#He wears it around his thumb as a reminder to not fall in love again

[pockspocket]

Guys don't drink late at night with your therapist... you just might fall in love with him...

@jaythenugget 's mk oc, Shim, is on the left!

[heeliopheelia]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 (s. jake x reader)

tw: somnophilia, fem! reader, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names,

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Laying on his back, Jake stares at the ceiling as another drop of cold sweat dribbles down the back of his neck. The ticking of the clock and your slow breaths are the only thing he can hear in the quiet bedroom, as he should be at three in the morning after all. 

But he finds it really hard to go back to a peaceful slumber when just two minutes ago you were straddling his dick and he was just so close to cumming. And all of those sweet moans of yours, the slight shaking of your thighs and the mesmerizing bounce of your tits – all of it, just to turn out to be a dream. 

With a heavy sigh, he turns to his side and looks at your sleeping self, so blissfully unaware of the armageddon that you’ve caused in his brain. His eyes skim over your bare back, rising and falling with deep breaths, and suddenly he’s reminded of how just seconds ago he was thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting up into you so well-

Shutting his eyes tightly, Jake swallows hard and stays like this for a minute or two to calm himself. When another, tired sigh pushes past his lips, he moves closer to you and drapes his arm over your waist, hoping that cuddling up to you will make him fall asleep faster, so that he can wake up in the morning and fuck you properly sooner. 

Another issue he’s being faced with is that the night is so cold, and you’re just so warm and inviting, laying so prettily right next to him. The fairylights that you’ve left turned on for the night cast a warm light on you, giving him a perfect view on the fading hickeys he left on your shoulder blades mere hours ago, and now really, how is he supposed to stop himself. 

The twitch of his hard cock becomes more unbearable with every second and then he realizes – he just loves you too much to let you sleep in peace. He can’t allow for your unforced beauty to go to waste, after all. 

“My pretty girl,” he whispers, barely audible as his voice is still heavily laced with sleep. 

The shorts he’s sleeping in are already drenched and so uncomfortable to wear, so he carefully slips them down to discard them on the floor, right next to where all of your clothes from last night are resting as well.

He lets his impatient hands wander to admire your curves, and a low grunt rips out of his throat as his erection grazes against your thighs by accident. 

He’s an asshole – he knows it. But not that big of an asshole to enjoy all of this without you. So, instead, he settles on rubbing his hard cock against your perked ass, biting his lip with the first touch of your plush skin. 

“Need you s’ bad,” he mutters, leaning forward to pepper your neck with small, sloppy kisses. 

One of his hands drifts to your chest. Whatever shame he might or might not have been fighting against moments ago, it all goes away when the glimpse of your quiet moan sounds through the room the second his hand touches the soft swell of your breast. 

Jake’s lips twitch up with a smile, and now without really holding back, he rolls his hips over your ass, letting his fingers rub and gently pinch around your hardening nipple. His other hand slips down to your pussy and a louder whine comes out of your throat when his thumb finds your clit.

“Knew you’re gonna like it,” he chuckles raspily into your neck. 

His cock finds a perfect place to slot against you, thrusts growing more desperate and less cautious as the release he’s been craving for so long has finally started building up again. 

He hugs you close to his chest, panting against your skin as he humps you like a pillow. Warm hand groping your tits, his tongue lays flat and licks up your neck, finishing at your jaw and nibbling underneath the bone. 

You begin to squirm underneath his touch just as you begin to get wetter, and still in your sleep, you push your ass back into his pelvis. He feels so dirty, but too good to stop too, thriving off the idea that he can make you come even in your sleep. Jake loves that you need him just as much as he needs you.

Rocking his hips into you, your boyfriend is careful not to move you around too much, after all waking you up would make him feel guiltier than he already is. His precum soon smears all over your ass, his big hand pressing harder onto your clit in desperation to make you wetter. 

And when he can finally hear the longed for filthy squelching underneath his fingertips, he breathes out and kisses your shoulder. 

“Just the tip, baby. I promise.” His hand hastily reaches down and lines his cock against your entrance. Slowly, he pushes his mushroom head inside, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Can’t resist you.”

Your tight hole jerks out a louder whine out of him, not expecting you to suck him in so well, and if not for his self control he would’ve blown his load inside you right then and there. But he decides to enjoy you, to edge himself for a little longer, sinking his red tip in between your walls once by once. 

Just the tip, he has to remind himself after a particularly needy moan of yours.

His fingers skim over your perked nipple again, then cup your breast in his hand and squeeze it gently as he can feel himself getting closer to release. But then you tense in his arms and warm release streams down your thighs suddenly, coating Jake’s fingers. You whimper, on the verge of waking up, and he smiles slyly with satisfaction that he actually made you come in your sleep.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs breathlessly. His eyes are focused on your perfect ass, hands soon following their lead and groping at your soft flesh. 

And then another pleased sigh leaves your lips and he just can’t help himself any longer, so he pulls out of you quickly with a nasty smack and taps his dripping cock over your ass, thick streams of his cum glazing your skin not even a blink later. His mouth falls open as his chest heaves so rapidly in comparison to yours. 

He can’t get himself to do much else than to fall back into the pillows and wrap his arms around you, pulling you as closely to him as it’s humanly possible. 

“Love you, love you so much,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “Promise I’ll reward you in the mornin’.”

Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, he can feel his eyes starting to droop after the restless night. 

taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @enhabooks @antoinettenotfound

a/n: i used to love this the first time i wrote this but now it's just... meh... idek if this is worth putting on my masterlist lmfao

[vampiredaisiesss]

touch me — d.w. x reader

synopsis - you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. the lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter. you find him all the more beautiful like this.

trigger warning - older dean winchester (early 40s) with younger reader (early 20s)

He thinks about time, about how it marks you, about how each silver strand falling to the floor is another reminder of all the years between the two of you.

The harsh glare of the bathroom light is unforgiving, casting every line on his face into sharp focus. Dean watches your reflection in the mirror. The gentle snip-snip echoes off the tile walls as you work the scissor over his hair, your lip caught between your teeth.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror from your shower, making the edges of your reflection soft, dream-like. Your tank top's damp where his hair falls against it, and there's something so domestic about this moment it makes his chest ache.

You hum "Hey Jude" while you work, because of course you know that's what Mary sang when she cut his hair. Of course you know that's what he sometimes hummed in his sleep whenever he'd have a nightmare.

"You're thinking too loud, again," you murmur, running your fingers through the short hairs at his nape.

"I've got shirts older than you," he says finally, the words tasting bitter on tongue.

You laugh out loud, and it sounds like every good thing he probably doesn't deserve. "And they're all flannel, and they all smell like gunpowder and cheap liquor that you probably spilled on them two decades ago, but never got dry-cleaned, and I love them." Your smile turns soft at the edges. "Just like I love the man wearing them."

"Kid—" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Don't 'kid' me, Dean Winchester. Not when you're balls deep inside me every night." You pause for just enough time to fix him a determined stare, and he offers you a small smile.

"You think I don't know who I'm choosing? You think I haven't counted every scar, every gray hair, every year you spent saving the world before I was old enough to know it needed saving?"

The scissor is forgotten on the countertop as you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. Your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. The lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter.

You find him all the more beautiful like this.

Dean's throat tightens. You're stripping him bare with your touch. "Exactly. You could have anyone. Someone who—"

He swallows hard, but he's smiling now. His chest feels heavier with something else. "When you say it like that, sounds like I should be in a museum, not your bed."

"Someone who what? Someone who hasn't survived forty years in hell? Someone who doesn't wake up reaching for a weapon? Someone who doesn't understand why I keep rock salt by the bed and devil's traps under the rugs?" You shake her head. "I don't want easy, Dean. I want you."

"There," you say finally, brushing loose hair from his neck. Your lips find that sensitive spot behind his ear, and he can feel you smile against his skin.

"Please," You chuckle. Your hands slide back into his hair, resuming cutting. "Museums are for looking, not touching. "And I'm very..." snip "...very..." snip "...fond of touching you."

"Touch me," he says, and it comes out like a prayer he never learned properly – rough and wanting and holy all at once. It curls around your heart in the shape of Dean's hand.

He reaches up, catches your hand before you can move away.

You touch him like you're reading braille, like every freckle on his body has a story to tell. Your lips trace constellations across the map of blue veins over his body. And when you finally put your lips on the scar along the side of his hip — the first ever souvenir he collected on his skin — you feel the smallest tremor in his breath. It’s so faint, but unmistakable, and for a moment, you could almost swear you made Dean Winchester mewl.

And you do.

