#He's wearing nice clothes that fit him instead if hand me downs :(

[shinysparklesapphires]

WHY IS HE WHITEEEE THAT AINT RUGGIE THATS RONALD

[bi-writes]

the lamb experiment

a body is given. and it cannot be taken back.

pairing: ghost (+ tf141) x curvy!fem!reader word count: 6.3k summary: the 141 are not known for their pliancy. in an effort to take back control, they send a lamb to slaughter.

cw: (18+) mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!tf141, military criticism, unhealthy power dynamics, graphic descriptions of violence + gore + torture + murder, themes of dubcon (but reader is consenting), piv, cumplay, fear play, size kink, praise kink, curvy!reader with hair long enough to hold

You don't think you've ever been the object of anyone's affections, not really. Although you are blessed with many gifts, even physically, you do not see yourself that way when you look in the mirror. How you feel inside betrays you when you look in one, and instead of staring too long, you always turn away.

This time, you stare. Because her ass looks nice, and her skin looks soft, and her face isn't disagreeable.

This reflection almost terrifies you. In front of you lies a woman you do not know.

She looks good. Your clothes are a size too snug, and it squeezes all the parts of you that normally you attempt to hide. Your thighs, the cinch of your waist, every curve you cover up with your uniform normally is on display, and instead of your hair in a standard bun, it lays free. You are anything but the soldier you always see, and just when you think about running, there is a knock at the bathroom door.

You open it, straightening out your outfit, and you look down shyly when you see the face on the other side of the door.

"It's...a little tight," you say, tugging at the waistband of your pants, but the woman tuts, crossing her arms over her chest as she steps back to look you up and down.

"It's as it should be," she responds, very matter-of-fact. "Now follow me. Need to debrief before your flight."

Her name is Laswell. You have not been graced with any other name, and you suspect it is because she wants you to call her Laswell and nothing else. She is blunt and intelligent, and there is no room for anything but the truth with her. If you answer her with a lie, she waits until she hears what she knows is expected.

When you sit, she spreads a few files out in front of you. Four manila folders, three packed with documents and pictures, one with documents only. You reach for one, eyeing the labeled name.

MacTavish.

You open it, and you're overwhelmed with the information. You see a man with pretty blue eyes and a military history that would put your old squadron to shame. Flicking through the pages, there are numerous confirmed kills, no small list of disarmed explosives, reports written by others and himself that even at a quick glance exude something impressive, utmost intelligence and extensive knowledge. You take note of his unique hairstyle; shaved sides of his head and tuffs of dark waves that run down the middle. You acknowledge how much you like when it gets a little long, falling in curls over his forehead.

The next file is equally as large. You flip it over, and you tilt your head to the side when you see a picture of him. He isn't posing, but his stature is one of confidence, and he's gorgeous. A strong facial structure, dark eyes. He keeps his hair short, and his skin is dark, and as your eyes roam lower, you notice the strong muscles of his forearms as he grips a rifle. His skill sheet is no less impressive than his sergeant counterpart. He has been in so many dangerous situations, and he comes out with nothing but scratches; and he seems to be deadlier with nothing but his hands than any small firearm could be.

Kyle. It's fitting.

You look away from his pretty face to their commanding officer. There is a picture of him with the other two sergeants, and you notice how he stands taller than them, but just as broad, and you think military fatigues suit him well. He wears his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and you can see the expanse of his strong arms and his large hands, and you take note of his carefully sculpted beard and the hat he wears. When you flip through the history, you are overwhelmed with the amount of ops he carries under his belt. This man is a war machine. You suspect there is a number on his head somewhere, in some distant country, and it makes you shift in your seat when you realize this isn't someone easy to kill.

He does the killing. And that's all that matters to the Crown.

John. That is the one that has to matter most.

"He's the one who calls the shots." Laswell's voice cuts through your heavy thoughts. She takes the last folder and opens it for you, and immediately you notice the lack of photos here. "But this is the glue."

Ghost. That is the name that sits on the official documents, but there is a dirty sticky note pasted next to it with Laswell's chicken scratch.

Simon Riley.

"His name is redacted," she says simply. "And so is his face."

"He has no face?" You ask, and when you realize how you worded it, you think it a stupid sentence, but Laswell only stares.

"Not one that matters," she responds. You look back down at the documents. He is tall, and you observe that he's most skilled with a sniper rifle, although he doesn't lack confidence or efficacy in any other form of combat. Hand-to-hand, smaller firearms, rifles, he uses them all with a terrifying accuracy, and you pull the papers closer to you as you read more.

"The glue," you murmur, not quite understanding. "And what am I supposed to be?"

"The solvent. The hammer. Whatever the fuck I need you to be."

The thing that breaks it apart. The thing that tears. The thing that makes them bleed.

And so you lie. It is what you do, what you are taught. Laswell is good at it, and you are a fish to water with it. You lie until it comes as easy as breathing, you learn to pretend until it is all you know, and when you create your second life, it is easy because it is the only one Laswell tells you to know.

You are a soldier, and you do as you're told. When your orders are to forget who you were and become something else, you do it, because that is how it works. And you know what you are in Laswell's eyes--you are a weapon, and you gave your body to the state, and she can do what she pleases with it.

And you know, really, what she expects you to do.

It isn't spoken of. She never says it out loud. But when you study the files she gives you, you notice there are more details that what is necessary. You learn more about them, in ways that feel intimate, that feel secret.

That John's favorite color is red. That MacTavish likes a traditional meal. That Kyle has a sweet tooth and likes jazz. That Ghost downs two fingers of Kentucky bourbon to unwind.

They are things to help make them agreeable, you think, but agreeable in what way is up to you.

But red looks good in lace. You've been told the stomach is the way to the heart. Chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. And alcohol is the perfect enabler--and armed with this information, you will divide and conquer.

Break and tear apart. Separate. Sever the bond. That is your mission, that is what you've been told to do, and you will do it because that is what a good soldier does, and this is all you are.

Laswell's pet. Her pretty little soldier. The hammer to her nail, the bone for her dogs, the string that will mend the ones snapped by her own puppets.

She wants control, and she isn't stupid, and neither are you. When you look in the mirror again, you understand why she picked you. No matter how far her men stray, they cannot change what they are at their core.

Men.

And men are fickle.

You suspect, you hope, even these ones are. They are not gentle, and Laswell makes sure that you learn well why it is they need supervision. She shows you pictures, videos, eyewitness statements of their spiral into violence.

It's not that they weren't war criminals before, but they were her war criminals. Unsanctioned ops, sure, but they toed a line that was drawn for them. But then the red tape became too much, even if there wasn't very much of it for them.

They began to ignore orders. When they were told to stay put, a sergeant would slip off, and under the guise of protecting them, all four would end up in a firefight. And when this became a frequent excuse, they stopped coming up with them. They simply showed up in manila folders like the ones you held, enemy casualties sometimes in the hundreds, and they did not appear even when required.

Debriefing? Their connection was bad. A hearing in front of their superiors? They're on a mark, and they cannot move. And then it was just silence. The occasional response to real crisis, and then back underground, until all Laswell could get from them were limbs taken off the enemies they weren't allowed to kill just yet.

They knew how to disappear. They knew how to hide. They knew how to stay put, come back up overground, and then scurry back underneath where no one would find them.

But that wouldn't do. Not for the CIA, not for SAS, not for either of their governments who soon realized they had let loose a group of soldiers-turned-mercenaries who hold valuable secrets that could put their politicians at the forefront of Congressional hearings, NATO violations, and then in the right mess of breaking off relations with a numerous amount of countries they already held fragile relationships with.

The 141 is a liability. They need to be the ones pulling the reigns again, no matter the cost--and they tell Laswell to do it, and to spare no expense and to pull back the curtain on what she believes might be crossing even the lines she has drawn before, to go beyond it.

She draws this line around you. A circle, a fence, wrapping around you as she molds you into what she needs you to be. She is honest. Not always kind, but honest, and because she is, you want to succeed.

Finally, you can be of use. Finally, there is something that will give you purpose. Even if it hurts, even if it kills you, you want to give her what she needs, because it isn't fair.

You have already given them everything, and you have nothing to show for it. So you paint your face, and you zip up the tight pants, you lie and you learn and you listen, and when she tells you that they will not be gentle, all you reply is, "I won't be either."

Men are fickle. And they fucking deserve this.

You are wearing red when John sees you for the first time. It is in your hair, a bright red scarf that keeps it out of your face, and you know he looks right at you and not through you when your eyes meet.

When he eyes the open door of your room later that evening, you pretend not to notice his gaze when he drinks in the sight of you in red lingerie.

It is the first morning you are with them that Johnny wakes to the smell of something in the rec room. You stand there, at the stove, stirring a wooden spoon in a warm pot, and when he steps in, you turn to see him, and you smile. You exchange no words, but when you hold a tasting spoon out to him with a soft potato and a spoonful of wonderful broth, he can't help the way he closes his eyes. There's a beautiful woman cooking stovies in the rec room, and when he opens his eyes, you are looking right back at him.

And then it's the music that plays in the evening that catches Kyle's attention. They are trailing back to their rooms after drills, and he catches sight of you in your room, and he can hear Ella Fitzgerald, and when you look over your shoulder, he is there, and he doesn't shy away.

And then--fuck--it is so easy.

Wherever you go, they follow. Unconsciously, you suspect, but they do, and you live the lie, and it feels fucking euphoric. You know you've won when you run your knuckles down John's cheek for the first time, and he keens, nuzzling the side of his face into your hand and chasing after your touch.

They are animals. You watch them when you join them on ops, rifle in front of you as you follow them, and you keep a neutral face as you observe them wreak havoc. They kill and they maim, and they sleep like the dead at night, as if the heinous ways they kill do not bother them at all. John points, and Kyle pulls the trigger. John nods his head, and Johnny detonates, nothing but a dull reflection in those blue eyes. John clicks his teeth, and Ghost sweeps.

He sweeps, and he kills, and if it wasn't so fucking terrifying, you would have admired the way he did it. The elegance that he took on an entire room of moving targets, how he never let himself be pinned down in one spot. Whenever someone gets too close, he goes hand-to-hand, and it's fucking brutal the way he finishes them off. He keeps throwing knives in his boot, and they sink into eye sockets as if running through tender meat. He puts blades through their mouths and doesn't let them go until the light leaves their eyes.

You hate that it makes you warm. That there is something deep in your belly, that twists there, that tells you that you like it. When he turns around and meets your eyes, wringing the blade out of someone's neck and letting them drop on the floor at your feet, you don't flinch. You simply kick them to the side and step over them, and Ghost watches as you lick over your teeth as you pass by him.

Insatiable. Fucking hungry. He eyes the sway of your hips, and when he finds his next target, he uses his hands again just because he needs to feel flesh under his gloved hands, needs to tear it apart. And when he feels you watching him again, he grunts as he stands to his full height. He's a fucking bear, and you leave him with a hint of a smile before you turn the corner.

You are not sure if you are pretending that day.

They ravage, and then they go back to their beds, and they wash the blood from their clothes with ease--and the worst part of it all is that you do it, too. You come out of the same places that they do, and your face is splattered with their targets. Your jeans have flecks of brain matter, your hands are dirty with someone's singed flesh. When you finally stand in the light back at their base, all John does is sit you in front of the bathroom mirror and wipe at your face with a warm towel.

He tells you how good you've done. How special you are. How he has never seen a woman keep up with them so easily, fit into their pack like she was meant to be.

He says that you belong, but he doesn't say to who. You wonder, for a second, if he means that you belong to them all.

When you report back to Laswell, you tell her this. What you don't tell her is what you've had to do to gain this status. You don't tell her about the blood you spill. You don't tell her about the bodies you see or the men that lose their faces or how worked up the boys get after an op and how it takes them hours between your legs to lose the adrenaline.

You don't tell her this because this is for you. It's all for you.

They tell you things you aren't supposed to know. When you're in their beds, they talk, and you listen. Kyle tells you about the man they are keeping in the cellar. That he's been there for 29 days, and he hasn't said a word, but that Ghost will be next to speak to him, and he will talk then.

Kyle tells you that it is a mercy that Ghost hasn't visited him yet, but they are done playing nice. When he says this, you have the image of Ghost standing over a man who pulled a gun on you in your head, and you remember watching him with a sickening relief as he pressed his thumbs into the man's eye sockets and pushed they were nothing but squished matter. You squeeze your legs together; and this time, you don't feel bad about it.

Johnny begs for you, his bonnie lass, to keep close to him on the next op because you strayed too far today. He fucks you to make you say yes, his lips on your ear as he tells you to promise him that you'll do as he says, and that if you promise, he'll let you come. So you promise, and he fucks you boneless, and the next day, you are glued to his hip when you raid a foreign embassy for nothing but answers.

You know they know. They don't say it out loud, but you know that they all know where you go at night. One night, you are kneeling under John's desk, kissing the pearly tip of him before taking him down your throat for what feels like hours. The next, you are letting Kyle bend you over his desk, rattling it against the wall as he tells you how pretty you are. And in the morning, you are pressed against the shower wall, Johnny holding your wide hips in his hands as he fucks into you, begging you, bonnie, please--give it to me, tha's it, right there, ye can do it, good girl--

Good girl. That's what you are. You're a good girl, and you do as you're told. You smile, and you keen, and you give them big, soft eyes, and you let them have the illusion of control. Maybe they think they're pressuring you. Maybe they think they scare you. Maybe they think this is why you get on your knees for them or let them pool your pants at your ankles or allow them to have you whenever they want, but the reality is that you want it, and you need it, and this is working.

They don't even realize you've fucked them into submission because they're too busy showing off.

A domino effect. You expect them all to fall once you have the captain, but there is one chess piece that does not move willingly.

Ghost.

He is an unmovable object. He stands still and rigid, and he is a statue that refuses to be pushed or pulled in any direction but one he deems. Even in the middle of the nights, when you notice he is awake, he never joins you when you drink his favorite bourbon outside. He doesn't ask for a cigarette when you smoke one, even though you never actually take a puff of it. He passes by you, and he doesn't look at you, and you are invisible.

You want to be content with what you've accomplished, but it isn't enough.

This is the glue. He is the glue, and without him, everything falls apart, and you cannot fail. There isn't room for it. And maybe you feel bad for preying on the parts of Ghost that you think he prefers to keep hidden, but you need to catch him before he gets too far away.

A kitchen accident. A knife that plunges too deep, that draws blood and makes you cry. You are in the bathroom, tears coming down your face, blood in the sink, and your hands are shaking as you try and patch yourself up. You are loud enough to draw the attention of the lieutenant whose door is only just across the hall, and when he sees you there, he doesn't leave you.

One moment there is nothing, and the next, he is behind you, a pervasive warmth at your back, and you whimper when a gloved hand wraps around your injured hand. Wordlessly, he turns the faucet on, running your hand under the water, and you hiccup, looking away and breathing deeply.

He wraps your hand in his room. You sit on his bed, and he works to cover the wound, and you know he has done this before. Soothed another's tears, quieted soft cries, covered up cuts and bruises and things that will scar.

He kneels in front of you, and when he stands to his full height, you tip your head back to look up at him. You think you will meet a soft gaze, but he glares, and he seems angry. When you open your mouth to speak, he tsks, and your tip trembles as you close it.

"Y'can fool the others," he says lowly, finally. "But not me."

You frown, confused. When you sniffle, he snarls.

"I know why y'r here," he murmurs. "Isn't the first time Laswell has sent one of her little...toys."

You clench your jaw. For a moment, something envious rattles you. You aren't like anyone else. You are certain no one has accomplished what you have, that no one has gotten this close to rock the fucking boat or pet the beast. He doesn't get to demean the progress you've made like this, even if he's figured you out, because you aren't going anywhere.

Not until you get everything you need.

"Excuse me?"

"Y'r a spy. You're CIA's whore, and I don't like y'here, puttin' y'r bloody nose where it don't belong," he kneels, his voice low and gruff, and he reaches over and grips your chin hard. "Y'may have fooled them. In their fuckin' beds...in their heads--" He draws you closer, and you swallow. "But y'r not in mine."

You meet his eyes. They are dark, and they are meant to scare you, but the feeling that runs through you isn't one that terrifies you. He is a magnet--and you can feel the field of his presence, and it has you. This is supposed to be your show. They are men, and they are stupid, and you hate them, and Ghost should be eating out of the palm of your fucking manicured hand, but there he is, spitting against his mask, and it is you that aches to see what is underneath the cotton.

