#DAMN WHATS HE SO LOUD FOR TF

[insomniacirl]

...

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 BIG BOOOYS!

☆ sum. it's cuffin’ seasooon, and now you’ve got a reasooon to get…stuffed? toji, sukuna, choso, geto, nanami, gojo.

warnings. fem! reader, BIG BOYSSSS like the sza skit song, unprotected, manhandling, dad bods (toji / nanami), size kinks, tf! sukuna, boxer! geto, spīt, full nelson, mating press, dp (sukuna), overstim, dirty talk, praise, marathons, p spanks, hair pulling, breedīng, this got kinda … long LOL sry.

an. will t*mblr let me post thisss …. ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO.

“honey,” nanami warmly purrs, his body weight hovering right over yours. you’re met with the most softhearted eyes, watching cloudy puffy pants leave his mouth. you’d just rode nanami for countless hours nonstop, and with ruffled blond strands sticking to his face, he looked oh so feral for you. your eyes rover down toward his abdomen - so plump ‘n round, and you felt yourself throb the more you gawked at the vertical strip of his blond happy trail that ran down his chest. “hah- you want me to . . fold you like a chair? that sounds kind of painful, no?”

“ken, ‘s okay,” you reassure him, a hand sensually rubbing down his cushiony soft-padded abs. nanami was as soft as an oversized teddy bear, and he was always gentle with you during intimacy. you moan, feeling his split reddish tip gently smear a sloppy slope down your sopping entrance before he pauses to let you finish speaking. “y.. you can be a little rough. i can take it.”

nanami combs a hand through his hair before a coy simper tug at both corners of his thin pink lips. “okay, if that’s what my pretty wife wants- then. .” and you let off a jittery whimper once you feel his big hands start to gingerly shove both of your knees to your chest. his touch was forevermore tender, and nanami hoarsely groans as he watches your limbs gradually extend back. “i’ll . . stretch you,” he grumbles, a sandy brow of his furrowing once he starts to align his leaky cockhead once more. you’re throbbing, salivating from the mouth once the pointed crowns of your knees meet against your bare squishy breasts. leaning in, nanami’s just a few sultry centimeters apart before he sensually licks near your bottom lip. “hold onto me, sweetheart. ‘s gonna get a bit . . bumpy.”

once you’re laid flat on your back, nanami’s tubby tummy hovers over your entire frame. murky huffs of air shoot past his lips once he grabs ahold of your wobbly ankles. you’d already had your pretty laced panties shoved to the side, and oh how soaked you were. “naughty girl,” he huskily grunts, casually starting to rub his wedding ring against your folds. slow. . romantic strokes were all you felt. it lasts for a long few seconds, and he’s just smearing the frigid cold band of the ring around your bawling cunt before he finally gets to the real thing.

nanami grabs ahold of your legs—softly shoving them further into your chest. they meet against your bouncy tits and you moan, feeling the plump head of his cock greet your slobbering cunt with wet, slimy kisses of its own. the noises . . they were so damn loud, and you were already throbbing the more he teased you from just his full-sized tip alone. “ngh, ‘ken. don’t tease me. f.. fuck me,” you whine, another moan leaving from your parted lips the second he’s fully enclosed between your legs. you’re met with his rounded tummy that’s sooo perfect ‘n plump, and nanami’s just inches apart from the button of your nose. time stands still once he finishes aligning his thick cock, unhurriedly inserting himself inside.

oh fuck-

those same two words that ripped out of your whiny larynx repeated past your lips right as he started to ease his way inside. it didn’t take him long to quickly bottom out—and you were folded up like a chair. “s- sooo gorgeous for me,” he lowly groans, blond brows crimping together in needy want. your brief tightness that only lasts for a good three seconds makes nanami suck his teeth. so … damn … good, once he bottoms out all the way, you then hear the bubbly resounding ‘pop!’ that alerted you both that he was fit reaaaal nice ‘n snug. “god, the things you do to me, sweetheart.”

nanami tended to ramble mid-fuck, just spouting a bunch of nonsense against the shell of your ear. with barred, bare hands, he’s making sure your legs stay at the folded position you’re at. his cock’s just so fat though, and your eyes were almost cartoonish—widening like saucers at the precise moment he curves his way through that exact pathway of your cunt that makes you squeal. nanami’s sculptured hips drill into you ferociously, and his body that pounded on top of you after each impactful stroke was just so soft. you’d never get over it—he was like an actual plushie teddy bear.

sluggish arms of yours wrap around him, filling his entire ear canal with your continuous whimpers before he groans. “kento, fuuuckk- fuck!” you’d moan, feeling the bed frailly dip from both pounds of jerking weight.

pap after pap after pap, nanami’s stuffing you full with each mouth-watering inch, and your pussy constantly decided to torture you with its dramatic spasms and fluttering. filled to the very hilt, nanami’s making sure your insides got every single part of him.

he’s groaning, trying his hardest not to crush you with his weight. every few seconds, he’d cup your face with two sweaty palms before slowing down with a timid cunt-drunk grin. whispering out a shaky, “hah- you okay, sweetheart? ‘m not crushin’ my sweet girl, am i?” he’d lovingly caress a thumb across your face, acting as if he wasn’t currently fucking you stupid.

“ ‘m okay,” you’d breathlessly croon out in a sweet throaty tune, almost as if your sweet moans were high notes. nanami was hitting you deep, and with a sloppy pivot of his hips, the angle got even deeper. you’re filling up the four paper-thin walls of the bedroom with your trilling whines, purely engulfed by his loud manly musk. your cunt’s already starting to soak with dewy globs of your juices, even dribbling down your folds and oh it’s comin’ . .

“ken, kentoo—oooh!”

nanami felt his dick twitch inside of you at your dragged-out moan of his name.. but - it wasn’t just a moan—it was a pretty, elongated orgasm that caught you by surprise. his blushing tip was messily kissing your pulsating g-spot, circling all around it while casually feeding your grippy, wet walls. you clung onto him tight with your arms and also your insides. before you knew it though, your high was slowly but surely creepin’ up on you.

“i know- i knowww,” he murmured out of breath, and you could feel him starting to slow down. nanami’s rickety hips were passionate. they were steady, and as you were creaming down his weighty shaft, he planted a kiss on your temple. “thaaat’s it, let go. ‘m right here, kento’s here. i’ll clean you right up, sweetheart.”

his words warmed their way into the key of your heart . . slowly traveling between your legs also to make you throb. you’re whimpering the same repeated chant of his name as your arms were now wrapped around his sweat-glossed waist. nanami chuckles into your neck, and he can feel your arms pull his plump body closer. “mhmm, touch my body all you want, honey,” and you moan, feeling him release the grip on your numb legs. nanami brings his wedding ring toward your teary cunt after he pulled out, giving it one more loving rub. “ ‘m all yours,” he kisses near your lips. “always.”

✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYOMEN.

“keh, you make me laugh, woman,” sukuna grouses, slouching back against his notorious throne as you straddle him. eager ‘n all, you try to align yourself and he grabs your hips firmly with a smug scoff. “you can barely handle one, what makes you think you can handle both of me, hm?”

“ ‘kuna, don’t tease me,” you huff, and he hums once he sees the frustration marinating across your face. cute, sukuna knew you didn’t like being teased but he still enjoyed getting underneath your skin. after all, you were his favorite, and maybe just for tonight . . he’d oblige with your carnal desire to get double stuffed. sukuna folds two of hefty arms behind his broad neck, his other arms occupied by gripping your waist. oh, he looked so priggish. a wolffish grin remains plastered on his lips as he watches you wrap a hand around one of his cocks. they were fuckin’ big, both stacked on top of each other and you moan. “stop lookin’ at me like that.”

sukuna snickers. “heh. my apologies, little one. i’ll look away while you struggle, i guess,” and a fang pops underneath his sinister curled lips once your wet entrances start to slowly kiss against his tips. you’re weeping wet, and you moan with your other arm abruptly tossing around his broad shoulders. you felt your heart’s irregular beats pick up whilst you’re perfectly aligned with both of his thick twinned cocks. with a squelching ‘pop!’ the first one starts to delve inside of your cunt, driving its way past the loose ring of your dripping entrance. “fuuuck, atta girl.” sukuna gravelly grunts, his smugness starting to falter just a bit. as he’s bottoming out, his grip on your hips tighten more. your warmth catches him by surprise—but once you’re taking in his second cock, he smacks together his lips in awe. pink slit brows of his form together into a vexed arch once he growls.

“ ‘s fuckin’ big,” you moan, slightly turning your head to stare at your grinding perked ass. as a few seconds pass, you’re starting to writhe your ass against his lap. successfully, both fat cocks were filled inside each of your gummy orifices. the concise feeling of tightness makes you mewl, feeling sukuna’s overgrown nails gently dig into the plush flesh of your ass cheek. “god, so full ‘kuna, fuuuuck,” you continue to babble, and you already could feel your fluttering tummy starting to giggle with hoards of impatient butterflies. you can’t help but part your lips into a cute ‘o’, nearly drooling once he spanks your ass — his way of encouraging you to ride him faster.

sukuna’s big, and it’s not even about both of his lengthy dicks anymore. he’s a demon, an unruly one that could probably crush you if he wanted. but no . . he had a soft spot for you, an even more softer spot for your sweet, weak pussy. as he sits back against the creaking throne, you gulp, taking in just how big he is compared to you. bloody, ruddy eyes bore back into you as he started to break a cold sweat. “hng, good,” he groans, and you watch as his head gradually starts to fall back.

oh- you’ve got him whipped. once you started up your rocky pace, it was game over.

each towering cock plummets into both of your holes filthy, and the repeated dampened sloshes of your cunt resounded through the walls of his echoey domain. over and over and over. your rhythm starts to get more and more hectic as you progress—and you’re whimpering, continuously feeling one of his swollen tip’s french kiss near your pretty puckering rim. the other one’s messily making out with your g-spot, rudely thrashing its way against that same pulsating target like it was a dart aiming straight for the bullseye. “o- ohhh, fuck. ‘kuna, ‘m not gonna last, ohmygodddd.”

you’re just so full…too full- and before you knew it, you could already feeling your legs preparing to violently snap.

mewling out a sweet, exaggerated ‘oh!’, you end up spraying out a pretty streaming geyser right between your legs. your glossed lips quiver as your awaited high finally comes, whining as you try to continue to swerve your weak hips in gradual arcs. it felt so so good, being plugged full with each of his girthy cocks. fuck, it felt too good that you could almost taste your sudden overwhelming releases on your tastebuds. “fuck, fuuuck,” you whine out in tiny puffs of air, glancing back through fuzzy peripherals to stare back at your ass. honed, sharp fingernails bury into the fat of your bouncy flesh and sukuna snarls at the tasteful friction. “ ‘s good, ‘kuna, ngh!”

“h- heh,” the curse jibes, but even he’s starting to slow down. as your rhythm starts to finally come to a slowing stop, you sheathe your head near his broad chest. sukuna holds you close, quietly snickering at the size difference. you—a mere human, straddling him. it was almost laughable. “you humans are so weak . . so fragile,” he huskily groans, leaning in to pierce his fangs into your neck softly. as if marking his territory, sukuna then licks a stripe up your neck. you’re still stuffed to the very brim, and that’s when he makes you sit up straight. with a disapproving tsk, sukuna crosses all of his arms with a pout like he’s judging you. “cunt’s still too weak though.”

you’re just a babbling mess, the pit of your tummy was in knots as it's still taking in both thickset cursed lengths. from your quavery thighs, it’s a shimmering sap of your precious slick that slithers down between the sprawled crevices of your legs. it’s pretty - and sukuna can’t help but swipe a fat thumb down, getting a taste all for himself. “mhm,” he brings his finger up to his wry compressed lips, savoring your fresh flavor on his spiked tongue. you’re still trying to recollect breaths when the demon softly grabs your chin, boring his cold, scarlet eyes right into yours. “open.”

an overgrown black nail gives the corner of your lips a soft tap and compliantly, you pry open your mouth. sukuna leans in before . . spat! he spits right on the flatness of your pink tongue, hearing you lewdly moan in response. with your flapping lashes nearly blinding your entire view, you could spot that same wolfish grin from an early start to creep against his lips one final time.

“how filthy. my good girl,” and you moan yet again, feeling him press a hand against your tummy — a wee reminder of how stuffed you currently were. “let’s try that again. this time though, i’ll let you ride my stomach tongue, heh.”

✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“kinkiest shit i’ve ever heard you say, mama,” toji guffaws as his tense shoulders bounce up and down. you couldn’t help but notice the way toji was slowly growing a dad bod, especially after the two of you had another child. he’s still in good shape—and he continued to maintain his usual workouts but fuck, you’d always fawn over his cute round tummy. he’s like a bear, shaggy, chunky, and incredibly soft. every time he’d pound on top of you, his weight would gingerly press into you, rubbing back ‘n forth against your body and you’d just wrap your arms around him. “full nelson, eh? you sure this isn’t the baby fever talkin’ again?”

“tojiii,” you pout, and you watch as he groans the moment you’re aligning yourself on his maddened cream-covered tip. it’s fat - leaking from the top with buttery white droplets of pre. toji reclines back against the couch that sucks his heavy body in as his legs start to spread. once he gets comfy, he looks at you with a sly grin while zeroing his verdant eyes all over your body. “ ‘m sure, i want it,” and you playfully start to run a palm down his bushy hairy chest, stopping at his cute rounded tummy. “want you.”

toji lets out a smoky chortle before pinching a grip near your ass. “alriiight, babygirl. but ‘m not gonna go easy. better hold on tight.”

and oh- toji and full nelson was a deadly combo within itself.

saying he had you stuffed to the max was purely an understatement. one minute you’re on his lap and the next, he’s got you pressed up against his woolly chest with his burly arms pinned up underneath your legs. he’s fucking you silly, plummeting such thick inches inside of your hungry cunt that it makes you see stars. not just stars but the whole damn galaxy. “f- fuuuck, fuck!” you’d gasp, feeling your cunt eagerly twitch at his sudden elastic-like stretch.

toji was strong, and he had no problem lifting you. each time he did, you’d bounce back on his lap, getting stuffed with even more mighty inches of his dick. it’s so wide, he’s merrily caressing through your gummy inner walls before rudely smacking his flushed crownhead against your tender needy cervix. that spot right there makes you shriek, and you can hear toji’s husky laughter from behind the shell of your ear.

“heh- yeah, baby. let me fuckin’ hear ya, take this . . hah, dick like a champ—fuuuck,” and he groans, a single smack of your ass making him briefly bite the inside of his hollow cheek. it’s a lot of weight that’s jerking back against him from you, and toji’s heaving breaths start to get heavier the more your cunt swallows him in wholly..

his virility was unmatched, and toji gave your pretty pussy addictively mean slams until it was squelching out his name. all syllables of it too—

you were loud, especially between your legs which were always toji’s favorite part. “t- tojiii,” you’d whine out his name again, continuously feeling that same caving dip arises near the middle part of your tummy. he’s in so deep, and your back remains to rub against his furry-covered chest. toji’s plump belly was so soft behind you, and the saltiness that started to coat your buds from your incoming release was almost too much to bare. “harder, f- fuck me. ooh! that spot, that f- fuckin’ sp—”

“if i wanted to hear my wife speak i’d ask her talkative pussy instead,” toji grunts, and you let off a bleating whine the second your bare wet cunt’s met with a spank. slap! and the entire sound makes your folds twitch. you moaned, desperately wanting him to do it again. not just once or twice—hell, even thrice. you ached for more of toji’s touch, and he knew that. he knew his wife. you watch as his scarred lips form into a smile, and he spanks your pussy again. “mhm, kinky girl. that turns you on, yeah? ‘course it does. bet if i fuckin’ spat on it you’d go crazy too, hm?”

“tojiii-‘m-gonna-cum,” you whimper out in a quick single second, trying to talk over his rant. you were a bobble head toy, bouncin’ up and down his fat cock. his long girthy inches had you hungry - slobbering from the mouth like a dog for more as he filled you to the very fuckin’ brim. easily, toji’s invading all through your spongy cunt with his thick thighs resting underneath you. your nails cling to his skin like velcro with your mewling whines only pitching louder. “tojiiiii, gonna cu— fuuuck!”

“yeah, i know baby,” he grunts, feeling his balls starting to tighten. toji’s head throws back at the sharp slams of your hips. each time you fall back into his vast lap, his guttural voice drops even deeper. every time it does—you end up throbbing. a cute ‘lil pulse that he always pokes fun at you for. “heh- there’s that cute throb, she’s so fuckin’ needy,” and as your pussy’s squelches cry out even louder, toji growls. “fuck. gonna milk me, s- so good, ‘s that what y’er tryna do?” and you moan, feeling the pad of his thumb ghost down your throat. “want me ‘ta make you a pretty mommy again?”

a whiny, “y-yesss,” slurs out from your glossed lips, and toji snickers. of course. you wanted him to fill you all the way up like always. plug the top until your cunt was just flooded with his hot thick ropes of cum.

and that’s just what he does—toji lets out a gruff groan once he feels himself reaching his limit. with his hips nudging quicker, he grunts at the final punctuating thrust. “f- fuck, take it then. take it like a hah- good girl,” and toji’s plush body underneath you starts to rumble. finally, your legs collapse down from the position they were in once he’s starting to paint the pasty walls of your cunt his whitish color. it’s a lot, ribbons of slick cum that splatter its way throughout the layout of your mottled-covered entrance. “shit,” he swears against your neck, growing quiet to hear the sloppy sounds.

you start to ooze between your thighs, and you moan once toji lifts your leg once more. the bush that glues against his chest hair continued to tickle against your back before you whine. “mhn, atta fuckin’ girl,” he huffs, smearing a thumb down your cunt that’s spitting out any remnants of his gooey seed. it’s hot, drooling down the cracks of your folds that he ends up giving your pussy one more final spank.

“heh, best we start thinkin’ of names again then,” and he nips a soft bite near your ear. “mommy.”

✩ ˛˚ . SATORU GOJO.

he’s the strongest, which also means the strongest in bed.

and satoru’s favorite thing to do was to have you being fucked senseless with your legs gracefully thrown over your head. you’d tease him constantly, saying how since he’s ‘the strongest’, surely, he can’t be the strongest in bed too… right?

wrong,

because that smug ‘lil grin of yours gets wiped off your face almost instantly the second he’s pushing your cute, weak legs over your shoulders. oh- he’d show just how strong he could be, especially underneath the sheets. satoru had stamina for miles, rarely running out of gas and he’d easily steal orgasm after orgasm out of you. after a plethora of pliable positions, you now found yourself laid flat on your back with your legs pinned right behind your head.

“aw! c’mooon, sweets. wanna see how flexible my wife’s pussy can get,” he hoarsely coos, and his playful demeanor slowly vanishes. satoru’s now feral - and he was always feral with you. especially whenever he was stuffed inches deep inside of your sloppy bear-hugging cunt.

you whine, staring up at the white-haired man and he’s still got his blindfold on. it’s halfway on, sexily showing a bit of his right eye as he runs a hand through his tangled frosty strands. satoru’s favorite thing was to manhandle you, toss you around the room ‘n treat your body like a rag doll.

“ ‘toru, fuuuuck,” you’d sob out, the inner pit of your tummy letting off a deep exhale once he’s buried in. the head of his dick’s now thwacking near the hilt, and you’ll never forget the feeling of his long, bulky cock sneakily massaging its way toward your gummy cervix. it’s repetitive, and you’re chewing on your inaudible whimpers at each luscious stroke he gives you. he’s an animal, and each merciless pound makes you trill out his name over ‘n over until your poor, poor vocal chords strain. “don’t stop, p- please. fuck me, fuh— fuuuck.”

“awwwh, my pretty wifey’s so talkative today, especially her too,” he whispers, and you moan once he’s practically laid flat against your bare chest. satoru snakes a hand between your legs, rubbing messy circles against your leaking pussy. a sly grin creases at each corner of his lips as he rubs near your full abdomen. satoru groans, moving his hand toward the middle part of your tummy before softly pressing down - feeling a prodding ‘lil bulge that he knew all too well. “mhm, that’s all me, baby. alllll fuckin’ me.”

your cunt was indeed loud, each sloppy thrust of satoru’s hips whacking into you at full collision makes you gush.

you couldn’t help but soak a portion of his cock with masses of your syrupy slick and it makes him hum. how cute, satoru could even feel your dripping pussy fluttering around his length. he’s thick—and more importantly, he’s fuckin’ big.

satoru’s sweating, and as he continues to hold your legs up over your head, you spot the spasming veins bulging in his arms. beefy, is the perfect word to describe him. every muscle within him flexed whilst he was pounding into you rawly, making sure your greedy cunt always remembered exactly who it belonged to. “mhm, such a pretty girl. gushin’ all on me, think i oughta train thisss—” and he pauses, giving your soddened entrance a playful pat. “—pussy jus’ a bit more, hm? could be a ‘lil stronger, especially since y’r dealin’ with me, baby,” and as he’s talking, he starts to lick near your neck. “fuuuck, ooh i love that fuckin’ grip. nasty girl. mmm, make me just as messy as you, uh huh.”