[suguann]

Possessive!Geto who pretends he doesn't care when he overhears that a new high-paying customer comes to the club every Friday to watch you specifically perform on stage, knowing he can’t really do anything about it unless a patron breaks the rules printed on a neon sign above the bar—No touching the dancers unless you're tipping—even if he’s the one in charge.

He’ll smile and nod, shaking hands with big spenders with sleazy smiles in the VIP lounge while his eyes find you from the other side of the room as you climb into another man’s lap.

He can’t stop his jaw from clenching when that same customer tips a month’s worth of rent every week or asks about private shows even though you don't do them. How he notices you smiling prettily for this customer, eyelashes fluttering with stars in your eyes to match the glitter on your cheeks before you walk off stage toward the dressing rooms. 

Sometimes you play the part of making a lonely man feel wanted too well. 

Possessive!Geto whose hand tightens around his glass tumbler, watching the man who’s been coming to see you (now twice a week) slip a thick white card into the top of your stockings. The fact that he touched your thigh with his dirty hands irks Geto the most.

In times like this, he wishes he had never come up with the rule about keeping your relationship a secret—so nobody thinks I’m picking favorites—because regret is a thick pill to swallow.

When you walk up to his office later, Geto wastes no time by dragging you down onto his lap, trailing his nose down the slope of your neck where your soft-smelling perfume is strongest and sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat for everyone to see. 

You’re still wearing those cross-stitch stockings—the feel of them under his hands making him halfway hard—and he yanks the bodice of your dress down just underneath the swell of your breasts to get rid of the thought of another man touching you.

“B-but, Suguru, we’re at work—”

“Let me enjoy these pretty tits, huh?” he growls before sucking a nipple into his greedy mouth.

You whine his name, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

The blinds to his floor-to-ceiling windows are open, but it's tinted glass so nobody can tell what happens behind locked doors. Except, when he glances toward the busy club below, he wishes everyone in the building could witness what it looks like for you to fall apart under his hands—a personal show you put on just for him.

Only him. His fingers hook inside you to feel you tight and hot around him as a reminder.

Possessive!Geto who has enough one day after that customer asks for another private session—this time, he goes to Geto directly.

It’s a busy night, and every dancer works the floor. Well, almost. 

You’re kneeling between his spread legs, spit dribbling down your chin, whimpering while trying to open your throat for him.

He brushes your hair away from your face, watching your mouth messily slurp around his cock under his desk—his jaw is slack, and his other hand clenches on the armrest of his chair. “So good—fuck, baby—so fucking pretty,” he mutters, his top teeth catching his bottom lip.

His head tilts back when you eagerly fill your mouth with him again and again until he feels you choke, making his thighs flex under your hands. Geto’s thumb smooths an arc across your cheek.

“There you go,” he huffs. “I love that little mouth—”

There’s a knock on his door, and he feels you panic, moving to pull off his cock. But the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Your nails bite into his skin, tears prickling your lashline as small distressed mewls escape your lips.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he hisses. “Not unless I say so.”

Another knock echoes in his office.

“Come in.”

The customer with the too-shiny tie and a penchant for slipping thousands into your g-string opens the door with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye, sauntering into the room like he owns the place. “How about that deal—”

Whatever he’s about to ask is lost on Geto because his ears are ringing when he feels you swallow around him, and his balls draw up tight against his body, and—

Possessive!Geto who grunts when you moan around his cock as he cums down your throat, his lips twitching at the look of shock on the customer’s face.

“I’ve heard your deal,” he says eventually, glancing down at your glazed eyes and wiping away what little mess escaped your mouth with his thumb. “But she’s not yours to take.”

[saltofmercury]

Sentimental

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Author's note: Writing feels so good!!! I'm so happy to be writing again :)

Summary: Jason holds onto things that make him emotional. That doesn’t make him emotional.

*

Jason Todd would never call himself emotional.

He prefers the term sentimental. Sentimental is what surrounds the items in his trinket box. There’s not many items inside —some personal information mostly. A death certificate, a watch, and more recently items from you. A scrunchie, a broken keychain, and notes.

He had noticed the bracelets, gold and silver trinkets decorating your arm, then something not as shiny, the weird black ribbon scrunchie. The scrunchie you never gave it to him.

He watched as you pushed your hair back, your hands guiding the elastic weaving through your hair, sitting on top of your head.

What was left was the red indent on your wrist. You seemed to pay no attention to it, but he did not like the idea of something leaving a mark on you. Red and indented. The angry mark kept being shown, often closed off by your other bracelets.

“Does this hurt?” He asked you later at night wondering how it hadn’t gone down since the afternoon. 

“No, I get these all the time.” You say, carefully gauging his reaction.

“But I don’t like the impression it leaves you with.” He scowled, rubbing his thumb along the indent. 

Impressed by the mark it did leave—He took the scrunchie the next day, wearing it for a total of five hours. He had come back to the apartment you two shared, showing you the indent of his own. Now he keeps your scrunchie on his arm, willing to hold it for you. You never really take it back though, you just let him hold onto it. Seeing how he fidgets and snaps it on his own. He doesn’t give it back either.

Sentimental over the keychain you bought him for the key to your apartment. A big step in your relationship, where he had been earning your trust, giving you space, waiting for you to take the next step — you just wanted some peace of mind from him entering through the balcony window.

It had been a small joke between you guys about how you wish you had a pocket sized “him” so you could tell him at any moment anything that happened during your work day.

It prompted the idea to make him into a Lego.

You carefully selected the top, bottom, and head, and even added a red cap on top as an inside joke for his mask.

Jason could hardly respond. It leaves him tongue tied at the little figurine placed in his hand. Your smile beaming at him, then, expressionless when he doesn’t say anything. 

“You don’t like it?” You pout, hoping you didn’t cause offense.

He stares back at you intensely, suddenly breathless.

“I love it.”

He does wish he were more careful with it. After falling from a two story building, he had landed on it causing the little figurine to crack into multiple pieces. He would have taken a dislocated shoulder over the broken keychain.

“You fell on it?” you ask, seeing it cracked in multiple pieces in your hands.

“The guy snuck up on me and kicked me off the ledge.”

“And you fell … on it? Didn’t that hurt?” You peer up from your hands concerned he’s not fused with any other Lego pieces on his leg.

He tries to glue it back together, seeing the irony in himself in the Lego pieces. It frustrates him, he places it in a bag and puts it away in the box. He just starts to keep the key around his neck. The next day he gets surprised by the different figurine.

“Don’t land on this one ok?” You smile up at him.

Sentimental over every note you’ve ever written him— which causes his small box to overflow with colors of

“I’ll be back with dinner”

“went to the market” 

“Ice cream in the freezer!”

And all the “I love you’s see you later”

Scribbled in your writing on blue, white, pink, and yellow scraps of paper, post-its, and notepads. 

What seemed like a small note was a reminder to him that someone does come back for him. 

Someone is there for him.

So no, Jason Todd isn’t emotional. He’s just sentimental.

[sleepingelvhen]

Imagine Sunday basking in the attention you give him. He may not be so showy, but if you are, he will accept each touch with a little cat-like smile, his eyes lidded as he watches you. Almost like he's waiting for you to do something you're not supposed to. Like...say...touching his wings, for example.

And, of course, you'd touch those little wings. So small and fluffy like his hair, tucked snug behind his ears, occasionally fluttering from the way the breeze feels against them. And just as you would brush one thumb against them, your wrist would be in his hand, and he'd be looking down at you as if he were about to scold you.

You swore you'd never seen such darkness in his gaze. He'd probably chide you for even trying, kissing your wrist as his face relaxed. But those shadows were still there.

Just rile him up a little and see how that goes. Stroke his wings and watch as he presses you against a wall and growls in your ear. Watch that calm mask he wears fall right off, and how quickly your body becomes his playground.

Imagine how slow he'd be with you. Gentle kisses down the column of your throat, fingers gentle and yet demanding as they hold you still or move you around to his desire. He'd take his time, and no amount of whining or begging will change that. You tried to take control, tried to rile him up, and he was here to show you how wrong you were.

Sunday was always in control.

Now, if you want to really rile him up, really get under his skin, then getting him jealous would be the best way to do that. Even mentioning being alone with another or being flirted with will get him a little irritated. But insinuating more?

You'll be on your hands and knees, bruises decorating every inch of skin. He'd remind you who you belong to, and damn it will everyone else in Penacony know by the end of the night.

You were his and no one else's.

Don't expect him to let you out of his sight for a while. Now you're using his shampoo and conditioner, now you're required to wear his gifts everywhere. And now, any man who approaches you suddenly finds themselves unable to dream for a while. How strange.

This won't last forever. You'll have to face his punishment for manipulating him like that, and he will make you promise to never do it again lest the punishments get worse over time.