"So, little lamb..." Ghost rumbles, and it is with his entire chest that he speaks. "Wot is it you're here to do, eh?"

You shake your head, "N-Nothing. She...all she told me was that this was a joint operation...CIA and SAS--"

"Y'r on the piss, I know that," he hisses, clicking his teeth. "Joint operation," he laughs, but it is without humor. "Is that we're calling this now? Being barracks bunny for the 141?"

"Fuck you," you snap, shoving his hand off. "You're a fucking bastard, and if you think--"

"If I think wot, eh?" He stands, and you choke as he grips you by your throat, lifting you off of his bed and forcing you against the wall. You grip his wrist, but it is useless, because he's a brute, and you are nothing to him. He holds you there on your toes, and you grip him tighter, but he doesn't budge. Even digging your nails into him doesn't make him flinch. If anything, he seems amused. "Wot kind of trainin' she make y'do, eh? Did ya have to practice? Who'd y'shag to get y'r stripes?"

"Eat shit," you spit, and he snickers. There is fire in your eyes, venom on your tongue, you are a fighter, and when the world is so quiet, fighting feels good, and he knows this feeling well. He understands what it means to be nothing and then something, what it means to worthless and then useful in the eyes of government and government alone.

Because you are useful, but only to Laswell, and only as this, whatever this is. Whatever you are. Pet, prize, toy--it doesn't matter what the name is today, but it will stick tomorrow, and you wonder, sickeningly, if that is your destiny.

To be unknown. To be used. To be the property of what you do not know. To be given, to be taken, to not know and to be content with not knowing.

To accept it because it is still better than whatever you were before.

He sees this. He looks into your eyes, he breathes in, and he hums, and when his grip loosens just enough, you put your toes on the ground, and you lean in, and there you are.

One and the same. Bitten, chewed, spit out, two people who are products of their suffering and the culmination of their sheer fucking will to live, even if the living is miserable.

Maybe that is what it is. Maybe it's what's broken that will put you together. Ghost is the glue, you are the solvent, and you will make it so.

Because I can't fail, I can't do it, I won't go back, I can't go back--

"I'm here for me," you whisper. "I'm here for me, and no one else--" You gasp, and it isn't a lie, not really. You are here for you, this is for you, even if it is at the downfall of someone else. If you need to step on necks to get ahead, you will.

Ghost is the last piece. The last one you need to move. He is stuck, but now you know what it is you need to do, you know how to set the game into motion.

"Ghost," you breathe, and it's soft, it's quiet. You meet his eyes, and you lean close, and he feels your breath on the front of his mask. "It's not what you think."

"You're a lamb."

"I don't wanna be a lamb."

"It doesn't matter what y'want, y'are a lamb," he growls, and you whine, and he hums, and you can see the crinkle of his eyes, and you know he must be smiling. "Tha's wot y'are, and y'can't run away from tha'."

You blink, and he stares, and there is understanding. You are prey, and you belong, but you don't know where. But then you remember you are a soldier, and it isn't your job to know. Your job is to lie still and let them have you.

And to not tell my handler how much I like it.

"It's what they made me," you whisper, and when there are tears in the corner of your eyes, he is gentle. He smooths his hand down your throat, rubbing a thumb over your trembling lip, and you know that he understands you. "It's not what I wanted."

"It's never what we want," he murmurs. "Never."

You hold your breath when he cups your face with a big gloved hand. Dark eyes on soft ones, and you wonder what it would be like to have him. He doesn't keen the way John does, doesn't kneel the way Johnny kneels, doesn't follow and listen without objection the way that Kyle does. No, he's a brick wall, and you need to be what knocks him over. You need to shake the foundation, split it in two.

You need to sever the fucking bond and do your fucking job.

"So when can I have what I want?" You ask him softly. "When...when is it my turn?"

He tilts his head to the side, curious, and you slide your hands up his forearms, over the muscle of his biceps. He is everything you cannot have.

And he is everything that you suddenly realize you want.

Forbidden. Unrelenting. The oxygen to a raging fire. He isn't the glue, he's the catalyst to whatever the fuck you bring to the experiment, and even though you know this will be disaster, you want it. You want it so badly.

Destruction tastes so good. Control is victory. Sex is power, and you want him, you want this, you want him to have you, to own you, to make you see what he sees, because it will be familiar because you are the same.

"Y'r a soldier," he says lowly. "Not about what we want. 's about what they want."

"Fuck what they want," you groan, looking away, and then a few tears slip down your face. "Fuck what they do with us. If I die for them, they only tick some fucking statistic. It means nothing. So why can't I do what I want with the time I get before...before I'm just...before I'm nothing again?"

And there it is. The mirror you hold up. The common ground. The level playing field. The two paths that cross, this is it, I have it, I have it, I fucking have it, I have him, he's mine--

He kisses you. You don't get to see his face, but his lips are there, a precious amount of skin that you're blessed with seeing until your eyes are closing.

His bed is warm. He fills it well, the breadth of him almost too much for its size, but it doesn't matter because he fucks so well. He eats your cunt because he's hungry, your thighs on his shoulders shaking as he laps at your wet folds.

He does this different. John is soft and slow, Kyle takes his time, and Johnny is always eager and sloppy. But Ghost watches. He slides his tongue in soft motions, watching, and when your thighs twitch and shake, he does the motion again. He flattens his tongue and drags it, and when you whine and arch your back, he revels in the way you move. He drinks what you spill, he fucks you with his tongue, and this is different because this isn't just attraction.

There is something about him. Something underneath the layers he covers himself with, under the mask, something that you can see that others cannot even though he doesn't take those layers off.

You know this is true when he's inside of you. His mask hasn't come off, but his mouth is on your ear, and he groans, and he talks, and you feel like he spoils you this way. Ghost never talks. You wonder often if maybe he has a limited amount of words, and he never says more than he has to lest he runs out of them. His eyes speak, and it's more than enough, but now, he talks, and it is a gift, and now you know.

He cradles your head as he fucks you, and he kisses you until you can't breathe, and then when he talks, it takes everything in you not to beg for more.

"Such a nice cunt...'s so nice..."

"Fuck--y'feel me, luv? Right there--" And he presses his palm down on your stomach, and you cry when he grabs your face and forces you to look at him, because he's cruel and he's mean, but his cock feels so good--

And you think it can't get better, and you think he can't go any deeper, and then your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and he's leaning over you, and you think you're forgetting your name.

You forget yourself. You forget the reason you're here. It's so hard to think when you're not yourself, when your mind is in the stars, when everything feels far away and so close all at the same time. There is a place for him inside of you now, and you know that even though he will ruin you, even though he already has, you will never be rid of him.

You've severed the bond. You've made your own.

When he kisses you again, and when he grinds his hips down so nice that your clit aches, you know suddenly what it feels like to have real control. The feeling that Laswell chases, the feeling she wants so fucking badly that she's made your body a weapon, your cunt a tool, your brain the hivemind that will make her every wish come true, you understand now.

You will make the sky blue, the birds sing, but you did not realize the power you held until you had Simon "Ghost" Riley buried so deep in you, that you aren't sure you're even really here anymore.

You gnaw on his arm, your tongue tracing the tattoos there. You taste sweat, and you swallow it, and you go numb thinking about having more of him inside of you. You want to bite and eat and take as much of him that he will let you--no.

You will bite and eat and take as much of him that you want, because he's yours, and you get whatever you want.

Your fingers grasp the cotton of his mask, and your grip is enough to pull his lips off of you, and when your eyes meet, the gaze is different. He's desperate. For once, there is something disorderly there, and he pants, and he wants something from you, and finally you have something to give him.

You fuck it out of him. You lay him on his back and let him look at you, and you fuck him because it feels good, because you want it, too, because it's all that matters. You cry into his mouth, sob, "please--! please, please, please--"

And he tugs on your hair in response, guiding your hips as he loses his composure, "'ve got you...y'r mine...'s olright, yeah--nggghhh, fuck, luv, th's it..."

You do want it. You do need it. You need them, but you want Ghost the most, because he is the piece that does not move. He is not willing to do anything except for the sake of his pack. Ghost is impenetrable, even your pretty cunt isn't enough to change his mind, but that isn't what this is.

This is mercy. Ghost, he is the product of all of his misery. You, you are the result of every man to ever betray you, the outcome of your unwavering desire for revenge. You are the same, somehow, and he knows this, and that is why can't help himself. That is why Ghost is underneath you, that is why he bares his mouth to you and lets you lick into it and allows you to taste the forbidden fruit.

Because he thinks you are him, and he thinks you think so, too, and all he's ever wanted in his life is just for someone to see him the way he saw himself.

When he comes, he paints your cunt and fills you, and you collapse, your body on fire as you come down from a high that takes your breath away. His big hands cradle you against his chest, and you don't move, too afraid to let go, and he kisses your face when you whimper. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and when he pulls out, you gather it up on your fingers and suck. He groans, and he kisses you, and then he sinks back to his knees because he doesn't hear the ringing in his ears when his mouth is on your pretty pussy.

You're just a lamb, it's all you are. Handpicked by Laswell to head into the lion's den, a scarred animal that has no one to protect her, straight to slaughter.

He knows what it feels like. He knows what it feels like to be used and forgotten, to have nowhere to go, to be backed into a corner with no way out, and he pities you.

Ghost pities you because there is nothing behind your eyes except fear. But it's a lie. You're so good at it now. It's a lie, and you tell it so well, and you're warm inside. Not from taking the last moving piece, but from the satisfaction of knowing you have done what others cannot. What others never could.

It's late when you finally settle beside him. He leaves you when you ask for something to eat. You watch him slip clothes on haphazardly and leave, the door swinging shut behind him as he shuffles to get what you need.

To provide. To protect. To shield. Ghost is good at those things, you knew he would be. A man does not nurse a brother back to health without it, does not protect his mother and defy his father without being good at being a dog.

He's a good guard dog. And when he goes, and the door is closed, you smile because the dog is mine, all fucking mine--

You reach for your phone, and you pull up the only contact in it. You type a simple message, and then you send it, and for good measure, you shut the device off, tossing it into the pile of your discarded clothes.

>> we have joy.

You are good at pretending. You can tell a lie without blinking. You have been taught to be this thing, and you do it well, because you are a soldier, and this is your mission, and you cannot fail, and you didn't fail.

When you see Laswell again, many weeks later, she is not surprised to see you covering up with long sleeves and keeping your hair down. One tug on the collar of your shirt, and she gets glimpses of the love bites that have marked bruises all across your skin. She lets you go, tells you to sit, and she smirks.

You smile back this time.

Men are fickle. And they fucking deserve this.

"Good girl," she takes out another manila folder, but it's different this time. When you open it, you have schedules of upcoming ops, intel the boys are working, evidence of their reckless abandonment of order in favor of the chaotic success of getting the job done. You have seen this first hand, you know what they do and how they do it. But now there is another factor, another subject, right in the middle of it all. It is you.

Laswell takes a seat, spreading out the papers, and you meet her eyes. This time it's different. This is the truth, and you want to feel bad for your betrayal, but you don't. The fact of the matter is that you and Laswell, together in this room, have more power at your feet than you know what to do with.

A lamb to slaughter, and yet you sleep with the wolves.

"Alright," she says. "Now let's get to fucking work."

[httpknjoon]

mister cute guy with the white jacket | myg

plot | that one time popstar yn surprised everyone by inviting her live band's bass guitarist with her on stage for a performance.

w.c | 2323

pairing | bass guitarist! yoongi x popstar! reader

genre | fluff (?), enemies to lovers

main masterlist

DAY 32 of Love Is... On Tour

"Please wear this tonight."

The tour's wardrobe supervisor knocks on Yoongi's hotel room door. Almost instantly, when he opens the door, he is handed a white denim jacket with a customized design on the back, bedazzling with rhinestones. It shows his initials in the middle of what seems to be an arrowed heart.

"Oh, is it a new outfit or something?" he asked since the live band members already had their two sets of costumes that fit the aesthetic of your tour.

Instead of answering, Paul pulled down his dark shades and looked at Yoongi in an are-you-seriously-asking-me-that mode. But Yoongi's expression didn't change. He still has the same unaware look that tells your tour's wardrobe supervisor that he still hasn't got the memo.

"You didn't hear the news?" Paul asked him.

"What news?" Yoongi replied, scratching the back of his head.

The corners of Paul's lips pulled up like he was suddenly excited. But he bit it off before it even turns into a full smile. Yoongi squints his eyes at this. Why is he trying not to smile? What was the news?

"You should talk to Cal before the rehearsals."

They were on their way to the arena for the soundcheck for tonight's concert, Yoongi had the jacket folded in his arm, when Fred, their drummer, took notice of it.

"That's a nice jacket you got there," he said, scanning it.

"You didn't get one?" Yoongi asked, getting more confused.

Fred shook his head and asked the others if they had their own jacket. But everyone said no and went back to doing what they were doing.

Arriving at the arena, other live band members began warming up their instruments on stage while Yoongi immediately searched for your personal assistant. He just needs to know why he is getting a jacket because he also learned the other members were not.

It is a little strange because he surely is not your favorite person here to make Cal get him a customized piece of clothing. Ever since he got abruptly signed up for this tour, you two barely had any interaction without having petty disagreements or bickering over little things. You two just see things differently, it's obvious to everyone. But Yoongi needed the gig and you needed a new band after your last one suddenly left. So you two still work together, just more civil with each other.

"Hey, Yoongi." Art, the tour manager, was the first person who greeted him when he got backstage to search for Cal.

"Hi, Art. Have you seen Cal?"

The older guy looked around behind him, "I think I saw her in the catering area— By the way, tell the guys to eat before soundcheck,"

Yoongi nods his head, "Okay, thanks."

He walked forward, looking for that area. After passing by three dressing rooms, he finally spotted your assistant lined up to get food presumably for you and herself since she had two plates on both of her hands. He walked up to her side.

"Hey, Cal. Can I ask you about something?"

"If it's a yes or no question, sure. If it's a long conversation, wait for me after I feed YN," she replied, before turning to the catering staff to tell them your specific menu.

"Okay, is— Why do you have to feed her? I'm sure she can—"

"Oh, cut it off. YN's been feeling under the weather since last night and she needs to take a rest. She's not eating anything but I need to make her so she has energy for later." Cal is quick to cut Yoongi's pettiness, sounding like your mother for a moment. "What's the question."

Yoongi, who feels a little guilty now, cleared his throat before asking, "Is this jacket mine?"

"Yes," Cal replied before walking after getting your food.

He followed next to her as she walked back to where you were resting.

"Why do I get one?"

"Because she wants you to wear it for tonight."

"And why?" Yoongi asked again since he feels like he is not really getting a more helpful answer to his concern.

Cal stopped in front of your dressing room, where your name was printed on a piece of paper that was taped on the door. She looked really busy and hurried.

"Lemme just take care of YN quickly. Then, I promise I'll talk to you in an hour." she sighed. "Now, can you open the door for me first and then come look for me here after soundcheck?"

Although dismayed that he didn't get any explanation, Yoongi opened the door for her to let her inside your room and left to do the sound check.

Before the soundcheck began, one of the staff members said that you would not be able to do both the soundcheck and rehearsals today since you were feeling unwell. That's when Yoongi knows that you need to rest badly. Because in almost five weeks of touring, he has already seen you practice with a portable heating pad when you were having cramps or do a soundcheck with a cooling pad stuck on your forehead.

You love performing and being on stage, Yoongi can see it. So he cannot help but wonder how you are right now.

"She picked you for that."

Just like she promised, Cal talked to Yoongi to explain about the jacket before the dance rehearsals. They sat on one of the thousands of empty seats in the arena while the stage was being set up like a dollhouse.

Yoongi sips in his iced coffee, "For what?"

"We asked her if she wanted to do anything special tonight. She said she wants you as her partner for Bed Chem."

What? Yoongi stopped and slowly put down his coffee to look at Cal. What partner? You already have one of your dancers for that. Plus, he had seen that performance every night. Why would you want him there?!

Cal watched as his expression changed from plain to confused to shocked. He was speechless but his head was exploding with loud questions. So before he can say anything, she explains further,

"We thought that it was going to be fun. She wanted to start a small concert surprise tradition, where she would have an unexpected guest to go with her on stage for that song. For now, we thought of doing it one by one with the live band since you guys are earning some fans in the audience too since this tour began."

