#I tried being more lose with my painting here

[sapphos-ruwumate]

A little treat for myself :3 I love drawing Finn and backgrounds like this!

She is probably waiting to go out with friends but it's still like 10 min left and she totes has time to put on nice clothes

[veritasangel]

comforting love

ft. Price, Soap, Gaz, Simon

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: none {wc: 778} ༄ I just love sweet tf141

Thinking about being Price's wife and the rest of the guys just love you. Honestly they adore you before even meeting you, just glad the Captain’s found someone that makes him gush like a teenager just talking about you to them.

And then when they meet you, they totally get the way he acts now. You were so sweet, even bringing them all personalised care packages based on things Price had told you about them. You had said you were bringing Price one and felt bad leaving his boys out, especially when they all probably missed home whilst at base.

For some, it was a cute gesture, one not too unfamiliar. But to Simon, receiving something made with such care from someone was foreign.

He thanked you and tried to act indifferent but as soon as he was in the barracks, he was studying everything inside. Some much needed snacks and drinks, a small cute hand painted cartoon ghost figure typical as well as a new journal and a fancy pen that he had no idea how to use. Price must’ve told you he’d began journaling to help his thoughts.

Everyone managed to move on pretty quickly from the thoughtful gifts they received but Simon really cherished it. He ended up having a heart to heart with Price one evening about it after one too many drinks, a few tears even making an appearance, that he claimed was allergies.

A night that Price told you about, the memory of it surfacing as you visited the base again and as you greeted them all, Simon just gave you a really long and silent hug. You didn’t know exactly what he was thinking, but you let him have this moment and he was grateful for it.

Then there was Gaz. Typical sweetheart. Always complimenting you, a kiss to your hand here and there, maybe even a friendly kiss on the cheek, earning a chuckled “Don’t try and steal my missus.” from Price. 

And when you returned a compliment one time, he couldn’t find any words for a good few minutes, cheeks burning hot before clearing his throat and mumbling an almost shy, slightly inaudible thank you. 

He’s always asking Price how things are with you and what you’ve been up to when the group doesn't see you for a while. 

He jokes that he can live vicariously through Price and hoping one day he can find someone as sweet as you. And when you hear about this, you’re tempted to set Gaz up with a friend of yours but Price convinces you that it’s an awful idea so you refrain.

And of course Gaz sends you flowers for valentines day along with a sweet note and a thank you for keeping their beloved Captain happy.

“How big was the bouquet?” John asks,

“I don’t know, normal size?” you question,

“Not bigger than mine?” he adds,

“No.”

“Good, can’t have Gaz upstaging me like that.” 

And of course, Soap. Shameless flirting right from the start and awful cheesy jokes on top of that. He was exactly the way Price described him, if not amplified about a thousand times more in person.

“I mean ma name’s John too, I’m like basically halfway to being your husband anyway.”

The guys appreciated his jokes but they could only hear them for so long before losing their mind. So when you were on base, he was running through every joke and story in his head so he could hear actual genuine laughter at his humour.

And by the end he was definitely addicted to the sound, a tiny bit jealous that Price gets to hear it so often, even if he would never admit it.

“So for her birthday, I was thinking we could get the second instalment of that book she loves.” Soap says with a grin.

“I know what to buy my wife Soap, I’ve got it covered.”

“Alright, well I know the lass well enough now to give you great suggestions, you should listen.” Soap mumbles as he adds the book to his basket, followed by a few more, earning a pointed stare from Price.

When you were visiting Price on base, you gave all of the guys a home away from home and they all appreciated you massively.

You visited for your husband of course, but you got to know them all, looking out for them as well. Making them feel loved even when you didn’t need to.

“So when do we get to see our girl-” Soap begins,

“My girl.” Price interrupts with a warning stare.

“Our girl.” Gaz repeats Soap's words.

“Yeah. They’re both right, Cap'n. Our girl.” Simon adds.

༄ cod m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Stick Around

~1.2k words

Jason Todd is your best friend. But sometimes you're not sure if you're his.

"Back off. I can stitch it myself." He nearly barks at you when you press the towel to his bleeding wound.

"Come on, Jason. Why can't I help?" You ask, trying to keep the worry and pleading from your voice.

"I don't want you to." He says, firm and flat as he pulls away, dragging the towel and the first aid kit with him. He doesn't go very far, but you have a sinking feeling that's more owed to the bathroom being small than him wanting to stay near you.

You shift on your feet, torn between listening– respecting his boundaries or stepping closer to help. You take a step, unable to stay away from him when his lips curl into a frown as he starts stitching his own wound.

"Let me. I know how. You taught me." You try again, careful and soft like you're the one that terrifies the worst of Gotham.

"I said no. Just give me some space." He tells you, hands working steadily to piece his skin back together. You vaugley wonder how many times he's done this alone.

Then his words register. You can't stop your face from crumbling. "You want me to leave?"

He doesn't look up, doesn't respond, too engrossed in his injury.

You nod a little, more to yourself than him as you scoot around him, avoiding brushing any part of him as you slip out the bathroom door. Hesitating, you quietly close the door behind you and linger in the hallway, unsure. How much space did he want? Was he upset with you? Did he want you to leave the apartment?

You let out a sigh and slowly head for the apartment door. You can stay at friends tonight. Stuffing down the emotions welling in your chest, you grab your jacket and start to shove your shoes on.

"Where are you going?" A sharp tone cuts you out of your self pity.

"You told me to leave?" You question, gaze snapping to him.

He stands there, hand over the gauze wrapped on his side and studies you. "No."

"No?" You echo, slowly lowering your coat.

"I only– I didn't want you to get any blood on you. Or see me like that. I don't want you to leave. Why would I ever not want to see you?” He says with a scoff, stepping closer to pull you away from the door, glaring at it like it personally offended him. “You’re the only person I want to be around, it’s maddening, I don’t know why anyone else even tries to speak to me when I can’t get my mind off of you-“

He shudders, like a huge weight has left his shoulders, words cutting off. He presses a kiss against your skin, without thinking, his mouth finding the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, pulling you tight against him. "I want you to stay here. With me." He murmurs against your skin before pulling back just enough to see your face.

"Oh." You fall quiet for a moment, looking anywhere but him as you start to speak again, fighting the heat that threatens to take over your face, "I don't mind. Blood, I mean. Not if I'm helping you."

He can't stop the smile that comes to his face, always so easy and present around you.

Jason reaches out, his fingers touching your chin, gently tapping it, to make you look at him. “Do you still think I don’t want you here? That I don’t want you around?” he asks, voice low.

You waver, eyes trailing back to his. "Well, no, I mean, I know you want me around."

"Good." He says softly, fingers lingering on your skin, on your face, on your waist. It makes you feel wanted, needed, safe.

The moment is so soft, so warm and inviting you want to lose yourself in it. But it feels like a lie to let yourself stay in it. Not when he's all you ever seem to want. When you dream of the color of his eyes and the feeling of his skin against yours. "Are you feeling dizzy? Need to sit down?" You ask, cutting the moment, the feeling that it could be something more, short.

He hums softly, like he expected your avoidance. "You don't have to run from me."

That makes you blink, surprise painting your features. "I'm not running. I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh please, there's so many things I know you've been holding out on me." He laughs a little before kissing your neck and whispering into your ear. "You wanted me way before I knew it was okay to admit wanting you. And now I'm going to make up for all that lost time." He looks at you with an intention you can feel behind his eyes. "There's nothing I won't do for you, nothing that I won't give you because you deserve the world and more." He kisses your forehead and smiles down at you softly as he sighs your name. "So don't run."

That makes your brain short circuit. And then the flood of scrambled thoughts overtake your mind. He knows you want him? Of course he does– He's one of the greatest detectives in the world, maybe even the universe. Why did you think you could hide it? How long has he known? But one thought persists above the rest. He wants you to?

Jason gently taps your hip, dragging your attention from the frantic jumble of questions in your head. "Focus on me. Not whatever's going on in your head. I don't need an answer right now. I just want you to be here." He says your name like it's precious, a treasure to keep close. "Please."

You nod slowly, trying to calm your pounding heart, to get your body to listen to you and answer him or touch him or anything.

"I could just kiss you right here. I could do that. You know, just take advantage of the situation? How you can't seem to believe that I want you. But..." he tilts his head, running his thumb along your jaw, "I want to kiss you when I know you're ready. For you to want it as badly as I do, pretty."

"What if I do?" You ask quietly, scared to break the tension building around the two of them. "What if I want to kiss you, Jason?"

"Yeah?" he whispers, his fingers finally gripping your hair, his thumb lightly caressing your neck. His eyes are locked on yours, and all the emotions that seem to be swirling around inside him right now are all concentrated on one, simple thing: keeping you.

"Yeah." You echo, just as quiet and soft as his voice.

He doesn't ask again, doesn't hesitate, just kisses you with the desperation of years of built of tension and longing glances. He kisses you like you're worth something, and you are. You're everything to him, and he now that he has you like this, he won't let a day pass without reminding you.

Your fingers curl in his shirt, his hand tightens in your hair and everything else seems to fade away when you deepen the kiss. Jason Todd is your best friend. And you're starting to believe that you're more than just that to him.

[zaldritzosrose]

Lose Control (Aegon x Niece!Reader)

Summary: Aegon knew it would never work. But did he care? Of course not. You were one of few members of his family who didn't look at him like he was a failure. Was it love? He didn't know. But he never felt whole without you.

(Based on Lose Control by Teddy Swims)

TW: She/Her pronouns, canon-typical incest (uncle x niece), afab reader, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi-public, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 2,985

kēlītsos = little cat, kitten

I apologise now, but this isn't a 'happy' ending.

Something's got a hold of me lately. No, I don't know myself anymore.

You were off limits, Aegon knew that. The fact had been drilled into him by his mother time after time. His niece, the only one who looked at him with some modicum of love or affection. He didn’t know if you felt the same, but he could pretend every time you would smile at him, or your hands would linger against his just a moment longer than needed.

But how could he not want you? You were beautiful. He didn’t care about the rumours that surrounded your parentage. Those dark curls, eyes so brown they could be mistaken for black. All the things that people used to paint you a bastard, he found to be the most beautiful things in the world.

His thoughts were consumed by you, even when you weren’t around. Everything reminded him of you.  The more he thought of you, the more he remembered he couldn’t have you and the further he sank into his cups. 

The day you left for Dragonstone with your mother had broken him beyond belief. Wine and whores barely fill the void you left behind.

Feels like the walls are all closin' in. And the devil's knockin' at my door, whoa… Out of my mind, how many times. Did I tell you I'm no good at bein' alone?

Aegon stumbled back into his chambers. The third night this week that he’d spent drowning his sorrows in some dingy tavern. Word had come that your mother was returning to King’s Landing with you and your brothers. The petitions for the seat at Driftmark were to be heard, and your brother Lucerys’ claim was being questioned.

Aegon would see you again, and it terrified him. 

He was embarrassed of the kind of man he’d become in your absence. A drunk, chasing whatever skirt he could. Fear set in, knowing you’d see him like this.

The morning of your return had come, but Aegon couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed. He was a mess in so many ways. The scent of wine still lingered on his breath and skin from the night before. Sun streamed in through his window, and he quickly sunk back under his sheets.

But his peace was short lived, the door to his chambers slamming open and the harsh words of his mother filling the room. Aegon groaned, it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time his mother would ever berate him this way. But he was in no mood for it.

The sound of her admonishments faded to muffled noise as Aegon tried to rub the sleep from his features. But his actions seemed to only antagonise her more. Heavy limbs rolled from his bed, gripping the sheet around his body as he stood.

His mother’s tirade stopped at his movement, her words faltering.

“I will not apologise, for it falls on deaf ears. Now if you don’t mind, I fear I require a bath.” 

Aegon grumbled, wanting nothing more than to escape Alicent’s harsh words.

He ignored anything else that came from her lips, walking away and towards his thankfully, already filled bath.

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

You didn’t want to be here. None of your memories of the Red Keep were particularly fond. Well, save for a few. The times spent with your uncle, Aegon, would always bring a smile to your face when you thought of them. When he would sneak to your chambers, cakes in hand, demanding you come to the gardens with him. Why?

