#Dick loves spinning in the the swing

[motleyfam]

Imagine Bruce starting therapy and learning about all these cool new tricks and gadgets that can help with emotional regulation and getting super invested (because I mean, c’mon, the dude’s like the king of gadget hoarding, he’s got a utility belt for goodness sake)

Then imagine the learning curve of him realizing that just because something works great for one of his kids, doesn’t mean it works for all of them, as illustrated by this memorable incident:

Jason gets really upset and starts having a minor panic attack about something

Bruce, proud owner of 14 new weighted blankets (in various styles, weights, and sizes), tries to wrap his adult son up in one to ground him

After all, Bruce himself finds them super comforting because it’s basically a socially acceptable alternative to wearing a massive Kevlar cape 24/7 like he’d do if he could

(Tim loves them too, so like, kid tested, parent approved™️)

Ends up totally backfiring when the added weight & restricted movement sends Jason into a full-blown flashback of digging out of his own grave, taking this panic attack from like a 4 to a 10

Whoops

[2tarbell]

MEAN SOMETHING — KOOK!READER

only one person knew how to handle your drunk best friend…

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

you were going to end rafe cameron.

on the one night, the one night, you wanted some alone time and to be away from the boys, he decided to get sloppy drunk. of course, your other best friends have no idea how to take care of a drunk person and you honestly wondered how they even took care of themselves. which left you to slide on some slippers and drive over.

now as you stood before the front door in your victoria’s secret yoga pants and pink sweater, waiting for topper to answer it, you wonder why you let yourself get pulled into shit like this.

it’s rafe, that’s why. that’s always the reason why.

the door swings open to reveal a frazzled topper and kelce, you would’ve laughed at them if you weren’t so pissed. they took in your attire, the prissiness still evident even your pajamas. but you looked slightly disheveled, something they didn’t see often. both boys snorted at the sight of your bunny slippers but you quickly cut them off.

“say anything and i’ll chop your dicks off. where is he?” you seethed.

your tone brooked no argument and they both stepped aside to let you sashay in. kelce had his keys in hand as he mumbled something about rafe being ‘in his room’ and ‘on the floor’.

god was really testing you tonight.

you shooed them away, locking up the door behind them and stomping up the stairs. just praying he wasn’t choking on his own vomit or something.

the sight that greeted you literally made you pause and take out your phone, nails tapping the screen as you took a picture. rafe cameron, laying on his back and seemingly enthralled by the ceiling fan. it was genuinely amusing and kind of adorable. but the bottle of whiskey sitting next to him reminded you of your duty.

“rafe. sit up.”

his head snapped up at your voice, a boyish grin on his lips. he looked younger when he was drunk, stress and age having melted away.

“heeey, baby, whaddaya doin’ hereee?” he slurred, a low rumbly version of his voice.

you stepped closer, standing over him. hands on your hips as you looked down at him. his eyes were hardly open but you didn’t miss how they trailed down your figure.

“making sure you don’t die — get up.” the words were sharp in attempt to make him seriously listen.

he giggled and sighed, pushing up to rest on his elbows. the movement had his head spinning but he didn’t give a shit. just needed a better look at his pretty best friend.

“oh, y’know it turns me on when y’talk to me like that…”

you poked his side with your foot a bit harshly. patience wearing thin, you glared down at him.

“you’re such a pain in my ass—“

“mmm, love your ass,” he hummed but then groaned when you kicked him again, harder.

“rafe, i am so serious right now—“

with a childish huff of annoyance, he lifted himself off the ground but then immediately flopped face first on his bed. small victories, small victories.

you were happy to see dumb and dumber had enough brains to leave a water bottle with him. you grabbed it off the nightstand and perched at the edge of the bed next to the drunken 6’2 baby. a delicate hand rubbed his back; despite being annoyed at him for getting this drunk, you were still worried.

“hey, babe, c’mon — turn over. you need to drink some water…”

rafe unceremoniously flipped over, long legs dangling off the side of the bed. he sat up slowly and groaned at each movement. the room was nonstop spinning, so he decided to focus on one thing: your face. a smile worked its way onto his lips before he could stop himself.

you looked so beautiful, all worried and doting on him. blue eyes stared at your features (like he didn’t already have them committed to memory). the tent in his pant caught your eye and he watched as your eyes rolled. despite the memories of nights spent tangled up with him, you couldn’t believe the audacity he had.

“no way you’re seriously hard right now—“

“mmm, can’t control it around you.”

his smirk was frustrating you, in more ways than one. no, you wouldn’t do anything while he was this drunk. he knows that. yet he still tries to lean up and—

the water bottle presses to his lips, you trying to ease him into drinking and ignoring the bulge you’ve become all too familiar with. his betrayed expression made you snicker. this wasn’t the time to let fantasies run wild. kicking off your slippers and tucking your legs beneath you, you leaned closer.

“c’mon, rafe,” your voice was sweet, so sweet. he couldn’t do anything but take large gulps of water, trying to please you. he was a dumbass but you smiled at his eager approach.

“okay, okay — slow down before you jus’ throw it all up…” the giggle you let out settled right into his bones. rafe found himself wondering why you were just friends. he thought that a lot lately.

“go out with me.”

he definitely thought he sounded more debonair than he did. in reality, half of the words he spoke just flowed into each other. but he kept that low drawl that always sent you reeling. you couldn’t do this, couldn’t approach that territory. not now. you’d be happy if you never did.

“rafe—“ you tensed up.

“no, seriously. you’re— you’re gorgeous and y’put up with me. i mean, c’mon—“

the deep sting to your heart wasn’t something new. but it felt stronger this time, more painful. with a sigh, you set the water back down on his nightstand, brushing his hair back as he continues to rant.

“i think we get along great. y’know y’ten times better than— than any other chick i’ve been with— shit, any chick on the island—“

a bittersweet smile graced your lips. rafe noticed they were devoid of any pink or gloss. you really got out of bed just to come and take care of him? that’s gotta mean something.

“c’mon, doll face… gimme a reason y’shouldn’t.”

his words trailed off into contented hums when you started to scratch his scalp. boys are so easy. but boys aren’t rafe.

“i’m a bitch.” the resignation in your voice was telling. being a bitch, being called one wasn’t something new to you. these days you accepted the word with pride, reclaiming it in a sense. but you knew rafe, kook boys, and hell even pogue boys didn’t want a bitch. you were too much for most people.

the scoff he let out made you smile, cheeks dimpling and fingers twisting his hair. he shook his head with a frown and rested a large hand on your waist.

“nooo, y’not.” the words punctuated with a squeeze.

“i am—“

rafe reached up and cupped the back of your neck, silencing any chance to speak or protest. you know what that touch meant: ‘i’m talking now’.

“you’re beautiful. and— and smart and good.” his whispered words are drunken and mumbled. but you felt like your heart might explode, a heat pushing through your veins and replacing the blood with rafe.

rafe, rafe, rafe.

“best girl i know... yeah?” he urges, squeezing the back of your neck. your heart thumps faster at the pressure. you nod, because what else can you do when he speaks to you like that?

with a satisfied hum, he smiles. the action completely softens his face and it blows you away every time. you’re pressed closer, leaning over him, and he’s staring at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

“that’s my girl…”

you can’t tell who leans in first, but soon you’re locking lips with your best friend. something that shouldn’t be familiar and exhilarating as it is, but continues to be every single time. the kiss that you share is more gentle than you two have ever been with each other. in your complicated relationship, it was always hot and rough.

but this… this was slow and comforting. he tasted like whiskey and you let your lips part just slightly, a tentative lick of his tongue into the warmth of your mouth made you feel weak.

rafe was alight with want. he’d always wanted you. wanted to be in your presence. wanted to hear your voice. wanted to have you beneath him. wanted to be beneath you. he wanted it all. maybe it was the whiskey talking, but nothing had ever felt more right than when your hand cupped his cheek and your lips where on his.

“you should sleep…” your voice was hardly recognizable, soft and hesitant against his lips. he didn’t have to to ask, you knew he wanted you to stay. and you know you couldn’t have left if you wanted to.

so, you let him wrap his arms around you and nestled into his neck. and when he starts to snore like he always denies he does, you felt like things might be okay. despite it all, he was gonna be your rafe.

[rafesbangs]

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: shopping all day makes you tired, rafe however isn't tired and tries to mess around in the uber before stopping but having you try on lingerie you bought later at home;) wc: 1.9k

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! dom!rafe, use of the nickname 'baby', semi-public groping (?), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, size kink, slight fluff i guess. lot of strong language !!

a/n: smut smut smut finallyyy lol... i'd love feedback! pls let a girl know if you enjoy this <3

you two had been out all day. with your legs aching and both yours and rafe's hands full of shopping bags. you were so glad you'd agreed on an uber back to tanneyhill instead of either of you driving back home after getting off the ferry from charleston.

you lazily leaned your head on rafe's shoulder, smiling up at him when he noticed and leant to plant a kiss on your forehead. releasing a few bags at his feet, he snakes a strong arm around your waist, gently tracing the curve of your body before he not so subtly reaches his hand around to palm at one of your tits through your top.

"rafe." you hiss, raising your head to look into the rear view mirror, hoping the uber driver didn't see anything he shouldn't have. rafe just smirks at you and continues to squeeze your tit, pushing his thumb down over your nipple gently while he goes in to kiss you deeply.

you reciprocate, of course, but attempt to cover what he's doing by putting your hand over his. rafe not being fond of being told what to do, pulls his lips just a little from your kiss. "why're you tryina to stop me baby? 'can tell you're enjoying it by the way you're kissing me" he whispers, breathy.

you swallow nervously and glance up at the rear view mirror, making eye contact with the uber driver now before the man quickly directs his eyes back onto the road.

"not in the uber rafe.." you whisper back, your eyes gesturing to the rear view mirror again hoping that your mischievous boyfriend will listen.

he rolls his eyes but ultimately, the thought of someone perving on his girl bothered him more than not getting what he wants, besides, the uber was just about to pull into tanneyhill anyway.

rafe softly pulls his arm back and grabs the many shopping bags he'd put down at his feet before the uber comes to a full stop. as if with the speed of light, he swings the car door open and hops out before closing it and running around to open the other door for you.

"thank you.." you sleepily say, the day really getting to you now, though rafe was wide awake, and you could see hunger in his eyes. he thanks the driver before practically almost tearing your arm off as he drags you inside.

in the foyer, finally, he turns around and shuts the door behind you with a wicked smile. you could feel your legs turning into jelly, was it over the fact that your gorgeous boyfriend was looking at you a certain way or was it because you'd been walking around and trying things on for like 7 hours straight... you couldn't tell.

"'think it's time you try on some of those sets you bought that you wouldn't let me see..." he grins, hands dropping the shopping bags as he snakes them up your body from your ass to your ribs.

you chew your lip a little, not wanting to disappoint him but you don't think you could handle what a try on haul would turn into, "rafe... i'm so tired..."

he scoffs and throws you over his shoulder quickly, making sure to grab the right shopping bags before taking you both up the stairs to bed.

rafe throws you down onto the soft bed and you stretch and yawn in retaliation before looking up at him, his eyes are dark and hungry, seeing you lying there on his bed all dazed has his head spinning.

realising there's no way you'll get out of this, and also realising you can't say no to that face, or that dick, you smile and sit up. he smirks realising your change of mind and holds the two bags out for you to take into the ensuite.

"maybe a few..." you sigh, rolling your eyes with a grin as you waltz towards the bathroom. rafe sits himself down on the edge of his bed, his grin wide as if he's a little kid in a toy store about to get the biggest toy ever.

in the bathroom, you throw your outside clothes off and strip down before riffling through the bags of lace and string. finally you pull out set number one, lots of lace, lots of mesh too, and put it on with a grin.