That's right. Ever since they got this gig weeks ago, every band member's social media following doubled— tripled in Yoongi's case. He was surprised to get a lot of attention online that they occasionally talked about on Twitter and TikTok. He has seen fan cams, which he finds a little weird but flattering at the same time.

"Don't worry, there will be a rehearsal for it later. Someone will tell you what to do and one of the dancers will stand in for YN. So you will know where to stand and all." Cal added.

Yoongi was silent, staring at the stage in the distance. He chewed on his lower lip, contemplating if he should do it.

"But if you don't want to do it, it's o—"

"I'll do it."

As soon as he agreed to do it, Yoongi joined the rehearsal for the Bed Chem performance. He rolled his eyes to his band members who came to eat their lunch while watching him on stage. Of course, they find it funny knowing that you two don't really get along.

"Is he going to dance?" Noah, their lead guitarist, asked for fun.

Seeing how terrified Yoongi was by that idea, the choreographer immediately denied it and just directed him to his points and what to do. To conclude it, Yoongi can just say that it has a lot of touching.

Next thing he knows, people are filling up the empty seats in the arena and Yoongi is putting on his white jacket before getting on stage. Yoongi still hasn't seen you all day. He heard from two staff members that you were mostly asleep in your bed all day and only got up to get ready for tonight.

"How are we doing, Chicago!"

Yoongi watched you from behind while you greeted everyone on the center stage after your first two songs. You were just as lively as your normal state, totally opposite from what he was told earlier today.

"I was in a sheer dress the day that we met..."

Six songs into the concert, the song he had been dreading waiting for began playing. You were on the bed where the performance would take place. You are now wearing a pastel pink sheer babydoll dress over your sparkling bodysuit, with a glittery garter strap on each thigh.

Fans sing along with you while Yoongi continues playing with the band. He tried to stay focused and not feel nervous about what was about to happen. His stomach is twisting and all he can do is to play the right chords in his guitar. But the feelings heightened even more when he was quickly shown on screens when you sang the lines:

"Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent? Like ooh..."

Considering that this is the first time happening on the tour, the audience was surprised at first. Screaming. The, they were curious why did the camera swiftly focused on him. Then they resumed one vibing and singing along until...

"Who's the cute guy with the bass guitar and the big bad mm? Like ooh..."

Your fans squealed as soon as they realized that you changed certain words in the song lyrics, obviously pertaining to your bass guitarist, Yoongi. Then, you were walking out of the curtains around the bed.

It's hard to act like he doesn't notice you when there's a spotlight following you in every part of the stage you walk on. Yoongi tries to focus on playing his bass guitar but he can feel you walking in his direction. The cheers got louder. Yoongi doesn't like how warm he feels at the moment. You just did a few walks in front of the band before you went back on the large bed on the stage to do your choreography with your dancers.

"And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time, and I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine, and I bet it's even better than in my head..."

Just a few lines before the last chorus, the bit they rehearsed for began. Your dancers ran to him like they were encouraging him to go to where you are, on the bed.

"How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things, that's bed chem..."

Then, they pulled him with them on the edge of the bed. They leave him alone just in front of the curtains. At this point, the audience was truly engaged and loud.

"Are you free next week? I bet we'd have really good-"

That's his cue. Ignoring the heavy thumps in his chest, he slipped slowly between the curtains. He is on his knees as he gets closer to you while you look directly at him singing the last runs for the song.

Ha (make me go), ha And I know Ha (make me go), ha And I know

Your vocals play in the background while you two begin acting your little bit. Just like what he rehearsed with one of the dancers earlier, you ran your fingers in his damp, jet-black hair. Your index finger then traced down to his next and played with his silver necklace. You two simply look at each other deeply, aware of the fact that the temperature is indeed getting higher.

Fuck, it's too hot in here, Yoongi thought. And you look so good under this red light they put you two into. He mindlessly tucked a few hair strands covering your face behind your eyes. Although it's not in the bit you were told, you just let him. It's fine, it's just hair.

Ha (make me go), ha And I know Ha (make me go), ha Ooh, oh, baby

Just when Yoongi began removing his guitar strap, the curtains began closing. The fans went crazier. With only your silhouette seen from the outside, you lay on your back while he began removing his jacket. The instrumental is slowly fading out. And when he's about to be on top of you, the lights dimmed down.

Behind the curtains, you lay under him. Both his hands were on each side next to your head. The lights were already down but you two can still see each other, the fans' cheers are still dying down on the background.

"How are you?" he asked, breaking off this strange tension between you two. His deep voice didn't help the tightening feeling blooming in your chest.

"Hmm?" you simply hummed, not really knowing what he's talking about.

"Cal said you're not feeling great this morning." he explained.

No one's really doing anything. You're still under him and he's still on top of you. And you are not really annoyed by it.

"Oh, uhm, feeling better now, I don't know, maybe because of the adne—"

"143 seconds left. Get ready for costume change. Kim's waiting outside the curtains."

A voice in your in-ear monitor made you pause. Suddenly, you snapped out of it. You remember there was a concert going on and the stage manager was waiting for you to get you backstage.

"O-kay. Costume change. I need to go."

Yoongi backed up as you quickly got up, leaving him alone. Still in the dark, on his knees, his mind went blank for a second.

What the fuck was that?

He shook his head, snapping out of it, before picking up his guitar and going back to his original place.

note | first yoongi fic after so many years! how was it? thank you so much for reading 🤍

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

[moonstruckme]

hello mae ! could i ask for an apple pie with any of the marauders with these prompts?

“a flea market wedding dress” & “hands stained with pen ink”

it would also be alright if it’s just the first one if ever you don’t feel like writing with two of them in mind !

- 🧸 (i always forget to sign off with this 😭)

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: some non-sexual nudity (it's hardly mentioned only really implied)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 749 words

“Do we need eggs?” Remus asks from the other room. 

“I don’t think so.” You zip the dress up in the back, relishing in the smooth feel of the fabric on your skin. It fits like it was made for you. “I’m not feeling very eggy lately. Our last ones went bad.” You smile at yourself in the mirror, going to show Remus.

“It just feels strange not to have eggs…” he trails off as you come into view. It’s not your appearance that surprises him—you’ve been showing off your finds from the flea market since you got home—but the dress itself. “That’s pretty.” He sounds a tad breathless. “It’s, um. It’s white.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, “it was someone’s wedding dress, once. Isn’t it nice?” You give him a little twirl. “I think if I take out some of the layers in the skirt it could be cute for summer. Very flowy.” 

“Very.” Remus caps the pen he was using for your grocery list, amusement coloring his tone. “You look lovely in it, dove. You know everyone will think we’re getting married when you wear it out, though, don’t you?” 

“With the way you dress?” You grin. It worsens when he stands, coming over to you with a grin of his own. “Doesn’t seem likely.” 

“My jumpers are very dapper,” he says, smiling into a kiss. 

You hum noncommittally, and he gives your middle a playful warning squeeze. A quick peck to your lips, then another, longer and sweeter. You set your hands on his chest, feeling the soft material of the jumper he’s wearing now. 

“I don’t know,” you tease, looking down at your contrasting outfits. “I think—oh, Remus!” 

You move away from him, but the damage is done. Two smudges of ink remain on your dress where his fingertips were. 

Remus is quick to follow your gaze. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say, even as your heart sinks. 

“No, dovey, I’m so sorry.” He looks like he wants to reach for you again, but he looks at his hands and swears instead. “I can—wait one second.” 

He goes back around the counter, and you hear the sink running. 

“Really,” you say, “it’s fine. It was only a few quid.” 

“No, but you were excited about it. I think I can get it out.” 

“It’s ink, Rem, it’s…” 

You trail off as he comes back around the corner, soapy dish sponge in hand, and presses it to your dress. 

“What…” You move your arm out of the way. Remus settles a hand on your hip, holding the both of you steady as he bends closer to your waist. He swipes the sponge over the fabric with a concentrated furrow between his brows. “Are…are you washing me?” 

“I’m getting the stain out.” 

“I don’t think soap is going to do it, honey.” 

The look your boyfriend casts up at you is equal parts loving and exasperated. “It usually works for me. This isn’t my first time getting ink on clothes.” 

That, you can believe. The writing in Remus’ notebooks is always smeared, the culprit to be found in his inky hands. Sometimes you swear he gets black and blue stains up to his elbows. You’ve no clue how he manages it.

“Now we only need to put baking soda on it, and it should come out.” He gives your dress one last good scrub with the sponge.

“Right,” you say hesitantly. “So should I just lie down for that, or…” 

“I probably should have had you take it off first,” Remus admits. “I panicked, a little bit.” 

You laugh. He looks relieved to hear it, some of the guilt easing from his expression. “That’s my fault, I guess.” You unzip the back of your dress, trying to step out of it without disturbing the stain. 

“No, I think it’s all still mine,” Remus says, but he takes it from you.

Once he’s done arranging it in the sink and piling it with baking soda, he comes back to you, slotting a hand behind your ear and letting his fingers slip into your hair. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses you. 

You roll your eyes. He knows you can’t be cross at him when he does that. 

“You just didn’t want me to be better dressed than you,” you say, though there’s nothing but fondness to be found in your tone. 

“You’re always better dressed. As you’ve said, the bar isn’t high.” 

“Oh, shut up. You know I like your jumpers just fine.”

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"What do you think of my outfit?"

Preview: How will the boys react to you wearing a revealing outfit? (and yes, I figured Sylus should be included too :))

Warning: TEASING, SLIGHT SMEXY SCENES!

SYLUS

"What do I think of that?" He gestured towards your skin tight dress that works really well in accentuating your curves. You, usually wrapped in comfortable and baggy clothes, had managed to go all out and reminding Sylus of the body you had always have under those loose clothings of yours. It is a date night in a fancy restaurant for a fancy event so you thought it was only right to play dress up. You had purchased this dress online as Sylus has been home for the past few days and going out alone would be too suspicious for someone as sharp eyed for him so getting it online is your best option. But, you certainly did not expect the outfit to fit too well, judging by the way your lover's eyes seemed to gleamed a darker shade of amber. "It's befitting for someone like you that's for sure."

When he was asked whether he is more than willing to let you wear more of these outfits in the near future, the man got up from his comfortable lounging seat, setting his gun aside onto the coffee table and he chuckled darkly as he sauntered over to you, pinning you against the wall in the process. "As long as you bear my marks, I am not worried about competition baby." He growled slightly as he leaned down and started groping you through your dress. His touch set off torrents of fire across your body, your undulating breaths quickening by every passing second. Moans of excitement raying from your mouth further edging him on to just rip the dress immediately off of you right this moment.

ZAYNE

Zayne would just sigh when he sees you clad in that skin-tight dress, twirling in front of him in excitement. He would lower his glasses and panned quietly at you, pinching on the slight bump of his nose when he tries to figure out what to tell you. "I would admit that you look good in any outfit. Including what I am seeing now." His compliment does come off to be quite half-arsed as he was not quite happy with the dress not leaving one with much imagination. Given this man would go the lengths of researching on 'how to be nice to the partner', he is not known for voicing out his repines. Hence, instead of being upfront, he would present a snappy remark in return. "But, do not come to me if you end up having a cold."

"If anyone tries to hit on you," the doctor has his slender fingers gripping onto his chin, eyebrows sewn together as he thought of a reaction towards the eidetic scenario. "I will tell them off only if you need me to." You were definitely shocked at his response, partially unsatisfied until he adds on, his confidence coming through immediately. "That's because we both know that, it will only be me that could heal you." He smirked, placing his glasses back onto the table and he turned his chair, now directly facing you. It only took two fingers for him to beckon you over and you became obsequious, prancing towards him and seating yourself onto his thighs. His hand coming to place onto your inner thigh, thumb rubbing softly over your sensitive skin. "Now, let me heal your cold first."

XAVIER

The blond man had blinked multiple times, looking at your outfit, more like staring. If he is in any cartoon shows right now, he would be drooling, with a cloud forming on top of his head, imagining how he could put your body to good use in that tight outfit of yours. It would be a 18+ cartoon for sure at this point. "You look stunning in that dress." His tone sounded...hesitant? He would try to shift his gaze to not make you uncomfortable, but let's be honest, who would not like to be stared at, especially by someone like Xavier? He had never been the type to judge you based on your styles. He finds most of it adorable on you, if not befitting. But this, this tight fitting outfit is fresh territory for him.

"This outfit does not suit you y/n." He does not hesitate one bit when your next question followed, asking him of his opinion what if someone else were to approach you when you are outside wearing this apparel. His answer is avoiding the question, only to mask his jealousy. When you ask for a more valid answer from him, he would simply take off the hoodie he currently has on and tosses it, aimed right at your face so it falls right onto your head. "You should put that on so that the others won't get to you before I do." A slight growl bubbled at the back of his throat when he careened over to you. The next sensation you felt was being pushed up against the wall, ready to be devoured.

RAFAYEL

A pout. The same pout he gives whenever he is frustrated at you. Now, he wears it when he catches sight of you in that bodycon dress. It was gifted to him by one of his sponsors to congratulate him for the announcement of his muse, aka you. He took it with the image of you wearing it but damn, he had never figured that it fit you like a snuck glove. If he was not pouting, he would have been the one drooling over you. But Rafayel, is a man of standards. "The brand seems to dote on you by picking this outfit for you." He then turned around and got onto his phone, pressing his phone against his ear.

You assumed it was Thomas judging by how Rafayel was frowning through his tone. "List out the brand that gave y/n the bodycon dress from now on. They are trying to get my girl stolen from me." Your lips are pressed together tightly when you witnessed Rafayel 'burning the brand deals just for you', all for the sake of covering up his jealousy. "Now, you are only allowed to wear this whenever you are around me alright?" He is quick to walk back over to your side, slipping his arm effortlessly around your waist and planting a chaste kiss to your lips. "Because a shining star like you only deserves a spot next to me."

[dilfl0v3rss]

restriction

“why you keep playin’ wit me ma?” your hands were held behind your back as ony pounded into you. ass clapping onto his stomach each time he pulled back from penetrating your g spot. you believed you absolutely did NOT deserve this treatment and no matter how much you wanted to scream out to him, you will not be giving your boyfriend the satisfaction of seeing you break. as you continued to defy him, you thought about what got you here in the first place…

papa🫶🏽

‘you got two minutes to get in this car or im da leaving you home’

you roll your eyes at onyankopon’s impatience. how he gon offer to take you to the mall then complain about how long you were taking to get ready? if you knew this was how he was going to act you would’ve declined without hesitation. you were just finishing putting lotion on your body after leaving the shower when you got the text so you decided to just threw on a sundress, cropped jean jacket, and slides so you don’t get left. you had recently gotten a silk press so it made the most sense to just quickly throw your hair up in a ponytail before jetting out of the house.

ony admired you from the drivers seat, licking his lips while staring you up and down. he looked like he wanted to eat you. truth is, he loved seeing you without makeup. the lipgloss and lashes combo always making him so weak, but rest assured he still felt you looked beautiful either way regardless if you had a full face or not. the attitude that was bubbling in you was quickly diminished when you were greeted with his large hand on your neck and a slow kiss on the lips. “ooouuu you look so good mama” ony said as he started playing with your ponytail. he loved how natural you looked. your beautiful skin and hair was making him want to drop all of his plans a take you right now in the driveway. “thank you boo now let’s gooooo” you smiled as ony pulled out and started his journey to the mall.

right when you walked into your first store you realized that you were in such a rush because of ony that you forgot to put on some panties. fear instantly rushed through you as you skimmed through the clothes on the rack, looking behind you to see your boyfriend scrolling through his phone. “you need any help with anything?” you whip your head around to the employee who snatched you from your thought. she was offering her assistance on a dress you were eyeing.

as you spoke to her about sizes you can almost sence your boyfriends stare. being the protective man that he was, ony walked up behind you to listen to what was going on. “yea they’ll both fit but i think this one would fit a little tighter and will help really show off your figure.” the employee said as she pointed to the smaller black dress in your left hand. she insisted that you try them both on anyways to see your yourself.

the fear that was instilled in you was forgotten as you mindlessly walked towards the fitting rooms. your slides clapping onto the floor as you moved. your man loved the way you walked, but he absolutely hated when you dragged your feet like this. the clapping sound so loud in the store making him lift his head from his phone to complain. that was until he realized that something was off about your dress.

your ass always moved when you walked and since you wore thongs often it could be easy to assume that you weren’t wearing underwear when you actually were. but that assumption is always easily debunked when your boyfriend could grab your waist and feel your panties sitting nicely on your hips, so instead of jumping to conclusions he decided that he’d try that first.

