, overeager boy who wouldn't know how to get you off if you gave him a manual. But evidence takes time to gather, takes meetups in frat parties you have no interest in attending, and makeout sessions smelly couches just to see if your partner knows how to use their tongue. And for all his provisions, John (John.) has made well and truly certain that the one thing you don't have, is in fact time.

>Need you tonight.

The vibration of your phone against the library desk is loud as a gunshot, the message itself ringing in your ears just as bad. You placed your phone back on the table and sent your deskmate, a handsome senior named Paul who'd been your unofficial Saturday morning library pal for the last two semesters, an apologetic glance.

Paul just waved his hand at you dismissively, a small smile tugging at his lips. With his head bowed into his fourth edition of a rather intimidating neuroscience textbook that gave you anxiety just looking at it, the only way you could tell he wasn't annoyed by your antics at all was the dimpling of his cheeks. It distracted you momentarily, the urge to nibble at the fat there sudden and overwhelming, then your phone vibrated again because you'd been too distracted to silence it and you snatched it back up with an annoyed huff, ready to tell your employer off about disturbing your Sacred Saturday, your one day off a week. 

(Again.)

> I know what day it is but it's an emergency.

> I'll make it up to you.

< how so?

You chew your lip waiting for a response, the bubbling typing indicator roiling like your stomach. It's always like this, texting with John - every response teetering on too much. It's why you usually prefer to coordinate with the Laswells as much as possible, minimizing your discussions with Mr. Price to those late night 'Did you make it home okay?' messages. 

(And sending him a photo evidence that his shirt was still safe and in your care once.

If you'd been wearing it at the time, snuggled up in bed and haloed in warm fairy lights with the hem riding a little high, that was his fault for asking after it so late.)

Tap, tap, tap.

Across from you, Paul drums his pen off the spiral notebook that sits between you, a custom since your third week sitting together. It's blank aside from your brief, handwritten conversations as far as you can tell, an accessory Paul seems to carry around for this express purpose, evidently preferable to just asking for your number so you can text each other to get around the strict no talking policy in the quietest lounge of the library. In the year or so since you've met him, you've never heard Paul talk, all of your correspondences reduced to the notebook which he draws your attention to now, his tidy scrawl asking a simple but damning question: 'Who's the guy?'

You shake your head, instinctual - automatic. Paul crooks an unimpressed brow at you and underlines his original question. 

'Just some guy I work for, why?'

Paul smirks when he reads it but turns serious in response, waving at your overall demeanor as if that answers everything.

In your palm, your phone gives a muted buzz and you have to physically swallow back the urge to check it immediately. You roll your eyes at Paul instead. A poor excuse for the frustration you want to unleash, but opening the valve even a hair was better than just letting it build.

His scrawl is neat when Paul responds. Unaffected, calm. 'You've got a crush.' And then below that, its own paragraph: 'Should I be worried?'

It takes a moment for the words to register, the moment dragging out too long before your eyes dart up to your deskmate. Paul winks, scheming and sly, and your jaw hinges open in shock.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

"Shit," you hiss, scrambling out of your seat as your phone continues to vibrate with an incoming call. John's contact lights the screen, the stupid money bag emoji you'd used for him mocking you. You wait until you make it to the stairwell to answer to avoid the worst of the librarian's wrath, though she still shoots you a disapproving glare as you stalk past her post. You've half a mind to let the stairwell door slam behind you, but it would echo louder than your anger and you want John to hear every word when you accept the call.

"I am at the library," you hiss by way of greeting, as if that perfectly illustrates why you're so annoyed with him.

John just grunts, uninterested. "Are you available or not tonight? I need an answer ASAP so I can make plans if you're -."

"I'm off on Saturdays."

A beat passes as John recollects, evidently unused to being interrupted. "Right. Which is why I offered to pay you double your regular rate."

Confused, you check your texts to read the one you'd missed, too busy being chatted up by a cute boy much more appropriately aged. In it, John pleads desperately with you: offers twice your pay, dinner, anything you want.

You think of Paul's cute dimples, the way he's known you for a year without asking for your number. You think of John covered in shaving cream, his first words to you a joke about how desperate you looked - how desperate you both looked.

Hand pressed to your forehead, you shut your eyes and ask what time John needs you.

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart. A real lifesaver. I promise I'll make it up to you, just tell me how, okay? And as for tonight, no later than seventeen hundred, please - though honestly you can come by anytime, I'm sure Emily will be happy to see you."

Emily. Right. "Well I'm at the library for a reason, so -."

"You can use my study, of course. The munchkin knows better than to bug me when I'm in there."

Unbidden, you imagine pestering John yourself when he's lounged in some fancy modern desk chair, leather and broad. You bet his study smells like tobacco, that there's a bar cart in the corner. You imagine him using your mouth like a tumbler of whiskey, punishment for running it too much. He'd drink from your lips whenever he -.

"But I suppose I don't have all those useful resources like textbooks… well, consider it a standing offer."

"S-sure, Mr. Price. Thanks."

"Of course. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, John's breath stutters. His voice is low when he signs off, blunt and direct. Doesn't wait to hear your response. "Be good, sweetheart."

***

You're not entirely sure what being good constitutes, but you're fairly sure using John's emergency credit card Emily located for you in the freezer to Instacart approximately one day's minimum wage worth of junk food because Emily had been sad and despondent all day wasn't it. Nor was letting her dance her sugar rush off to less than appropriate music, probably, but it was worth it to see her smiling again after the fit she'd thrown when her father had left for the evening. You're both sweaty and breathless now, collapsing onto the couch between songs to shovel more M&Ms into your mouths and make fun of each other's dance moves. Emily says you use too much arm movements, but she's only four and thinks hopscotch skips are the new craze so you ask what she knows anyway and laugh at the way she rolls her eyes at you.

John's talkative too, apparently, the unexpected clients he'd been urgently called in to entertain evidently not holding his attention. He's never exactly radio silent when you've got his kid in your charge, but he usually lets you take the lead (pepper him with stupid questions you already know the answer to just to find an excuse to distract him because maybe you kinda like how short he gets) on those nights.

(Despite this standard, you don't feel the need to tell him you'd managed to read his credit card number through the brick of crystalline ice he'd cleverly hidden it in. You hope he's really short when he figures that stunt out.)

Tonight, however, it's John peppering you with questions. They start out innocent enough, asking after his daughter because he felt bad leaving her on a night that he'd promised to be home and he could see how much it upset her. Those questions peter out when you send him a picture of her all giggly and wound up, her hair freshly braided in a style she said he's too clumsy to accomplish for her. With confirmation that his daughter was feeling better, John's texts turn rapidly back to you.

> And how about you, sweetheart? Are you doing better?

< wym, better?

> What do you mean, wym?

< har har

> I mean you were rather short with me earlier. Are you still upset with me?

> I promise I also don't want to be working on a Saturday, for what it's worth.

< not mad

< just seems like you're not really needed with how much you're blowing up my phone

> Honestly, no. This is a waste of both our time.

> Have you decided how I can make it up to you, at least?

Actually, you hadn't even thought of it, figuring he was just being exaggerative - that he'd pay you your exorbitant rate and be done with it, send you on your way with your thoughts all twisted after some more growled insinuations and a pat on your ass, probably. He seemed like he was maybe two visits away from trying his luck, anyway.

Maybe you could ask for it sooner. Clear the air, finally feel his hands on you. You tell him you don't want anything, clarify nothing he can give you when he calls that out for being a lie.

> Sure about that? I can help with most things.

And the thing is, he's right. There are a lot of things you want. You want to get a better grade on your next econ assignment, you want a full night's sleep. You want to have free time, pick up a hobby. You have a growing desire to learn how to make the perfect pasta after seeing her scarf so many lackluster take out spaghetti bolognaise dishes. The solution was obvious, though one you knew he wouldn't want to hear.

< okay. i want more free time

> So quit with the Laswells.

It draws you up short, Emily bouncing around you unawares. It's one thing to suspect John's - your - end game, but another thing to see it batted around so casually. It makes you feel taken advantage of, guided in a way you don't necessarily appreciate. The Laswells were your first real, well-paying gig, your ticket to independence. You didn't relish the thought of abandoning them and you certainly didn't like to be coerced into the decision. 

But John did pay very well.

< just like that?

John's answer is far too quick, the status changing directly from read to answered with a speed that suggested he may have had a response drafted already which he simply copy/pasted. 

> It would make the most sense. I can pay well enough to make up for the lost income, plus my schedule works better with your classes. 

> Honestly, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did with them.

< i wouldn't want to let them down…

> Nonsense, I'm sure they'd understand. You're a busy girl with a full schedule, afterall.

So were they - the whole reason you'd been working for them so long. 

< i don't think i could quit on them. kate scares me.

> I'll take care of Kate, okay? No need to worry. I owe you one anyway, remember?

>Just let Daddy handle it.

It takes you a minute, the words somehow too natural to trip you up. Before you, Emily screeches happily about some cartoon that's maybe a touch too old for her and you think to yourself that she's going to sleep good tonight, all tuckered out as you know she's going to be and then you nearly drop your phone in your rush to chastise him, or run your mouth like you always do, or maybe double down on your request.

But the words don't come. Every time you manage to string two whole thoughts together it peters out, the textual manifestation of the gaping anime gasp he's managed to draw from you as you imagine him watching your typing bubbles appear and fizzle over and over again. If he's watching, of course, but he's a busy man so maybe -.

This time when your phone buzzes, there's no threat of a scolding librarian to keep your yelp suppressed. Just the odd look Emily shoots you before being distracted by her brightly colored show again, turning away from you disinterestedly as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

"Mr. Price?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"S- sorry?"

His voice is calmer when he repeats himself, the same tone he uses on his daughter when she's too fidgety to listen. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

And that answer is easy because the flutter in your tummy you get whenever his words grow a little too overt is not discomfort, so the answer comes easily, if quietly. "No."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Through the fog of your fluster, you remember Paul and his glacial pace, the cat calls from boys you've never met before and have no interest in. This is different. This is good. "No."

The breath John lets out doesn't sound like he's been holding it, more a pleased sigh than anything, accompanied by a low hum. "Good girl. Appreciate you telling me. Is this something you want?"

"I just said -?"

"Not wanting me to stop and wanting something to follow through to its logical conclusion are not the same things. Is this something you want?"

The question grates - the notion that he would think of this all as a waste of time if you didn't know you wanted him, maybe. "Hadn't thought about it. You only just -," You counter vehemently, but John just laughs, a heavy burst of breath through his nose. It catches in his mustache - wind cutting through the grass.

"If I were to come home tonight to find you sleeping on my couch and decided to wake you up all sweetly and softly, would that be alright?"

You picture yourself sleep-soft and pliant, heavy hands soothing over your flank as John's rough voice coaxes you awake. "Yes," you breathe.

He hums approvingly. "And if I were to wake you with my tongue in your cunt, would that be too much?"

"John -!" you hiss, scandalized.

"Try again."

A beat passes where you try to smother the pit of nerves in your stomach. "Mr. Price."

"Better. Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Mr. Price, I -." You huff a breath, take advantage of the fact he can't see you to visibly straighten your spine, steel yourself. "Mr. Price, what do you want?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Easy. I've wanted to bend you over every available surface since you first barged into my bathroom and hinged yourself over that sink."

"I didn't."