“fuh— ‘m gonna cum!” you squeak, the intense throbbing between your legs only increases whilst he’s giving you his all with his ragged strokes. into. each hit was more and more ruthless, your head’s spinning, and the beats of your heart only got quicker. you were sure that your pretty glistening slick had his entire cock to the base covered by now. needless to say, you were drenched. satoru even leans upright to your face, snickering once he feels your hands try to pull his blindfold off. “sato—ruuu, cum, ‘m gonna cum.”

“yes, princess i heard you the first time,” he coos, his tone full of smug arrogance. oh, how you wanted to wipe that cocky smirk right off his naturally glossed lips. his appetizing thrusts against you were the definition of straight insanity, and as his hips kept championing at such speedy strokes, you squealed. riiiight there, the mushroomy crown of his cock scraped against the target of your cervix and you nearly go crazy. “ooooh, there it is. there—she—fuckin’ is,” and as his voice grits lower, pausing each stroke to enunciate his sloppy hits against your cunt, it’s almost like he’s talking down to you. but in this case—satoru’s talking down to your cunt, because it’s the only thing he’s staring at.

openly, he snatches his blindfold off and his sparkly eyelashes flap thrice once he makes loving eye contact with your weeping pussy.

“mm, give it to me then, pretty girl. make a fuckin’ mess on me,” and you moan once he pulls your legs up even higher over your head. bringing his sheeny-coated lips up to your ear, he whispers hoarsely, giving your drenched cunt a doubting squeeze. “i dare ya.”

✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO.

“that?” choso’s eyes widen, hearty irises glued to your phone. you’re showing him some one-minute-long video of a woman getting passionately hammered in what you told him was ‘mating press.’ choso wasn’t new to intimacy, and whenever you recommended new positions for him to try, he’d always get excited. maybe even a bit . . aroused. “o- oh,” and his voice lowly husks, watching at the deeply intimate angles. the woman lay underneath the man and his weight pressed all on her. he was giving her deep and thorough strokes, occasionally giving her sloppy hot kisses in between. choso could feel his heart race as he started to imagine himself doing that exact position to no one other than you.

and he did, because the moment he’s cutely staring at your exposed, nude body underneath him, he can’t help but moan. you’re so pretty, and as he’s feebly trying to align himself, he whimpers.

“mngh, b- baby, ‘s this okay?” and his darkened eyes flicker toward your face. he’s leisurely placing his weight on your body, bringing your legs up to go over his shoulders. glossy, pink lips of his quiver as he feels the weeping wetness of your pussy twitch and drench around his cock. “don’t wanna hah- hurt you, tell me if ‘m too heavy, ‘kay?”

“promise, ‘cho,” you softly coo, your voice as smooth as silk. indeed choso was a tad bit heavy, especially compared to you. he was around a staggering height that’s damn near over feet of six inches tall and he was just looking at you like he was ready to pounce. a needy pout stretches across the thin corners of his lips as he moans, watching openly as your cunt starts to swallow his stoutly pinkish tip. “mmh, that’s it, baby. nice ‘n slow- whenever you’re ready.”

your voice- choso got off from it alone. every sentence that came out of your mouth had him weak. as your legs remained hauled over his droopy shoulders, he’s slowly inserting his cock into your greedy walls. seconds past and it doesn’t take long before wanton whimpers slither their way past your lips. “f- fuck, ‘s fuckin’ warm for me,” choso shudders out a breath, the feeling of your gripping cunt hugging his length tightly sends him shivers. it’s an indescribable feeling that makes his sable-colored brows curl into an arch and within just a few simple thrusts, choso loses it.

within a few rigid beginning thrusts—he gradually starts to get the hang of it. pumpin’ his lanky cock in and out of you as labored breaths snatch from his lungs, he whines yet again. this time though, it’s far louder. you’ve got to cup his face whilst he’s pounding into you rigorously. nearly crushing you with his hefty weight, choso tries to hover a bit over your wet cunt, moaning for the grip as he’s casually rocking back ‘n forth into your warm, welcoming body.

“good boy, f- fuck me, choso- riiight there, mhm!” you’d whine, feeling your eyes starting to dramatically roll and flicker from just his sheer size alone. choso’s cock had such length that it expands allll through you, reading out every area of your cunt like a map. it knows the exact layout, all the secret crevices, and angles to locate and once he reaches there . . you’re fucked.

between you and choso—you honestly don’t even know who’s louder. the moment you call him a ‘good boy’, you can almost feel him melting in your hands like putty. choso’s bumpy hips start to accelerate quicker and you whine every time you feel one of his veins pulse down his cock. “f- fuck, think ‘m gonna hah- cum jus’ from lookin’ at you,” he cutely rambles, each thrust becoming more sloppy. his hips have such power that it makes the entire bed groan out whiny creaks of its own. “you’re so pretty baby, s- so pretty with your legs all over my shoulders like this- heh.”

choso’s fucking you with his pace never slowing, trying to remember how the guy in the video did it. slow and steady, deep but thorough strokes, massage the clit . . and as he’s stretching you out with the swollen head of his cock—you let off a soft shriek. ‘pop!’ and you felt his plump shaft slip out of you immediately.

choso’s pussy-drunken grin falters as he notices his dick fell out of you- but not only that, he’s cumming for real. .

it was so sudden, and as his entire body’s spasming above you, he whimpers whilst struggling to align his milky-covered tip back between the opening of your glistening folds. “f- fuck, ‘s no fair, came too early,” he whines, and you moan once he buries his face into the crook of your neck. he’s embarrassed. your legs were still raised in the air as he’s holding them both firmly, groaning against your skin. a fresh hot batter of oozing cum leaves out of choso’s blushing slit — splattering out lewdly on your puffed pussy folds. choso’s so frustrated that he even tries fucking his cum in between your flaps with the cutest unsatisfied scowl on his lips. “s- sorry, ‘m bein’ a little messy. ‘m sorry, sorry.”

“ ‘s okay, baby,” you let off a quiet moan, your body already starting to feel numb. already, you were starting to miss the gaping outline of his cock driving through your insides but he makes it up by smacking his tip against your cunt. with a wet ‘splash!’ choso ends up smearing his sweltering hot cum all over your entrance, panting the entirety of your twitching sex right his ivory-white color. as he leans in for a kiss, choso clumsily misses your mouth with his lips pressing on your chin instead.

it’s cute, and you had to guide his face with your own hands just to have him shove his tongue into your mouth. choso’s body weight was now starting to grind against you again—but by now, he was straight up jumping you. he wants more, and you could tell as he was moaning into your mouth, grunting from his drooling cock that was rubbing up and down between your pasty entrance.

still swapping cobwebs of spit as the both of you smashed lips on each other—choso’s continues to spank his aching cockhead against your cunt whilst his lips desperately crash against yours. it turns him on, a lot more than he thought- and choso thinks he may have just found out his new favorite kink.

you.

✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO.

being in a relationship with a boxer had its perks.

suguru geto—he was known for his fights, but more importantly his flexible positions. you’d always tease him about it, pokin’ fun at how you wish he’d fold you like his opponents one time for once. but oh, you’re taken aback once he takes you up on that offer.

“nuh uh, don’t tap out now, baby. let’s see that cute form,” geto grunts, pressing a wet kiss near the inside of your neck. the two of you were in his private gym, specifically his private ring where he’d always train. today though, you were needy, teasing him at how you wanted him to be put in a chokehold like he did to his opponents. but, the moment he’s got you straddling his lap as you’re cockwarming him, you’re nothing but a wet babbling mess. you moan, letting off a breathy gasp once the top part of his boxing glove rubs against your sobbing cunt. you were soaked, making a mess on the mat and a soft gasp creeps out the back of your throat once he wraps a beefy arm around your throat.

safely, geto’s got you in a firm chokehold — the exact one you’d usually see him perform on his other opponents. embarrassingly enough, your cunt twitches almost instantly, and you were trying to grind your hips back into him. “hngh, suguru- fuuuck,” you purr out, letting off a weeping mewling whimper as you felt his fat pointed dick ream a path through your insides. the entire gym was quiet. the only sounds that could’ve been heard were the wet sloshing sounds of geto’s glove gently smacking against your sprawled open pussy. psh after pshh and it only gets louder as you squirm, your thighs parting.

he’s big, manhandling you like this while you’re in a mere chokehold. once you’re starting to sloppily bounce on his lap, you can hear him hiss from the enticing friction. the electric sting of both mounds of flesh slamming on each other ends up giving you both whiplash. “h- hah, fuck, good girl. ride it—move those hips, fuck me back- mmph,” he starts to groan, the weight of your ass getting more and more impactful. geto’s meaty thighs glue against yours and you moan, feeling the curve of his cock rummaging through your squashy insides.

he’s so thick, that his plump tip runs through your tremulous walls before it frantically jackhammers its way to your cervix. letting off a squalling ‘ah!’ of a squeak, your back ends up falling into his broad chest. geto’s sweaty, bare skin rubs off against your skin and he groans. the sly dark-haired boxer wore nothing but his thinly made everlast boxing shorts. “suguruuuu,” you cutely drag out his name, moaning at the way his beefy bicep still wrapped around your neck. you’re bouncin’ up and down repeatedly and it’s almost comical at how your eyes were bulging out of their holes. your tongue was fully lolled, and you’ve never felt more stuffed. hit after hit, by this point, you were sure geto’s cock was gonna give your pretty pussy a solid, fair K.O.

but oh, geto ends up fucking you round after round - literally. he went from having you ride him to him pounding you into his squishy, red mat. your face vigorously presses into the cushion as you’re moaning, desperately whining out his name while he’s ‘practicing’ his special techniques on your cunt. the entire scene was lewd, and as you continued to whine out pathetic cacophonies of, ‘suguruuu,’ — ‘riiight there,’ — or his personal favorite, ‘ooooh, hit it there baby!’ ‘s, he’d feel his dick twitch inside you every time.

your ass raises the second he grabs ahold of your hip, and he’s madly drilling into you raw. each sloppy stroke and twist of his hips makes your toes curl and the bittersweet taste of your saliva ends up trickling down the side of your mouth, landing face-first on the vermillion-colored boxing mat. “fuckin’ shiiit, ‘m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he huffs, resting his free hand on your arched spine. so pretty - the way your ass tries to thrust back into his sharp hips was oh-so-cute. your pussy only got more sloppy, and as he’s feeling his cock preparing to release itself, you could almost hear a whimper snarl out from his throat. “ah, tell me where, f- fuck. talk to me, pretty.”

“i- insiiiide,” you squeal out with short breaths, his cock merrily kneading through your walls. it’s almost filthy at how loud your cunt was. just drooling such molasses of sheeny slick on his length, making an even bigger mess between your legs and on the fighting mat too. as he’s giving you his final, victorious thrusts that make your mouth snap open — a fairly lewd K. O., geto grunts, losing the match with his opponent being nothing more than your sweet, slippery cunt.

instantaneously, wads of thin bubbly ropes mesh with your slick juices, a pretty white ring foamin’ around his base. your release slams into you like a semi-truck, and your eyes crossed almost instantly.

with his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he’s pouring in such slimy amounts that end up tearing straight down your pulsing bare slit. geto groans, hazed and all as his darkened eyes glance at how you were perfectly arched for him. this position was perfect for you in his eyes.

ass up — face down, “goddamn,” he grumbles through pearly gritted teeth and a slack jaw. mewing satisfied coos purr out of your spit-slicked lips as you feel him plugging you up to the brim, hearing the wet plops ‘n paps of his hot, sticky cum dripping onto the mat. you only imagined what it looked like, how much of a fuckin’ mess you were. “hah- aren’t you a champ,” he pants, and you moan once geto smacks your ass.

speedily, he now makes you flip over with a swift toss of a single brawny arm before picking you up. “mmhn, sweetheart. you did ‘s good for me,” and as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, geto gives you a chaste kiss. a few loose strands of hair stick against your forehead as his tongue curls its way inside of your hot mouth before he snickers, pulling away. “ah, there’s one more position i wanna try though.”

“w- what?” you heave, pouting the second his lips depart from yours.

geto re-aligns himself between your leaking cunt that’s still profusely spurting out clods of milky clumps of his cum before he lifts you just a bit higher against his chest. “hm, oh- i just fuck you while standing up,” and you moan, wrapping your arms around his broad neck. ravened, feral eyes meet yours one more time and geto lets off a husky grunt, his boxing glove sneaking between your legs. “you’re my big girl though, yeahh?”

[scumvsss]

Disciple Shen Yuan (during disciple Shen Jiu era) who accidentally became the Divination Peak's head disciple bc he worked so hard and used all his meta knowledge, just so he could make a video-based divination system that shows the future. The Peak Lords were all appropriately impressed and this seals Shen Yuan as the next Divination Peak Peak Lord. A lot of pre-canon problems get solved. It becomes a world-changing invention.

Shen Yuan made it just to watch the endings of all his favorite animes.

Just. The hilarity of Peak Lord Shen Yuan becoming this mysterious genius Seer, sought after by the entire cultivational world. And then he just locks himself inside, pretending to be "prophesizing" or something. He's a full blown NEET at this point. He completely misses Shen Jiu's entry to the sect bc he was too busy "dvining" the next episode of Frieren Beyond the Journey's End. The next time he comes out, its with some vague words of valuing time spent with your peers.

The Qing Generation Peak Lords immediately listens to him and are now doing constant meet ups as the equivalent of team bulding exercises. The Shen Qingqiu rumors get solved. Shen Jiu is appropriately wary of this seemingly all knowing Peak Lord whom everyone listens to. And yet he also considers. Someone who can see the future? Someone who can SPEAK of the future they see and CHANGE it? Oh? Someone who can see all possible threats? What do you mean he can also divine your past? Past as in blackmail material?

Shen Jiu, in a fit of genius proving his right to be called the sect strategist, decides he'll have to test tf outta Shen Yuan to see if he can trust him (and sj is also low key terrified and hateful bc here is someone who can ruin everything he's ever done and he will NOT just let it be tyvm) and so Shen Jiu just. Does some minor (extensive) background search. And tries ro get Shen Yuan to snap. Yeah, that's right. Just annoy the scary all-seeing dude.

Shen Yuan eventually gets super annoyed, his inner internet troll has been desperately struggling to get free for YEARS, and now here's a convenient target who totally deserves it. Shen-Shixiong you total prick, why do you keep digging up everything about Shen Yuan!

So. In a fit of similar genius spiked with way too much pettiness, Shen Yuan goes "You little prick, lets see how you like it when YOUR privacy gets invaded!" and promptly plays a random scene from Shen Jiu's future ala projector style while they were in a Peak Lord meeting.

Shen Yuan made sure its nothing distressing or embarassing, he's petty not cruel! Except he did this by just doing a routine surface level scan of the emotions involved, and it was on "happy." Shen Yuan, a fuerdai who never really knew about Shen Jiu's past, just assumed it'd be a basic scene of maybe having a good meal or talking to a friend or something. He did NOT realize how fucking rare "Happy" is for Shen Jiu.

The scene that plays is a marriage.

Two figures decked in regal red marriage robes are in a bow in front of each other. The unmistakeable Grand Hall of Cang Qiong swathed in tastefully luxurious decorations surrounds them. There are also a lot of other damning details.

Qing Jing Peak's logo is embroidered onto the billowing ribbons. Paired with Divination Peak's own logo.

The two figures stand.

Its Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan.

When future-Shen Jiu actually smiled at future-Shen Yuan (who looks disgustingly in love wtf) and started leaning in for a kiss, present-Shen Yuan violently slams the divining tool off.

The loud slam is followed with a damning silent moment. That, unfortunately, lasted only for an actual moment.

Someone clears their throat.

Its Qi Qingqi.

She has a shit eating grin on her face. Besides her, Wei Qingwei's expression is slowly starting to match. Around, the other peak lords are either too invested, or carefully avoiding looking at him and Shen Jiu.

Shen Yuan very, very carefully does not look Shen Jiu's way.

"So..." Qi Qingqi begins. "Interesting divination there, Shen-Da-Shixiong, Shen-Er-Shixiong." Her words practically drip with insinuation.

Oh God. Oh Fuck. Fuck no.

Side Notes:

Shen Yuan's eyes glow a beight system blue whenever he "divines the future"

Shen Yuan wears a fortune teller outfit, meaning he's typically covered head to toe, complete with a veil.

Shen Yuan CAN actually see the future and show it to other people, either ala projector style 2d view of his choosing. or a complete 3d (like a pensieve in hp)

[jgbogus]

at this rate can whatever God just nuke the earth?

[mercvry-glow]

In the cool blue

parings. andrew "pope" cody x reader

summary. while staying at the cody house, a small group of rivals takes you, j and nicky hostage while the other are out. pope helps you in the after math.

warnings. based off of season two late episode six/early seven (so spoilers but also eh), reader is at the house with j and nicky when javi shows up, assault, drowning, gun mentions, reader and j get beat tf up, pope is actually pretty chill in this he's a softie today, established relationship, angst and hurt/comfort, general animal kingdom stuff, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. this is now my longest fic 😭 idk what inspired me to get this out but I really hope y'all enjoy bc this is a doozy and my current magnum opus. as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 5700+

It was supposed to be a quiet night.

You were stretched out on a lounge chair by Smurf’s pool, your freshly painted toes resting on the edge, a silk robe sliding off your sun-warmed skin. The water glowed that dreamy blue under the patio lights, casting ripples of light across your legs.

J and Nicky were inside, supposedly studying—though judging by how quiet it’d been for the past hour, you figured they were either making out or asleep, but with Nicky banging Craig you didn’t know. Either way, it meant you had the place to yourself. For once, things felt… safe. Even with Pope gone, running one of those jobs he never gave you the full story on.

You liked it better that way.

Until you heard the gravel shift.

At first, you thought it was just the wind. But then came the unmistakable slam of feet on the driveway. Then another. Then voices—low, quick, male.

You sat up.

The voices weren’t familiar. They didn’t carry like Deran or Craig’s. They were sharper. Harder.

You turned, just in time to see movement at the side gate. Four shadows. One of them kicked it open without hesitation.

Your blood ran cold.

You were moving before you even realized it, sandals forgotten by the chair, robe trailing behind you as you bolted across the backyard and slipped inside through the back slider, locking it instinctively—too late.

Before you could even breathe, a glass behind you shattered.

You screamed—just a little, more of a gasp—and darted down the hall, barefoot on tile, adrenaline flooding your veins.

You ducked into the nearest hallway closet, pulling the door shut as softly as you could, heart pounding so loud you swore they could hear it from the kitchen.

Then came the noise.

Boots stomping on tile. Furniture dragging. A bottle shattering.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to hold in a whimper.

“Where is it?” one of the men barked.

“Check the freezer! Smurf used to keep cash in the damn freezer,” another snapped.

Cabinet doors slammed open. A chair was kicked over. Something heavy crashed to the floor and shattered. They were tearing the place apart like they knew something was here—and they wanted it now.

You didn’t dare peek. You couldn’t even cry. You just stayed curled up in the dark, wedged between winter coats and some old duffel bags, praying your knees wouldn’t give out before it was over.

You weren’t cut out for this. You weren’t a Cody. You weren’t like Pope.

You were just the girl he liked to keep close.

And right now, you were alone.

You didn’t even know how long you’d been in the closet.

Seconds? Minutes? It all blurred. Your muscles were locked, knees tucked to your chest, the smell of mothballs and old leather coats clinging to you as loud crashes and shouted curses continued to fill the house.

They were everywhere—kitchen drawers being yanked out, bedroom doors thrown open. You heard the crack of something heavy hitting the wall, then the dull thud of furniture being flipped.

Your fingers gripped the hem of your robe, knuckles white.

“Nothing’s here!” one of them yelled.

Another guy laughed, a low, mean sound. “Bullshit. This is Smurf’s place. There’s always something here.”

They were getting closer.

The voices grew louder. Clearer. Footsteps pounding down the hallway—your hallway. You squeezed your eyes shut.

And then they stopped.