"okay close your eyes!" you call from behind the bathroom door, rafe squirms where he sits but closes his eyes, giddy as ever.

you open the door slowly, peering out to see if his eyes are closed, and you smile and walk out, posing a little in front of him before telling him to open.

his deep blues flutter open, you can see the thoughts going through his head a mile a minute, and you'd never seen someone get so hard so fast.

"jesus baby, you're killin' me." he breathes, running a hand through his messy hair before he attempts to lean forward and grab you. you step back and wag your finger at him with a grin, "we still have about 7 of these to go"

rafe's heart just about stopped, he didn't think he could bare sitting through another, let alone seven more sets when all he wanted to do was rip them off of your body and show you how sexy he thought you looked.

it was pure agony, he was clutching himself near the end, practically whining and begging for the little fashion show to end. finally you walked out in the last set, the best one too, and he just about lost his mind.

without even letting you tease him with the way you'd show it off, he lunged at you and grabbed you by the waist before dragging you down into his bed.

"making me fuckin' wait like this, jesus- did you save the best for last." he growls under his breath, now playing with your tits through the black mesh lace fabric.

you just giggle as his grumbling and lean into his touch as he quickly takes the bralette off and connects his mouth to your tit with a relieved sigh. simultaneously, his other big hands travels down your body gently before making it to your soaked opening.

rafe smirks as his fingers slowly circled your pussy, he was breathing deeply into your ear at the sight of how wet you were for him. you could feel the large bulge in his pants twitch when he finally pulled your panties to the side. he licked his lips and sloppily kissed you down your neck before inserting two fingers.

you gasped a little at the feeling and moaned against him. he was loosing his mind over all the sounds you were making, he'd barely touched you.

"baby your pussy sounds so wet f’me, you're drivin' me insane, y'know that?" he breathed, now palming himself in his pants after finally stripping his shirt off.

you run your hands down his abs, grinning from ear to ear as he admires you and continues to touch himself. rafe could feel himself beginning to ache, the need to be inside you had gotten stronger and stronger.

“come ‘ere baby,” he mumbled, quickly pulling his pants off before pulling you under him. he sloppily began kissing you, nibbling at your lip every so often as your tongues fought for dominance.

your breathing was heavy, you could feel his cock right on your pussy. rafe smirked as he kissed you when you began to rut against him, stifling a moan. "you want it inside you? hmm?" he teased, a grin plastered on his smug face from ear to ear.

"mmhm" you mumbled, still kissing his smirk, now desperate to feel him deep inside you. he was groaning against your lips now, realising he also needed to tear away the fabric that was between you.

without a word he threw you onto your back before tearing his pants and boxers down. your breath hitched in your throat when his dick sprung out, you'd never get used to how big he actually was but he still managed to make it fit every time. not that you were complaining, matching size kinks and all.

you grinned hungrily as he crawled on top of you and pulled your panties off slowly, holding eye contact with a matching smirk.

"as sexy as you are wit' all this on, i'ma need to tear it off." he said lowly, your stomach pooled with warmth and butterflies.

rafe kissed his way up your thighs, planted one sloppy kiss right on your sopping wet core before continuing up your stomach and tits. as he devoured your boobs, he slowly slid his entire length into your pussy. you couldn't hold back the moan and you could see his eyebrows nit together at the feeling.

you clenched around him and he groaned, his forehead softly hitting your chest, "baby, fuck... are you tryina make me cum already?"

"you're just.. so big, oh my god." you moaned as he started pumping in and out quickly and unforgivingly. your toes curl and your back arches as he turns slight discomfort into pure pleasure.

his tip kisses your cervix and your eyes roll back as he continues to plow into you. "rafe... rafe." you nearly screamed, grabbing around for his hand until he finally finds yours and laces his fingers between yours.

"what baby, you gonna cum f'me already? fuck.." he mumbled into your ear. the feeling of his hot breath on your neck assisted in sending you over the edge, your chest rising and falling as the band in your tummy snapped.

"good girl, cum all over my cock, fuck... you're such a good girl." he moaned, not even thinking of stopping as he continued to sink his dick into you. the pleasure was immeasurable and relentless. your legs were still shaking as you went through the wave of your first orgasm but rafe continued on.

"oh fuck, rafe- so good" you wailed, nails digging into his back. he sped up, his hips slamming harder into your own now, begging for you to come undone around him a second time.

with one hand gripping harshly on your hip, you were soon moving to meet his thrusts now. both of you moaning into each other's mouths, sloppily making out as rafe rolled your nipple between the fingers of his other hand gripping onto one of your tits.

you could tell he was getting closer now, the thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier and a bead of sweat forming upon his furrowed brow. your legs start to shake and you can feel the pressure releasing for a second time around rafe's cock.

"fuck! oh fuck.. rafe" you whined, nails digging into him again as your orgasm washed over you.

"fuck, you're unreal... m'gonna cum baby" he breathed, still trying to keep up the pace but to no avail.

you threw your arms around his neck, looking deep into his eyes. "cum inside me rafe, please, fill me up" you begged, and this was enough to send his head into space and for him to finally release into you with low grunts as he slowed down his thrusts.

he collapsed on top of you, lazily kissing you all over after lying there for a minute in pure bliss. you ran your fingers through his messy bangs and kissed him on the forehead.

"god i love you." he breathed, kissing you deeply. you smiled into the kiss, it was soft and loving. all while he was still inside of you.

"i love you too rafe"

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

taglist:

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@lovely-ateez @thewulf @coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @beebeechaos

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 23

Miguel x F!Reader (Bondage)

Summary: Miguel is tired of you running around the Spider Society and needs you to sit down and listen for five minutes.

Warning: MINOR DNI, SMUT, bondage, webs being used in ways they shouldn't be used, overstimulation

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There a good number of things that drove Miguel up a wall. Many of them were due to either his job at Alchemax, or his position at the Spider Society.

Apart from those two, another thing that made Miguel crazy was you.

You were pretty much the hyper active child of the Spider Society. Always swinging around, making a fuss where ever you go. Miguel was getting tired of having to find you and sit you down for even five minutes.

"(Y/N), come to my office," Miguel said with a heavy sigh as he called you via watch.

"Can't right now, Miggy! I'm having a race!"

"Where?!"

"Uhhhhh....can't....bzzz....you..."

Miguel felt his eye twitch as you hung up on him. As he pinched the bridge of his nose, Lyla ever so happily showed him the footage of you racing with some other Spider people. The group of you bumping into pillars left and right.

Honestly, Miguel loved the hyper go-energy you had. He just wished you stood still enough for him to admire you. Watching your body twist and turn made Miguel's mind wander. What did he have to do to keep you still?

Miguel slumped in his seat wondering if you would still try to move if he ever fucked you.

"Hehe, okay, I won! What did you need, Miggy? I have like...three people to meet soon!" You chirped as you swung into his office.

"You're going to have to cancel," Miguel groaned softly, wanting to hide his erection.

"Awe! No fair, you know~ I'll just come bac-"

You gasped as Miguel fired his webbing towards you. With ease, you legs were bound and you had fallen onto the floor. Right when you were going to break free, Miguel swung over and webbed your hands together. Like a fish, you flopped over to face him.

"Fine! Fine, I'll listen." You pouted. Miguel hovered over you, his breathe against your neck,

"Why do you have to make things so difficult?" He asked, causing your heart to race a bit, "Is this how I have to get you to stay still?"

"I guess,"

Miguel was so close to you. Having both your hands and legs tied was making both your mind and heart race. As you looked into his crimson eyes, you couldn't help but lean towards Miguel. You had always found Miguel handsome.

As if he read your mind, Miguel captured your lips in a kiss. His hands rested against your knees, slowly breaking the binding. As you melted into the kiss, you didn't realize that Miguel had positioned himself between your legs, webbing your already bonded hands to the unmovable object.

"Mhm~ Mig-" You gasped between kisses, squirming slightly as you felt his body against yours.

"Shh, you were doing so well," Miguel groaned.

You wanted to whine. You wanted to move, but Miguel was making it difficult. Perhaps if you kept moving, you would get out of his webbing?

--------

"Ah~ Hn~"

"What's wrong, (Y/N)? Don't wanna move now?"

You had become a moaning mess as Miguel pounded your pussy with his dick. Every time you tried to move, Miguel would change positions, keeping you bounded.

"Mhm~" You flinched as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"No moving remember?" Miguel chuckled.

Webbing your legs up, Miguel leaned into you even deeper than before. His breathing getting heavier as you came upon change. You weren't sure how much more your body could take. Drool was rolling down your cheek as your body kept asking for more.

Your pussy was twitching with every slap of his dick. Your body felt like it was on fire as you started to lose your sense of reason. You wanted to say that it hurt, but you couldn't. Miguel was making a mess of you and felt so damn good.

"Shit, I'm going to cum, (Y/N)." Miguel groaned lowly.

Hearing those words again made your brain spin. You whined and moaned in response as Miguel's pace picked up again. His thick cock pounding against your cervix, ready to unload inside you again.

"Stay still and drink up," Miguel hummed.

Your body arched forward, moaning as you felt him cum inside you. The two of you took a moment to rest before Miguel undid his webs. Your arms and legs flopped to the ground as you breathed heavily.

"You moved again, (Y/N). I have so much to teach you still," Miguel chuckled as he lifted you up against his chest.

"Lemme....rest first."

"But then you haven't learned."

You whined softly as Miguel webbed your hands behind your back as he sat you against his lap. Your pussy swallowed his dick with ease as you let your body rest against him.

"Another round should teach you, right?" Miguel questioned with a kiss.

Needless to say, another round was not enough to keep you still.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed!!!

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

[sapphossparenoterbook]

It Beats For You

You reunite with Rio Vidal, and discover the origins of her magic.

Rio Vidal x Fem!reader, fluff, mention of death (not main character)

You hadn’t seen Rio Vidal in years. There, of course, were rumours that the woman who had helped you hone in on your magic had died somewhere in Eastern Europe with Wanda Maximoff, and had worked alongside the deceased Scarlet Witch on a power hungry quest for more magic. 

Of course, you’d never believe it, deciding instead to hope and pray that your master and ex-lover would have been wise enough not to side with such a chaotic and corrupt force. Sure, Rio was corrupt, but she knows not to mess with forces like The Darkhold. 

Now, here she stands… in the corner of your grandmother's retirement home room? 

“Rio? What are you doing here?” You ask her. 

She’s dressed in an all black outfit as she turns around, black eyeliner, black pants, black headscarf, black shirt. And you could swear she flinches at the sound of your voice. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve put it off for long enough—I can’t break any more rules for you, Y/N.” 

“What?! What do you mean, I haven’t seen you in years, how have you broken rules for me—?” 

She disappears, and you hear your grandmother's heart monitor die out. 

~~6 months later~~

It’s been months. You’ve scoured your books, the internet, everything. There isn’t a known spellbook or encantation that Rio could have learnt to be able to control death. Except for one thing, she’d managed to overthrow Lucifer and become the ruler of hell. For that to have been true, she must’ve died. 

The only obituary for any woman named ‘Rio Vidal’ in the area was over 100 years ago. Which meant she’d lied to you, the entire time you were with her. 

She was never a green witch, or she was, but before she became the personification of death. The point is, she wasn’t ever a green witch when you were with her-she wasn’t a witch at all. She’d lied. 

You’re writing this all out on an old typewriter you were given by Rio herself, a big ‘R’ engraved on the side of it, constantly reminding you of the original owner, when you hear a voice. Is it in the back of your head, through telepathy? Or was she brave enough to finally show up to your house again?

“Is it really that big of a deal?” You hear her sardonic voice, slightly whiny, mainly just that familiar breathlessness she gets when she’s trying to be funny. Normally with a well-timed innuendo, this time with just pure mockery. 

“I dunno, clearly it’s not important enough for you to be here, just good old fashioned telepathy for me, darling? Who am I kidding, you’d never visit me in a million years–except for when I die” You say, not bothering to turn around. Her self preservation is much bigger than any dregs of love she has left for you. 