"I want to keep that clever little mouth of yours quiet by stuffing it full of my cock. But I also want to hear you complain about what a brat my daughter's been all night because you're cute when you're mad. I want to come home and know what the two of you grabbed for dinner by licking it off your teeth." He pauses to give you an opening, notes your silence, and continues in a much softer voice. "And I want you to be able to focus on school a little better."

You can't manage anything better than a soft oh, and John's responding laugh is a low rumble, voice deceptively soft when he continues - the same voice he uses on Emily when she's too tired to behave properly. You wonder if his colleagues can hear him again, wonder if that's just how he's going to speak to you regardless.

"The question, sweetheart."

"I would like that, Mr. Price."

John's silent in the beat that passes, a hinge creaking open spilling ambient chatter in the background. He'd been sequestered, which means that last tone was only meant for you. "I'll see you tonight, kiddo. Behave for Daddy, yeah?"

[bravevolunteer]

i am once again thinking about night 4 of sister location

[froggibus]

i’m begging you for some nsfw hcs with wade & logan

i NEED more info about jealous sex with them specifically

please and thank you 💋💋

Jealousy Sex - Logan Howlett & Wade Wilson

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader (no pronouns are used but has a pussy) x Wade Wilson

Genre: smut/nsfw

CW: poly! relationship, jealousy, possession, scent kink/scenting, taunting & humiliation, oral, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, AFTERCARE

omg of course!! the two of them being jealous over you would be such a handful >~< id love to write a full length of this sometime too!! thank you for the request lovely 💓

these two are such a handful when they’re jealous

Logan has no patience for other men getting in your personal space

if some other guy is talking to you too long or starting to get a little too close

he comes and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck

he’ll make a big show of it too, sucking at your skin and breathing in your scent

“d’ya smell that? hm?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together, wondering what’s about to come

“that’s my scent. mine. all fuckin’ over ya.”

he’s dragging you upstairs to the nearest locked bedroom before you can even react

sex with him while he’s jealous can go either way depending on just how riled up he is

sometimes it’s deep and intimate, going until you’ve forgotten the rest of the world

or it’s rough and hard and biting, until your head is spinning and his name is the only thing you can remember

he’ll have you face down in the pillows, his grip on your hips so tight you swear he’s using his claws

his cock bullies so deep inside of you that tears form in your eyes and you have to wind your hands into the sheets to keep from screaming

and once you throw Wade into the mix…

Wade does NOT get jealous easily & even if he does, he just jokes it off

it would take a lot to get him going & god help you if he does

he’ll swoop in when someone’s hitting on you and press himself in real close

not nearly as showy as Logan but he’ll make real good eye contact with them and call them out for it

“i know i know” he’ll kiss the side of your head. “so fuckable, right?“

he’ll have you propped on the counter of the nearest bathroom, his face stuffed between your legs in an instant

he’s holding your legs open with ease & relentlessly licking your poor, overstimulated clit

every time you try to shuffle away or close your legs he’s pushing them further apart

“ahahah, not yet baby. if you can still move then I haven’t done my job right.”

when they’re together & jealous?? you’re not leaving that room for hours and they’re going to fucking ruin you

they’ll have you whining and overstimulated long before either of them slip inside of you

they take turns over who gets to eat you out, the other holding your legs open and mumbling a tantalizing mix of praise and degradation in your ears

they’re both dirty talk kings

by the time Logan slips his cock through your folds, your legs are already shaking

you’re moaning so damn loud that Wade has to shove his cock in your mouth to keep the people at the party from hearing

the two of them can go for hours thanks to their regeneration and if you think you’re getting out anytime before that…

once you’re nice and fucked out in Logan’s arms, Wade’s sliding his cock inside of you and then they’re both fucking you

they get SO caught up in the moment trying to one up each other too—the only thing they can agree upon is that you’re theirs

when the night is over, you’ll be stuffed to the brim with cum and half-conscious, fucked out on the bed

they’ll clean you up nice and good though

Wade is the best ever at aftercare, he’ll always have water and a warm cloth for you (or in this case, a tshirt he stole from the closet)

meanwhile Logan will massage your aching muscles and shaking limbs, kissing your feverish skin

masterlist | marvel masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i receive ^^

[bonetrousledbones]

fuck it since my birthday is in like one day i'm gonna use my birthday wish to tell y'all to look at the shit going on in southern Appalachia right now after Hurricane Helene. look at it and talk about it and spread resources about it like wildfire because nobody else fucking is and it feels like we're on our own out here.

there are people who are stranded in hazardous areas that are still safer than trying to leave by driving on the increasingly hazardous roads. i'm personally going into my third day without electricity at this point, and haven't been able to get any gas for a generator to even keep our fridge working. there are very few places with power or running water, and cell service has just barely been restored in the last hour. ground crews are working hard to repair things, but there are many, many areas that are entirely inaccessible that may not receive these fixes for several more days if not weeks. i'm afraid my own neighborhood might become one of those areas if repairs don't get to us soon, and since we're much more rural i have a difficult time trying to be optimistic about it.

we're very far inland. i guarantee you damn near everybody here was expecting a little more rain and wind like we usually get during hurricane season, if they even heard about the hurricane beforehand in the first place since most people only got about a twelve hour notice before landfall- after several major areas had already been flooded. our terrain protects us from most major weather events- most locals have never encountered a single tornado or legitimate tornado warning in our entire lives. nobody i've talked to or heard from about it seems to have had any idea that it would be this bad. everybody's wishing that they took it more seriously, but we've never, ever had to before. i've seen people comparing it to Hurricane Katrina and honestly i'm not sure if that's all too inaccurate. today while looking for a single working gas station i drove by a military helicopter parked in front of the elementary school i went to when i was little.

please for the love of god, talk about us. talk about the good memories you had here or the beauty of our mountains, and talk about how devastated we are as we watch historic structures, buildings, and entire towns get wiped from the face of the earth like they were never even there. stop dismissing us as uneducated hicks and rednecks and hilllbillies and fucking help us.

r/Asheville resource/updates megathread (Asheville is the largest city in western North Carolina)

How to set up disaster roaming for cell service

WLOS Live updates

Duke Energy power outage map

WNC Landslide Map

Hotels accepting locals

Emergency shelter locations

I live in western North Carolina so all of my own resources are centered around that. If anybody from the other impacted areas has additional sources they'd like to add, please don't hesitate to do so.

[bodybaggage]

Ghostly Heir or Batty Custody?

DP X DC

———

The Justice League Watchtower was an advanced piece of technology, housing the world’s greatest heroes. But even in a place dedicated to protecting the Earth, some things were simply unavoidable—like gossip.

It had started innocently enough, as these things often do. Superman, having just returned from Gotham, was discussing the latest developments in the Batcave with Wonder Woman over a cup of coffee. The conversation was meant to be private, but when you have people like the Flash who can be in and out of a room before anyone notices, privacy is a relative term.

“So, Batman has another kid?” Superman had said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Are we running a daycare now?”

Superman shrugged. “Not sure. But he’s different from the others. White hair, glows a little. Bruce is being… secretive.”

“Bruce is always secretive,” Wonder Woman pointed out.

“Yeah, but this one seems—” Superman’s words were cut off as the Flash zoomed by, pretending to be busy with something else. The two superhumans exchanged a glance but said nothing more, knowing that once the speedster got wind of something, the whole League would know within the hour.

And they did.

Back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne—better known as Batman—was oblivious to the brewing storm. He sat in the Batcave, going over the latest reports on Gotham’s criminal activity with his usual intensity. Beside him, a ghostly figure floated lazily, occasionally glancing at the screens with mild interest.

Danny Fenton—known to most as Danny Phantom—had been in Gotham for a few weeks now, lying low while he figured out how to deal with some supernatural issues back in Amity Park. Clockwork had suggested Gotham as a good place to lay low, citing the city’s reputation for attracting all sorts of weirdos. Besides, Clockwork had argued, Batman wouldn’t care as long as Danny didn’t cause trouble.

And for the most part, Danny hadn’t. He’d stayed out of Gotham’s wayward criminal elements, kept his ghostly powers under wraps, and only occasionally wandered the streets at night to stretch his legs (or float, as it were).

Of course, he hadn’t counted on the Bat Family.

Damian had challenged him to a duel within minutes of their first meeting, insisting that he prove himself worthy of staying in the Batcave. Danny had countered by turning intangible and letting Damian tire himself out, which only seemed to frustrate the young Robin more.

Tim had interrogated him about the nature of ectoplasm and ghost powers, scribbling notes furiously as Danny tried his best to explain without giving too much away.

Jason had simply grunted, muttering something about “another brat” before disappearing on his motorcycle, while Dick had been the only one to offer a somewhat normal welcome.

“You’re like, what, the seventh kid Bruce has taken in?” Dick had said, clapping Danny on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not staying here permanently,” Danny had replied, but Dick had just laughed, as if Danny’s words were the punchline to a joke only he understood.

Things had been relatively quiet since then—until now.

It started as a low hum, a barely noticeable vibration in the air. Alfred, the ever-watchful butler, was the first to notice something amiss.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred said calmly, setting down the tray of tea he’d just brought in. “We appear to have… company.”

Bruce looked up from the Batcomputer, his eyes narrowing as the hum grew louder, evolving into a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Batcave. Danny, who had been floating upside down, lazily spinning in midair, suddenly snapped to attention.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Danny muttered, his expression turning from bored to annoyed in seconds.

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Alfred replied, his tone as even as ever, despite the growing disturbance.

The rumble turned into a roar, and suddenly, with a burst of green light, a swirling portal opened up in the middle of the Batcave. The vortex crackled with energy, and from it stepped a towering figure clad in ghostly armor, a crown of ectoplasmic fire atop his head.

Pariah Dark, the Ghost King, had arrived.

“BATMAN!” Pariah’s voice boomed through the cave, rattling the glass cases that held the old Robin suits. “I, Pariah Dark, King of the Infinite Realms, have come to challenge you for the custody of my heir!”

There was a moment of silence as the words hung in the air. Danny facepalmed, groaning audibly. “This is not happening.”

Bruce, for his part, remained as stoic as ever, though his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “Your heir?”

“Yes, my heir!” Pariah bellowed, his eyes glowing with ectoplasmic energy. “The boy you have taken into your care! I will not allow this—this mortal to usurp my claim!”

Bruce’s gaze flicked to Danny, who looked thoroughly unamused. “Is there something you forgot to mention?”

“Oh, come on!” Danny threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t what it looks like! I’m not his heir, and I’m definitely not up for custody!”

Pariah seemed undeterred by Danny’s protests. “You defeated me in battle, boy. By the laws of the Infinite Realms, that makes you my heir! And now this Bat-creature seeks to claim you as his own! I will not stand for it!”

Bruce’s expression remained impassive. “I’m not trying to claim him.”

“See?” Danny gestured to Bruce. “Totally not trying to claim me. So you can just go back to the Ghost Zone, Pariah. No custody battle needed.”

Pariah’s eyes narrowed, his fiery crown flaring. “The only way to resolve this is through combat! Batman, I challenge you to a duel for the boy!”

Bruce glanced at the portal, calculating the odds. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take the boy by force!” Pariah declared, raising his massive sword, which seemed to materialize out of thin air, crackling with ectoplasmic energy.

Danny floated down between the two, trying to keep the peace. “Guys, let’s just calm down. No need for a duel. I’m fine. No one’s taking anyone by force.”

Pariah looked down at Danny, his expression a mix of paternal concern and royal indignation. “Do not worry, my heir. I will defend your honor.”