Because he missed you.

Back then, you thought little of it, simply thinking your uncle was being kind, as an uncle should be. But when you think of those moments now? Heat filled your belly and a blush bloomed on your cheeks. The evenings spent curled up next to him beneath a tree in the royal gardens, lips sticky from the cakes he always brought, his arms wrapped tight around you and your head on his chest. Those moments had seemed so innocent then.

The reactions of your mother told you now, that they were not. The way your mother had demanded you stop sneaking out in the evenings with him – how spending time alone with any boy in such a way was unbecoming. 

But Aegon was the only one who didn’t tease you about your dark hair and eyes – you knew the rumours well enough. Instead, he told you how pretty you were. Comparing your eyes to embers and your hair to the finest chocolate. 

Now, you stood at Jace’s side, listening to your mother talk to some lord or another. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to sneak off to find Aegon.” Jace whispered, only earning an eye roll from you. Your brother was one of few aware of just how much time you had once spent with Aegon.

Luckily for you, he’d never told your mother. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, the moment she’d forbade you from spending time with your uncle, you had stopped. Instead, you had simply hidden your meetings better. Swearing your brother to secrecy when he caught you one night.

You ignored Jace’s comment because no answer you gave would keep that smirk off his face. Finally, after what seemed like the longest time, your mother turned and gave you and your brothers permission to spend some time to yourselves before the petitions. You didn’t miss the sideways glance Jace gave you as you hurried away.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

He was washed, dressed, the alcohol feeling like it was seeping out of his skin as he wandered through the corridors. He had no destination in mind, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his bed. But he also had no desire to listen to another of his mother’s verbal lashings against him . And even more so, he was terrified of seeing you.

Would you hate him as he is now? Would you be embarrassed of him?

Aegon was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him, his eyes trained solely on the stone floor before him. So, when he collided with the soft form of another person, he was knocked near off balance. As he scrambled to stay upright, he was greeted with a very familiar head of deep brown waves.

“Uncle?” 

Your voice. A voice he had imagined hearing time and time again for the past six years. But when you said his name, he finally met your gaze. The faintest of smiles finding his lips, while his eyes remained just a little glazed from the wine he’d already consumed.

You were here. You were here and you were as beautiful as ever. The deep red of your gown makes those warm curls even deeper in colour. It was only when he felt your hand on his arm that he realised he hadn’t spoken a word.

“Do I render you speechless still?” you smiled; your hand rested on his forearm.

“Always, kēlītsos.” He smiled, watching you blush at the name.

Kitten, so called for the way you always used to curl up next to him, safe under his arm. A sweet name that now had your cheeks hot. It was the way he said it, voice lower than you remembered. But you could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath, and you now realised that the stories of his love of alcohol were true.

Six years had changed you both in more ways than one.

Problematic. Problem is I want your body like a fiend, like a bad habit. Bad habits hard to break when I'm with you.

Aegon hadn’t paid attention to a single word spoken during the petitions. He could care less about who inherited Driftmark. His eyes never left you. He didn’t care who saw him staring. He didn’t care if you saw him staring. Seeing you again had awoken every feeling for you he’d once had. And then some. 

He’d ignored his mother when she demanded he leave the wine alone. He couldn’t handle court sober, never mind having to stay away from you. Now, the room swayed just a little, but the fog on his brain was a welcome distraction from you.

The petitions had gone as well as expected – if seeing Lord Vaemond beheaded was expected. The whole family was on edge, but Aegon was comfortably in a wine induced calm.

So, when you walked in, arms linked with Jace, he had little control of the expression on his face. Disgust at the sight of you so close to your brother, a closeness that had once been reserved for only him. He filled his cup again, no amount of wine in the world would likely make him feel better now.

You sat in the only available seat, between Jace and Aegon. You tried to catch your uncle’s gaze, but he seemed to be looking anywhere but at you and it made you feel ever so slightly hurt. Had you done something to upset him?

Problematic. Problem is when I'm with you, I'm an addict.

The supper ended swiftly the moment your brother hit Aemond, provoked of course. The two princes had never been close. You stood with your mother; fists clenched as you watched Aegon pin Luke to the table. There was no love lost between the uncles and nephews, but seeing Aegon treat Luke that way infuriated you.

You stormed from the hall, ignoring the shout of your mother. It was only then that Aegon released Luke, shoving the boy away and drunkenly hurrying after you.

He’d fucked up and he knew it. 

He could hear the clack of your boots on the stones, and he knew where you’d be going. The gardens. Your haven, one you once shared with him.

“I don’t appreciate being followed, uncle.” you called out, stopping just short of the entrance to the garden. 

Aegon was quick to stop behind you, the wine making him unsteady. But he wasn’t going to miss this chance to have you alone.

“You are drunk, Aegon.” 

The accusation, while true, hurt coming from you. Embarrassment flooded him as he tried to find an excuse. But the words went silent on his tongue. He was drunk, yes, but not as drunk as you seemed to think he was.

“It is a common occurrence for you now, I hear. Wine and whores?” Your voice wasn’t as angry as he expected, but having you know such things about him made him sick.

“Nothing more than distractions for a life that is quite tedious.” Aegon replied, doing his best to hold your gaze, blue meeting brown for the first time truly in six years.

“And what makes your life so tedious, I am sure there are many who would revel in the life of a prince.” You answered, turning to continue your walk to the garden, knowing he would follow.

And follow he did, wanting nothing more now than to be in your presence. A presence he’d missed. A presence he’d craved for six years. Even if you seemed frustrated.

“You know exactly what…” he snapped back, the wine loosening his tongue just a little. There was a chance this would be the last time he’d see you, knowing the state of the family, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.

“Six years without you, kēlītsos, has been a very long time.” 

You stiffened at that. Was he blaming his problems on you? You stopped dead, turning on your heel to face him, watching as he stumbled when he stopped short of colliding with you.

“And you think it has been easy on me?” Your words came out quieter than you thought, your anger failing as you saw the sadness in his eyes, eyes that had once seemed so bright now seemed sallow and hollow.

“I did not want to leave. My home is here, with you.”

Aegon froze, chewing on the skin of his lip. Any anger he’d felt slipped away almost instantly. You hadn’t wanted to go. Those words sparked the smallest ember of hope in him. Maybe, just maybe, you felt as he did.

“I have spent every moment of those six years missing you.”

He heard nothing else, the wine in his belly fuelling his emotions beyond his control. His rough hands finding your cheeks, pulling you to him as he kissed you. The kiss was messy but reciprocated. Mere seconds passed before you curled a hand into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him tight against you. A kiss filled with years of love, passion… and lust. Aegon’s hands moved from your cheeks to your waist, pressing his body against yours as he backed you towards a nearby wall. Thankfully the gardens were quiet in the evenings.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, remembering quickly that Aegon had been drinking. As had you, but Aegon had consumed far more than you had.

“You are drunk, Aegon…” 

“Not so much that I am unable to think clearly.” He replied, wanting nothing more than to kiss you again.

His hands played with the fabric of your gown, keeping your body pinned between his and the wall. He couldn’t let you go, not now. Not without knowing if you felt as he had all this time.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will go.” He whispered, his forehead now resting against yours.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t because it would be easier down the line. Easier to lie and break his heart now than be truthful and have to leave him again. But you did. By the gods, you did. While you’d loved him for longer than you could remember, love was not on your mind at this moment.

“I want this…I want you. I always have.” Your breath fanned across his lips as you spoke, body inching closer on instinct. 

Aegon closed the distance, his kiss gentle though his hands now gripped your waist hard. The red fabric now fisted tight in his hands as he slipped his thigh between your own. Your body responded naturally, heat flooding you as his lips slid down to your jaw then your neck. He knew he couldn’t go so far as to take your virtue, but he needed something.

And I need some relief, my skin in your teeth. Can't see the forest through the trees. Got me down on my knees, darlin' please, oh…

Your breath hitched as he bunched your gown in his hands, fingers pressed against the fabric of your small clothes. A touch you’d only dreamt about. Wondering what it would feel like to have him touch you so intimately.

The reality had your mouth dry and your flesh searing. Hips canting to meet the deft movements of his fingers. His face buried in your neck as you sighed out in pleasure. You shouldn’t be doing this, and you knew it. All you could focus on was pleasure, not right and wrong. Your own hand soon found the hard length in the front of his breeches, palming him slowly.

Aegon wanted nothing more than to feel you. To commit those soft sounds to memory. To feel your skin on his.

“Aegon…” you breathed, your hands finding the mess of silver waves atop his head.

His name had never sounded so perfect, and he wanted to hear it again. His hands kept a grip on your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ignoring the confused glance you shot down to him. You soon had your answer when his nose brushed against the fabric of your small clothes, his hand gripping your thigh as he lifted it over his shoulder.

“What are you-“ your words fell silent as he mouthed at you through your undergarments, his name a moan falling from your lips.

Your hand found his hair again, wanting nothing more than for him to keep going. And when his fingers tugged the fabric aside, bearing your flesh to him, all sense was lost.

“So delicious, my sweet girl,” he cooed, licking a hot stripe between your folds.

No man had ever touched you this way, and you wanted no other man but Aegon to touch you this way again. A dream, of course, but one you wanted so desperately. And he lapped at you like a man starved, groaning against your skin at the taste of you, the sound enough to have pleasure shooting up your spine.

And soon the knot in your belly snapped, hands tightening in his hair as you panted his name. Aegon only stopped his ministrations when you pushed him away. With a final kiss to your inner thigh, he stood.

“You are mine, kēlītsos, and you always have been.”

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

Morning had come. You didn’t remember returning to Aegon’s chambers but that was where you woke. Wrapped in his arms and feeling safer than ever. It would not last. It never did. Shouts from outside the door told you that. And the door crashing open, revealing the furious face of your mother made it crystal clear to Aegon.

You were off limits. He knew that. He’d hoped it would change. But when morning came, the harsh words directed at you by your mother told you it never would. And his dreams become nightmares as you leave him again.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

[fruittt-punchhh]

hey! MDNI, filthy smut ahead!! just a lil toji x fem!reader drabble. cw: smut, pet names, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, etc.

call me crazy and depraved but Toji is def obsessed with your stomach??? whether it’s flat and muscular or soft and squishy and hangs over the hem of your jeans or anything in between??

like you know he loves grabbing it when you’re cuddling, pulling you closer into him as he falls asleep. and when you feel shitty, he’s quick to come up behind you, kissing your neck and rubbing your belly as he tries not to let his hands explore further south.

oh and when you’re fucking?!!?!? jesus christ, he loves teasing your folds before he’s laying his heavy cock on your stomach, admiring just how deep he’d be when he’s finally ruining your guts. he pushes down hard on your stomach where he left a spot of precum, moaning as he says, ”think you can take all of me, hmm? gonna feel my cock all the way up here,” emphasizing the grip he had on your waist while he pushes his two thumbs into you even harder, surely leaving a bruise behind.

of course Toji loved a nice pair of tits and a big ass, and he loved your plush thighs to go along with the rest of your heavenly figure. but when you got ready for a date and put on the new bodycon dress he got you, he thought he might fall to his knees and eat every inch of you right then and there. seeing how perfectly the dress hugs your curves, and more importantly, accentuates your cute tummy, has him losing himself.

and we all know he loves fucking into you with your legs over his shoulders all mean and aggressive, rightly claiming that which belongs to him. pushing his hand down hard like the bastard he is on the soft flesh above your navel. asking, “you like that, huh? feel me all. in. here. right?”, he says, enunciating each word with a hard thrust into your addicting heat, “take all these fuckin’ inches like the slut you are,” he commands.

and his favorite thing of all is to paint your insides white, breeding your deep pussy by giving you all of his cum, forcing you to keep it in with two thick fingers plugging your hole. he keeps you stuck there, squirming for him as he kisses and bites on the fat of your tummy. “stop movin’ so much, ma’, m’tryna’ give you my babies. won’t work if you push it all out,” he says, watching as you bite your lip, loving the feeling of being stuffed full of nothing but him.

he can’t help but cum inside every time you two lay together, obsessed with putting another stupid brat in you. he wanted to watch your tummy swell with his seed and your tits get all plump and sensitive as you grow his child so well for him. (although he absolutely did not want another brat and this was purely his sick imagination at play)

he pulls his fingers out, making you whine at the lack of his warmth. he smirks, looking up at you, “nah, go ahead and push it out for me, baby. lemme see how much of a mess I made in that pretty cunt, please.” Toji isn’t much of a beggar, but when it came to you he was more than willing to ask for what he wanted.