Suddenly, you feel your chair being roughly spun around by someone-or maybe someone’s magic. 

“Surprise, milady.” 

“How did you– no, why did you come here?” 

“I was in the neighbourhood! Did you miss me?” 

You look her up and down, it’s a different outfit to the one you last saw her in… a detective's outfit. 

“Saving Agatha?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow and grabbing the dangling detective’s badge around her neck reading the inscription on the gold part. It’s so obviously fake, if the purple witch can’t figure out she’s under a spell with just this little prop, then what’s the point in even trying?

“Yeah… don’t get jealous, baby. I’m sure she’ll leave some for you” 

“Don’t be a dick, she wouldn’t touch you with a 10 foot barge pole, not anymore. And if she does, she’d probably just run off to steal someone’s magic.”

You let go of the badge, letting it swing as you spin back around to the old typewriter. Rio walks around the room, studying how much it’s changed, before thrumming her fingers against the door frame and walking around the other rooms of your apartment. You know she hasn’t left, you’re much more attuned to your magic since she left you, and you don’t need to track the girl through the house. Your magic will do that for you whilst you focus. 

“I can read everything you write on that thing, y’know. I put a charm on it before I left you. All those cringey love letters you’ve never sent me? Read them, baby.” She tells you telepathically from the living room. 

“Well then why didn’t you come back? If you wanted to keep tabs on me?” You think back to her. Suddenly she’s teleported back to your side, looking down at you with this weird look in her eye, an emotion you never thought you’d see on her face. Regret. 

“You thought I didn’t want to come back?” 

“Were there any signs for me to have thought otherwise?” 

She sinks to her knees next to you so that she's level with your face, and reaches out with both hands to gently hold it, thumbs rubbing your cheeks like she used to all those years ago before she left without a trace. 

“I was always coming back, just had some things to do for a while. Promise” She mumbles, leaning down and kissing your cheek. 

“You still could have told me, asshole” You mumble back sighing happily at the familiar feeling of her lips against your cheek. She doesn’t let go, hands moving between you cheeks and your hair as she seems to want to grab at all of you, memorise the things she would have forgotten–the texture of your hair, and skin, the smell of your shampoo that you never change, the feel of the soft puffs of air from your breath on her face. 

She can tell, by looking at you, that you’re doing the exact same, neither of them want to move away, which is a little victory for Rio seeing as she can remember all those times that you wouldn't move from the typewriter for even a second when you were busy back when she lived here with you.

“You changed the bathroom floor?” 

“The grout got mouldy.”

“My eucalyptus?” 

“Dead. I didn’t know I had to move it to a bigger pot.”

“Hmph.That was expensive.”

“Should’ve taken it with you then, I always told you I can’t look after plants.”

“You were supposed to use your magic to listen to it’s every need. It makes it much easier, being able to talk to them.” 

“Well, I didn’t know how to do that when you left…” 

“So you know how to do it now?” 

“Are you gonna keep asking me these stupid questions, or will you move on to anything important?” 

“-Are you single?” 

“Yeah–” 

You’re cut off from your sentence with the familiar feeling of one of Rio’s firm, needy kisses. The ones that you'd learnt long ago not to fight for control, because she’d always beat you in that. 

“I missed you so much, baby” She mumbles against your lips as she pulls away only be a millimetre, as if not wanting to back away too far for fear of you pushing her away. 

“I missed you too, darling.” 

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!mingi x afab!reader

synopsis ✭ facesitting w/ pinkgi

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI

word count ✭ 853

note ✭ the voices won

warnings ✭ none really. a lot of talk about thighs (mingi loves thighs 🙂‍↕️), facesitting, multiple orgasms, ambiguous ending

✭ ✭ ✭

Mingi loved staying over at your place. He loved seeing the little items you had on your shelves that showed off your personality and interests. He loved lounging in your bed, breathing in your distinct scent from your sheets. And he fucking loved watching you walk out of the bathroom with damp hair and your body wrapped in a fluffy towel. Your skin, still slightly damp, reflecting the dim light from the lamp on your nightstand.

He watched from your bed as you rummaged through the dresser looking for a sleep shirt, shamelessly palming his dick through his sweats and biting his lip when you dropped the towel to slip the shirt over your head. 

When you moved over to the nightstand to grab underwear, he rolled from the middle of the bed to your side, swinging his legs off the edge.

Before you could even grab a pair of panties though, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you between his legs. 

“Hi,” you giggled at his eager attitude.

He hummed, “Hi baby.” His fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

You ran a hand through his hair, freshly dyed. “I like the new color.”

“Yeah?” He looked up at you with big eyes, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Well, I like you in any color,” His eyelids fluttered when you scratched his scalp, “But pink does suit you really well.”

“Thank you,” He was no longer looking up into your eye, though. You watched as he admired your thighs. Palming at them and massaging them with his hands.

You smiled and bit your lip, “Mingi.”

He only gave you a little hum of acknowledgement.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Will you let me sit on your face?”

That caught his attention. He brought his eye back to yours. “Really?”

You nodded.

“Fuuuck, baby,” He groaned, “Yeah. Please.”

—--

Being between your thighs was a fucking dream. In fact from the moment he took you out on your first date, he couldn’t help but imagine himself between those thighs. The way they’d looked under that black miny dress had his mind spinning.

He just never thought you’d ask him for this. He’d dreamt about it over and over and over again, but absolutely nothing could compare to the way you dripped all over his mouth and chin. You tasted fucking heavenly on his tongue.

The groan he let out when you pulled at his pink strands pulsed through you, causing you to whimper and grind down harder on his face. 

Even when you tried to lift yourself up off of him to give him a breath, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you back down. Your control over your legs dwindled as he kept pleasuring you with his tongue. He took full advantage of that and held you in place so he could have full uninterrupted access to your pussy. 

He fucking loved how vocal you were too. Whining and begging for more. Not even fully aware of what sounds came out of your mouth. He had you on his face for so long that you lost control of your words. Just needlessly begging for yet another orgasm. 

Neither of you knew how many times you’d come, but he fucking died every time your legs clenched up as squeezed his head as you came. And then you’d fall back onto his mouth where his tongue was waiting to toy with your swollen clit. 

And he’d do it over and over again. Your pleasure was his pleasure. Every whimper you made went straight through his ear and to his dick. And every time you came he got closer and closer to heaven. And each time he got closer the less controlled he became. He went from meticulously switching between sucking your clit and fucking you with his tongue to aimlessly grinding you over his face hoping that you’d come all over him (and you did).

For one last orgasm, he brought a thumb to your clit, so desperately rubbing your clit one final time. When you came, your thighs engulfed his head, pressing his ears and nearly crushing his skull. After you’d ridden his tongue through your high, you sat back on his chest, holding yourself up slightly with a hand beside his head.

Both of your breaths were heavy and erratic. Trying to make up for the loss of oxygen on both sides. 

“I think–fuck,” He still could hardly breath, “Shit.” He reached a hand behind you and palmed his, now softening, dick. 

“Holy shit,” you laughed breathlessly, “You came untouched.”

He nodded. “I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Yeah?” You teased, “So, if I asked you for another round tomorrow, you wouldn’t be opposed?”

“Fuck baby,” he groaned. “Not at all.”

“Ok, perfect. Because there’s something else I wanna try.”

He bit his lip at the suspense, but, fuck, he’d let you do anything you ever wanted to him. So it didn’t matter what little ideas you had floating in your head. He was ready for all of them.

[scientia-rex]

Seems unfair that I’ve been telling Machiavelli Dad stories for literal years and people still accused me of making him up. I ASSURE you I could not possibly create this man in fiction. He has an IQ in the 150s. He cares about IQ, so you know he’s a dick. He grew up in abject rural poverty and clawed his way through an associate’s degree in electrical engineering that no one wanted him to or thought he could get. He showed up to the final of one class drunk off his ass because his professor had said at the beginning, jokingly, that if anyone got their electrician’s license before the end of the class, they would have an automatic A, and of course he did. He met my mom when he parked in her spot at their apartment complex that did not, let me assure you, have assigned spots and she yelled at him. He read bedtime stories (mostly about trains and how electronics work) to me every night until I was at least like 8. His friend and roommate in that first apartment building tried to kill my mother’s Siamese cat (they owned at least like 6 over time) in a rage by shutting it in a cooler; it was freed in time. He got so mean by the time I was 12 that I remember one day he came home from work when me, my mom, and my sister were standing around the top of the stairs and without saying a word to each other we just scattered; he said, like he was angry-joking, “why is everybody running away?” And I said to him, “we’re scared of you.” I don’t remember what happened next. Dad didn’t beat us, but he’d threaten. He’d take off his belt and snap it as a threat. He once lived with a guy who made his own nitroglycerin as a hobby and threatened to detonate an entire dorm when his girlfriend left him. That friend once accidentally bought two boa constrictors. The reason Dad and I stopped talking was when I texted them that I had cancer and they left me on read. The reason I stopped talking to Dad was that I finally realized the word for what he did to all of us was abuse. He built a swing set in our back yard using two retired telephone poles he got from work. The ropes were so tall you could spin the swing up enough to unwind for like 4 straight minutes with zero effort. He thought about becoming a lineman once and practiced climbing on those swing set telephone poles. Hornets nested in there afterwards.

If I were going to create a fictional father, I would either love him more or love him less.

[spectorgram]

rooftop

dick grayson x f! reader content: nsfw implications but not actual nsfw word count: 1.0k

The brisk autumn breeze feels good against your skin as you climb up onto the rooftop of the Gotham Museum of Art, necklace in hand. You peer down at it, the ruby and sapphires winking back at you in the moonlight. It’s beautiful and you’re sure Selina will be able to raise its price even higher.

You stretch your arms up, enjoying the pull in your back, and you’re about to make your egress when your ears prick up. The sound of footsteps makes you smile; how considerate of him to announce his arrival. “Lovely night we’re having,” Nightwing says from behind you.

“Perfect for a nighttime stroll, no?” you reply.

“Looks like you’re here for a little more than that, Pantheress,” he says. 

You finally turn to face him, shamelessly drinking him in. The black and blue suit clings to him like a second skin and you bite the corner of your lip, meeting his eyes with a cheeky grin. “You’re more than welcome to join me on my walk,” you tell him.

Nightwing smiles back at you. “Sure thing,” he says. “I’ll just need to take that, though.” He motions to the jewelry in hand. 

“If that’s your condition, I guess we’ll have to take a rain check.” 

“I still can’t let you leave.”

“Aww, you like me that much, birdy?”

He gives you an exasperated look. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You hum, pretending to think as you stalk toward him. His eyes follow your moves and he doesn’t move, even as your chest brushes against him. You glance at him. What color are his eyes under that mask, you wonder. You imagine that they’re electric blue, just as pretty as the rest of him. “How about this?” You move your arm behind your back, tightening your grip on the necklace. “We do this my way.”

And in a flash, you take off. You leap from building to building, Nightwing not too far off. You slow just a little bit to glance back when the sound of footsteps disappear behind you. You smirk to yourself, but as you jump for another rooftop, a body intercepts you. 

Nightwing twists his body to take the brunt of the force and you tumble on top of him. You hastily try to regain footing but he flips, pinning you beneath him. You realized belatedly that the necklace is no longer in your hand, your head lifting to look around. Then, you see his Nightwing’s hand. You make one, quick grab at it but he’s faster, jerking his arm away, prompting you to sigh, “Thought we were having fun, Wing.”

“There’s nothing fun about theft, Pantheress.”

“You and I both know that rich assholes won’t be hurting too much from the loss,” you hiss at him.

“Stealing isn’t right,” he says firmly, “no matter what.” 

You roll your eyes. “But I don’t see you locking up any millionaires who are pushing people out of their neighborhoods and building luxury properties on top of them.”