Danny groaned again. “I don’t need my honor defended. I need you to stop making this weird.”

Before Danny could protest further, Bruce stepped forward, his voice as calm as ever. “Very well. A duel, then.”

“Seriously?” Danny looked at Bruce, incredulous. “You’re just going to agree to this?”

“If it ends the situation quickly, yes,” Bruce replied, his tone as dry as ever. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with an overprotective guardian.”

Pariah raised his sword, clearly satisfied with the outcome. “Prepare yourself, mortal! I will not hold back!”

“Hold on, hold on!” Danny zipped between them again, clearly exasperated. “We don’t need to do this! Pariah, go back to the Ghost Zone. Batman, you don’t have to fight him.”

Pariah looked genuinely perplexed. “But… the honor of the Infinite Realms demands it.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Danny insisted. “The Infinite Realms don’t care about some weird custody battle! Besides, I’m not a kid, and I’m not staying here permanently! I’m just crashing for a bit!”

Pariah frowned, lowering his sword slightly. “You… are not staying?”

“No!” Danny said, exasperated. “I’m not staying! I’m not your heir! I’m just Danny, okay?”

The Ghost King looked around, as if trying to process this information. “But… you are under his care. It was reported by reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources?” Danny echoed. “Who told you that?”

Pariah seemed to hesitate for the first time. “A rather talkative sorcerer in a trench coat. He mentioned it while muttering about ‘bloody bats’ and ‘undead nuisances.’”

Danny blinked, realization dawning. “Constantine. Of course.”

Bruce’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a faint glimmer of irritation in his eyes. “This… Constantine has been spreading rumors?”

Danny sighed heavily, feeling more tired by the minute. “Look, can we just forget this whole thing happened? Pariah, you go back to ruling the Ghost Zone. I’ll handle Constantine. And Batman, you can go back to doing… whatever it is you do.”

Pariah Dark seemed to mull this over for a moment before finally lowering his sword completely. “Very well. But know this, boy—if ever you require my assistance, you have but to call.”

“Sure, sure,” Danny muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With one last, dramatic sweep of his cape, Pariah Dark stepped back into the swirling green portal, which closed behind him with a final, ominous crackle.

For a moment, the Batcave was silent. Then Danny turned to Bruce, looking both sheepish and annoyed. “So… I guess I should have warned you about that.”

Bruce simply nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Next time, try to keep your interdimensional family disputes to a minimum.”

“I’ll do my best,” Danny promised, floating back toward the Batcomputer. “But with my luck, that’s not gonna be easy.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Bruce replied dryly, already turning back to his work. “And tell Constantine to keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Danny muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he floated back to his usual spot, thinking about the supernatural messes that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

As the Batcave returned to its usual state of brooding silence, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Gotham wasn’t the best place to lay low after all. But with the alternative being another encounter with Pariah, he figured the Batcave wasn’t so bad—at least, not until the next interdimensional incident.

[emmyrosee]

Bakugou is, for all intents and purposes, a massive baby.

God forbid you leave him for ten minutes before he starts wandering around the house looking for you. Mercy on you if you go out to the grocery store and don’t take him. And how dare you even consider get up to get a snack when he's in the bathroom, letting your shared spot get cold.

These things, he can not let go easily.

Naturally, this slips your mind every once in a while because a peaceful life with Bakugou Katsuki doesn't exist. When you forget, he makes it his mission to force you to remember his clingy ass.

Tonight, it would appear to be no different.

It's 02:30 when you snap back to reality, bleary eyes blinking to get your bearings back.

The lamp on the side table blinds you momentarily, there's music coming from the tv- credits, you deduce, from the show Denki had raved to you both about. When you angle your head up, you're met with a firm jawline that lets out a loud snore from the slight disturbance.

Katsuki never was good at staying awake during these things.

Smiling up at him, you're quick to place a tender little kiss on his chin, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches slightly. Gently, you slip out of his arms and cover him with the blanket, using the parted lips releasing the smallest little snores to ensure his slumber. He smacks his lips and turns slightly on his side, as if chasing the warmth you'd taken away, and you click the tv off to keep him in the dark. You shuffle your way into your bedroom to get your own rest; you shiver once you slip under the covers, the fabric cold from the lack of use and lack of Katsuki's body heat.

The minute you do warm up, however, you're out like a light, and you remain so for a few hours.

But then, there's someone at the end of your bed. You feel them, and it wakes you just barely. You shift the blankets higher on your shoulder for protection from whatever your subconsious picks up, and just when you feel normal, something speaks.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed is more than enough to snap you from your sleep, but it isn’t until you see the massive, bulky frame that your heart sinks and you scream, you scream as loud as you can, immediately scrambling to the corner of your bed.

“Stop screaming, it’s me.”

Your shaking hands immediately shoot to the lamp next to your bed and upon flicking it on, you’re greeted by a sleepy Katsuki, blanket around his shoulders and sleepy scowl on his face, as if you’re the one who just inconvenienced him.

“You freak! What are you doing!” You snap, quickly rubbing your eyes to knock the sleep from them to properly scold. He merely shrugs and smacks his tired lips, indifferent to the previous heart attack he’d given you.

“Left me alone on the couch,” he says, dropping the blanket onto the floor before crawling into bed next to you, casually. “We were snuggling. You abandoned me.”

“You-! I was-! Why-!”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he says, burying his face into his pillow and making a grabby hand for you, “c’mere, wanna spoon.”

Your heart, still pounding in your chest, finally lets breaths of air in, your hands trembling as you flick back off the light. You’re still mad, now shaking with fury, and as you roll to have your back facing him, you try to take deep breaths to calm down and not smother the man you somehow chose to love with a pillow.

“Hey,” he grumbles, tugging your sleep shirt. “Come here.”

“I can’t fucking stand you, Katsuki. I don’t even want to be in the same bed as you right now, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you.”

“And you thought threATENING ME AT THE END OF OUR BED WAS A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT?”

He goes silent, and you almost think he’s given up, and just as you blink your stinging eyes, he suddenly rolls on top of you, knocking the wind out of you at his heaviness.

“Katsuki!” You scold, but it’s shrouded in laughter, an absolute contrast of how you just were talking all of ten seconds ago.

“Now you can’t leave,” he says, cockily. “You wake me again and I will kill you.”

“You woke me up just now! You could’ve easily come to bed like any sane person!”

“….”

“Katsuki!”

“Cant hear you, I’m asleep.”

“KATSUKI!”

[obscure-imagines]

wet dreams - Zoro

🍃staring. Zoro Roronoa x afab!Reader

⚔️ preview. The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, wet dreams, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, praise, exhibitionism (sex outside in the Crowsnest), cum play/swallowing, fingering, mutual masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick zoro, fingering, overstim, mutual orgasm, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

🔫 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.7k

⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, pwp, acquaintances to lovers, etc…

🍀 mlist + an. I showed Sanji and Mihawk some love so I figured I might as well adore my big three and make it a full set with Zoro.

Zoro is exhausted. His body feels heavy as he lumbers around the ship, his footfalls a little too loud on the wooden deck. His eyes are practically shutting on their own, but he resists the need to nap.

He's been having problems lately... when he sleeps.

While he's able to keep himself mostly in check around you during his waking hours, his mind - and body - have been betraying him in dreamland.

He's woken up five nights this week with the soft sounds of your moans etched into his memory and his pants ruined with the sticky truth about his feelings for you.

Naps had once been a time of rest, but Zoro has been anything but restful since Luffy convinced you to join the crew two weeks ago.

Zoro hates feeling like he's not in control. He hates the way you seem so real in his mind's eye, only for him to wake up and watch you acting completely indifferently toward him- as if he didn't just watch you go down on his cock in explicit detail- as if he didn't just try to fuck you so hard you couldn't even walk-

Being around you is something like torture. His tongue gets tied, his heart races, and he's unable to hold a conversation with you about anything unrelated to piracy... and even then, he stumbles over his words and gets frustrated with himself.

You're just too beautiful.

The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

He does his best to be the last to go to bed, out of fear that someone will walk in while he's sleeping and hear his problem, hell, he wouldn't be shocked if they could even see it.

It's not even midday and Zoro feels like death. It doesn't help that it's hot out. The wind feels practically nonexistent. Everything is stale, sweaty, and full of tension. Even Sanji, who usually dresses in formalwear, has stripped himself of his button-up, opting for an undershirt instead.

Then there's you. Your shorts don't leave much to the imagination, and Zoro has to tear his gaze off of you every time you get within his line of sight. His cock is practically throbbing in his pants anytime you're nearby- anytime your soft scent lingers in the air when you walk past.

"You look like shit."

Zoro sighs at Sanji's words, refusing to look at the chef who's come to lean on the rail next to him, staring out at the sea.

"I mean it. And I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously moss head, you look like you need some rest," Sanji presses on. "When was the last time you had one of your famous Roronoa naps?"

"I wasn't aware they were famous," Zoro sighs, this conversation is making him even more tired.

"We all know you get a little scratchy without your beauty sleep," Sanji smirks. "Go on, get some rest. It's a shit day, and it will be even more shit if you're in a bad mood. I'll wake you up for dinner."

Usually, Zoro wouldn't do anything Sanji suggests, he wouldn't even entertain it- but the idea of a nap is having a visceral effect on him. He's reminded of the exhaustion that's overtaken him, and the harsh sun is only making things worse.

Zoro lets out a deep breath. "I guess I could use a little shut-eye."

You let out a loud whimper as Zoro drags his tongue across your neck, holding you close on the deck of the ship. Above, the stars are twinkling, but to the swordsman, all that matters is you. He can hardly see anything else, his mind completely blank except for the feeling of your hand stroking his cock.

"I need more," you tell him, applying just the right amount of pressure.

He's tried dissuading you from sucking his cock, but you're absolutely insatiable for him. Stroking isn't enough, and the promise of filling you up all nice and snug doesn't satisfy you either- no, you want him in your mouth, and you're very verbal about it.

Who is Zoro to deny you?

With a sigh, he agrees, and you sink to your knees immediately.

God, you look beautiful like this.

Your thumb strokes the head of his cock, rubbing through precum as you bring your mouth closer.

You're always a bit of a tease, licking at him gently, pumping his shaft. Zoro can't help but release a small groan, eyes fixed on you, waiting.

When you finally take him into your mouth, Zoro moans, his head lolling back as he enjoys the feeling.

"That's it, angel," he tells you, reaching down to grab at your head, helping you find a rhythm. "Just like that."

You take him so deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat much too easily. The feeling of you choking around him has Zoro's abdomen clenching, and a familiar sensation is growing in his balls-

It's as if you can read his mind, your hand snaking up to massage his most sensitive area while you continue practically gagging yourself on his cock.

The sound is absolutely obscene, and Zoro's never heard anything so pretty.

"If you keep sucking like that, I'm going to cum," he warns you, wanting to hold out to finish in your perfect, needy little cunt-

The way you suck on him even harder makes Zoro think you want him to cum. You want him to release down your throat, want to swallow him up like the good girl you are.

Again, who is Zoro to deny you?

"Fuck, angel," he groans, orgasm rising even faster. "You're always so good for me."

You whimper loudly around his cock, stroking your tongue along the vein that runs the underside of his length while squeezing his balls, and that's all it takes for him to cum.

He lets out a grunt as he shoots his load down your awaiting throat, his brows knitted together in concentration and something close to overstimulation. He whispers your name, over and over like a mantra while you suck him dry, eager for every single drop he can give- you're his greedy little angel, and he loves you with every fiber of his being.