Imagine how Sunday is in bed aside from all that. He's normally gentle aside from the possessiveness in his touches and tone of voice. Though normally quiet, his moans are soft sighs, and sometimes, if you get to take control, you can get him to whimper.

Pull his hair, kiss his throat, tease him, and whisper words of pure affection and praise, and he's putty in your hand. Sunday lives for praise, and he gives it back ten-fold.

He loves seeing you on top, his hands on your hips, guiding you and watching you with a lazy smile on his face. The perfect position to touch every part of your body and watch your face as you get closer and closer.

If you want him to be rougher, all you have to do is ask. Or grab his wings as if they're handlebars. That's how you get him to growl, to moan obscenities into your ear, and fuck you desperately. Quick thrusts, rough as he pushes you into the bed, telling you how you belong to him. Reminding you of your position.

Sunday is the master of aftercare. No matter how stressed or tired he is, you will be cared for and cleaned. He will draw a bath, clean you, and brush your hair. Honestly, it becomes a bit of a spa day.

He becomes super affectionate and lovey-dovey afterward. Holding you close, breathing in your scent, whispering his love for you, all while caressing your body with gentle massages.

It's easy to fall asleep in his arms, then, and he will kiss you as you do.

[thatsdemko]

drought - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: husband!charles leclerc x wife!fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + fingering (f receiving) + minor grammatical errors!

a/n: everyone say thank you to Charles leclerc’s recent photo dump

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

the simulator, the meetings, the practices, the races. it’s never ending exhaustion for Charles as he struggles grappling the seasons horrid start.

he’s thankful to have someone to turn to when times get rough. his lovely wife, you. through thick and thin is what you promised each other, and right now? this was the thin. this was what was starting to tear you both further apart.

Charles spent all his time home at the simulator, or any chance he could, at the factory. you’ve spent dozens of lonely, boring, nights in your shade king size bed.

the picture frame above the headboard is no longer crooked. you’d have time to fix it into place because the reason it fell was the endless nights of sex. the headboard would bang into the wall and eventually the picture, from your wedding night, would either come falling down, or end up sideways on the hook.

it was a reminder of your once thrilling sex life has come to an end. sex was no longer something you both were actively participating in. it was rather you and a vibrator on those lonely occasions.

“headed out?” you ask, picking your head up from your book in your lap. you’d heard his heavy footsteps. his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth searching the right sneakers to wear.

“just to maman’s salon. been awhile.” he says coming into the living room to sit beside you on the couch.

you nod in agreement having not remembered the last time his beautiful brown hair was trimmed. although, you don’t mind the length, and neither did his fans. you’d encouraged him to listen to them, and at the time he laughed. then you showed him why you liked it so much. the ends being tugged between your fingers, ruffled and yanked during sex, he enjoyed the arousal. now, there was no need for it.

“tell her I say hi.” you say, soft smile forming to your lips.

he catches your eyes for a brief second when he looks up from tying his shoes. he takes the quick second to press a kiss to your cheek, “you should come by. maman would love to see you.”

you’d missed pascale. in fact, you missed his whole family. it’d been months since you’d shared a laugh with Arthur, or even held conversation with Lorenzo and his new girlfriend. while you knew the chances were slim to seeing his siblings, you still joined him in the car. it’d been the first time in weeks being in his pista.

his hand dangerously slips across the center console. his thumb strokes the skin your inner thigh that’s exposed from your biker shorts. he’s happy you’ve tagged along, he can’t remember the last time you’ve spent more than two hours together that wasn’t spent sleeping.

“I noticed you fixed the picture above our bed.” he says turning to look at you for a brief second at the stop light. you figured he hadn’t noticed, it was slight change and he rarely slept at home when he had days off. you’re sure he’s seen the toy under your side of the bed if he truly went looking.

“gives you a new challenge again.” you reply back watching the wheel spin under his hands as he pulls into the parking lot. you were finally free from his grip.

he scoffs, putting the car in park, “it was always too easy. it was never a challenge.”

a smirk forms to your lips. your words catching him before he slips out the car, “well you have a new challenge and it’s much better than you’ve been in the past month.”

—

you’re sitting in the chair beside him watching pascale trim the wet ends of his hair. a few fall in his face or around the top of the cape.

she’s happy to see you. in fact, she’s only talking to you the whole time.

she doesn’t notice how you’ve been squeezing your legs together every so often. your one leg is crossed over the other, he sees you shifting in the chair as you answer his mothers questions. he sees how turned on you’ve become watching him.

it’s funny to him. how it’s the most mundane thing ever and it’s got your pussy throbbing for him. all he’s doing is sitting in the chair allowing his mother to cut the dead ends of his hair.

he can tell whatever you were using to get off was not enough. and it was his own damn fault for choosing the simulator or the factory over pleasuring his wife’s needs.

pascale walks away to answer the phone leaving you two alone, and he swivels the chair in your direction, “I did not know this would get you so horny.”

you feel heat spread across your cheeks. you try to pull the neck of the sweatshirt over your face to hide the embarrassment of being caught.

“when we get home—“

“you think I’ll last getting home?” you cut him off before he can propose his plan. his eyes widen, a smirk toys his lips as he shakes his head seeing his mother come back into the room.

“take the keys to the pista, you’re making this hard for me.” he tosses the keys into your lap, “it’s a private parking lot. you can finish what I started.”

“I’m almost done with him. you‘ll be able to go home in no time.” pascale promises and continues to trim his hair. you watch for another couple of minutes and now she’s finally getting ready to blow dry his wet hair.

you can’t watch any longer. you’ve made up an excuse to head to his car and wait out the final minutes. you’ve turned on the air in the car and sat in the passenger seat awaiting his arrival to take you home.

your leg anxiously bounces as you hear him whistling. he opens the passenger door, takes the knob that adjusts the seat, and pushes it as far back as it goes allowing him to kneel in front of your seat.

“Charles what are you doing?” you ask watching him close the passenger door once he’s in. it’s cramped. his head is just inches close to the top of the car, your legs are nearly into your lap and suddenly it’s warm in the car. the air must’ve kicked off after a period of time running.

“taking care of something.” he leans over your lap, letting the back of the seat go as far down as it can. he moves you closer to the edge of the seat, “lift your hips.” he demands and you do as he asks, allowing him to remove your shorts.

“Charles, we can’t do this in your car—“

“nobody is here.” he points out the very obvious. not another car is in this parking lot, and there’s not a single car that has drove down this street since arriving. you were as safe as you could be under the street lights.

“come on, let me treat you right.” he coos, fingers running up and down your thighs, “I did this to you.” he reaches into your lap, fingers toying with the wet material clung to your pussy, a whine threatening at your tongue.

“can I do that? can I touch my wife?”

you nod, unable to speak any words. you push you hips up again allowing him to remove your panties. you spread your legs as far wide as you can. his index finger stretches out across your folds. it’s like a ghost against your skin, you can feel him but barely. a soft whine escapes your lips, you lean back against the seat.

“good girl,” he whispers, “just relax for me.” he says. his index finger wiggles in your entrance. his name rolls off your tongue ever so quickly, and you feel him add a second finger not even giving you a chance to respond.

your fingers go flying into his freshly cut hair, and yank on the short ends. you curse him for what he’s done, and try to grab anything you can while his fingers pump inside of you. he takes his time, discovers every single bit of you like lost treasure. a place he hasn’t tended to in awhile.

sweet whines and moans escape your lips. it’s adorable how quick you were able to fold under his touch. all it ever really took was a swipe of his finger, tongue, or anything else to get your body to fold. you were his in the matter of seconds.

you feel one of his fingers just brush your clit. your back arches, pussy clenching around his fingers. you’re begging him to do it again, and again, until you come.

he doesn’t stop until he notices your legs are visibly shaking, the car is shaking from your bodies response, and until his fingers are met with cum.

“I can’t.” you breathe out, your body itches to exhale the sweet cum he ever so loves. he’s nodding along, encouraging you to come. you throw your body back against the seat, you feel the body of the car move as you do so. sweet delicious cum finally exits your body and so do his fingers.

“that was fun wasn’t it?” he licks his index and middle finger of your cum before pulling your set up close to where it was, and he’s getting out of the car. you quickly pull your shorts back up and double check your hair.

you look him in the eyes when he slides into the drivers seat. you can see the arousal in his pants, a content smile across his face, “don’t worry, you can take care of me when we get home. I’ve got an idea in my mind.”

[empresskylo]

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎     ‎｡･ﾟﾟ･ simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader‎

craving a warm hug from a big masked military man who will tell you everything's going to be okay? well, this is it. wc. 694

cod masterlist

fuck fuck fuck fuck, you cursed under your breath. you were hoping simon would have already been asleep by the time you got back to his room. you didn’t want him to see you like this—so defeated and broken. 

but no, of course, he wasn’t. he didn’t sleep well without you, so it only made sense that he’d wait up. 