Right outside the closet.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You heard someone mumble something under their breath, and then—

Click.

The door handle shifted.

You barely had time to suck in a gasp before the door was yanked open, the bright hallway light flooding the tiny space. You squinted up at a man with a shaved head, a leather jacket, and a small scar across his cheek. He froze when he saw you—half crouched in the back of the closet like a deer caught in headlights, robe pulled tight across your chest, cheeks streaked with silent tears.

His eyes widened, and for a split second, you thought maybe he’d just back off.

But then he smirked.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low and oily. “What do we have here?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

He grabbed your arm, hard, yanking you up to your feet like you weighed nothing. You stumbled, your bare feet skidding on the hardwood.

“Thought this place was empty,” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes raking over you like he was trying to figure out if you were worth more than whatever cash they’d been looking for.

You tried to wrestle yourself back into the closet wall, like maybe you could disappear. But he faster, calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist like a vise once again.

“Let go of me!” you gasped, but it barely came out.

He yanked you to your feet with zero care, dragging you forward, your bare toes sliding on the hallway floor. You fought him, pulling back with what little strength you had, but his grip only tightened.

“Don’t make this harder, princess,” he snapped, dragging you through the house as drawers hung open, broken glass crunched underfoot, and the stink of beer and sweat filled the air.

“I didn’t see anything—I swear—” you tried, breath shaking.

“Bet you know where the money is, though,” he shot back.

“I don’t!”

He ignored you, hauling you through the busted slider door and out into the cool night air. Your robe flared in the wind, and you blinked against the patio lights still glowing around the pool. Just minutes ago, you’d been lying there, peaceful, content—now you were barefoot, bleeding from your heels, and being dragged across the stone like some kind of prize.

The others were outside now too. Three men, scattered across the yard, tossing things from the poolside storage chest, upending flowerpots, one of them even kicking at the filter cover.

“She was hiding inside,” your captor called out, shoving you forward a few steps. You stumbled, caught yourself just before you hit the edge of the pool.

“She know where it is?” one asked, barely glancing up.

“She will.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, heart thundering so loud you swore it echoed off the water.

One of them walked up to you slowly—taller, older, colder-looking. His boots stopped just short of your bare toes.

“You got about ten seconds to tell us where Smurf keeps her stash,” he said. Not yelling. Just matter-of-fact. Like he wasn’t asking—he was waiting.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

Wrong answer.

The one who’d dragged you out stepped behind you, grabbing your arms tight and jerking you back against him. The edge of the pool was at your toes now. You felt the chill of the water in front of you, the way your balance shifted just slightly.

“Think again,” the tall one said.

Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them back. 

Someone would come. 

You twisted in his grip, heels slipping on the wet tile, arms aching from how tightly he held you.

“Please—please, I don’t know anything!” you gasped, trying to plant your feet, but he kept pushing you closer to the pool’s edge.

The taller guy just stared, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“I swear to God, I don’t—Smurf doesn’t tell me anything! I just—I’m just Pope’s girlfriend!”

“Which means you know something,” the one holding you growled, yanking your arms up hard enough to make your shoulders burn.

“I don’t!” you cried out, voice cracking as panic bubbled up into your throat. “I don’t even live here—I didn’t even want to be here, I just—they told me to hang out! I was by the pool!”

“Then you shouldn’t have been hiding like a little rat,” the man sneered into your ear.

Your breath caught. “I was scared,” you whispered. “You broke the door down—I thought you were here to kill someone.”

Another guy—shaggy hair, wide eyes like he was hopped up on something—laughed darkly from the side of the yard. “Might still happen, sweetheart, if you don’t start talking.”

“I don’t know!” You squirmed in the first guy’s grip, finally throwing your elbow back into his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it caught him by surprise and he grunted, stumbling just a step.

You broke free for half a second—just long enough to bolt toward the other side of the pool.

But the tall one was fast. He grabbed a fistful of your robe, yanked you back so hard your legs gave out.

You hit the ground on your knees, palms scraped raw from the stone. Before you could move, a boot shoved your shoulder, forcing you to stay down.

“Try that again, and I’ll throw you in face first,” he warned.

Tears spilled hot and fast down your cheeks now. You shook your head, voice high and broken. “Please—I’m not lying—I swear to God, please just let me go! I didn’t do anything!”

No one answered. The only sound was the water lapping gently behind you, and the soft clink of something metal being tossed into the grass.

They weren’t hearing you.

They didn’t care.

And Pope… Pope wasn’t here to fix it.

You curled in on yourself, trembling. You’d never been this scared in your life. And if they decided to stop being patient?

You didn’t know what would happen next.

Your wrists were burning.

The zip ties they had grabbed bit into your skin as one of them yanked your arms behind your back, cinching them so tight you cried out. “Shut up,” he muttered, like your fear was an inconvenience.

The others had gone quiet. Focused.

The tall one paced near the pool, agitated, eyes scanning the yard like he was waiting for something to appear. The guy who tied you up shoved you down roughly back onto a lounger, rope around your ankles now too. You kicked, once, but it only earned you another curse and a warning glare.

You were helpless.

And then… movement.

From the corner of your eye, past the broken slider door and toward the far patio table, you saw J—slow, careful, almost crawling—edging toward the backpack he’d left out there earlier. It was half-hidden under a chair, just slouched enough that no one had noticed it yet.

But you knew what was inside.

His gun.

Your eyes went wide, lips parting in a silent gasp as you watched him stretch a hand toward the strap, his body low, fingers just brushing the zipper. He was so close—

A shout cracked through the night like a whip.

J didn’t freeze.

One of the guys—shaggy hair, twitchy—was already rushed toward him, tackling him towards the pool. J tried to dive away, but the man cracked him across his ribs, sending him sprawling across the stone with a sharp grunt and into a chair.

“Don’t!” you screamed from the lounger, struggling against the ropes. “Stop it! He’s just a kid!”

“Yeah?” the tall one snapped, stalking toward J now with ice in his voice. “Then he should’ve stayed hidden.”

The man in the brown jacket went to grab some leftover rope as two of his men continued to beat up J. They ignored your cries, focused on getting the teen who knew much more than you did. 

J coughed, curled on his side, one arm over his stomach. He looked at you—eyes wide, scared, like he was sorry. Sorry he got caught. Sorry he couldn’t stop this.

And all you could do was watch, wrists bound, robe soaked with your own tears, knees bleeding from the flagstone.

Inside the house, somewhere deep, a door creaked. Maybe Nicky was still hiding—maybe she’d heard it all.

God, you hoped she stayed hidden.

J was already coughing, barely able to get to his knees when they grabbed him again.

You tried to scream—tried to tell them to stop—but your voice was hoarse, useless against the chaos unfolding feet away from you.

The tall one grabbed J by the collar and hauled him. His shoes scraped across the tile, hands clawing at the man’s arm, but he was no match. Not like this. Not when he was winded and scared and outnumbered.

“J,” the tall one growled, voice calm in that cold, terrifying way, “who else is in the house man?”

“No one… just us,” J grunted, trying to gain his breath back.

Wrong answer.

“Go check the bedroom.” the man, who you assumed to be their leader, said as two of them left to go search the house again. 

The silence was heavy, water sloshing up onto the patio as J’s body stayed on the stone. You curled instinctively, like maybe if you didn’t watch it would stop, but the zip ties bit into your skin again and you could barely even sit up, and it kept you in the moment.

The tall man knelt at the pool’s edge, grabbed J by the back of the shirt, and held his head. “Smurf isn’t here?”

“Sh-She went to meet you…” 

You started sobbing quietly.

“She didn’t show.” 

They didn’t listen to whatever the teen had to say,  and two of them took J into the pool holding him up by his shoulders. 

“Hey, Jay. Where does Smurf keep her money?” the bald man asked, brandeshing his revolver like it was no big deal. J could barely get his answer out before they shoved him under. 

Your heart seized in your chest. “He’s not lying! He’s just a kid!”

They yanked him back up—J came out sputtering, gasping for air like a fish yanked from the deep, hair plastered to his face, chest heaving.

“One more time,” he asked, voice deadly quiet, “Where is Smurf’s money?”

J shook his head, water dripping down his face. “I swear to God—I don’t know—”

Back under.

The splash this time was smaller, like J didn’t even have the strength to fight it.

You were screaming now. Screaming and crying and twisting so hard your skin was raw from the rope, your knees scraped to hell from the concrete. “Please! He doesn’t know anything! Please don’t kill him!”

Finally—finally—they let him up again.

He floated toward the edge, wheezing, barely able to lift his head.

The tall one stood slowly, glanced over at you.

“You believe him?” he asked, wiping water from his hands.

You nodded frantically, eyes wide. “Yes! Yes, I believe him! I swear he’s telling the truth—there’s no money here! I-If it was, it'd be behind the dryer o-or shoe boxes!”

He didn’t move. Just stared at you for a long, uncomfortable second.

Then he said, “Maybe we’re asking the wrong person then.”

Your stomach dropped.

The twitchy guy who’d hit J first turned, stepping closer to you with a smirk, eyes running over your soaked robe, your trembling frame. They had dragged the poor boy out of the pool, beating him a bit more before turning their attention to you. 

“Nah,” he said. “She looks like a real good liar.”

And then the tall one said it—flat, casual, awful.

“Next time, we start with her.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t even think. 

Just cry.

You didn’t even realize how loud you were until the tall one’s eyes snapped back to you.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Shut her up.”

Your breath caught in your throat, panic curling deep in your gut.

“No—no, please, I didn’t—” You tried to scramble backward on the lounger, bound wrists twisting behind you, but you didn’t make it far. One of them—the twitchy one—grabbed your ankle and yanked you off the chair like it weighed nothing. You hit the stone patio with a painful thud, cheek scraping the ground, knees buckling beneath you.

“Get off me!” you cried, kicking, writhing in the ropes. “Don’t—don’t touch me!”

But he already had both hands on you, dragging you toward the pool.

“Guess she wants to take a swim,” he said darkly, like it was funny.

“No! Don’t—please, please don’t—!”

You thrashed harder, your robe getting twisted, legs scraping over the edge of the concrete just as your toes touched water. Cold. Too cold.

J was still wheezing, choking on his own blood, on the opposite side, watching in horror as they pulled you closer to the deep end.

“Leave her alone!” he tried to shout, voice wrecked from coughing.

The tall man didn’t even look back. “She wants to run her mouth, she can hold her breath.”

And then you were in the air—ropes tight, arms behind you, no way to break the fall—

Splash.

The cold hit you like a brick.

You sank instantly, robe ballooning around you, legs kicking uselessly as your wrists stayed locked behind you. You tried to swim, tried to surface, but the water kept dragging you down, twisting your body as you fought against it.

Your lungs burned.

You broke the surface once—gasped—only to be shoved back under again.

You didn’t know which of them did it. A hand on your head, a push between your shoulders. You couldn’t see. Everything was bubbles and blur and cold, cold, so cold.

Your scream was just a gurgle under the water.

You were going to drown.

And they didn’t care.

You came up again, coughing violently, gasping through sobs, and someone finally pulled you toward the steps, dumping you like trash onto the slick tile. You coughed, spit, choked on your own breath as you curled onto your side, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Now shut the hell up,” the tall one said, calm again, like none of it meant anything.

Behind him, J was still slumped on the ground, bleeding, soaked, and shaking.

And you—barefoot, half naked, shivering, and drenched—lay there helpless, your body shaking so hard it barely felt real.

You didn’t say another word.

The cold, sharp air felt like it might never leave your lungs. You shivered uncontrollably on the edge of the pool, the water dripping from your hair, your robe clinging to you like a wet sheet. The ropes around your wrists bit deeper into your skin, but you were too numb to even notice it anymore.

Then the door creaked.

You didn’t see her at first, just heard the shuffling footsteps—slow, dragging, someone stumbling.

“No one else in the house huh?,” the tall one said with a grin, eyes flicking over toward the door.

And then, like something out of a nightmare, Nicky was shoved into view.

Her face was swollen, bruised, blood streaking down her cheek from where someone had hit her. She was tied up too, wrists bound, her own robe in tatters from the way they'd manhandled her. She could barely stand, her knees buckling as they shoved her forward, her eyes red from crying, hair in disarray.

“No—no…” you whispered, horrified. Your voice cracked like glass under pressure.

She didn’t look at you, didn’t even try to. She was too dazed, too hurt, and when they shoved her to the ground next to you, she just crumpled, hands still tied, trying to curl into herself as much as possible.

“Nicky, please,” you begged, trying to push yourself toward her, but the ropes kept you in place, your body too weak to get far.

The tall one crouched down in front of J, who they had just pulled out of the pool one last time, was still trying to sit up from where they’d dumped him on the ground after you’d been thrown in the pool. He was shaking now—no longer the kid who thought he could hide a gun, no longer defiant. He was a ragdoll, eyes wide with fear yet dropping with exhaustion as he looked back and forth between you, Nicky, and the crew.

“Think I came all this way for twenty-five grand!?” the tall one said, eyes cold and calculating, smacking J in the face with the money you told them where to find. He drew another gun from his jeans, “Last goddamn time! Where’s the real money?!” The gun was aimed right on J’s face, locked and loaded and this guy wasn’t afraid to do it.

J’s lips parted. He didn’t say anything at first, and the silence was worse than anything else. “I told you I don’t know, I swear!” the blonde boy promised, desperate and pleading. They stepped on his bad leg, the one he hurt in the church hiest, as you and Nicky screamed in pain for him. 

Nicky flinched when one of the men reached down and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her up roughly. She winced but didn’t cry out, just staring at the ground, her whole body shaking.

“Get her out of here?” the tall one said again, voice flat.

J didn’t respond. His hands were shaking, too, but he wasn’t answering.

The crew didn’t wait.

One of them grabbed Nicky, taking her god knows where after she left your sight as the two men kept arguing over the fucking money. J’s scream was guttural, and he collapsed back to the stone, curling in on himself, chest heaving with pain.

You gasped, heart hammering in your chest as you fought against the ropes, but you couldn’t do anything.

J tried to speak, but it was barely a whisper. “Smurf’s got a storage unit on Freemont!”

The tall one stood back, his eyes cold, hands in his pockets. “What’s the number!?”

J said he didn’t know but would take them as long as they didn’t take Nicky, begging them to stop before pushing him into the pool one last time. His body arched, another groan escaping his throat as he struggled to swim, just as you had. He wasn’t able to defend himself, wasn’t able to do anything but take it.

You could feel the heat rising inside you, your stomach twisting in knots. You wanted to scream, to help him, to do something—but you were just tied up, helpless, watching him be broken apart in front of you.

They left after that, leaving you on the floor barely conscious. Taking Nicky and leaving J to drown in the pool his grandmother owned. You tried to crawl toward him, wrists bleeding from the ropes, but your vision went white, then black, then nothing at all.

--

The Jeep rolled to a slow stop in the driveway, headlights washing over the front of the Cody house. The gate was open. The porch light flickered. One of the patio chairs was overturned on its side like it had been thrown or tripped over. Something about the stillness was wrong. Off.

Pope stared at the front door—it hung open just a crack, too quiet, too deliberate. His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel as his instincts kicked in. He killed the engine and reached down beneath his seat, pulling out his gun. “Stay in the car.” 

Smurf started to follow, her hand already on the door handle, but Pope turned to look at her sharply, eyes already storm-dark. He told her to stay put.

She didn’t listen.

“I said stay in the car!” 

By the time he was creeping up the walkway, gun low and steady, Smurf was already on his heels. Her voice was low but sharp, cutting through the heavy silence—there was no way in hell she was waiting in the damn car while something had clearly gone sideways.

The moment they crossed the threshold of the house, the sight hit them first—The living room was a mess. Chairs overturned. A shattered lamp across the floor. One of the barstools broken in half, splinters fanned across the tile. Picture frames cracked and crooked on the walls.

Pope’s eyes swept the scene, methodical, calculating. Smurf stepped over a smashed photo of Baz and Julia, heart hammering in her chest as her gaze caught the trail—scuffs on the floor, a faint smear of blood. 

Pope moved room to room, clearing each space like the soldier he was, finger resting steady beside the trigger. The whole place was silent. Empty. But it wasn’t abandoned. Something had happened here. Something bad. And it wasn’t over yet.

Smurf made it to the back of the house first. She reached the sliding glass door and stopped cold.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Outside, under the cold glow of the moon, two figures lay in the stillness. One, half in the pool—barely moving. The other crumpled on the concrete like a broken doll. She bolted, flinging the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. “Pope get out here!”

And he was right behind her, and when his eyes landed on the scene, he didn’t hesitate. J was slumped at the edge of the deep end, one arm hanging limply into the water, lips blue, chest barely rising as he coughed out water. His skin was soaked and pale. They ran for him, dropped to thier knees, and hauled the rest him out in swift motion, dragging him onto semi-dry ground

You were collapsed on the pavement not far from him, your wrists still bound, rope burns angry and raw. Your clothes were damp and ripped in some places. Your head lolled to one side, blood matting the edge of your hairline. You were breathing—but it was shallow, strained, like your body was hanging on by a thread.

Andrew dropped beside you, hands still as he checked your pulse, pressed his fingers against your clammy cheek. There was blood, but it wasn’t fresh. Whoever had hurt you. Tied you up. Left you here like garbage. His  jaw clenched as he tore the ropes free with his knife.  

His own heart was racing now—not out of fear, but rage.

Behind him, Smurf was crouched next to J, trying to keep him awake, her expression darkening with every slurred word that came out of the kid’s mouth. Something about a storage unit. Fremont. Smurf’s name. Nicky. And a man—Javi. He’d given them what they wanted. It still hadn’t been enough.

Pope was tense, but not from the sudden adrenaline rush. From fury. From failure. From the sight of you lying there like that, and J barely clinging on.

Smurf pulled off her coat and draped it over J’s  shoulders, and You flinched slightly as Pope tried to move you, a broken whimper escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake.

The air felt thicker now—like the violence hadn’t left yet. Like it was still sitting heavy over the house, waiting to be answered.

--

You woke to the low hum of an air conditioner and the faint scent of bleach and detergent—clean, sterile, unfamiliar. The world came back in pieces. The pressure in your skull. The aching pull of your muscles. The bruises blooming beneath your skin.

Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim light of a shaded living room. You were lying on a couch, a heavy blanket draped over your legs, the cushions dipping slightly beneath your weight. Your old clothes were gone. Replaced with a big, worn t-shirt that didn’t belong to you and a pair of sleep shorts. The fabric was soft. Smelled faintly like soap and someone else’s cologne.

Specifically the someone next to you.

You turned your head—barely—and saw Pope, sitting silent in the chair beside the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He hadn’t noticed you were awake yet. His eyes were fixed on the floor, brow furrowed, that same stormcloud expression carved into his face like stone.

There was a first-aid kit on the table nearby. A bloody rag beside it. A bottle of water, half-drunk. And your wrists—carefully wrapped in gauze. Clean. Tended to.

He’d done it. You could tell.

His head finally lifted. Eyes meeting yours.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stared. Not coldly—but intensely, like he was trying to figure out if you were real or maybe just what to say.

Your throat was dry. Scratchy. Every part of your body screamed in protest, but you managed a slow breath. You swallowed, trying to sit up slightly, and he was there in an instant—hand on the couch cushion near your arm, grounding you, steadying you without touching.

He didn’t ask how you felt. He didn’t need to.

The silence between you said enough.

You blinked at him, struggling to find the words. You remembered the pool. The ropes. The last thing you saw—J’s body going under, your own lungs burning, your screams swallowed by the water.

But you were here now.

 Alive.

Pope leaned back slightly, never taking his hazel eyes off of you. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and gravely.

"You’re safe now."

It wasn’t a comfort. It was a promise.

And in the look he gave you, you knew—someone was going to pay for what happened, every second of it.

The silence lingered, stretching long between you. 

Heavy.

You kept your eyes on him, chest tight and aching in a way that had nothing to do with your injuries. There was this pressure building inside you—like your ribs were made of glass and every breath was another tap against the surface. The weight of it all pressed down until it cracked.

Your lip trembled before you could stop it. A choked breath caught in your throat. And then, without thinking—without asking—you pushed the blanket off and slid off the couch, barefoot and trembling, legs unsteady beneath you.

Pope moved instantly, as if to stop you from falling, but froze when he realized where you were going.

You stepped between his knees and just… folded.

Dropped down into his lap like gravity pulled you there, like it was the only place you could go. Your arms slid around his neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face against his shoulder and finally let it go.

The sob came out broken and raw, like it had been hiding deep in your chest, waiting for the moment you were safe enough to let it out.