“I’ll just be puttin’ another baby in you soon anyway, right doll?”

[dreamofjoys]

— CHARGES

Synopsis: The Chief Justice of Fontaine would like to press charges against you for making him break his own principles

C/W: afab, smut, 4.0 archon quest spoilers, public sex, unprotected sex, spanking, you call him your honour, begging, he calls you doll, fingering

A/N: I told myself not to write genshin fics but this man just took my whole breath away

"Do you know why you are here?" Neuvillette's mint breath fan over your ear, hips bucking up to push his lengthy girth back into your hole. "N-no, your honour." You couldn't stop the string of wanton moans that fell out of your lips as Neuvillette fucks you roughly, folding you into half just to get better access to your pussy. You nearly screamed when his dick hits on a spongy soft spot in your pussy that has you seeing stars.

Sensing that it was your weak spot, the chief judge continues to abuse that spot, punctuating each thrust in a slow yet hard manner. "I am pressing charges against you," the judge finally speaks, flipping you onto your back with his dick still rock hard inside you. "for making me break my own principles." You yelped when you felt a sharp vertical pain on your butt. Looking back at Neuvillette with teary eyes, you realised that he was spanking you with the cane that he carries around whenever he holds trials to establish order.

"Neuvi, it hurts." A tear fell from your eye as your butt burns in pain. Neuvillette's heart swooned when he hears the nickname. "Oh, but does this hurt?" you moaned when his dick moves again to kiss your cervix. "I-I like this one more, Neuvi. Pl-please don't hit me with that." You tried your very best to give a pitiful puppy dog eye, even pushing your lower lips out to look more pitiful. However, such mere tricks does not work on the judge who has been delivering sentence on a daily basis, especially if it's one that is of high status.

"Doll, didn't you hear what I say just now?" One of his hand reaches down to rub circles on your clit, playing with the bundles of nerves like a fidget toy. "I am going to press charge against you. Reason being? You made me break my own principles." His slim yet long fingers join his member in to stretch your pussy hole, making you moan in delight at the feeling of being stuffed full. You move your hips up and down, bouncing on his cock and fingers to chase your high.

Neuvillette could feel his usually composed aura falling down. He grabs you by your breast, lifting you up so that your back is finally pressed against his front.

"I am not like this," His dick now drills into your hole at an immensed speed while both of his hands has switched to fondle your breast. "We are in the High Court of Fontaine, where trials are held everyday. And yet here I am, ruining you on the very own chair that I sit to deliver those trials." You didn't care what he was saying, choosing to bounce on his dick like a slut, chasing after the high.

"Look at the scale, it's tipping towards my favour." Neuvillette grabs you by the chin to look at the large scale, the main source of power for delivering the final verdicts in all trials at Fontaine. "It's all because of you, that I have desires to take you on my seat, " you suck onto the fingers that Neuvillette had inserted into your mouth. " It's all because of you, that I am fucking you in this empty court," You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your gonna-

"It's all because I like you, that's why Im losing my composure everyday. The desire to claim you is greater than the desire to act like the proper Chief Judge."

You let out the sinnest mewl when the knot releases, milking the judge's coat like a waterfall. It wasn't long before you feel warm ropes of cum painting your walls, filling your womb with his seeds.

"You are definitely guilty, Y/N."

[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) such a bitch ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 김선우 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ sunoo getting tired of your attitude ヾ

nerd!sunoo・ meangirl!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ rough sex , degradation, unprotected sex‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. popular mean girl and is partnered with sunoo. realizes sun is hot af and tries to make a move on him thinking he's sub/innocent. plot twist: He's not and he ended up being the dom when they slept together.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it , mean dom noo is my favorite 😋

he tried barging with the other students; pleading to do their homework for them, hell he even offered money to anyone— anyone who would take you as their partner, but as he walked up to your huge house , ringing the doorbell , he wondered what he did in his past life to deserve this.

“she's upstairs.” your maid said; sunoo nodded. “careful , she's in a bit of of mood.” when are you ever not in a mood? he made his way up to your room, your door was open. “don't just stand there and look stupid , come in.” he came in , holding his bag. “sit.”

you pointed to your bed; he sat down. “you're late.” he lowered his head. “i-im sorry i got caught up.” you scoffed. “i didn't ask , let's just get this over with so you can leave.” he wanted nothing more than to leave. “o-okay.”

you sat back watching him do the work , picking at your fingernails , texting the idiot you called you once called your boyfriend. “fucking dumbass!” sunoo jumped , hearing you toss your phone across the room , that motivated him to go faster with the project.

you watched him work , taking in his features, he wasn't bad to look at. “you a virgin?” you spoke up. “h-huh?” he stuttered at the sudden inappropriate question; you smirked , dry laughing. “of course you are , who'd fuck you?” he gulped , still trying to focus on the work. “you're not that bad if you look past the shabby close and the glasses.” you said running your fingers through his hair. “st-stop please.”

“why? don't tell me this turning you on little mouse?” your red paint bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you tease him. “please don't call me that,” he said. “i guess it is.” you smirked , running your manicure nails down the back of his neck , you saw him shift. “i'll fuck you.” you said so directly. “i-im okay.” he said , slowly losing his composure. “why not , it's not like anyone else is willing to fuck you.”

his finally straw is when you reached for his pants button. “i said stop.” he grabbed your hand. “let my hand go.” you gritted through your teeth , “i swear i will kill you loser.” throwing his stuff to the floor , pushing you on the bed, grabbing your hand pinning them above your head. “why are you such a bitch?”

he was straddling your waist , pinning your legs down. “i didn't want to be here in the first place , just wanted to get this stupid project done and get out of this house but i can't because you're too busy being a slut to pay attention.” he spat at you. “fuck you.” you hissed. “yeah i bet you do.”

you had to admit the way he was talking to you turned you on , the wetness in between your legs becoming unbearable. “you want me to fuck you?” he said. “i'll fuck you , and then afterwards you sit the fuck down and help me finish this project so i can leave.” he grabbed your cheeks. “understand.”

you nodded , and he got off of you , taking his pants down , pulling your shorts down. “spread your legs.” slotting himself in between your legs , dragging his cock along your folds. “so wet.” you were surprised at how big he was , he was full of surprises. “so desperate, it's embarrassing.” he pushed himself inside. “fuck!”

he wasn't gentle either; in fact his pace was rather brutal , holding your neck as he plunged into you. “fuck!” he hissed. “for a whore , you're pretty right.” you whined. “n-not a whore.” hia grip on your neck tightening. “yeah?” he said. “then why are you begging for my dick while you're in a suppos relationship? only a whore would do that.” he pounded into you. “such a bitch to everyone.” he cursed , slapping your already abused cunt.

pulling out of you , flipping you on your stomach , lifting your lower half up into a arch , before pushing back into you , slapping your ass. “fuck! gonna cum.” you screamed , he kept pounding into you. “i shouldn't even let you cum.” you cried out. “no please , please.” you begged. “shut the fuck up.” he slapped your ass again. “i'll let you cum , but you better hurry -fuck- because im about to cum all over your back , after i cum i don't care if you don't.”

you felt the knot in your stomach snapping legs shaking as you came , yelling his name as he continued to fuck you. “fuck im cumming.” he pulled out of you, stroking his cock until he came on your ass. “sh-shit.” your body worn out on the bed as he got dressed. “look at you fucked out.” he scoffed.

“clearly we aren't gonna get anything done , we'll continue tomorrow , and this time you come to my house and without the attitude.”

©LUVYENI

[steddieasitgoes]

i wanna be close to you

written for @steddie-week Day 3 prompt: Longing/Mutual Pining Rating: T | wc: 1825 | no cw special thank you to @sidekickjoey for beta-ing this at the last minute (and my day 1 one too because I forgot to mention it on the post!) Read on ao3

The smell of chlorine lingers on their skin. 

Eddie’s hair is a tangled mess, partly from the hours spent horsing around in the pool with the kids and partly because that’s just its default state. He claims it’s for proper curl maintenance, but Steve has a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t like the way a brush or comb feels working through the tangles.  

They’re lying on the roof of Steve’s house. It’s not the smartest of ideas — what with the handful of beers and joint or two they’ve shared in the hours since the kids rode their bikes home — but he can’t deny that it’s nice. There’s an evening breeze chasing off the humid summer heat as the sun sets in the distance. Soon, they’ll be plunged into darkness, with nothing but the dim stars above them and the distant streetlights to keep them visible. 

Steve’s counting down the moments until the darkness overtakes them, until he doesn’t have to worry about Eddie rolling over and spotting the flush that’s spread from the tips of his ears all the way down to his newly pierced belly button (that’s the last time he makes an Uno bet with Robin, that cheater). Until the moment when Eddie won’t be bathed in warm yellows and oranges from the setting sun like some painting that belongs in a museum. 

It’s quiet up here, aside from Eddie’s restless fingers tapping on the tiles of the roof beside him.  Two short taps, another, then a drag, two short taps, three drags, three taps, and so on. It’s not steady like the usual beats he plucks out with his fingers, but he keeps repeating it over and over and over again. It’s a welcome noise, a nice distraction from Steve’s racing heart that he’s sure Eddie could hear if he wasn’t lost in his own thoughts. 

Steve’s never been in a situation like this before, lying so close to someone — thighs touching, hands practically pinned between their sides — and being unable to reach out and touch. 

Not in the way he wants to, at least. 

He wants his lips on Eddie’s. 

He wants to know what the slight stubble on his jaw would feel like against his cheek.

He wants to chart every scar, every imperfection, every tattoo with his hands and then his lips. Maybe even his tongue and teeth. 

He craves to know what it feels like to have Eddie’s weight on top of him and what his warm eyes will look like when he’s the one hovering over him. 

He wants other things, too. 

More moments like this for one, the two of them perfectly content in the stillness of the night. And more moments like earlier, where the noise reached questionable levels as they goofed around with the kids. 

He wants to cook Eddie breakfast, even if it takes him three tries to get the eggs right because he knows he’s picky about the consistency. He wants to hold his hand in public and not have to worry about what anyone is going to say about it. He wants Eddie to be the last person he sees when he goes to bed, and the first person when he wakes up.

He wants and wants and wants, and Steve is used to getting what he wants.

But, Eddie is a want he can’t have. 

It’s too risky. Maybe, if it was just their relationship at stake, Steve would be brave enough to curl his finger around Eddie’s tapping away beside him, give a little tentative touch to test the waters before he fully gives in to his desires. 

But it’s not just his relationship at stake. No, it’s the kids’ and Robin’s and Nance’s. Hell, even Joyce and Hopper’s relationship with Wayne would be muddled if Steve did something to make Eddie uncomfortable. 

He can’t risk it. 

They’ve lost too much over the years to risk losing a friend like Eddie, too. 

So, Steve resides himself to the longing deep in his bones and steals another quick glance at Eddie in all his glory beside him. 

He’s sitting up now, knees pulled up to his bare chest as he looks out into the darkness that’s spreading by the second. He wraps his restless arms around his legs, pillowing his head on the tops of his skinned knees. His eyelashes are long, fanning against his cheek with every slow blink. Eddie stays like that for a moment or two before he turns his head, squinting into the darkness of night until Steve comes into focus.

Steve watches as Eddie’s lips slowly twitch up into a smile that makes his entire body turn molten. It takes every muscle in Steve’s body to keep himself planted on the roof. Internally, he’s at war with himself — one side telling him to run, to dive inside the window to his bedroom and get as far away from Eddie as he can; the other side telling him to throw caution to the wind, close the distance, and go after what he wants just like he’s always done. 

