#I would take a close up but I kinda hate how my hands look

[tumble-tv]

ICE raids are happening.

Any immigrants, no matter how long you have been a citizen of the USA, is at risk of being deported either out of the country as a whole or into what are basically concentration camps. Raids starting in Chicago, Illinois. and spreading to other major cities with high POC and Hispanic populations. The US Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) have started raiding homes and families in California.

There are no "protected locations" as of January 21, 2025. Hospitals, schools, and churches are all at risk of being raided, where before these places were deemed safe and off limits to raids.

When it comes to spotting an ICE agent, look for these:

Weirdly neat/well kept hair (shaved heads, side parts, military burs for men; low buns, high ponytails, close cropped bobs for women)

Oversized jacket (long and bulky outerwear makes it easier to hide tools/equipment without being suspicious)

Both hands in pockets

Many undercover agents/cops buy cheap plain clothes off the racks so they aren’t seen in their own clothes. This can make their outfit seem awkward

Sweatshirts with the hood up

Sports apparel (warm up jacket, sweats, etc) with non-sports clothes (jeans, cargo shorts)

Cargo pants/shorts (usually full of items like their badge, flashlight, taser, pepper spray, backup handcuffs, zip ties)

Military or hiking style boots, sometimes chunky sneakers (extra points if none of it matches anything in their outfit)

Outline of a gun in their pants/shirt (easy to see when bending, leaning, or raising arms) (NO NOT SAY ANYTHING)

Overly friendly

Overly inquisitive

“How old are you” and “what do you know about this happening” are both red flags, along with generally odd and personal questions

Don’t fit in

Mismatched pairs in public spaces (usually cops do these things in pairs. They don’t talk to each other or acknowledge each other much, if at all)

DO NOT SAY ANYTHING UNTIL YOU ARE 100% SURE

YOUR BEST BET IS NOT TO SAY ANYTHING UNTIL THE SUSPECT STARTS ACTING OFF AND GETTING PUSHY

COPS ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO TELL YOU THAT THEY ARE UNDERCOVER

COPS CAN AND WILL LIE TO YOU

SCREAM “LA MIGRA” AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS

For protesting:

N95 masks

Respirator/gas mask if you have access to one

Water water water water water (I hate to say it, but disposable one use bottles are best here. If it comes to it, you need to be able to drop and run.) Use for flushing wounds, flushing eyes of tear gas, and of course drinking.

Snacks! You'll be doing a lot of walking and/or running and need to keep that energy up. Trail mix, dried fruit, nuts, granola bars, crackers, jerky/meat sticks, fruit snacks, candy, etc. Think of it like packing your lunchbox for a field trip.

Eyedrops (teargas is a bitch)

Goggles (I bring my old snowboarding goggles)

If you are wearing a t-shirt or have exposed skin, put on fake/temporary tattoos. If you are brought into something and they say you were there, showing a picture of you with the tattoos, show them where that tattoo would be and how there’s nothing there. How would you get rid of a giant flower on your forearm in 2 days anyways?

Hide your hair. I tuck my hair into my beanie since it’s short. If you have longer hair, try to do the same or tuck it into your shirt. Balaclavas are also a good choice, as they cover both your face and hair.

Power bank

Chargers

Helmet. Any is fine, my personal choice is a skating helmet since they’re rounder and can take more damage, but tactical is also good

Hand sanitizer

Gloves with hard knuckles (tactical gloves). These pack a good punch even if you don't have the correct form. Don't have those? Wrist guards for roller skating/skateboarding work kinda like that too. More of a slapping motion, but still hurt like a bitch. Extra points if they're all scuffed up from use and falls.

Bandanas. Somebody might need one for their face or hair, maybe you need to get dirt off somebody’s face, maybe somebody got injured. They’re great for anything and everything.

Cash (try to stick to cash, your card can be tracked)

Medications if you take them. If you get arrested or happen to somehow be away for longer than expected after the protest, it’s always good to have emergency meds

FIRST AID ALL THE FIRST AID (Tourniquet, Quikclot, chest seal, trauma shears, gauze, bandages, duct tape, and all the usual stuff you’d have in there)

Good shoes. Boots and sneakers are your best choices. Not heels, not platforms, not sandals. Good boots or shoes that won't come off your feet too easily when you run.

Spare socks. Trust me. You can use them to stop bleeding if it comes to it, but also you can put rocks in there and boom weapon. Also if the socks you're wearing get wet.

As much covering clothing as you can handle. Plain jeans, plain hoodie, plain t-shirt, keep yourself as anonymous as possible. Black is best.

Photocopy of your ID, not your real one.

Sunscreen!

Make sure your clothes have pockets, even if you have a bag. You want everything to be easily accessible.

Do not wear contact lenses. If tear gas is used, that will make everything so much worse. Wear your glasses or go blind. If you have overly unique or identifiable frames, goggles are your friend here. Get some goggles that will fit over your frames, preferably ones that are tinted.

If you use mobility aids, cover defining features. Logos, brand names, colors, stickers, all of it. Take some old plain t-shirt and tie it around your wheelchair’s backrest. Wrap your wheelchair frame in cling wrap, then duct tape, or plain black self adhering medical tape. Cover stickers on your cane or crutches the same way. Electric chair? You have a little more work, but you can do it. Wrap it up. Same idea. Walker? Same thing. Cover. It. All.

If you are bringing a bag, make sure that bag is as plain as possible. No pins. No patches. No keychains. Except maybe a pride flag so people know which team you're playing on.

Scarf or keffiyeh if you have one. They have many uses!

Write a reliable phone number (of someone who is not at the protest with you) on your body. On the off chance you get arrested, that is your emergency contact.

Pocket knife.

Pepper spray/mace

Anything you can throw. Soup for my family.

IF YOU CAN, LEAVE YOUR PHONE AT HOME

IF YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT WITH YOU, TURN OFF LOCATION SERVICES ON ALL APPS AND TURN OFF BIOMETRICS (FACE ID AND FINGERPRINT) SO YOU CAN ONLY UNLOCK YOUR PHONE WITH YOUR PASSWORD

COPS CAN FORCE YOU TO OPEN YOUR PHONE WITH YOUR FINGERPRINT OR FACE ID

MAKE SURE SOMEBODY KNOWS GENERALLY WHERE YOU ARE

If you see a potential or active raid, take pictures and note the time and location. Post online if you can, as well.

You have the right to remain silent. State that you wish to remain silent. Avoid giving information about anybody's immigration status. You have the right to refuse to sign anything before speaking to an attorney. You have the right to refuse searches of your car, your home, and yourself. Schools do not collect a child's immigration status.

I do not want to scare anybody, but this is what life is right now. That man does not care how long you have been a citizen of this country. If you are not a white, cisgender, heterosexual, Christian male, you are seen as less than by men in power. You are not less than. You are a threat to them, and they are scared. Keep it that way.

Here's the link to my post on what to bring in terms of first aid.

If you cannot attend protests, that’s fine. Do what’s best for you. Even just reposting information helps.