“thought you’d be asleep,” you mumbled as you walked in, not bothering to turn on the light. 

he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “waitin’ f’you.” he gave you a lazy smile, his eyes following your movements about his room. 

you shied away, grabbing one of his hoodies and pulling it on over your head, trying to hide your face. the smell of his clothing relaxed you slightly, but not enough. 

“y’okay?” he asked, his eyes narrowing while his smile faded. 

“course,” you replied, crawling into the small bed and facing away from him. “jus’ tired.”

you heard him hum in the back of his throat in disapproval. the tears were steadily falling now, but as long as he didn’t see you…

simon’s hand settled on your arm and he rolled you over with remarkable ease. his arm extended over you so he was hovering slightly above you and his brows furrowed when he saw your face. you instinctively closed your eyes, embarrassed.

you felt his calloused fingertips stroke your cheek, wiping away the steady stream of hot tears. “what’s wrong, baby?” his voice low, almost like when he was angry, but laced with concern and an air of softness.

your eyes fluttered open, looking at him through the dew drops in your lashes. you were going to speak, to say something along the lines of nothing, and give him a fake laugh. but your lips turned into a frown and a hiccup escaped your throat. you were ardently crying now. 

he was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest, rolling onto his back slightly so you were propped on him. the feeling of him protectively holding you set a bit of your racing heart at ease. 

“jus’...” you began through small cries. “everything.” 

his hand rubbed patterns on your back affectionately. his other hand slid up into your hair, cradling your head under his chin. he hummed softly. “shh,” he cooed. 

your cries continued on, but they softened. simon was absorbing some of the pain—the hopelessness, the anxiety, the defeat—that you were feeling. “everythin’ will be okay,” he told you gently. his voice was rough in your ear as he whispered, his deep baritone not made for speaking quietly. 

“you don’t know that,” you whined, tilting your head up to look at him. 

he gave you a tight-lipped smile. “yeah, I do.” his hand left your hair and he used his thumb to wipe away more tears. “and even if it s’not. we’ll get ya through it. m’here, love. this isn’t all on you.”

you buried your face back against his chest and wrapped your arms around his midsection. he continued to hold you, the soft strokes of his hand on your back never stopping. eventually, he slid his hands up under his sweatshirt you were wearing, his cool hands touching your skin now, and he drew small patterns on your back. it felt nice. calming. 

“m’here,” he promised again. 

you smiled through the wetness in your eyes and against his warm chest. he was here. you weren’t going through any of this alone. simon was here for you. he’d take care of you. 

he held you long into the night, until you finally cried yourself to sleep, never letting you go. his arms tight around you as he slept under you. when you’d wake in the morning, your face was plastered to his slowly rising and falling chest, his arms snug around you, your legs straddling him, both of your bodies flesh against one another. you’d feel a wave of safety in his embrace. you’d know that no matter how bad things got, he’d do anything for you. and he’d steady your racing heart by reminding you he would always be there. 

always.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎

[xiao-come-home]

Making Boothill a new hat and now he's going to wear it everywhere. And if someone dares to insult or damage it? They better say their prayers.

Angry as f Boothill... Oh Lord help us all 🥶

OH HE'S NOT LETTING THIS ONE GO FOR A LONG TIME. It's probably not as bad when someone insults it - although Boothill just might almost break their jaw and throw insults at them (even though it comes out as "just what! Did ya say about my hat, FRECKLE!"), he'll remember that person till they, literally, die.

"Oh, we meet again. The stink that insulted my hat, from my beloved. Hope ya feel peachy (like shit) today."

Boothill truly loves the hat you made him - it's like a mobile piece of your heart he's able to move anywhere, especially if you aren't accompanying him that day! It reminds him of you, your smell, your love for him, and but most importantly—

Poof! Someone shoots a bullet.

It didn't harm Boothill - thank aeons - but his new hat falls on the floor, the now new, uninvited hole carved into it.

...But most importantly, your poured your entire heart into it, and await for him at home.

Boothill freezes for a while, throwing off the shooter, or - how the cyborg decided to call them - the victim; he bends down and picks up the hat, dusting it off carefully, his thumb trailing the outline of the ugly he from the bullet.

"Do you know what have you done?" Boothill's tone is cold like ice; he stands still with his back facing the poor person, his snowy hair floating gently against the wind. The person doesn't seem to answer his question, making him even more agitated.

"I said," Boothill almost growls, spitting out a bullet and turning around, "do ya know what have ya just done?!"

Crimson flashes in his eyes; the bystanders only hear rapid sounds of fired bullets, almost if they had their own mind and hatred to the person they're targeting.

Even though Boothill comes out victorious in this battle (duh!), he plops down on the couch defeated, sighing and clinging the hat to his chest. You kiss and cradle his cheek, feeling him nuzzle into your hand; he closes his eyes in content, but still feeling uneasy inside.

"Some donkey (dick) destroyed my new hat. So I taught them a lesson." He explains calmly and hands you the headpiece. He opens one of his eyes and observes you quietly, awaiting your reaction.

"It's alright - I can fix this for you," you answer gently, giving him a soft smile; your eyes examine the place of the unfortunate bullet that once went through. You can see the wide smile on his face in the corner of your eye, shortly after feeling the familiar, sweet warmth of his lips on your palm.

"But you need to get cleaned up first... There's blood on the entire couch, Boothill!"

[chvoswxtch]

hi my love, my sweetness!! congrats again on 4K you deserve it so much and I love youuu!!

I know the cafe is technically closed but I thought maybe if I flirt a bit with the owner, who’s such an amazing lovely person who writes excellent fics, I thought I might be able to order a drink or two (only if there’s time and of course fine if not<3)

so could I order a macchiato over ice for Frank or Hotch. how would they be/react if they saw you in their clothes? I think both are so territorial and like daddies and if they saw you just in their sweatshirt or jacket or whatnot in a completely innocent situation they’d lose it. Let’s not even get started on at home or bedroom related

love you thank you for sharing your writing with us <333

SWEET BABY D!!!!

oh i've missed you so. thank you so much my sweet. you can order anything you want <3

sjdkshdsjkd do you know how absolutely feral hotch would go if he came home after a shitty week & saw you wearing one of his dress shirts bc i'm going feral just thinking about it so let me paint you a lil picture

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

aaron hotchner likes you in his clothes

let me set the scene for ya. it's been a long week for our bau daddy, dealing with narcissistic psycho killers & keeping all his kids in line (the rest of the bau), & the frustrations are high when he finally steps off the jet. he doesn't even stay back to handle the mountain of paperwork waiting for him, that's how fed up he is

when he finally makes it home, it's well after midnight, & he's so tired he doesn't even wanna take a nice hot shower like he usually does to unwind. he just wants to fall into bed & let the exhaustion take over

but when he passes by the kitchen, he instantly freezes, bc there you are standing by the counter, having a lil midnight snack (eating ice cream straight out of the tub), wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts. and when I say nothing, I mean hotch can tell you are wearing absolutely nothing underneath

his eyes quickly darken with pure lust & his cock is already half hard when he stalks over towards you with determined steps

the spoon is still in your mouth when you notice him, a smile stretching across your lips around it before you lick off the sweet remnants & slip it out of your mouth

"hey, how was the c-"

you don't even get a chance to finish that sentence bc hotch cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck to capture your mouth in a heated kiss & he does not hold anything back as he pushes you up against the counter

his kiss is aggressive & needy, & the muffled moan that escapes you tastes delicious on his tongue. his fingers make quick work of unbuttoning the few buttons you'd had done, but he doesn't push it off your shoulders. oh no, he wants you to keep it on

his hands roam over your newly exposed skin, greedily grabbing at your breasts to squeeze them roughly, his thumb & index fingers toying with your sensitive nipples knowing it'll get you all riled up for him, & the sounds you make let him know it's working

he grabs your hand & guides it to his belt, & without hesitation you follow his silent command, your nimble fingers unbuckling it while he sheds his suit jacket & tie

in a flash he swiftly spins you around & bends you over the counter, bunching the bottom of his shirt up around your hips, & he spreads your legs further apart with his foot

he wastes no time pushing forward, burying his cock deep without warning, his hand quickly covering your mouth to contain your sharp moan. his other hand has a bruising grip on your hip as he leans forward & hisses in your ear

"be quiet."