“gimme a kiss ‘fore you go in there” ony says with a fake smile as you hang the dresses up on the hook connected to the door. you absentmindedly turn around to give your boyfriend a kiss, mistaking his uncertainty for his regular clingy attitude. as he massaged your hips ony instantly got the answer he was dreading. you had no fucking panties on. it was never really an issue when panties were discarded with other clothes like pajama pants or some baggy sweatpants, but when it came to dresses he always preferred you to wear them. especially since you gave him shit for free balling with sweats so he felt that the least you could do was keep the same energy.

you turned back around to walk into the dressing room when your movements are halted by ony’s hand around your wrist. “you got panties on?” your eyes slightly widened as your memory returned to you. scared shitless that if ony was even the slightest bit suspicious with your answer he’d embarrass you. “mhm” before you can say anything else, you are lightly pushing into the small room, your boyfriend towering over you as he stood in front of the now closed door. “aight lemme see then.” you were done for…

and now you’re here. getting your guts rearranged from behind as your angry boyfriend held your wrists in his hand. “why you keep playin’ wit me ma?” you couldn’t even reply with how deep into you he was hitting. all excuses that were attempted quickly shot down with even harder thrusts. “and don’t blame me again cause puttin’ panties on only take like two seconds” it’s not like you purposely ignored putting on your underwear. you really were in such a hurry that they were forgotten, but ony wasn’t hearing none of that as he picked up his pace, feeding you all eight inches of his dick.

“da-daddyyyy im finna cu-ummm” he didn’t let up one bit as he kept on punishing your pussy. slapping you on the ass with his free hand before sliding it up your back. he gripped the back of your neck. “hold. that. shit.” each word was matched with a hard thrust as your arch deepened. you did as you were told, holding in that release while your pussy clenched around ony’s dick. you were so tight that it was getting harder for him to move around and that irritated him. he competed with your defiance with hard thrusts. “open that shit up ‘fore i really get mad”

“but i c-cant t-take it daddyyy” you whined as you tried to slowly crawl away from him. doing your best to take some of his inches out without the help of your arms. ony immediately caught on and put your other wrist in his free hand. yanking you upward as he thrusted into you so hard you screamed. he pounded into you at a quick pace, head slightly turning to see your tears drip from your face to the sheets. “you gon’ take all dis dick. i don’t give a damn if you pass out. you done when daddy say you done.” you were being absolutely destroyed right now.

your release was getting harder and harder to subdue at this new angle, but you knew if you didn’t hold it now you’d get done much worse later. this was easier said than done though since ony was deciding to whisper dirty words in your ear, hoping you’d defy him again so he can fix you. “shit so wet baby i’m starting to think you actually like pissing me off just so you can get fucked like a slut.” you grew wetter at your boyfriends words, trying your hardest to calm the tight coil in your stomach. ony knew you felt like you didn’t deserve this and he kinda agrees. he wasn’t even really mad that you weren’t wearing panties he was just mad because when he asked you about it you decided i’d be better to lie than come clean. then when you were caught you couldn’t even take responsibility and immediately pushed the blame to him.

“papa please i can’t take itttt” you whine, pulling ony out of his thoughts. he abruptly released your arms, letting you fall to the bed and fix your positioning. during this he kept stroking you roughly. if you weren’t going to say sorry on your own he was just going make you say sorry. ony licked up your back, not stopping until he reached behind your ear. he put both of his hands on the bed near each side of your head, leaning down so he can whisper dirty promises to you. you were ready to burst when you felt his wet tongue dance up your skin. ony knew it would make you weak, deciding to continue by licking and sucking on the back and sides of your neck.

“you like that? yea you do mama, i can feel you squeezin’ me” he was breaking you down. the strong defiance you once had was getting fucked right out of you and there was nothing you can do to stop it. well nothing you can do but apologize. “tell daddy you sorry mama. y’know ion play that shit” his deep voice sent shivers down your spine as he continued to stroke you to perfection. your walls fluttered around his thick dick as you felt your release begin to approach. “please pa it’s too much….m’gonna cummm” you ignored what he said, hoping he’d just let you cum. your whines fell on deaf ears as ony kept pounding into you, his plump brown lips kissing and licking all over your shoulder and neck as he waited for you to say what he wanted to hear.

your release was on the tip of your tongue now, the veins on his dick rubbing you perfectly as you began to try to fuck yourself back on him. every time you did this ony knew you were on the brink of a hard orgasm, the slick from your pussy only increasing as your g spot only needed a few more touches for you to reach heaven. a small smirk grew on your man’s face as he began stroking you so hard you saw stars. you were really being a brat today which he didn’t have the time for. if you really weren’t going to say sorry this way then he was going to use an even better punishment for you. your mouth opening in a silent scream as you gripped the sheets as tight as you can. the feeling of your sensitive clit rubbing the sheets as well as your entrance being fed deep strokes made your pretty brown eyes roll. your release was right there, on the tip of your tongue and all you needed was a little more to reach your end, but then it was gone…

ony stilled right inside of you, his heavy breathing chest making the both of your bodies move as you felt him shoot his thick ropes of cum into you “fuckkk mama….so tight” he groaned, rubbing his orgasm in your face before giving you a few more strokes and pulling out. a loud whine flew from your throat as you quickly reached behind you for his arm, trying and failing to get him to enter back inside of you. “daddy waittt m’so close” ony did nothing but laugh, getting off the bed before going towards the bathroom to run himself a shower.

“if you can’t apologize then i can’t fuck you. ima give you two weeks to get it together before i fuck you again”

[hsunrry]

assistant // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request, since a lot of you are obsessed with assistant concept! (me too lol)

|| masterlist ||

words: ~2k

tropes: assistant y/n x harry

warnings: smut18+, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“hey, are you busy?” he peeked his head into your office. you were his assistant for almost half a year now and you were doing good, great even. you looked up from your laptop.

“no, what’s up?” you smiled softly. he walked inside and he settled himself on the chair in front of your desk. the way he looked made your knees go weak instantly.

“i was wondering if you could do me a favor.” you nodded, so he could continue. he was fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. “i, uh… i wanted to ask you to pick an outfit for me to wear for tonight, y’know.” he smiled sweetly. “you’re always picking something nice for me and… yeah i was wondering if we could go to my house and pick something.”

“okay, sure.” you said, closing your laptop and standing up. he stood up as well, opening the doors for you. you could feel his eyes lingering on your ass, but decided to not comment on it. the way to his house was quick and calm. you both immediately went from his car inside and to his bedroom. he opened the doors to his wardrobe and you went inside.

“i was thinking about something with this pants.” he grabbed and showed you navy blue pants with very thin white stripes. you nodded and started looking through his clothes. you picked very light blue buttoned shirt, also with thin stripes, and sleeveless sweater with sheep all over it. he took it from you with a smile. “i knew i could count on you, love.” he grinned. “i’ll change and show you.” he quickly went to dressing room he had in wardrobe and after few minutes he walked out in final fit. “how do i look?”

“good, but…” you went to him to roll up his sleeves. “yes, that’s better.” he looked at himself in the mirror, turning around to look at his back as well. he seem very satisfied with this outfit. when he finally looked back at you, he catch you smiling at him. he walked over to you and stopped right in front of you, causing your head tilt back slightly to look at him. he was just staring for few seconds before he cupped your cheek.

“do you like me in this outfit?” you were a little taken aback at his hand on your cheek and how bold he was being right now.

“i mean, y-yeah, of course.” you swallowed quietly. he noticed you were a bit flustered, so he obviously had to tease you even more.

“you know, you’re really cute, darling.” he loved the effect he had on you, his pants getting already tighter.

“thanks?” you smiled softly, feeling your cheeks flushing a little because of his comment.

“are you blushing?” he grinned, caressing your cheek with his thumb. he looked at you up and down, clearly undressing you with his eyes.

“i just-“ you started, clearing your throat. you pulled back from him and his touch. “i’m sorry.” he loved how you were being so shy and vulnerable in this situation. he wanted to just take you right here and right now, but he knew he had to make sure you were into it just like him. “maybe i should just head back to my office.” he chuckled at your words, shaking his head.

“stay, i’m not done with you yet.” he took few steps closer to you, tilting your chin up so you could look up at him. at this point you were both standing in his bedroom instead of wardrobe. “you’re not leaving until i say so, alright love?” you just nodded at his words. you were so responsive to him it was driving him mad. “that’s a good girl.” he praised you. “you’re so sweet i could just eat you.” he said while looking down at you with a smile.

“what?” you looked up into his eyes confused.

“i said, that i could just eat you right now.” his smile got wider. his free hand went on your waist to keep you in place. you were thinking about one thing only right now: how wet you were just from his small touches and words. you were never that aroused in your life before. he could see how you were looking up at him with ‘fuck me’ eyes, causing his pants to get even tighter than before. he squeezed your waist slightly, looking down at your lips.

“i’m your assistant Harry.” you whispered.

“i’m aware.” his eyes never left your lips, he just wanted to kiss you right here and there. he looked back into your eyes. “why aren’t you pushing me away then? you could just tell me to back off and go back to your office, but you’re not doing that, hm?”

“i’m not.” your voice quiet. he pulled you closer to him.

“see, that’s why you want it too.” he leaned closer to your lips. “admit it.” when you nodded his smile returned. “such a good girl.” he praised you again, clearly enjoying how much power he had over you, having you so desperate and willing to be good for him. “you’ve been driving me crazy for the past few months.” he admitted, his hand going up and down your waist.

“really?” you asked. your innocence making him smile even wider.

“you have no idea.” his lips almost touching yours, you could feel how his breath was tickling you. “i need to know if you want it too.” he whispered. you swallowed quietly, reaching for his hand. you placed it under your dress, on your already drenched panties. you wanted to show him the effect he had on you. he let out a low, almost feral growl when he felt how wet you were for him, that you were practically dripping. “oh god.” he gasped, moving his fingers slowly over your covered core. you licked your lips slightly, his eyes watching closely how your tongue darted over them and he couldn’t take it anymore. his closed the gap between you two, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. he let out a soft huff when he felt you kissing him back, his hand gripping the nape of your neck. he started going backwards and pulling you with him. his legs hit the back of the bed and he sat down, making you straddle his lap. he broke the kiss, so he could start leaving a trial of wet kisses on your neck. he let out quiet groan, when he felt you tilting your head to the side to give him better access. you started moving your hips on him, feeling his hardness under you. he started sucking and nibbling on your neck, already losing it due your hips movement. “good girl, keep going that.” he mumbled into your skin between kisses. he quickly took off your dress, looking at your half-naked body. he groaned at the sight of your laced set that was leaving little to imagination. for him you looked like some kind of goddess sitting astride his lap like that. “you look…” he licked his lips as he looked at your face again. “so, so good like that, you’re so pretty, angel.” you smiled at his words, his hand cupping your cheek again. “you’re driving me insane.” his eyes filled with hunger and lust. you gripped the hem of sleeveless sweater, quickly taking it off and tossing it somewhere on the floor, where your dress probably already were. your hands quickly started working to unbutton his shirt, leaving him only in pants and boxers underneath them. fabric was visibly stretched over his bulge, ready to just be free already. he reached for the clasp of your bra, undoing it quickly and taking it off. he immediately started to kiss your chest and suck on your nipples, making you moan quietly. “you’re so beautiful, you have no idea.” he said between kisses. “i need you so bad right now.”

“i need you too.” you finally spoke, unbuttoning his pants. he could feel himself twitching in his pants at your touch in this area. he picked you up, making you lay on the bed right after that. he took his pants off, leaving himself only in boxers. when he grabbed your panties, he looked at you, searching with his eyes for silent permission. when you smiled he took them off, spreading your thighs and leaning down to your core. he started slowly kissing your folds.

“i’m gonna make you feel so good baby, you’re so perfect for me.” he looked up at you from between your legs, licking you all the way from your hole to your clit. his lips wrapping around bulge of nerves, making you moan louder. he pushed two fingers inside you, moving them slowly and preparing you for him nice and slow. “you taste so good.” he smiled against your pussy. “and you’re so fucking wet for me, i love it.” he gave you one last suck on your clit, withdrawing his fingers and pushing them back with third added.

“oh god.” you clenched around his fingers. he started to move then faster, curling into perfect angle to hit your g-spot.

“that’s right, let me hear you, you sound so pretty for me.” he started kissing your inner thighs. “are you on birth control?” you nodded, not being able to say anything right now. “good, i want to feel all of you. would you let me?” he withdrew his fingers, licking them clean.

“yes.” you watched him taking off his boxers. he positioned himself at your entrance, pressing slightly. “you ready for me, doll?” you nodded, feeling him stretching you open right after.

“fuck.” you gasped. his one hand gripping your hip and the other one going under your back on your shoulder to hold onto you. he started moving slowly, making sure you were comfortable with everything, but when he saw pure pleasure on your face he picked up the pace. he was looking at you, taking your features and trying to memorise this moment. your hand went to cup his cheek. he nuzzled into it, kissing your palm gently. your other hand went to touch his back.

“you feel so good.” he panted. “wrap your legs around me.” you quickly obeyed, giving you both better angle. he was taking the sight of you in his bed, picking up the speed.

“Harry, fuck.” you moaned.

“say my name again, darling. please.” he adjusted slightly, hitting your sweet spot with every move now. your head tilting back from pleasure.

“oh my god, Harry, just like that.” you whined, feeling your orgasm building in your lower stomach.

“i told you i was gonna make you feel good, didn’t i?” he whispered into your ear, gripping your hip tighter to move faster and harder. he started sucking on your neck again, feeling you clench around him. “come for me baby, i can feel you’re close, come on, be a good girl for me.”

“yes, i- oh my god- please.” you gasped.

“god, to think we could’ve been doing this for ages.” he groaned, his movements getting desperate as he was close himself. “you look so beautiful, taking my cock so well, just like that.”

“oh my fucking god!” your whole body arched and shook when you finished, milking his dick with your juices. he groaned, emptying himself deep inside you and nuzzling his face into your neck. he fucked you both through your orgasms, slowing down after few thrusts. he placed little kisses on your neck, feeling you both calming down slowly.

“can i say something cheesy?” he pulled out from your neck to look at you.

“sure.” you chuckled breathlessly.

“i’m falling for you so hard.” he kissed your lips softly.

[heck-theo]

Okokokokok- ignore how rough and messy some of these redraws/sketches are - but it's apparently also dinosaur month?? (WHY did no one ever tell me it's Jurassic June? I love dinosaurs) And like. What if Rise but dinosaurs?!

I don't often post such loose sketches but I wanted to show these off cause I really like some of this.

Design choices and dino species + the reasons I picked them bellow (looking for potential Donnie dino suggestions):

Clothes: Without the shell they really need clothes. They'd all have pretty much the same pants to keep some unity, except maybe Mikey (I decided they should all have the same pants after I finished the Mikey sketches, not sure if I'll keep the shorts or change to pants). Accessories are a mix of pre and post finale.

Raph - I think would keep it simple and practical but would also wear nice jackets and stuff when in casual situations. I need to work on giving him an alternative outfit and tweak his accessories a bit.

Donnie - An oversized pull-over hoodie cause we already know he loves that shit. We see him wearing it all the time. Easy enough. He wears a comfortable singlet underneath so the straps of his battle sail don't rub. Nice soft fabric, tight fit so it doesn't move around, tucks it into his pants, etc. When he wears the battle sail he won't overheat so he can wear hoodies basically all year round.

Leo - He's in one of those shirts with obnoxiously large arm holes and make it cropped cause 1. I think he would 2. I want it to be different from Raph and Donnie's singlets. He usually wears the shoulder strap off his shoulder but pulls it up when he needs to. He has some of the black bandages over his mid drift atm but I might just make his pants super high waisted in the final version. He'd probably wear a bomber jacket (also cropped?) over the top for cool weather, but doesn't like to hide his feathers.

Mikey - I think he'd mostly wear hand me downs when he's younger. He definitely goes through a stage of rebelling and wanting to pick his own and would find a middle ground of appreciating sharing some of his brother's clothes and modifying them, as long as he has the choice of his own available. Not sure if that would be before or after this design. At the moment he's got Raph's old shorts (from a loooong time ago), Leo's old shirt, and Donnie's old zip up hoodie. He does have his own accessories though, including pins instead of stickers.