You pull off of him when he's done, staring up at him with eyes that reflect the stars above. Then, you stick out your tongue, proving to him that you'd swallowed all he had to give.

Zoro can't help but reach for you, lifting you back onto your feet so he can grab your face and press his lips against yours eagerly.

He treasures the moments you're in his arms, and there's something so satisfying about the salty taste on your tongue-

"Dinner!"

Zoro sits up so fast he nearly falls out of his hammock. His heart is thundering in his chest, and when his eyes quickly dart to the door, he sees that Sanji hadn't bothered to enter, only called out a word of warning.

Swallowing thickly, Zoro looks down at his pants. He can feel his cum, hot and sticky against his skin, his half-chubbed length angrily confined by pants.

Zoro's not sure who's more upset about being woken up from his dream, himself, or his cock.

Luffy has already gone through half the food by the time Zoro saunters into the dining area. The swordsman's eyes are downcast while he takes a seat next to the captain, and you're kind of glad for that- you want to watch him, but you doubt you'd be able to make eye contact with him right now.

Your skin tingles with the forbidden knowledge that you now have. Your mind keeps replaying the scene you'd walked in on not half an hour ago; Zoro, asleep, his brows knitted together, your name on his lips.

You hadn't stayed long upon finding him in that state, your skin too hot with the realization of what you'd just witnessed, and now, that fevered sensation returns.

You've always had a bit of a crush on Zoro, but you'd never in your wildest dreams imagined that it could be returned. Out of everyone on the ship, Zoro interacts with you the least. He practically avoids you, and you've just spent two weeks thinking he doesn't even like you-

No, this changes everything.

The man with green hair lifts his gaze, and your eyes meet momentarily, only for you to look away, skin flaring again. Your heart is practically beating out of your ribcage, and you can feel your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core.

You'll have to do something about this. You're not sure what- but... you definitely can't go much longer with this kind of unresolved tension. One dinner with a dripping pussy is enough.

You decide you'll have to confront Zoro, and something tells you that you'll thank God for doing so.

Once everyone is asleep, you slowly tiptoe out of the sleeping quarters. Zoro has been staying up late, keeping watch in the Crowsnest, and you feel like that's a perfect place to talk with him. There's no way he can escape... unless he jumps into the ocean and risks his life- but you don't think it will come to that... or at least, you hope it doesn't.

Carefully climbing the ladder, you think of all the things you can say to him. You're not sure where to even begin, and as you make it to the top, poking your head through the manhole to stare at Zoro's broad shoulders, all the words you'd planned slip your mind.

He hasn't noticed you yet, and it takes closing the ladder cover for him to finally hear you, whipping around with his hand reaching for one of his blades.

Zoro freezes. You both do.

Then his hand drops to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought..." you bite at your lip, "I thought you might want some company."

He gives you a quick once over, then turns to look out at the sea again. "I'm good."

"Why do you act like you hate me so much?" you sigh, ignoring his dismissal and moving to join him.

"I don't act like I hate you."

"You hardly talk to me."

"I'm not a big talker."

You let out another exasperated sigh. There's some truth in what he's just said. "Then I'll talk."

"Go ahead."

Staring out at the sea, you're once again at a loss for what to say. After a few moments of silence, you decide to just... put it all on the table. "I walked in while you were napping earlier."

Zoro goes rigid next to you.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He's quiet, then he turns to look at you. "Sword fighting."

"I didn't think you'd actually lie to me," you frown.

"Who says I'm lying?"

"I just- I don't think sword fighting would lead to you moaning my name over and over."

Zoro looks out at the sea again. "You must think I'm some kind of pervert."

"Trust me, I don't," you assure him. "I'm kind of curious about what we were doing in your dream."

He sneaks a glance at you, and there's a hint of a smile that curls onto his pretty lips. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Maybe... maybe I've been having 'sword fighting' dreams too. We could... compare notes, or something."

Zoro lets out a laugh, shaking his head. The chuckle dies down into a groan. "Fuck." He grips the railing tighter, taking a deep breath. "You really wanna know what we were doing in my dream?"

"Yes, please."

The swordsman turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were down on your knees, sucking the fucking soul out of my cock."

If your panties hadn't been ruined at dinner, they're definitely ruined now. "I was?"

"Uh huh. You were begging for it. Begging for every last drop."

Your mouth practically waters at the idea. "And did you give it to me?"

"Of course I did," he says softly, scanning your face. "How could I not?"

"Should we..." Your skin heats at the words about to come out of your mouth, "Can we make that dream real?"

Zoro sucks in a shaky breath. "I think I have a better idea."

"A better idea than me sucking your cock?" You're shocked.

"You're always so good to me in my dreams, maybe I want to be good to you."

Your pussy throbs at the insinuation of what he's saying. Most men would jump at the chance to have your mouth around them, but it looks like tonight, the swordsman wants to be the one pleasuring you-

He's just like the Zoro from your wet dreams, and you have a suspicion that when it gets down to it, he'll be even better.

You can't help yourself any longer, you practically launch your body at him, throwing your arms around his strong shoulders while his hands catch you. Your lips meet as if it's the most natural thing in the world, a soft groan escaping him when you swipe your tongue across his mouth, already eager for entrance.

The kiss deepens, and his hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush to his chest. It feels absolutely insane to be actually doing this in your waking hours- nothing your mind could conjure up compares to the real Zoro-

You can feel his cock already pressing against your hip and it makes you whine loudly, shoving your hand between your bodies to cup him through his pants. He's as big as you imagined he would be, and your pussy flutters with interest.

"Zoro-" you whimper, already needing more.

You've been waiting too long for this, for him-

He groans. "Say that again."

One of his hands joins yours between your bodies, but his slips under the waistband of your shorts, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties.

"Fuck, angel, you're already soaked-"

"Zoro!" you moan, louder this time.

"Tell me you want my fingers."

"God, I need them," you gasp when he leans in, pressing kisses and tracing his tongue along your throat. "I need you inside of me- any of you, I just- I need you!"

"Good girl," he says smoothly, pushing your panties to the side.

His fingers make contact with your dripping cunt, and he teases your pussy lips, just dipping inside enough to coat his skin before he circles your clit.

You cry out, squeezing his cock harder-

"Enough of that," Zoro practically slaps your hand away from him. "Tonight is about you. Let it be about you."

"Fuck, you're too nice to me-"

"Trust me, you deserve it." His fingers sink into your pussy and you moan loudly, leaning forward to begin peppering his own throat in kisses. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he begins pumping his digits in and out of your wet core.

You can already hear yourself- the sick squelching of your pussy as he works you open. His palm rubs against your clit, creating a delightful pressure that has your legs shaking and your toes curling.

"You sound so pretty."

Who knew he'd be such a sweet talker.

In the exhibitionistic privacy of the Crowsnest, with the crew sleeping soundly below, Zoro is showing you his true colors, and you couldn't be happier.

No one has touched you like this in too long- but then again, has anyone ever actually touched you like this?

You can't believe how close you already are to cumming. Your skin tingles and you moan louder against his neck, moving your mouth up to suckle on his earlobe.

Zoro groans, and the sound goes straight to your aching core.

"Close already?"

All you can manage is a nod, your eyes closing as you focus on the pleasure of his fingers pumping into your wet hole. "Please-"

"You can cum for me," he tells you. "I wanna hear it."

You can hardly even stand on your own. If it weren't for his strong form, steady under your grip, you're sure you'd be falling. His free palm is on the small of your back, keeping you snug to his front while his fingers work you closer and closer-

"Zoro," you whimper again, feeling tears in your eyes from how tight the coil in your stomach has grown.

"Be a good girl and let go for me. Come on, I know you can do it."

You let out a strangled half sob as your high slams into you. Your entire body tingles with electric energy as your core clamps onto his fingers, which continue inside of you, working you through your orgasm. You shake against him, digging your nails into his shoulders while you whimper and moan, lips pressed to his throat.

"That's it," he praises you, a steady guide through one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

You nearly black out, only for his fingers to slow inside of you, drawing you back into your body. Zoro removes his hand from your pants, and you listen to him suck his digits clean, letting out a small groan at your taste.

"Can I lay you down?" he asks next, tone gentle.

You nod, unable to speak. Zoro softly helps you onto the wooden floor of the small Crowsnest, staring at you with dark eyes that seem to sparkle in the moonlight.

He slowly undresses you, watching as you lift your hips to help him remove your shorts. Your shirt and bra are next, and he's careful to set them nearby before removing his own clothing.

"You still want to do this?" he asks.

"There's nothing I want more."

Once he's naked, Zoro gets between your thighs, holding himself over you while you wrap your legs around his hips. You grab at his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

His hard cock is too enticing for you not to touch, and soon, you're gripping it while your tongues battle. His moans are music to your ears, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his length to smear his skin with precum.

"You know-" he swallows thickly. "After today, after watching you cum on my fingers, I might not last that long."

"That's okay, I won't last long either." Your pussy is already aching for him again, and from the way his cock twitches in your hand, you know he's as into this as you are. "Just fuck me Zoro, please."

He kisses you deeply, allowing you to guide him to your wet hole.

He's big, but you're soaked, and slipping into you is much too easy. He sinks all the way in, his hips flush to yours when he bottoms out. You moan into each other's mouths, and you grab his face, wanting to keep his lips on yours as he begins to thrust into you.

"Fuck, Zoro, it's so good-" you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around him to earn another sound of appreciation.

"Angel, you're fucking perfect," he agrees, pace already quickening.

The sound of skin on skin fills the night air. You open your eyes, looking up at the moon and stars. It feels natural to be with him like this, under the watchful eye of the heavens-

Your nails dig into his shoulders when his hand adjusts your thigh on his hip. He drives deeper into your wet hole, and each thrust has your head spinning.

You can feel him everywhere, and it's the first time you've ever really felt full, complete.

"Zoro," you whisper, gaining his attention as you draw his lips back to your own.

You get lost in him. His cock is filling you perfectly, and his lips feel like they were made to be on your own.

That familiar tightening in your lower abdomen builds much too fast, and each thrust has Zoro grunting and moaning even louder-

"Fuck, angel, I'm close-"

"Me too," you assure him, pressing your forehead to his own and staring into his eyes. "You'll cum with me, right?"

He can only nod as you slip your hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit-

Your core tightens even more around his thick length and Zoro lets out a deep moan-

"Shit," he mutters, "where should I cum?"

"Inside," you insist. "Cum inside, I'm on birth control, please, I want it, I need it-"

Zoro's hand balls into a fist on the wooden plank by your head, and he groans. "Can't wait-"

"Me neither," you whisper, eyes closing as the feeling ravages your body, "Cumming-"

Zoro buries his face against your throat as you both reach your highs. You can feel him painting your inner walls, making you even more full than you already are with his cock- it's the most delightful feeling.

Your toes curl as he fucks you through it all, his pace even harder than before, if not a bit erratic. The sounds he's making will be something you never forget, and you cling to him like a lifeline, tracing his muscular shoulders and gasping-

It's as if your orgasm lasts ages, and when Zoro's motions finally begin to slow, it's hard to even catch your breath.

He begins to press kisses along your throat again, working his way to your ear, and then your mouth.

You can't help but grin into each soft press of his lips against your own.

"You look happy," he muses.

"That's because I am. Are you happy?"

"Very."