He doesn’t do either. Instead, he pushes himself into a seated position until he’s mirroring Eddie, knees to his chest and his head turned in his direction, soaking in the quiet moment with his best friend. 

Steve’s gotten used to Eddie’s tapping on the roof, to the rustling of the trees in the evening breeze and the final chirps from the birds calling their flock to bed. To the occasional crackling of asphalt underneath worn tires as people come home from work.

Now, it’s quiet. 

Too quiet. 

Too still. 

Eddie doesn’t fidget. He barely even blinks, eyes too focused on Steve darting all around as if he’s trying to commit him to memory. He swears he notices Eddie’s cheeks turning pink — it’s subtle, but it’s there. He knows it is. 

Maybe he feels it too, Steve thinks, eyes closed as he muddles through the emotions swirling in his head. Maybe Eddie wants him, too.

When he opens them, Eddie’s still looking at him with those soft, warm eyes of his. Unwavering. He’s fully sitting up now, too, his head no longer buried in his folded arms over his knees.

His cheeks are still a rosy red color, and something inside Steve snaps at the little detail. His resolve weakens, his fingers itching to close the distance as his heart slows down for the first time since they clumsily climbed onto the roof. 

This is it, Steve thinks. If ever there was a moment to risk it all, it’s right now. 

“Hey, Ed—“ 

The words die on the tip of Steve’s tongue as Eddie kisses him. 

The world goes quiet; even his brain has hit the mute button, allowing him to focus on the press of his lips against Eddie’s. Unfortunately, that’s all it is. A chaste press of lips like middle school kids unsure of what the mechanics of a kiss look like beyond lip-to-lip contact.  

Just as Steve’s leaning in to deepen the kiss, Eddie pulls away. 

Steve watches as the moment registers in Eddie’s mind — his face going from a pleasant rosy red to scarlet in an instant. He fidgets beside him, desperately trying to get to his feet to make his great escape without rolling off the roof. 

It makes Steve nervous. 

So nervous, his hand moves on his own volition, wrapping around Eddie’s wrist to steady the man and his lanky limbs. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says in a rush. He shakes his head, tangled curls flying about haphazardly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t — fuck, I — I don’t know what I thought. I’m just —“ 

“Hey,” Steve calls, barely above a whisper because there’s no reason to yell. He reaches a tentative hand out and curls it underneath Eddie’s chin until he’s looking into those familiar brown eyes. “Don’t apologize. I wanted it, too. I want you.”

Steve's lips are on Eddie’s a moment later. It’s just as awkward, maybe even worse, and for a horrified second, he wonders if this is the universe’s way of saying that they don’t belong together. But then, Eddie’s kissing him back, and the world makes sense. 

It feels good — better than any kiss Steve’s ever had. The scratch of Eddie’s stubble against his cheek is perfect. Eddie’s lips are rougher than any girl he’s ever been with, sure, but Steve still loves it. It makes him feel less bad about grazing his bottom lip with his teeth until he’s pulling it, coaxing a gasp from Eddie that Steve takes advantage of immediately. 

They have to be careful —  way more careful than Steve wants to be right now — so they don’t go rolling off the roof, but they work with what they’ve got. Eddie’s hands settle on the backside of his neck, fingers curling into the strands at the base, pulling gently until Steve’s making his own embarrassing noises into the once quiet night. 

Steve never pulls away, breathing through his nose instead as his lips map the expanse of Eddie’s face — the curve of his lips, the dimple high on his cheekbone and down to the tender spot behind his ear. 

Eddie shifts, hands dropping until they’re resting on Steve’s bare thigh, dangerously close to the hem of his swim trunks. Steve feels himself twitch and as good as it feels, he really, really doesn’t want to do this on his roof where any one of his neighbors might see if they look out their windows. 

“Eddie,” Steve says, finally pulling his mouth away from his warm, inviting skin. “Fuck, Eddie. We can’t—“ Eddie’s face falls and Steve’s heart sinks to his feet as he starts rambling out an explanation. “We can. I mean, of course, we can. I want to. Just not here. Not on my roof—“ Pleased, Eddie resumes his touch, hands trailing closer and closer to the hem as his lips explore his neck now. Steve pants beside him, trying to control himself. “My room. Let’s move this to my room.” 

It’s not elegant in the slightest. The two of them push and shove their way through the small window, nearly getting stuck because they’re too impatient to take turns, but they manage to fall through the window and a second later onto Steve’s plush queen bed. And then they’re lost in each other, lips and hands, and it’s everything Steve thought it would be and somehow even better. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” Eddie whispers later when they’re settled in the sheets. He’s using Steve as a pillow, head rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. Steve’s got one hand in his hair, twirling a tangled lock between his fingers, the other wrapped around Eddie’s shoulder, holding him there just in case Eddie tries to run again. 

“Good.” Steve smiles, dipping his head down to press a kiss into the mess of curls. “I think I’m in love with you, too.” 

[sophiethewitch1]

congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo

Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.

Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he… well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!

Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.

Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?

Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?

Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.

Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.

Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.

[hotxcheeto]

Hiii 👋 i'm really obsessed with your writing 😳 so may i request a top!ellie x fem!reader smut where ellie wakes up in the middle of the night cause she has nightmares of losing the reader so she goes to the kitchen to get a drink and then cause the reader feels the bedside is empty the reader searches and finds ellie then they have a heartfelt conversation that turns into an emotional lovemaking session :,) all the angst, fluff, and smut combine 👍 we love that

━ 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, angst, tribbing, kissing and making out, mention of reader being dead ( in ellies dream ), talk of nightmares, very emotional love making, top/switch! ellie, bottom/switch!reader ( it lowkey varies but ellie does have more control ), idk this an emotional rollercoaster

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - i was feeling angsty after watch jjk and this just happened along with that. i love it, i love you ty for sending the request even tho it took me months!!

REBLOG MY WORK! I WORK HARD & IT'S APPRECIATED!!

There was something about you, that Ellie had never dared to bring up. A knack... per se.

She didn't wanna ruin it, or mess with the way you acted.

Whether consciously or subconsciously, you seemed to follow her.

The way you were never far behind at the bar or out and about in Jackson or seemingly always near her when she was moving around your shared home, you'd somehow have something you just needed to do right beside her.

In the kitchen? She could be eating while you were cleaning or rarely vice versa. Painting? You were beside her reading or playing with the cat you'd found on patrol that seemed to follow her all the same. Laying in bed? You were likely knocked out beside her or watching whatever movie she'd put on to keep herself busy.

Busy?

Busy... from thinking. Far too busy to listen to your ramblings sometimes, which you always seem to catch. Poking her cheek and knocking her from whatever bad dream that had caught her in the daylight.

She'd blink a few times while you chastised her for not listening, of course though, you knew why. You always seemed to know why. But she liked when you wouldn't mention it, it helped her forget easier.

But you couldn't always be awake when it happened, which is why she sat dead silent on the edge of the bed with her back to you.

Facing the door to the bedroom with dead cold eyes, not even the cat purring startled her from her still state. She always slept on the side closer to the door. Always.

There was something wrong with her, that's what she just kept thinking. You were so calm, so sweet, so... okay with what you'd gone through. Why couldn't she be the same? Not such a burden, like a child you'd care for, a needy mess you didn't sign up to clean.

It's all she could wonder while standing up from her spot on the mattress and creeping towards the door. Opening and leaving it ajar so as to not wake you with the click of the knob.

She chose her floorboards carefully, and each stair she stepped on, she picked a different spot. But nothing could keep you sleeping for much longer, eyes opening when you reached for an empty, yet warm, spot on the bed. A knack, she laughed, just a thing that came with love.

The cold water didn't soothe her, staring out the window at the empty field and the moon. Staring like it was staring right back, glass clutched in her grasp while her breathing stayed short and stuttered. A tickle in her throat, a choke here and there, a frown on her lips but no noise came out, no true sound passed her teeth.

Crying. She was crying.

Warm, salty tears dripping down her freckled flesh, skin cold and unwelcome. It was so different from yours, why did you like it so much?

When she'd love you, there was something about the way you touched her, caressed, if she willed. The way you so delicately danced your fingers across her shoulders while she tried her best to pleasure and please you.

But it'd been a long time since you'd made love, or even fucked for that matter. Unable to look you in the eyes for long, nor speak to you in extended sentences. You'd always give her a kiss, always.

Good morning, goodnight, goodbye.

Sometimes she'd hold your hand, but you had learned not to reach for it because sometimes it made her nervous.

For a while, she wouldn't change in front of you. Wouldn't turn her back because you'd see all the new scars, only letting you when you offered to bathe her. She cried though, when you did.

She loved you though, adored you, worshiped the ground you walked on because you were something incredible. A rare find amongst the normality and depravity.

A glistening pomegranate in a field of rotten tomatoes.

You were Persephone, and she? Only Hades.

"A bit early to be awake, hm?"

You sounded like a melody, even when exhausted. Your steps are so much lighter than hers could ever dream of, no wonder you snuck away in the mornings so easily to surprise her with breakfast when she'd had a bad night. But she never got to surprise you with breakfast, you were never up late crying into her arms or begging her not to leave.

Screaming at the air and clawing at yourself in your sleep.

"Couldn't go back to sleep." Her voice was cold, scratchy, like a broken record that couldn't speak correctly. "I guessed that..." You muttered, moving to stand by her side, looking out the window as well.

"There a unicorn out there or somethin'?" You asked softly, almost as if it was a genuine question, tilting your head before turning to look up at her. Eyes then flickering to the glass she was squeezing.

"No." You heard her, but didn't glance at her. Soft hands reaching up to take the cup away and set it beside the sink. She didn't put up a fight, she let you take it from her. Not like she needed it anyway.

"Hm... is there... anything special out there?" You stood in front of her, reaching up to her face this time, holding it though as if it was just as fragile as the glass you'd just held.

You wiped away the wet streaks, getting her to finally tilt her head to meet your eyes. She'd been afraid to look, scared each time of what she'd see but it was never anything bad.

Though, it was like looking under the bed for monsters before you could rest and sink away into a Candyland esc dream.

You would always be just a little bit afraid of what you'd see.

"No..." She was much more light in her tone this time, seeing you nod your head and feeling you wipe away her tears. "Then why're you staring?" You tucked some of her longer hairs behind her ears, smiling at her.

"I don't know, I just..." She sucked in a breath, shaky and half intentional, her deep frown and teary eyes returning. "I just wanted to... I don't..." "It's okay, Ellie."

You took your hands from her face and moved down to hold her hips. It felt secure to her, you knew that just by the way she shifted to lean towards you, into your body, sharing your warmth while closing her eyes.

"You wanna go sit outside? Get some air?" You questioned, holding the back of her neck while massaging away the anguish she held physically. The swing on the porch knew just how much she held as well.

"No.. not..." Her eyes opened again, a deep, guttural breath being taken in. "Not tonight?" You beat her to speaking, seeing her agree and feeling her set her hands on your forearms, gently pushing you away. "C'mon then..." You said.

You accepted that at this moment she didn't want to be touched, instead opting to begin the walk back upstairs and to your bedroom. Hearing her following behind until you reached your side of the bed, that's when she halted on the other side of the room.

"Ellie... the bed misses you." You sat on your side, patting hers.

"Why do you stay?" You could've missed the question, it almost flew over your head from how dead quiet it was. Her voice was the pin drop in the room besides the wind that made your cream colored curtains blow.

"Because I want to and I love you a lot, now c'mere m'cold."

Things stood still for a split pause, her feet soon carrying her over to sit beside you, but she could only stare at her hands.

Whether covered in blood, water or your secretion, she hated them.

What they've done, what they've touched.

"Where's your ring?" You raised your eyebrow, holding her hand up in the light. It was gone, but the tan line of where it had been was very much apparent, the woman almost never took it off.

"I took it off to wash my hands... I- I got dirt on them and- and..." You breathed, setting her hand back in her lap as she explained. "That's okay, we'll put it back where it belongs tomorrow, okay?" Ellie hummed, grabbing your hand to hold it before you could fully pull back.

"Unless you want a divorce, but lawyers are so expensive and I like cuddling with you." You pouted, always seeming so serious when you spoke silly nonsense, it nearly made her crack a smile.