This is an updated version of this post,

[sleepingorshifting]

Smitten..!

pinkmermaid!reader x soft!rafe

plot : reader gets super drunk at a party her and Rafe are at, and is suddenly smitten for Rafe.

warnings : alcohol, but overall none - its just fluff :)

word count : 566

authors note : First fic, kinda nervous ;) - masterlist coming soon

"Yo Rafe, you seen your girl?" Topper asks, appearing behind Rafe, beer in hand.

"Nah, why?" Rafe asks, slowly sipping at his own beer.

"Because man" he laughs, "she's suuuuuuper drunk" Topper exclaims, also super drunk.

"Oh god" Rafe groans, expecting the worst. Maybe you'd thrown up and he would have to help clean you up, or maybe you had done something stupid like fallen into the pool.

Rafe turns around as he begins making his way through the sea of people, shoving them aside as he tries to find you, his girl.

As he steps outside where the party continued, he looked around before hearing a familiar gasp.

"Rafey babyyy!!" you giggle, throwing up your arms for a hug, two solo cups in hand.

"Oh baby" he sighs in relief, hugging you back. He takes the cups out of your hand while you were distracted as he begins asking you questions.

"Having fun baby?" he asks, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"mmhmm" you mumble, your head pressed into his chest.

"Missed you" he admits as he holds you close.

"Did you know that you smell really really nice Rafey?" you ask him, taking in the scent of his shirt.

"Wha- did I know that I smell nice? What?" he asks, confused.

"Nyeah, you smell really really really nice" you giggle. "And have I ever told you how much I love your huuuuuge bisceps?"

"Babe what's got into you?" he laughs.

Although he had to admit your behaviour was strange, he wasn't exactly complaining. It wasn't every day his girl was smitten over him.

"Nothing, just love. Loves gotten into me" you smile, pulling yourself off of him to take a look at his face. "My handsome boy" you admire as you brush your hands over his jawline with a drunk pout.

"You're so cute like this" he grins, picking you up. "But, I do think its time to go back home missy, you're too drunk" he says sternly.

"Nooo Rafey noo" you groan, kicking your legs in the air dramatically. "Put me down right now mister" you demand, grumpily hitting his chest lightly. "Or else I'm going to have to punish you, and I hate punishing cutie patooties" you say, your nose scrunching.

"Oh I'm a cutie patootie now huh?" he laughs as he unlocks his truck.

"mmhmm" you nod.

"Alright in the car now babe", he says as he opens the door like a gentleman, helping you up into your seat.

He shuts the door and walks around to his side of the truck, turning the truck on.

"Seatbelt baby" he reminds. After getting no immediate response from you he turns to see you asleep, leant against the window. He sighs as he does the seatbelt up for you, and leans your chair back slightly so you would be more comfortable.

As he was about to start driving he pauses for a second, turning to face you as he looked down at your sleeping figure. He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head before driving off into the night, leaving the roaring party behind.

The entire drive back, he kept stealing small glances at you, making sure you were sleeping soundly and comfortably, occaisionally patting your head lightly.

Maybe it wasn't just you smitten tonight, but Rafe as well. But I guess you probably won't remember in the morning anyways...

[theromanticjedi]

Viktor was a smart man- IS! He is a smart man, but Jayce, gods he makes Viktor feel so stupid.

Jayce x Viktor

Warnings: Talk about real world probloms?

A/N: Viktor is an Enviormental science student who is active in political and social probloms. He works at a small student owned human rights campain and makes posts about it on his socials. Jayce is an Engineer student. Who works at a small restaraunt. And helps Viktor figure out logistics. As a viktor kinnie looking for my irl Jayce, I approve this message.

"Okay, maybe choosing not to live in the dorms was stupid." Viktor huffs as He and Jayce walk back to their flat after classes. "Better accomidations at the flat." Jayce says not really looking up from his new work scedule, untill Viktor stops him from walking into traffic. "Eh, I could handle the stairs but walking in the cold, no." "Could you?" Jayce says a little dazed from getting pulled. "I dunno, probably." "But could you handle living with classmates?" Jayce smirks. "Eh, I live with you." "But thats diffrent." Jayce laughs as Viktor opens the door to the appartment building for him. "Is it now?" Viktor hums as Jayce unlockes the flat. "Isent it?" Jayce responds faking heart brake. "I mean, you are a classmate that I live with." Viktor reasons. "But you like living with me." Jayce smirks as he starts rummaging through the cabnits. "Hm." Vik hums as he lays his bag on his bed and starts taking out his home work. "Dont you?" Jayce says starting to dig into a bad of chips. "I suppose so. And dont eat all of thoes." Jayce smiles at that. "Would you rather cook?" Viktor thinks about it for a moment. "No. Order in, I have, eh a lot of work to do." "Homework?" Jayce asks placeing an order for there regular meals. "Mhm, and some personal studies." Jayce nods looking up at Viktor. "What kind of personal studies?" Viktor pulls off his sweater in favor of his "homosexual tendencies" t- shirt. He tried not to smile when he sees Jayce blush. "The normal kind." Jayce smiles and hands Viktor a hoodie knowing he gets cold. "Good luck saving the world, V. Ill text you when the food gets here." Viktor smile as Jayce once again proves how perfect he is. Trading his black jeans and stability brace for ball shorts and a fabric brace, he climbs into bed and opens his laptop. The image of him and Jayce doing some cheap face masks they got greet him. He hates to admit that he likes Jayce, and he wont unless directly asked. After a few minutes he hears his phone buzz but ignores it favor of a study about low life expectancy in low income areas.

Jayce lays all the food out on the coffee table and checks to see if Viktor has responded. When he sees he hasent Jayce decides to go get him. "V? Food's here." Viktor pushes his glasses up by rubbing his eyes. "Ah, yes. Sorry." Jayce gives a sentimental smile "No problem." After a moment they are both sitting on the couch food in hand and scrolling through tv. "Hey, V?" "Hm?" Viktor responds a mouthful of food. "...I dont see you as another classmate." Jayce confesses not making eye contact. "What do you mean, Jayce?" Viktor asks trying to decipher what exactly Jayce ment. "I mean, I feel close to you. I like you." Viktor laughs "Thats a relief, it would suck if you hated your flat mate-" "Viktor. I like, you." Jayce says more firmly looking at the other man now. "Oh." Viktor says quietly. "I..Im not good at talking about feelings but..I like you too."

A/N: i kinda lost modivation for this ive had a long day, but if you want more of this au or if you have any advice please shoot me an ask. Im always looking for inspo and mutuals.

[louthinking]

Who would get purple nails because of some robot nerd that’s cringe I would never-

Also Brian bag cameo I don’t think I posted that here eathwr LOL

[inkedells]

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than your sick love. He doesn’t think you love in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

Logan closes them. “I’m tired,” He says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Ezra Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas, with a kind of slippery urgency that tells you he's trying to shut you up more than he's trying to satiate his own desire.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.” 

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean, play with me?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it. 

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

 You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are. So you keep taking it, until Logan can no longer successfully suppress his moans and his hips are jerking out of rhythm.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling this identical need. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion, and it does. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you, filling you extraordinarily with only a few inches.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again. 