the sensation of your warm, tight walls completely enveloping his cock makes his brain go blank. he can't focus on anything else other than how good you feel. he immediately begins snapping his hips, fucking you hard & fast while grunting in your ear

with every powerful thrust, the stress & tension built up in his body from this week starts to fade, & the pleasure rapidly builds. even though he's chasing a much needed release, he's not selfish, so he slips his hand between your thighs & begins to strum swift circles over your clit with two of his fingers

he lets out a quiet, wrecked groan in your ear when he feels your pussy start to contract around him, the muffled moans against his palm only heightening his arousal. as badly as he wants to hear you fall apart, he doesn't wanna wake up jack

when he feels your body seize up as you come, hotch squeezes his eyes shut & lets out a strangled groan, gripping your waist tightly with both hands as his hips start to stutter

"fuck fuck fuck."

he comes hard, spilling deep within your snug walls, emptying himself completely. the way your cunt continues to contract around his cock milks him of every drop he has to offer, & it makes him let out a shuddering breath

placing both of his palms down on the counter to steady himself, he buries his face into your hair, panting heavily. if he wasn't exhausted before, he sure as hell is now, but he's definitely more calm. a breathless laugh leaves your lips before you speak

"well, hello to you too."

letting out a breathless chuckle of his own, hotch smiles & wraps one of his arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your neck

"sorry, hi."

reaching one of your hands back to caress his face with your hand, you hum softly with a grin

"missed me that much, huh?"

leaning into your gentle touch, hotch's smile turns into a full blown grin

"always. but I have to say, I love your choice in pajamas tonight."

glancing down at yourself, it clicks that seeing you in his shirt is what set hotch off, & a devilish smirk spreads across your lips

"i'll keep that in mind. sir."

in conclusion if you hear screaming from across the world it is me

[scribeofnight]

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃. 🫧ㆍ₊⊹

✦ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ;; rafayel x gn!reader ✦ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ;; fluff, pure fluff and brainrots, not fully coherent thoughts ✦ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ;; 0.7k ✦ 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ;; obsessed and thinking about husband rafayel 24/7 - so a little filler drabble while i finish up the zayne oneshot and before i go to bed. enjoy my seashells <3 (currently can't add my yellows - i'll edit the format tomorrow)

✦ 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘦 (𝘧𝘪𝘤/𝘩𝘤𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯!!) ♡.

⟢ husband! rafayel who makes sure there's always a place for you to sit or lay down on when you're in the room watching him paint

⟢ husband! rafayel who smears paint on your cheeks while you're sleeping, only to feel bad and paint a small sunset or ocean or sunrise or the sky or anything, really, across your cheeks

⟢ husband! rafayel who will trace miscellaneous shapes on your collarbones and shoulders - connecting every freckle and mole

⟢ husband! rafayel who looks at your stretch marks and kisses them gently, tracing every curve and smiling up at you, stopping to only tell you how much they look like stardust

⟢ husband! rafayel who would cave when you give him puppy eyes and a pout - he's weak for you, he knows

⟢ husband! rafayel who once reserved a whole restaurant because he remembered you saying you don't like eating in front of a lot of people, just so you would be comfy on your date night

⟢ husband! rafayel who would collect seashells everyday as he walks on the beach with you, telling you stories about his adventures when he was a little kid in lemurian waters; placing them in a tiny jar that he gives to you - and his grin is so blinding and hug so warm and kiss so tender when he sees it on your desk and in your bag.

⟢ husband! rafayel who thinks you look exceptionally pretty in pearls, but he thinks you're ethereal when you're in his bed, curled up around him, bed hair and sour breath and all

⟢ husband! rafayel who grew fond of cats because of how much you love them - who fell in love with the way you looked and loved cats, and could never think of cats as harmful ever again (especially when you look at them like how you look at him)

⟢ husband! rafayel who buys you dresses upon dresses, if only to see you wear them and spin around like the disney princess you deserved to be but couldn't affort to be

⟢ husband! rafayel introducing you to little fishies during a swim in the ocean, calling you his wife and watching with awe as the fishes boop your nose and circle you two, guiding you both through the waters to the prettiest coral reef ever

⟢ husband! rafayel who lets you see his silvery scars from fighting for his kingdom, letting you trace them even though he flinches from the memories - only soothed by your fingertips and gentle kisses to his skin, your calloused thumbs wiping away falling tears

⟢ husband! rafayel dedicating a whole exhibit with every painting of everything you've ever loved and liked, with the centerpiece as both of you dancing at the banquet, with the words "for my ocean" as its caption

⟢ husband! rafayel who has never thought of having kids until he took one look at you with your nephew, and decided he wanted some then and there

⟢ husband! rafayel who brings you trinkets and tidbits from wherever he travels to, be it in Linkon or overseas, because every little thing reminds him of you (he'd rather live with your memory and you by his side than have to lose you again)

⟢ husband! rafayel that would not let you go anywhere without him - he knows you can defend yourself, but he wants to be able to see you and touch you just in case; he likes protecting you (if only to make up for all the time that he wasn't there to protect you - could you blame him? he wanted you to forget, he was sure you would)

⟢ husband! rafayel that would cook for you when you return home from work, shit-faced and weak, wobbly, exhausted legs - who would feed you and hold you close as your words slurred, a fond smile on his face as he squished your cheeks, watching you fall asleep, your features so beautifully calm and peaceful

⟢ husband! rafayel who never wants to see you cry, but would sit there on the bathroom floor at 5am, wiping your tears away when memories of you both together centuries ago flooded your mind, his heart aching as he watched you cry over not remembering him when it really was his fault

⟢ husband! rafayel who would hold your hair back when you didn't like the way it felt, tying it up into a bun and decorating it with little seashell clips so you felt pretty

⟢ husband! rafayel who would see his child hold a paintbrush, painting a very wonky looking apple and sing with glee - who would frame the apple painting and title it "[child's name]'s first painting"

⟢ husband! rafayel who would tell his child how wonderful of a mother you are, spinning the baby around before he tucks the baby onto his hips, holding her close

⟢ husband! rafayel who would rest his forehead against yours at least 5 times a day, loving the peace and love that radiates from you, seeping into him and soothing his bones, a quick kiss on your lips sealed the deal

⟢ husband! rafayel who always tells you that he's glad to finally be yours, to kiss you and hold you close

⟢ husband! rafayel who looks at you like you hung the moon and stars when you tell him you love him

⟢ husband! rafayel who is just so happy you come home to him everyday

♡. head empty only husband rafayel.

✧˖°. header creds ;; @editshan <𝟑

♡₊˚ 🪼・ copyright @scribeofnight all rights reserved ;; do not copy, steal, plagarize, reword or repost to other platforms without proper permission || all credits to original owners and creators of the characters from the media + pictures that are not my own.

[clemswinecorner]

Datenight [George Clarkey]

Summary: George and Y/N go on a date, without any of their friends knowing they're dating. Or do some of them?

Wordcount: 1k

Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine

Based on this request, as a response to neat :)

Main Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time they were out in public for a date, and they were close enough friends for it to not be seen as one. It was, however, the first time they were out in Central London, where any of their friends could decide to go to the exact restaurant they were sitting in the corner of. 

“I’m glad we’re doing this. That we’re able to just have some time together, going out, that we can have dinner together,” she says, looking at the man in front of her. “Well, I’d hope so, it’d be unfortunate if we went to dinner and we couldn’t eat,” he jokes, making her roll her eyes with a fond smile. “You know what I mean. I’m really happy to be with you,” she just says, making him smile. He reaches over, their hands on top of each other on the table. His thumb softly grazes her hand. “I’m really happy to be with you, too.”

They spend their first and second courses simply talking, joking around, looking at each other. Of course, it wasn’t a date night without some shameless flirting. George looked extremely handsome in his black button-up, and god, the short sleeves made his arms look extremely good. She had to keep herself from looking at them, the same way George had to remind himself not to stare too long. She was wearing a tight-fitting, white, off-shoulder top, and god, he wants her to never wear anything else ever again. 

As they were waiting for their dessert, their cheeks were a bit flushed from the wine as they giggled together. George lets out a content sigh, leaning back to look at her. “You know, I know I don’t say it a lot, but you’re an incredible person. A good shag too, if I may say so myself,” he jokes, making her giggle again as his expression softens. “Seriously, though. I’m really glad this is working out for us, you’re one of the best things to happen to me,” he quietly admits. She smiles at him, taking his hand that’s resting on the table. “I’m really glad, too, George. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else,” she says, making a small smile appear on his face as he shyly looks down. A comfortable silence falls over them, the couple simply enjoying each other’s company and the shared feelings between them. “I’m staying at yours, right?” She breaks the silence right as dessert is served. They both thank the waiter before continuing their conversation, “Yeah, the boys went out and would stay at Arthur’s, they said, telling me I’ll have the house to myself after ten,” George answers, grabbing his phone as she nods. “This looks so good. So you’re telling me we could've had a cosy night in without the boys?” She teases opening the camera app. She looks up to find George’s pointed at her. “What?!” George laughs at her reaction, “Just capturing your love for food. You look good, you look pretty. Happy.” She blushes at his comment, reluctantly taking a picture of her plate. “Which one did you get again?” She asks, looking over. “Uh, the crème brûlée,” he says, as she takes another picture of both plates together, commenting how good it looks. He smiles, looking at her adoringly, before briefly glancing out the window to the busy streets. She furrows her eyebrows as he sits up straighter, “Is that Arthur?!” She turns around, not immediately spotting the singer but recognizing the head of curls next to him. “Oh my god, yeah, they’re here. Should I go to the bathroom and you text me when they’re gone? I have to go anyway,” she says, already standing up. George nods, still with a confused look on his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll text.”