"I'd let you have everything."

The end of the world was here. But yes, let's talk lawyers.

"I wouldn't let you give me all that." You then said, peeking up at her through your lashes. "Half and half. You get the porch swing though." She snorted, tilting her head down to press her forehead against yours.

"I do really like that porch swing."

You sat like that for a moment, feeling her warm breath tickling your lips. She'd forgotten and that was enough, the thought of your cold dead body that had haunted her awake slipped from her mind.

Because your forehead was hot and you'd then kissed her with a tepid mouth. It meant you were alive.

She didn't let up when you pulled back though, moving closer in a chase for affection. You allowed it as well, placing your hand on her cheek, feeling her still chilled skin. She wanted more- needed more.

But then, Ellie pulled back.

"I'm sorry.." She wiped her face, pushing her hair back in the process while you moved to keep your gaze on her. Taking them away to be able to see her. "Tell me what's wrong."

You were as cold as ice when she shut her eyes, but warm in reality, she tried focusing on the way your palms ran down her upper arms, soon pulling her into a hug.

"I'm right here." She muttered something in response, holding you back while staring at the wall. Taking in the scent of the new soap you'd gotten from a lady in Jackson to try out. It was like sitting in a flower field, and you were doubling as the sunshine too.

"See?" You asked, bringing her hands up and under your shirt to your chest, allowing her to feel your heartbeat. "Feel that?" Ellie hummed, taking a moment to actually feel the thump, thump, thump that she couldn't feel in her dream.

You were so soft, always, she wondered how you did it because compared to her rough, calloused fingers, you were something entirely different. She knew that, so it didn't surprise her when the feeling of your flesh never changed when her grasp moved down, yours just lightly holding the back of her hand.

Her thumb met your nipple and you watched the fabric move as she ran over the little nub. A little gasp escaping your lips when she did, it'd been a long time since it had, and almost immediately you felt the gut feeling that you'd pushed from your mind to give her space.

"Ellie..." You muttered, resting your forehead on hers while you both watched her move to your other breast, her other hand also making an appearance as it slipped beneath the garment as well, sliding upward.

Slow, drawn out, her mouth capturing you in a kiss to distract you from her touch. Little though, could take you away from her after being deprived of her love for so long, you loved her so much if she said jump, you'd ask how high.

And god those highs were to die for.

"I missed you..." You whispered, kissing her again and again, she hadn't wanted to talk and you got the hint. If you were hungry, she must've been starving.

Her hands went lower, leaving your breasts and she pulled away for just a mere second to slip off the shirt. Then her own came off and she tossed it aside with yours, bare from the waist up with skin on skin, just how she liked to lay.

God, she missed you too.

You were wearing pajama pants that were slightly too big on you, they'd drag on the bottoms of your feet if you didn't pull them up a bunch. She liked to chuckle when you'd get all frustrated with them, but they were your favorite pair.

She thought about this while pushing the waistband down to run her fingers along your hips. She was being light, not squeezing or grabbing, caressing instead.

"What do you wanna do?" You asked, pulling back to kiss her jaw sweetly, listening to her breathe in and out, shuddering from the contact. "I want you..." You let out a 'hmph' sound, pecking her neck before pulling back while holding her shoulders.

"Let me then..." You hummed, lightly guiding her to lay down then you kissed the spot between her eyebrows. Trailing down until you lifted yourself back up, staying straddled on her pelvis, teasing her by running your nails along her lower belly.

Tugging her sleep pants down while also taking her boxers with, you leaned to kiss her abdomen before continuing them along her legs. You then kissed her knee when she helped you remove them, sliding back up to lay against her with a lopsided smile and a want for more kisses.

And as your lips met hers again and again, you slid your own bottoms away and aligned yourself with your wife. Such a knack you had for fitting together, like two puzzle pieces because you knew what she needed and wanted. But Ellie knew the exact same... with you.

You both let out a noise and a gasp when your cunts touched and your clits grazed. Staring into each other's eyes while you began humping against her, looking down only to slip a hand around the back of her leg pushing it up and over before it caught itself on your thigh.

But she wasn't gonna let you do it all, not when she'd pulled away so hard it could've given you whiplash. She'd finally tightened her grip, moving you in a way that you had no control, letting her take you though you were on top.

"God I love you." You said, pitchy and breathless while turning back to look at her, feeling her nails digging into your shoulders and her arms moving to pull you as close as she could while you moved back and forth with her guidance. Allowing her legs to suck you in.

You dripped against her, you and her mixing while you moved slowly back and forth. You wanted to feel every inch of her while your little buds showed each other as much affection as you planned to give her tonight.

"I hate when you doubt that." That was your final murmur when you took her face and brought it to yours, tasting the faint toothpaste and enjoying how she became more confident in her want.

"I know." She mumbled, letting out a low moan when you began moving just the slightest faster, dragging your mouth along her jaw and neck leaving your mark while inching you both towards your release.

You wanted it so badly, but you didn't want to give up the moment just yet. No, because you didn't know when you'd get another and for a mere second that felt like decades you pulled away.

She kept you moving, keeping her hold on you while humping into your body again and again, your hips didn't falter. But you did, and she noticed, watching you curiously with a hint of desperation for you to return.

She was so pretty, why couldn't she see what you saw?

"I love you."

A whisper as you both were rocked over the edge, coming against her with a cry while she tried to muffle her noises. You wouldn't let her though, grinding against her clit with your own, bucking your hips and making her whine and then make a noise that was a soft yell.

You just kept going though, going until you fell against her completely, tucking your face away in her neck. You could've laid there forever and a day, never moving or twitching. Like heaven and you were its top angel.

"I love you too." She whispered, almost unsure of herself, not of the words though. "I know." You smiled, sitting up and grabbing her hands to hold. "I always know, baby."

You had a knack for that.

[naneun-no]

On “Insecure Jikookers”…

Alright. I might lose followers for this and that’s very okay; curate your timeline and protect your peace babes. But for YEARS, every time the phrase “insecure jikooker” has come up on my feed my eyelid has done a little twitchy twitch 🤨🤨

And I have always ignored it, because I’ve never wanted to be out here policing ppl’s language and we are literally supposed to be having fun and celebrating love, like for me that’s the whole point, but —

I’ve been seeing the phrase popping up again surrounding the release of AYS and I just gotta say it.

You guys the term seems so culty 😬🥲

Like I think I get the origin (maybe)? It probably started when some of the early jikook bloggers (if you are one I salute you, I am not worthy, trust me this is NOT a dig at anyone, jikook bloggers are by and large cool and kind af 🙇‍♀️) would get these sketchy asks that were antis or cultists in disguise just casting aspersions on jikook’s bond or being blatantly homophobic and/or in general being rude little anonymous internet gremlins. Or maybe it was people who did want to believe that jikook was real but kept nagging and begging for reassurance at every turn, which I can totally see becoming annoying as hell and prompting people to start using the term.

But it feels like it’s used now as like a catchall for anyone who expresses any doubt or asks any critical questions? Even like… reasonable ones? And I used to see a lot of “hey believe what you want to believe but this is what I believe” but now it seems like the sentiment around jikooker communities has by and large become “if you don’t believe you’re an idiotic dumb person who has never known love — you’re either a rival shipper in disguise or WORSE (dun dun dunnnnn) an Insecure Jikooker — and we don’t want people like you around.”

And idk it just feels weird for a community that has always seemed to kind of pride itself on being the “rational, fact-based” ship… like we LOVE to be smug about how jikook don’t need edits to be obvious, don’t need slo-mo zooms with red circles and arrows because their chemistry and fondness and affection is just plain to see in basic footage. We’re the levelheaded ones 😌.

But doesn’t that mean that we should always be encouraging critical thinking, and if someone comes to a different conclusion than us, so be it? Like it or not, none of us have foolproof confirmation that jikook are anything more than very close friends. That’s literally all we know. The rest is our best guess based on vibes, anecdotes, dot-connecting, subtext and body language observation, experience, perception (!!This is a big one because confirmation bias is real!!), and suspicion. That’s literally it.

Look maybe I’m just projecting 😅 but when you criticize people for expressing reasonable doubt over something that is literally not confirmed, it’s just a little too religious fundamentalist for me! (This is why I was a bad Christian, because I always raised my hand and asked questions the Sunday school teacher didn’t like.)

Feel free to ignore me. I never want to come across as pushy or trying to stir up anything, it’s just a phrase that grinds my gears and I’m sort of hoping I’m not alone in that… but if I am, so be it! 🤣 would love to hear people’s thoughts because maybe I’m missing something.

(P.S. If you’re a troll who spams jikook blog inboxes this is not me defending you. You’re still annoying and you need a better hobby. Have you tried yoga? Snowboarding? Fly fishing? Filming food vlogs and/or painting? You should try cooking. You should stop being an anonymous internet troll stomping on everyone’s proverbial sandcastles and instead write a poem. K bye ✌️ )

[sunny-mercya]

Wasted

Poly! Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Masterlist

H a v i n g t h e T i m e of my L i f e !

D i g g i n g t h e D a n c i n g Q u e e n

«Where's [Name]?» a question Billy shouldn't have asked Stu—he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, wide eyed and a flicker of realisation and panicky fear in them.

«Stu. Where is [Name]?» Billy repeated again, harsher this time, demanding even. Giving his boyfriend a expectantly look, brow raised, a sort of glare it was—the kind of which a parent would give, when they aren't being amused and mildly disappointed with what their child did.

Stu feels like this metaphorical child. His hands getting clammy, eyes darting around from side to side, everywhere and anywhere—even focusing on those, in his humble opinion, absolutely ugly paintings which hung on the walls alongside the staircase, just so he doesn't have to look at Billy and getting this....this look of disappointment from him. Though when Stu accidentally did, he winced visibly.

Now, this was a situation—one of the rare occasional ones—where Billy, who's normally an composed person, was feeling restless and a tiny amount of fear spiking up in him.

This wasn't one of Stu's many parties, where they have established unofficial rules to what was allowed—in drugs and alcoholic beverages wise and where they have control over everything—this was the party of an stranger, a person Sidney (or had it been Tatum or another one of their friends?) was acquainted with, from over next town.

A party, where the two couldn't keep a proper watch over you. Couldn't keep you out of harms way—and it wasn't like, that you neither could hold your own or defend yourself in dire times of need. You're perfectly capable of such things. But, for them, you're their precious little boy—which they just, if they could, would love to lock up and keep safe.

And Stu had one fucking job this night, keeping you near him. Yet in the end, Stu had failed in it, managed to lose you in this crowd.

Billy was craning his neck, straining his muscles and he even could feel a pull at it. Trying to find you in that cramped mass of human strangers. Stu, standing behind Billy on the staircase, being a lot taller then his friend, swirled his head from right to left. He too trying to spot you, your mop of (h/c) hair or the clothes you are wearing. No avail.

An underlaying panic, deep buried in their pits of stomach, sets itself free. Rising up and giving them side stabs. Leaving goosebumps on their skin and a tingle down their spines.

«Fine. We're going search for him together. [Name] can't be that far.» a string of cruses left Billy's mouth afterwards.

~~~

You swayed from side to side, trying to find your way back to the house as you wandered through the backyard, a rather big one with lots greenery, some trees and a stony path. You hoped at least that you were still in the backyard, sight a bit too blurry to tell what all the difference blobs are.

A hiccup here and there left your mouth. Swallowing your own salvia and taking another sip from your cup, drowning the last rest. Wanting the sandy dryness to get away.

A few minutes later and your mouth was dry again. You drunk enough to have your body being hydrated. More limo and soft drink than alcoholic beverages, besides a few shots and one or two cups of beer.

So getting a dry mouth within seconds was a bit weird, so you thought. Did you always had such a excessive sweating? And since when was the night so warm?

You stopped your walking, just standing there wherever that was, because it sure doesn't look like a backyard anymore (and perhaps it never has.)

Taking one step forward, still wanting to continue your way back and in the next moment of seconds, you felt a wave of air around you. Falling and your face hits the asphalt.

The small shock shook your mind awake form the haze. Turning onto your side, you tried to sit up. Needing a few tries before you accomplished it. The few glass shards, which laid around, digging into your palms—leaving bloody cuts.

Huh, funny, the blurry dots which comes flying nearer and nearer, reminded you a bit of your boyfriends—the colours seemed to fit the dots so well.

You snorted loudly at this thought, falling onto your side again. Giggles left your mouth, waving a hand at your dot boyfriends. Dot boyfriends. Another snort.