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

He groans as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster as you swap his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back to let you swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ONE FOR THE MONEY, TWO FOR THE SHOW

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you and satoru, your fake boyfriend, have awards to accept and places to be. so how'd you two end up fucking in a bathroom? NSFW

contents: fem!reader. semi-public sex, p –> v, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, you two get walked in on at the end (kinda). references hungry for more. not proofread, ignore any minor mistakes. 3.5K words.

“you two are so cute together,” the interviewer sighs, looking at you and satoru in turn. “please, tell us more about your relationship!”

satoru laughs, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his side. you put on a smile and instinctually put a hand on his chest, pretending not to notice the way he stiffens up at the contact. “where do i even begin?” satoru asks dryly, turning and looking down at you affectionately, and he’s almost a good enough actor for you to believe there’s any real emotion behind those cold blue eyes.

two weeks ago, satoru’s media team came to you with a request for you two to start dating as a way of gaining more attention from your fans. naturally, you declined—it’s not like you’d gain anything from the deal but the burden of being paraded around on the arm of the man you hated—satoru gojo, the cocky son of some famous actor in the 90’s. but after multiple increases in the amount of money satoru’s team was willing to throw at you, you finally agreed under the condition that this arrangement would end the second you wanted it to.

“i’m sure you’ve seen our latest movie on netflix,” satoru starts, looking back up at the interviewer, whose eyes have practically turned into hearts. “the one with the serial killer, yeah? well, it started from there and just grew into more.”

“i guess you could say the attraction on the screen wasn’t all acting,” you add with a knowing smile. good thing you were a decent enough actor to pretend as if you weren’t just lying through your teeth, otherwise the millions of dollars in your bank account would all be gone. 

the interviewer laughs and turns to the camera, saying something about how the chemistry between you and satoru was what really made the movie a hit—in fact, it might even be the reason you’re both getting nominated for best actor and actress.

“well, if you’d excuse us, i think we should get back to the party,” satoru jumps in, nodding his head at the interviewer in thanks. he removes his hand from your back as you follow him to the main area, weaving through crowds of fans and interviewers on his way there. you walk at his side, heels clacking against the freshly polished floor. satoru dips his head and whispers, “hold my hand.”

you scrunch up your nose and shake your head. “no thanks, it’s not like anyone’s watching right now. it’s way too crowded.”

“just do it,” satoru mutters, grabbing your hand anyways. when you start to pull away, he fixes you with a stern look and adds, “they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t.”

“ugh, fine.”

two hours pass, filled with other actors’ remarks on how good you and satoru make as a couple. suguru geto, one of satoru’s close friends who had played a cult leader in a recent documentary even said that you might be the girl who could fix satoru. yeah, right.

“so, when do awards start?” you ask satoru, swirling your drink and relishing the sound of the ice clacking against the side of the glass. he shrugs and takes a swig from his own cup, which looks suspiciously like apple cider disguised as champagne. “really? you’re nominated for like, four awards, and you don’t even know when you’re getting them?”

satoru laughs carelessly and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on the short cut of your dress. “at this point, i’ve got so many awards that it doesn’t even matter anymore. and by the way, you look really good in that dress. oh, wait, didn’t i buy it for you?”

“you’re not smooth.”

“then why am i nominated for best actor, huh?”

“because the system’s absolute shit, obviously. otherwise toji would win every time.”

satoru groans and drinks the last couple sips of his drink, rolling his eyes. “don’t even mention that piece of shit.” you shrug in response, hiding your smile behind your glass. a couple years back, satoru had lost a role to toji and to his despair, the movie did really well, despite what he’d promised to the producers who had turned him down. and it looks like he’s still bitter over that, and all of a sudden, the perfect plan to piss satoru off appears in your head.

“look, it’s toji right there!” you gasp, setting down your drink and hopping off your seat, walking over to toji while ignoring satoru’s warnings. “oh, hi, i’m a big fan,” you say to the tall, well-built man, smiling bashfully. toji turns and looks down at you, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“hey, pretty, you’re the girl in that movie with the serial killer, yeah?” he asks, crossing his arms. you nod and internally marvel at how tall he is—especially compared to satoru, who, by any standards, is pretty damn tall. toji looks you up and down, taking his sweet time drinking in the way your dress hugs your figure. “that scene in the alley was really fuckin’ good,” toji adds conversationally. “you’re definitely winnin’ best actress for that.”

anyone who’s watched the movie knows that the scene he’s referring to is the one where you get fucked by satoru against a dark alley wall—and you’ve seen enough edits of the scene to know exactly why it’s getting all the hype.

“aw, thanks,” you say coyly, resting a hand on your hip and tilting your head. “y’know, i’ve always wanted to star in a movie with you,” you continue, hearing satoru come up behind you in the background. you ignore the sickeningly obvious way he clears his throat and flutter your eyelashes at toji, who’s eying you with interest.

“i’d like that. i can probably pull some strings,” toji replies with a smirk. his dark eyes flicker from you to satoru and his smile turns almost patronizing. “and who’s this?”

“her boyfriend. and i really hate to interrupt this friendly chat, but she’s not up for grabs,” satoru snaps, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back to your spot at the bar. you shoot satoru an indignant glare, but receive no reply besides his tightening jaw. toji laughs and waves you off, mouthing “call me” at you when you turn back apologetically. 

satoru drags you by the hand to one of the bathrooms, shoving open the door with the side of his arm and pulling you inside. there’s a long, shiny counter, which you become very familiar with once your fake boyfriend hoists you up and sits you on it. “the fuck was that?” satoru hisses, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“what, we were just talki—”

“i don’t like the way he was looking at you,” satoru interrupts, crossing his arms tensely. he fixes you with a cold stare and you fidget uncomfortably with the hem of your dress, which you now realize is rather short. 

“okay, and?” you reply irritably, starting to get annoyed by the way satoru keeps patronizing you. “it’s not like we’re even dating, gojo,” you snap, emphasizing the use of his last name.

“yeah? well, i don’t need my ‘girlfriend’ slutting herself out to the guy everyone knows i hate,” satoru fires back, taking a step forward. his palms rest on the counter on either side of your exposed legs, and you suddenly notice how red satoru’s face is. the flush in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable underneath the bar’s dim lights, but here, it’s rather obvious.

“are you jealous?” you ask incredulously, unable to suppress the cheeky smile that finds itself on your face. satoru’s jaw slackens and his eyes widen, and that’s enough of a sign for you to confirm it—satoru gojo, your fake boyfriend, is jealous. he doesn’t reply immediately, so you laugh, throwing back your head and giggling at the way satoru’s petty rivalry seems to be only one of the reasons he was so eager to get you away from toji. “aw, that’s so cute, but we aren’t even dating, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching out and caressing the side of satoru’s face.

he instantly swats your hand away, rolling his eyes at your laughter. “well, we still have to act like it, you idiot,” he mutters, leaning over you and eying the low neckline of your dress. you instinctively cross your arms and glare at him, and satoru only cocks an eyebrow in return. “so, if we were actually dating, do y’know what i’d be doing right now?”