Dinosaurs: I kept them all as non-avian dinosaurs, AKA not including animals that are colloquially considered dinos but aren't (like pterosaurs). I wanted to keep an even split of herbivore vs carnivore just so one wasn't the odd one out. I wanted to keep most of their body structure, colours and distinguishing features the same as canon. Obviously I added tails cause, yeah, of course haha. I did want them to be recognisable as different species of dino using distinct characteristics that their species is known for. I did ignore a lot of differences though, like size and bipedal vs quadruped (although the quadrupeds might be more likely to go to all fours, especially when fighting or afraid). Leo and Donnie are carnivores so have sharper teeth and claws.

Raph - Some kind of Ceratopsian (likely Triceratops or something very similar) and he was the first idea I had for this and I'm really happy with it. I think it just suits him. Trike Raph just came to me in an unprecedented moment of genius. His spikey frill replicates his spikey shell. His sturdiness, protectiveness and willingness to kick ass when needed, all scream trike to me.

Donnie - Spinosaurus but looking for other species recommendations. More details below: So I wanted to figure out a way for him to have tech with a similar function to his battle shell (in the sense that it's something that helped him in day to day life) and so I went with spino cause one possible theory about a function of spinosaurus' sail is temperature regulation. So his battle sail has heating/cooling systems as well as other tech. A spino's sail was probably not fragile but the battle sail would also help protect it from being targeted during fights or crushed during extreme impacts. It was also thought to be used for display, and what's more of a display than a battle sail? The only problem I have with this is that it's lacking part of what makes Donnie's battle shell so great, which is that it is essentially a prosthetic. Not quite the same as how prosthetics are used in people of course, just in the sense that it is replicating the functionality of a body part that he doesn't have (I can't think of a better word). Well he does have a shell but it doesn't function in the same way that his brothers shells do, which leaves him with less defense than they have, hence a big reason for the battle shell (I hope I explained this well, it was hard to try and word properly). I can't think of a good way to do this with dinos. I was thinking of a carno or something with tiny arms, then Donnie could have tech enhanced arms but I'm pretty much ignoring body structure in the others so it would be weird to have just Donnie be affected by a difference in limb structure/functionality. I was thinking prosthetic tail but every non avian dinosaur had a pretty substantial tail. Except therizinosaurus but even they hade pretty obvious tails. I'm open to suggestions for this one if anyone has ideas. It does have to be an extinct non-avian dinosaur (anything not in Avialae), preferably carnivore but if someone suggests a really good herbivore or omnivore then I can try and swap Mikey for a carnivore. I want there to be an even split. I also wanted to give him something different on his face, like his brothers, and that could only be a little spino crest and it crowds the top of his head but I can't put it anywhere else...

Leo - A type of Dromaeosaur. I was tossing up between this and a dilophosaur where his red stripes were part of the dilo's crest, cause I wasn't sure about giving him feathers. But dilo Leo was so plain compared to the rest and the crests were hard to get looking right so I went back to raptor Leo. I can definitely imagine him literally and metaphorically preening his feathers too. You can't really see it but he does also have that big raptor claw. Raptors were smart, tactical and worked in packs so I think that suits him. I wasn't specifically referencing how some artists draw Leo's stripes coming off his face (I was just trying to replicate his stripes somehow, even though it doesn't make a huge amount of sense) but I realised afterwards that it kinda looks like that and might have been subconsciously inspired by it.

Mikey - Is an Ankylosaur. I'm pretty happy with the species but I need to work out the design of his armour plating so that it looks interesting, cool and protective but isn't too chunky, too pointy or super lumpy looking. I went with an anky cause Mikey is often hiding in his shell and he can't do the same here but he could curl up in a defensive ball. Plus I could imagine him using his tail club in his razzmatazz fighting style. A little like his kusari-fundo or nunchacku/nunchucks (not sure on proper wording).

[hoodoo12]

Sweltering

First and foremost, fuck this heat. I've always preferred colder to warmer, and nowadays the summer is just a hellscape. Therefore, a story.

It's too hot outside, and The Ghost with the Most thinks he has a way to cool you down. NSFW.

It was stupid hot. Inside with no air conditioning was worse, so you were out on the patio in your backyard in nothing more than the thinnest tank top you owned and underwear. You’d brought a fan that was specifically labeled “for indoor use only!” out, plugged in by multiple extension cords that also said to only use them indoors, and had it going full blast right at your body.

You were sweating through what little clothing you had on. Your brain felt melted. The ice cream sandwich you thought would help cool you down did nothing.

Without warning or fanfare, Beetlejuice appeared at your side.

You hadn’t called him. You just never re-said his name after the last time you’d summoned him, and now this was the arrangement. He just came and went how he pleased, like a tom cat. You hoped he didn’t fuck around like an unneutered cat, but you were also realistic. There was never any label to the thing you had with him, although there was something to be said in that he kept returning.

“Jesus! You’re wearing that suit? It’s over 95 degrees out here!” you complained at him. Then you took a lick around the edge of the ice cream, because it was melting faster than your brain.

The ghost looked down over himself.

“Well fuckin' good day to you too,” he grumbled. “And what’s wrong with my suit?”

“I already said it was so damn hot! How can you wear that in this heat?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a dead guy, sweetcheeks. I don’t feel the heat. I don’t feel the cold. It’s all the same to me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, in both disbelief and a titch of jealousy. “Must be nice.”

He shrugged. “I suppose. If you mean not feeling much of anything.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “You don’t feel much of anything? Then why’re you sporting a boner behind your fly?”

Instead of being embarrassed, a reaction that would have surprised you, he rubbed his palm over his crotch as he leered down at you. “My dick’s hard because you’re laying in front of me basically nude, baby, with sticky white stuff dripping all over your hand.”

Your ice cream! In the seconds you’d forgotten about it, it melted just as he said, leaving trails down your hand and wrist. With an inarticulate cry of surprised dismay, you immediately started to lick the mess off your hand, mostly managing to smear wet sugar over your skin instead of actually removing it.

“You know, I’ve got something just as chilly that’d fit in your mouth.”

Your tongue still in your palm, you flicked a glance at him. You’d expect nothing less from the ghost watching what you were doing with keen, hungry interest. Beetlejuice hadn’t stopped rubbing himself through his trousers and you saw him give himself a squeeze that was none to gentle.

“Oh?” you replied innocently. “You think something like that’d cool me down?”

“Fuckin’ heat you up, more like,” he growled. “I know how much you like suckin’ my cock.”

This hadn’t been on your agenda today, but his unexpected arrival did make you think dirty thoughts. Shoving the remaining bite of the ice cream sandwich into your mouth, you gave up trying to clean off your hand and spun in the lounge chair so he was between your legs. Looking up at him, you grinned even as you reached for the button and zipper on his trousers.

As your fingers undid the fastenings, you said, “This is all for me then, huh? Sucking you off is all for me, because you don’t feel much of anything?”

You dug into the front of his pants--he never wore underwear, so you didn’t have to contend with that barrier--and eased his cock out. Grub-pale and heavy in your hand, it did have a distinct chill that wasn’t unpleasant in this blasted heat.

Beetlejuice looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, drawing a thumb over his lower lip. “I think you know the answer to that, babydoll. Now you just gonna sit there? That sandworm isn’t gonna suck itself.”

Even as you rolled your eyes again that he called his dick a sandworm, you obediently opened your mouth and he rocked his hips. Because you were holding him by the base of his cock, it was the perfect position to slip between your lips and onto your tongue. You loosened your jaw; you knew he tended to pop himself forward once in your mouth and--

Beetlejuice thrust, his cock filling your mouth almost to your throat.

--yep, there it was.

The second he was encased in your mouth, you sucked him hard.

He groaned. A hand went to the back of your head and fingers entangled into your hair. You gave him a few sucking strokes, and on one of the outward pulls, he yanked back a little so your face tilted backward.

“Look up at me,” he ordered.

You barely contained another eye roll. Instead, you concentrated on doing as he asked, keeping your eyes trained upward as best you could bobbing on his cock. Along with the movement, you alternated swirling your tongue around him and applying heavy solid suction. He’d been correct; his cock was chilly in your mouth, although not quite as cold as the ice cream had been and nowhere near as tasty.

The ghost continued to groan and now gasp at each sensation you wrung from him. He tipped his head back, and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

Without warning, you pulled off him. He gasped again, for a different reason, and dropped his gaze back to you. His mouth was open and he looked a little stuporous, as well as surprised.

“Look at me,” you ordered him.

He swallowed again and nodded quickly. You quirked an eyebrow at him as if to silently say he better not forget to keep his eyes trained downward. Then, keeping your eyes locked on his, you went back to work with even more vigor.

There was a little more intimacy, with direct eye contact. As much intimacy as sitting outside in basically nothing, sucking a basically fully clothed ghost’s cock could be. You laughed as best you could with that cock down your throat at what you must look like and what the neighbors would think if they happened to see you. Beetlejuice continued to moan and tightened his hand in your hair, as if he thought you were laughing at him. His hips rocked forward to shove himself in a little deeper.

The head of his cock choked off your air supply and cut your chuckle short. Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something or stop. Without taking your mouth off him you narrowed your eyes and worked him even harder.

You sucked, your swirled, you didn’t swallow any of the thick spit blowing him built up in your mouth. It ran out of your mouth and soaked your chin and neck; when you deep throated him it drenched his rat’s nest of pubic hair and trousers. Pulling back after keeping him fully inside you raised your eyes again. He locked eyes with yours even as drool beaded on his own lower lip. It became too heavy to remain there, and a thin droplet of it fell.

He licked his lip then. “Your fuckin’ mouth baby,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh,” you were able to reply, since that was easier than actual words. He seemed to want to choke out some words, however, so you slowed.

“Told you it was better, didn’t I?” he reminded you. “Nice isn’t it, something that’s cold in that hot mouth of yours that doesn’t melt right away? Fuck, baby, you gonna edge me so you can keep going? You gonna want to keep my cock in your mouth as long as possible--”

That was exactly what you didn’t want. Already his babbling grated on your nerves, like he was the one in charge here. You took him as deep as possible again, with your nose pressed into the wet hair over his pubic bone. Beetlejuice interrupted himself with an open-mouthed groan. You’d have smiled at the power you had over him, but that would break the suction.

Keeping his cock exactly where it was, you used your tongue to press it up against your hard palate for some variety in sensation and paused a second to breathe through your nose. You couldn’t tilt your head up enough to look him in the face again, but from the now involuntary jerks his body gave and the rhythmic tightening of his fingers in your hair, you didn’t need to see his expression to know that he was damn close to blowing his load down your throat.

As if on cue, he rasped, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come--”

You left off the heavy suction for a second.

“Down your throat or on your skin, baby?”

His come would have a distinctly different taste in the back of your throat than the ice cream you’d eaten, so you answered him by releasing him and pulling back a bit. You caught his eyes again, dark even in the sunlight, and grinned up at him. His hand left your hair and went to his own cock.

Beetlejuice gave a slightly different groan at seeing you displayed in front of him. His hand stroked his length easily due to the amount of spit you’d laved him with. You gathered some of the spit that had dripped to your chest and smeared it, making yourself shiny. With the breeze from the fan, your nipples peaked. The grin didn’t leave your face.

The ghost jerked himself off, and broke the rule about keeping eye contact with you. His eyes were riveted to your chest. That was okay; you couldn’t help watching his cock disappear and reappear in his own hand, his pace increasing the closer he got to finishing. When he leaned over and used your shoulder for balance, you knew his end was inevitable.

He squeezed the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, then gave another frantic jerk and cried out as he came. Thick, off-white come spurted onto your upper chest, and it was just as chilly as his cock had been. You gasped as it painted you, and you couldn’t help taking one hand to smear it thinly over your skin. It was only slightly less tacky than the ice cream that had melted earlier. His nails dug into your shoulder, and you shrugged it to remind him that you were still a breather and didn’t really appreciate the pain.

Once his cock stopped pulsing and the last of his ejaculate dribbled out, he blew his breath out like he’d run a marathon.

The spunk you’d smeared was even cooler when the air from the fan hit it. You knew the sensation wouldn’t last long, but it was nice for the moment.

“You’re pretty hot, baby,” Beetlejuice complimented.

You gave him a look. “Yeah. I know. That’s the whole problem.”

He smirked and took your upper arm, hauling you to your feet.

“Why don’t I try to cool you down--now gimme a chance to explain, baby!” he said over your attempt to interrupt him. “My entire body is just as chilly as my dick, sweetheart, so me laying on top of you or you laying on top of me is gonna help. And when I say my entire body, I mean my tongue too, so just imagine what that’ll feel like tickling up between your legs. Cool you down from the inside out.”

When he put it that way . . .

Beetlejuice grinned as your expression softened into compliance.

“Come on baby,” he continued. “Let’s get inside where I can really concentrate. Unless you wanna continue to give the neighbors a free show?”

“What?!” you squawked, scrambling for your bra to cover yourself.

He laughed and didn’t let you grab it, pulling you along with him into the house and up to your bedroom. As far as a sweltering day went, at least a corpse-cold lover helped make it better.

fin!

[kawoala]

hi!! i would like to request sakusa having a very cheerful girlfriend who gradually changes her appearance little by little, he doesn’t notice it because he thinks she’s beautiful in any way, like lets say she used to have this fluffy wavy hair then she just smoothen it and her clothes used to have fun patterns on them now its just plain. then one day he just goes “what happened to your hair?” And she just breaks down because she did all that so that she could fit into his ‘type’. you can make it as fluffy or as angsty as you wantt, thank youu sm💗💗

𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 fit in word count ; (777) content warning ; (first time writing for him BEAR WITH ME, curly hair! reader, insecurity, angst to comfort, profanity, crying)

It starts off small. So small, in fact, that Kiyoomi convinces himself that he’s imagining things.

The first thing he notices is small. A mute blue hoodie instead of your usual bright yellow one. If he were anyone else, he wouldn’t have even noticed it. He thought it was odd at the moment, but assumed you just hadn’t done laundry.

The next thing he notices is that you’ve been gradually replacing your loud jewelry�� different shaped beads of all shapes and colors— with simple, silver jewelry. He wants to comment on it, but he assumes you’re just trying out new things. You’ve always liked to do that, right?

When you start straightening your hair more often and wearing it in slick-backs, he’s confused. You’re basically a shell of your past self by now. Fun, loud colors turned to dark, muted colors. If he was paying closer attention, he would compare it to his own closet and see the similarity. Jewelry that clinks against each other with each step, is now a simple chain with a heart pendant. Your beautiful curly hair— now straight, hanging down your back as you do the dishes.

Kiyoomi sits at the dining room table, eyes narrowed as he pieces all of this change together. His chin is in his hand, his elbow on the table, one finger framing his face. He wants to say something— badly. But if he does? Who knows what will happen. Maybe you’re just growing. That’s a thing people do, right? People change over the years. Kiyoomi knows he sure as hell has.

“You straightened your hair,” he finally says, breaking the silence. He watches as you stop scrubbing the dish you're holding. “And you stopped wearing your jewelry.”

You hesitate to answer, he can see that. Your body twitches as if it’s going to turn around, but you don’t. You continue scrubbing at the dish. “I, um, got overstimulated. Couldn’t deal with the curls and the, uh, loud beads.”

Kiyoomi hums, because he knows you’re lying. There’s a shake to your voice that he can’t quite place.

“Do you not like it?” Your voice is quiet. Tentative. Timid. Something he’s never heard from you before.

He stands from the table and walks over to you, standing directly behind you. “I love you in all shapes and forms,” he says. “But you straightened your hair yesterday. And the day before that. And you put your jewelry in a box in the closet.” You turn to look at him, eyes widened a fraction. “Yeah, I saw it.” He frowns. “What’s going on? Why are you… changing yourself?”

You press your lips together and avoid his eyes. He takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. His heart skips at the sight of tears on your waterline. “What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“I… I was just…” you can’t even get your sentence out. “You’re so clean. You and your family are… You’re nice and proper and rich and I am not. I am loud and obnoxious and I dress like an elementary school teacher and my hair is loud and big and I do not fit in with you.”

Kiyoomi is stunned. The words tumble out of your mouth, tears fall down your cheeks and Kiyoomi can’t move. His lips part in a desperate attempt to speak, but nothing comes out.