~~~

It had taken some time till Billy and Stu had found you. First they searched inside the house, checked every room—interrupting a few people by two things; sex and taking a piss. Then they took a look around the backyard and pool area, but nothing.

A few fleeting thoughts, what if imagines came to their minds. Non of them pleasant at all. You could have been kidnapped or you going back all on your own or you even going with someone else.

They came to the same conclusion. You're wandering somewhere on the streets around and on their way out of the house—passing through the mass crowd, bumping shoulders—Billy sneered at Sidney when she gave them a confused questionably glance.

If it weren't for Sidney, this wouldn't even be happening. Not Stu was at fault.

All of this was her fucking fault.

Billy thanked whatever god might be existing above there. They didn't had to ventured through the streets for too long, till they saw you sitting in the middle of the street.

Stu helped you sit upright again, keeping his hands on your shoulders to give you hold.

Billy crouched down in front of you, holding your face into his hands. Scraping the small bits of shards away and drawing circles with his thumbs over your cheeks. You leaned into his touch—a contrast to your warm skin.

«....It's so warm....» you mumbled, blinking owlish at Billy, eyes dropping every so often.

«What happen [Name]?»

Billy watched patiently how you opened your mouth, trying to form words but all it came out was a jumble of unintelligible sounds.

Billy was concerned, even if you were drunk—fully intoxicated—you would still be able to say intelligible words.

Though you didn't look too good either; laboured shallowed breaths, ghostly pale, sweat trickling down your skin, shivering—besides you complaining about the chilly night being way too hot—pupils dilating and your nonchalantly about the cuts.

Noticing the empty cup next to you, Billy had a hunch and hoped he was wrong. The bit of leftover drink in the cup, a slight purple colour with a bitter smell, had proving his hunch correct. Drugs.

Billy narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips into a line. He crushed the cup in his hand, throwing it away. Whoever fucker had done this, they would pay this. Dying a long and painful death.

«You carry him Stu, though lets find the fucker first.»

~~~

«Bills, let us go home. [Nickname] needs to sleep and getting the drugs out his system» Stu whines a bit, adjusting his hold on your thighs again to carry you more evenly on his back. All the while you nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck, moaning out complains—with a few giggles and in between incoherently talking of something—how damn hot it was, how thirsty you are and that you want some cuddles.

Stu, to keep you delighted and from falling asleep, nodded and agreed along to whatever you were saying. Giving you seriously meant answers.

Billy let go of Ben's—the asshole who drugged not only you, but also Kelly—shirt collar, leaving him leaning against the wall. Ben snickers, smirking at Billy, practically a invitation of dare.

«Aww, c'mon a bit of drugs hasn't harmed anyone. Don't get yer panties in a twist. Pretty boy is taking well, isn't he?»

A wave of anger took over Billy's face, contouring into a grimace of furiousness. Without wasting another second, Billy punched him across the face. Breaking Bens nose in process, a satisfying crack being heard.

«Try to drug him again Benny boy and I will make sure that your nose isn't the only thing I will break.

~~~

«Ya think some good ol' horror films will help our darling babe to fall asleep faster?»

«No Stu. That wouldn't be such a good idea, not with the intake of drugs. Could mess with his mind.»

Stu laid you down onto the bed, crawling next to you and pulling the covers over you and taking you into his arms. Billy coming back in the room, placing a glass of water and some pills onto the nightstand. Putting a cool washcloth onto your, already burning up, forehead.

Bill sat on the edge of the bed, caressing your cheek, swatting away Stu's hand from himself for a moment. Deciding after all in the end, to lay down next to you too.

Ben would pay for this, Billy having planning the perfect death for him.

Though this could wait for a bit later, after all you're their first priority.

D a n c i n g Q u e e n, f e e l t h e b e a t

D i g g i n g t h e d a n c i n g Q u e e n

[jeankluv]

Sweet boy - Gojo Satoru

words: 4k

paring: Gojo x milf!reader

summary: You refused to spend your 33rd birthday alone after having been divorced for 4 months and who would have told you that going to a bar to spend your 33rd birthday would make you meet an attractive 25-year-old young man?

tags: p in the v, older woman x younger man, sub Gojo, sugar baby Gojo, sugar mommy reader, smut, oral sex (f), ridding, age difference

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed, it was your 33rd birthday and you were spending it alone. It hadn't been more than four months since you had caught your now ex-husband in bed with his secretary. It sounded too cliché, but that's how it was.

But the truth is that you didn't feel like celebrating anything, your family hadn't let it bother you after announcing that you were getting a divorce, according to them you were losing value and giving a bad image to the family. Disgusting, was what you thought when your father said that.

Since that day you had not visited him again and you had no intention of doing so either. You were independent, you owned your own business where you earned well and you had achieved everything on your own, without help from your parents.

But it felt lonely, being there, turning 33 without anyone to celebrate with. You shook your head and grabbed the red lipstick and painted your lips, you would go out and drink, even if it was alone.

You walked out of your apartment and with your head held high you walked out of your apartment, feeling the big city night crash against you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Gojo Satoru stretched out in his chair, feeling the alcohol coursing through his veins. He was with his college friends at a local bar, it was their third round but Satoru was still on his first beer, he really hated drinking but this was a special occasion, they were finally graduating from their master's degree.

“C’mon Gojo!” One of his classmates held him. “Let’s drink another beer.”

Satoru shook his head. “I’m good.” He tried to get the weight of his classmate from him. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

He heard his classmate complain, but he completely ignored him and continued walking without paying attention.

His blue gaze fell upon a figure at the bar drinking. Her hair fell over her bare back and in her hand was a glass of what looked like red wine. Satoru felt an electric shock go through his body and the saliva in his mouth dry.

His feet stopped moving and at that moment he wanted to get closer. Taking a breath and clenching his fists, he approached the figure.

“Hey…” He said, his voice coming a bit weak from his vocal cords.

You groaned and put the wine glass down on the table. “What?” You looked at him and first saw his blue eyes and then, his dimples.

He was cute, really pretty actually. He looked younger, probably in his twenties. Oh he would probably leave as soon as he saw that you were older than him, he probably thought you were a girl in her twenties and wanted to flirt with you but who would want to flirt with you now? At least that's what your ex told you, that you weren't attractive anymore.

“Saw you here alone drinking… and I approached you.” He spoke, now he seemed a bit less nervous. “Is this seat free?” He pointed to the seat next to you.

“Do whatever you want.” You said.

He sat next to you and asked for a drink. “So tell me, what are you doing here alone?”

“Ugh…” You said while swallowing the wine. “With how many women have you talked to? What was that phrase?”

The boy looked at you shocked and you noticed his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “I… well I have…” He protested. Cute.

You chuckled and moved your head. “You are so cute, you know? How old are you?” You rested your head on your hand, as you looked at him.

“25… will be 26 on December.” He smiled.

He was younger than you. “Cute…” You whispered. “I’m here celebrating my lonely birthday. An old woman like me is celebrating her birthday all alone.”

“Happy birthday!” He said with a smile. “And old?” He tilted his head.

“I’m 33.” You slightly smiled, waiting for the moment he would say that he was leaving.

“Oh…” He only whispered.

“It’s okay if you leave. I know I’m not…”

“I’m not leaving, I want to drink with you.” He said confidently, his eyes shining. You looked at him with surprise.

“Do whatever you want…” You paused yourself, realizing you didn’t his name.

“Satoru!” He said. “My name is Satoru.”

You told him your name. “Is nice to meet you Satoru.”

He said your name and you felt how something lit up in you. “And why would you be celebrating your birthday all alone.”

You smirked. “Life is awful, my ex cheated and no one sided with me during our divorce.” You drank again. “So here I am with my glass of wine and now a cute boy.” You looked at him, what was happening to you? You were flirting with that boy?

“I hope this is a nice company then.” He smiled. “And by the way your ex is an asshole, cheating on a beautiful woman like you. Such a loser.”

You bite your lip. Oh so he was interested in you? For real? That handsome boy was interested in you. And you? You were honestly interested in him too.

You smiled subtly and shook your head. “Maybe it’s the alcohol but why do I feel like you’re flirting with me?”

You could feel his shoulders tense and then a smile appeared. “Because I am.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why would you do that? With a woman like me when you have such young girls?” You whispered, showing a bit of vulnerability.

He came closer, Satoru found courage where he didn’t have any and brushed your lips with his thumb. “Because you’re the only one I’m interested in in this whole bar.”

A small gasp escaped from your lips and you looked away, embarrassed. “You drank too much, Satoru.” You said his name for the first time.

And that made Satoru not want to walk away, he wanted to hear you say his name like that again. Oh god, he wanted more of you. He was so enraptured by your beauty, your way of speaking, your movements, your lips moving.

“I didn’t…” He whispered. “And if I did you know what they say about drunk people right? They always tell the truth.” He said the last part in your ear.

“Gojo!!” A male voice sounded almost above the music of the bar. “We are waiting for you! We will be starting the drinking game.” A boy started shaking Satoru’s shoulders.

You saw how Satoru looked a bit annoyed, as if he didn’t like the idea of going back with his classmates. The eyes of Satoru’s eyes fell on you and then back on Satoru’s figure, who was still quiet.

“Oh!” He looked at you again. “Oh Gojo, sorry you were enjoying the night with this pretty lady?” The boy screamed.

“Yeah, now get out of here. You are annoying.” Satoru said.

“Why don’t you come with us and also play with us at the drinking game?” The boy ignored Satoru and spoke to you.

You looked at Satoru and smiled, it could be fun. “Yeah, why not?”

Satoru opened his eyes. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to…” You smirked. “C’mon sweet boy.” You whispered that part, and gently touched his arm.

Satoru felt his breath hitch and probably looked like a complete idiot as he watched you move your hips following his classmate to the table. He saw you sitting on the table with the rest of his classmates and how you made a sign for him to approach you.

Satoru blinked and wiped his damp hands on his pants before walking over to the table, sitting next to you. You smiled at him and Satoru felt like he melted around your fingertips.

He could hear his classmates laughing and speaking but his eyes were on you and just you, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Right Gojo?” He heard his name being called.

“Huh?” He turned and finally looked at his classmates.

“We are explaining to your lovely friend how the game goes.”

“Oh yeah…” He looked at you. “You don’t have to play.” He whispered to you.

“I want to…” You smiled, cockily and watched how he became shy.

“Yeah, right.” He swallowed.

The game started but Satoru's head was somewhere else, not in the game, his eyes were simply focused on you. The sound of his classmates' laughter filled the place and you would occasionally glance at him subtly.

You couldn't have imagined being there on your birthday night with a group of recent graduates while you played a drinking game and felt the gaze of that boy who had caught your attention so much.

“Okay! Now it’s Gojo’s turn!” One of the guys shouted pouring liquor on Gojo’s small glass.

You watched as Satoru blinked and he looked at the glass. An idea crossed your mind and you smiled. You stood up from your seat and took Satoru's glass, while your eyes were fixed on him.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me Satoru?” You whispered to him, touching his face.

Satoru gulped as he looked at you, you were driving him crazy. The world seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you. Your soft hands touched his face and made him look up as you brought the glass to his lips.

Satoru's heart rate increased when his lips touched the glass. Your eyes continued to penetrate his, not blinking for a second. The alcohol passed down his throat, burning him. And he didn't know if it was because of the alcohol or your seductive gaze, that he felt his body begin to heat up.

You bite your lip as you saw as his cheeks were completely red and looking like a puppy at you. Once he drank the liquor you gently patted his face with a wide smile and sat back down to notice all of Satoru's classmates were staring at you with their mouths open.

“What?” You smiled cockily at his classmates.

“Oh please do that to me too!” One of the boys screamed.