“what?” you decide to humor him.

satoru’s demeanor completely changes at your question, going from pissed and flushed red to almost playful.

“this.” 

and just like that, satoru slips his slender fingers underneath the bottom of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your black, lacy panties. 

“gojo, what the—”

“shh, it’s all for the show,” he whispers teasingly, brushing one finger against the warm skin of your thigh. you involuntarily shiver from his touch, and against all rational impulse, find yourself wanting more.

in the acting community, satoru was well-known for being a stuck-up brat, and when you two had first announced your relationship, plenty of actors doubted it. after all, how could you, the classy it-girl of the movie industry, date an asshole like satoru? but even you were surprised at how easily people started to believe it when you two interacted in front of them. you’ve been told that you two had a rather unexpected burst of chemistry together, and that your relationship might actually make it.

what a shame.

satoru hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, raising an eyebrow when you don’t protest. he maintains eye contact with you as he slides your panties down your thighs, exposing your embarrassingly-wet cunt. satoru looks almost as surprised as you do at how soaked you are, even as he runs two fingers over your slit before sliding them in. you hate how good it feels—it’s been a while since you got a chance to sleep with another man, especially since you’ve been stuck with satoru for the past two weeks. 

“shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” satoru murmurs, scoffing in mild disbelief as he meets your eyes and smiles. he curls his fingers upwards, causing your thighs to reflexively close before satoru reopens them. “so, wanna explain, sweetheart?” he tsks, tapping your thigh with his other hand.

you make a face and look away, cheeks heating up the longer satoru waits for a response. “it’s probably from toji,” you snap back after a moment. satoru laughs sarcastically, shaking his head almost condescendingly and pulling out his fingers.

“nice try, hon,” he says sweetly, lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking off your slick in one smooth motion. satoru exhales heavily and swallows, taking his time in doing so. “want me to go grab toji to join us?” satoru asks, forcing a smile on his lips. “i’m sure he’d love to watch you beg—”

“shut it, gojo,” you interrupt, swatting away his hand, which somehow found its way back in between your thighs. “we have an award show to get to, there’s not enough time for this bullshi—”

that was a mistake. satoru instantly lifts you off the counter and, ignoring the rather wide range of curse words you throw at him, sets you on the ground and starts unzipping his pants. “shh, we got all the time in the world. they can’t give an award to someone who isn’t there, right?” satoru cooes, threading one of his hands through your hair and pulling you closer to him. his other hand finishes unzipping his pants, freeing his already-hard dick.

you look up at satoru, forcing yourself to act unimpressed—even though you know damn well he can see through your half-hearted attempt at hiding your real feelings. “s’ that all?” you ask, hating yourself for the crack in your voice when satoru laughs at you. 

“ah, i think it’ll be more than enough for your pretty face to handle. now c’mon, open nice n’ wide for me,” satoru instructs you, reaching down and tilting up your chin as he guides his dick into your mouth. against all rational impulse, you let him, all while glaring daggers at him from below. 

you run your tongue over his flushed red tip, and satoru sucks in a harsh breath, chest tensing as you continue kitten-licking him. his hand moves from your chin to the top of your head, and he pushes your mouth farther onto his dick, jaw tightening the more your tongue laps at him. 

sure, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking off your fake boyfriend in a bathroom where anyone could walk in at any time, but it’s the first time you’ve felt this way in too long, and you weren’t ready to let this feeling go just yet. so you humor satoru and moan, smiling when you feel the way his whole body loosen up at the soft vibration. “f-fuck, didn’t think you’d actually know how to give a man a good time,” satoru mutters through gritted teeth. 

“really?” you ask, pulling away from his dick for a moment to catch a breath. “we fucked for that movie, though, and you seemed pretty damn satisfied then, didn’t you?” you say in-between heaving breaths. satoru scoffs and shakes his head, pushing your mouth back onto his dick.

“yeah, but that was for a movie. this isn’t,” he clarifies, eyes fixed on the mix of spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin as you continue sucking him off. “fuck, why are you good at this?” he hisses, almost incredulously—it’s as if he was hoping you wouldn’t be this good for him for some reason, but now’s not the time to reason through it or wonder what’s going on in his mind.

satoru shudders around you, and you feel the hair threaded through your hair tighten. it’s not enough to be painful, but his grip still makes you whine from the increased pressure. his breathing becomes more shallow as you run your tongue over his length, and his foot starts to bounce on the floor as he gets closer to cumming down your throat. “shit, baby, m’ close,” satoru confirms a moment later, tilting his chin back and glaring at the ceiling. 

“fuckin’ hell, i—” he cuts himself off with a loud, lengthy groan, pushing your head even farther on his dick and tensing as the full force of satoru’s orgasm hits him. he lets loose a flurry of curse words as he cums in your mouth, filling you up to the point where it starts dripping down the side of your face. it’s hot and salty, two sensations that you normally wouldn’t put together, but in this moment it’s all you can think about as you slide one hand downwards towards your throbbing pussy.

still reeling from his surprisingly quick orgasm, satoru leans back onto the counter and pants for air. as for you, you’re starting to want some of his pleasure for yourself—so you slip two fingers inside your cunt and pulse them back and forth, needy moans slipping out of your lips at every thrust. “gojo,” you call, looking up at him and licking his cum off your lips. the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cum dripping down your lips and fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt is enough for satoru to cum again, but he forces himself to maintain some level of control.

“jus’ call me satoru,” he murmurs, reaching down and tugging you up to your feet. it’s hard to stand while your legs are trembling, but thankfully, satoru does most of the work for you by positioning you against the wall, back facing him as he aligns his still-hard dick in front of your dripping pussy. “say it,” satoru mutters in your ear, resting one hand on your waist and the other on the wall just above your shoulder. “say my name f’me, sweetheart.”

“s-satoru,” you breathe, and a moment later, your fake boyfriend—who doesn’t feel so fake anymore—shoves himself inside of your welcoming cunt. you’re already wet enough to the point where he doesn’t really need to prep you at all, but you’re still just tight enough so that every thrust feels like he’s breaking you down in the best way possible. 

“y’feel so good,” satoru groans, resting his chin on your shoulder and snapping his hips back and forth, setting a steady yet harsh pace. you stutter out satoru’s name again and again as your vision goes blurry, with your only thoughts revolving around the dick shoved up inside you and the man praising you in your ear. 

satoru curses when he feels your walls clench around him, breaths growing shallower with every thrust. “arch your back for me, princess,” he mutters, eyes fluttering rapidly as he squeezes your waist. “yeah, jus’ like that,” satoru praises, breath brushing against the side of your face as he continues thrusting into you. “how’re you feeling, pretty? s’ this all right with you?”

you nod shakily in response, swollen lips hanging wide open as you gasp for air. satoru clicks his tongue and slows his pace, dipping his chin and studying your face. “gonna need you to use your words, angel.”

“m' good, i wanna cum,” you mumble, a loud moan slipping through your lips when satoru laughs and resumes fucking you a millisecond after you answer. 