Your smile widens. "So we're done not talking and pretending to be indifferent to each other, right?"

"Completely done."

"Good, because I don't think I could go back to that."

"Me neither," he admits.

"I like you a lot."

Zoro presses another soft kiss to your lips, his pretty eyes twinkling with emotion in a way you've never seen from the swordsman. "I like you too."

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you liked this, check out my fics for Sanji and Mihawk :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here

© obscure-imagines — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[meownotgood]

WEEK ONE — masturbation + aki hayakawa, 18+, gn!reader, jerking off, pillow humping, sexual fantasies, edging, a hint of degradation, aki just can't help his feelings for you

kinktober masterlist

Everyone knows Aki has a crush on you. 

It's as obvious as it could possibly be. He's always staring, always coming up with any excuse he can to slip away from work for a while and come talk to you. He leaves frequent gifts on your work desk: notes in his handwriting, flowers or snacks or souvenirs he got for you from Hokkaido. 

He's unusually awkward when your name gets brought up in conversation, he's jittery whenever you're around — The last time you tagged along on the division's monthly drinking night, Aki was practically a mess, choosing to drown himself in as much alcohol as he had the pocket change to order, simply to keep from losing it because you'd sat next to him. Of course you had to sit right next to him. 

You've kept him infatuated for forever now. The thing is, Aki doesn't care if he's obvious. You're so pretty, he thinks. He's thought so from the very beginning. You're pretty and interesting and smart and it isn't his fault; he really can't control how his heart flutters and his head goes dizzy every time you talk to him, it just happens. You just have that effect on him. 

He can't help but feel shy every time you call his name in that sweet voice of yours; so polite, sticking to Hayakawa-sir even though he's told you before that you can use his first name. You grin every time, and you explain, But you get embarrassed when I call you Hayakawa. He can't help it when his face turns red all the way to the tips of his ears because you're teasing him, giving him a hard time for how stuttery he's getting. 

You were particularly teasing today. Aki knew you must've been in a good mood from the moment he arrived at headquarters. You held him by his arm, you cooed praises into his ear for how hard he's been working lately. Told him if he ever needed a break, he could come to your office any time he wants to and you'd give him a massage or make him some coffee. You insist. 

Maybe that's why he can't sleep right now. 

He's tried to get some sleep this time, he seriously has. He hates when he's like this. When he finds he's unable to stop thinking about you, he'll try everything he can to wind down and make himself forget. He'll go for a run to try and get his energy out, take an ice cold shower, smoke until his lungs are burning to attempt to quell the noise in his mind, and yet tonight, none of that has worked. 

Nothing can chase away those thoughts of you, those memories of your pretty face and your teasing hands. Nothing convinces his heart to stop pounding within his chest. Aki tosses, turns. His sheets rustle and his mattress shifts underneath his weight. 

It's a real conundrum. He's felt hot all over ever since he climbed into bed. His face is warm, he's practically sweating. Turning again, he takes a quick glance at his alarm clock, the screen reads 11:54 which is several hours since he first attempted to sleep and a few minutes since he last checked it. 

You were touching him so much today. So much, more than he's used to, even for you. No-one else ever touches him like that, nobody ever hugs him, holds his hand, makes him feel wanted. He wonders if you know how worked up you get him, if you can tell his heart is racing, or know the reason why he's shifting is because his slacks are getting tight. 

11:56, now. Aki's head is spinning. 

This is stupid, wrong of him, even. He's not super close to you. You're just one of the Public Safety office workers. If he wants to be technical, he could be considered your superior, actually. A superior fantasizing about one of the little devil hunter assistants. He's terrible. 

Aki can't help but yearn to feel your touch elsewhere, everywhere. He needs it, needs you, warmth buds in his core and there's a steady ache between his legs. He was short on breath before, when you'd grabbed his arm and pressed real close, and even now, just from thinking about it, he's — 

Fuck. Aki twists, rolling from his side onto his back, he rubs his knotted up temple with his finger and his thumb. It's too much. You're going to be the death of him. 

His breath comes out heavy and shaking and loud in his ears. His chest rises up and down, his trembling fingers slip under the blanket, then underneath the waistband of his sweats, and his heart begins to pound faster in anticipation, hammering against his ribs.

He hesitates for a second. In the end, he gives in like he always does. Shame pools thick in the pit of his stomach, but it isn't enough to stop him from working his hand down — His palm brushes the soft fabric of his briefs, he gropes the shape of his cock through his boxers and he's already stiff. He sighs, he lets his head toss back. 

You'll forgive him for this, right? You'd forgive him for getting hard when all you did was barely touch him, and for using thoughts of you to get himself off, wouldn't you? He's just so lonely, so stressed out, that's all this is. You have to forgive him, you have to understand. Aki swiftly decides you would, because he can't wait any longer; he's been needy like this for hours upon hours now and at this point, it's far too late for him to stop. 

Aki pushes the blanket away, he tugs his sweats and his briefs down to his thighs at the same time, he hisses when his cock comes free. Slowly, he wraps his palm around, and he brings his thumb to the head, rubs it slow, feels himself throb steadily in his hand. 

He's already dripping, precum beads in droplets at his slit and dribbles down to dirty his knuckles, each of his fingers. There's wetness sticking to his palm. A disgusting sound echoes as he pumps himself, up and down nice and careful, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. 

It feels so fucking good. Aki groans in pleasure, immediately forgets how perverted this is, he closes his eyes, thinks of you. He isn't the type to do this, he's never felt this way about anyone, he doesn't even touch himself because he's never had a reason to — but you've changed everything. 

You're the reason for this, and when he's got his cock in his fist, you're all he can think about. He imagines your touch, your voice, your warm breath on his skin. Aki tries to picture how it'd feel to kiss you, to press his lips on yours and have your tongue in his mouth. How it'd feel to hold you, to have you be the one to jerk him off. 

Your hands are so perfect; Aki's memorized the way they look, the way they fold when you're writing or grabbing his arm or holding your drink. They're dainty compared to his, they'd probably feel softer, so much gentler. Ever since a few weeks ago, he's fallen into the habit of using his left hand to touch himself as opposed to his right. It's clumsier this way, but it's easier to imagine his hand is someone else's, yours. 

Your soft hand around his dick, stroking him just like this — Aki doesn't know if he'd be able to last. If he'd even be able to look at you, let alone talk, let alone do anything but plead your name.

Your fingers are so pretty, you'd complimented him once, Aki remembers how you sat next to him and intently watched him sign paperwork like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He'd shaken his head and written you off then, but he wants to know if you'd compliment him again, if you'd still think so when his fingers are cradling your face or pushing past your lips. 

Would you still think he's as pretty — his fingers wrapped around his cock, his hair down and how you like it, his earrings you say you like so much glinting in the low light — if you saw him like this? 

He wonders if you'd tease him the same as you do at the office. Oh, Mister Hayakawa, you've been wanting this for so long, haven't you? You're so fucking dirty. How long have you been jerking yourself off every night to the thought of me? So damn needy, you just want me to take care of you, huh? 

Yeah, he's dirty, he's rocking his hips into his grip, he's whining and sighing soft gasps of pleasure, louder than he probably should be. He's pumping his fist faster as he pictures your face down between his legs; you'd look precious with your hair tucked back, your lips would feel as plush as he'd imagined and you'd stare up at him with such an innocent expression, your eyes practically sparkling as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He can't take it. Aki pants with weight behind every breath, he twists his wrist and squeezes, pumps even faster and thinks he just might lose his mind right here — and then, he takes his hand away. 

He lets go, his dick falls against his stomach and he keeps one hand in his hair and the other beside him, despite how badly his nerves are screaming for him to keep touching. He allows his breath to even out, stares at the ceiling and waits for his mind to clear.

He doesn't want to cum yet. Not when it's only been a few minutes. If he cums now, he'll probably get too exhausted to cum a second time. So he can't, not right now, not when he has more he wants to think about. 

Twisting over on his side, Aki brushes his bangs away when they fall messily around his face. He presses his palm to his forehead, feeling the sweat trickling from his skin. His fingers twitch. He debates what he's about to do for a few seconds.

He shouldn't, it'll be a hassle. But when he knows how good it's going to feel, he can't resist. Hurrying, he lifts his head and grabs his pillow from underneath, he adjusts, burying his face in the sheets when it starts to feel warmer. He situates himself on his stomach, pillow firm between his legs. 

Deep, slow rolls of his hips cause him to forget any of the sense he was still holding onto. He exhales hard, shakes even harder. Aki fists the sheets in a tight hand, he leans his head into his forearm, he grinds his aching cock against his pillow until his thighs are beginning to hurt.

If he was more confident, confident enough to tell you how he feels, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe if you knew, you'd let him fold you over his bed and fuck you just like how he's been dreaming of, slowly and dizzyingly tender, enough to make him forget about everything else. Maybe. If he's good. God, does he even deserve it? 

Either way, it doesn't matter what he wants. He'll do whatever the hell you ask him to, whatever you'd be willing to give him he'd be happy with — He'd be content just fucking the space between your thighs, or having you talk to him while he gets himself off and humps his pillow like a pathetic idiot; anything you want, whatever you want. As long as you're there, as long as he can hear your voice and feel your touch, and not be so alone. 

The smooth cotton of his pillowcase is slick and wet with his precum. His cock is throbbing incessantly, pleasure spreads through his entire body and he doesn't care that his mattress is squeaking, that he's losing rhythm. He breathes heavy with every rut of his hips and imagines you're here, you're beneath him. 

Arms strung around him tight, you'd lock eyes with him and he wouldn't dare to look away. Feels so good, you're perfect, Aki, you'd praise, and he loves your praises, You wanna cum? Oh, but you can hold out for a little longer for me, can't you? 

Aki shivers. Of course. If you're the one asking him, he just has to. Especially when you call him Aki.

Aki, that's it, keep going. You're so sweet, so good for me. I belong to you. I'm all yours, forever and ever. Does that make you happy?

You're his, all his. You'd sound so perfect moaning his name as he bullies his cock into you. His first name, his and no-one else's, no extra politeness or honorifics. You'd say it softly as he slides inside, say it when you're begging him to fill you deeper, repeat it when you're telling him he's got to beg for you if he wants to finish. 

C'mon, Aki. Cum for me. Give me all of it. 

Yeah, Aki mumbles out loud to himself, his voice is breaking, he thrusts his hips with reckless abandon, I'll give you everything, oh, f-fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum… 

He shoves his face into the bed as much as he can manage to muffle his noise, his fragile moans and loud whimpers. His shoulders tense, muscles aching. A few more shallow movements and he's done; he chants your name over and over again as he finishes, cumming all over his pillow and his sheets, thick ropes of white dirtying the fabric, making a mess. 

Falling limp, Aki lays like that for a while, catching his breath. Everything begins to fade, working through to tiredness. He should get up and shower, wash his sheets and his pillowcase, but he's so exhausted he can't even manage to move. 

He feels warm all over again, just less intense this time. Aki realizes he was saying your name as he came. Embarrassing. He can only hope he wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear. 

He'll fall asleep now, at least, with warm thoughts of you to fill his head. A date with you would be nice sometime. Nothing too crazy. He'd take you anywhere you wanted to. He also wouldn't mind taking you back to his apartment and making you something for dinner, whatever you'd like. 

If you were here now, he'd hold you as close as he can get you, breathing soft and slow while drifting off silently, his arms wrapped secure around your waist.