And Pope didn’t speak. 

He didn’t stiffen or push you off. He just wrapped his arms around you, slow and solid, one hand bracing your back, the other cradling the back of your head like you were made of something fragile. He held you like that was his only job now. Like that was all he could do.

Your body shook with each breath, each silent sob that spilled into the fabric of his shirt. You weren’t even sure what part of it broke you—J being thrown into the water, the ropes cutting into your skin, the helplessness, the fact that no one came until it was nearly too late—or maybe just the simple weight of surviving it.

Pope stayed quiet. Solid. A wall at your back.

He didn’t shush you. He didn’t tell you to stop crying. He just held on tighter.

Eventually, your cries softened. Still trembling, but quieter now, worn out from the storm. Your arms loosened, head still pressed to his shoulder, breaths coming in uneven little gasps.

“I thought I was gonna die,” you whispered against him, the words barely audible.

Pope didn’t answer right away. But you felt the slow rise and fall of his chest. The way he breathed in through his nose like he was trying to keep it together, too.

“You didn’t,” he said quietly. “You’re here.” In that soft, impossible voice of his—rough and raw and honest—you could feel the edge of something else underneath.

You stayed like that for a long time, curled against him in the quiet. The sounds outside the windows were distant—cars passing, wind through the trees, the faint hum of someone’s music down the block—but none of it touched you here. Not in this little pocket of stillness, where Pope’s arms stayed around you like he was trying to hold your broken pieces together with his own hands.

Your breathing slowed eventually. You felt the exhaustion in every limb, every bruise, but you didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to let go. The silence between you shifted—less sharp now, more full. Safe.

Your voice cracked when you finally spoke again. "I thought no one was coming."

Pope’s hand moved slowly along your back, not soothing exactly—more like he needed the contact too. He let the silence linger a moment longer before he answered.

"I should’ve gotten there sooner."

You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were darker than usual, rimmed with something unspoken. Not guilt exactly—something deeper. Regret. Rage. Fear. All the emotions he felt so intensely. 

“You got there,” you whispered. “You found me.”

That mattered. It mattered more than he probably realized.

He looked at you for a long second. You could see it then—the way his jaw clenched, the slight shake in his hand as it rested against your hip. He hadn’t stopped replaying it. 

Finding you like that. 

Finding J.

“I didn’t know what I was gonna see,” he said finally. His voice was low, hoarse. “When I walked in.”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging again. “They were gonna kill him. And they were gonna take me and Nicky too. I—I thought—”

Your breath hitched and his hand was already on the back of your neck again, grounding you, pulling you gently forward until your forehead rested against his. He didn’t kiss you. Didn’t say anything romantic or comforting. Just held you there, close.

“The guy…” you breathed, “he kept asking about the money. Smurf’s stuff. I don’t even know what the hell they wanted from me.”

“You didn’t tell them anything,” Pope said, more fact than question.

You shook your head. “Didn’t know anything important enough. I just… took the beating.”

His grip on you tightened for a second, like the thought of that was too much. Like he needed something to break. But then he took a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“You did good.”

You looked at him—eyes puffy, cheeks streaked with tears—and almost laughed, but it came out cracked and sad. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You survived,” he said. “That’s everything.”

And you knew, in that moment, that if Pope had gotten there even five minutes later, he would’ve dragged bodies out of that pool himself. Not to save them. But to make sure they stayed under.

You let your forehead rest against his again, breathing in his warmth, the steady thrum of his presence. Not perfect. Not even close. But steady in the way only Andrew “Pope” Cody could be—quiet, fierce, unmovable when it mattered.

You closed your eyes.

“I don’t feel safe anywhere right now.”

His arms wrapped around you again, tighter this time. And his voice was soft enough it barely reached your ears.

“You are when you’re with me.”

mercvry-glow 2025

[tiramissyoucake]

The bath blurb was absolute GOLD!!! love it so much!! Tho it made me question, for the other Mark variants how would they react to the threat of no longer being able to bathe with their boo ever again as well?~~~

first time trying this format, so let's hope it looks right! Based off this

Includes: Sinister, Mohawk, Omni. Lmk if you want any other specific variants !

Cw: little gorey description but nothing drastic, tagged just incase:

♡ Threatening him with no more baths together if he doesn't bail out of a fight immediately

Sinister Invincible

Who tf do you think you are. You can't take that from him. You're not allowed.

It's like a switch goes off in his brain, fists shaking as he clenches them and grinds his teeth together, completely forgetting about whoever he's dealing with

"That's not up to you. Sit tight. I'll kill this fucker and deal with you myself." Then crushes whatever communication device he had jammed in his ear in his fist, leaving no room for discussion

After bursting the skull of whoever he was dealing with in between his hands easily, he flicks off whatever innards clung to his hands and his body, leaving the beheaded corpse for someone else and zooming straight back to you.

You're desperately trying to communicate with him any way possible, but with the earpiece gone there was no way— it's fine, he was right behind you anyway.

"You think you're so fucking smart." He mocks, grabbing your jaw and turning you to him. "Home. Now. You're scrubbing this shit off me."

It took you a moment to establish he meant the blood on his suit and whatever seeped beneath the fabric to his skin, his malicious smile told you this would be a bath that would leave you two overly soaked and pruny.

Mohawk Invincible

Immediately tries to argue, that was sacred. How could you.

His focus completely tears away. "What the fuck?! What did I do?! Just because I'm taking a little longer than usual?! Get back on the damn line! I know you can hear me!!"

He let's out a loud groan when you demanded for him to return again. He was half super-powered alien. Who gives a shit if he took 5 more minutes to kill someone?

"I know you can't live without my dick, but trust me— I'll kill this loser and come straight home! I'll even splatter his guts so you'll know I need that bath!"

"Don't care, bail out. Now." His hands clutch his forehead and drag his skin down to his chin in a frustrated facepalm, he's gotta kill this guy. And fast.

It was messy, he made sure of it, by the end of the massacre the corpse was unrecognisable and his suit was more red than blue and black, he looks up where he knows there's hidden cameras for GDA stalkers to watch him.

"Did'ja see me?" He sounds giddy. "See how filthy I am?" He gestures down to his suit. "I'm comin' to pick you up, we're running that bath the moment we get home!"

Omni Invincible

He tries to act like it doesn't bother him but deep down he feels like the bell tolled for his soul.

"Calm down." He's not sure if he's telling you that or himself. "Don't talk about our private things around those GDA pests."

The definition of 'lock the fuck in.' Because he does immediately after, you see him zip around on the screens before his opponent is grabbed by the throat and ultimately crushed. You thanked God for the distance between the camera and the scene itself.

He grunts as he drops the neutralised enemy and lets the blood drip off his gloved hand. "Threat down, I'm heading back now."

No objections, he was asked to deal with a problem, and he did. He didn't want to waste time around government dogs, picking you up and flying off wordlessly without waiting for your agreement.

"Don't ever talk about when we bathe together around those... parasites." He speaks softly to you as he flies you home with him, keeping out of civilian sights.

"And don't ever threaten not to bathe with me." He sounded more frustrated. "Or I swear, I'll throw that fancy bathtub we own into space and let it land in Alaska."

[sanaexus]

social's as sae's girlfriend

-liked by shiidoryu, isaichii and 125.2k others

yourusername: don't be fooled he actually enjoys being with me (the last image is him when he sees me)

tagged: itoshi_sae

itoshi_sae: fuck off ↳yourusername: don't fuck off, fuck me instead ↳itoshi_sae: oh god i hate you ↳yourusername: no you don't ↳itoshi_sae: i don't

shiidoryu: wow sae you've never looked at me like that?? 💔💔😔😔 ↳itoshi_sae: you're an eyesore ↳shiidoryu: and she's not?? ↳yourusername: RUDE ASF?? YOU LOOK LIKE A TOMATO TFYM ↳itoshi_sae: as much as i hate saying it out loud she's pretty i guess ↳yourusername: was the "i guess" necessary? ↳mikka.kaiser: did you use the tomato as tomato or tomato? ↳yourusername: i used it as tomato ↳mikkar.kaiser: ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID? ITS TOMATO ↳yourusername: BOY STAFU ITS TOMATO ↳mikka.kaiser: NO??? ↳yourusername: SQAURE UP BITCH I'LL FUCKING FIGHT YOU ↳mikka.kaiser: BET

nikkoki: who got bro smiling like that? ↳yourusername: the waitress ↳nikkoki: elaborate ↳yourusername: she was approaching us multiple times, we thought she liked sae nah turns out she's gay thought i was cute thought sae was my brother and asked for my number lol ↳eita.otoya: ohhhh that's why he looks like he's ab to fight someone ↳yourusername: he don't bite 🥰😋 ↳itoshi_ sae: yes i do tf? ↳yourusername: no you don't

isaichii: he's secretly a hopeless romantic (it's canon you won't change my mind) ↳yourusername: frfr (it is i caught him watching shoujo) ↳isaichi: (NAH WAIT FR?) ↳yourusername: (DEAD SERIOUS) ↳itoshi_sae: for context she put it on, forced me to watch it with her and then left the room ↳yourusername: BOO HOO PARTY POOPER

-liked by kuniisuke, chigi.who and 139.7k others

itoshi_sae: cute (the cat)

tagged: yourusername

karasu_tabito: OH EMM GEE SAE POSTING SOMETHING THAT ISN'T SOCCER?!?!?! ↳mikka.kaiser: for FUCKS SAKE MATE IT'S FOOTBALL ARE YOU AMERICAN OR SOMETHING? ↳megubachi: RAHHH WHAT'S A KILOMETER🔥🔥💯💯🦅🦅💣💣🔫 🔫🔛🔝🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 ↳isaichii: FREEDOM RAHHH 🔥🔥💯💯🦅🦅💣💣🔫 🔫🔛🔝🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 ↳itoshi_sae: sigh

yourusername: OMGOMGOMGOMG IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING SAE'S POSTING ME?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?! ↳shiidoryu: you might have won the war but i'll win the battle ↳yourusername: that's the wrong fucking qoute dumbass ↳reo.miikage: quote* and it isn't even a quote it's idiom ↳rin.itoshi: fucking dumbasses it's a phrase ↳yourusername: kys 🤬🤬

user1: she's🎀so🎀coquette🎀 ↳yourusername: ikr sae called that bow stupid :( ↳itoshi_sae: and i apologized and watched inside out with you ↳yourusername: i know i just like making you feel bad

julian.loki: sae apologizing wasn't on 2024 bingo card but love to see it ↳user2: fr now all that man needs to do is apologize to the better sibling ↳itoshi_sae: fuck off ↳yourusername: what he meant to say is "yes of course" his autocorrect must be acting up ↳itoshi_sae: no, i said what i said

-liked by itoshi_sae, rin.itoshi and 144.3k others

yourusername: did you know i like the beach? i like the beach also sae in his photographer era 😝

tagged: itoshi_sae

itoshi_sae: i was taking picture of the food and you had to ruin it ↳yourusername: you're not gonna say allat when you legit forced me to pose for like 15 minutes ↳itoshi_sae: shut up

user2: her eyelashes are so pretty ☹☹ ↳yourusername: stop im gonna kiss u 👉👈 ↳itoshi_sae: not on my watch ↳user2: boo hoo your js jealous i got a chance ↳itoshi_sae: fuck off ↳yourusername: that's not nice

reo.miikage: damn that looks fine ↳hiyori: what the fuck . ↳kuniisuke: what. ↳reo.miikage: THE FOOD I MEAN YALL ARE SO PERVERTED?? ↳kenyu.yukimiya: MAYBE YOU SHOULD SPECIFY??

nagi.seishiro: who took this pictures though ↳yourusername: idk it was in sae's gallery so i took it lol ↳rin.itoshi: y/n wtf what if some creepy old bald oily man took it? ↳yourusername: that's my type 🥰 ↳itoshi_ sae: wtf? ↳yourusername: shh look away

shiidoryu: i thought he hated the beach? ↳yourusername: HUH?? BRO THAT MAN PLAYS FOR A SPANISH TEAM?? HE'S ALMOST ALWAYS SURROUNDED BY WATER? ↳shiidoryu: IDK BRO HE TOLD ME HATED BEACHES WHEN I ASKED HIM TO COME W ME ↳yourusername: I THINK THAT'S BC YOU ASK HIM AND HE DIDN'T WANNA GO W YOU ↳shiidoryu: THAT'S SO RUDE??

itoshi_sae: you're pretty ↳yourusername: OMGG IT'S HAPPENING OMGOMGOMG CODE RED ↳isaichii: WOOO HOOOOO ↳nikkoki: ITS HAPPENING !! ↳nikkoki: WAIT WHAT'S CODE RED AGAIN ↳chigi.who: js cheer her on ↳itoshi_sae: y/n why are your friends like this ↳yourusername: THEY'RE YOUR FRIENDS TOO? ↳itoshi_sae: nah

wooo we're finally done?? idk how i feel ab this but i hope you enjoyed it <3

divider credits to @/v6que

[mytherapyisreading14]

omg loved the professor spencer fic!!!

I was thinking of a plot for pt2 (in case you ever continue it): reader decides to act even more bratty. maybe they run into each other at a bar or smth. she’s dressed up all sexy and flirting with a guy relentlessly and Spencer notices the whole time. when she goes to the restroom, he follows her secretly, and locks both of them inside a stall. He then asks her what tf she’s doing with “what’s-his-face” and she replies “trying to go home with someone who can make me come” and Spencer’s MAD. he becomes all possessive and proceeds to make her come so many times she can’t walk in the end😩

The Professor Effect | pt. 2

Summary: Since that day in Spencer's office, he's been ignoring you. But when he unexpectedly shows up at the same club as you, you decide to take advantage of the situation and make him jealous.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption mentioned, kissing, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, semi public sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), dom!spencer

Word Count: 3,1k

Author‘s Note: You can find Part 1 here. I recommend to read it first because the story makes more sense then. I really loved this request btw because I wanted to write another part too!! :) I changed it a little bit, but I hope you still like how it turned out!

You're ready. Ready to pull yourself together. Ready to regain your focus. Ready for him. For what he said. The lecture hall is almost empty, but you're already sitting there, waiting for him. In front of you on the table are your notebook and your textbook, marked to the brim.

You wanted to feel his hands on your body again. You want him to kiss your neck again, whisper naughty things in your ear and bend you over his table to take what's his. But more than all that, you want him to make you come and you knew it would only work if you functioned.

You've been frustrated ever since that day in his office. Everything he did felt so good, and you want more. Need more. And he let you down. And nothing, nothing feels as good as his hands, his tongue, his cock. Nothing will ever feel as good.

And now you're sitting here, hyper-focused as soon as he comes in. You check in. Constantly. Your analyses are perfect, you made sure they are. You even continue reading during your break, highlighting, taking notes, preparing questions. Your hand writes down everything, as if it were remotely controlled.

And Spencer? He sees right through you. He is at the front, talking about perpetrator motives in the context of family trauma. You want to jump up, join in the discussion, contribute something, prove to him that you're there. But every time you raise your hand his gaze passes over you. He ignores you, only talking to others.

You hate it, hate him for acting like this now. So you decide that on the next day, you’ll wear the red top that caught his eye the first time. To your disadvantage, it doesn’t work and it makes you even angrier, even more frustrated. You try everything to get his attention. Your notes are perfect. Your gaze searches for him again. And again. Nothing. No movement. No reaction.

On Friday, you're packing up your things slowly as the lecture ends. Spencer is still at the front, talking to a student. You stand up slowly and give him one last, steady look. He doesn't even lift his head. When you're outside, you take a deep breath. The air is cold. It cuts into your lungs. And then... it hits you.

You don't want this anymore. You don't want to play this game anymore. You don't want to fight for a look, for a smile. For something that may have only felt real for a moment. If he wants you, he should damn well make the first move.

-

The warm, stuffy air of the bar hits you. It's filled with the smell of alcohol, sweat and perfume. Glasses clink together, people are laughing, dancing and flirting with each other. The loud music makes your heart race and you can feel the slight nervousness in your stomach slowly transforming into a tingling, exciting sensation as you let the door close behind you.

You move with your best friend through the large crowd, the dance floor vibrates beneath your feet. You are wearing your favorite dress tonight. High-necked in the front, but so tight that it hugs every curve. It's soft, almost silky, and falls gently over your hips, accentuating your waist and enveloping your legs, which appear a little longer.

Your skin still glistens slightly from the rain outside, which has left small, cool drops on your shoulders. You immediately feel a lot of eyes on you, but you don't care. Today this is what you want, what you hoped for when you took the dress out of the closet and got ready for the night. Your best friend needs distraction after her breakup, and you need distraction from Spencer. That's why you've decided to go out.

You order drinks and sit down at the bar. "To us," she says as you clink glasses together and take a sip. You stay a little while but the music is good and practically draws you away from the bar and onto the dance floor. You surrender to the music, dancing freely, losing yourself in the rhythm. For a moment, there is only you, the music, the crowd.

And then he appears.

You don't immediately feel it, the presence that suddenly manifests in your field of vision. But there he is. Spencer. In a darker corner, sitting at a table with a couple of other people. You're so caught up in the moment that it takes a few seconds for your brain to register reality. Why is he here? Why now?

For a moment, you're unsure how to act. You want to turn around and leave. But then another feeling pushes itself to the forefront - defiance. Anger. And above all, the desire to show him that you're no longer the person he can simply ignore. You take a deep breath, put on a confident smile, and turn back to the dance floor.

The music is loud in your ears, the crowd around you suddenly feels like a stage and you're the star now. His gaze meets yours - sharp, intense, full of unspoken words. You're in your element, dancing with an open smile, your dress lifting slightly with every movement, your body moving effortlessly as if you were one with the music.

And then there's this guy. He approaches you at the perfect time, offers you his hand, and asks if you want to dance with him. You take it immediately, without any hesitation. Of course you do it on purpose. Because you know Spencer sees it. Because you want him to feel what you felt back then, when he ignored you after that night in his office, as if everything between you was forgotten or never happened.

Spencer sits with his team in a more quiet, darker corner. The drink in front of him is untouched, the foam on the rim of the glass long gone. His gaze is fixed on you, while his body remains still. "Spence? What's wrong?" JJ leans toward him, her voice slightly confused and questioning. She senses the change in his face.

"Only students," Spencer murmurs curtly, avoiding looking directly at you. "From my class." It's an excuse, a weak lie he barely believes himself. Rossi frowns and exchanges a glance with Morgan, who silently observes the situation. Emily grimaces and grins, her voice dry. "You mean the student you're currently undressing with your eyes? Sure, just academic interest."

Spencer remains silent, his gaze fixed on you, as if he can hold you there. You continue dancing, the music filling your senses, your movements becoming bolder. The guy puts his hand on your back, almost demandingly. You don't resist. On the contrary, you turn toward him and move even closer.

His fingers glide over your skin like a promise, along your waist, so lightly that you feel every moment. You allow it, because you want Spencer to see how close he is to you and how easily you slip away from him. The man leans forward and whispers something in your ear. You chuckle softly, a sound that cuts through the loud music.

It's a moment of intimacy and provocation at the same time. Just as you raise your head, your eyes meet Spencer's again. Challenging him. He freezes. His jaw tenses, his shoulders harden, and his eyes seem darker now, burning with raw emotion. Pain, anger, and desire fight a silent war in his gaze, open and exposed.

He slowly raises his glass, takes a long sip. Then another. The alcohol is only a small consolation against the images that greet him on the dance floor. You step even closer to the man. Your lips almost touch his ear as you whisper something to him. All that matters is that Spencer thinks you're saying something confidential, something forbiddenly intimate.

You want him to regret how he's treated you. Every ignored glance, every single day you were invisible to him. Then you slowly pull away from the man. In one fluid motion, you brush a strand of hair from your face, giving him a small, confident smile. Then you make your way through the crowd, step by step, slowly yet purposefully, toward the restrooms.

You've barely entered the room when you hear the door fly open. He pushed it open with such a force that it slams against the wall. You turn around – and there he is. Spencer. His face is serious, his eyes sparkling with a mix of anger and jealousy. Before you can react, he closes the door behind you.

You're in one of the small booths, cramped, shielded from the noisy bar. The air is suddenly thick, full of unspoken tension. "What the hell are you doing with that guy out there?" he asks and you can tell that he’s really angry.

You raise an eyebrow, a cheeky smile playing on your lips. "Try to go home with someone who really makes me come," you reply. His face twists. You can feel his hands bracing themselves against the sides of the booth, wanting to get closer - and yet he pauses, almost challengingly.