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby, i promise,” satoru whispers, and his words are barely audible over the lewd, sticky sounds coming from everywhere. all your senses are directed at satoru—the man you really shouldn’t be fucking right now, but all your inhibitions fade away as you feel your stomach start to tighten as you approach your orgasm.

“fuck, satoru, m’ close,” you whimper, arching your back even more and clenching your teeth shut. satoru sucks in a sharp breath as he confirms that he’s also about to cum, and his thrusts grow sloppier the closer he gets. “don’t stop, please, i—”

from there on, your words mix themselves together, with the only understandable word being satoru’s name. your fake boyfriend spills into you first, cum leaking from his tip and mixing with yours as you both chase your releases. and it hits you hard—if it wasn’t for satoru, you would’ve crumbled to the ground from the sheer force of your orgasm. all you can see is white as satoru finishes emptying his load inside of you, and the sticky, viscous liquid trails down the warm skin of your thighs as it overflows from your abused hole.

“shit,” satoru mutters, stumbling backwards and eyeing his now-soiled clothes. “this was a couple thousand dollars, damn it.”

you exhale a breathy laugh and turn around, leaning against the wall and meeting his half-lidded eyes. “you kidding? my dress was way more than that, and there’s no way i can wear that out now.”

satoru grins, running a hand through his ruffled hair and walking back towards you, touching your waist and sliding a finger over your dripping cunt. “you were so good f’me, baby. what were we arguing about again?”

“i have no idea,” you mumble, watching satoru lick his finger clean. he’s shameless—even as clarity returns to both of your minds, he still insists on dragging the moment on. not that you mind—that was the best sex you’d had in a while, even if it was too fast and in a bathroom.

“we should get back to the ceremony,” you say distractedly, pulling down your dress and frowning at the new wrinkles. “can i wear your suitjacket? i don’t want people to see this.”

satoru sticks out his bottom lip and pouts, looking you up and down. “but i like it. you look like you just got fucked by a really hot guy. oh, wait, that’s me!”

“you’re an asshole.”

before satoru can reply, the bathroom door opens, and you both jump out of your skins. thankfully, satoru had time to pull his pants on, otherwise it would’ve been significantly more embarrassing. suguru pokes his head in the bathroom and rolls his eyes when he sees you and satoru, and an exasperated sigh slips out of his lips when he sees your fucked-out states. 

“are you two seriously fucking during the awards?” suguru snaps, amber eyes glittering with dry amusement. you look away bashfully, tugging down your dress even farther out of embarrassment. satoru shrugs nonchalantly and walks over to suguru, offering his hand in search of a fistbump. 

suguru eyes him dubiously and crosses his arms. “did you wash your hands?”

“heh, no, not yet.”

ignoring satoru’s smug grin, suguru swats his arm away with the back of his hand, disgust evident all over his face. “gross, fuck off.” he turns to you and arches an eyebrow, looking you up and down disapprovingly. “you two should clean up before coming outside, otherwise they’ll probably take away your awards,” suguru adds, wrinkling his nose. “i’ll tell them you’re on your way.” 

“okay, thanks,” you mutter, face warmer than ever. suguru nods in response and leaves, and when you and satoru finally return to the awards ceremony, there’s plenty of whispers about you two, and most of them aren’t very family-friendly.

well, at the very least, nobody’s gonna doubt that you two were a couple now!

[togament]

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌. sakura, ume, kaji, suo.

"ever thought how it would be like to kiss them? here's how they love to do it."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : SUGGESTIVE KINDA SPICY, kaji is a mess (i’m in love), ume is a puppy man and he is needy, pls protect sakura, SUO????? SUO.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

- shy, shy SHY. You gotta guide him through it, babe. But once he gets the hang of it (and once he gets over the embarrassment), expect him to be all over you. - Handsy when he hasn't seen you for the longest time, caressing softly and he pulls you into him so tightly you feel like you'd merge into one being. if he’s pissed, his hands are fiery, all over your body, groping and pulling at your clothes. - please don't kiss him in public. not like he doesn't want to. of course he really does. but he can't take the teasing and the attention it brings. (he also can't prevent himself from blushing, ok? you know how red he gets!)

𝐔𝐌𝐄.

- BIG SMILE KISSER. Your teeth kiss before you both do sometimes. Likes holding you in his arms when he’s kissing you. God. You know those sort of movie kisses where the love interest cups the lead’s cheek so lovingly, so softly like she’s about to break? Whispers sweet nothings to the main lead before leaning in for a perfect kiss? lmao you’re definitely not having that with ume. Sorry. - He’s a goofy kisser, giggles sometimes when you both are into it. Like, he’s just happy to be there, y’know? He whispers how much he loves you, how good you smell, how pretty you are though. who am i kidding? Any kiss is a good movie kiss with ume around. - Just expect him to ask for more than just a kiss after your lips leave his. firing all cylinders too. puppy eyes, all cutesy and stuff. He’s very needy. And I mean NEEDY.

𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈.

- of course, goes without saying that kissing kaji’s sweet. If he can’t kiss you in public, he gives you his lollipop. You tease him often, twirling your tongue along the candy, puckered lips slowly sucking it in. you know he's staring. you know he's blushing. he hates how he loves it. - Once he gets you alone? GOD. he presses you up against the nearest surface and kisses you feverishly, fingers harshly tugging at the base of your head to control you the way he wants. You yelp and he takes that opportunity to ram his tongue into your mouth, only to have you suck on it like how you did his lollipop. - But when he’s not super pissed or it’s just a lazy day for him, he looooooves lazy make out sessions while listening to music with you. His hand’s on your cheek, pulling you close. Your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until you’re straddling him already. (his go to is deftones btw.) - Kaji’s kisses are fiery and needy one moment, slow and sensual the next. No in between.

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

- likes teasing before he leans in to kiss you. You could just be talking about mundane stuff and he’s looking at you with a hooded eye, gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again. Tongue darting out his lips to wet them only to pull his lower lip slightly between his teeth. He knows how to work you way too well. - He likes it when you kiss him so desperately after he teases you. With how neat and proper he is, you’d expect him to prefer slow and languid kisses. au contraire, he likes it MESSY. Tongues battling for dominance, hands yanking and threading through hair, him biting your lip when he pulls away, whispered dirty talks. - it's crazy how he pulls away from you and he looks so neat and tidy while your hair's frazzled.

a/n: ok another one before i head to bed. goodness i really do have to fix my body clock soon lmao goodnight sweetpeas~

[sonarspace]

feral, suguru geto

synopsis: suguru’s not sure how you’ll react to his new haircut. content: very filthy and NSFW! (orgasms, 69, cowgirl - kinda, mating press, messy) wc: 2.3k an: combined two requests so i hope my lovely anons don’t mind 😸. and as usual not proofread!

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞 snip, snip, snip, snip !

suguru looks up at the mirror and his identity — his once luscious long hair ... gone. immediately he regrets his decision and a frown takes home on his face.

he pulls on his hoodie and leaves the barber shop. "why did i think that was a good idea?" he scolds himself internally. "ugh, she's going to hate it. i look so stupid." he thinks as he's walking back home.

"i think it looks great," satoru chirps from the couch. he glances at satoru once before groaning, "you're just saying that so i don't feel bad. she's going to hate it man."