It takes less than five minutes before she gets back. “Any of them realise we were here?” She asks, pushing back her chair to sit down again. He shakes his head, taking his glass of water in his hand. “Maybe Arthur, he was looking in, but I don’t think Chris or TV saw me,” he twirls his drink before taking a sip. She looks at him thoughtfully. “Hey, if you want to tell them, that’s fine with me, you know that right?” He immediately nods. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I want to, eventually, but I’m keeping you to myself for just a while longer,” she smiles at him, as he looks around again. “Oh god, I just realised… They already think I’m on a fucking date,” George suddenly says. “Well you are, with me.” He chuckles at her comment, “Yeah, but they don’t know that! I won’t hear the end of it,” he groans, making her laugh along with him. “You’ll be fine. Are we finally going to eat this? I want a bite of yours.”

It’s nearly midnight by the time they walk back to George’s. They’d spend a little while more drinking the last of their wine, conversation flowing effortlessly. With the alcohol, the giggling, flirting and touching all increase, and they’re walking back leaning against each other, fingers laced together. “I’m glad we have the flat to ourselves, it’d be a long night if I had to go spend the night by myself,” George whispers, kissing her cheek. She giggles, turning to look him in the eye. “Hmm. Luckily we don’t have to think about that, because I’ll be yours tonight and every other moment of the day for the foreseeable future,” George giggles along, pulling them to stop. They giggle as he kisses her, their bodies completely together, almost forgetting where they are. She innocently smiles at him, “C’mon, let’s get to yours,” she whispers. When they arrive, they quickly make their way to George’s bedroom, too indulged by each other to think about anything else. Their phones are completely disregarded on his bedside table, neither of them looking at it until later that morning. George checks his texts for the first time as Y/N is doing her morning routine after their shower, to see one from his roommate. 

From: Arthur Hill

saw you and y/n having dinner last night, looking cosy ;) swayed arthur and chris the other way, they don’t have a clue. happy for you two, george. x 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 21

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,355ish

Summary: You and Logan go on a date.

Warnings: Fluff, anxiousness, sexual tension, mentions of sex (NO smut)

Notes: I hope you all like this chapter! The Last Stand is coming up next!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan couldn’t take his hands off you as the two of you sat in the lab. He was telling you everything he remembered. There were still gaps, but it made you happy to see him excited to remember past events. Especially your relationship. 

“You were always in there, sweetheart,” he told you as his energy whined down. “It’s why I was always so drawn to you. Why I seemed to care so much even though I couldn’t fully understand it.”

“I’m so happy for you, Logan.”

“I know that we still can’t continue where we left off. So, would ya go on a date with me tonight?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’d love to.”

He smiled back at you. “I’ll swing by your room at 7.” He leaned in and kissed your head. “Be ready.”

~~~

You were so anxious. Like a teenager going on their first date with the person they have a major crush on. Every piece of clothing you touched, trying to figure out what to wear, ended up in flames. It had been far too long since you had lost control of your powers like this, and it was only increasing your anxiety. Due to your anxiousness, you ended up slipping a body suit on that Hank had made you that would help prevent you from burning anymore clothing. You finally found an outfit that would work with the body suit and tried not to burn a hole through the floor as you paced while you waited.

The moment you heard the knock, you froze. You stared at the door, unable to get yourself to move enough to answer it.

Logan was rocking on his heels on the other side of the door. His hands were trembling with nerves, the bouquet in one of his hands threatening to fall to the ground. He could hear you come to a halt in your room and your frantic heart.

“Y/N?” He called, beginning to grow worried. “Are you all right in there?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “I’m fine.”

“Then, uh, sweetheart, are you going to open the door?”

“Oh!” You rushed over and opened the door.

Logan’s eyes immediately raked over you while you stood there awkwardly watching him. You were beautiful to Logan; even when he didn’t remember you, he knew you were beautiful.

“Uh, these are for you,” he handed you the bouquet.

You took them and placed them against your nose, breathing them in. “I love them. Thank you.”

“You ready?”

“Hold on.” You turned and set the flowers on your desk before heading out of the room. “Now I’m ready.”

Logan glanced down at your hands before stuffing his into his leather jacket. He wanted to take your hand but didn’t know if it was the right time yet. The two of you started walking towards the garage. 

“So, where are we headed?” You wondered.

“Not telling ya,” he replied with a small smirk. “You’re gonna have to wait and see.”

Upon entering the garage, you saw Scott’s bike with a helmet resting on its seat. You followed Logan over to the bike.

“Does Scott know that you’re stealing his bike again?” You teased.

Logan shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” 

He picked up the helmet and turned around. Before you could say anything, he was already placing the helmet on your head and fastening it under your chin. Every movement he made was careful and gentle, like any wrong move and you could break into a million pieces.

“Am not fragile, you know?” You whispered, gazing at him.

“I know,” he replied softly. “But I can’t take any more chances with you…” His hand rested against your cheek, thumb brushing your warm skin. “We’ve already lost too much time.”

Your brain wouldn’t allow you to be vocal, so you nodded in response. Logan moved his hand to the small of your back and pushed you closer to the motorcycle. He got on first before glancing back to make sure you got on. Once you were sitting, you wrapped your arms around Logan’s center and breathed him in. His smell was always your favorite: earthy, cigar, and completely Logan.

Logan inhaled sharply when your arms secured around him. He could only hope that you couldn’t feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as your closeness. He knew that this wasn’t the first time you two had been this close, but it was different today. 

Once Logan was sure you were ready, he started the motorcycle, and the two of you were off. You rested your head against Logan’s back as he drove the two of you away from the mansion. You allowed yourself to relax, closing your eyes, and trusting in Logan to take you somewhere that you’ll both enjoy.

It wasn’t too long later that Logan pulled into an old bar parking lot. You got off first, taking your helmet off as Logan slipped off the bike. 

“I know it’s not much,” he muttered, clearly nervous. “But I wanted someplace that was more private.”

You kissed his cheek as you slipped an arm through his. “I’m sure it’s perfect,” you told him.

Logan nodded, leading you into the bar. You looked around at the dimly lit place. It was pretty clean, with quiet country music playing on the speakers. There was an old bartender behind the counter, with a kitchen behind that in which you could hear noise coming from. There were two other patrons in the place, one at the bar and one at a booth, both nursing their own drinks. Logan guided you over to a quiet corner booth. You slipped in on one side while Logan sat on the other.

The bartender came over with two small menus, and the two of you quickly ordered some food and drinks. Silence fell between the two of you. Both of you had shared a lot of your stories in the past few months, even today when Logan woke and needed to tell you everything he remembered. Now, the two of you seemed to be out of words.

“Here you two go,” the bartender said, setting down your food and drinks.

“Thanks,” you gave him a small smile.

The bartender studied the two of you for a second. “First date?”

“Something like that,” Logan muttered.

The bartender stayed silent, nodding before leaving the two of you alone. The two of you begin to eat in silence, each of you stealing glances at the other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. A nice, slow love song came over the speakers, and you perked up.

“I love this song,” you mumbled with a smile.

Logan watched as you closed your eyes and began to hum to the song. He stood up and suddenly took your hand, pulling you up. Your eyes snapped open in surprise as you stumbled onto your feet.

“What are you doing?” You asked as one of his hands took yours and the other went around to the small of your back. He pulled you against him.

“Dancing,” he mumbled.

“You don’t dance.” Your other hand found Logan’s shoulder, wrapping around his neck.

“Maybe I do now.”

Logan began to lead you around in a small circle. You rested your head on him and let him have complete control. You could feel the tension leave Logan’s body the longer he held you close. It didn’t take long for Logan to guide the hand of yours he was holding to his neck so that he could put both of his hands on your back. His head came down and rested on top of yours. The two of you stayed like that through the song and into the next.

Suddenly, you stopped and looked at him. He couldn’t gauge what you were thinking, making his brows pinched together.

“What is—“

You cut him off with a quick peck on his lips. “Sorry. I got caught in—“

It was Logan’s turn to cut you off. His hands took hold of your face as he let his lips gently glide against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, with no fighting for dominance or tense passion. It felt like pieces of your and Logan’s souls were falling back into place after an eternity apart. When the kiss broke, Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still carefully holding your face. Your hands came up to grip his wrists. Your eyes remained closed as you let yourself savor the moment.

“Can I take you back to the mansion?” Logan asked, almost like he was nervous.

“Mhm,” you hummed with a nod.

You had to hold back a whine as Logan let you go to throw some money on the table. His lips perked up as he noticed your body try to follow his when he let you go. Logan took your hand, leading you out of the bar and to the motorcycle. He again helped you with the helmet and the two of you were quickly off.