“That’s because it’s within the confines of the law, and even if I don’t agree with it, it’s still legal.”

You scowl and swipe at him, the retractable claws in your gloves unsheathing. He dodges but the way he shifts his weight gives you just enough time to shove him off you and put some distance between the two of you. 

“You never go down without a fight,” he says, pocketing the necklace — you’re not even sure how it’s possible in that skin-tight suit — and reaching for the two escrima sticks strapped to his back. 

“I thought that’s what you like about me.” 

He lunges for your first and you leap away, bobbing and weaving underneath the swing of his escrima sticks. You claws graze the fabric of his suit, tearing a hole in the sleeve. You aim a kick at his chest but he drops one of his batons, using his free hand to grab your ankle and spin you off balance. Before you fall, you manage to grab him, pulling him down with you. You land on your chest, a strangled grunt leaving your lips as Nightwing lands on top of you. “We need to stop meeting like this,” you pant.

He snorts in amusement on top of you, sitting up. You scoff when you hear the clink of handcuffs. “Is that really necessary?”

“You know theft is a crime. I have to take you in.” As he tries to fasten one cuff around your left wrist, you start squirming, hoping your movements would throw him off guard. Instead, he holds a firm's hand on the center of your back. “Stop moving,” he hisses. It takes you a beat to realize there’s something hardening against your back.

You snicker, “Guess you really are happy to see me, birdy.”

For once, there’s no clever quip to come out of his mouth. You squirm more, delighting in the way he struggles to deal with you and stopping any sound from escaping. Then, Nightwing’s weight is thrown off you suddenly and the sounds of a small scuffle reach your ears. You take the chance to see Selina standing behind you. She tilts her head at you, smirking. “I’ve never had to bail you out like this, kitten.”

“My hero.” You peer over his shoulder. “Is the Bat following you?”

“Should be here shortly,” she says. “So we should take our leave.”

Before Nightwing has a chance to stop you again, Selina ushers you to the edge of the building and you two leap, disappearing into the night. 

Dick curses as he watches you fade into the darkness below. Bruce lands beside him, and Dick resheaths his escrima sticks. “They got away,” Bruce says, though he doesn’t sound too unhappy. 

“Yeah,” Dick replies. Next time, he’ll catch you. The thought excites him, makes him antsy for the next encounter. “At least we got the necklace back.” When he reaches into his pocket, he finds empty space. “Shit.”

a/n: i don’t think this is my finest work and it’s a bit rushed but i really wanted to write for one of my favorite and most beloved characters so i hope you enjoyed

[lowkeyhollland]

please please please

peter parker x reader "i beg you don't embarrass me motherfucker" 1k words

“y/n!” your best friend, melanie, ran up to hug you. “and you brought…” her voice trailed off at the end as she gestured to the brunette boy standing next to you. 

“oh! this is peter. he’s my uh,” you stumbled over your words, “friend?” it came out more as a question and you hoped no one noticed how unsure you were. you looked up and saw peter smirk. 

“friends that kiss?” he whispered in your ear and your cheeks flushed red. 

“so nice to meet you, peter! we’ve actually heard so much about you!” melanie pulled you two further into the party where all of your friends were. 

“oh have you now?” peter’s eyebrows quirked up, curious as to what could have been said about him. 

“it’s nothing.” you mumbled and crossed your arms over your body. “now just, don’t embarrass me. please?”

“honey, i could never embarrass you.” peter kissed your cheek and slipped his hand into yours as you two socialized with the rest of the group. 

the lights were flashing in the club as bodies were pressed up against each other. peter had told you that he was gonna grab you drinks and squeezed past the sea of people toward the bar. you continued to dance with your friends, singing along to the music with a smile plastered on your face. 

“where’s your boy?!” one of your friends asks. you looked around the club and realized peter was nowhere to be found. you mentally sighed as he had, once again, disappeared with no warning. 

“he said he wasn’t feeling well,” you lied. “but you know! he’s like irish or something and they’re really good at irish goodbyes. it’s just, uh, in his culture.” you messed with your rings, looking side to side and hoped your friends were drunk enough to not see through your lies. 

“oh!” that was all that came out of all of their mouths. a part of you wanted to rip out peter’s hair for leaving without telling you while the other part just wanted to die from embarrassment. 

you seriously just had to leave again?? 

you texted him and to no avail, there was no response. letting out a frustrated sigh, you continued to dance with your friends to try and forget about the night. 

you took an uber home, not trusting to walk by yourself in the dark. melanie had offered to let you crash at her place, but you politely declined as you didn’t want to be around anyone. 

of course, you just had to fall for peter parker who’s notorious for never being anywhere— ever. and the cherry on top of it all was no matter how many times you texted him calling him a dick tonight, no response. absolutely ghosted. 

you stumbled through your apartment, the whole world still spinning from the amount of shots you took tonight. kicking off your heels, you turned on the lights, revealing a red & blue masked man standing in the middle of your living room. 

“i’m either super drunk right now or spiderman is actually in my house.” you slurred, squinting your eyes as if it would help you see him. he just stood there as you walked up to him. running your hand over his chest, peter’s breath hitched. 

“i, uh,” peter coughed and you pulled your hand away. 

“how did you get in?” 

“your window was unlocked. that isn’t very safe.”

“i live on the tenth floor. what’s gonna happen? a bird trying to attack me?” you snorted. 

“you never know, birds are quite dangerous.” it was hard to see his expression with his mask on and it took everything in you to not pull the mask away. 

“as fun as this would be,” you gestured to him. “i was just ditched tonight and would love to be alone so i can cry in peace.” you opened your window to encourage the masked hero to swing away. “bye spidey.” you waved at him as you walked to your room. 

peter knew it was now or never. he webbed your wrist to pull you back, stumbling as you were buried in his chest. he quickly took off his mask, breathing heavily as you stood there wide eyed. 

“look, i’m so sorry for ditching you tonight. especially with all of your friends.” he started. you didn’t know what to say. peter, your peter, was spiderman. whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck. “and i know you really wanted me there—“

“what the fuck.” you blurted out. peter’s eyebrows furrowed together, confused about your reaction, but his face softened when he really thought about it. 

“oh yeah. i’m spiderman.”

“i can see that.” you bluntly said. “motherfucker, spiderman embarrassed me tonight?! you could have at least told me to leave too so we could make it seem like we were hooking up!” 

“is that still an option?” peter smirked and you smacked his arm. “ow..”

“you literally left me. that’s what you get.”

“i’m really, really sorry. there was a robbery and this guy had a gun and— i’m sorry, y/n. i should have just told you.” his head hung low and you frowned. you lifted his head so you could see his face. there were small bruises and cuts and it made you sad to see him physically hurt. 

“it’s okay. i mean, my boyfriend is literally a superhero. how cooler can i get?” his face lit up and broke into the biggest smile ever. 

“boyfriend?” you smiled back at him and nodded. 

“yeah, boyfriend.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, tangling your hands in his hair. his arms still wrapped around your waist as he smiled into the kiss. 

“so is that other option still available?” he asked once you both pulled away, his lips tugging into a smirk. you rolled your eyes and pushed his head away lightly. 

“ask again when you actually stay at an event the entire time when you’re with me.” you started to walk away to your room and he chased after you. 

“aw, c’mon babe. it was a joke!”

[princessbrunette]

gf reader and bf rafe but he used to pick on her before they started dating so she teases him about going from a bully to a simp

i feel like i never write rafe in a good mood so here it is :*

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

you sit on the kitchen counter swinging your legs, watching him count a load of money on the table. you wore his shirt, the man having just fucked you within an inch of your life not even twenty minutes prior.

as you existed domestically in the moment, you thought of your past with rafe, your days at school together. think of a stereotypical jock; backwards cap and letterman jacket. that was rafe. you were quiet, kept to your self more— and rafe wasn’t necessarily mean to you at school, a few years your senior — but he was young, a dick, and did stupid shit to get your attention because he thought you were sweet and wouldn’t stand up to him. just stuff like shutting your locker as he’d walk past, or taking things from you and holding them out of your reach, or purposely blocking your path in the hallway, continuing to blockade you each time you tried to move around him. usual stupid stuff.

a few years down the line, and he still occasionally messed with you — but he loved you, and loved you hard so it made up for it. you giggle to yourself, the man glancing over his shoulder at you distractedly.

“wha’s funny?”

“just thinking about school, how you’d pick on me… and now look at you, whipped.” you make yourself laugh, watching him huff a chuckle out of his nose as he shakes his head.

“dont you think saying i picked on you is… a tad exaggerated?” he drawls, neatening the stack he made before folding it and clipping it, turning to face you, deciding to entertain the conversation.

“i dunno, you were kind of a menace.” you tilt your head cutely as he approached you slowly until he’s caging you in, hands leaning on the counter top either side of where you sit.

“a menace, okay— yeah, n’what am i now then, huh?” he quietens his voice, tilting his head, the word tease practically scribbled across his forehead.

you lean in like you’re gonna kiss him, giggle bubbling up inside you as you speak. “pussywhipped.”

he pushes off the counter with a tight lipped yet amused smile, shaking his head. “alright, yeah— should have seen that one coming.”

you giggle, trying to pull him back to you with your feet as he steps away but remain unsuccessful as he walks back to the table to continue his organising.

“from bully to simp.” you muse happily, rafe scoffing lightheartedly with his back to you once more.

“good pussy will do that to a man, what can i say?” his response is slow, distracted as he counts under his breath, pocketing a wad as you watch him.

“oh is that what it is?” you can’t contain your happy giggles, head still airy from the fucking he gave you earlier.

“s’exactly what it is. why you bringin’ this up, huh? you miss bein’ bullied or something?” he peeps over his shoulder once more when he hears the flats of your feet hit the ground, padding over to bother him.

“so you admit you picked on me?” you smile coyly despite his back being to you and he promptly changes this, slowly spinning on his heel with a smirk.

“i’ll admit anything you want if it gets you to shut up ‘bout this.” he lightly taps the top of your head with a wad of money, making you squeeze your eyes shut with a delighted giggle once more.

“deal.” your hands slide up his chest to snake round his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

[strangersteddierthings]

February 2

rating: T cw: period-typical slurs, mild violence prompt: Love is protection

The punch doesn't land. Michael stands frozen before him, arm raised to swing as they both turn towards the shout on instinct.

Eddie watches in slow motion as Steve Harrington sprints down the alley towards them as if summoned from Eddie's fantasies directly, determination on his face. The world returns to its regular speed as Steve reaches them.

Steve takes hold of Michael's arm at the same time Eddie feels himself stagger back several feet from where the new altercation is happening. It's not a conscious decision to put some space between himself and Michael, he's too busy watching Steve use his momentum to make Michael spin with him, or risk getting his arm broken, to think too much about what his body is doing.

Steve lets go of Michael suddenly, which sends him slamming into the wall of the bar Eddie and he had exited just minutes before.

"Come on!" Steve shouts, suddenly in front of Eddie and grabbing him by the wrist, dragging him down the alley until Eddie gets his feet under him and then they're both running. Steve takes a right, and even though Eddie's van is to the left, he follows. He can come back for the van and might actually prefer to. He doesn't want Michael to see what he drives.

They run a few blocks down before ducking into a different alleyway. It's not necessary, this much distance and the hiding. Michael wouldn't give chase. Eddie knew from experience that they rarely do, the men that don't like hearing no.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, immediately assessing Eddie for damage. His shoulder kind of smarts from when Michael shoved him against the wall, there's a dull ache from his scalp where his hair had been yanked at, and he thinks if he takes off his jacket there will be a mark on his upper arm where Michael grabbed him when Eddie changed his mind and tried to leave, but physically that's it. Mentally, though?