Kiyoomi has never been one for physical affection. Growing up, his parents never hugged him. His sister was much older, so she wasn’t around to fulfill that either. But in this moment, as the tears don’t stop and you’re practically choking on your own breath, Kiyoomi presses your face into his chest and wraps his arms around you.

“You are perfect just the way you are,” Kiyoomi mumbles into your hair. “I love your big, curly hair and I love the way you dress and I love you. You don’t need to change who you are just because you think you don’t fit in. You do fit in with me. And who gives a fuck what my parents think, hm? They don’t even know you, Y/n, but if they did, they would love you too. It’s not how you dress, or how you act, it’s you. I love you.”

Slowly but surely, your breathing steadies. You’re no longer choking on your own breath, no longer shaking. You keep your face pressed into his chest.

You pull away eventually and stare up at him with big, wet eyes. “I love you too.”

He presses another kiss into your hair and smiles down at you. “Good. Now, what do you want for dinner? I’ll make it tonight, okay?”

[luvsickbugs]

TRENCH COAT

Character: Remy 'Gambit' Lebeau x male reader

Plot: What happens in vegas stays in vegas.

Warnings: Smut, Top Remy, Bottom male reader, Mentions of riding, Mentions of rogue, hair pulling, vibrating hands (idk honestly, i think i saw it in a tweet once.) Dick size gets mentioned and there is alot of teasing, kinda actually has a plot. (I think that's it, I wrote his accent like mine is and how people around me sound, i tried to even add extra twang hopefully its good!!)

The bathroom door pushes open and Remy's snores come to a halt as the light shined across his face, He groans and rub his face. He leans up on his elbows and squints his eyes, His face quickly heats up when his eyes focus on the man in the doorway.

His eyes dart up and down at the clothes you were wearing-- You were only wearing two pieces of clothes but the sight of them was making everything on him go warm.

You were wearing those tight white boxers that Rogue had got you as a gag gift for valentines and a trenchcoat- his trenchcoat. It looked perfect on you, It fit you wonderfully, Not too big or too small.

His mouth dried up as his lips stretched into a grin, His eyes faltered for a second on the marks on your collarbones, "Somethin' 'bout you wearing my coat gives me a mighty big feelin' of possessiveness, cher." His eyes finally go back up to your face.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes, You had just grabbed the first thing you saw to cover yourself to go piss.

When you got closer to the bed, Remy hooked his fingers into the pockets on the side of the coat and tugged you forward till your knees hit the mattress. "Lemme cuddle for a bit." He wanted you against him, He already felt cold even though he had two thick blankets covering him. He wanted your legs between his and your hands in his hair, He wanted you all over him.

When the blankets were lifted, You crawled under the covers. Your legs naturally found Remy's legs and you threw one of your legs around his waist, He was warm. You felt his hand slip under the trenchcoat and laid flatly against your side, His fingers lightly tracing up and down. It felt nice, He felt nice against you.

Remy buried his face into your hair, He kissed your head before leaning back and cupping your jaw to stare at you, "Good mornin'," He grinned, "I feel like I got hit by that motorcycle of yers, Did ya really ride me that hard last night?" He leans down and kisses your forehead.

You laughed and pushed his face away, "Don't be so vulgar."

He leaned into your hand and kissed your palm, "Ain't vulgar if it's true," He kept eye contact with you, He knew eye contact made you squirm. "Besides, Gambit's only askin' a question."

He smirked when he watched you turn your head away from him, His hand that was under the trench coat dragged his fingers down till they grazed the waistband of your boxers. His smirk grew when he felt your hips move up against his fingers. "You usually wear more clothes than just gambits coats an' those tightey whiteys you call boxers."

"They aren't that tight." You mumbled, You felt the flush crawl up your neck and your heart was beating fast and the teasing fingertips dipping in and out of your waistband didn't help.

"They are tight," He hooked the waistband with his index finger, "Don't see why you feel the need to wear 'em so small. You tryin' to show off?"

Remy slipped his index out of the waistband and instead traced your obvious bulge, He felt you twitch under his fingertips, "They're almost indecent." He swallowed, He just wanted to take them off you and make you feel so good. You looked so pretty laying beside him, He could feel your fingers tracing his collarbones and it just made a shiver go down his spine and his own cock pushed against his boxers. "Might as well not even be there."

You wrapped your hand around his wrist-- God, He wants that hand to be wrapped around something else. Fucking your hand would be enough as long as you look up at him with those pretty eyes and talk to him and he'd be set. He just needed you. It has never mattered what way, He'd have you any way you'd let him.

A groan left you and your hand tightened around his wrist, You wanted to jut your hips against his hand for any friction, But you knew as soon you did that he'd pull his hand away. He was a bastard. "It's just the brand Rogue got."

Remy scoffs, He stares down at you and you squeeze his wrist tighter, He laughs softly, "They basically are see-through," He takes his free hand and drags it down your chest, "Can see more comin' out of these than out of those damn shorts on yer suit. Don't take that as complainin' 'cause I ain't."

"You aren't supposed to look at me doing missions."

"And you're not supposed to be fightin' in something so damn small," He murmured, "Can see yer everything, There ain't much left to the imagination."

He moved his free hand down your chest and cupped you, "You expectin' me to ignore a view like that when I know I'm the only one who's allowed to see it?"

Your breath hitched and your grip loosened on his wrist, "and rogue."

He squeezed you, Just to hear the small gasps, "Don't know how the hell she resists you sometimes." He grumbled, He watched as a small wet spot formed on the front of your boxers. He rubbed your tip through the fabric and your hips jutted up against him. He smirked and stopped moving his thumb.

Your hips jutted upwards again, You groaned when he pulled his hand fully away, "She has this nice thing called restraint and control."

Remy chuckles, He moved so he was positioned in between your legs and leaned over you to kiss you on your collarbone and up your neck. "I don't have an ounce of restraint or control, 'specially when it comes to you two, cher."

You leaned your head back and hummed, Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his lips against your skin, "You need to work on that."

He smiled against your skin, His hands grabbed at your sides, "It'd be a boring life if Gambit was on his best behaviour all the time."

A laugh escaped you when his stubble brushed against your jaw, "You drool when we stand close together and if we're in our suits, You melt."

The sound of your laugh made him grin, He closed his eyes and he just wanted to soak all of you in, He was smitten. "I'm only human, darlin', ain't got the same self-discipline as you." He kissed your jaw, He wanted to make you laugh again. "I oughta just start wearin' a bib."

"Besides," He murmured against your skin, His hand drifting back downwards, "I'm still holdin' up pretty well, All things considered."

Remy kissed every spot on your neck that he had missed last night, He grazed his teeth against your collarbone. He watched as you leaned your head back to give him more room.

"Are you?" Your voice was quiet and your eyes were closed, You were just focusing on him.

"You've currently got my hand in ya underwear," He squeezed against you and a gasp left you, The feeling shooting up your spine and your cock pushed more against his fingers. "My hard on pressin' against ya ass as we speak ... so, yes, I'd say I'm doing pretty well."

You grab onto his shoulders, Your fingers dig into the flesh and you spread your legs to wrap around his waist, You could feel him through his own underwear and it just made you want to whine. But you didn't want to fuel his ego, You physical had to swallow it down.

He grabbed onto your thigh, His fingers couldn't fully wrap around the flesh but just the sight of his slender fingers made you feel empty. "Vous allez me tuer, cher."

You felt yourself twitch, Fuck, You needed him and he obviously needed you.

You grab onto his hair and pull him to your face, "Get the lube," You whispered. "It's in my bedside table."

The response he gave you was a shaky breath as he leaned forward, which just made him push his dick more up against you. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you, It was sloppy. You could hear him fumbling in the drawer with his hand.

You tighten your hand in his hair, It was soft in between your fingers. You tugged the strands to make his head turn and give you more control in the messy kiss.

"Merde-" Remy groaned, He pulled back from the kiss and he was gasping for air. He glanced over to the bedside drawer and he wrapped his hand around the bottle. A shiver ran down his body and straight to his cock when he felt your lips against his jaw. He fumbled with the cap, But he just couldn't focus on opening the damn bottle. "Ya gonna have to let me sit up."

You kissed along his jaw line and whispered, "Just focus." You guided his head to turn the other way, You wanted to kiss every inch of him. You felt him shiver against you and gasp as you kept kissing his neck. Your fingers wrap around his jaw to keep his face still.

"Hard to do that when you keep doin' that." He grumbled, He's got the cap inbetween his teeth now and he's trying to pull it off.

"Condoms." You just remembered that those were needed, You blinked and leaned back and your hand trailed down from his jaw to his collar bone. You felt his throat move as he swallowed. "The large should be in the drawer."

Remy looked towards the drawer, The lube tube hanging from his mouth like a dog toy. You could see lube dripping down his chin from where his teeth pierced the plastic. He grabbed the condoms, Your hand still in his hair and you pulled him back towards you with it.

"Y'know," Remy pulled the lube from his mouth with one hand and the other hand had the whole box of condoms. "Gambit thinks ya got a kink for usin' ol' remy's hair as a damn leash."

"Works doesn't it?"

Remy lets the condoms box fall beside them, A few of them spilled out onto the sheets, "Can't argue with that," He gave your thigh a hard squeeze, "Just might have to return the favor, cher."

You raised a brow and brought your thumb to his chin and wipe off the lube that had dripped onto the skin, "You're just a mess," You mumble, "Is this shit even edible?"

His shoulders lifted then fell and his head dipped a inch to lick the lube off the tip and he tilted his head in mock thought, "It tastes like cherry," He nibbled on your thumb with a grin and he kept his red eyes on your own. "So it must be, no?"

You can't help the laugh that climbs out of your throat, Your lips stretched into a grin, "Give it here," You moved your hand away from his teeth, "Best make sure you won't fall over and die on me."

"I aint gonna die from some cheap lube," He huffed, But he tossed it onto your chest.

You flip the box, "Lucks on your side," You looked back at him, "Its a water based formula."

"Now," Remy smirked, "Let's get back to business, shall we, mon cher?" He placed his hands on each side of your head and leaned down to kiss you, He wanted to part your lips with his tongue, He wanted to taste you so fucking badly but he pulled back a few inches to whisper, "Top or bottom?"

You almost wanted to laugh, but you pursed your lips and answered, "You grabbed your condoms, So ill just bottom."

He immediately dipped his head and kissed your neck, He felt your adams apple move as you swallowed and he felt each breath you took, god, He could die doing this. "Just lemme-" He grabbed the lube and pulled his glove off with his teeth, He left his glove on once while jacking you off and it took forever to get the stains out. "just lemme finish preparin' and i'll give ya exactly what ya need."

He grabbed the underside of you knees and pulled them apart, "Merde," He swallowed as he stared at you with hunger in his pretty eyes, He added a ton of lube on two of his fingers and he dipped his hand in between your thighs. "So pretty." He whispered as he slipped a finger in, He watched as you turned your head away and covered your mouth with the palm of your hand.

Remy tsked, "Cher, We're going to have a word about all that noise that ain't being made." He leaned forward and snatched your hand away before curling his finger inside of you, His fingertip searching for that bundle of nerves.

"Fuck--"

"There it is!" He laughed, He nipped at the inside of your thigh, "Ya get too quiet sometimes."

"You talk too much," You grumble and your hips dug down and took more of his slender finger inside, "and don't do alot."

"You- We both know," He slid another finger in, "that's a damn lie."

He kissed on your thigh, "Don't go forgetting who makes sure ya don't walk normal for days after our little meetups, cher."

"Bit cocky," You gasped as you closed your eyes and you began to fuck yourself on the two fingers.

Remy's fingers move and he pushes against that bundle and then stops just to push everywhere around that spot, "When i'm right, I'm right." He grazed your thigh with his teeth, "You'll be the one walking funny, not gambit."

Your back lifted off the sheets as he taunted you with not pushing that bundle of nerves again, Your hips moved downwards trying to make him brush against it, Your dick was aching and you knew it was weeping precum at this point, You felt it dripping down the side.

Remy pulled out and wiped his fingers on the sheets as he grabbed one of the condoms with his other hand, "Taking that as a compliment," He grinned and he ran a hand through his hair and out of his face, "Though," He pulled the wrapper off, "your about to be able to tell how hot you are and how damn good remy is in--" He slipped the condom on and smirked as he looked down at you, "in thirty seconds or so."

He leaned forward and grabbed a pillow, "Iift up f'me," He shoved the pillow under your hips when you lifted them.

You wrapped your leg around his hip and the other found its place on his shoulder, His hands found their place on your knees again, He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, "Careful," He looked back down, "Might just take this as you wanting it rough, mon cher."

He slowly pushed his hips forward and he felt you swallowing him whole and with a groan and after one pause he was fully in, His head dipped down and he murmured something in french that your ears couldn't catch.

Your hands climbed their way up his neck and back into his hair as your back lifted up and your mouth opened with a groan.

"Ya hellbent on destroying those perfectly styled tresses of mine, aint ya, cher?" He slipped out a few inches before pushing back in, His eyes rolled back in his head at the warm feeling of you around him.

Your hands pull his face down towards your own as your teeth dug into your bottom lip, He shook his head as he looked down at you, "No, no," He poked your cheek with his thumb, "youre gonna keep makin' those damn sweet sounds--"

Your lips met his and he gasped when your teeth sunk into his bottom lip, His hips jutted forward at the sting. You pulled back and he blinked, "oh." He leaned back down to get your lips against his again.

"faster," You murmur as your hand pushed at the back of his head to push him closer to you, You felt him twitch inside of you as he moved a hand down to your thigh, That gave you a wonderful idea. The leg around remy's hip pushed against the small of the red haired's back to push him deeper inside of you.

"Merde--" Remy whines, His lips brush against your chin as his head ducked down to stare at the place you two connect at. He moved his hips in a familiar pace, His hand tightened around your thigh as he tried to ground himself. You were just so warm and good and that fucking mouth of yours, jesus, you were going to kill him. "If ya aint good."

You kissed his forehead and his head shot up which gave you the perfect angle to kiss his jaw, which you gladly did. You placed sloppy kisses all over the flesh.

"Darlin'" His hips move quicker and his voice gets more whiny.

"hm?" Your kisses stop as you get closer to his ear. His dick drug pass that spot and your eyes fluttered as you moaned, Your fingers nails dug into scalp as you started to move your hips to met his and his head dipped down to bury itself against your neck, He kissed your skin, which made your turn your head to give him more room.

Your leg around his waist pushed against his back again which this time made him lurch forward and his stomach brushed against your abandoned cock, That made the feeling in your stomach get worse and your cock weeped even more. You opened your mouth to ask remy to touch you but all that came out was more moans.

"I aint gonna last another goddamn minute if you keep this up," His thrust grows faster and then it stops immediately. A whine escapes your throat as remy gasps for breath above you, "I gotta change the damn position, cher."

He kissed your neck and leaned back up, He looked down at you, He moved his thumb to hook inside of your mouth, "Don't worry," He murmured as he moved his thumb around your mouth covering it in spit, "You won't be empty for too long."

Your brows furrowed for a second but before you could even process a question he pulled out and rolled over so he was laying down beside you, His thumb slipped out of your mouth, now both your holes were empty, how annoying.

Remy pats his thigh, "Come on, darlin'," He beckoned you with a curl of his index finger, "Ride me."

"Not even a please?" You whispered. Not that he needed to beg, you would gladly ride him all night long if he so wished.

"Ya know damn well the please is heavily implied." He grumbled, He moved his hands to his side as you climbed onto him. His hands went back to your hips.

"You gonna be good f'me, mon cher?" He leaned back onto the pillows and up at you.

"I feel like that question might be more for you then me," You grabbed his cock in your hand and slipped it back in, It was such a wonderful feeling and your head fell back as you sighed and your eyes closed as you soaked up the feeling of remy becoming one with you.

"Ha, You're real funny," His nails dug into your skin, "How's the view? You enjoying it?"

You tilted your head as you stared down at him, He did look beautiful, his red hair was spewed across the pillowcase and his cheeks were a dusted pink, You could see the marks you left on his chest and neck the night before. You moved your hand to lay flat against his chest and you felt each breath he took as his chest lifted and fell, god, he was so pretty. You could just bite him.

You began moving up and down, His body arched and his neck was bared to you, Something overcame you and your fingers wrapped around his throat as you went faster.