"Do you really think he can take you like I do?" His voice is raspy. "Do you think he knows what you need?" he murmurs, barely more than a breath. You roll your eyes and lean back as far as possible. "Unlike you, yes." Deep down, you know this game has only just begun. Spencer laughs. "I know exactly how to give you orgasm after orgasm. I just chose not to." You feel the tension between you growing, drawing you both in.

Despite everything, despite the game, despite the rage lurking beneath the surface. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer. You feel his heartbeat - fast and strong - right beneath your hand. Spencer leans forward, his lips brushing your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that makes you shiver. A soft sigh escapes you, and a sparkle flickers in his eyes that you can only interpret as pure temptation. "Then show me," you say.

“Oh believe me, sweetheart - I will.” He slams you against the wall, his lips pressing against yours, shutting you up. You clutch the collar of his shirt as he hoists you up in his arms and dugs his fingers into your ass. Your legs wrap around his waist in no time. He presses against you, igniting lust in your lower belly when he rolls his hips, his hard cock pressing against you. He bites your lower lip harder and growls before he gently sucks the pain away.

His hands find the zipper behind your back and he begins to open it, his eyes fixed on yours. You whimper at how commanding he looks when he does that. The dress you’re wearing is strapless and the minute you arch your back it slides down and pools at your feet. You are completely naked, except for your soaked panties and your heels. He lowers himself to your breasts and starts to kiss them before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking eagerly.

“You’re so gorgeous. And all mine. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, do you understand?” he asks and you nod. He bites down on your nipple and you whimper. “I already told you the last time. Words, sweetheart,” he says and shakes his head in disappointment. “On - only you,” you manage to breath out and he gives you a satisfied look before he continues his actions.

You try to rub yourself against him, to relief some of the build up pleasure but he keeps moving away, making sure to tease you and not give you what you want again. He gives you another kiss before he kneels down in front of you, kissing down your belly until he’s between your thighs, where you need him the most.

He uses his teeth to lower your panties down your legs and looks up to you for a second. It's the hottest thing you've ever seen and you feel like you could come just from the sight. Your legs are shaking in excitement. He sees it and can't help but grin. "Do you like what you see, sweetheart? Do you think that pathetic man out there would do that? Kneel in front of you here? Taking your panties off like that?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, he - he wouldn’t,” you say and he hums in approval. “That’s right. He wouldn’t,” he says before he buries his nose between your thighs and licks up a strip between your folds. You feel like you’re going to burst out of your skin. "This pussy is mine. And now, I want you to spread your legs for me,” he says and you obey. He kisses your clit, flicking his tongue over it again and again. It feels even better than the last time he did it.

“Spread them wider for me, sweetheart,” he says before he throws one of your legs over his shoulder. He slips his hand between your thighs now too, teasing you with his fingers while he continues to eat you out. You are embarrassingly wet. He begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you then, slowly at first. Moans escapes your lips every time he his fingers curl and hit your g-spot.

His other hand travels up to your breasts again, twisting one nipple roughly. Every time you try to touch him, to run a hand through his hair, he grabs them and holds them in a tight grip, taking control over you completely. He applies more pressure on your clit and you can feel the waves of pleasure rushing over you. “I- I’m close,” you whisper. “I know. But you only get to come when you beg me,” Spencer says.

“I hate you,” you say through gritted teeth and give him an angry look again. “Don't look like that, sweetheart. This time it's completely up to you whether you come or not,” he says, curling his fingers deep inside of you again. A shiver runs down your spine and you know that you don’t have a choice. “Please, Spencer, I - I want to come.”

He increases his pace and you swear you can see stars. “I didn’t quite hear that, you have to speak louder, sweetheart,” he teases again and if you weren't so incredibly turned on, you would have made a sharp comment about that now. But you want to - need to - come and decide it’s easier to just give in. “Please, Spencer. I want to come. Please, make me come,” you say again, louder this time. “Good girl,” he says and increases his pace again, sucking at your clit.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers, his grip on your thighs, his nose against your clit, his voice - everything feels so good and the next second you explode from within, moaning his name so loud that you’re afraid somebody is going to hear you. Your legs are shaking from the intense orgasm and you have to hold onto his shoulders in order to stop your body from sliding down.

Spencer stands up and pushes you against a bathroom sink - still fully clothed - and unzips his dress pants. “Already fucked out and I only made you come once. Let’s see how much more you can take,” he says and the words sound like heaven in your ears. Finally he’s giving you what you want. You pull him closer to you by his tie, clawing at his suit as an excuse to touch him and opening your legs as far as you can with him pinning you against the sink.

Your back hurts a little bit, but you couldn’t care less. He strokes his cock first before running it through your folds, teasing you yet again. “Spencer, please,” you whimper and he leans down to kiss you. “Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, acting oblivious. “Just fuck me already,” you say, pressing against him. “Eager, aren’t we?” he chuckles and hits your clit with his tip. You moan and pull him closer against you. He takes the opportunity and thrusts into you.

Your eyes roll back in pleasure. He is so hard, his cock so thick and hot, you feel like you’re going to die from the intense pleasure. The more you moan, the more intense his movements became. Rougher, deeper, faster, like he was punishing you. You can feel him throb inside you, hitting your g-spot again and again and again, his hand sneaking toward your ass.

A few more thrusts, and you can feel the second orgasm already climbing up from your toes to the rest of your body. You moan louder and he thrusts deeper inside of you. "Close" you whimper and he picks up his speed. “Me too,” he pants and you clench around him. It sends you over the edge, your orgasms hitting both of you hard. You can feel his warm, thick cum in spurts inside of you, and your eyes close due to the overwhelming feeling.

He continues to fuck you through it and you swear you never felt pleasure like this before. Your whole body is shivering and you have to hold onto him yet again. “So good,” you breath out and he smiles back, looking so heartbreakingly beautiful that for a moment, it occurs to you that you might never recover from this man. Not that you ever want to.

You stay in the position for a while, both of you recovering from the intense orgasms you just had. Your skin burns, your pulse pounds in your ears. You lean against the wall, breathing heavily. Then he suddenly leans forward, picking up your dress and your panties. He helps you putting your panties back on before he zips the dress up slowly, careful not to hurt you.

He adjusts the dress on your body, his fingers casually brushing your thighs, gliding over the line of your waist. But there's tension in his posture. An unspoken residue in the air. "Do you think he could have done that?" he asks again. Your body is still trembling slightly, your legs barely stable. You exhale, short, brittle, and take just enough strength for an honest, quiet word. "No..."

He stays behind you for a moment. You feel his gaze on your neck, his breath on your skin. Then he pushes a strand of hair back from your face and kisses you. "Good." Then he looks at you with a gaze that undresses you again even though you've just put your clothes back on. "We're going home now." A pause. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You are still able to walk, which means I’m far from done with you tonight.”

-

Taglist: @reidswifeyyyyyy

[demie90s]

Hear me out 👐🏽

I don’t like Caitlin Clark like that but your last fic ate 🤏🏽 and it doesn’t help that I won’t believe she’s 100% straight till it’s on paper soo…

disrespectful fem reader who doesn’t gaf about Caitlin’s “lil boyfriend” and is loud about it. Ig posts, lives, comments, mic’d up, phone case and wallpaper, doesn’t care. Until, there’s a scare on the court and reader very literally tells him to get tf away from her girl and leave. CC’s not hurt fr and was waiting on the day, so smut…. and maybe reader leaks audio and tags him.

Anyways, ly so bad 😘💍

(I can’t lie I love that white girl whos “in love” witch c*nn*er🤷🏾‍♀️)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞ha𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

Caitlin Clark x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐑���𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~ 7.2k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT. 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.

The first time I went viral for Caitlin, I wasn’t even trying.

I was minding my damn business, walking out the damn mall with a smoothie and a fan asked for a picture. I’m smiling—cute, laid-back, black zip-up halfway down my chest, edges laid, nails fresh.

They post it later, all sweet, tagging me and talking about how nice I was. But baby the comments weren’t about my kindness. They zoomed in on the lockscreen showing up in the reflection of my phone case. Clear as day.

Miss Caitlin Clark.

Mid-laugh. In her jersey. Hair a mess like she been sweating, biting her lip. I knew exactly which photo it was too, cause I’m the one who took it. She didn’t even post it. I just keep it for myself.

“Oh is that Caitlin on your wallpaper?” one of the replies said.

I quote-tweeted that shit and said,

“Duh. That’s my girl. Y’all just ain’t catch up yet.”

I said that. And I meant it.

Now let me be very clear: I’m not subtle. I never have been. Especially not when it come to Caitlin. I don’t care about her lil boyfriend—I call him that on purpose. “Lil boyfriend.” Cause that’s what he is. Lil.

I’ve known Caitlin since college. Back when I was just starting to get traction on socials and she was already lighting girls up on the court like it was clockwork. We met at some event—Nike, I think. She was polite. A little awkward. Tall. Pretty as hell. I said something slick, she blushed, and I been hooked ever since.

But fast forward to now. She play for the Indiana Fever and I’m a full-blown influencer. Verified. Booked. Busy. Bad. And bold as hell. I got brand deals, podcasts, interviews, and a whole fanbase that knows one thing for sure:

I want Caitlin Clark. And I don’t care who knows it.

———————————————————————————————

Go to my Instagram and scroll. You’ll see the usual influencer stuff—outfits, events, gym selfies. But mixed in are straight-up love letters.

Photo of me in a Fever hoodie? Caption:

“I wear it for her. Not y’all.”

A pic of Caitlin mid-game, sweat on her brow, mouthguard between her lips?

“Y’all ever seen art in motion? I have.”

A reel of me courtside, zooming in on her pre-game warmup while I sip a smoothie?

“The smoothie not why I’m here. Zoom in.”

That’s my energy. Every time.

I’ll be on Live, mic’d up during an event, casually talking shit and then say something wild like, “Caitlin could literally elbow me in the jaw and I’d still say thank you.” Fans eat it up every time.

“Yo you really don’t care she got a man?”

“Girl …what man? Ohhh you mean her lil boyfriend?” I’ll squint like I forgot he existed. “That’s cute. Hope he enjoying his time while it lasts.”

I said on a podcast once—and I quote—

“That girl got records, awards, and him. She deserve better on all three.”

And don’t get me started on the games.

I show up courtside. Outfit damn near hand-picked for her. Face beat, lips glossed, thighs out, hair slicked back, nails red. And no matter what, win or lose, she comes to me first.

She’ll jog over, give me that tired little grin and I’ll open my arms like I’m hers. Cause I am. The hug is always too long. Always too soft. Always lowkey romantic. My hand on her lower back. My mouth near her ear. She never pulls away first.

You’ll hear the reporters calling it a “sweet friendship.” Baby, I’m hugging her like I’m about to propose.

When we’re on Live together—rare but gold—she don’t talk much. Not on camera. She’s shy like that. I’m all in her space. Laying under her arm like a pillow. Holding the phone from her lap. Whispering slick shit with a grin.

“You wanna say hi?” She shakes her head. I kiss her cheek.

“She shy. It’s okay y’all. My girl gets nervous when the lights come on.”

She be blushing, hiding her face, whispering “stop.” And I don’t. I never do.

One night, I was on Live solo, just chilling, answering questions, and someone said, “Drop the wallpaper.” I flipped the camera real slow and showed my phone: same damn photo of her, but this time with a little heart scribbled on it in white pen. I said nothing. Just smiled.

They lost their minds. Comments flooded in.

“YOU SICK.”

“NAH YOU REAL BOLD.”

“GIRL SHE GOT A MAN.”

“AND I GOT A LOCKSCREEN. Next.”

You see, it’s not even just thirst. It’s appreciation. I admire her. The way she moves. The fire in her eyes when she’s in the zone. The bite of her sarcasm when she’s tired of being humble. The way she laughs when I say something stupid. The softness that’s only for me. That tension between us It’s real.

Yeah, maybe I’m not technically her girl—but tell me who else she look for first. Who else she hug like that. Who else she lets touch her face like I do. It ain’t him.

I’m bold. I’m open. I’m disrespectful if you wanna call it that. But if Caitlin ever says the word?

That’s mine. Full stop.

She stands in front of the mirror, arms slightly raised, her white top barely covering her waist as she frowns at her reflection and smooths the fabric over her stomach. “Do you think this is too much?” she asks, twisting side to side, not even looking at me.

I’m perched on the edge of her bed, elbows on my knees, lip between my teeth, chewing like that’s the only thing stopping me from doing something irreversible.

Too much? She could wear a grocery bag and still be too much. She’s too much for the room, too much for the night, too much for him. My silence answers before I do.

She glances back over her shoulder. “Too much, huh?”

“You’re exquisite,” I say like it’s a fact. Like she’s not asking for an opinion but a label. And if she is, that’s the one. Not cute. Not bad. Not sexy.

Exquisite.

I don’t even say it loud. I just let it slip like it’s been hanging on the tip of my tongue for months and finally got tired of waiting. She blushes. I smile.

She turns back around, adjusting the strap on her shoulder. The face she’s making in the mirror isn’t focused. It’s soft. Unthinking. Like she’s somewhere else. She hums under her breath and taps at her lip gloss tube, and that’s when I move.

I stand. My steps are slow, careful, but not unsure. She doesn’t flinch when I walk up behind her—doesn’t even blink. My hands hover at her waist for a second, fingers twitching like they’ve been aching for this, and when I finally touch her, it’s too soft to be casual. But I pretend.

I pretend I’m just helping. Just checking the fit. Just smoothing the fabric like she asked. But really I just want to feel her.

My palms drag along her sides, my chest hovering just an inch from her back. I lower my head slightly, close enough to smell the perfume blooming off her skin like heat. My nose brushes her shoulder when I inhale.

“You smell expensive,” I murmur, voice thick.

She giggles. “You helped me pick this one.”

I did. Because I knew what it would do to me. Her lip gloss is barely set when I lean in, but I kiss her anyway. Not on the cheek. Not on the forehead. Right on the mouth.

It’s not even greedy. It’s slow. Like I’m trying to memorize her. Just a sample. Just a test of how much I can take without crossing that final line. She doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t tense up. She keeps talking—says something about maybe changing into a different skirt—but I’m not listening.

I kiss her again. And again.

Soft. Focused. Mouth parting around hers just enough to steal the taste she’s too generous with. I kiss her like I’ve been waiting for her to shut up for three years. And when she leans back against the dresser to finish doing her mascara?

I follow.

My fingers trace the waistband of her skirt while my chin brushes the top of her shoulder. Her lashes flutter in the mirror. Her lips shine like they’re begging for trouble. I lean in close, eyes fixed on her mouth, and whisper:

“You’re really gonna let him take you out lookin’ like this?”

She gives me a side-eye, playful. “He asked me, not you.”

I tilt my head and press another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “He didn’t ask the right questions.”

She licks her lips out of habit, and I nearly lose it. I reach up and hold her jaw lightly, tilting her face to me, not rough, but enough to make her listen. My thumb brushes the gloss that’s already starting to smudge.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” I murmur.

“Like what?”

“Like I won’t ruin all that makeup for no good reason.”

She laughs softly, and I bite my lip, trying to behave. But then I kiss her again. This time with teeth. I catch her bottom lip, pull it gently between mine, and let it go slow. Deliberate.

That’s when the knock comes. Once. Then again, louder. Neither of us moves. I’m still kissing her. Still pressed behind her like she’s mine and always has been.

But when the third knock comes, I let her go. Slowly. I don’t even look at the door.

“You gonna get that?” I ask, but I’m already walking.

She turns halfway, breathless, dazed. Lip gloss kissed halfway off. I beat her to the door.

I open it wide and step into the doorway. He’s standing there with flowers—standard, tired. Collared shirt. Dumb look on his face like he wasn’t just interrupting the best part of her night.

“Hey,” he says, smiling like he didn’t hear the shift in the air.

I don’t smile back. I don’t even blink at him. I lean toward her, pressing a kiss to her cheek—not a light one. My hand brushes her hip. I don’t look at her when I say, “Have fun, honey.”

Then I turn to him, finally smiling as I walk past.

“Don’t fuck it up,” I say sweetly, almost singing it.

He steps back awkwardly. I get into my car like I didn’t just kiss his girlfriend like she was mine and he was late to the party. I drive off slow, grinning. Let her go on her lil date.

She’ll be thinking about me the whole time.

It was just past nine when my phone lit up.

I was already up. Still in my hoodie and sweats, sitting on the couch half-watching a movie I wasn’t really paying attention to. My TV was glowing, a bowl of cold takeout sitting on the table, barely touched. The kind of night where you don’t want nothing but peace—and I could tell from the way her name popped up on my phone that peace was the one thing she didn’t have.

Can you come get me?

Five words. But it hit like something else.

She never says that. Caitlin’s stubborn, borderline hardheaded. She stays through shit she shouldn’t, just to say she tried. She don’t fold unless she’s already halfway broken—and her messages are usually short, dry, typed fast. But this one? It felt… soft. Sad. Like something in her was slipping.

I didn’t text back. I just grabbed my keys and left.

Didn’t even fix my hair. Just slid my slides on and drove. The location dropped in the next message, right as I hit the streetlight.

I pulled up slow. Real low. Parked a little crooked but I didn’t care. I saw her before she saw me. Standing outside the restaurant like the night had spit her out and didn’t know what to do with her. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Makeup still fresh but eyes too glossy. Her boyfriend—‘Connor’ was standing a few feet behind her, glaring hard like I stole something. Like she hadn’t asked me to be here.

He was talking, trying to convince her to go back inside. I saw the way he leaned in. Desperate. Embarrassed. Like he knew he fucked up but still wanted to control the cleanup.

“Caitlin, people are looking—seriously, just come back inside. We can talk—” I stepped out the car.

She turned the second she saw me. Her whole body softened like it forgot how to hold tension. And him? He tensed up immediately, puffed his chest a little. Like I was gonna fight him or something. Like I had to.

I didn’t say anything to her yet. Just looked at him with the same deadpan expression I save for people who don’t know when they’ve lost.

“Go inside, Connor,” I said, calm and bored. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”

He scoffed. “She’s my girlfriend.” I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow.

“Then why she call me?”

He didn’t answer. Just stood there, like he wanted to throw something but didn’t have the nerve. Caitlin didn’t even look at him. She walked straight past, straight to me. I opened the car door and held it.

“You okay?” I murmured once she slid in. She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.

Once I got behind the wheel, I reached over and took her phone from her lap. She didn’t protest. I didn’t even unlock it—I just held it.

“Why’d you take my phone?” she asked, voice soft, almost playful.

“Cause the internet’s fast, and you don’t need to see what they’re saying tonight.”

She went quiet. Her legs were tucked up against the seat, like she was trying to curl herself out of existence. She’d gone to practice early, showered, lotioned, got dressed, did her hair, maybe even shaved. She thought she was gonna have a nice night. She gave him the benefit of the doubt.

And he said what? “I’m not jealous. You’re my girlfriend and she’s all over you!”

The way she told it, he said it like he was the victim. Like she was the one who had been wildin’. Like me being obsessed with her was her fault.

I drove in silence. Her house wasn’t far, but I took the long way. No music. No phone. Just my hand resting lightly on the gearshift and the occasional sigh from her side.

When we got there, she didn’t wait for me. She unlocked the door and went straight to her room. I followed after a second, slow, calm, like I didn’t already want to go back and run him over.

By the time I walked in, she was already changing. Peeling off her little date outfit like it made her skin itch. She didn’t say anything—just threw on a big shirt, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers over her lap. Her back hit the headboard. She blinked at the ceiling like it had something to say.

I leaned against the dresser and waited. I wasn’t gonna force her to talk. But she did.

“I knew he wasn’t right for me,” she said finally. “I knew that. I felt it. But I thought… maybe he’d try harder.”

I stayed quiet. Let her go.

“It wasn’t even a real date. He didn’t plan it. We just ended up there. And then outta nowhere he starts talking about you like I’m cheating or something. Like I can’t have any friends or fans or people who love me. Like I’m supposed to apologize for being wanted.”

She scoffed, wiping her eye before anything could fall.

“He said I liked the attention. That I let you get too close.”

I crossed my arms.

“Did you tell him I let you take me to bed twice already? Since we’re telling truths?”

I grinned, couldn’t help it. “No. I’ll leak it later.”

That made her smile, just a little.

She sighed. “I don’t know what I expected. I just… I’m tired. Like I had the whole night planned in my head. Showered. Shaved. Bought new lotion. Let my hair air dry so it would do that soft thing you like. I really did all that just to get yelled at by a man in a Polo shirt.”