Mentally, Steve just rescued him from a man that could be his twin, so that's got to be telling. Well, twin is a bit of a stretch. There were no moles dotting Michael like constellations, no signature hair swoop (though hair length was almost a perfect match), and his butt was far too flat but there's no way to deny he was a stand in for who Eddie actually wanted. Michael was even a jock, given what little Eddie and he had spoken about before heading outside to smoke, or so Eddie had thought.

So, all in all, is Eddie okay? No!

"Yeah. Yeah, fine," Eddie says.

"That guy threw you into the wall."

The adrenaline is fading, and shame replaces it. Why is Steve here? How much of what happened did he witness? "And I'm fine. Thanks for the assist, but what are you even doing here?"

Steve frowns at him. "I was- I just, just was checking in on you. You weren't answering the phone and Dustin was-"

"But how are you here!? How long have you been here?" Eddie interrupts, "how did you know where to find me?"

Steve takes a step back, puts a little distance between them. "I just drove around until I saw your van."

Eddie blinks at him. "You drove around Indy, searching for my van. How- what?"

"Yeah! And lucky I did," Steve says, like the idea of searching all of Indianapolis for one van isn't insane. "That guy was gonna kick your ass if I hadn't shown up!"

"He'd of gotten a few good punches in before I got away," Eddie waves off Steve's concern. "Not my first rodeo, Stevie."

"This happens often? Why do you keep coming back!?"

"Why does the faggot keep going to gay bars? Gee, I don't think we'll ever know, Steve," Eddie sneers, defensive for no reason. He hates that he does thing. That he lashes out at people just concerned for his safety. Steve just threw a guy into a wall for daring to try and punch him, why can't he just be grateful?

Steve scowls, "why're you being a dick to me? What the fuck did I do?"

Eddie lets out a sigh, "Nothing you don't usually do."

Steve throws up his hands and marches in a circle, apparently too frustrated for words and Eddie hates how smitten he is. It's adorable. Steve's anger is cute, and that's the problem. That's why he was at that bar, a gay bar, in the first place. To wallow in his unrequited love and maybe get off with a stranger he could pretend was Steve if he squinted and it was dark.

And now the man he is hopelessly in love with has come and saved him, once again; this time from a man who wanted something Eddie wasn't going to give in an alleyway at 3:30 in the afternoon, who didn't take "no" well, and everything had escalated from there.

"What do you want me to say, Steve? Thank you for protecting me? Thank you for always managing to show up exactly when I need you? If so, thank you!"

"Why does it bother you that I care if you're safe or not!"

"Because it's you!" Eddie screams.

Steve's eyes widen and his lips part in shock, a look that morphs into hurt. "I... see. I- let me walk you back to your van and I'll get outta your hair."

Eddie hates that he's hurt Steve, because he's an asshole that lashes out. He knows that whatever conclusion Steve's come to in his mind is wrong. He knows that Steve is blaming himself, trying to find out where he went wrong but he didn't. Eddie did.

"Not yet. Please. If Michael's still there I don't want him to see what car I get into. Y'know. Just in case." Eddie doesn't say it to get sympathy points, but he watches as Steve softens anyway.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

They wait in silence, and Eddie hates how tense it feels. But he made this bed.

-

Continued with tomorrow's prompt.

@steddielovemonth @nburkhardt @i-less-than-three-you @afewproblems @skepsiss

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 12

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: a tragic but necessary lack of Jason in this chapter, reader's friend calls her a bitch (affectionately), talks about insecurities wc: 2k

Chapter Selection

“Bitch, get out here already!” Stella called from her perch on my couch.

I chuckled softly, slowly entering the living room. It felt so strange to have such a fancy gown on in my dinky little apartment, but Stella had pulled the best friend card, so of course I had to show it to her! I did a little spin so she could see the full effect.

She gasped softly, covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh my fucking god…”

“... What?”

“God, you look like a princess!” She squealed before pouting a bit. “It's downright criminal that you're not even going to ask them about letting me tag along! I want the princess treatment too!”

I chuckled, smoothing out the skirt. “I'm not going to ask favors of people I barely know, Stell!”

“So ask your boyfriend, you know him!”

“Next time. I don't want it to look like I'm using him for his family connections, or his money.”

She sighed; “I guess you have a point … hey, he's got brothers, any of them single? Maybe I could swing my own invite to this thing!”

“... You know what, I don't know if Dick is single or not. … Tim's got a boyfriend, so the only definitely single one is the fourteen years old.”

She sighed, throwing herself back on the armrest. “Lame… well, at least let me live vicariously through you; what are you gonna wear with it?”

“... Elaborate?”

She raised an eyebrow; “jewelry, shoes? Oh! Let me do your hair and makeup, pleeeaaaase let me do your hair and makeup for the gala!”

“... Jewelry; I don't know. Shoes; these black heels Stephanie helped me find - she said they're the most comfortable heels she's ever worn, I just have to wear them for a few hours at a time the week before. Hair and makeup; yes, you can be in charge.”

Stella beamed, clapping excitedly. “Ok! Go get changed, we're going shopping!”

“We- … I literally just put this on, now you want it off???”

“We have to get you some jewelry to go with your dress!” She grinned, shoving me toward the bedroom. “Unless you think he's going to get you something special? Should we leave your options open?”

“Oh god, he better not… Nah, he wouldn't. The only reason I let him buy the dress was because I couldn't afford to do it myself, he knows that.”

“... Girl, you are the only person I know who could be handed a golden opportunity to be a sugar baby and wouldn't take it. What is wrong with you? Do you like the diner that much?”

She helped me out of the dress, hanging it back up and zipping the garment bag around it while I found some casual clothes to wear. “Not particularly, but I do like my independence. I do like knowing that if something went wrong I would still be able to take care of myself. And I definitely like knowing that I'm not relying on a man I've known for less than a year to pay my rent.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Ok, but … what if you guys got married? Would you let him pay the rent then?”

“In that highly unlikely scenario? Sure, why not?” We kicked our shoes on and headed down toward the bus stop.

“What do you mean ‘unlikely’?”

“... He's who he is, and I'm who I am. … I love him, Stella. I think I probably would marry him if he asked, but honestly, … sometimes I still wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. I mean, come on; he is so hot-”

She groaned her approval; “indeed~”

“-and sweet, and clever, I just … what on earth does he see in me??” I sighed softly, fidgeting with the strap of my purse.

“Um, hello? Beautiful, smart, kind, generous, creative; gee, I wonder what he could possibly like about you!” She smacked the back of my head gently; “do I need to shout your many excellent qualities to the whole street? Cause I fucking will!”

I snickered, shoving her off of me. “Ok, ok! Yes, I have many good qualities. But still, we don't exactly make sense together; he's a Wayne, he could have anything and anyone he wants, and I'm-”

“What he wants.”

“-broke, the fact that we met at all makes no sense.”

“Yes, thank god for the weird pushy brothers, we must remember to include them in our prayers.” She rolled her eyes affectionately as the bus pulled up and we got on.

“He is built like Hercules-”

“And you're built like Aphrodite - thick thighs, soft squeezable curves, excellent tits.”

I snorted; “you show me the Aphrodite statue with a tummy like this, please. Stella, be real. I know I'm pretty - I'm not questioning that. I know Jason doesn't think there's anything wrong with my body, and I don't dislike my body myself. It's just … I also know what the women who are typically at these events look like. I've heard the comments my whole life, I know what people think of bigger girls, and … at a certain point it gets disheartening … I don't want to look out of place next to him.”

She pinched my cheeks between her hands, staring into my eyes. “Now you listen here; you are not allowed to be this defeatist about my best friend and her hunky boyfriend's future. Got that? Yeah, you're in totally different tax brackets, now. But you can't forget, he's the Wayne boy that got lifted out of Crime Alley. He didn't look like he belonged there at first either. Hell, maybe that's one of the things he likes about you; you're kind, and practical, and you don't care about his status.

At this point he's probably used to girls tripping over themselves to say, be, and do whatever he wants because he's a Wayne, not because they like him. We have established that this is not some convoluted college boy prank. He likes you. He's been devoted to you for months; I know because I have barely seen you - you’re always together. He wants to show you off in front of all those one-percenters at that gala. You are what he wants. Sit back and enjoy the ride, girl; stop looking for car crashes!”

Stella gave me a firm look as she released my face, and I slowly nodded; “... You feel better?”

“Much.” She grinned; “you?”

“Much.” She nodded happily and hugged me. I leaned against her, looking out the window for our stop.

Stella pulled me along to store after store, insisting I needed the proper undergarments for a gown like that, then that I should have a new perfume - “not a bath and body works body spray, a proper perfume” for special events -, then since we were already there she wanted to pick the perfect nude lip color for me. Finally, we ended up at the jewelry store. 

“Are you thinking gold or silver?” She peered into the display case.

“I don't know … maybe gold? … Nothing too expensive obviously… maybe a ruby pendant, to match the dress?”

The store clerk ignored us while we looked through the options, busying herself with something at the register. I was looking at a necklace with a gold chain and a teardrop shaped ruby pendant when she hurried over behind the counter. “Hello, Mr. Drake-Wayne! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Stella and I jumped a bit, turning to look behind us. And there was Tim, and Duke. Duke had his usual smile ready for us, but Tim simply raised an eyebrow at the associate. “... These ladies were here first.”

Her smile fell just a bit. “O- oh, of course. Um, … ladies?”

“... We're fine for now, thanks. … Hi Tim.” I chuckled softly; “have you upgraded from running background checks to actual stalking?”

Duke laughed, elbowing me playfully, and Tim groaned softly. “I'm sorry, ok?”

“I know, and I forgive you. You had to protect your family, there's nothing wrong with that. But I now have the right to tease you about it forever.”

Stella elbowed me firmly, wide eyed. “Ow! … Tim, Duke, this is Stella, Stella - Duke, and Tim.”

She grinned, holding out her hand for Duke to shake. “Hi! Wow, I can't believe I'm finally meeting a few of you!”

I chuckled softly. “Yeah, so what are you guys doing here?”

“Just hanging out, but we saw you over here and figured we should make sure you aren't looking at anything for the gala?”

“... Yeah, why?” I raised an eyebrow.

Duke grinned, shaking his head; “then stop.”

“... Jason knows I don't like him spending a bunch of money on me, and he already bought my dress…”

“Girl, get over it. It's a gala, let him get you nice things!” Stella grinned.

Tim tilted his head, frowning; “why don't you want him to spend money on you?”

“... I don't know how to explain this to you Tim. Just, … suffice it to say, Jason knows I don't want him doing that. So why should I not be looking at jewelry?”

The boys looked at each other, having some kind of silent conversation, before back to me; “... Look, just trust us? … We'll help you pick some earrings!”

Duke grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the necklaces. I followed, frowning a bit; “... Alright, but only because I trust Jay…”

Tim nodded, clearly relieved, and the boys started looking through the earring options. Stella followed along, offering her opinions as well. Finally, they had it down to a pair of earrings they insisted was perfect. Only problem was they were $500.

“Jesus Christ, Tim, what's with the bougie taste?” I sighed, setting them back down.

“What? They're perfect!”

“That's like … half my rent, rich boy!”

“... Ok, so I'll get them for you.”

“... Tim, if I don't want Jason spending this kind of money on me, what makes you think it's ok for you to?”

He shrugged; “cause I'm not going to sleep with you after?”

Duke smacked him, wide eyed; “um, dude???”

Stella blinked, not sure what to make of this, and I fixed Tim with my best ‘are you fucking serious?’ look.

“... Is the problem with Jay spending money not that it would make you feel bought and paid for?” Tim frowned, looking me over. “Huh, I'm not usually wrong ... Ok, sorry then. … I really don't understand though, what's the issue if not that?”

“... If I let him buy me too much too quickly it will start turning into a situation where I need him. If he's getting me expensive gifts, and paying my rent, and buying my groceries, how is he supposed to know that any steps we take in our relationship are because we want to take them, and not because I feel like I owe him for funding my lifestyle?”