"no, i really am not. i think it's nice that you changed up your hair. couldn't tell the difference between you and your girlfriend when you guys would nap together," he giggles. and suguru's throwing a pillow at his face to shut him up.

he comes to pick you up at the airport. a beanie and hoodie over it to keep you from noticing his haircut for as long as he could. he sees you walk out of the airport, looking around for him. suguru's frown is immediately turning into a beaming smile when your eyes catch his and you're running into his arms.

he picks you up almost crushing you and you're a squealing mess in his embrace. you pull back and hold his face, peppering it with kisses causing him to breathe out a lighthearted chuckle.

you talk about your trip the entire ride home and he listens happily. he's glad you don't talk ask about what's going on with the beanie and hoodie combo. you come out of the shower, a small knowing smirk plays on your lips.

"don't you feel hot?" you ask him, fanning your face. "not really," he presses his lips together. 'uh oh...' an alert goes on in his brain. his heart picks up a beat at the thought of how you'll react.

you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. "what" he whines when you look at him like that. instead of making him nervous it was making his dick hard. "do you have something to show me suguru?" you ask walking towards him with faux tentative steps.

"you know, don't you?" he sighs. “satoru told me,” you giggle sitting down next to him on the couch. “come on let me see,” you tell him eagerly.

“will you break up with me if it looks bad?” he asks you half jokingly, half seriously. “depends,” you joke and he scoffs. “i’m kidding baby, i’m never leaving you” you crawl into his lap.

his breath hitches slightly when you sit directly over his half hardened cock. instinctively he wraps his arms you and drops his head to your chest.

he looks back up and whispers “go ahead”. you hold your breath as you pull down his hoodie. his usual bun not visible. your hands reach for his beanie and he shuts his eyes, afraid of your reaction. “suguru, open your eyes.” you chuckle.

“can’t. just remove the beanie and tell me you hate it already,” he says. you pull off the beanie and gasp quietly but he notices and opens his eyes immediately. a slow smiles spreads on your lips and you let out a giggle in awe.

“oh my god,” you run your hand through his locks. his hair much much shorter but his bangs were still framing his face like usual. a wolf cut. “i love it,” you squeal when your eyes fall to his. “really?” he matches your tone. “yesss. so so much. it suits you so well.” you beam.

“you look really sexy.” you add on, a blush creeping at your neck at the way he squints his eyes at you. you’re sure he can feel the wetness forming in between your legs at his half hard dick slightly prodding at your clit.

“yeah?” he asks, his face close enough you could feel his breath on your lips. his nose bumps into yours. “yeah,” you confirm.

he hums moving his lips over yours. kissing you so softly. too consumed in the kiss you start grinding in his lap. your hand tangles in his hair, tugging it.

he groans lowly into your mouth as he bucks up into you. he pulls away and bites into your exposed shoulder. “please,” you whimper when he looks at you. and he’d be crazy to say no when you look at him with a cute pout.

“what do ya want?” he asks, knowing the answer. but he wanted you to voice out. you look away and he pulls back your face to look at him – his hand squishing your cheeks cutely. “now now, don’t go shy on me when you were just grindin on my cock.”

“suguru,” you whine. “darling,” he whines back. you narrow your eyes at him. “go on. say it.” he urges you. “want you…want you to fuck me.” you huff.

“see that wasn’t so hard,” he squeezes your cheeks once more making your lips pucker and places a dirty kiss. biting your lip to watch it snap back against your teeth and smiling pridefully.

he pulls off your shirt slowly. admiring your soft skin with his lips. his mouth on your boobs licking around your nipple and sucking it in so sinfully — you felt hot in your skin. you squirm in his grip as he continues assaulting your boobs.

his hand moves between your legs and slips in your pants over your panties and you moan unashamedly. “let’s see how much you’ve missed me,” he speaks with a mischievous tone. you twitch and your head falls back when his fingers move over you panties, collecting your arousal. he lets out a contented murmur. “so wet baby, i bet i could just slide in easily.” your boob now covered with his saliva. you tug his hair and he unlatches his mouth with a pop. you bring his face up to yours and he lulls his tongue knowingly. you tilt your head slightly and suck on his tongue eagerly.

his hand moves around your neck and pushes you back, halting your movements. his nose pokes into your cheek as he rubs over your clothed clit. his breathing grows heavier as if he was the one reaching his high.

without a second thought you grab his hand still in your panties and press it closer to yourself. you move against it stimulating yourself. his fingers rub your pussy while the end of his palm presses against your clit with every jerk of your hips.

your grip tightens on the back of his neck as your head falls back and you gasp a whimper. feeling your fingernails dig into his nape has him rutting his hips into your core.

his heavy breathing hits your neck and he sinks his canines into your flesh silencing himself. you feel his muffled groans against your skin as he keeps torturing your drenched pussy and unconsciously bucking up into you.

“nghh— fuck sugu i’m” you cum with a loud cry of his name – both hands on his shoulder trying to steady yourself as you twitch in his lap. at that he finally pulls your panties aside and dips his finger into your hole. he holds his breath at the feeling of your warm arousal and the clenching of your walls around his digit.

“pussy’s so greedy. did you not give her any attention?,” he purrs teasingly. his hand still wrapped around your neck tightens – cutting off your oxygen and flooding your head with a lustful fog.

he clucks disapprovingly when you shake your head. he moves his hand down to your waist and holds you as he stands up and sits you back down on the couch – on his knees between your legs.

he pulls out his finger from between your legs and pushes it into your mouth. watching with his lips parted as you make a show of sucking your juices off of it. tongue swirling around the tip of his finger and then bobbing your head down to his knuckles.

“you’re going to drive me insane,” he growls immediately pulling you into a rough kiss. his teeth nipping your lips and sliding his tongue against yours — at last tasting you and he bellows a whine into your mouth.

he pulls down your pants along with your drenched panties roughly almost pulling you with it and he squeaks a sorry making you laugh at his excitement.

he places your legs on his shoulders and admires your glistening pussy – your sweet arousal covering every inch. he almost feels overwhelmed and his heart picks up a beat. he looks back up to you and you smile at him so sweetly he almost falls face first into your cunt.

he laughs under his breath moving closer. your hole flutters in anticipation when a cold puff of his breath patters near it. your squeal quickly turns into a moan when his tongue licks a stripe up your folds. he spreads your folds and lets a string of spit fall over your hole watching it clench.

“god, so needy. mama's not been takin care of you huh?" and as if in agreement your pussy clenches again and he laughs in amusement.