He's almost asleep. But —

Ah. He'd forgotten he has to work at the office tomorrow. So he's going to have to face you, first thing in the morning. 

The next time he sees you, he doubts he'll be able to do much talking. But he'll get busier soon, there's a lot of devil hunting missions coming up. Who knows when Aki is going to see you next, so if he doesn't tell you his feelings soon, when will he? 

He's decided. Tomorrow, he's going to ask you out. 

[omniuravity]

Hazbin Hotel Characters During Rut/Mating Season

Okay, I love rut/mating season fics so much that I made headcanons. These are mostly based on actual animal biology, so I tried my best.

Tags: @bloodypeachblog, @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered, @pinkhimecat, @je-suis-eternel-jennie

TW: Sex (obviously), animalistic behavior, way too much research, creature cocks (kind of), mention of pregnancy, Alastor having sex despite him being asexual, Valentino is his own warning

Husk:

Husk does his best to keep his urges under control, especially in public. If Alastor caught wind of it, he would be tormented to hell and back. However, he does tend to be a bit more grumpy in public to hide it.

He tends to drink a bit more during this period just to help fight these urges and to keep them hidden from others.

He is also extremely protective, especially around Alastor. Other men don't bother him as much, but he absolutely despises Al getting even close to you when you are HIS mate after all.

To combat this, Husk makes sure to mark you with his scent every chance he gets. Even if he doesn't want Al to know he's feeling this way, he wants Alastor to know that you are his.

He is also a bit more adventurous in bed than normal. Typically, he prefers to keep things pretty vanilla, but due to his urges he does become a bit more possessive.

"What? Just want to try somethin' new. Maybe, make a few kittens while we're at it."

Sir Pentious:

Pentious can't hide most things well, let alone his need to mate with you. When he's not in his room, he is spending all hours of the day near you or talking about you. Though, other residents of the hotel find that pretty normal.

He also likes cuddling with you a lot during the early days of his mating season. Occasionally, letting his tongue flick against your cheek like a little kiss.

Though typically only female cobras build nests for their eggs (even if he can't impregnate you with his eggs like that), he will try and make one for you as a gesture of his love.

As for the sex aspect, you will definitely need to help him out. He does have two dicks, but he does not know how to use them.

He is a very sweet partner during his mating season, making sure you're comfortable every step of the way, even if he's a bit unsure of what to do.

"I've never had a mate thisss time of year before, but would you consssider making a nessst with me?"

Valentino:

Anyone who is "lucky" enough to be Val's partner during this time of year is in for a wild ride. Though his mating cycle is much shorter, he is much more intense than any other man you will ever be with.

Val is constantly making sure you smell like him both in and out of the tower. He wants everybody to know who you belong to. His aphrodisiac is so much stronger during this period as well.

He is also super overprotective. If another man so much as glances at you, Val will "have him fired". Which is code for, "I'm gonna fucking shoot him, so he doesn't look at my mate's face again."

Val's emotions are at an all time high during mating season, "for his future larvae" he says, but it's really an excuse to be more of an asshole to everyone except for his precious mate.

Val just adores seeing you filled with his cum. Even when it's spilling out of you he'll just finger it back in. Couldn't have you losing a single drop of his precious seed.

"Don't worry, chiquita, Daddy's home. Now I hope you're ready for me, because it's going to be a long night for the both of us."

Alastor:

Alastor's rut is practically unbearable, especially without a partner. However, this year, he has you by his side.

Alastor isn't really one for spoiling his partners, but he wants to make you feel happy and loved during this time. He'll buy you new clothes (after ripping off the ones you had), food, and cute little trinkets to remind you of him.

He is very aggressive around men. Lucifer, especially, though any man that crosses your path and so much as looks in your direction can set him off.

Alastor also doesn't normally entertain his sexual impulses. Of course, he'd do it for you, but typically, the most you'll get are a round or two if he feels like it. During his rut, he just let's himself go and fucks you until neither of you can move anymore.

He enjoys a little game of cat and mouse before having sex with you. It makes him feel powerful and feeds into his animalistic instincts.

"This has been an entertaining game, my dear, but you can't hide forever. You know I'll find you, one way or another. And when I do...well, I believe it'll leave you...breathless."

Lucifer:

Lucifer's ruts have been unbearable lately. It has been seven years since he's had a partner to indulge in them with, but now he has you.

Lucifer is all for spoiling his mate. Mainly shiny things or anything that catches your eye. He likes decorating your shared bedroom with the things he finds for you.

He isn't nearly as aggressive as Alastor during his rut. However, he is very protective of you. He barely lets you do anything on your own out of the risk of you hurting yourself.

He's the type of guy to start coming up with baby names as soon as his rut starts, just in case.

Normally, Lucifer is very mindful during sex knowing every spot that makes you feel good. During his rut, he loses his control and makes sure to find those spots every single time while marking your body as his. He, of course, apologizes profusely after.

"I'm sorry, birdie. I just can't control myself when I'm around you, especially this time of year. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you later."

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the End - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - You set up a wonderful maze for these trapped mice

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader, self harm, injuries

Masterlist

Pateron, KoFi, and Throne

A/N: If you want chapters early then check out my Pateron or KoFi

It wasn't difficult to form a plan in your mind. First you'd draw some blood, the thing that led them to you in the first place. You'd make them go around in circles until they landed themselves in different traps along the way. And while they acted like mice in a maze you would observe as the scientist making notes.

You made a clean cut into the palm of your hand and winced at the bite of the blade. It was sharper than you thought and cut a bit deeper than you wanted. You sucked in a breath before you smeared some blood onto a tree.

You wandered your forest for what had to be at least two hours, clouds had gathered and had dimmed out the sun. It was a forewarning of snow to come and the wind had already started to pick up. You had made a very intricate maze for them, misled by your own blood no less.

Finally you began your long walk home, you pulled your coat tighter around you and stuffed your barely scabbed over hands into your pockets as the wind blew harder. Soon enough the snow would start to fall and they'd either have to try and find their way out of the forest, hunker down for the night and loose your foot prints or keep going through the snow and darkness.

Your omega purred at the idea of the warmest surviving all of this. Oddly, you found the idea of one of them, maybe even two, surviving just to be able to breed you oddly romantic. Instead of giving up or dying, they pushed through just to have you. A small rumble started in your chest as you thought back to the two brown eyed ones.

"Fucking hell," Ghost mumbled to himself, his ankle was twisted oddly and his ass hurt from the fall. Worse? The sky had started to shit out snow. They (Soap and Price) had the most genius plan of splitting up to try and find the omega. Ghost had caught onto her scent and followed it.

Followed it right into a bloody trap. It was at least 12 feet deep if he couldn't even touch the top while jumping and he could jump if he wanted to. He was stuck in a hole, with no idea on how to get out without help and he wasn't going to try and shout for it. God only knows how far away the rest are.

Fuck his head hurt like a bitch. He had to give the omega credit. She had set up her forest to be a fortress and a death trap. Pits, tripwires, all kinds of little tricks hidden away. Each step he had taken made him hold his breath.

He had heard a loud BOOM some miles away and very, very distantly Scottish yelling. Maybe he had gotten off lightly with a twisted ankle and was stuck in a pit for a while. Still, his inner alpha whined knowing his fellow packmates were likely in danger. His base urges didn't even care about the omega when his pack was getting hurt. He couldn't help but wonder how Price was doing.

Price was stuck upside down. He had caught a glimpse of the omega, who had turned her head towards him and wore a frankly smug look. He had tried to order her over but she stuck her fingers in her ears and walked away. All of the blood flow was ending up in his head and it made him feel sick. Worst? His knife had fallen out.

It laid on the snowy ground and mocked him. This was the fuckin' worst. Maybe he should have just let the omega be but that thought made his own alpha stir and snarl. This felt like some bizarre courtship ritual but instead of blankets and food it was surviving the omegas own traps.

If what he heard a while back from Soap was anything to go by, his Scottish sergeant was not having a walk in the park either. It sounded like an explosion and he hoped it wasn't very damaging.

He glanced over when he heard someone approach and Gaz emerged. "She has running in fucking circles Cap."

[moonstruckme]

hii!! i love ur blog lol. i saw ur requests were open and i thought maybe id send one in! no pressure at all to do it, thank you for writing what you write (it’s really comforting!) i was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with a reader who is overworking herself for exams/college stuff and is hiding from her boyfriends because she knows they’ll be stern with her and make her take a break? so she tries to evade them but they foil her evil little plan lol. maybe like dom!remus… i’m obsessed w him.. just an idea!!!! have an amazing day 🩷

Thanks for requesting, hope you have an amazing day too!

cw: d/s dynamics to be found if you want them to be, mostly they're just bossy

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 814 words

There are nice voices seeping into your consciousness. Soft, comforting. You snuggle into the gentleness of their familiar hum. 

Something moves from underneath your face. You start to open your eyes, slow and reluctant, and when the something is gone your face lands in a warm palm. It feels safe, easy enough to settle into, but as you’re about to let yourself slip away again it strokes its thumb over your cheek. 

“Angel.” James’ voice sounds almost like he’s trying not to laugh. He thumbs your cheek again. “Angel, hey.” A pause. “She doesn’t seem to want to wake up.” 

“She’s awake,” Sirius says. You feel his hand sweep across your shoulder blades. “Come on, sweetness. This is no place to spend the night.” 

You make a disgruntled, whiny sound you’d never allow in full consciousness. Your eyes peel open. 

“There she is.” Sirius rubs your back encouragingly.

You blink blearily in the sickening fluorescent light of the library. James is squatting at face-level in front of you, his expression somewhere between fond and pitying, while Remus stands behind him with your backpack over his shoulder. You can see Sirius peering down at you in your periphery, his hand still moving over your back as though to keep you from falling back asleep. 

There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. It must be late. 

“Oh, no,” you groan, forcing yourself up. Your neck and back crackle as you straighten, making James cringe. 

“I agree,” Sirius says smoothly. “I too would be devastated if I traded a warm and cozy bed with my loving boyfriends for a hard, cold desk. But don’t be embarrassed, there’s still time to make things right.” 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to rub wakefulness into them. “I…where’s my laptop?” 

“I have it,” says Remus. 

“I need it.” 

“You’ll get it back tomorrow.” 

A slow, heavy anxiety laces your bloodstream. “But I have to finish…” 

“Dove.” Remus’ voice is stern, though not unkind. “You have to sleep first. At home.”

You blink, your brain still lagging. “But…” 

“Sweetheart, c’mere.” James takes your face in his hand, angling you towards him. He brushes his thumb over the corners of your eyes, then smiles at you. “There. Sorry, you had crusties. Ready to go?” 

“I…” 

“Let’s go, babe.” Sirius winds an arm around your waist, hauling you up with him. “It’s definitely bedtime.” 

James chuckles. “Seems like it. Poor love.” 

“What about my stuff?” 

“I’ve got it, dove,” Remus reminds you. He frowns. “When was the last time you slept?” 

You think back. “Last night.” Was it really only last night? It feels eons ago. 

“But for how long?” 

“Uh…” you wince. “I dunno, a couple hours.” 

James makes a low pitying sound, and Remus’ frown worsens. On some level, you know you’d known they would react like this. Probably, you’d even known they were right. It was why you’d been spending as little time at home as possible, catching twenty-minute power naps in library chairs and avoiding your boyfriends. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus sounds tired himself, and guilt sprouts behind your ribcage, “you can’t run yourself ragged like this. It’s not sustainable. It’s not going to help with your schoolwork, and it’s awful for you besides. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You heave a sigh. “I guess I just like living on the edge,” you grumble sardonically. 