A glimmer of understanding filled Tim's eyes, and he nodded slowly, a little grin on his face. “Ohhh, you're good. … Figure out what you want to do with your life, a brain like yours is too valuable to be wasted.”

I chuckled softly, nodding once. “I'll get right on that.”

Tim nodded. “Ok, so … let me get the earrings. Cause if I get them, we can say we're even for the whole stalking and background check thing.”

I thought for a moment. I liked having the upper hand on him, it was funny watching him squirm, but I also really did like the earrings, and they would look incredible with the dress. Plus, I wanted to look like I belonged at the gala, and these earrings would help me do that. “... Hmm … Deal. You'll buy the earrings, and I'll stop teasing you with the background check.”

He grinned and nodded, turning back to the counter and the store associate. “Alright, the lady will take these, and those matching hair pins.” He pointed to a set for $300.

“Wha- Tim???” I stared at him.

He smiled brightly; “those are my gift to you. You've been a good sport about a lot of weird shit, and … I haven't seen Jason this happy in a long time.”

“... You're not allowed to get me a Christmas present.”

He shrugged, smiling. “Ah, but you will be around for Christmas? Good.”

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Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa

[abadbitchblogs]

SOS

Part 1

Pairing: Jey Uso x OC x Damian Priest

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.6k

a/n: Ya girl is alive y’all! I wanted to revamp this because I felt like y'all deserved more! Thank you to everyone who has supported me and my work. I love y'all!  All likes, comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!

-divider by @cafekitsune

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as the entire roster hooped and hollered in  celebration of Trin’s return at the Royal Rumble. While shots, champagne and cocktails were being thrown back, all Amirah could do was watch the way her best friend humbly received the love she deserved with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. It was such a full circle moment for her; comforting Trinity when leaving the company broke her, supporting her decision to join Impact! Wrestling, then experiencing the reception of her homecoming. Watching her fall back into the swing of things like she never left felt so satisfying. Before she could spiral into an emotional breakdown, a large hand waving in her face snapped her out of her thoughts making her scrunch her nose in confusion. “Aye, girl! You good?” Jimmy’s furrowed brows and jutted out bottom lip came into focus, immediately coaxing a laugh out of her. Jimmy was one person that you could count on to lift your spirits without even trying- he was the textbook definition of goofy.

“I'm good, promise!” If he doubted she was telling the truth, the content glimmer in her eyes deterred him from pressing the matter any further. Instead, she looped her arm with his and dragged him back over to their friends where they could enjoy their night out. Plopping down on the sectional next to Trinity, the group of superstars fell into easy conversation catching up with those who are on a different brand as they only see each other during the major PLEs. Somehow the chat turned into the couples pestering the single people; i.e Bayley and Amirah. Bay may have fought to defend herself, but she just found their concern amusing. “Listen. I don't treat being single like a punishment. I love being by myself. I aint gotta worry about nobody cheating on me, nobody resenting me for my career or trying to police my body.” No lies were detected as they all had no choice but to agree. Relationships in their business were hard whether you were with a fellow pro wrestler or a regular person. “Besides, the chances of finding real love like y’all are slim as hell!”

“I know that's right!” Bianca gloated; her and Montez’s reality show was doing so well that they were WWE’s IT couple. Mirah playfully chucked a straw at their girlfriend while Trin, Bay, and Jade were too busy laughing at her EST antics surfacing outside of the ring. “ What about you and Damian? I be seeing y’all posted up looking cozy?” The question got a chorus of ‘oooohs’ from the women, but Bayley  made a face of disgust at her friends’ insinuation. “Girl no. We're just good friends. That man doesn't have a committal bone in his body.” Amirah hummed in affirmation having heard the rumors about Damian Priest and his revolving door of women. “I'm honestly surprised that the two of you aren’t close. He's from New York, you're from New York. He's single and you've sworn off relationships. And I know you like them a little older.” The woman’s jaw dropped at Bayley’s insane attempt at matchmaking. “Girl are you trying to set me up with a sneaky link?” That sent all of the women into another uncontrollable fit of laughter. “You do need some dick.” Trin wheezed out, furthering Amirah’s appalled facial expression before she swatted her best friend’s arm. “You know what? I’m out of here.” A laugh bubbled out of her as she stood dramatically from their huddle only to turn and lock eyes with Jey Uso.

There he was hugging his twin with his chocolate orbs boring into her chestnut ones. Spinning on her heel,  she suggested the girls go down to the dance floor for a song or two. “Come on y'all. We can't let this night pass without shaking a lil something.” Clasping Trinity’s hands, she pulled her to her feet then tugged her towards the stairs with a “We’re going downstairs to dance for a little bit, Jim,” thrown over her shoulder. They scurried by without waiting for a response although she knew Jimmy and Montez were going to follow them anyway to keep an eye on the group. One of the things that Amirah and Trinity bonded over was their love of music and dance with both of them being former dancers. As much as Jimmy hated it when Trin showed her ass, he was going to have to suck it up tonight because they were owed some time to let loose. All that is holy must've been on their side because as soon as they made it to the center of the dancefloor, Twerk by the City Girls and Cardi B blared on the speakers. “Come on, Trin! Lemme see something!” It was always fun to get Trin and Bianca to cut up because Trin was going to kill it every time but Bianca had no damn rhythm. The club was playing banger after banger after banger after banger. If they weren't professional athletes, their feet and edges would be shot to hell. Amirah was throwing her ass back on Trinity, both of them cackling at Jade and Bayley trying to show B how to catch the beat when the tempo slowed to a ballad.  Of course it was a song that a nigga always dedicated to her to make her feel special and now it pissed her off.

This is for you, you, my number one This is for you, you, my number one Oh, yeah, yeah-yeah This is for you, you, my number one

Sucking her teeth as Jimmy giddily cut in for a slow dance with his wife, Mirah cut through the crowd to head back to their section for another drink when she bumped into the only person she did not want to see. His grills seemed to glow in the low light of the club but before he could get a word out, she took a sharp left in search of the restroom. A wave of nausea crawled through her body and she needed to gather herself after coming in contact with that parasite. Just when her hand grasped the doorknob of the ladies room for a moment of solitude, a large hand engulfed her other wrist pausing her movements. “Mirah…” She didn’t even need to turn around to know who the trifling ass voice belonged to. Calmly snatching her wrist from his hold, she shifted her weight to one foot with a snarl etched on her gloss coated lips. “I’m sorry. Do we know each other?” Jey’s eyes softened at her faux confusion as he took a step toward her and her, taking a step back to keep space between them. “Mirah, come on. I just wanna talk to you. I wanna explain myself.” His pleading only made the bile in her throat rise, making her face twist in disgust. 

“Nigga, you should’ve thought about talking to me before you just cut me off like I was some random bitch.” Her words dripped with malice in hope of it being enough to get him to leave her alone. “We ain’t got shit to talk about as far as I’m concerned.” Shoulder checking him as she walked by, not even wanting to be in the same building as him, Jey fought the urge to reach out to her again. He knew getting her to talk to him would be near impossible, but he was determined. Amirah was worth taking accountability and uncomfortable conversations. 

Amirah shuffled through the sea of bodies on the dance floor to find her friends and wish them a goodnight. Trinity spotted the agitated look on her best friend’s face immediately even though she tried to plaster a smile over it. “What happened, boo?” Trin’s brows furrowed in worry only to have Mirah wave it off. “Nothing! I’m good. I’m just going to call it night. That liquor ain’t sitting right in my stomach.” The lie came out faster than she could even register, but it wasn’t a total lie. That bastard did indeed make her sick to her stomach. “Oh okay! We’ll go back with you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.” Gesturing for Jimmy to come over to the two of them, Amirah shook her head in protest. “Hell no. You stay and keep celebrating. You deserve it! I’ll be fine! I already called an Uber and I’ll text you when I’m back in my room.” Pulling her bestie into a tight embrace, she gave her a fat kiss on the cheek before moving to hug their group of friends goodbye. Much to her delight, no one questioned her sudden decline of health too much, just the request of a text message to let them know when she got back to the hotel. With a promise that she would text them as soon as she got in, Mirah flew to the exit of the club like a bat out of hell. 

Sucking in a breath of fresh air, the feeling of relief washed over her soothing the queasiness that plagued her. The Florida streets were surprisingly peaceful at night, allowing her to fully collect herself and actually call an Uber so she just wasn’t standing outside of the club like a lame. As she pulled her phone out of her black purse, the club’s doors opened once more flooding the silence with music. A tap on her shoulder made her slap a friendly smile on her face in case it was a fan wanting an autograph or a picture. But, it was neither and her smile morphed into one of shock when she came face to face with Señor Money in the Bank. Damian was dark and broody so she did not expect to see him at a nightclub, but if his reputation precedes him then he was here for a woman- or two. “Señor Money in the Bank. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Wiping the shock off her face, she mirrored his playful and dare she say- flirty smirk. “Well I was by the bar when I saw you rush out so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Feigning surprise, Amirah placed a hand over her heart and cooed at his sweet gesture. “Wait until everyone finds out that Señor Playboy is a gentleman.”

Her teasing pulled a chuckle out of him as he cocked a brow in question. “Playboy huh?” “Mhmm I’ve heard about you.” Laughing once more, Damian accepted defeat but pushed for info on his supposed playboy reputation. “So you’ve been asking about me?” Zeroing in on Amirah’s smaller frame with his almost charcoal gaze, it was her turn to laugh. “You wish.”  His smile broadened at her bratty comeback before he very noticeably gave her a once over. “¡Te ves hermosa.” Damian’s eyes met hers again with his gravelly voice scratching her brain deliciously. Maybe Bayley was right; he was fun. “Oh I know.” Mirah shot down his suave Spanish approach smugly, crossing her arms over her chest. “¿Hablas español?” “No, but you pick up a few things when you live in Harlem for a while.” 

Both intrigued and amused by the other superstar’s answer, Damian vowed to get to know her better in any capacity. “You know I was actually heading back to the hotel myself. Why don’t we share a ride? Uber is already on the way.” After contemplating getting in a car with him, Amirah pointed an accusatory finger at him. “If you insist, BUT no funny business.” Raising his hands in mock surrender, he flashed another cheek numbing smile at her. “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” Slapping his chest for his dramatics, she couldn’t help her own snicker which he ate all the way up. 

Their Uber pulled up two minutes later and like the gentleman he was, Damian had helped her climb into the truck before getting in after she was comfortable. “So do you still live in New York?” He pried quietly while they enjoyed their ride back to the hotel. “Sure do.” She replied proudly, watching the palm trees go by as the car rolled on. “Me too. Maybe we could be travel partners.” Humming in thought, she turned to him with a soft smile. “Yeah maybe. I don’t know how often I can be seen with you in public though before people start talking.” He chortled at the woman’s response before giving his own, “Fair enough.” The rest of their car ride was occupied with a game of 21 questions about themselves and their interests outside of wrestling. Coming to a stop outside of the hotel, the pair thanked the driver for his service and Damian exited the car first on the other side to come around and help her out. She could only laugh to herself about him turning on the charm heavily. When they entered the elevator, Mirah noticed that the taller man didn’t press a button for his floor so she shot him a quizzical look. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door?” 

With a playful eyeroll she muttered a ‘whatever’ and let the space fill with a comfortable silence. At least she’d be able to get up early for a workout and the night turned out… interesting. A ding broke both of them out of their thoughts as they shuffled off the elevator on the 14th floor. Amirah could feel his eyes studying the swing of her hips while she led him to her room. Abruptly stopping at her door, Damian almost crashed into the back of her too focused on how she managed to walk in those killer shoes effortlessly. “This is me.” She stated, leaning against her door curious to see how the night would end. “Well I think my job here is done. You have arrived safely.” “That reminds me.” Before her friends put out an APB for her, she texted in their group chat that she had mad it back to her room. “Thank you for the escort. I appreciate it.” “It was my pleasure and if you don’t mind,” Damian carefully slid her phone into his hand and input his number. “You know in case I can be of service to you again.” Peering at him through squinted eyes she gave him a drawn out nod. “Riiiiiiiiight.” 