"suguru," you purr. he hums licking up your folds and then teasing your clit. "wanna taste you as well," you request. and he swears he almost comes at your needy tone. he'd be a madman to say no. he pulls you down on the floor with him. laying side by side in a 69 position.

you pull down his shorts and his dick springs up and hits his abdomen. the tip's flushed pink with pre cum covering his slit, a vein running at the side of his length throbbing under your touch. it twiches in your hand and he lets out a guttural moan.

your tongue teases his slit, gathering his pre cum into your mouth and then spitting it back on his cock — pumping him once, twice, before you decide to take all of him in your mouth. he bites down at your inner thigh at the immense pleasure feels. he bucks accidentally hitting the back of your throat making you gag. "fuckkkkk," he lets out a loud, deep groan, resonating throughout the living room.

he grabs your legs and brings you closer to his mouth. breathing in your arousal, twitching in your mouth. "ahh" you moan with him still in your mouth — he picks up the pace and starts tongue fucking you. dipping his tongue inside you, feeling your warm walls taking him in excitedly.

he tries to keep himself cumming in your mouth but you make it so hard when you start massaging his balls. he pulls away from you, unlatching his mouth. "need to be in you," he speaks with a raspy urgency. his hands move to your head keeping you there for a moment before he pulls you off of him and into his lap.

he wraps an arm around you once you take hold of his dick and sink down on him so wickedly slow. you grab his neck and bring him close. a string of saliva falls against his upper lip from your mouth. you close the space between you and lick it clean and plunging your tongue back into his mouth — both of you whining at the taste of your arousals on each other's tongue.

he leans back on one hand and starts bucking up into your heated cunt. moans of pleasure spilling out of both of you — loud enough that passerbys in the hallway felt a blush creep up their necks.

"ngh ha — baby, i'm not going to last long," he warns. you rub a finger over your clit, trying to reach your high at the same time as him. his cock head nudges against your g-spot pushing you closer — the coil in your stomach tightening.

he brings your mouth to his, kissing you — wanting to feel your moans inside him. the kiss is messy with spit dribbling down the side of both your mouths, both it doesnt stop you from trying to kiss each other.

"cumming," you bite down his lip as the coil snaps and floods your senses. your fingers scratch down his chest, leaving trails of red in its wake. he halts his hips when you start clenching around him uncontrollably and in the process milking him. you grind against him slowly wanting to make the feeling last longer for him as his ropes of his cum fills you.

he wraps both arms around you and hugs you, still sheathed in your cunt. he fills you to the brim, a bit of his cum running down your thighs and falling on his own. you gather a little bit on your finger and lick it clean, keeping your gaze on him. and he's hard again.

"you're so cruel," he adds laying you down and getting on top of you. he pushes your legs up to your chest as he starts fucking you. his hips snapping against the back of your legs. he makes you cum so hard again, all you can see is white. he falls down to your chest both of you sticky from sweat and cum running your legs.

he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. you wrap arms around each other and share endless kisses under the water. "if i knew my hair cut would have you acting like this, i would've cut it long time ago," he speaks against the kiss. you blush and hide your face into his chest, "i missed you." you feel his dick poking against your leg and you gasp "again?" and he laughs in return, "guess he’s missed you too".

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

an: comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys you don't understand how much I love these two. (Oh yeah, and Finn's there too)

Glisten: Awww~ Shrimpo, you remembered Shrimpo: B*tch I'm in LOVE with you, of course I REMEMBERED! Glisten: What!? Wait really?? This is very sudden wow! (You said you were straight?) Shrimpo: AAAAAAAAAA

Finn: (yapping) Shrimpo and Glisten: SHUT THE F*CK UP, FINN!! Shrimpo and Glisten: ... Shrimpo and Glisten: (kissing)

The first comic takes place before the two started dating. Shrimpo is really really really bad at expressing emotions other than anger and frustration, so anytime he tries to express anything, he just blurts out his feelings without thinking. Then he gets second-hand embarrassment lol. Glisten was pretty aware that Shrimpo liked him before, but he's pretending to be surprised to make Shrimpo "feel better" (also to mildly embarrass him lol).

Also, I think that Shrimpo and Glisten bonding over hating Finn is very based and true. They need that autistic man to SHUT UP/silly

I think Shrimpo and Finn are very cousin coded. Not close enough to be siblings but definitely got some familial genes going on imo (plz don't shoot me Shrimpbowl shippers🙏🙏🙏) Doesn't stop Shrimpo from being violent towards Finn tho, and Finn does nothing to deter it lol (he finds it funny). Also, Glisten throws no punches bc he doesn't want to get his hands dirty.

Finn: Sooooo?? How was the daaaate~ Finn: No need to be such a clam about it! Shrimpo: I'M SO KILLING YOU!

The second image takes place the day after this post lol. Shrimpo is recovering from a hangover covered in lipstick kisses and super conflicting emotions and Finn is NOT helping.

On the other end, I've been thinking about Shimmer a lot lol. So here is a doodle of her with her "sister aunt" Toodles, and Pebbles.

They all get along super well. In this pic, Toodles is like 12ish and Shimmer is 4 (but her weird biology made her age up to like 7 here). Pebble is pebble, that's all you need to know.

Also, I was in a horror-ish mood earlier so here are some Twisteds <33 (below cut cuz kinda scary):

I love you angst comfort. My sib pointed out while playing one day that Shrimpo looked traumatized as a Twisted, which like, fair, but it make me think.

Glisten: "They say you are not here anymore. But I think you are."

I had this silly idea that Twisted Shrimpo was infected by Dandy personally, and that whole conflict got Shrimpo's lower jaw ripped off. He is very violent and volatile, and very hard to calm down. But, when he runs into a twisting Glisten alone and scared, he comforts him (to the best of his ability).

Since Glisten is still able to be somewhat conscious, he realizes that the Twisteds are actually not completely gone like he originally thought, and it helps him keep his sanity longer, hoping for a way out for everyone.

Willpower is a crazy thing.

On the complete opposite note, I love you horrifying freak of ichor child.

Since Shimmer was made from the ichor itself with no sort of skeleton or solid foundation, her condition is very unstable. And the problem is that her body is affected by her emotions. On a bad day, she can suffer from lots of pain and her body literally melting away. That's when she hides out and waits for her body to stabilize again.

When she completely twists, her body completely falls apart, becoming a puddle of ichor on the ground. If she was an encounterable twisted, she would work like Sprout's puddle root things, but easier to maneuver around and avoid. Also, her antenna glow.

Mini yap session aside, I think I cooked on the art lol.

Anyways, the og images lol:

Have a good one pookies!

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Loyalty is Hot - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Request: "I was hoping for a fic where Reader is Adam's third wife and they meet Lucifer (maybe in a meeting?) and he states how he could take Reader from Adam as well. Adam is kind of internally panicking as Lucifer states what it took to take his other two wives until Reader gets all fed up and rudely puts him in his place. Causing Adam to get all hot and bothered for his wifey and their loyalty?"

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, semi-public sex (they fuck in a meeting room), Adam being himself, creampie, slight angst, SMUT, MDNI

You hated meetings, or waking up for them more specifically. It seemed that every time your husband dragged you to one it was at the earliest time possible, a time you'd much rather be spending in bed with him, enjoying the time of day where Heaven was at its most peaceful. It was also the time of day when Adam, sleepy and in a loving mood, was least annoying (which pained you a bit to admit, especially considering how much you loved him.)

"Hey! Wake the fuck up, babe! Don't fall asleep on me, not here." Adam nearly shouted, gently poking at you before you fell asleep on his shoulder in the meeting room. You opened your eyes with a sigh, keeping your head rested against your husband.