~~~

Your hand held tightly to Logan’s as you pulled him into your room. Logan made sure to shut the door and lock it behind him before he pulled you in for a searing kiss. You leaned into it and allowed him to take the lead. Neither of you wanted to push the other’s boundaries, careful of each movement you made. Logan’s hands moved to your waist while yours went to his neck. One of his hands slipped under your shirt, only for him not to feel your skin but an odd texture. He pulled back from your lips with concern.

“What are you wearing underneath your shirt?” He asked.

You grew embarrassed and hid your head in his chest. “I kept burning my clothes,” you grumbled.

“What?” He laughed.

“I was so nervous that I kept setting everything on fire so I had to slip my bodysuit on under my clothes.”

“So you have a whole bodysuit on underneath your clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Sexy.”

You laughed, playfully smacking his chest. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “I’m glad to hear that you were nervous. I was, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Sweetheart, I bought three bouquets of flowers. Thankfully, I did because I destroyed two of them on accident before I could get out of my room.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” you giggled.

Logan wrapped his arms around you. “I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page with tonight. How far do you want this to go?”

You thought about it. The two of you had talked about going slow, starting at the beginning. But what did that really look like for the two of you?

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Logan quickly added. “I’m good with going at your speed.”

“I… I’m good to continue where we left off.”

“Like the making out?”

“Like the sex.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m not willing to do anything crazy, but… let’s see what happens. See where it goes.”

“And you’re sure?”