I walked over slow, sat at the edge of the bed. My hand reached for hers under the blanket and squeezed.

“Hey….You still smell amazing.”

“Shut up.”

“Nah. You do. Smell like vanilla, and stress.”

She laughed again, the first real one. I looked over at her face—bare, clean, tired. No lashes, no gloss. Still the most beautiful thing I’d seen all year.

“You should sleep,” I said softly.

She shook her head. “I’m too awake. All that energy for nothing. Now I’m stuck like this.”

I leaned back on my elbows and nodded toward her. “Then don’t sleep. Just be. I’m not goin’ nowhere.”

She looked at me like I was too good. Like she didn’t understand how I could sit here calm while she unraveled. But she didn’t ask. She just slid closer, her shoulder touching mine, and finally exhaled.

That’s when I knew— C*nn*r might’ve had the title. But I had everything else.

I know this house like the back of my hand.

Know where she keeps her throw blankets. Know which one of the bathroom drawers holds her extra hair ties and her retainer case. Know which of the light switches hum when you flick ‘em on too fast.

Know that the little chip on her nightstand came from a bracelet she broke during warmups last season—and she still hasn’t thrown it out.

I know this house. And I know her.

So when I crawl into her bed next to her, I don’t ask. I just do it. Slow. Quiet. Familiar. I lay on my side and wait, letting the silence settle like dust. Letting her breathe.

She looks exhausted, emotionally and physically—skin still warm from the shower she took before that godforsaken date. Her hair’s pulled back loose. Her lips are bare. And her face?

That pretty little face. All Sad. But not broken. No. Not while I’m here.

I shift closer, inch by inch, until my leg brushes hers under the blanket and she lets me stay. Her eyes flutter toward me, curious, a little dazed, but not surprised. Never surprised. This is what I do. I come when she needs me. Even when she don’t know how to ask.

“You look pretty,” I murmur, barely above a whisper. I press a kiss to her jaw. She hums like she doesn’t believe it.

“Like you always do,” I add, brushing her cheekbone with my thumb before kissing that too.

Another kiss. Closer to the corner of her mouth now.

“I mean, it’s honestly kinda unfair,” I say between kisses, the words getting slower, smoother, like syrup. “You out here lookin’ like this… and that man really had the audacity to be jealous of me?”

She laughs under her breath, biting her lip like she’s trying not to.

I kiss the dip beneath her ear. “Tell me how he thought he was gon’ keep you while being this damn insecure. Tell me how that math was ever gon’ add up.”

She shakes her head. Doesn’t speak. But her eyes close, her chest rises a little deeper, and I know it’s working.

She needed this. Not just comfort. Not just the soft hands and the gentle voice. She needed someone to say it. So I do.

“He’s not built for you.” Kiss.

“Never was.” Kiss.

“Soft hands. Weak spirit. Loud mouth.” Now I’m kissing the side of her neck, letting my words warm her skin.

“Don’t even know how to handle a woman who shines this hard. Thought possession meant protection. Thought control meant care.”

Her body’s relaxing, slowly—melting into the mattress like she’s finally allowed to exhale. I drag a hand up her thigh, over the blanket. Just tracing.

“You not hard to love, Caitlin. You just need someone with the range.”

She opens her eyes.

“You think you got that kind of range?” she whispers. I grin.

“Baby, I invented it.”

She laughs, and that’s the sound I was waiting for. Soft. Sleepy. Open. She lifts her hand and lets it rest over mine. I move closer. Chest to chest now. Nose brushing hers.

“You want me to stop?” She shakes her head.

“You sure?”

“Please don’t.”

So I don’t.

I kiss her again. But slower now. No rush. Like I’m savoring her. Letting her know this ain’t some rebound comfort—this is the real thing. My hand cups her jaw, thumb stroking under her ear. She sighs into my mouth, fingers grabbing the front of my hoodie like she needs something to hold on to.

The kiss deepens. Warmer. Hungrier. Still slow, but heavy with intent. I pull back just enough to whisper, “You feel that?”

She nods.

“That’s not pity. That’s not fixing. That’s just me wanting you. Needing you.”

My hand slips under her shirt, palm pressed flat against her stomach. She gasps just a little. Not because I’m moving fast, but because I’m not. Because I’m touching her like I got all night—and like I don’t plan on sharing a single second of it with anybody else.

“He don’t get to know this side of you,” I say against her neck. “Don’t get to see how you bite your lip when you’re turned on. Don’t know how your voice gets high and breathy when you want more but don’t know how to ask.”

I kiss her again. She’s trembling just a little now.

“Connor gets the version of you that makes reservations. I get the version that ruins sheets.”

She lets out a soft moan and I smile, proud and smug and already ready to keep going. But I pause. My mouth hovers over hers, breath hot, lips close enough to graze.

“You sure, baby?”

She nods once, then again faster. “Yes. I’m so sure.”

I kiss her until she forgets he even existed. No rush. No fumbling. Just me moving like I been waiting to unwrap this moment for years. Her shirt’s already halfway up, my hoodie’s on the floor, and my hand is resting high on her thigh, warm, heavy, unmoving—like a promise.

She’s laid out beneath me, breath catching in soft pulses. Legs parting slow like instinct, not hesitation. I’m so close, but I don’t take. I don’t even ask. I guide.

“Touch me,” she whispers, voice already soaked in something deeper than want. Something close to surrender.

I tilt my head. “Where?”

She blushes, tries to hide her face. I don’t let her. I gently grab her chin and tilt it back up.

“Where, Caitlin?”

She swallows hard. “Anywhere.” I grin. That’s what I thought.

I reach for her again—hands tracing up her sides beneath her shirt, lifting it inch by inch until I can slide it over her head. She lets me, eyes locked to mine, hair wild now, breathing shallow. I toss the shirt behind me and press one last kiss to her collarbone before speaking again.

“You mind if I record?” I say it soft. Respectful. My thumb strokes the dip just below her navel. “No face. Just sound. Just for me.”

She bites her lip, cheeks pink, and nods. “Only if I can hear it after.”

I smirk, reaching for my phone with one hand while the other stays planted on her hip. “Oh, baby… you gon’ feel it after.”

I hit record, prop it just beside the pillow, angled low, subtle. She watches with curiosity, lips parted, body already twitching under the weight of anticipation.

Then I drop down. And when I say drop—I drop. Kisses trail down her stomach, slow and steady. She arches slightly when I pause at her waistband, and I look up with a question in my eyes. She nods. I pull.

Her underwear comes off slow, dramatic, soaked. I kiss both thighs first. One, then the other. Then I just sit there for a second, kneeling between her legs like I’m praying.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” I whisper, dragging my hands up the inside of her thighs, keeping her wide.

I mean it. I always do. But tonight…The words are dripping from my mouth like honey. Like prophecy. Like Caitlin was carved out of something holy and mine.

I lean in and kiss her pussy like it’s her mouth. Yes. Kiss. Like that. Not a lick. Not a tease. An actual kiss.

I let my lips press slow and full against her clit—mouth open, pressure intentional, like I’m saying I see you. I feel you. I claim you.

She gasps. Loud. Sharp. I feel her hands grab at the sheets beside her. Then my shoulders. Then my hair. I kiss again.

And again.

Softer. Then harder. Letting my lips move in slow, perfect pulses. Sucking just enough. Breathing hot enough. Letting her twitch under the weight of it.

“F-fuck,” she whispers, voice cracking already. “That’s… that’s not fair.”

I pull back, smirk, kiss her inner thigh. “Not trying to be fair, baby. I’m trying to fuck you up.”

Then I go back in.

This time, tongue out. Mouth wide. Lips sealed around her clit like it’s the only thing on Earth I was born to taste. And I stay there. Let her ride it. Let her feel me.

She’s moaning now. Not the cute kind. The rattled kind. Back arched, one hand on the back of my head, the other lost in the comforter.

“You okay?” I murmur, fingers rubbing her outer lips slow, circling.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“You wanna cum like this? Just from my mouth?”

“Please. Please.”

Say less.

I grip her thighs, bury my face, and eat like I got dinner and dessert waiting between her legs. I hum against her, vibrating her open. My nose brushes just above her clit while my tongue stays locked in slow, wide strokes—lapping, kissing, tasting. I don’t rush. I build.

She starts shaking first. Then whining.

Then gasping, “Oh my God. Oh my—fuck, fuck, please don’t stop—”

She tries to pull away. Her hips lift. Her thighs squeeze. I don’t move. I press her down with one arm, hold her still with the other, and keep going.

“I got you,” I say between kisses, between licks. “I got you. Let it go.” She does.

It hits her like lightning. Her legs quake. Her back arches. She cries out so loud, I glance at the phone mid-moan just to be sure it’s catching all of it.

She cums hard, mouth open, hair fanned across the pillow, voice broken on my name. I don’t stop until her hand taps my shoulder—shaky, soft, and damn near useless.

Even then. I press one last kiss to her clit. Tender. Like a signature. Then I crawl back up, tongue dragging up her stomach, mouth brushing her chest. I press my lips to her throat, her cheek, her mouth—kissing her like she’s a miracle I’m allowed to taste.

“You hear that?” I whisper in her ear, reaching for the phone to let her listen. She nods, dazed.

“That’s what you really sound like,” I murmur. “Not the version he knows. The one that belongs to me.”

She turns, eyes glassy, and kisses me slow. She doesn’t say it out loud. But she doesn’t have to. She’s mine. Everyone knows.

She’s still breathing heavy. Still twitching under the sheets. Glazed, breathless, skin flushed and damp like she just got baptized in pleasure. Because she did.

I’m watching her. Watching the way her chest rises and falls. The way her thighs try to close on instinct but keep shaking too much to stay shut. Her hand is limp on my chest, nails still marked from clawing at me.

I kiss her again. Just once. Just soft enough to make her smile, and just hard enough to remind her that I’m nowhere near done.

“You good?” I ask, voice low. Gravel-thick.

She nods. “Too good.”

I smirk, brushing her hair off her face. “Mm. Not even close to done with you yet.”

She laughs, then gasps when I slide my fingers right back between her thighs, slow and easy.

“Oh my—”

“Yeah. You not done,” I murmur, dipping a single finger into her, dragging it slow, curling it like I know her body better than she do. “You just warming up, baby.”

Her legs twitch open again on instinct. And I swear to God she moans just from my fingers crooking slow.

“You feel that?” I whisper, thumb brushing her clit.

“Uh-huh—”

“Like your body missed me. Like it knew what it needed and just waited.”

She tries to talk but I add a second finger and that’s a wrap. She chokes on her moan. I kiss her shoulder. Her neck. Her jaw. My other hand rubs slow circles at her thigh while I curl deep and slow and thick inside her.

“You gon’ let me slut you out tonight?” I whisper into her mouth.

Her eyes roll a little. “Y-yeah—”

“Nah, say it. I wanna hear it.”

She whines. “Slut me out.”

“Louder.”

“Slut me out.”

I bite her lip. “That’s my girl.”

Then I reach for the nightstand drawer. That drawer. She sees me open it, sees the black strap—clean, fresh, already waiting like I knew I was gonna work her tonight. Because I did.

I hold it up, eyebrow raised. She nods fast, grabbing the sheets like she needs it.

“I gotchu,” I whisper. “I’mma put your ass to work.”

She giggles but it’s shaky now—nervous-horny. The best kind. I get up slow, kiss my way down her body again just to prove a point. Then I strap up. Real casual. Real slow. She’s watching me the whole time, lips parted, legs still trembling.

I crawl back on the bed.

“Get up,” I say.

She blinks. “W-what?”

“Up. On all fours.”

She does. Fast. Ass arched, back dipped, face down. I run my hand over her spine, grip her hips and guide her back until she’s lined up perfectly.

I slide in slow. Like I’m proving something. Like I want her to feel every inch.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, dropping her head. “Fuuuck—”

I start slow. Deep. Lazy strokes. My hands firm on her hips, pulling her back into me, letting her feel the weight and stretch with every push.

“You feel that?”

“Y-yes—yes—”

“You took me so well. Look at you. So nasty for me.”

I lean down, grip her hair, pull it just enough to lift her head.

“You don’t need no man, Caitlin. You just need me. That mouth. That stroke. That pressure.”

She moans louder, rocking back against me like her body knows it’s mine now.

“You love this shit, don’t you?”

“Yes—fuck yes—”

I pick up pace. That rhythmic sound of hips slapping, her voice rising with every thrust, her fingers clawing at the sheets like she’s about to levitate.

“You gon’ cum for me again?”

“Mmhmm—”

I reach around and rub her clit while fucking into her like I own her soul. The way she cries out makes my whole chest tighten. She’s trying to run, and I won’t let her.

“Nah, don’t run. Take it.”

She falls apart again—loud, shaking, begging. Her body collapses forward and I follow, pressing her into the bed, grinding deep.

“That’s it. That’s mine.”

She nods. “Yours.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours.”

I slow down. Not because I’m done—but because I wanna flip her over. See her face when I break her again.

“On your back.”

She obeys, eyes glossy, lips red, chest rising too fast. I kiss her slow as I slide back in—face to face now, strap bottoming out, her nails digging into my back.

I fuck her slower now. Deep. Intentional. Like she’s the only person alive and this is how we breathe. Her moans get quieter but heavier. Her mouth falls open.

“Fuck me,” she whispers. “Please.”

“You already know what I’m doing.”

Her legs wrap around me. I bury my face in her neck, fucking her like I love her. And maybe I do. Because the way I say her name when she cums again—that didn’t sound like casual. She moans and it’s not cute anymore.

It’s raw. Guttural. Desperate.

I’m moving slow, hips grinding against her with that deep, circling stroke that feels like I’m carving myself into her. Not fucking—etching. Like every motion is a signature. Like I want her to feel this tomorrow and the day after and the rest of her fucking life.

My chest is pressed against hers. Her legs wrapped around my waist. And she’s naked now—finally—cause I pulled her shirt over her head mid-thrust, kissing every inch I uncovered. Her chest, her collarbone, her stomach, those nipples she swears are too sensitive but beg for attention anyway. She’s glistening under me, skin damp, back arched, face twisted in pleasure that’s starting to make her cry.

I ain’t even surprised. A good woman like this. Deserves to be loved so good it feels like grief.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” I murmur against her lips, wiping the tear from her cheek with my thumb before kissing her again.

She gasps as I hit that spot again—slow, angled just right, strap digging deep and thick while I keep my other hand rubbing her clit in the rhythm only I know.

Her breath hitches. Eyes wide.

“Oh my God—”

“You feel that, huh?” I growl against her neck. “Feel that real pressure?” She nods, frantic, too fucked out to speak.

“You ever cum like this before?”

“N-no,” she sobs. “N-never like this—”

“Course not,” I whisper, voice all satin and smoke. “That lil’ boy don’t know what to do with you. Can’t even spell clit.”

She cries harder, but it’s not sadness—it’s overwhelm. Joy. Release. She’s gripping my back like I’m the edge of the world.

“You mine now, huh?” She nods.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours—I’m yours, I swear—don’t stop—”

“Yeah,” I breathe.

I give it to her. With intention. With the kind of love that ain’t always soft, but never cruel.

I speed up just a little—enough to make her eyes roll and her mouth fall open. I’m gripping the back of her thigh now, pulling her open wider, tilting my hips to hit that angle that makes women fall in love.

She grabs the sheets. Starts babbling.

“I can’t—oh my God I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“You not tapping out on me, baby. You asked for this.”

Her thighs start to shake. Her whole body locks. I slow it down—just a little—to feel the way she clenches around the base of the strap, soaking wet, dripping down her thighs and my stomach. The sheets are already a mess, but I keep going.

“Breathe,” I whisper. “Just breathe.” She tries. Fails.

I lean back and look at her—really look. Sweat on her chest, tears on her cheeks, lips swollen from how many times I’ve kissed her stupid. And I swear to God, just looking at her like this makes my whole body tighten.

She’s perfect. And I’m nasty enough to love every fucking second of watching her come undone.

“Look at me,” I say, voice lower now. She does. Barely.

“You so pretty when you cry.”

Her body jerks—she loves that shit.

“You need to cum again?” She nods so fast it’s almost a sob.

“Good.” I pull out slow, then slide back in with one deep, wet thrust.

And then—it happens. A full-body shake. Her legs kick, her back lifts, and then a wave of wetness hits my stomach and thighs. Her eyes widen in shock. Her mouth drops open like she can’t believe it.

“Oh my God—did I—?”

“You just squirted” I whisper, grinning against her ear. “That’s what happens when someone actually knows how to fuck you.” She’s crying harder now—happy, overwhelmed, high off it.

“Connor ain’t never made you cum, did he?”

She shakes her head, tears streaming. “Never like this—never came with him—”

“That’s cause you ain’t never been loved right,” I growl. “Not like this. Not by me.”

I rock into her one more time—slow, deep, soaking in the ruin I’ve made of her—and she folds around me, wrapping her arms tight around my back like she needs to keep me in her, like letting go would kill her.

She cums again. Clutches me. Moans my name. I hold her through it, smiling like the devil in satin.

“Water,” I whisper.

She mumbles something sleepy.

“I ain’t ask.” I put the straw to her lips. “Sip.”

She drinks, slow. Then leans back with a sigh that could make a woman cry. Caitlin fell asleep with my name still on her lips.

She was facing away from me, my hoodie drowning her frame, her breath even and soft, the tension finally bled from her muscles.

The sheets were fresh now—clean, warm, a little lavender in the air—and her body curled instinctively into mine as I pulled the blanket over us.

I stayed close, arm tucked around her stomach, my hand resting low on her abdomen like I was protecting something sacred.

Every now and then, she’d shift in her sleep, press further into me like she couldn’t settle unless I was wrapped around her. Like my body was the last safe place she had.

I didn’t sleep right away. I just watched her. Traced the back of her hand with my thumb. Kissed the shell of her ear when she whimpered through a dream.

I’d touched every inch of her that night—claimed her so thoroughly she was crying, squirting, holding onto me like salvation—and now here she was, resting like a baby in my arms.

She looked soft. Exhausted. At peace. And underneath it all, even after everything I’d done to her…she looked happy.

The next morning, she stretched before opening her eyes. The sunlight hit her face just right and I swear, I almost fell in love with her all over again.

Her voice cracked when she whispered “good morning,” still scratchy from all the moaning she’d done the night before, and I leaned in to kiss her shoulder before she could fully sit up.

“I feel so good,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“You look good” I answered, watching her slip from the bed with her legs still wobbly, her bare skin glowing beneath the hem of my hoodie. She

was humming, smiling for no reason, floating through the room like she’d just come back from a spa retreat, not a night of straight freaky, soul-bending sex.

She had a game that afternoon. She got ready slow, light on her feet, distracted but not nervous. I watched her lace her shoes, tuck her jersey into her shorts, mouth pressed into that little focused pout she always did.

I didn’t say much. Just sat on the bed, sipping water and grinning, because she looked like a walking victory.

But then—he showed up. Connor. Front row.

He was standing with flowers in his hand like they meant something. Like he hadn’t already lost. The second Caitlin saw him, something changed. Her shoulders stiffened. Her eyes dropped. That glow dimmed just a little. Not gone, but bruised.

I didn’t stand up. Not yet. Just watched. Waited. Then she fell.

It wasn’t serious—just a bad landing, a little twist of the ankle. But she stayed down longer than she should have, and that was enough to make people panic. Enough to make him jump out of his seat and yell her name like he was still allowed.

I stood up. Not fast. Not loud. But I moved and the whole air shifted. He tried to follow her toward the tunnel, but I stepped in front of him. Calm. Still chewing gum.

“She might need me,” he said, adjusting the flowers like that was his ticket through.

I tilted my head, smiling cold. “Boy..be fucking frl..she don’t need you.”

He opened his mouth again, but I was already over it. “Go home bud. You lost.” His jaw tensed. But I didn’t budge.

“She got me,” I added, just loud enough for him and the security guard next to him to hear. “And she don’t look like she missin’ you.” I left him standing there.

Walked to the tunnel where she was seated, trainers checking her ankle. She wasn’t crying—just breathing hard, clearly shaken. The second she saw me, her eyes softened.

“You good?” I asked, crouching low so we were eye-level.

She nodded. “Just a scare.”

“….I told him to get the fuck away from you.”

She blinked. Then smirked. “You didn’t.”

I leaned in, kissed her forehead. “I absolutely did.”

Her smile cracked all the way open. “Your insanely in love”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I know.

Later that night, she was curled up on her couch with her legs over mine, grapes in a bowl beside her, hair wet from a post-game shower, my hoodie still draped off one shoulder. She looked good. Like victory and sex and trouble, all in one.