"You really are going to kill me, cher," He whined, His hips began moving up to met you in the middle. It had you groaning and squeezing tighter around his neck.

The sound of flesh hitting each other bounced off the walls and the room was filled with the sounds of both of you groaning and moaning each other's praises.

"A damn kiss would be good f'me right now," Remy moaned, His hips went faster to met your slower movements that made your head swim. "Come on, be a good boy and kiss ya man."

You nodded, he felt so deep inside you, so fucking good. You leaned down to give him a quick peck.

His hips started to go faster, Which made you moan and your back arched, your fingers dug into his shoulders. Your eyelids closed and your mouth opened to let out all the noises that climbed up your throat.

"Mmmmf-" Remy groaned, He pulls you down faster on his cock, you felt so good and warm and there was that squeeze you did ever few seconds that just made him--

You felt the condom swell inside of you and your brows furrowed and you gasped for air, "Did you just...?" you questioned him as his hips slowed down.

His head fell back against the pillows with a groan, "Yeah," He closed his eyes as he took deep breaths and you watched his chest go up and down quite quickly, "I have a damn good excuse, cher."

"Yeah?" Your own cock was still abandoned and weeping as it brushed against the abs in front of you and each brush made your hips lift, You wanted to paint remy's skin in you.

"Shaddup," He swatted your side, "I swear im not this quick, usually."

You nodded and leaned down to place your hands by his head as you started to lift your hips again to chase your own release.

"Oh--" He whined. He stares up at you, his eyes scan every inch of you and he couldn't help but admire you. The small shine that decorated your skin from the lamp on the bedside, Every thing about your body was perfect to him and he wanted to kiss all of it.

"Keep going?"

"Hell yeah," He nodded, "I aint nowhere done with ya, cher." He moves his hand down to grab your weeping cock, His thumb rubbed against the tip. You immediately reacted and thrusted up into his hand you moaned, The feeling of finally being touched was amazing. Your head was feeling light and that knot in your stomach tightened as you fucked his hand.

"Ya just love gambit's hand on ya," His hand squeezed the base of your cock and he slowed down his hips to match the pace of his hand.

You were being drowned in pleasure, You couldn't decide if you wanted to fuck yourself on his dick or fuck his hand, Both felt so good, everything felt so fucking good. You whined and thrusted in his hand, your tip brushed against his stomach and fucking hell--

Your back arched as you grabbed onto his shoulders, He was so deep inside of you and his hand was warm and squeezed you every few seconds, sweet jesus, this man was amazing.

"Not so gentle tonight," He smirked up at you, "are we, mon cher?" His breath hitched at the nails digging into his skin, it was definitely going to leave crescent shapes.

You blinked as his words met your ears and you leaned down to kiss on his collarbones for a silent apology.

"You're not sorry," He laughed, His hand tightened and slowly dragged themselves from the base to the tip.

You kissed the crescent shapes and looked up at him with eyes that you knew made him melt inside and his knees into noodles. Your mind swam at the feeling of his hand, You tried to focus but all you wanted to do was fuck his hand.

"Ya gonna apologize to every mark you'd made," He questioned, His free hand drug its nails against your scalp and through the strands. He watched as you nodded.

"Damn good manners," He looked down and watched you fuck his hand and the way your mouth opened, He wouldn't be surprised if you started drooling. The idea of you doing something that pathetic made him flush, He would have to see if that would be something you'd find hot. "Gambit likes those manners."

You head tilted to the side and laid against his chest, You moaned as your hips kept fucking his hand. Your head was swimming and you only had one thought, like a dog in heat. All you could do was fuck and whimper.

"Ya close, darlin'?" He loosened his hand on your cock, "I know that whimper ya get every time ya get close."

Your hips faltered but he picked up your slack, Your eyes rolled back into your head. "Shit." You whined.

"Ah-ah," He chided, "language."

Your head struggled to process the words because if you did process them you wouldve made a comment about how he uses that language as well, But you couldn't process shit as his hips started to move again with the same fast pace as his hand. Your legs were starting to burn as you moved up and down, you were slowing down now.

You whined when you felt his hands start to vibrate, It was a weird sensation and something that you didn't even know he could do. You looked down to see his hands growing that familiar pink hue that comes from his powers, "When did you learn you could do that?" The vibrations were rushing up your spine and it made you want to release even more, You were getting closer to the edge now and his thumb-- vibrating thumb at that was pushing against your tip and smearing your precum all over your cock, "Ah- fuck- remy-"

"Ya say that like i wasn't doing all sorts of fun with my powers since the beginning." Remy laughs, He drags his thumb down from the tip and down the underside of your cock all the way to your balls, which he cupped in his palm. He tilts his head and watches every little emotion that crosses your face, His eyes dart all over your body watching every reaction that your body makes, like you were his own personal experiment.

Your head fell back and your hips dug down, All your thoughts were mush, You couldn't even think properly right now, All you think about was his cock and his hands and those beautiful eyes of his that seemed to be glued to you.

"Ya like that, don't ya?" His hand moved to wrap itself back around your length and it moved down to the base and sat there, "Ya getting close, cher?"

You nodded, The knot in your stomach was getting tighter and you wanted to unloosen it, You leaned down and buried your face in his shoulders and your mouth opened to bury your teeth in his flesh.

"Gonna make a mess on gambit's chest?" He groaned at the feeling and his hips were starting to falter again.

Your let go of his flesh and turned your head to be buried in his neck instead, "sweet jesus." you whined.

"That a prayer, cher?" He moved his other hand to grasp your balls, "Gonna keep moaning f'me like a pretty little thing?" His hand started to vibrate around your balls as your eyes rolled back into your head, "Make me feel like the lucky one here, cher."

Your teeth sunk back into him as you finally came, The feeling made your head feel fuzzy and your body relaxed into his, God, that felt good.

"ah-ah," He chided, "Watch those damn fangs." His hand grabbed onto your locks and pulled you back, He glanced down at his shoulder and he was sure he could count all your teeth in the mark, "Damn, cher, gonna have a mark for a week."

"Sorry," You swallowed, Your eyes blinked slowly as you stared at him. You felt so good, right now.

"Better be," He smiled at you, He released your hair and patted your cheek, "damn sharp teeth ya got there."

You lifted your hips a little to slip him out and flopped onto the pillows beside him.

"Tired, darlin'?" He leaned up and grabbed a handful of tissues off the bedside, he leaned back on his thighs and began wiping your stomach clean before doing himself.

"What are we gonna tell charles and erik?" The fact that you two weren't supposed to be together this night came rushing back to your mind ruining every good feeling you just had.

"Nothin'?" Remy laughed awkwardly, "We're grown ass adults-" He pulled the condom off his cock and cleaned himself off fully, "They don't need to know."

"I know that," You grumble, You watched every move he made.

"Ya think they're suspicious we're bangin'?" He teased, He tossed the used condom and tissue into the bin beside the bed. He laid down on the pillow beside you.

"Erik will probably think you're corrupting me," You teased.

"Erik has called me worse, cher," He grabbed his cigarette off the bedside and fumbled with the lighter, He took a deep breath once he finally got it lit.

You stared at his lips that were wrapped around the end of the cig, "What time is the flight tomorrow?"

"bout noon," He held the cigarette out for you to take a drag. You shook your head, you didn't want to smoke right now. He brought it back to his lips, "Ya gonna stay up all night?"

"no."

His free hand ran its way through your hair, "Gambit isn't gonna let ya sit here and worry all night about the professor and that metalhead."

You laughed, "Metal head."

"They'll say their piece, We'll tell em a lie, then we'll go back to bangin'" He blew some smoke up towards your face, Which in response you lightly shoved his face away. "Rude."

"Goodnight, remy," You patted his chest before rolling over onto your side and closing your eyes, You tried to ignore as your boss -- erik -- face flicked into your head.

"Night, cher."

Now it was just a waiting game, It was time to see who would leave first. It always happened the same way: one of you would wake up first and leave without waking the other. The one who left would always make sure to leave a stack of cash on the bedside to cover all expenses.

It was just a question on who would it be this time?

[phone4pills]

THAT’LL  TEACH  HIM ex’s best friend Matt

𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐 — on behalf of your now ex-husband, Matt brings a few of your stuff back to your house in boxes. but the two of you get carried away and things get heated.

specific type — a little angst and then smut

side effects — crying, mentions of cheating, p in v, missionary, condom was indeed used (stay safe), use of y/n

The doorbell pulled you momentarily out of the thoughts that spun like a carousel around your brain. Who could it possibly be? Had you ordered something recently? Perhaps you could’ve forgotten with the weight of the recent situation on your shoulders. A divorce.

Four wasted years full of lies and cheating. And when you’d caught the man he was audacious enough to throw a fit. Like a grown baby, arguing like there was no tomorrow. How could you be wrong in a at way in that scenario? You’d been loyal to him like your life depended on it and he’d been hooking up with a woman he met at a strip club, drunk out of his mind, for half of the marriage.

You oh so wanted to be strong about all of it. To wear the damned ring just to prove something to the jerk. To prove you were worth that band of gold. To prove that you’d upheld the vows you stated at the wedding, and that you had every right to the ring. Though he had no right to wear it. After all he’d put you through. But it was proving to be a challenge. You couldn’t take the mind off the jewel glimmering on your ring finger, almost as if the gold particles were causing your skin to burn, like it was cutting off the blood circulation to the rest of your finger.

You made your way to the front door, eyes red as you gazed at the piles of his papers on the kitchen counter. The wreck of things that crowded your living room. A few of them from the argument you’d had, a few of them from what used to be his side of your closet. Now a scattered mess like the remnants of his evil that had bonded your heart.

Upon opening the door, you were met with a guy in a white long sleeve and a grey beanie. He was carrying a pretty big box and you could see that his car was parked just a few metres down the pavement. You quickly wiped a tear off your face with the back of your hand, sniffling. “Can I help you?” He nodded, glancing down at the box. Your eyes followed to see the big word written with black marker: ‘Clothes’.

“You’re y/n, right?” You nodded quickly, understanding that he might be a friend of your ex. “Yeah. Did he send you?” Matt told you that he did. Throwing a quick ‘sorry’ into the sentence. He could tell this wasn’t exactly a great situation for you. And the ‘breakup box’ wasn’t exactly helpful. Especially when it wasn’t even a breakup. It was a divorce. When Matt told you there were a few more in his car, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be shocked. Only a little hurt. But then again, you’d spent all morning packing your ex’s stuff together. It was only fair.

“Let me get some shoes, I’ll help you with those.” The next couple minutes, you and Matt went back and forth between your home, carrying box after box. A conversation sparked between the two of you, completely overruling the previous awkwardness of the situation. You had to admit, he was a good listener too, never interrupting you. How he used to do. Never invalidating what you said. Like he used to do. You wondered why you had to end up with the bitch boy that your ex was instead of a nice guy like Matt. “Just my luck.” You’d told Matt, making him chuckle a little. He didn’t take any offense to the slander of your former husband, probably aware that he was kind of an idiot for what he’d done.

After you’d managed to get all but one of the boxes in, Matt insisted he get the last one. But you shook your head, heading back out to grab it and carry it inside. When you read the writing on it, your heart instantly stuttered. ‘Explicit’. All of the pictures and Polaroids he had of you. Utterly vulnerable. There was no way he’d sent back the whole lot. Was there? Could he have been a decent guy just once? You hoped?

Matt had been waiting for you in the living room for a while. He’d had a message from your ex to give you but when he noticed you’d been outside for a while, he made his way out there. Only to find you frozen with a teary face at the boot of his car. He slipped his phone, that was previously in his hands, into his pocket and closed the distance between the two of you. “Hey… are you okay?” He questioned, tone soft. You nodded but he knew it wasn’t genuine. You were shaking a little and choked sobs racked through your throat.

Matt opened his arms, sort of bending down to your level. “C’mere.” You couldn’t resist a hug. Maybe it was wrong, this was your ex’s best friend. But you were upset. And you’d been alone for a while. Matt was the only company you’d had, the only person you’d seen that wasn’t a lawyer. And he was warm. And he smelled nice. Really nice. If only you’d found a guy like him. Kind, helpful and well… good looking.

His hand stroked up and down your back for a second, causing you to hum into his embrace. “This may sound crazy, but you feel really nice.” Your hands traced the muscles on his biceps, trailing to his shoulder blades. He groaned into the crook of your neck, stubble tickling your skin. “Is it weird that I want to say the same?”

You shook your head, pulling away and caressing his face. Until now, you hadn’t realised just how pretty his eyes were, staring back at yours with utmost awe. In that moment, it didn’t matter what was right and wrong. You needed to feel something. So you pulled him in, and Matt didn’t resist, gladly letting your lips capture his in a passionate dance.

…

Hungry. Ravenous. Matt pushed opened the back door, learnt you climb inside and shutting it behind himself. the sofa. His body loomed over yours, teeth biting at your bottom lip. “Fuck, shouldn’t be doin’ this.” He rasped, kneeling between your legs and gently drawing circles on your lower stomach. The tips of his fingers tugged at the hem of your shorts. You nodded when he made eye contact, giving him permission to pull them down, along with your panties.

“Matt…” You whispered, covering your face when he marvelled over your wetness. He grinned, pressing a thumb to your bud. Instantly, you gasped, throwing your head back as he toyed with you. Matt ran a finger down your wet folds, humming with approval. “So wet f’me already?”

You had no patience. All this while you’d been just numb. The feel of Matt’s hands and the sensual caress of his short beard made you crave a certain feeling. One that could only be described as dirty. You liked dirty, and you sure as day needed it. “Y’got condoms?”

“Glovebox.” He nodded. You quickly popped it open, pulling out a condom packaged in bright red. Meanwhile, Matt unbuckled his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers. “Mind puttin’ it on for me?”

With that, your teeth peeled open the packaging and your hands moved to roll the thin cover of his cock. You didn’t have it in you to say it, but it was big. Like really big. Almost scary, your ex’s didn’t even compare. You hoped you could take it, knowing you’d been missing out on Matt’s kind of size for years and years.

He was almost instantly inside of you, slowly slipping in with a groan and throwing his head back. You were so warm, so ready. Gradually he began to thrust into you, hitting all the right spots. You had no control over what came out of your mouth. Thank goodness his windows were darkened slightly. And they were all rolled up. Which meant you could be as loud as you wanted.

Matt’s pace picked up sinking not only deeper, but harder. Your jaw hung slack at the sensation, building up a tightness in your stomach. “Gonna… cum!” You moaned, gripping onto his forearms as he grinned, getting closer to his own release. And then the two of you came undone. Matt closing his eyes tight, you laying a panting mess beneath him across the back seats. All of a sudden it was really hot in the car.

“You should send back a box with all the lingerie he’d ever seen you in. That’ll teach him.” Matt suggested. You were just calm enough to comprehend his words. And you nodded, already knowing exactly which pairs you’d send to the jerk. Probably in a box labelled ‘What A Waste’.

Goodness gracious ! This took a while to write but here it is everybody. Let me know if this should be an AU. Also, we got nerd!Chris pulling up to the function soon.

- ©phone4pills

[fuctacles]

Remember late bloomers ?

Love popping into my wips and finding finished stuff I should have posted ages ago

Jeff gently informs him that getting running gear for the first date is a bit of an overkill.

“There is so much wrong with that idea. First of all, you hate running. Exercising, in general. And second, this is kinda pathetic.”

Eddie gasps.

“How dare you!”

“Dude, you just officially met today. Why would you waste money on something you might use once and then never again?”

Jeff was, of course, none the wiser that Eddie was about to enter his fit era. He’s going to jog every morning from now on, he’ll get cute matching sets with Miss Stephanie, drink smoothies, and get a gym pass. He’s going to turn his life around, lose the tummy fat he’s been harboring all winter, and turn it into a sixpack. Their fans are going to love it. Stephanie, too. They’ll run off into the sunset—or sunrise—together, they’ll make and raise the healthiest little babies—

“Are you planning your wedding or something?” Jeff interrupts his daydreams with a scoff.

Eddie bristles.

“I’ll be planning your funeral if you don’t start supporting your perpetually single friend,” he bites back.

Jeff raises his eyebrows.

“You sure that’s what you should be saying to the only friend who can lend you some jogging clothes?”