Smirking down at her for the last time, he gently took her hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss on her knuckles while gazing into her cocoa colored eyes. “M’lady, I bid you farewell.” And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall in long strides. Entering her hotel room and shutting the door behind her, Amirah collapsed against the door like women in romcoms. Girl what the fuck just happened. Taking in another deep breath, she headed to the bathroom for a much needed shower and to wring her damn panties out. Wait until she tells the girls about what just happened. Before she climbed into the shower to wash off the scent of booze, lust and worn leather, she shot the mysterious man a text of what she meant to say before he left her utterly speechless. 

{Princesa: Goodnight 🖤}

{Papi Chulo: Buenas noches hermosa 🖤}

mirrormirah

mirrormirah Your favorite athlete's favorite athlete 🖤

Liked by archerofinfamy, trinity_fatu and 482,719 others

View all 25,826 comments

trinity_fatu THAT'S MY FRIEND 🥳

⤿ mirrormirah BEST FRIEND!!!! get it right!

biancabelairwwe the finEST

⤿ mirrormirah That's all you bby ❤️

theyluvjeannie80 I know that's right !!!!!

⤿ mirrormirah I luv you boo 😘

archerofinfamy 😈

⤿ mirrormirah 🥰

⤿ bossglowstandard oop 👀👀

jadecargill sexy af 🥵

⤿ mirrormirah trying to get like you 😋

Taglist:

@empressdede @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @alichesmi @reci1996 @2-muchsauce @cyberdejos2 @southerngirl41 @brie-mode-activated @piinklemonad3 @lucidddreamerrr

[teddybeartoji]

SO MICKEY,, I am having thoughts. I don’t read hybrid fics Usually, but I saw your puppy Satoru post and,, as a fellow piss enjoyer what are your thoughts on him with that? Something something he wants you to pee on him to mark him as yours something something he begs for it,, I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS LIKE. GOOD WITH HYBRIDS but it just sounds yeah,, I don’t know if this is a request but I trust that you will see my vision ily

PISS ENJOYERS UNITEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HI REM MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!

OK BUT YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABT HIM WANTING YOU TO PEE ON HIM!!!!!!!!! THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! like yes puppy!satoru likes the idea of him pissing on you to mark you up (he does it too ofc) but something about YOU marking HIM up is just sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo crazy. it makes him crazy.

he begs for it. you're laying down on your back as he grinds into you - you're still both clothed, just humping each other like dogs (hehe pun inteded). he's nipping at your neck, he's sucking on your nipples, he's just fucking licking you - he can't get enough. you see his tail wagging from the corner of your eye and fuck, you just feel so dizzy already. but then you feel something else too, a pressure in your lower tummy.

you try to push him off, mumbling quietly about needing to go to the bathroom and his eyes fucking shine. he kisses the side of your mouth with a raspy "yeah?". he doesn't budge, he literally does the opposite - he presses himself flush against you, pushing your one knee up at his hips so he can be even closer to you.

"i wan' you to do it." he whines. you feel him smile against you and you feel a bit embarrassed at the thought. does he actually want you to do it?

"wan' you to mark me yours. c'mon, please... pretty please, baby."

he whimpers into your ear and it doesn't take long for him to convice you to do it. to let go.

and when you finally do... oh my fucking god. satoru creams his pants immediately. IMMMMEDIATELY. the second he feels the warmth spreading all over you and himself, he tears his eyes from you just to stare at where the two of you are connected with a slack jaw. he pushes his hips into yours as he makes a mess in his own pants aswell, your piss mixing with his cum through the material. he's fucking elevated. he has never felt this good in his entire fucking life.

when he looks back up at you with a bashful grin and finds you trying to hide your face into the pillow below you, he nuzzles his nose at your cheek. "i'm yours now. i'm your mate now." he licks your skin, kisses your jaw - he really can't stop touching you. "i love you."

he's as affectionate as ever, possibly even more so now. he cradles your face as he gently makes you look at him. you're so warm and he feels so proud. "don't hide..."

he litters your face with sloppy kisses for a while before starting to trail down your body. the smell of you and your piss is making his head spin and he can't stop smiling. he's just so happy!

his tail swings violently behind him, his ears twitch as you squirm when he kisses your completely soaked center. he locks eyes with you and licks the material, his own dick starting to harden again.

anyway!!!! hehehhehehe puppy!satoru loves you and he loves piss and he loves it when you piss on him, it makes him feel so loved!!!!!! he will eat you out after it to show his appreciation!!!!!!!!!

[fleshbride]

PRESENTING . . . I HATE U!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ HAJIME KASHIMO X BLK! F! READER SMUT.

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW: one-sided enemies to lovers, rough sex, vaginal fingering, edging, ruined orgasm, degradation, choking, breeding kink, spitting, hairpulling, cervix fucking, size kink, dumbification, overstimulation, dacryphilia, dick drunk y/n & pussy drunk kashimo, pussy slapping, usage of the names princess, angel, baby, slut & whore. soft! kashimo at the end.

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc: 3.8k

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ i went a little crazy on this one to be honest. like genuinely, i went crazy and i could’ve done more. i actually loved this smut tbh! mean kashimo <3333

He’s so annoying. It’s the only thought that’s in your mind as you glare at Kashimo Hajime — who might as well be the bane of your existence. He’s staring at you with the nastiest grin on his face; he had just tried to trip you in the library and gratefully, failed. You had quickly noticed his ploy and dodged his foot before he could swipe it underneath yours. “Are you fucking serious?” You snarl to him, plump, glossy lips pulling into a scowl. You two went to the same high school, and now — the same university. You wished that your dislike for each other would’ve dissipated when you two became adults; however, it didn’t.

To you, Kashimo is still as annoying and disgustingly cocky as ever. It’s only gotten worse since high school. He’s taller now — at around 6’4? 6’5? — compared to his teenage height of 6’1. Bulkier too. He still sports the same hairstyle, however; spiky shaggy cyan locks around his shoulders, with two small buns atop his head. His eyes are still that electric color that reminds you of fucking Sprite. As you glare at him, his face stretches into a grin. You curse the way your stomach tightens with attraction. Sure, you despised him — but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me,” he croons, head tilted, arms outstretched into a slight shrug, “I was… stretchin’ my leg, you know?” You tilt your head, pushing your box-braids off of your shoulder as you give him the nastiest stare in your arsenal. “Stretching… your leg. Shut the fuck up, Kashimo. My God.” Your voice is coated in both exasperated and irritation as you snap out, “We aren’t fucking sixteen anymore. Get a grip.” And as you pass him, you grumble out, “Stupid fucking bitch.”

Unfortunately, he hears you. “I beg your fucking pardon?” He questions, gripping your shoulder and spinning you around with little effort. He stares down at you, one perfectly chiseled eyebrow arched. “I’m a what?” Something pools in your stomach as he stares down at you. Your eye-view is with his chest and you have to tilt your head up to properly look at him. Your eyes trail over his face. He looks mad. For once, he drops that cocky ass facade. You made him drop it. A smirk spreads across your face. It’s your turn. “I said, you’re a stupid fucking bitch, Kashimo. I think you heard me the first time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, unfortunately, I did hear you the first time,” Kashimo lets out a soft laugh as he runs a hand through his locks, eyeing you. It wasn’t his usual demeaning look, however. It was… closer to how you were looking at him. He gives you a small smirk and drops a heavy hand on your head, patting you. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay princess?” And he walks off, without another word, leaving your heart stuttering and mind confused.

It’s later that night when you’re in your dorm room, doing some studying. You’re in a flimsy tank-top and some small shorts that ride up the curve of your ass. Your textbook cracked open as you lay on your stomach, swinging your feet in the air, when someone knocks on the door. Your brows furrow as you question who could even be knocking at this time; it’s 12:13 am. However, you shuffle to your door and unlock it.

Kashimo is standing at the door, in nothing but gray sweatpants and a form fitting t-shirt. He tilts his head at you, looking you up and down. You frown; “What do you want, Kashim—” You’re interrupted by him grabbing your hips and pulling you into him, pressing his lips to yours. You’re shocked to say the least, gasping for air against his lips. Your smaller hands clutch his chest as you break away for a moment. “Kashimo,” you gasp out, staring at him with confusion, “What’re you—?”

“Shut up,” he huffed, picking you up and pulling your legs around his waist. He’s so fucking strong, you’re honestly concerned. “This what you wanted, right? Right, baby?” He was quick to move your textbook to the side, pressing you into the blankets. His hands are squeezing your tits, and your back is arching, and you don’t even realize it, but you’re mewling out, “Yes, yes, yes,” and you know you’ve lost.

“How long have you wanted me, hm?” He asks, as his hands grip the hem of your tanktop, beginning to pull it off of you — you’re all too eager, lifting your arms up, breathing heavy. As he asks you that question, you have to think back in your past. The fleeting glances, the heat that coursed through you whenever he merely touched your skin. “High school,” you murmur, clearly embarrassed as you look away from him. The reality of the situation closes on you; you’re in nothing but your bra and shorts in front of Kashimo, who you hate. (Don’t really hate, it’s obvious now.) And also kissed.

This was splendid.

Your conflicted thoughts are interrupted by Kashimo himself, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck and pulling you forward. “Yeah, I know. You just weren’t gettin’ the fucking hint — baby’s a bit dumb.” His voice is condescending, but drips into your ears like honey. He’s pressing his lips against yours again, pulling you into his lap. You can feel the hardness of his length against your cunt, making you let out a whimper into his mouth. The kiss is messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, lapping at yours. He pulls away slightly to nip at your bottom lip, holding your hips down firmly against his body. As the two of you kiss sloppily, you grind your hips down onto him, and he lets out a soft moan. “Fuckin’ slut,” comes his rasped voice, “Pressin’ this pussy against me. Can feel how wet you are through the shorts.” You didn’t realize how wet you were until he said something. Now that you’re noticing it, you can feel your slick, trickling down your cunt, pooling in your panties.

His fingers hook through your shorts and he’s multitasking; pulling them down, down, down while laying you flat on your back against your pillows. His face pressing into your neck, lathering kisses against your neck and throat. His teeth dig into your skin, as Kashimo sucks a hickey onto your skin while his fingers dig into your thigh. His fingers creep little by little to your pussy. Quite frankly, you’re a hypersensitive mess, nerves completely on edge. All at once, everything was moving too fast and too slow for you. “K-Kashimo, are you sure—?” The question leaves your throat, but he’s quick to shush you with his fingers gliding through your cunt. Your legs spread immediately as you whine.

“Shut up, Y/N,” he hisses, index finger circling your engorged clit, “I’ve been waiting for this, and your fuckin’ mouth isn’t gonna ruin it for me.” So, you listen and you watch as he rips your panties, the fabric still clinging to your skin. He peels it off, leaving you in your bra and him fully clothed.

“Shut up, Kashimo,” you hiss, your legs scrunching as he runs his fingers up and down your pussy. “And just fucking touch me.” He gives you a glare, cyan eyes flickering with irritation. “You wanna be touched so bad? Fuck, Y/N, you’re just a nasty whore, aren’t you?” Kashimo grips your thigh and lifts up one of your legs, sliding two of his thick fingers into your soaking cunt. He gave you no time to adjust to the stretch and immediately began to thrust and curl his fingers against your gummy walls. You let out a soft moan, hands gripping the bed intensely as he pumps his fingers into you with no regard for your sensitivity, fingers leisurely, yet quick.