“James,” you took his chin to make sure he was looking into your eyes. “I’m sure.”

~~~

What happened that night was completely surrounded in love, though that word was never said. The two of you allowed yourselves to follow what your bodies were begging for, which was each other. Eventually, the two of you ended up naked and asleep, cuddled next to each other. While you were asleep, Logan was studying every inch of your body that he could see. His fingers gently brushed over some of your many scars. A few of them made his heart clench as they were similarly aligned to his claws. As Logan continued to brush over your scars, you slowly woke.

“What’s wrong?” You groggily said.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Go back to sleep.”

You looked to see where his hand was, running over a scar. You sighed before looking back up at him. “Talk to me.”

“Did I… I know I caused the ones on your chest from the Statue of Liberty, but… Did I cause these others?”

“Logan, don’t do this.”

“Please, tell me.”

You sighed, really not wanting to have this conversation. “Yes, but you didn’t mean to inflict a single one of these, okay? Do not feel overwhelmed with guilt.”

“But I—“

“No. I healed, I’m fine.”

“You scar…”

“Every scar reminds me of how strong I am.”

“I just don’t like the idea of being able to hurt you.”

“I can hurt you too. You may not scar, but I can do some damage and I have in the past.”

Logan simply nodded, still staring at your scars. You took his hand and brought it up to your face. Logan gasped, trying to pull away as your lips kissed between his knuckles where his claws came out. You held tight, moving to kiss the next spot and then the next. Logan watched in awe as you did that with both of his hands. 

“Release your claws,” you requested softly.

“No,” Logan quickly responded, shaking your head.

“James.” 

Your tone left no room for argument. Slowly, Logan let his claws slide out of his knuckles. You sat up to get a better grasp on his wrists.

“I used to kiss your claws on the time,” you whispered. “Do you remember?”

“Vaguely,” he mumbled, watching you carefully.

“That’s okay. I haven’t kissed these claws yet anyway.”

Logan held his breath as he watched you kiss each of his adamantium claws. You were so gentle and careful with his claws and your movements. Logan was in complete awe of you. You were truly amazing. Once you were done showing his claws some love, you still kept his wrists in your hands.

“Your claws are amazing, Logan,” you told him. “They are defenders—protectors. And I love them.”

“You’re amazing, darlin’,” he whispered, still in complete awe.

You leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. “Can we go back to sleep now?”

He chuckled, pulling you down and into him. “Sure, sweetheart. We can sleep as long as you want.”

next chapter >

[psychesalcove]

NOT A LOT, JUST FOREVER, intertwined, sewn together

Jason Grace x Fem. Reader Synopsis: Jason isn't always the best at verbally showing his love to you, his girlfriend. He makes up for it by showing you how much he loves you in other ways.

not proofread

part of psyches fall writes – want to read some more?

Jason had never relied much on telling people how he felt about them. Growing up trained as a soldier, and not a lover definitely had its perks, but also its drawbacks.

He loved you in every way possible. He just didn't know how to tell you this. Jason wanted to be able to pour is heart out to you, and only you.

He wanted to tell you how the simplest to the most complex things reminded him of you, how he's picked up on the smallest things you do and tries to adapt to those things, how you're always the first person he looks for in every situation. How he never wants to let you go and be able to hold and love you until the ends of time.

Which would be easy to say, given that they were all true. But Jason could never bring himself to say these things out loud, so he switched to show you other ways.

..

– Physical Touch

The morning breeze of camp drifted into the Zues cabin, beckoning you to awake further than you already had. You sat at Jason's desk, your skincare scattered around. Even though you were tired, you wanted to get your routine out of the way so you could start your day.

Both Jason and you had lessons you had to teach today, hence why neither of you could stay in the warm covers of Jason's bunk. He was in the bathroom taking a shower, probably an ice cold one knowing him. You rubbed the lotion into your face as you heard the bathroom door squeak open, Jason coming out already dressed in his cargo pants and camptshirt.

"Hi, m'love." You mused as you heard him walking about behind you. He mumbled a reply, already on his way to you. Jason draped his arms over your shoulders and put his head on top of yours.

you felt him press a soft kiss into your hairline, a smiling finding itself onto his face as he hard you giggle in response. He moved one of his hands to your shoulder blade and starting rubbing slow circles into the skin, the smell of his vanilla bodywash engulfing you as you leaded into his touch. he pressed another kiss to your hair before gently pulling away, knowing that you would take hours to finish your skincare if he kept distracting you.

– Quality Time

Jason and you sat in the crafts n' arts center, you needing to cover for kayla because the infirmary was more crowed than usual (probably due to the capture the flag game a couple of days ago). Jason had insisted he come with you because he had nothing better to do, hence why he was sitting with you here now.

your hands were busy painting a small canvas, the younger campers not needing any assistance at the moment. You were doing random strokes of different colors, a specific image in your mind for the outcome of your craft.

Jason moved slightly in his seat so that he was closer to you, his own hands busy making a bracelet; or what looked like an attempt of one. your eyes drifted over to Jason's hands trying to tie a knot in thread, and you giggled a little. "what are you doing honey?" You put down the paintbrush and put your hand onto his upper leg, getting his attention.

"im trying to make a bracelet for you," he hummed, hands still trying to tie it all together. You laughed lightly again, thumb rubbing back and fourth on his leg. Your heart also swelled at the thought of him trying to make you something.

Before you could ask to assist him, he smiled and turned to you with a proud look in his eyes. "Here, ill put it on you love." He said and gently grabbed your hand, slipping the poorly made jewelry onto your wrist.

"I'll wear it everyday," you declared as you pecked his nose, causing Jason's face to become flushed.

– Acts of Service

You sat on the stool of a Cafe in New Rome, watching demigods go about their day outside. Jason had gone up to order the two of you drinks and insisted that you should sit still so you could rest.

Yesterday was intense war trainings that New Rome made their campers do as a monthly activity, so it was nice to be able to go to a cafe and not do war related things. "Here you go m'love." You heard as Jason sat down your favorite drink on the table.

"Thank you hon," Jason sat down across from you, his own drink in his hands.

"Of couse," he hummed, taking a sip of his iced drink. Before you could take a sip of your own, you saw something written on the lid of your cup. Your eyes scanned over the message that read 'for the prettiest girl ever:)'

You smiled and looked back up at Jason, who was looking at you with a shy smile. "Sorry if it's cheesy, I just wanted to remind you that you're pretty," He rushed out, taking another sip so he his focus could be on his drink and not your reaction.

You blushed and smiled as your eyes went back down to the message. "I think that you're also pretty, hon," you mused happily, already knowing that you would be saving the lid of the cup for the foreseeable future.

[ur-mousey]

Elevator Sex ~

Yandere! Landlord! Geto Suguru x F!Reader

summary Landlord Geto fucks you in the elevator. You will learn your place. 1.1k warning mature, smut, cheating?, voyeurism, non-con.

..............................

Geto Suguru spent many nights in the room over from yours. It was the closest seat in the complex to your strip tease. He hated that you started to refuse him small talk, to your gracious landlord, who built his schedule around your comings and goings. You should be cordial, to say the least. Each morning, he would remind you to double-check your person. You tended to be forgetful. Stupid poor thing, you were. When you first arrived, you were prone to call up at noon to have him search for your room key. Geto didn't mind. He felt less perverted in those times you begged him to check on things. He'd chalked it up to you flirting, especially when your used underwear found home in his pocket. And, every time you said it would be the last, yet, you would do it again. You had a knack for leaving important things behind just like you were doing him. For weeks, he would wave in the foyer after you got back from work, ushering you to converse with him. 

However, every single time, you would squirm into the comfort of your apartment. He'd even had to drill a hole through your wall to make up for you ignoring him. He assumed you felt guilt.

It was your fault that he had to refuse another tenant from moving next door. It was your fault he took the listing offline. He was losing money. But, watching your tits hang while you changed from your work clothes gave him much fapping material. The walls being thin allowed your voice to fall into his lap. When he caught you gurgling on that man's cock, he imagined your hollow cheeks milking him.

You would look so pretty, sopping on the floor, your silk ruining the carpets which he'll lick up after he wears you to sleep. And, he'd felt more than knew, that he would be enamored by your worship of his cock that he'll press you into a mating lock.

He wanted to see you bound to him through the most intimate action of man. Your precious pussy needed to pulse around his shaft. 

You needed to learn your place. 

Mediocre sex with your boyfriend pained him when he thought too much of it. He would rather watch your toys vibrate your blushing lips despite your stifling moans. That boyfriend of yours was arrogant. He left you without building your orgasm to its head. It felt pathetic. 

Your landlord decided it was time to get involved.

>>>

"I'll see you later tonight," Your boyfriend cooed. He dipped his head to catch your lips in a soft kiss. You sighed and rolled your eyes before softly reciprocating. He stroked his thumb over your cheek. 

You lifted your coffee to your lips, needing the caffeine to silence your budding words. Your boyfriend brought you out on your day off to get breakfast. While seated in the French-styled cafe, Naofumi explained his new promotion. You were excited for him. This new change meant an upgrade from his shitty apartment to a new one. However, it didn't mean you were in his plans. You've dated since high school. Took the entrance exams side by side, graduated college together, and now, you're here.

The changes don't seem noticeable until you read between the lines. He used to include 'we' in sentences, now it's 'I' this, 'me' that.

Now, as Naofumi gave one final squeeze to your hand, the only thing you could think of was your landlord, who was staring bullets at you through the glass doors. You were somewhat aware of his crush.

Like a puppy, he waited in the foyer for your return. 

"Welcome back," Geto Suguru lifted his chin. He stood in your path to the elevators, strong biceps pushed his plush tits to your attention.

You felt intimidated to give him more than a passing bow. You looked down at your shoes. The pressure of his gaze made you wonder what it would be like to take a chance with him. But, you did love Naofumi.

You tried to sidestep Geto. You failed to meet his gaze and you kept your head down. You clutched your purse to your chest.

"Take me to your unit." Geto commanded to your discomfort. Other tenants who were leaving the complex regarded his hulking frame. And they'd probably wondered what had you in his bad graces.

"Excuse me?" You stuttered, taking a step back.

Geto slipped behind your frame, he gently shoved you forward. His natural musk caused your nose to wrinkle. The blood rushed down to his shaft, his cock sprang into action in his sweats. "A few of the units been experiencing plumbing problems. There, I need to check yours."

Bullshit!

You lived on the tenth floor and you were prepared for the awkward ride up. Geto hit your floor button. The elevator began its climb from the first level to the third but between the fourth and fifth floor, Geto punched the control panel and the elevator came to a stop.

You laughed through your teeth, "Geto-san? What are you doing?"

"If you want to continue living here. There are some rules you need to follow~" Geto leaned his back against the door. He blocked your only means of escape.

"One, break up with your boyfriend. He's not allowed to step a foot in here or I might rip him apart. Hearing him fuck you… I can't anymore." You felt the onslaught of an up-and-coming panic attack. Did he listen to your sex life? Your legs squeezed tight together. "Second, you will quit your job. It's too deep into the city for me to ensure your safety.

"Geto-san…" You whined through a fit. You threw your cup filled with lukewarm coffee as if it could replicate an impenetrable fort. You felt like a child as you stomped and pleaded for the man to let you go.

You wished at this moment that you had something. Pepper spray or a switchblade. Anything that could get you elsewhere. Geto solemnly moved, he allowed your tantrum to fizzle out. He then stepped over the mess. "Last rule. From now until you die, we're partners. So start calling me by my name. Su-gu-ru."

>>>

Your head lulled to the side, you felt weighted down by the copious amounts of coffee and cum that your hair soaked up like a mop.

Hair clung to your body. You couldn't tell which of it were yours or his. Time didn't exist but you counted the number of times you tensed up around his thick cock. "Su-uh," The moans were knocked from within your chest, it bubbled at each hit to your cervix. Geto's hips shuttered against your weeping pussy. "I- I'll do it! Please stop."

You tried screaming earlier and it got your panties shoved into your mouth. You were at your breaking point. You would do anything to get him off of you. "I'll be your dirty little slut! Su, please finish!"

Your chest heaved forward when Geto pushed his palm down onto the base of your belly. He edged himself against your inner walls. The ends of his charcoal hair teased your clit, along with his thumb which thrummed heavenly on your nerve, and it ghosted along your thighs to the rhythm of his pumps. "I'll follow your rules. I won't talk to Nao anymore," You rambled back his earlier demands. You promised him through another fit of throwing arms and legs that you'll be perfect.

His perfect cockwarmer.

"He, eh, said that he would come later tonight." You whimpered out from between your lips that you bit carelessly. "Suguru, you can be there when I- break things off. Then I can call my boss and put in my 2-week notice. You'll have all of me!" You huffed. Geto embraced your cunt lapping at the tip of his cock. Even if he tried to pull out now, your pretty little pussy sucked him in deep.

.............................. Thank you for reading! I had something different planned but I haven’t finished writing it but I wanted to update. Please leave ideas in the comments! Request rules are here! >>> NEXT JJK POST: Yandere! God! Sukuna x Disciple! F!Reader! prt 2. You can read prt 1 here.

[maiiuelle]

Now I'm picturing the opposite: Mermaid!reader bringing jj something she thinks is really valuable but is kind of worthless. but jj sees how excited and hopeful she is so he pretends it's valuable and carries it around in his pocket all the time so she'll see that he likes it. and then with time it ends up being one of his favourite things he owns because it reminds him of her 🙊

ooo i love thiss!! opposite of this ask :)

jj is relaxing on the warm sand after a long day of surfing, watching you run around the beach in search of shells to bring home as a souvenir. since leaving the sea, your obsession with exploring has only grown, especially with so many new things to find on land.

it’s not long until you’re running back over to him with something tucked safely in your fist. “jayj! i got somethin’ for youu.” you drop to your knees beside where he’s sitting, your hand hidden behind your back.

“oh yeah? lemme see.”

you pull out a handful of sand and seashells, but you carefully pick out a shard of green sea glass, dull at the edges and translucent from tumbling around in the surf. you’re practically shaking you’re so excited, eyes locked on his face in anticipation for his reaction.

as always, his face lights up. truthfully, he doesn’t care what you bring him, just the fact that you want to give him anything is enough to melt his heart. “oh wow, look at that!” he holds his calloused hand out for you to drop it into his palm so he can take a closer look.

“you like it?” you smile, putting it in his hand while you shove the rest of the shells back into your pocket.

“uh, yeah! ‘course i do, cupcake.” jj slips it into the pocket of his cargo shorts where it stays from then on. he pulls it out if he needs a reminder of you, which is really any time you’re apart. it’s mostly just that he likes you so much, but there’s always a twinge of anxiety about something happening to you. you’re curious, but really oblivious — if you got yourself into trouble, or if someone discovered your secret, he doesn’t know what he’d do. the way his thumb glides over the smooth glass grounds him, helping him at least calm down until he sees you again.

jj loves it so much he ends up drilling a little hole in it, tying a thin black string through it to hang it around his neck so it doesn’t get lost. you honestly forgot all about it until he shows up wearing it, and you just about fall in love all over again <3