Sirius huffs a laugh. He slots a piece of hair behind your ear. “Hey, recklessness is my thing,” he says, kissing your temple. “You need to get your own thing.” 

“Sorry.” 

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Remus chides. “You’ve tried your way, and it’s clearly not working. Right?” 

You’re silent. Then Sirius pinches your side, and you squeak, “Right.” 

“Good girl.” Remus’ tone warms some with amusement. “So we’re going to go home, and you’re going to sleep at least eight hours. Then, after you eat and drink something, you can have your laptop back. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You want to be more reluctant, but the allure of your boyfriends’ evil scheme is too tempting to resist. You don’t have the energy to fight them on it. “Thanks for coming to get me.” 

Remus holds the door open for you all to exit the library. As you pass, he cups your cheek with a small smile. “You’re welcome, dovey.” 

“And maybe during this next round of studying, you could take a break from time to time,” James suggests lightly. “I haven’t had a proper cuddle in days.” 

“Oi!” Sirius’ chin nearly smacks the side of your head as he whips around to see James. “What would you call what we did this afternoon?” 

“Not a proper cuddle. Your elbow has probably left a permanent indent in my stomach.” 

“There are people who would pay for a souvenir like that, Jamie.”

[pastryfication]

Can you please do Oscar x reader, who's birthday is coming up but she doesn't want to celebrate or acknowledge it?

I'm that way. My birthday is on the 30th. 🥺

happy birthday!!! i hope you have an amazing day, love xx

this is my gift to you ❤️🥳

birthday celebrations | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

content warnings: oscar being the perfect boyfriend.

you wake up to the soft light filtering through the curtains, the warmth of your blanket cocooning you against the world outside.

you snuggle deeper into the bed, just wanting to hide. today is your birthday, a day you’ve dreaded for as long as you can remember. birthdays have never been your thing—too much fuss, too many expectations. you’d rather it pass like any other day, quiet and unremarkable. but your boyfriend has other plans.

you hear the faint clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. curiosity piques, and you pull yourself out of bed, padding softly to the source of the noise.

and there he is, oscar, standing by the stove, a look of concentration on his face as he prepares your favorite breakfast—fluffy pancakes with strawberries and jam. he turns, catching sight of you, and his face lights up with a smile that melts your reluctance just a little.

“happy birthday, love,” he says, coming over to kiss your forehead. you try to protest, to remind him that you don’t want a big deal made out of today, but he hushes you gently.

“just a simple breakfast,” he insists, guiding you to the table.

breakfast is a cozy affair, the two of you sitting close together at the small kitchen table. the pancakes are perfect, made exactly like you love them, and the berries are sweet and fresh. oscar keeps the conversation light, steering clear of any mention of birthdays or celebrations. he knows you too well, and it makes your heart swell with gratitude.

after breakfast, oscar insists on a lazy morning. he pulls you back to bed, rewrapping you in a cocoon of blankets and his arms. the two of you spend hours cuddling, watching your favorite shows, and simply enjoying each other's company. his constant attention and gentle touches make you feel cherished, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, birthdays aren't so bad when spent like this.

the day slowly unfolds in a series of small, thoughtful gestures. oscar dotes on you, bringing you tea while you read and stealing kisses when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. he suggests a walk in the park, knowing how much you love the feel of the sun on your face and the rustle of leaves underfoot, and you walk hand in hand through your favourite park.

as the evening approaches, you start to worry about what he might have planned. you’ve made it clear you don’t want a party, and oscar has always respected your wishes, but birthdays make you wary. he sees the tension in your shoulders and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“i know you don’t want a big celebration,” he murmurs into your ear, “but i thought a quiet dinner with a few of your closest friends might be nice. just us, no fuss.”

you turn to face him, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. all you see is his genuine desire to make you happy, and it softens your resolve. you nod, agreeing to the dinner, trusting that he’ll keep it simple.

when your friends arrive, the atmosphere is warm and intimate, just as oscar promised. there’s no grand entrance nor any loud singing, just the comfort of familiar faces and easy conversation. you find yourself relaxing, enjoying the evening more than you expected. the dinner is delicious, the laughter infectious. you catch oscar’s eye across the table, and he gives you a wink that makes your heart flutter.

as the night winds down, and your friends start to leave, you realize that today hasn’t been so bad. in fact, it’s been kind of wonderful. oscar walks you to bed, his hand in yours, and you snuggle into his side, feeling a contentment you hadn’t anticipated.

“thank you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“for what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“for making today special,” you reply, “without making it too much.”

he smiles, pulling you closer. “anything for you, my love.”

and as you drift off to sleep, you think that maybe, just maybe, birthdays aren’t so terrible after all.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

House Husband! Simon who…

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sexual Punishment (Consensual), Degrading, Edging, Simon Exhibiting Some Himbo Tendencies, Objectification of a Military Man, Implied Pegging, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Lets you take the stresses of your day out on him, riding him with such fervour that he’s left digging his heels into the mattress of your shared bed, gritting his teeth and trying not to let the coil in his stomach snap before you’ve gotten yourself off.

Secretly loves being berated, being called your “Stupid boy, only good for cooking and cleaning. Such a good husband for me.”

Loves when you spoil him with the lavish gifts you can afford with your high-paying job. “A reward for keeping the house so tidy while I’m away.” You say as you take the cologne bottle in your hand and pull the waistband of his boxers with the other, slipping the bottle past before letting the band snap against his skin. You make sure to give his ass a good smack on your way past, too.

Another symbol of your ownership of him to complement the wedding band you’ve bound him with.

He’ll bend himself backwards to please you, learning to cook anything that takes your fancy, giving you massages when you need them, using his height and strength to clean the house thoroughly, pulling out all the furniture and making sure the place is spotless.

Though, he’d never admit that he sometimes leaves certain things — laundry, dishes, whatever — unfinished so you’ll punish him when you come home.

Loves when you edge him, using him for your own pleasure while preventing him from feeling the fullest extent of his. He lives for the tears in your eyes when you cum for the third time, rocking yourself on his thick cock as he holds you by the hips, desperately trying not to rut into you and give you another reason to stave off his orgasm.

When you think he’s earned it, you’ll make sure he really feels it. Squeezing around him with such ferocity that has him seeing stars when he finally does unravel, thick ropes of cum shooting into you as his back arches, his low, strangled moans filling your home. He’ll pant heavily, trying to gather his bearings as you detach from him, thin strings of cum trying desperately to keep the two of you connected.

He shudders at the tone in your voice when you throw a towel and a pair of pants at him, telling him to clean himself up and go and make dinner.

“I expect it done within the hour. I’m starving.”

Needless to say, he considers burning it a little to incur your wrath once more. But he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that that parcel you ordered the other day did look rather long. Thin, too. Almost dick-shaped.

He’s taken a peek. He knows he shouldn’t have, but now he knows he mustn’t – under any circumstances – get on the wrong side of your strap-on. Especially one so girthy and long; big enough to even wind Simon if when you slammed into him with it.

But that’s a punishment for another day.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Right Answer

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: What you need is a road trip with your crush, aka your older brother’s best friend, to get your mind off your problems and stress. When he goes to get gas, a woman shows up and starts to flirt with Bucky, causing you to be jealous. How do you show Bucky that you want him without actually telling him that?

Squares Filled: road trip (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

It’s been one of those days. Your brother is out of town with his girlfriend so you have the house to yourself, but you hate being alone. You hear every creak the house makes, you think someone is watching you, and you hate sleeping inside an empty house. He’s only been gone for a week but he still has two more weeks before he’s back from vacation. He made his best friend promise to look after you while he’s gone but he’s been over once since he left.

Not that you minded much. You have a major crush on Bucky but the last thing you’re going to do is tell him that. You’re eight years younger than him and Steve, so you’re afraid all he’ll ever see you as is his best friend’s little sister. You and Bucky have a good relationship since he’s always over to hang with Steve, but you two rarely hang out together. You might have the opportunity now since Steve is gone, but you’re having such a bad day that you’re not sure Bucky will be able to cheer you up.

However, it would be nice to hang with Bucky after the shitty day you’ve had at work. You pace the empty living room silently with your phone in your hand, debating whether or not you should call Bucky. It would be nice to talk about your day with someone. You dial Bucky’s number before you can talk yourself out of it and put the phone to your ear.

He doesn’t let it ring past the second one.

“Hey, Doll,” he drawls.

“Hey. Are you busy?”

“I’m free for you.” Your cheeks heat up and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to go for a drive? I need out of this house.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

Bucky is there in ten. He even shows up with flowers in hand which make the butterflies double in size. After putting them in water, you two get in the sleek black muscle car that he loves so much. He has always wanted a 1970 Chevy Camaro and was only able to get his hands on a convertible. He doesn’t use it much unless you’re in the car with him because he knows how much you love the wind in your hair.

You tie your hair in a low ponytail to keep it down, and he puts the top down before pulling out of your driveway. There are plenty of backroads to avoid traffic which Bucky takes instead of the main highway.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he asks after ten minutes into the drive.

“I think my boss wants to fire me or wants me to quit. He’s been cutting my hours and taking responsibility away from me even though I’m working my ass off for him. I work harder than everyone else and put in more hours than everyone, and he still treats me this way. I don’t want to quit because I finally do something in my field. I’m a good photographer but he either doesn’t see it or doesn’t like me.”

“You’re one of the best photographers I know.”

“I’m the only photographer I know,” you chuckle.

“Still. I’ve seen your work. You’re natural talent. I think I might want pictures of this car.”

This causes you to laugh at the thought of Bucky with pictures of his car hanging on his walls. He doesn’t have a girlfriend to hang so may as well hang his car. Bucky looks over at you and admires the smile on your face. He loves seeing you smile.

“I like seeing you smile.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks and you look away while trying to hide your smile. Stop. He’s your older brother’s best friend. He is nearly a decade older than you. He’s just trying to be nice. Whatever he’s doing is working. It’s getting your mind off your shitty day. Bucky continues to drive for another hour with the wind in your hair and music blasting through the speakers.

“Hey, I have to stop at the gas station.”

“Sure,” you nod.

Bucky pulls into the closest gas station and gets out while you stay seated. You pull out your phone and begin browsing your social media. The gas tank is on your side so Bucky walks around the car and starts filling her up.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Oh, I do?” you chuckle and look up at him.

“Yeah. I know for a fact that you haven’t eaten anything all day so I know you’re hungry. If you don’t get food in you now, you’ll be cranky and wake up with a stomach ache. Now, do you want taquitos or hot dogs?”

What…? How does he know that? The only two things you eat from a gas station are taquitos or hot dogs. The pizza always tastes like cardboard, and you don’t want to dine on junk food all the time.

“Taquitos.”

“Be right back.”

Bucky goes inside the gas station and returns two minutes later with some blue Powerade and three taquitos. The pump is still going so he leans back and crosses his arms while waiting for the gas pump to stop.

“Hey, nice car.”

You look over your phone and see a skinny blonde woman walk up to Bucky with flirty eyes.

“Thanks.”

“Makes sense you would own something like that. Fitting for your type.”

His type? Who the hell does she think she is? She doesn’t know Bucky.

“My type? What type would that be?”

“Gym rat, maybe a motorcycle driver, always wanting to show off what he has, but loyal to the ones he loves. Am I getting close?” she smiles.