“O-Oh, fuck, w-wait—“ You stumble out, but Kashimo wraps his free hand around your throat, thumb coming up to touch between your lips. You take it without protest, sucking on it and sliding your tongue against it as if it was a dick. “Just a nasty thing,” he utters, eyes heavy with lust as the wet squelches of your pussy fill the room. The rough pads of his fingers are curling just right against that good, spongy spot in your cunt, that makes you whine around his thumb and roll your eyes back.

“So there it is…” He grins, and suddenly his speed increases, making sure his fingers press against that spot every single time. And it’s disgusting the way your back arches and your legs thrash a little, his thumb sliding out of your mouth as your pretty, high-pitched moans fill the room. “Kashi, Kashi, oh shit, ‘m close,” you whimper, gripping his arm as you let out pants and desperate noises.

“Close?” He muses, an eyebrow raising. “Fuckin’ slut, creaming all over my fingers like this. Thought you hated me, hm? You just hated the fact that you couldn’t fuck me, didn’t you?”

Your pride was injured. You didn’t answer, avoiding the question — desperately focusing on your impending orgasm and the way your stomach tightened. You were right there, right fucking there… And his fingers stilled.

You let out an anguished whine as he pulled his fingers out of you. Tears filled your eyes at the loss of your orgasm. “Kashimo, why—?” You choked out, throwing your head back, trying to hold in your tears.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Kashimo snapped at you, before wrapping his lips around his soaked fingers. He released them with a soft pop before reaching his hands up to undo his buns. His hair trickles down the sides of his face like a waterfall. You’d admire him, if not for your ruined state.

He gets on top of you, lifting your back to undo your bra, tossing it somewhere. “I’m gonna ask you one more time, do you fuckin’ understand me? Don’t answer? Don’t cum.” You knew he was mean, but you didn’t know he was this mean. You let out a pathetic whine, disappointed in yourself for succumbing so easily, but you needed it.

You needed him.

So you nod, and Kashimo’s lips curl up as he snaps, “I need to hear a yes.” You let out a weak whine of ‘yes’ and he simpers out “That’s a good whore.” You feel yourself get leagues wetter. He pulls off his t-shirt, and you think you’re salivating when you see his pale abs, perfectly sculpted. He has a body gifted by the gods, a divinely sculpted v-line and a happy trail that reflects his hair.

He grabs your legs, yanking you so that your entire lower half is in his lap as his fingers slide back into your cunt. He’s slow at first, languid, before rapidly snapping into a ruthless pace, his fingers curling inside of you. You’re a mess, gripping the sheets and moaning, your slick soaking his gray sweats. All the while, Kashimo is talking you through it.

“Messy ass pussy,” he hissed out, his other hand pressing a slap to your clit, “Look at the way this hole is taking my fingers. You’re just so eager, aren’t you? Now answer my fuckin’ question, baby. All that hostility was because I wasn’t fuckin’ you, right? Angel jus’ needed that attitude fucked out, didn’t you, Y/N?”

And you’re agreeing, grasping at the sheets as you pant out, “Y-Yes—! Yes, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry— Fuck, right there, please, please, pleeeease… So close, Kashi, s’close.” He smirks at your state, purposely curling his fingers against your g-spot and pressing against it. You almost cum right there.

“So desperate. Just pathetic, Y/N. But I can forgive you.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, as if his long fingers aren’t ruining you right now. “Go ahead. Cum.” And as soon as you get permission, you’re letting go — creaming around his fingers as you squeal and tremble, stars dancing in your vision.

And to Kashimo, you look all too beautiful. He has to confess; he had never really hated you like you thought. He was just a dickhead. He was also a sucker for pretty girls like you, he was just bad at showing it. And when you looked like this, mouth open, eyes teary, braids splayed across your bed — God, he’s never wanted you more.

And it’s so visible in the way he’s yanking his sweats and his boxers down, revealing his perfect dick. Even in your orgasm induced haze, you’re sure you’ve never seen a more perfect dick. It has a delicious curve upwards, pale, like he is, but his tip is pink and weepy, precum gliding down the head. He’s neatly shaven, and his balls are heavy. He’s long, too long, tip just shy of his belly button. His girth is about three of your fingers. How are you supposed to take all of that?

You don’t know, nor do you care right now, not when he’s slapping his tip against your clit, making you whimper and spread your legs for him even further. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he goes to cup your tits, nimble fingers pulling at your nipples. “Hajime,” you croon, and the usage of him so off guard that his cheeks turn pink. “Pleeease, Hajime… Need you s’bad, put it in..”

The way you were whining drove him crazy; he couldn’t ever deny you, and he knew it. “Someone’s needy,” he whispered, his voice husky. He was just about as needy as you, and it was evident as his dick throbbed in his hand as he rubbed it up and down your slit before prodding at your entrance.

You let out a gasp at the stretch as he slowly pushed his dick into you, your hands immediately clutching at him, gripping anywhere you could hold. He was stretching you, so much so that tears were budding in your eyes. Your pussy gripped and clenched around him as he slowly filled you up; by the time he was done, you were arching your back off the bed, cries escaping your throat. His tip was pressed against your cervix, making slight pain course through you with every movement, even the slightest ones.

He’s gripping your thighs as he hisses, eyebrows furrowing at the way you’re wrapping around him. “Fuck, Y/N, there’s no way your pussy should be this tight around me…” And you’re nothing but a mess, whimpering as he tries to adjust inside of you, while giving you the time to get used to him.

“I’m moving now,” he said, pulling his hips back so that his tip was the only thing left in you. He slammed his hips forwards and you let out a squeal, your legs scrunching as he began to thrust into you, setting a rough and fast tempo immediately. You were damn near catatonic in your pleasured stupor, his tip nudging your cervix with every thrust. Your mouth hung open as the moans caught in your throat, the euphoria you were experiencing causing them to come out slow and gasped.

“I know, sweet whore, I know,” Kashimo murmured, slotting his lips to yours in a kiss as he grabbed your legs, bringing them near your chest, folding you in half. Every time he pulled out of you, his dick was coated in your messy juices, the sound of him thrusting into you echoing across the room. His hands found your throat, squeezing slightly while the two of you kiss, his hips still rolling into your pussy, which attempted to suck him back in every time he pulled out.

You let out shrill moans into his mouth as he pounded into you, the vein on his dick rubbing against your g-spot, making your toes curl. “R-Right there—!” You whine, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, Hajime—!” Kashimo chuckled against your lips, hiking your legs up higher.

“Needy girl,” he titters, “So drunk on my dick. You’re close soon, aren’t you, angel? Yeah, I can tell with the way this slutty pussy is clenching ‘round me.” He slaps your clit with his fingers, making you jerk, ecstasy coursing through you.

“Yes,” you whimpered, your stomach tightening as your pleasure nearly reached its peak. “Gonna cum—“

“Don’t cum yet,” Kashimo hissed, looking down at you. “I was gracious earlier when I let you cum on my fingers. But you’re gonna pay for those years of that bratty ass attitude.”

“But—“ You started, but you were interrupted by a particularly rough thrust that had you moaning, legs trembling. He’s trapped you down with his body, one hand around your throat and the other flicking your clit. “But nothing,” Kashimo snapped, hand tightening around your throat, “Fucking take it, do you understand me? And if you cum, it’ll be the last time you do so tonight.”

You let out a pitiful sob, tears filling your pretty eyes as you nod helplessly. Kashimo wishes he could be soft with you; wishes he could coo and kiss your tears, but no — this is what you wanted. You both knew it. So he pressed your legs further against your body as he slams his hips into you over and over like a man mad. All the while, your tears are spilling over as you let out sobbed moans. He thinks his dick gets harder inside of you while watching this show, as you cry out his name and begs to cum.

He should be generous, he should give you grace, but no. No, instead he pummels into you, his hand between your legs moving to press down on your stomach. “Y’feel me, angel? I’m so deep inside of you..” You wail pathetically, black spots dancing on the edge of your vision and your pleasure becoming tinged with pain. He only smirks down at you, before tapping your chin. “Say ahhh….”

You obey, lolling your tongue out, and he spits directly down into your mouth. You should’ve been repulsed, disgusted. But you weren’t. You swallow without even questioning or protesting.

“Good whore,” he praises, and you feel yourself ascend a little. Maybe your good behavior will convince him to let you orgasm.

“P-Please—“ You sob, as your nails dig into his skin, and you suck in ragged gasps of air, “Let me cum… ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, won’t be mean anymore, p-please let me cum..!” His tip nudges your cervix again and you dig into his skin so hard, he begins to bleed. You’re trying your best, you really are, but it’s becoming a struggle. Your pussy is throbbing, your stomach squeezing as you tremble all over.

Kashimo hums as he looks down at you. He just can’t deny you when you look like this. Edges sweated out, eyes filled with tears that spill down your perfect cheeks, all depraved and hungry for him. “Hm… Alright. Make a mess all over my dick, won’t you?”

You’ve never been more relieved to hear such words. You let go, pushed off the edge as your cream coats his length. Your back arches off the bed as you gasp, eyes rolled back. Your mind is a haze and you’re barely there, hanging on by a thread. You collapse onto the bed as Kashimo’s thrusts slow by a margin and he moves back to let your legs drop.

But he’s not finished with you, at all.

“Turn over, Y/N,” he commands you, and when you don’t respond, he grabs you and manhandles you onto your hands and knees. He pressed down on your back, forcing you to dip until your stomach is pressed against the bed nearly, but your ass is perfectly arched for him.

“W-Wait, ‘m sensitive—!” You gasp, as he thrusts into you with reckless abandon, hands gripping your hips. You squeal out a “Haji! Hajime, no more…! Too big—!” But he isn’t listening to you. He’s intent on ruining you to the fullest, and two measly orgasms can’t do that. His hand fists your braids as he slams his hips snugly against your ass, the clapping sound filling his ears with pride. He watches the jiggle of your plump ass as his dick splits you open.

You’re a drooling mess, head pressed into the blankets, muffling your incessant noises. He yanks your head up, snapping out, “None of that shit. Let me hear those slutty moans.” His lip is pulled between his teeth as he lets out a groan. Fuck, he’s getting close. But he wants to make you cum one more time before he does. He releases your hair and watches as you drop like a ragdoll, hands barely fisting the sheets. You squirm a little when he slams against your g-spot, and try your best to crawl away, but you don’t get far. He grips you by your hair and slams you back onto his dick, making you cry out. He’s grabbing you, scooping you up while sitting at the edge of your bed. You’re facing him and he can clearly view your face now.

Your eyes are glassy, mouth open in a small o. He grins. Look at you, reduced to nothing. He’s grabbing your legs while you’re in his lap, and with no care in the world, he begins to drop you down on his dick. You’re letting out noises mixed with a scream and a moan, arms around his back, acrylics dragging at his skin.

“One more, princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, even though you’re unsure how many times he’s pulled out of you. Three, right? You can’t remember; your head is foggy and the only thing you can focus on is the way his tip is pressing against your cervix, the way his big hands are cupping your ass as he drops you down on his dick.

And suddenly you’re gushing, creaming all around him, so hard and so forceful that it makes you collapse against his chest. But he *still isn’t done.* He’s still thrusting into you, his hips stuttering and becoming reckless. “Gonna fill you up, ‘kay?” He groans and you nod, nod, nod, babbling out, “C-Cum in me, please… Want your cum s’bad, wanna be swell with your cum—“

He’s hissing out moans as he slams into your cunt, “Yeah angel, gonna give you a fuckin’ baby with the way I’m gonna stuff you full of my cum—“ He lets out a choked out groan as he grips your hips, holding you down on his dick as he shoots thick, warm ropes of cum inside of you.

You collapse against him and his arms wrap around you, caressing your skin and pressing kisses to your forehead. “Good girl. So good f’me, Y/N..” Your eyes are closing, exhaustion creeping over you, when you hear him say, “Love you.. Gonna take care of you, princess.”

You fall asleep with a smile on your face.