I was sitting low on the floor, back against the couch, editing a post on my phone. One leg stretched out, her foot playing with my knee. She watched me scroll through the pictures—nothing explicit. Just the aftermath of last night.

Her hand gripping mine under a blanket. The food I fed her. A blurry pic of the back of her head as she laid out on the pillow. Then, the final slide: a short six-second audio clip from last night.

Her moan. Her voice. Me whispering, “That’s it. Just like that. Let it go.”

“You trust me?” I asked, glancing up.

She nodded slowly. “What are you about to do?”

“Post the…audio?” I ask casually.

She raises an eyebrow. “That audio?”

“Just a few seconds. And it’s the last slide. No face. No names.”

She laughs. “Let me hear it.”

I press play. It’s the part where she moans my name and cries out all soft, the bed creaking in the background. Her face flushes, but she smiles.

“Do it. Be toxic. I’m not stopping you.”

“Say less.”

Caption: “Imagine losing. I could never 🙃”

I tagged him. Only him. Caitlin saw the notification, stared at it for a second, then opened Instagram and commented: 🙄

I grinned. Wrapped around my girl. Where I belong.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you feat. TF 141

You call him cute

The safehouse is unusually quiet.

The kind of quiet that only comes after days of adrenaline and bloodshed.

The team’s scattered - Soap passed out on the couch with one boot off, Gaz humming to himself at the kitchen counter, Price somewhere on a call, probably reporting in.

Ghost? He’s in his corner.

That damn quiet corner he always claims - back to the wall, knee up, weapons sprawled out like a ritual. His mask’s still on, of course. He always keeps it on after missions, like he hasn’t quite put Ghost back in the box yet. The skull stares at nothing while his hands move with clean, mechanical precision.

You sit nearby, pretending to read something - maybe you're even holding a tablet - but your eyes are locked on him.

His gloves are off. That’s rare. You can see the way his fingers move over the metal, slow, careful, almost reverent. There’s so much focus in his silence, so much tension held in check.

And then it just... slips out.

A whisper. Barely audible. More breath than words, just for yourself.

“God, he’s so cute like this…”

It wasn’t meant to be heard.

It was meant to live and die in your chest.

But fate, as always, has other plans.

Soap moves on the couch - without even opening his eyes - “I’m sorry, what the hell did I just hear?”

Your heart stops.

You glance up in horror. Simon’s hands freeze mid-motion, a cloth paused on the slide of his rifle. He doesn’t move his head. Doesn’t say a word. But every inch of his body suddenly radiates death.

Gaz shouts from the kitchen, halfway through a bite - “No. Nooooo. Did she just call Ghost cute?” He turns, wide-eyed. “Like - adorable cute?”

Soap, already sitting up, absolutely delighted. “Oh this is gold. This is better than the time I caught him petting that stray cat in Belgrade.”

You whisper - desperate: “I - I didn’t mean it like that, I was just watching and he looked - ”

Gaz, grinning like the bastard he is. “Cute? Like a little focused murder goblin polishing his toys?”

Soap already mock-crying. “She broke him. Broke the killer. Ghost.exe has stopped responding.”

Ghost finally moves. Slowly. He finishes wiping the rifle, sets it down beside him with meticulous care, and then looks at you.

Not at them.

Just at you.

And his voice is dead calm.

“Cute, huh?”

You open your mouth. Close it again.

Soap's nearly hyperventilating in the background.

Gaz is egging him on. “Say it again. I want to see if his eye twitches.”

You hear Price’s voice from down the hall: “What in God’s name is going on out here?”

Soap is still cackling: “She called Ghost cute, Captain. While he was cleaning his weapon. Cute.”

Price takes a deep sigh. “Brilliant. Now he’s gonna kill one of you.”

Ghost’s voice cuts through it all. “You’ve got ten seconds to shut up.”

“BLOODY RUN, GAZ, HE’S COUNTING - ”

Soap grins. Gaz bolts.

Footsteps. Laughter. Chairs knocked over.

But Ghost still hasn’t looked away from you.

And under all that quiet fury - under the shame, the chaos, the mockery - there’s that tiny flicker in his eye. That glint that means something different. A quiet warmth.

He didn’t mind you saying it.

Just didn’t want anyone else to hear it.

You bite your lip.

He sighs, deep, low, resigned.

Mutters - only loud enough for you: “…Cute, fuckin’ hell…”

Then picks up the cloth and starts cleaning again, as if the entire building isn’t falling apart in the background.

[alanisstonedd]

caught mid-vibe

cw: fanum x black!reader, slightttt chubby!reader, masturbation [f receiving], pussy eating, raw p in v, toe suckinggg oops exposed, just nasty nasty nasty, dirtay talkin, BIG BOY vibe

an: i’m actually so sick for this nigga i wanna tackle him every time i see him on my screen

you swear you were trying to be patient.

he’d been streaming nonstop this week—events, collabs, a few marathon nights with kai and duke, content deadlines piling up.

and you? you just came off your damn period, hallelu!! howeverrr, it bad been awhile since any action came your way. you were kind of a mess hormones flaring. ovulating. needy.

the everything was making you throb recently. his voice from down the hall. his cologne lingering on the hoodie you were curled up in. the memory of the last time he really touched you.

so you figure… fuck it. just a quick one. you’re grown for fucks sake. you’re a big girl…. you can take care of yourself.

you crawl into his bed, grabbing your phone, nothing on but his hoodie and some panties. you click on twitter, dim the brightness, and slide a hand into your panties — already slick from the two seconds your boyfriend came in to grab his damn headset.

you not gonna go crazy or anything. just a lil relief before he’s done yelling “LOCK THE FUCK IN, CHAT” down the hallway.

but sadly, you don’t even hear the footsteps. and you definitely don’t notice the door swinging open until it’s wayyyy too late.

SLAM.

“YO—baby, you seen my—”, he stops in his tracks. you freeze too. your hand? still between your thighs, phone hanging in the other, just low enough for the screen to be visible.

he stands frozen in the doorway, jaw hanging down like fuckin bugs bunny, eyes locked on your soft brown legs spread across the sheets, hoodie bunched around your hips, panties pushed to the side, glistening pussy on display. you could hear his durag drop.

you blink, lips parted, no clue what the fuck hes about to say, “…bae—”. and then he just smirks. slow. wicked. walks in with a smugness about him and locking the door with a click.

“ooohhh, reallyyyy?”

you scramble upright. too shocked to know whether to apologize or stand on it, “waittttt—i didn’t know you was gonna—”

he creeps closer to the bed, pulling off his headset and tossing it on the chair without so much as a glance. “you was just gon’ start without me, ma?”

you swallow, mouth suddenly dryer than a bitch, a little scared of the look in his eye “i—i didn’t— bae—”

“didn’t what?” he’s muchhh closer now, his big frame dwarfing you over the bed. “didn’t think it mattered? didn’t mean to be laid out in my hoodie, tryna bust a nut like i don’t live here?”

you try to speak, but he’s already grabbing your ankle, and dragging you down the mattress until your ass is at the very edge of the bed.

hes yanking your legs apart, eyes dropping to your bare, slick folds. he can feel the heat coming off you from where hes standing, and its got his heart beating fast as fuck. he groans with his whole chest.

“mm-mm,” he shaking his head, tsking, quickly pulling your panties off the rest of the way. “now I gotta top whatever had you wilin'.”

he kneels. grabs one leg, and drapes it over his shoulder almost too easily. he spits on your pussy like it’s his. then that mf dives TF in, tongue first, and you basically scream — LOUD.

his mouth is so hot, tongue swirling so slow, deep, then fast as hell, like he’s making up for every hour you waited. like he’s fuckin offended you didn’t call for him.

he’s groaning into it. slurping. playin with his food. sucking your clit like a damn vacuum. his hand slips under your hoodie and grabs your soft belly, holding you down while you twitch and shake — moaning like you're possessed.

“mhmm. you ain’t need that video,” he murmurs against your folds. “you needed me.” you groan at that, arching into his mouth, "fuck— i didddd."

you cum so hard you almost lift fully off the mattress, both hands on his braids, pillowy thighs squeezing tight around his head.

but of course he doesn’t stop. he rides your orgasm out with his mouth still locked on you like glue, slurping up every drop, licking your clit like its for him, only letting up when you’re whining and pushing at his forehead.

he stands, grinning. licking his lips, like he only does when the food was too good, pulling his shirt off. “i told yo ass to wait for me.”

you dont even respond, too dazed. legs trembling. still clutching the sheets. then he flips you over, with a strength you ain't even know he has. you're face down. ass all the way up.

your — his — hoodie still on, all twisted at the waist. panties probably slung on his monitor. he drops his sweats justttt enough. you feel his belly brush your back first, that thick, heavy weight of him grinding up against your ass.

“still wet?” he mutters, dragging the head of his dick between your folds. “yeahhh, why wouldn't yo ass be..” he chuckles, sliding in slow and DEEP.

you can't help but sob into the pillow, feeling so stuffed. he moans behind you. “shit… pussy too good. hits the spot.”

his thrusts are heavy, full-body type, all his weight behind them, shaking the bed frame. his hands grip your waist, then slide down to your ass like he can't help it—grabbing, smacking, massaging between thrusts.

you feel his belly slap against your ass with every stroke, shoved up the bed with the force of a fully grown man.

“you needed this dick that bad, huh?” he pants. “couldn’t wait? had to fuck ya’self while i’m right down the hall like i ain’t been dreaming about this pussy all day?”

you try to answer but all you get out is “i— fuckkkkk— m' myGod—”

he pulls you up by the back of the hoodie, and holds you against his chest while still stroking deep into you from behind, his belly clapping up against your booty. he got one hand massaging your tit under the hoodie, rolling your stiff nipple in between his scorching hot hands. the other is around your throat, lips kissing at your jaw.

“y’know i gotchu, right?” he breathes. “anytime. any fucking place.” all the sudden you're completely empty, flipping onto your back. throwin' both legs up on his shoulders. hes folding you in half. “yeah— gotta remind you who this pussy belong to.”

he starts stroking even deeper now. slow but fucking brutal. you’re clawing at the sheets, crying, his belly pressing into yours like a bumper with every thrust, the bed audibly creaking beneath y'all.

he leans down and sucks at your pebbled buds like he needs them,. then hes leaning back up to wrap his lips around your toes. nasty. loud. sloppy. “unnhh— bae—please—i can’t—” completely unable to get more than a few words out around the punching of his dick reaching a place you could never.

“you got it mami—" he moans, pace picking up, practically chasing your pussy up the bed, “yeah— you got it—”. you cum again. he grins like a mad man. blown pupils locked on your face.

“you gon’ try that shit again, ma?” he asks, breathless. “you gon’ lay up in my bed with your hand in your panties while i’m two rooms over?”

you shake your head, still trembling. he laughs, softly nodding his head. “yeah… s' what i fuckin' thought.”. then he's leaning over to put your toes in his mouth some more. nasty. loud. sloppy.

hes slurping like he ain't just had your legs shaking from the deepest dick you’ve ever taken. his eyes flick up while your manicured toes flex against his tongue. you groan, breathless watching his tongue slip in between them.

“oh— i got you moanin’ from that?” he grins against your foot. “you such a nasty girl for me.” he laughs, his free hand smoothing over your sensitive nipples and down over your supple tummy.

you whimper, face flushed, breath ragged. “baby… i swear to God i can’t—”

he laughs. like you actually cracked a joke. “ma,” he pants, tongue still flicking at the tip of your toe, “you ain’t done. not yet at least.”

he drops your legs and slides out. you bite back a sob at the loss of him inside you. but before you can catch your breath—he flips you again. face smushed into the sheets. again.

he grabs a handful of all that ass, spreads you open with both hands, and spits. nasty and thick. it drips right down your folds— you can feel it— right over your clit, and he rubs it in with two thick fingers. slowly. teasing. like he knows hes doing it justtt right.

“wanted it so bad you fuckin' started without me,” he mutters, low. dangerous. “so now i'ma give it to you until you forget what the fuck you was even watchin’.”

he's sliding back in. and fucks you like it’s what he actually came upstairs to do. no build-up, no restraint. just deep, hungry, punishing strokes. clap. clap. clap.

your pussy's queefing around him, your face pressed into the sheets, drooling, tears wetting the pillow. he grabs your arms and pins them behind your back with one hand, the other pressing on the small of your back to arch you deeper.

“you feel that?” he growls. “feel how deep i'm in you? that’s exactly what you was missin’, huh?”. you cry into the mattress, hiccuping from the pressure, cramping somewhere you can't identify.

“say it.” he breathes, drilling you harder.

“i—i needed it, bae, i swear—”

“you need me,” he snarls, leaning down, teeth brushing your ear. “not no video. not no toys. me.” his hands are everywhere, squeezing at your booty, at your tits, tweaking your nipples, running down your back.

you nod frantically. “i need you—i do—”

he grabs your throat from behind, pulls you up again, his body flushed to your back, his stomach heavy and hot against you. he reaches around and starts rubbing your clit again, panting, mouthing at your shoulder.

its not soft. not teasing. its the most purposeful pressure you've ever felt. “you gon’ cum on this dick again,” he breathes, voice hot over your ear. “and you not gon’ stop til i tell you to.”. your moans fall the fuck apart. you’re begging now. pleading with him. that tight coil in your stomach threatening to snap again.

and it does. quick as fuck. you scream his name as you cum so hard your body jerks in his grip. seizing up, legs trembling, whole body wracked.

and his ass still doesn’t pull out. he strokes you through it. rubs you through it, so much pressure on your poor overstimulated clit. your hands scramble for some part of him—anything—to hold onto.

“shit…” he moans, slowing his harsh thrusts just enough to let your brain reboot. “you came so hard you almost ran from me.”

you try to speak. can’t get a word out, still so full, so you just sigh. he grins. “yeah… keep tryna do this shit without me... see how that works out.” he chokes out still fucking thrusting, like his life depends on it. then finally—finally— he cums with a deep, broken growl.

he slams in one last time, buried so deep you swear you feel it in your chest, his belly fitted into the deep arch in your back. you catch your breath as you feel the warmth fill you, and drip out so thick. he leans over, lips brushing your shoulder. still twitching inside you.

“now you're done.”

©  alanisstonedd 2025 — do not steal, plagiarise, or modify my content.

hope y'all liked this! comments, likes, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lana 💋💋💋

[deansbeer]

say it again ・ DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

୨୧ pairing. dean winchester x latina!reader.

୨୧ warning(s). smut | dirty talk | praise kink | dom!dean | power dynamics | unprotected sex (wrap it tf up) | slight degradation | language kink | rough sex | filthy motel sex.

୨୧ word count. 996

୨୧ kari notes. i woke up from my nap (it didn't even feel like a nap) and the first thing on my mind was dean. at first i wanted this to be something cutesy but i guess my mind went somewhere else <3

the motel room is a goddamn mess. not in the way most motels are, with their crusty carpets and cigarette burns in the comforters—though, yeah, it's got all that too. but this? this is a mess you made.

the air is thick with heat, with sweat, with the scent of sex clinging to the walls like it belongs there. the shitty blinds are drawn, but the neon sign outside flickers through the cracks, casting a dim, red glow over the bed where dean has you sprawled out beneath him.

the bed frame was already broken when you got here, so neither of you can take credit for that. but the squeaky-ass mattress? that's all you. every thrust he gives you makes the springs cry out, loud and needy, like a warning for anyone who dares pass by the room.

not that either of you care.

you're too busy falling apart beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back as he fucks into you, deep and slow, like he's got all the time in the world to ruin you. and shit, maybe he does.

his lips are at your neck, lazy and wet, teeth dragging over your pulse before he groans, voice all rough and wrecked. "fuck, baby, you feel so damn good—tight as hell, wrapped around me like you were made for it."

his words send a shiver down your spine, but you know what gets him going.

so you press your lips to his ear, voice dripping with heat, and start whispering filth in your second language—spanish rolling off your tongue like sin itself.

"te sientes tan bien, papi…" you gasp, nails dragging down his back as he thrusts deeper. "tan grande, llenándome como solo tú puedes."

dean shivers and his grip on your hips tightens, bruising, like he’s trying to hold himself together. "jesus christ, sweetheart."

you smirk against his skin, knowing exactly what you're doing to him. he's always told you how much he loves hearing you talk dirty in spanish, how it makes him harder than he thought was humanly possible. and right now, you can feel just how much he loves it—thick and throbbing inside you, stretching you out so perfectly.

his pace picks up, hips snapping against yours, and you moan, head tipping back against the pillows. the perfume you wore earlier—warm vanilla with a hint of spice—still lingers on your skin, overpowering the scent of sweat and sex in the air. it's intoxicating, and dean breathes you in, groaning as he buries his face in your neck.

"say that shit again," he pants, voice desperate, wrecked.

you obey, but this time, you make it filthier.

"me encanta sentirte así, tan profundo…" you whisper, tongue flicking against the shell of his ear. "you're fucking me so good, papi."

he growls—a deep, primal sound that makes your belly tighten with need. his hips slam into you, and you cry out louder, now clutching at his shoulders as he fucks you harder, deeper, chasing the high your words send through his veins.

"fuck—" he groans, losing himself in you. "you're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, baby."

you laugh, breathless, rolling your hips up to meet his thrusts. "then what a way to go, huh?"

his eyes darken, a smirk curling at his lips. "yeah?" he taunts, "then take it, sweetheart."

and you do. fuck, you do.

he pounds into you like he's got something to prove, like he needs to feel you break underneath him. and you are, moaning his name like a prayer, your body arching into his as pleasure builds, tightens, threatens to snap.

the motel bed shakes beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall, but all you can hear is the filthy sounds of skin on skin, the ragged breaths, the obscene creaking of the mattress as dean fucks you stupid.

his hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight, dirty circles that make your legs tremble around his waist. "c'mon, baby," he coaxes, voice dripping with heat. "cum for me—lemme hear you."

you're so close. so fucking close, and you know what'll push him over the edge right along with you.

so you grab his face, make him look at you, and let the words slip past your lips, low and sultry.

"quiero que me llenes, papi."

something in dean snaps.

his rhythm stutters, his grip bruises, and his head falls against your shoulder as a guttural moan rips from his throat. you feel him pulse inside you, hot and thick, spilling deep as he fucks you through it, dragging you right over the edge with him.

your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and electric, and you cling to him, back arching off the mattress as you cry out once more, nails sinking into his skin.

for a moment, there's nothing but the sound of ragged breathing, the occasional aftershock making your bodies jerk together. then, finally, dean lets out a breathy, fucked-out chuckle, collapsing onto the bed beside you.

"jesus fuckin' christ."

you laugh, rolling onto your side to look at him. his spiky hair is a mess, his skin is flushed, and there's a lazy, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"you good?" you tease, voice still hoarse.

he turns his head to look at you, eyes dark and hungry despite the fact that he just fucked you senseless.

"i need to hear you say it again," he murmurs.

you smirk, dragging a finger down his chest. "say what?"

his jaw clenches. "you know damn well what."

you hum, leaning in close, lips brushing over his ear as you whisper, "quiero sentirte otra vez."

dean groans, tossing an arm over his face. "you're gonna kill me."

you grin, pressing a kiss to his jaw. and just like that, he's on you again.

the bed frame might not have been entirely broken when you checked in—but by the time you’re done with it, it sure as hell will be.

[ncttytrack]

enha hyung lina getting caught fucking you but they don’t even stop cause they need to cum and destress

Ooo that scenareo is sooo hot anooon🫣

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨

ꕤ Heeseung is deep inside of you. His hand is on your hips, pushing you towards his body while he fucks into you, making him go deeper. When Heeseung is close, his thrusts don't turn sloppier, but harder and faster, trying to reach his high as fast as possible. "Fuck baby you are doing so good for me". When being this loud, you would’ve thought that his members had heard the two of you. That was until you saw Jay by the door with a gaping mouth. When Heeseung noticed that you were looking at something (or someone…) he looked in the same direction, only to get eye contact with Jay. You begg him to stop, hiding yourself with your arms when you notice Jay looking at your boobs. He doesn’t stop though, he is too close and continues to fuck you while he intensely looks at Jay. Omg he would also grab your chin and force you to look at him to make sure that you don't give Jay your attention. “Don’t look at him baby, look at me”. Because Heeseung is suuper protective over you, he would probably finally scream at him to “get the fuck out”. Jay would immediately run tf away.