“No! To me please.” Another one said.

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’m sorry guys but I will do that only to Satoru.” You rested your head on your hand.

Satoru's classmates made a whimper and you turned your eyes to Satoru who was still in a trance-like state. You wanted to laugh but you contain yourself from doing it. The game continued, as Satoru continued to ramble on in his not-so-pure thoughts about you. You continued to smile and stare at him, and poor Satoru's heart continued to race like a 16-year-old's.

“Well…” You stood up. “I think it is time for me to leave.” You looked at the boys and finally at Gojo and winked your eye, hoping he would get your signal.

“I will accompany you.” Satoru stood from the table as fast as the light.

You smiled and started walking with Satoru following you like your own shadow. The cold night hit your cheeks and you turned around to look at Satoru.

“So what pretty boy, is this a goodbye?”

Satoru swallowed and moved his hands. “Only… only if you want.”

You bite your lip. “You know…” You approached him and you placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your palm. “I didn’t get any birthday present today…”

You saw Satoru gulp and get nervous. “Oh… that’s a shame…” He said with a sigh. “Is… is there anything I could do?” He said with a half smile.

“Yes…” You narrowed your eyes and your breaths began to mix before kissing his lips.

Your hands moved from his chest to his hair and you gently tugged on it as the kiss intensified. You separated from him trying to catch your breath.

“Let’s go to my apartment.” You held his hand and started walking searching for a taxi to take you both to your apartment.

As soon as you entered your apartment, the anticipation that had been boiling through your veins burst forth. You couldn't resist any longer and immediately pounced on Satoru, your need for him overtaking everything else. Your lips met his in a fervent kiss, tasting the sweetness of his candy-flavored lips.

The urgency of your movements seemed to take Satoru by surprise, his breathing ragged as your mouths moved against each other. His hands, shaking slightly with nervousness, found their way to your hips. Despite the passion between you, his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he feared you might break in his arms. Slowly, as if he savored every second of closeness, he pulled you closer, closing the space between your bodies until you could feel the heat of him penetrating your skin, as if he were leaving marks on your skin.

As your bodies pressed closer together, the heat between you became almost unbearable, the temperature of your room beginning to rise abruptly. Your fingers tangled in his white hair, drawing him deeper into the kiss as you demanded more from him. Satoru responded with a soft, submissive moan that made you shiver, his lips surrendering completely to your touch and your warmth.

His hands wandered from your hips to your sides, moving tentatively, almost as if asking for permission with every inch he traveled across your skin. He traced the curve of your waist with a feather-light touch, his fingers trembling slightly as he explored your body, his breathing growing shakier with each passing moment. His chest rose and fell against yours, the steady beat of his heart resonating in your own chest, but his submission made it all the more intoxicating.

You could feel Satoru’s restraint jerk and tremble beneath your lips. He was giving himself over to you completely. When he finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, his eyes met yours, filled with a vulnerable longing that made your heart race.

You could see the hunger reflected in Satoru’s gaze, tempered with a deep, trusting submission that only made you want him more. Wordlessly, you pulled him back to you, needing to feel him, to taste him, to take control of every part of him.

His hands moved more confidently now, but still with that same underlying hesitation, sliding down your back and then back down again, like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you beneath his fingers, but unsure if he could take more. Your own hands roamed over his body, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, feeling the way his body responded to your touch.

You could feel his heartbeat, fast and steady, pulsing beneath your fingertips as you ran them over the hard plains of his chest. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air that wafted just outside the window. As you moved closer, pressing your body fully against his, Satoru responded with a low, breathy moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When his lips left yours, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses along your jaw and down your neck, you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips. The sound seemed to spur Satoru on, his kisses becoming more insistent, more demanding as he explored the curve of your neck.

Your hands found their way beneath his shirt, tracing the contours of his back, the muscles tensing beneath your touch as you pulled him even closer.

With a breathless whisper Satoru broke the silence of the room. “What do you want me to do ma’am?”

That nickname made your insides burn with desire, his hot and eager gaze only increased that desire. Your heart was completely racing, you wanted that boy to devour you, even if it was just for that night. You wanted it.

A sigh escaped your lips and you swallowed hard. “Get on your knees.” You told him with a smile.

Satoru obeyed without blinking an eye, without question, as he got on his knees in front of you. You smiled widely and sat down on the couch behind you. The short dress you were wearing was pushed up slightly to your thighs.

Satoru positioned himself between your legs, you could see his gaze filled with a mix of intensity mixed with tenderness. Satoru took a moment to admire you, his breath warm and uneven hitting your skin. Satoru placed soft kisses on your inner thigh, the kisses were slow and gentle as if Satoru wanted to take his time with you.

A moan escaped your lips as his fingers moved over your thong and his tongue traced a path from your entrance to the sensitive folds above. His gaze was fixed on you, looking at you with desire and hunger. You threw your head back as he began to suck, feeling it send shockwaves through your body.

His hands rested lightly on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his exploration. He seemed completely absorbed in pleasuring you, focused on knowing what made you moan in pleasure.

“Oh Satoru!” You moaned, tangling your fingers in his white hair, feeling your body getting closer to climax.

Each wave of pleasure that built up inside you was met with a new. As you reached the peak of pleasure, the sounds of your moans and gasps filled the room, and Satoru responded with ever-increasing fervor, concentrating solely on bringing you to the climax you were eagerly approaching. When you finally reached your peak, the sensation was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Your chest rose and fell as you looked at Satoru, who was licking his lips while his blue eyes remained fixed on you. Satoru was trying to control himself, he felt agitated and the bulge in his pants was becoming unbearable. But, oh fuck, he would never have imagined himself in that situation and he loved it.

The temperature in the room rose considerably and at that moment the only sounds you could hear were your breathing, especially yours, which was still trying to find normality.

You were sticky, sweaty but you didn't want to finish yet. You gulped and gently touched Satoru's face. His gaze relaxed, reflecting tenderness and softness. You smiled before kissing him and lowering your hand to his crotch, causing a whimper to escape Satoru's lips. Smiling against his lips you continue moving your hand over his pants, feeling how hard he was.

“Get undress.” You said breaking the kiss and standing up from the sofa.

Satoru swallowed, following your movements. “Yes ma’am.”

There was that nickname again and the heat it provoked in you. Satoru began to undress and you could notice that toned torso that you had been able to touch lightly minutes ago.

You turned your face away and took off your dress, letting it fall to the floor. Turning back around, you saw that Satoru was now completely naked before you and your heart gave a little jump at the sight of him there, knowing that he would be completely yours.

“Sit on the couch and put this.” You said, throwing him a condom you were keeping on your purse.

Satoru shivered, he was loving this, being under your command, being yours. Nodding he sat down on the couch and you walked over to him, a smile forming on your face.

Satoru was completely hard, he knew that if you touched him he could cum. You gently sat on his thighs and touched his face again and gently moved closer to him.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Satoru?” You murmured against his lips.

Satoru felt like he was melting, like he was passing out. “Yes…”

“Yes what?” You smiled.

“Yes ma’am.” He said and you nodded before kissing him.

You gently grabbed his member, causing Satoru to moan and squeeze his eyes shut. “Open your eyes my sweet boy. I want you to watch me ride you.”

Satoru opened his eyes, which were glazed over and he swallowed as he watched you gently insert his member inside you.

You moaned as his cock was finally inside you, it was definitely bigger than your ex's and it filled you completely. Satoru moved his hand and grabbed your hip, you could feel his desperation crashing against your skin as he sought to get you to start moving.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it off your hip. “No hands sweet boy.”

Satoru pouted as he looked at you. “Please…” He moaned as you shifted slightly.

You chuckled and started to move your hips, causing both of you to moan at the pleasure you were feeling. Satoru fought the urge to touch you, to trace your curves, but he wanted to be a good boy to you and follow your desires.

Sweat began to run down your faces as you moved up and down his member, feeling every fiber of your skin tingle with each penetration. It had been too long since you had felt such pleasure, your ex had rarely or never made you feel the way that the 25-year-old was making you feel.

“Oh Satoru…” You said throwing your head backwards and closing your eyes.

“Please ma’am…” Satoru cried out.

“What sweet boy?” You looked at him without stopping.

“Let me… let me touch you more.” He murmured, with his voice trembling as he let the words out.

“Where?” You smirked.

“Everywhere.” He said with shiny eyes.

Your back bent and you brought your face closer to his, your breaths mingling and you gently bit his bottom lip. “You’ve been a good boy, haven’t you?” He nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Go ahead…”

Satoru gathered his courage and captured your lips in a passionate kiss and his hands rested on your hips, squeezing them and beginning to move them up and down, exploring your upper body.

You broke the kiss and threw your head backwards as Satoru started to devour your nipples. You moved your hands up to his hair and tangled your fingers in his hair and started pulling on them.

Satoru left your nipples and began to leave a trail of wet kisses on your neck and collarbone, while you continued to move on his member.

You don't know how much longer you kept moving, but you do know that when your second orgasm hit that night on your birthday, a moan escaped your throat and you hugged Satoru tightly, who kept moving inside you until he growled and reached his orgasm.

Satoru grabbed your body tightly and breathed heavily on your ear, trying to catch his breath after the orgasm he had had. You gently pulled away and got off of Satoru, grimacing at the mess you had made on the couch.

“I will have to call someone to clean that…” You murmured for yourself. “You want something to drink?” You looked at Satoru.

“I… yeah…” He stood up and took his clothes.

You looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh… I will leave after drinking something.”

“Why?” You asked.

He looked at you. “I… well…” Satoru felt a bit embarrassed.

“Stay… we can have more fun.” You tilted your head.

Satoru nodded and oh boy, you did have so much fun. You had a few more rounds, in bed, in the shower, etc., you were really thankful you had gone out on your birthday night.

The next morning you woke up with Satoru's arms on your hips and you smiled. You gently moved Satoru until his blue eyes met yours. You had been thinking about something all night.

“Good morning…” You whispered with a smile.

“Good morning.” He said back with a smile revealing his dimples.

“Do you have a passport?” You asked him.

“I… yeah.”

“Good, then come with me to Italy.”

Satoru almost choked with his own saliva and opened his eyes. “To Italy? I don’t have money to…”

“Don’t worry.” You cut him off. “I will pay for everything.” You got closer to him. “So what sweet boy, you coming with me?”

Satoru scanned your face and swallowed. “Yeah… yeah ma’am.”

And there it was the nickname again, you could lose your whole mind for that boy. “Good.” You smiled before capturing his lips again.

[cherryredstars]

First off, I love you.

Second off, I love you A LOT.

Okay so I’m losing my mind over a brain vomit where younger reader’s been harboring and hiding feelings for Miguel for the sake of being appropriate and it’s starting to make her frustrated like “fuck I’m gonna get actually fucking sick and vomit” because how much she’s crushing on him is CRAZY, so reader basically goes up to Miguel like “I can’t take this anymore.” Like reject me so I can move on type of thing. “ Do me a favor, and break my nose or something. Tell me to fucking go away” or something like that. My brain is burning.

Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader, John Price x civil!reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: For my baby, I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!!

Edited (just for you boo)

| Miguel O'Hara

If you look at him, you will actually throw up.

Like projectile 'make yourself a laughing stock' throw up. It's just the way your body- your stomach- reacts when you see him. It gets twisted, fluttery with a fix of butterflies and disgust. It's down right disgusting, inappropriate at the least. He's almost a decade older than you, yet here you are pining after him as if you're some teenage girl. You feel physically sick when you think about it for too long: throat contracting and your stomach hurting. You aren't sure which of your delusions are the cause of such a horrendous crush, but you promise you'll strangle it when you find out. There is simply no way this could have ever worked out in your favor. It's simply impossible.

Miguel O'Hara would never go for someone like you. Young and naive, haven't even reached the appropriate age to have a mid-life crisis (but you're sure this is the closest fucking thing to it). You know this, hammer it into your thick skull every day before you have to face him. Yet, it all comes crumbling down when you lay eyes on him. It takes less than a second for you to skip after him, a stupid, lovesick look flickering across your face as you help him with whatever he needs. You simply can't stay away, even if you tried. You always fall back into his orbit, gravity pushing you towards him until you're practically glued to him.