“Yeah, you are.”

Bucky shifts his weight to his other foot which you take for him being uncomfortable. He puts his hand on top of the window and since the top is still down, you can easily grab it if you want to. Grab it. Show her that he’s yours. Bucky isn’t yours. He only sees you as a little sister. Suddenly, you’re not so hungry. The little green monster known as jealousy sits on your shoulder even though you have no reason to be jealous. Bucky isn't yours and he would never go for you.

Still, you can’t help but reach up and grab his hand. You don’t have to look at Bucky to know he’s smirking.

“So, look, I’m free this Friday and you’re very cute. Want to do something with me? Get to know each other?” she boldly asks.

You squeeze his hand instinctively and he moves his hands in further to grip your hand more. She hasn’t looked in the car since arriving otherwise she’d see you sitting there.

“Sorry, but I gotta go. My girl’s in the car.”

You take your hand away from Bucky as he turns to the pump that has stopped. The woman finally looks at you but you can’t meet her eyes. She nods and walks off without saying a word, and Bucky gets back behind the wheel. You can’t seem to look at him because not only do you have a bunch of butterflies, but you’re kind of embarrassed. You didn’t mean to take him from what you’re sure was a heartfelt moment but you don’t want to think about Bucky with anyone but you.

Does that make you selfish? Maybe.

He pulls out of the gas station and returns to the back roads to get home. The ride is silent for the first ten minutes before Bucky turns the music down.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?”

“Talk about what?”

“You really playing dumb now?”

“What? That woman clearly wanted in your pants. There’s nothing to talk about it.”

“Oh no, there’s clearly something to talk about.”

Bucky reaches over and grabs your hand before pulling it into his lap. You try to yank it away but he has a strong grip on your hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Just take me home.”

“Whatever you say, Doll.”

The rest of the ride is spent in complete silence. As soon as Bucky parks the car in front of your house, you’re bolting out of it. Bucky is quicker than you are so he chases after you to the front of the house. You shove the key inside the lock and twist it, pushing the door open to get inside before he can get to you. Luck is not on your side, unfortunately, and he pushes his way in before you can close the door.

“Where are you going, Doll? We’re talking about this.”

“For the hundredth time, there’s nothing to talk about. She was clearly annoying you. I was just trying to save you.”

Bucky keeps the door open and walks you backward into the wall.

“Nope, you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“What truth is there to tell?”

“You were jealous,” he smirks.

“What?! No, I wasn’t.”

“Wrong answer. You didn’t want me going out with her.”

“No. You can do whatever you want.”

“Wrong answer.” Bucky presses you more into the wall and puts his hand on it right next to your head, caging you in. “I’m gonna ask you one more time. Were you jealous?”

“Please, if the roles were reversed, you would have been fine,” you scoff.

You try to ignore how hard your heart is beating or how sweaty your palms get.

“No, I wouldn’t have. Every guy who touches you, talks to you, or looks at you makes me rage. So, no I wouldn’t have been okay. I would’ve been jealous, and I would’ve been able to tell you that.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. You might be Steve’s little sister but you’re more than that to me. I don’t give just anyone rides in my car, and I hate the top being down but I do it because you love it. So, were you jealous?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Right answer,” he smirks.

He closes the distance between you two and kisses you, and he slides his fingers through your hair. This is the moment that changes everything. Everything you’ve ever wanted is right here kissing you, and there’s no way you’re gonna let him go now.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[marilynslove]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ · . boyfriend rafe hcs <33 (sweetheart-ish edition !!)

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who literally can't keep his hands off you : whether it be at parties with his arm slithered around your waist, fingers absent mindedly drawing shapes on the skin of your arm while taking a sip of his beer - trying his best not to roll his eyes as topper rambled about sarah. or when it's just the two of you at home, cuddled up on the couch while watching a cheesy romcom you'd somehow managed to get him to watch - or at least pretend to watch. but, who was he to turn down an opportunity to hold you close? why leave you be when he could be there, running his fingers through your hair n gently rubbing your thigh?

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who's constantly giving you attitude : "baby, does this look cute?" you mumble, holding out a denim mini skirt you'd grabbed from a shelf - it's material slightly washed out. looking up from his phone, he sighed a little. "i don't know, does it?" shooting him a dirty look, you huff. "'m serious, yes or no? please?" ".. yes - it looks good, bunny. now can we go? been waiting for ya to pick out all the clothes you want for hours." with a pleased smile and a quick peck on his cheek you nod. "thirty minutes, actually."

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who's literally the dryest fucking texter ever : like, this bitch will leave you on delivered for hours. even when he does respond his words are vague. on some "ok" "gm/gn" "👍" type shit. but he makes up for it by calling you throughout the day - asking if you're okay, what you have planned, if you wanted to come over. and honestly? you can't complain, not when his voice sounds so .. !! 's better than any text he could send. or most, at least.

౨ৎ - bf!rafe who loves to take you on late night motorcycle rides : he lives for it, might be one of his favorite things to do with you. with the way your arms tighten around his torso when he drives faster - your scoldings being lost in the sound of the wind, earning a quiet chuckle from him. he knows you love it though, the thrill, the adrenaline. though he loves the rush, he also savors those moments of tranquility - when he's taking in everything. the feeling of your warmth against him, a stark contrast to the night's cold air against him. or the sounds of the ocean's waves washing up against the sand as you drive by, the saltiness of the water lingering in the air. and even though he dreads the end of the night, he can't help but melt into the kiss you give him before you sneak back into your house.

[osamucide]

gladly

gladly i’ll burn up for you if you burn up for me

NSFW—MINORS DNI

wc: 1.2k

cw: dazai x gn!reader, explicit sexual content, no plot just horny and fluffy, established relationship, somno(?)(sleepy, anyway), handjob, grinding, nipple play, use of “baby,” “darling,” pillow princess dazai my most beloved

reid: this position bruh i’m going to go so feral that i eat my own hand. not the smut i intended to publish next but apparently the smut i needed to publish next. a little something short while i put off a longer dazai smut. i <3 soft lazy dazai enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

You know mornings like this should be rarer than they are.

His charming insistence, however muted by his sleep-addled laziness, hardly ever fails on you. In fact, it all might make him more tempting—that, the warmth of newly recharged bodies, the honey behind his drooping eyelids, the wandering of his hands and rolling of his hips against yours that feels so sweetly and foreignly unmapped and confused, yes, it’s equal parts all those things and you’re sure some others that you can’t conjure up into words through your early-hour fog. Yes, very few things Osamu ever does without meticulous planning, but he does let a certain vulnerability crack through on mornings like this, a vulnerability that’s evident in between his parting lips and the soft, unpracticed whines that live and die there. And yes, you’re one of the primary reasons—if not the primary reason—Osamu’s so often late to show up to work, but it’s difficult for you to feel guilty when your senses find their way back to the waking realm amongst his pretty sounds rumbling from his chest into your ear, his back arching back against your touch, and his soft brown hair splayed around his head like a halo.

The rational side of you should be dragging your dear boyfriend up and out of bed but it appears to still be asleep as you let your fingertips creep beneath his waistband. You shut the morning light out in favor of pressing your eyes beneath his collarbone; your thumb finds his tip, and if you weren't on the threshold of consciousness you would let out a giggle at the way his breath catches. You can feel Osamu's fingers curling tenderly around your wrist—a silent plea for you to keep going, touch him more, and you'll oblige, but you have to kiss the triangle of his shoulder first, so you do; your tongue deftly finds his nipple, and he's so pliant half-beneath you that you can slot his thigh between both of your own—it’s all you'll need, you can tell, as his head dips to the side on the pillow to catch a half-lidded glimpse of you working him into a mess so early and so easily. He'll return the favor without even trying, just by laying there and letting you move the way you do; he's so gorgeous all bleary from slumber, palming your lower back to guide you against him. You move. You move, looking up at him like he’s an angel, and his vision melts to warm darkness again. It's all he'll need, too.

You’d think he was falling back asleep if it wasn’t for the slow and steady bucking of his hips up into your hand. Winding your fingers around his base elicits a whine from his diaphragm—one you can hear against him as your own eyes roll shut and your tongue continues to idle. It’s all so natural, the way you stroke him, lick him, grind on him, that you feel yourself slipping back into unconsciousness. It’s his noises that you hang on for.

He’s far from alert, but words tumble out in whispers.

“Baby, it feels so good, don’t stop…”

You hum, more in response to his mumblings and less from the friction you create against his thigh; nonetheless, you’re sensitive, and as you keep rhythm along his cock he flexes against you and the way that you feel, splitting the line of slumber and wakefulness and writhing hotly against your lover, is divine.

You wish you could live in this kind of moment for the rest of your life. Too often you find yourself overwhelmed; regrettably and even more often you find Osamu overwhelmed. It’s never so obvious to anyone as it is to you, so he doesn’t tend to let on to anyone but you, and maybe that’s why you keep things like this sacred, because for once he doesn’t seem to be thinking, analyzing, inquiring, even how he does when you regularly have sex—forever the pleaser, he’s always looking to you with eyes asking questions like is it enough? Even outside of sex, god, in every aspect—you know he never stops wondering the same thing about himself: is it enough? Does it feel good? Am I enough? And the answer you give him is always a resounding yes, and you want so badly for him to believe you because he’s just as much your angel as you are his. You hope that mornings like this communicate it louder than your reassurances can. Your pleasure—in everything, in life—is so vividly amplified by his wellness, his peace, his own pleasure. You love him so deeply. He loves you like a stray cat finally living in comfort. You’ll never let a morning like this slip.

“Right there, right there,” he encourages as you squeeze just below his tip; his head lolls from side to side almost as if he’s dreaming (sometimes he thinks he is with you) and you track his movements through your own bliss, dragging your hips back and forth desperately as you double down on the spot that forces full-bodied moans from his pretty mouth. He’s close, he begs you; you’re frantic on his thigh, feeling yourself cum in a haze that has him tensing—you grind harder, harder, harder, sighing out his name until you’re spent so you can prop yourself up on your elbow to watch his face in the thickly-curtained sunlight.

“Oh, fuck, fuck— fuhhh— ah, uh-huh, ah—”

His eyes flicker open to catch your tired smile and he’s cumming—his grip on your ass is the only thing grounding him as his jaw falls slack, your lashes flutter in pure satisfaction, and he twitches, sent to the clouds by his beloved who looks at him with such adoration that he catches himself believing for a second that he must be beautiful; you work incredible magic on him. His brain and his body, both so used to neglect and abuse, finally feel like fruitful grounds for love. He finally feels whole as his cum drips down your fingers.

It is then that you do giggle and lean down to place a quick kiss to his nipple; he’s breathless, pink in the face, and you know you couldn’t love him more, and yet you will as each second passes.

Osamu brings his hand up to your hair, and your next kiss lands on his lips as he wills you down. It’s tender and lasts much longer than expected—you almost start your hips against him again, but the snoozed alarm at your bedside rings for the fourth time. You glance over. He was supposed to be out the door five minutes ago.

“Oh, shut it off,” he groans resentfully.

“As if.” You press one more kiss to his cheek before you unpeel yourself from him and punch the ringer into silence. “I’ll put coffee on.”

“Shower with me before I go, please.” He rubs his eyes and sits up. You strip out of your sticky shorts.

“Of course, darling.”

You pad to the kitchen. He watches you go with a warmth he didn’t know himself to be capable of.

And a smirk.

Maybe he can talk you into one more round in the bathroom.