ꕤ Jay would be so into the moment that he didn’t even notice Jake in the doorway. Poor Jake had left something in the dorm, and when he didn’t find it he wanted to ask Jay for help. The sight Jake saw was something he wished he could unsee. Jay fucked into you in such a massive phase, with a hand on your throat making you unable to let out any sound. “Does my nasty little whore like to be choked by daddy?” He would say as he spits you in your face. It was when Jay suddenly heard the bedroom slam when he understood that someone was watching, not that he actually cared, not stopping until he is done with you. "I'm not letting anyone get in my way". Would probably confront Jake afterwards for watching you, making sure that he didn’t get any ideas after. “No way I’m inviting you to a threesome”

ꕤ I could see Jake in two different ways tbh. He would either be completely different from Jay, knowing DIRECTLY when Sunghoon walked in on you two. Would probably ask him to join, getting off by the thought of his pretty girl getting fucked from behind by his best friend. Even if he did invite Sunghoon, or not, he would not give single fuck if Sunghoon saw him fucking you. The only thing he cares about is making you feel good, making you cum by the way he pounds into you. Lmao he would definitely cum into you while looking deep into Sunghoons eyes. “You wish that was you huh?” But I could also see Jake in total sub mode, being under you, begging you to let him cum. Sunghoon would stand still in total shock, having no idea that it was actually you that were dominant in the bedroom. Sunghoon would probably get turned on by it. If Jake saw Sunghoon he would’ve covered his face in embarrassment, shamelessly asking you to continue since he was too close for you to stop.

ꕤ Sunghoon. Damn. You already know how much of a piece of shit he would be to the person walking in. Heeseung was wearing headphones and wanted to ask Sunghoon something, not hearing what was going on behind the door. When he suddenly barges in, Sunghoon is having you on all fours, crying by the fact that he hasn’t let you cum over the last hour. Would be too jealous to invite Heeseung to join (in comparison to Jake), but would definitely demand Heeseung to sit down on a chair by the bed while watching the two of you as a "punishment" for him disturbing your fun. “Aw baby, do you get turned on because Heeseung is watching? You’re such a slut” Omg he would be such a tease, making you scream his name when you get close, while looking at Heeseung. Wouldn’t let him leave until you both cum. “Nobody is leaving until I say so”. While making out with you he would cum so hard, while looking at Heeseung. “So when is it my turn with her?” “Oh, no I would never let you touch her, but I love it when you watch”

[moon7jay]

WANT (l.hs)

Warnings : angst, cum eating, smut, basically filth.

"I think he doesn't find me sexually attractive"

There.

U said it.

Your worst fear. Out loud.

your best friend looked at u like u had grown two heads

"Tf does that even mean? Isn't he dating u? "

She said it like even the thought of what u said was incredulous, but how would she know the things you were seeing and observing with your very own eyes.

Your lower lip trembled just thinking about all the times he had pushed u away. As if u were a turn off. Maybe u were.

"I mean yeah, but it's been 6 months and he hasn't.. " your voice trailed off as u felt the onslaught of tears approaching. Damn it. Damn that man for making u feel like this about yourself.

"Y/n no. He hasn't touched u?? like at all?? "

He did touch u, he held your hand when u were outside, intertwined your fingers when at home, kissed your forehead, pecked your cheek and lips. And he would pull away just as fast whenever u tried to kiss him deeper, or press urself closer. It was like u made him uncomfortable. Maybe u did.

You shook your head and broke down in tears, it was too much for ur fragile heart.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your body clad tightly in a wine red mini dress, the chest cut lower to display your ample cleavage. You looked sexy. Or so u thought.

The entire night went just like it always did. heeseung called u beautiful, he kissed u and held u close, told u everything about his day and asked u about yours. You were laughing with him but u weren't quiet there. Cuz u would catch several men ogling at u throughout the night but never heeseung . It was like. U weren't visible to him.

By the time he dropped u off at your apartment, ur mood was all the way down. Getting inside and taking ur dress off haphazardly, maybe u heard some fabric ripping but who cared. Silent tears falling down ur face as u sat in front of your vanity and looked at yourself blankly. Were u that unattractive? Did u lack sex appeal? Is that it? Because u couldn't turn ur boyfriend on no matter how hard u tried.

He barely ever seemed affected by u or ur display of your body. Ur insecurities ate away at u the entire night and u cried ur way to sleep.

"U haven't been answering my calls"

His voice echoed in the kitchen, u tried ur best to not turn around and run into his arms. After all he was still your heeseung , u loved him. And now more than ever u needed him. But he just seemed so far away.

The stirring of spoon in the coffee u were making got faster, ur anxiety getting the best of u. U hadn't been purposefully avoiding him. It's just that u didn't trust yourself to not break down like a loser in front of him anymore.

"I'm talking to u y/n"

"I'm sorry" u whispered, ur voice barely audible, the stirring of coffee got even faster, warm droplets spilling out of the cup now.

"Baby what r u sorry for? " His voice was still far away so u assumed he was still standing at the entrance of the kitchen. This gave u a little bit of strength as u cleared ur throat and dumped ur mess of a coffee into the sink

"For forcing u to be in this relationship" U replied, opening the upper cabinet to take out the coffee beans with ur shaking hands.

Pulling out another cup to start stirring again. It was the only thing keeping u calm right now.

"Y/n look at me" His voice was commanding and ur stirring stopped.

"Please"

U took a deep breath and turned around. It was about time u faced ur demons, how long were u going to run away from ur self anyway?

He was a few feet away from u, probably hesitating to come closer because of your behavior. But he never came closer anyway.

His face looked helpless and worried, like he couldn't quite understand what was going on

"What are u even talking about? " He asked carefully

U shrugged

"U started dating me out of pity hee, u did not like me from the get go and u still don't, I get that, and I'm ready to let u go"

His mouth gaped open, floundering for words

"What the fuck y/n?? Where the fuck is all this coming from? Yes I didn't like u from the get go, but that's because I didn't fucking know u! U confessed to me and I AGREED to go out with u. That's all there is to it." He sounded angry, mad even. But u couldn't bring ur self to believe his words.

"U didn't have the heart to reject me"

"I didn't WANT to reject u"

U sniffled. No this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to tell u that yes u were right and he didn't want to be with u. So why was he being like this.

U bit ur lower lip to stop it from trembling, looking down at ur feet, unable to look at his love filled eyes anymore

"Y/n please talk to me baby"

His pleading voice made ur heart squeeze, u were hurting him.

"So why don't u want me? " U whispered quietly, too scared of his answer

"What? " His eyes met yours in confusion and worry. He seemed distressed, not knowing what changed so much in a week's span.

"Am I not sexually appealing? like, do u not find me attractive that way?... or any way.. "

tears started to fall once u said it out loud. Oh god u wanted to disappear, away from the way his eyes searched ur face.

He was going to be disgusted with u and then leave. Oh u were a fool, u hated ur self.

What u weren't expecting was for him to walk towards u, u watched him walk closer and closer until u could feel his breath on ur face.

Your watering eyes met his

"Is that what all this is about?" he asked, his voice an octave lower, dark eyes gazing at u in a way u had never seen before.

U looked down embarrassed, more tears falling freely now

"of course it is, it's been 6 months, u don't touch me, u don't kiss me, u don't even seem to care all that much when - u were cut off with a bruising kiss, his large hands cupping your face as his lips moved furiously against yours. Your eyes widened and u unknowingly moved ur hands on his chest, fisting his shirt. The way he was kissing u could only be described one way.

Hungry.

He was hungry.

He bit your lower lip and u screamed into his mouth, eyes closing in pain, focusing on the way he slithered his tongue into your mouth taking advantage of your scream, the feel of his tongue on yours made ur knees weak.

as if sensing ur light headedness he moved one hand to grab onto your waist. U gasped, the bare skin of your waist burning from his touch. U couldn't comprehend what was happening and if the person kissing u was your heeseung .

The kiss was messy, your lips connected with a string of saliva when he pulled away

U were panting, his hot and heavy breaths fell on your face. His eyes stared down at u with desire, the intensity so strong ur fists on his chest tightened.

You watched in awe as he loosened your hold on his shirt's fabric and took ur hand in his own, moving it downwards. Ur breath left ur lungs when u felt his hardness, he squeezed his length with your palm, a groan escaping his parted lips. U watched him frozen with wide eyes.

"This is u, all u" he panted on your face as he continued to rub himself over his pants using your soft hand. Your pussy tingled in arousal at seeing your boyfriend like this for the first time. Even from feeling him above his pants u could tell he was big.

"And everytime u kiss me, everytime u touch me, this is exactly how I go back home. Hard and throbbing, do u feel me baby? "

U nodded dumbly, not quiet deciphering his words. U turned him on?

"Yeah. Feel me more, press harder, I'm tired of jerking off with my own hand imagining it is yours"

His words make u gasp, your hold instinctively tightening on his dick. He curses kissing u on ur bleeding lip again, suckling the plump flesh into his mouth.

"U.. U j-jerked off to me? " U asked in a whisper, not wanting to jinx it. So in disbelief u didn't notice how fast u were rubbing his boner now. He moaned into ur mouth, taking ur hand and pulling it away from his dick only to unzip himself and slip it inside of his jeans.

You moaned when ur hand met his hard and throbbing cock, holding it and running your fingers on it softly. So big and thick. How was he gonna fit in u.

"Every night, jerked off to u so so hard. Came for u so much baby" He groaned into ur mouth at your soft hand finally holding him.

His words had u pressing ur thighs together and squirming against his body where he had u trapped against the kitchen counter. You started jerking him off in the earnest

"Yeah just like that, where'd u learn how to do it so good baby" He asked, his head thrown back, your hand gathering the precum at his cockhead and spreading it all over his cock, watching how ur hand looked working him inside his jeans. His hold on your waist tightened, moving up to grope ur chest making a pornographic moan rip through ur chest

"Practiced with my dildo"

u barely heard him curse before hot white liquid was flowing over your hand, a dark spot forming on his jeans. He groaned and captured ur lips in his own again. U couldn't believe u had made him cum. U had just made ur boyfriend cum by barely doing anything.

You pulled out ur hand from his jeans and watched in awe how his white seed looked on your hand. As if in trance u found ur self tasting it, your tongue licking your fingers and slurping all of his thick cum from ur hand.

When u met his eyes he was looking at u like a hungry animal, his jaw ticking as he traced ur movements with his eyes.

He pressed u closer to the kitchen counter so that there was no space left in between your bodies. His hands groping your ass harshly making u whine, ur hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

"U fuck urself? Ride ur dildo? " He asked, his voice dark and heavy with lust.

U nodded, squirming against him from his perverted touch, he was squeezing ur body like those men did on buses. Like it was an object of pleasure.

"Yeah? What do u think of? "

"You" u moaned as he twisted ur nipple painfully through ur crop top.

He groaned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against u.

"Tried so hard to hold myself back, I knew u were a virgin so wanted to take it slow with u, wanted to show u i want u for more than just ur body. But all this time- he squeezed the flesh at your waist making u moan his name-all this time u have been dreaming of getting used"

He picked up your leg, wrapping it around his waist, his dick settling between ur legs, grinding against ur pussy through ur soft cotten shorts.

"Oh I'm gonna use u alright, gonna use ur fucking pussy to get myself off, that'll make u happy won't it? " He asked rutting against ur cunt, rubbing your genitals against each other,both of you panting together.

U nodded. This was all u ever dreamed of.

He moaned and kept rutting against u, u rutted back, pushing ur hips against his, gasps and pants filling the kitchen space. He dug his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck

"Can't believe I could have been beating this fucking pussy red all this time"

His words made u drip. U had never been so fucking turned on.

"heeseung put it in please, please I'm ready, please please" Tears sprang to ur eyes as his grinding motion gave u ecstasy, u were so close to cumming just like this. "Waited so long please" U begged, his furrowed brows and sharp eyes watched ur face, still grinding against u, but u both wanted more friction. He started pulling away and hurriedly pulled his pants down,starting to unbutton his shirt. U didn't waste more time and took off ur shorts and panties along with ur top, throwing them across the kitchen. You were feeling too impatient, rubbing your naked body against his, the fire burning inside u at its peak.

He pressed u against the counter again. Pressing his body to yours, but not penetrating u, just rubbing his hard dick against ur naked wet snatch, watching how they created a mess together. Your movements matched his, grinding back, rubbing and rubbing, the wet and messy sight between your rubbing genitals was so lewd u could feel ur self getting close.

"wanna make ur first time special, won't impale u on my dick right now, but let's fuck like this yeah? Wanna have sex just like this right now" He panted and groaned. U nodded, digging your nails into his back, rubbing ur pebbled nips against his bare chest.

The pleasure was too good, u had never felt something like this before.

His cockhead was hitting ur clit just right, the squelching sounds increasing as u both moaned and groaned in pleasure. He loved it. Loved how u both were rubbing ur sweaty bodies against each other like animals in heat.

His tongue entangled again with yours, fingers digging in your hips as he picked u up and made u sit on the counter, positioning u in a way that had u leaning back on your elbows, his desperate hands pulling ur hips off the counter and holding them like a sex toy. Grinding and rubbing his cock against ur velvet folds.

"Fuck yeah, baby we gotta fuck like this again"

He groaned and his thrusts started becoming rough. U chanted his name like a mantra. He was basically fucking u without actually being inside but u couldn't fathom anything feeling more good than this. Your elbows got tired and u let yourself lie back and just get used

"Gonna fuck ur pussy whenever I want"

"Bet it's tight as fuck baby, gonna have so much fun tearing u up"

"Oh yeah fuck back on me"

"Grind baby come on, what a whore"

His filthy words pushed u over the edge, coming over his cock.

He kept rubbing his cock into your cumming pussy, cursing and gritting his teeth as the heat in his loin became unbearable. Cumming all over your stomach and pussy, grunting in pleasure "fuck fuck fuck"

He rubbed his fingers on your folds, watching how raw and abused your cunt looked.

U didn't know what u had opened the door to. heeseung wanted to keep u away from his sexual urges as long as he could. He was rough, he was demanding. But most of all he was sex crazed. He didn't want u to see that side of him so soon into the relationship. And it was hard for him, feeling ur soft body pressing against his arm everyday but he always clenched his jaw and pushed u away. Rubbing his dick raw again and again just remembering how heavenly u felt.

But now that u had summoned his demons out, he was gonna play. He was gonna fuck u again and again until u r trying to run away from him. Until the pleasure turns into pain. He was going to show u exactly why he kept u away from him for so long.

His want was not casual, it was obsessive, it was destructive. And u were going to find out the hard way (No pun intended)

[jscrawls]

i feel like adam reader don’t get sick but when she does?? COMPETE PERSONALITY CHANGE!! she will giggle and smile and it unnerve everyone. just image reader giggling, beet red and jason is just ‘…cute but who tf are u?’

she got sick during the time she dated john and he taught her ass get possessed

LMAO THIS IS SO FUNNY!! 🤣

Like Addams family reader is a weirdo of supreme proportions, they drink poison for fun, swim in the Gotham harbor, ask to get fear gassed and joker venom anytime they're kidnapped or whatever, but they get taken out by ivy's normal plants making too much pollen?

The Wayne's think you've been switched out with someone else when you eat normal food and don't seem deliriously enthusiastic about your own suffering, who TF are you and where's their creepy neighbor??? John thinks you got possessed by a different, poor mimic of you because your normal possessions don't even look this disturbing???

🔹🔹🔹

"can you turn the lights on please? It's much too dark in here.."

Your raspy tired voice makes them pause like a deer spotting headlights down the road, not because of the sickly tone no, they expected that when they heard you were under the weather.

It's what you're asking for.

"... Excuse me?" They turn to look at your like you've said complete gibberish, they must've misheard you...

"yes the lights, it's awfully dreary in here and I'd like to be able to see you. Could you please open the French doors too while you're at it? The sunlight might help...."

Okay, what? That's so damn out of character for you they swear they can feel the hair on their arms standing up. With slow steps they cross the room to slowly pull the curtains aside and pull the doors to your balcony open, watching you with wide, concerned eyes when you don't even flinch at the bright sunlight coming in. You, who thinks a thunderstorm is optimal weather to go out to town in. You, who thinks anything brighter than moonlight is awful because you prefer dark shadows..... They should get a doctor in there ASAP.

You sigh contentedly and sink back into your pillow, gazing at them with a tired, normal smile on your face. "Thank you..."

"oh, umm... You're welco-" They watch you turn the TV on, one of your favorite shows is playing, the walking dead. They watch in barely concealed horror as you wrinkle your nose at the violent scene you clicked into the middle of, someone being eaten alive by a zombie, and then change the channel to friends. The sight of you GIGGLING at Ross of all people is enough to force them to leave the room before they start sweating.

Whatever's wrong with you must be terminal.

🔹🔹🔹

| m.list |

A/n: this made me laugh out loud when I saw it 😁 I left the caretaker ambiguous so you can imagine any Wayne or anyone else hanging out with a sick Addams reader 🖤🖤🖤

[shuenkio]

𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾? | 성훈 -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

Paring: Sunghoon X M!reader

Synopsis: A friend benefits but you have the audacity to ask him to be your boyfriend again when he thought he's already yours?

Genre: Fluff. Cw: a bit freaking at last.

Non proof read. English is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

You have always been a hater of friends with benefits for your whole life but it seems like when it was Sunghoon, he was your exception. Why not though when the Park Sunghoon guy is the most hottest and gorgeous man you've ever seen in this whole campus. Ofc you did accept his deal without even thinking.

On the other hand, Talking about how Sunghoon got his nose on you, it was like lightning struck love, the first sight he saw in you he must get you around his fingers, instantly, the thought to own you was so powerful but not until he realizes if he ask you to be his, just by the first appearance of you, would probably be so weird to even sound so that's why he come up with a deal instead. "Friend with benefits." They both fucked, make out, kissed, hang out like a real damn couple and that's not enough to make you feel the spark, to know is was all Sunghoon silly intentions, oblivious even when the taller is completely obvious but not until—

It's been a long time, days turn into week, week turn into months for 12 times. It was a cold evening when Sunghoon asked you out as usual for a date. Excited about consuming you, once the clock strikes 7, you're all good to go, all fit and clean. As if he's your soon-to-be boyfriend.

"aren't you giddy than usual? Take the wrong medicine again!?" Stare down at your sight, scanning with his brows tied together, either he was suspicious or he was weird out by your sudden side. Shrug your small shoulder, you adjust your top while palm close together, smiling at him like an awkward puppy. Sunghoon jotted his lip unsure before driving them both to the destination.

The dinner went off smoothly, the atmosphere was your favorite. A warm glow from candles and fairy lights bathes the cozy dining table. A linen-covered table holds elegant plates, steaming dishes, and crystal glasses. Soft music hums in the background, blending with quiet laughter and the clink of silverware. Plush chairs invite lingering, as wine pours smoothly and the evening unfolds in gentle warmth. you finished your dinner before Sunghoon does, to gather your heart and encourage to ask him something you've always wanted to. It's like he was a quiz you were the student, both nervous and excited, can't explain how much your cheeks hurt from the thought of him, would accept you even if there's a low chance you think he'd rejected you, but give it a shot right? At least worth a try.

Your peculiar behavior is odd enough to make him dizzy, to ask what's exactly what's wrong with you for real.

"okay m/n tell me what's going on with you? You need more money? Robux? Or what? You weird tf out of me" Sunghoon claim, swirling his glass of wine as he gulped down into his throat, clicked his tongues off of the strong tastes.

"you won't be mad if I have to let my thoughts out?" Your jaw tense up, feeling anxious that you could bite off your finger nails. The answer is only to burn Sunghoon's curiosity more. He finally let out a deep stressing sigh, composing himself to what will come toward him with your sweet mouth.

"I think I like you... Boyfriend?" face burning, quickly hides behind your hands, fingers barely able to contain your own nervous tremble. Your heart races—too fast, too loud—as the weight of this confession lingers between them. Sunghoon roots in his seat, with an easy posture, raises an eyebrow and glances at you with a half-smile, as if the situation is no big deal.

"Wait," Sunghoon says nonchalantly,

"I thought we already were dating?am I dumb or you are" He shrugged casually, as if the confession wasn’t anything new, Sunghoon tone light and carefree. He messaged his temple, so stunned with this encounter.

"I mean... You think we are? I— that's good" face turning crimson, scratches the back of your head awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. Your gaze flickers everywhere but at him, unable to hide the nervousness building up inside. You just nod slowly, unsure if he'd just made things more complicated or clearer.

"you're still not sure, maybe I should fuck until my dick leaking nonstop of you instead to know if we dating or not— aigoo"

Funtalk: I might do my experience this week 😝 guess who in skz? Well idk too—