You're sure he must find it annoying. Probably relates it to something like babysitting. It's well known Miguel doesn't like to be bothered when he's working. But there you are without fail, sitting around on his platform entertaining yourself by playing with LYLA when you aren't out saving universes. You don't miss the way his eyes flick to you every now and then with some emotion you can't quite place. But if you had to guess, it's probably something close to exasperation.

In all honesty, you're tired of it.

Tired of the false hope you delude yourself into believing after every minor interaction. Tired of trying to justify your affection for the older man. Tired of feeling a bit of resentment towards yourself. You're just... tired. He must sense it when you walk onto the platform, judging by the look he shoots you.

LYLA is muted mid-sentence as he angles his body slightly away from his monitors and towards you, watching as you plop yourself in your usual spot. He waits expectantly for your usual greeting, brows furrowing with confusion when you do nothing but play with the elastic quality of your suit. You haven't even looked at him since you got in.

"Everything alright?" His all so familiar voice asks, making your stomach ache and the urge to punch yourself stronger.

"Yeah," you respond simply, silence lapping over the two of you.

Miguel waits patiently, expecting something more. But, you don't continue. Miguel hesitates for a moment before turning back around. His eyes study the screens once more, his finger hovering over the button to unmute LYLA before you speak up again.

"Can you like... degrade me or something?"

Miguel almost chokes on his spit when he turns around, not expecting you to say...that. You're still playing with your suit and staring at the floor, face painted with frustration. You look up when he doesn't answer, brows furrowed when your eyes meet his shocked face. You quickly divert your attention to his muscular shoulder, not really having the courage to face him head-on.

"Not like the... sexy kind. More like the heart wrenching kind." You clarify, not that it's any better for Miguel.

He turns to full face you this time, arms crossed over his chest as he studies you. The request doesn't really make sense to him. Why would you want him to do that? Is it some universe-exclusive culture he isn't aware of?

"Why?" Miguel asks, trying to recall your past interactions to see if they have something to do with your strange request.

"I dunno, just thought it might make it easier?" You shrug, your eyes flicking to his again and then looking towards the ceiling.

"Make what easier, exactly?"

Miguel isn't a fan of cryptic answers, but he tries to be patient with you. He watches as your face twists, unsure how to word what you're feeling. You let out a heavy sigh eventually, actually meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for once.

"To get over you."

The words cause Miguel to freeze, his body going rigid. You groan, hiding your embarrassed face in your hands and scrubbing ferociously. This is absolutely embarrassing. You wished a random portal would just appear under you, throwing you into another universe and far away from this particular moment in time.

You're so caught up in your embarrassment that you don't realize Miguel is walking over to you until he's crouched down in front of you. He pries your hands gently from your face, giving you the softest smile you have ever seen on him. His thumbs caress your wrists absentmindedly, doing nothing to calm your raging heart. It practically explodes when he leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes are wide and dazed as you look up at him, trying to commit the curve of his mouth to memory.

"Now, why would I want you to do that?"

_____________

| John Price

You aren't exactly sure when it started.

But the moment you realized you liked John, you've started hating yourself. It feels wrong. Almost disrespectful in a way. You aren't particularly sure why, it just does. John Price is a nice man, a good man. A man that could be easily mistaken as your father if someone didn't look close enough. The man you had happened to meet and befriended one day after he had been so kind and gentle with you.

Not the man you should be liking and forcing your feelings on.

You're someone John goes to for comfort, someone he seeks out after coming home from a battlefield. Someone that's supposed to help him distress. The idea of taking advantage of that gently placed trust, of expecting something from John just because he goes to you for help, makes you want to throw up until you're nothing but a useless husk. It's shameful, eating you up on the inside until you feel like your organs are on the verge of failure.

So your solution: Avoid Johnathan Price like the plague.

Does it hurt seeing his texts flash across your phone screen, asking you if you're free throughout the week so he can spend time with you before he deploys again? Hell fucking yes. It makes you feel guilty as hell. But you try to justify it to yourself, reassuring that it's only temporary. That everything will go back to normal once these stupid feelings leave you alone and John Price goes back to being the sweet man you grab lunch with every now and then when he's home so you can catch up.

But of course, your plans never go accordingly.

You startle on your couch when there is a firm knocking on your door, your hands rushing to pause the telly to see if it was just a hallucination. But sure enough, that same steady knocking sounds again. You get up hesitantly, brows furrowed as you try to remember if you ordered take away or something. You peak through the peep-hole, hand planted on the cool wood of the door as you squint.

The alertness in your body dies away when the familiar frame of John greets you, only to tense up again. John Price is at your door. The same John price you've been avoiding for a week. The same exact John fucking Price you're practically in love with. Your hand slides down to the knob, gulping nervously as you unlock it and yank your door open.

John is standing there with his hand raised again to knock, decked out in his military gear. His hands drop to grip the strap of his vest, his mutton chops quivering as his face lifts into his soft smile. You blink up at him, feeling the knob warm under your hand and your heart slamming against your chest. Why did he have to be so handsome, goddamnit?

You step out of the doorway, silently inviting him inside. He accepts it, stepping in and examining the area out of habit. You close the door quietly after him, turning to face him as he turns to face you.

"Missed ya, love? Been busy lately?" He asks in that comfortingly rough voice of his.

You don't trust yourself to not choke on your words, scared he'll see through your lies. Instead you nod, letting out a weak hum that he returns in a more confident note. Your eyes drop down to his military gear, a frown slipping onto your face. Is he being deployed again?

As if sensing the underlying question, John's hands let go of his military vest and he stuffs them into the pockets of his tactical pants.

"Heading out tonight, just wanted to say goodbye before I go since I didn't get to see you this time around."

You feel a stab to your chest at his words, resisting the urge to lift your hand and smooth the pain.

"John..." You start hesitantly, your mouth going dry when he hums again. "Can you tell me you hate me? Or... or that you think I'm stupid or something?"

John tilts his head in confusion, brows furrowing as his lips thin. There is a silent question in your eyes, an aura of demand wafting from him that orders you to explain further. Your hand comes to rub your arm, socked heel digging into your ankle as you debate how much to tell him.

"It's just... I like you and I don't..." You sigh in frustration, turning your head away to glare at the wall. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of how nice you've been to me or that I expect you to reciprocate how I feel."

It's quiet for a moment before John's chuckling fills the room. Your head turns away from the wall, meeting the sparkling amusement in John's eyes as he looks at you. There is a fondness there that makes your knees feel weak, your breath getting trapped in your lungs. John takes steady, reassured steps towards you, stopping when he's centimeters away. Your heart is practically lurching in your chest as you look up at him, watching as he slowly takes off his boonie hat.

Your eyes are wide as he places it over your head, chuckling when it slips down over your face before he readjusts it. He admires the sight for a second before he leans down, his facial hair tickling your cheeks as his lips press against the corner of your mouth. Your heart officially stops, your body dangerously close to swaying as he pulls away. You're in a daze as he pinches your cheek lightly, trying to call your attention away from the sparks lingering across your skin.

"We'll take about this when I get back, silly girl." He rumbles, his heavy paw landing on the top of his hat before he slips past you, closing and locking the door behind him as he disappears out of your flat. You're left in a daze as your shaky hands reach up and grasp the rim of his hat, the smell of him instantly invading your senses.

And when John reaches base and the lads pester him about where his usual hat is, he just shakes his head and replies that he left it at home for safe keeping.

[dyk3tastic]

can’t have both

victoria neuman (the boys) x reader

genre: angst, tension

summary: set during 4x07 of the boys. you, a member of the boys, run into victoria at tek-nights whilst looking for hughie. danger leads to a brief moment of vulnerability between you two.

warnings: blood, violence, canon-typical threats of violence, language, non-con touching

a/n: my first post on my new blog :p. been obsessed with her and needed somewhere to dump this sexy headpopper brainrot. lmk if you’d like me to write more of her or any other hot ‘evil’ women (shes not evil, just misunderstood (ignore all the homocide)). haven’t posted ff in years lol im being sucked back in. written off an edible at 4am excuse any spag errors. (heya, this is shy from the future, you can now read part 2 & part 3 of this if u fancy :p )

she has you pinned, strong lithe fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing. the other gripping firm across your jaw, sure to leave a bruise, keeping you quiet. you think all this is unnecessary, you don’t have a death wish; screaming, drawing any attention to yourself, in a house full of supes and nazis wasn’t exactly high on your wishlist. you glared up at her deep brown eyes, they were as collected as she always so desperately tried to appear, the only hint of panic setting along her tight jaw. looming over you in her heels you loved so much, you’re eyes see her mouth moving but no words register. you wonder how she can even cope at things like this, how she can stomach this disgusting parade of privilege and abuse. the victoria you knew would fucking hate this, but you didn’t know her, not really.

its only her tightening grip on your jaw, making your teeth scrape against each other, pain shooting through your skull that brings you back.

“you’re a fucking idiot” she gritted through a clenched jaw. she took a deep, shaky breath. if you didn’t know better you’d think she was nervous. “pull any of your usual shit on me right now and i swear to god i will paint that pretty face of yours across the room”. her voice was barely above a whisper, inches away from your face her warm breath prickled against your skin, stray strands of her soft dark hair brushing against your cheek. you don’t think you’ve been this close to her since you found out, your heart pounded in your chest, body thrumming with nerves and tension. she released her hand from over your mouth, “what are you doing here?” she spat out, with that familiar patronising yet pitiful victoria stare that tells you you’ve once again made a bad decision, the wrong decision. you gasp for breath, she loosens her grip on your neck, but still keeps her fingers settled over your pulse point, a reminder of who’s in charge.

you try to keep your voice even as you rasp out a “hughie”, throat still throbbing from her grip. “your pal tek-night has got him locked up here somewhere”. continuing to cough out you snarl “you remember hughie right? your friend who you lied to and manipulated for years?”. hot piercing anger was rising through your body whilst something deep sunk in your stomach, settling in a twisted concoction of desire and disgust, a needy pit of betrayal. overwhelmed and once again underprepared, you fingers inch towards the syringe in your back pocket. before you can even swing for her neck your arm is pinned, blood running from both your nostrils, dripping over your lips, down your chin and neck, her grip around your neck tight.

“what did i fucking say?” she sighed, disappointed.

“i thought we were-“ your voice fails you, your anger clouding any chance of vulnerability, of reconciliation.

“i wanted to tell you” a beat of silence. “i did. and hughie. i wanted to tell you both.” she lets out a sad, tired half-laugh, grip not faltering from your neck. “i wanted to trust you but i didn’t want to lose you.” she swallows. “and i didn’t think i could have both, i’ve never been able to have both”. the slip in her mask of cool confidence, the crack of vulnerability, makes you feel slightly sick as you are unable to squash the warmth of empathy in your chest. you flinch at the melancholy that swims below her beautiful features, that deep sadness painting her eyes that made her so fucking irresistible. you felt sick again.

“just get it over with vic.” you choked out, mouth filling with blood. she frowned in response, taking a moment as she felt your heart beat, blood pumping fast and heavy through your body, she could tell you were scared. feeling the heat from your skin, she knew her closeness was having an effect on you, she let a smirk tug at the corners of her full lips.

“i’m not going to fucking kill you y/n.” she dryly chuckled. letting go of her grip on your neck and wrist, she swiped the pad of her thumb over your lips, dragging down across your chin. as she stepped back from you your traitor body instantly missed her presence looming over you. you were free to make a run for it, yet there you remained, paralysed before her knowing stare. she raised her thumb to her mouth, licking off your blood in what can only be described as a terrifyingly erotic gesture that was perfectly victoria. both a display of power and some twisted form of tenderness. your breath hitched as you broke eye contact, not daring to say a word for fear of what might come out. she smiled again, this time without that signature smugness, but with a softer expression that she reserved, rarely, for very few, both somewhat cheeky and sad, desperately sincere. before you could even allow your seriously lagging brain to formulate a response victoria was striding out of the room without looking back, leaving your blood to dry across your face.