“Uh…”

“Thought so.” And Eddie hates his satisfied smirk but he’s desperate so he bites his tongue. “So, what you really need are good running shoes…”

He feels all kinds of stupid in his sporty get-up. He’s wearing his old Reeboks he wears only when his shitkickers are in repair (he will wear them to his grave), Jeff’s tracksuit pants, and his lucky Ozzy t-shirt. He woke up extra early today and his mug of coffee was almost empty by the point she, Stephanie, rounded the corner.

His mind goes blank when he recognizes his hoodie.

Maybe he hasn't woken up yet. What other explanation was there for this beautiful creature, backlit by the rising sun, to be walking up to him, decked in bright-colored leggings, and tank top and his hoodie, clashing unforgivingly with its blackness?  How else would he get a date with her if it wasn't a dream?

"You're actually dressed for running," she observes. No 'hello', no 'good morning', just her eyes roaming over his body from above. He quickly jumps up from the porch steps.

"Yeah! Lemme just..." He motions to the door with the mug, then quickly gulps down the last mouthful. "Want some water?" he asks, hand on the door. 

Stephanie's eyes snap up to his face.

"Yes."

It's weird, the way she says it, the way her eyes wander over his body. There's no way he's looking that good in borrowed sweats. They have some ugly gym logo on the side too.

"I don't really own gym clothes, but my friend was nice enough to share his," he explains, letting her in. She hums absentmindedly and follows him into the kitchen. He puts the mug in the sink and grabs a glass to fill it with freshly filtered water. When he turns around she's right there, now without the hoodie which she hung over on one of the chairs. Her tits are right there, but he holds her gaze, like a gentleman.

"Thanks." She takes the glass from him and takes a tiny sip, not breaking eye contact. Then puts it aside, on the counter behind him. "What's your stance on making out on the first date?"

Eddie's brain starts screaming.

"Not opposed to it," he answers and is immensely proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.

"Great," she says, almost relieved, as if he could give any other answer than an enthusiastic "ravish me, lady," and gently grabs his face, thumbs rubbing on the stubble along his jaw. She gives him a second to back away before leaning in.

She kisses his lips, just a little peck, a gentle caress. Dives in for another, and one more. Eddie reaches up to run his hands from her elbows up to her shoulders and feels little tremors running through her body. He frowns.

"Steph...?"

She groans instead of answering and her little kisses turn to kitten licks. When he parts his mouth for her, she licks across it, tongue pulling on his upper lip. He yelps in a pleasant surprise.

"I come here with innocent intentions," she says, her voice a bit strained, dipping into lower registers. "And you sit here, with your scrawny little ass in gym sweats." She lets go of his face so her hands can squeeze his waist minutely, before hauling him up onto the counter behind him. He squeaks, less dignified than the sounds he made before, holding onto her. Stephanie presses in and he opens his legs for her without hesitation. "And your dirty old sneakers, ready to jog with me. Eager like a puppy."

Eddie whines at the comparison.

"I'm not," he protests. He's just an adult man confronted with a beautiful woman out of his league.

"You're not?" she asks condescendingly against his ear. She's been rubbing her cheek against his stubble, nosing along the bones like she's the dog, trying to rub her scent all over him. Now she leans back to pout at him. Her lips are plush and pink and they haven't been kissed enough yet. "But I like strays."

Eddie's brain short-circuits.

"Uh... bark?"

She laughs and grips his thighs before capturing his mouth. She dominates the kiss without struggle and Eddie lets her use his mouth to her heart's content. He just wraps his arms around her neck and takes it, moves his tongue where she guides him. He can feel her hands on his thigh itching to touch more, but he doesn't want to part long enough to let her know she can, that she can take whatever she wants.

Eventually, she slides her hands up, thumbs digging into the crease of his thighs, and he mewls. His face immediately goes red at the sound that just left him.

"Well, that's something I'm not gonna un-hear."

Stephanie freezes and moves to pull away, but he traps her with his legs around her waist and presses his face against her shoulder, to hide his shame. Of course this is when Jeff decided to get up and walk into the kitchen.

"Uh, I'm sorry? And, good morning," Stephanie offers, seeing as her actual host won't be of any help. He makes a little wounded sound against her shoulder and she swats his thigh. 

"Good morning," Jeff offers back. "Stephanie, right?"

"Yeah."

"Jeff. I live here too, unfortunately. I was under the impression you were going out for a run, though?" He raises his eyebrows. "Did I lend him my exclusive membership sweats for nothing?"

"They're yours? Can we keep them?" she asks immediately. Eddie presses his nails into her skin not to make a sound at how she said 'we'. "He almost has an ass in them."

"Hey!" It's the first thing he says since Jeff walked in and the first time he moves away from the safety of Stevie-shield. Thankfully, his friend looks mostly amused, not angry or disgusted.

"Please," he makes a face. "I don't want them anymore."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Eddie's eyes narrow, the familiar back and forth giving him enough courage to release Stephanie from the clutch of his legs. She doesn't move far, just enough so the three of them can look at each other and chat comfortably. Well, considering the situation.

"I just saw you dry humping in them and you dare ask me?" Jeff scoffs.

The two culprits start protesting over each other with "We weren't dry humping!" and "We were just kissing?!" but he stops them, raising both his hands.

"I don't care! Just take them and leave the kitchen! I need some caffeine before work and the only bodily fluid I want in it comes from cow tits."

"Ew, dude," Eddie groans, but Stephanie lets out a surprised snort. 

"We're leaving!" she promises, pulling Eddie down from the counter. He scrambles to find balance but she grabs his hand to steady him. Despite them just making out, that's what makes his heart skip a beat. "it was nice to meet you, Jeff!" she offers, waving on her way out of the kitchen.

"Likewise. Good luck on your run!" he calls after them.

"Thanks!" 

Through the windows, he can still see them, Stephanie fixing Eddie's rumpled t-shirt while he's staring up at her with the dumbest expression he's ever seen. And he's seen a lot of them from his friend. 

"Good for him," he mutters to himself with a fond smile. 

[vax-merstappen]

Just home fluff with Max Verstappen, like a cozy Sunday

sundays are for racing (mv1)

ooh i love home fluff!! hope you enjoy this, anon!

summary: it is winter break so max is home this sunday, you decide to show him that it's okay to relax and take some time off.

It was the first weekend after the Formula 1 season had ended. You woke up in the bed you usually slept in alone to see that for the first time in a while, your boyfriend was sound asleep on the other side of the bed. It was comforting to know he was home and that everything in your life was together again.

You sat up and looked to the foot of the bed, seeing that Jimmy and Sassy were curled up between you and Max's legs. Your heart filled with joy, knowing your whole little family was back together. You closed your eyes for a few more minutes, content with your current situation. But then you had the wonderful idea to make breakfast in bed for your boyfriend. He had just finished an intense season of racing where he had won his third world championship. You wanted to do something special for him.

You stretched and climbed out of bed, making your way to the kitchen. The cats followed you and you made sure to put some food in their bowls before getting to work on breakfast for your boyfriend. After investigating the fridge, you decided on some toast and eggs, simple but tasty.

It took you a few minutes to make it, but you then assembled all of the ingredients on a tray along with a glass of milk. Pleased with the results, you went into your bedroom to find that your boyfriend was no longer in bed. Instead, Max was standing up and fully dressed in exercise gear.

"Max..." you said with a sigh. "Why are you going jogging?"

"Because I need to stay in shape," he replied, matter of factly.

"But the season just ended? Surely you can have a lazy day?"

He looked at the plate of food in your hand. "Was that for me?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd make you breakfast in bed so you could relax after the season. A breakfast of champions."

His gaze softened and he smiled at you. "Well I guess I can enjoy that before I jog."

He sat down on the bed and you sat beside him, wanting to be close to your boyfriend after being apart for so long. You were willing to spend any moment with him that you could get, even if it was just watching him eat breakfast.

"Thank you, darling. I wasn't expecting you to make me breakfast."

"Just wanted to do something nice for my handsome, incredible boyfriend. But he almost ruined it by going for a jog on what should be a lazy day," you teased.

"Who said today was supposed to be lazy?"

"I did. I always spend Sundays being lazy, you know, staying cozy in the house before I go back to work on Monday. I always relax on the couch and watch movies or your races."

He seemed thoughtful. "Well Sunday is usually the least lazy day for me. Sundays are for racing."

"Not when you're on break."

Max looked you in the eye. "Well I guess one lazy Sunday won't hurt anyone. You mentioned relaxing and watching movies?"

"I sure did."

"That doesn't sound so bad anymore."

You smiled and hugged Max as he finished the last bite of his food. "Let me show you how it's done. But first you've got to change into comfy clothes and not fitness clothes."

You grabbed his plate and set it in the sink. You could wash it later on a less lazy day. For now, you needed to complete your movie setup. You closed the curtains over the windows that the sun was shining through and you turned on your faerie lights that were strung around your living room. You grabbed the bowl of snacks you kept in the kitchen for such lazy days and set it on your coffee table. Finally, you got out your favorite comfy blankets and set them on the couch. By the time Max had returned wearing sweatpants, everything was set up.

"Wow, you have quite the movie theater", Max commented.

"I set it up since summer break," you explained. "The cozy room makes lazy days just so much better."

"I agree," Max said, joining you where you were seated on the couch. "So what movie are we watching?"

"Maybe Gran Turismo? I heard that was good?"

Max smiled at you jokingly. "I thought Sunday's weren't about racing when I'm on break?"

You rolled your eyes. "This isn't what I meant. But we can watch something else instead? Maybe Top Gun? I love that movie and it's similar to racing?"

Max nodded. "Sounds good to me."

You queued up the movie and leaned back on the couch. Max shifted closer next to you and wrapped his arm around you. You leaned your head on his shoulder and watched as the introduction to the movie began to play. With his other arm, Max grabbed your hand. You stayed together like that, simply enjoying the comfort of each other as the movie played.

---

Later that day, you and Max were now laying horizontally on the couch. Your bodies were so tangled together that getting up would be a struggle later. You were three movies into your movie marathon and you had not stood up from the couch once.

"You were right," Max mumbled into your ear.

"What do you mean?"

"Lazy days are great. Maybe I should spend less days worried about constantly training and more days curled up here with you."

"I would love that, Max."

"Just like I love you."

[allisonlol]

Ah, a Jouno simp...I've always been more of a Chuuya and Fyodor simp. Having said that Jouno is fast becoming a new contender. On that note..if you get time (uni is a real time eater) could we maybe get headcanons on ideal types of woman for Chuuya, Jouno & Fyodor please

a/n: chuuya and fyodor are on TOP too! jouno was love at first sight tho <33 but i would love to do this for u!! keep in mind y'all this is my OPINIONNNN so be nice or else. felt like i was writing kunikida's list of ideals LOL

warning: fem reader

(Chuuya, Jouno, Fyodor) And Their Ideal Woman

Chuuya

i feel like he's...not really picky??

like as long as ur decently nice and somewhat confident he'd be down to get to know u

i feel like chuuya would definitely be drawn to someone who puts a lot of effort into their appearance tho. he does the same so it's not a double standard!!

^such as well-put together outfits and styling ur hair or makeup to match

this is random but i think he likes girls who wear glasses...it's fine if u don't but bonus points if u do!! especially the round frames

doesn't care about height much. but if ur taller than him don't tease him too much or he'll be insecure :(

personality wise, i think chuuya would like someone who is sweet and a little shy, but knows when to stick up for themselves? like not a pushover

someone who is soft-spoken would be a nice contrast to his hotheadedness and bring out his softer side <3

Jouno

his type is me. next

all jokes but i think jouno would like someone who is very similar to him

^you would have to have a substantial amount of things in common to get close to him in the first place, since he doesn't waste his time on anyone

i'm thinking someone who is quick to aggravate, reserved, and sarcastic

there's a lot of playful banter instead of flirting

appearance doesn’t matter much since he can't exactly see you lol. but he would like to lightly trace over ur face and such to picture what you look like

due to his enhanced sense of smell he would love someone who smells good all the time...like regularly uses lotions and perfume but doesn't over-do it (too much would give him a headache)

^has an inclination towards sweet and warm scents, like vanilla. claims the florals are "too overpowering" (although he likes cherry blossom)

i also feel like jouno would like someone with longer hair. he likes running his hands through it or playing with it :)

Fyodor

he likes anyone who will shut up and sit down to obey his order <3

i'm only partially joking here. he would need someone who will typically submit to him

^doesn't mind pushback once in awhile tho. likes the debates that come up if you question or disagree with him

fyodor would like someone who is very quiet, softspoken, and intelligent. the less friends you have, the better too!

^wants you all the himself lol. if you're very introverted, he won't have to worry about you getting close to anyone else as much (did someone say...possessive...)

does want someone who is close to his intellect but doesn't match it. he wants to be able to teach you things and feel superior

don’t bash me here BUT i think fyodor would like a woman who fits that “trad wife” stereotype. like just chills at home and does housework for him. he tends to neglect taking care of himself and his surroundings so he appreciates if you care for him in that way

i also believe fyodor would be drawn to someone who's style resembles his own. i have a very distinct image of a woman with dark hair, elegant clothing, dark makeup

another one who appreciates if you put a lot of time into your appearance

immense bonus points if you're also russian or can speak the language

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @exorcisedstraydog @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @dreaming-of-ambedo @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss @thescrunkly @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster

[manmuncher777]

i feel Nanami's type is either Megan thee stallion (generally anyone that's curvy) orrrr someone who's the complete opposite 🤷 you're sooo cute btw

oh my gosh!! my first nonnie!!! Hi my love, thank you for being my first ;). You’re even cuter, don’t get me started 😝

I totally get you vision for Nanami. so why not write both? (All body types are beautiful, I hope my writing can reflect that for everyone. Please feel free to share if you felt I represented something wrongly!❤️)

Curvy

Being a curvy woman had its ups and downs. One of the down being your heavy fucking tits, that constantly caused your back to ache, however. One massive fucking positive was that your husband was Obsessed with them.

“Back ache again darling?” he drawled, coming up behind you, hands resting at your hips.

“Yeah Ken, not great today.”

“Let me hold them for you sweetheart..” And that sweet tone of his did nothing to hide the lust on his face. The pure adoration as he shamelessly let his eyes travel down towards your cleavage as you faced him.

“Really Ken?” you asked him, quizzical look on your face.

“Really baby, let me make you feel better.”

Hands hands soon replacing your bra as He cupped your tits. you were sat on your couch with him, relaxing that evening while his huge hands took the weight of your tits off your back. you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel amazing. Like a weight had been lifted. literally. Your back already feeling better. But you didn’t miss the movement of his fingers. Every now and then his thumb swiping over the cushiony skin of your nipples. His eyes watching Your breatss, not the moving you are so engrossed it. He loved the way they looked in his hands. so pretty

He also loved your ass. Fucking hell. Any form fitting clothing had him foaming at the mouth, nothing was going to stop his from resting a possessive hand on the skin when you went out together. You could be going grocery shopping, simple pair of jeans on, and he’s gripping the fat of your ass. As if it were completely natural to him. When you wore a skirt. god he wanted you sat on his lap. never leaving.

and those form fitting dresses you liked to wear, shapely legs strutting along. You were tall, and kento loved it. He loved watching yo, just admiring you from a far. it was never just about your body, but god did he love it

not curvy

To kento. You were everything. But your body was just a bonus to him.

You had always had insecurities, perhaps you were a bit more lacking in certain departments. But to Kento, you were perfection

He loved your tits, so pretty and perky. The way you would wear a backless dress so easily, showing off that extra bit of skin that had him biting his lip as he watched you. The way your nipples perked so easily, he especially loved when you went braless. being able to see the perked skin through the material of your shirt, it had him staring like a pervert.

“Ken I need to go clothes shopping again soon, want to join”

“of course my love, why do you need to go clothes shopping, you only went last week?”

“I need some new bras, my others are a bit old now.” you mentioned absentmindedly, not seeing how your husbands eyes were currently glued to your tits. Your braless tits.

“just go braless forever. you know it’s my favourite” He says, stalking towards you as his hands trace over your clothed boobs. Not missing the way your nipples perked under his touch.

Your ass was another favourite also. the way it fit so perfectly in his hand, the way it complimented your figure so perfectly. He loved watching you move, the way those short little skirts fitted you, god it was like he was seeing an angel. Nanami didn’t need bold curves to love your body. besides, he was instead drawn to balance of your figure, the way your clothes highlighted your stunning legs, how nice they looked in a pair of heals. He wanted every inch of your skin to be covered in his marks