"Who are we even meeting with? More importantly, why haven't they shown up yet? It's been at least an hour," You questioned, a rising annoyance in your voice. Adam had sprung this meeting on you at the literal last minute, saying something along the lines of 'I need to show off my hot-as-fuck wife,' before practically dragging you out of bed; no more information given. Being the good wife you were, you accompanied him, albeit with some complaining. The last thing you were expecting, however, was for the meeting to be in Hell.

"We're meeting with Lucifer," He explained, the wide grin on his face shown on his mask. "I can't wait to see that fucker's face when he sees how sexy you are and realizes that you're all mine." One of his hands moved down to place itself on your thigh as he leaned in, smirking. "Who knows, maybe I'll even bend you over and fuck you right here on this table while he—"

You glared at him, smacking his hand away with a hiss of his name. He drew it back, letting out an amused laugh. "We are here on business," You reprimanded, an upset frown on your face. "Could you at least save the horny talk for after the meeting? Y'know when we're not in Hell?" Despite your reaction, you had to admit that the idea your husband had conjured up was kinda hot when you thought about it more in depth.

Fuck, you could see it now, feel it even. Back pressed against the table while your husband loomed over you, beautiful golden eyes staring into yours as you spread your legs for him. His thick cock sinking into you slowly, only for him to start with a quick, animalistic pace–just the way you liked it. Fuck, and the way his hands would reach out, grabbing at whatever he could; your ass, tits, thighs, anything that was soft and grabbable.

You hadn't realized the blush that had spread across your face until you saw your husband's smug grin. "Awww, did that turn you on, baby?" He cooed, almost mockingly. "Remember what you said, 'Save it for after the meeting.' Can't jump on me just quite yet." He leaned back in his chair, the grin on his face only growing as you shot him a harsh glare. As much of a lover of sex as he was, Adam loved teasing you even more.

You opened your mouth to argue back at him, slightly embarrassed by his use of your own words against you, but you were cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing. You turned your head, spotting the King of Hell himself. He looked just the way Adam had always described: pale white skin, rosy red cheeks, golden hair, noseless, and short. So short.

You stood from your seat as Lucifer approached the table, the sound of his boots against the tile of the floor filling the otherwise large, quiet room. You smiled, holding out a hand to shake, your typical behavior for business matters, regardless of who it was. "Hello, Your Majesty," You greeted politely, earning an eye roll from your husband next to you.

Lucifer returned your smile with one of his own, taking your hand and shaking it. "Who might this beautiful angel be, Adam?" He questioned, pressing a light kiss to your hand before letting it go and sitting down. Adam smirked as you sat back in your seat next to him, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in close; not letting his annoyance at Lucifer's small display of affection be visible on his face.

"This is (Y/N), my wife. She's gorgeous, isn't she? A real hottie. Did I mention she's my wife?" He introduced, taking pride in having you by his side. Lucifer glanced at you, looking unamused by Adam's obvious boast before smiling at you. "Well, I certainly hope she's happy with you. Y'know, considering your history with your other wives." He antagonized, covering it up with a polite tone.

Adam's smile faltered. A sensitive topic had been brought up, one that challenged your husband's confidence. You looked between the two, taking note of how they glared at each other with mutual hatred. Lucifer turned his attention fully onto you, leaning in slightly. "Tell me, dear. Does he even satisfy you? Are you happy with him?" You opened your mouth slightly in shock, taken back by the sudden, blunt questioning.

"Fuck you! Of course she's happy with me!" Adam growled. "She's not like those last two bitches who'd settle for you of all people, you short fuck." Despite his assertion, you could hear the doubt in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself of it, too. Lucifer grinned, sharp teeth on full display, not affected whatsoever by your husband's burst of anger.

"It's not my fault that your wives like me better, Adam," Lucifer replied snidely. "All it took for Lilith was a man who did more than the bare minimum, and as for Eve, all it took was giving her a choice of who she wanted to be with for once, and that someone certainly wasn't you."

Lucifer then motioned to you. "I wonder what it'll take for me to win your third wife over, probably not much, to no fault of her own. You're probably leaving her just as unhappy as you did the last two, Adam." You watched as Adam tensed up at Lucifer's words, any confidence now gone as he struggled to keep up his self-absorbed facade.

"T-Thats not true," He stuttered, one of the few times you had ever seen him do so in all of the years you had known him. The drop in Adam's demeanor was the final straw, and you calmly got up from your seat. Both men's eyes followed you, watching your movements closely. Even with the mask on his face, you could see the fear in your husband's eyes as he watched you approach Lucifer.

"Honey? Baby?" Adam called out to you, watch as your face morphed into one of pure anger; a sight that even scared the King of Hell himself. They both knew that you were far from happy, and that was never a good thing.

"First of all, Lucifer," You hissed, saying his name with pure malice. "I am not Lilith, nor am I Eve. I may have been created with the same purpose in mind, but let it be known that we are far from similar." You slowly got closer to him, almost like a predator stalking its prey in the most terrifying way possible. "Second of all, yes I am happy. Clearly happier with Adam than Lilith was with you, considering how she up and left you and went only God knows where. I also don't see Eve around."

Lucifer's smile fell for the first time that day, and with it, his pride. Adam watched in astonishment as you continued to put Lucifer in his place. "Finally, I need you to understand that you're far from being my type. You're a coward who barely governs his people, yet so proudly calls himself the boss. Then you waltzed in here acting like you knew me better than I know myself, even when we had just met. I love Adam with every fiber of my being, even if he's the most obnoxious jackass I've ever met."

You got even closer, causing Lucifer to lean back in an attempt to escape you. "Oh, and for the record—" You leaned into his ear. "Adam fucks me better than I'm sure you've ever fucked anyone else in your pathetic life. So, yes, he does satisfy me." You whispered. You pulled back suddenly, a smile on your face. "Is that understood?"

Lucifer gulped, nodding in reply. "Lovely." You grinned, moving back to Adam. "Now, I'm afraid we're out of time. We'll have to reschedule this meeting for another day, preferably with someone else. Maybe you can send someone in your stead? Someone who's more politically involved in your Kingdom's workings, perhaps."

Lucifer let out an awkward laugh, standing up before making his way to the door, mumbling something about how we would send his daughter instead next time, before leaving. You stood triumphant, hands on your hips as you watched his departure.

"I—" Adam began, almost at a loss for words. "Are you aware how fucking hot that was!? Holy shit—" He pulled you down into his lap, pulling his mask off before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you eagerly. He pulled you down by the hips, grinding you against him, causing you to feel his growing hard-on through the fabric of his robes. "Fuck–Please, I know you said we have to wait, but please please please let me fuck you right here. Need you now."

You grinded down, a moan escaping both of you. "Why don't you do what you said you'd do earlier, hmm? Fuck me right here on this table, Adam." He bent you over the table, and you let him pull your skirt up just enough for him to be able to then tug your underwear off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room.

"Impatient today, aren't you, hon?" You teased playfully, looking back to find him not even bothering to take off his robes, choosing to pull them up instead. He chuckled, placing his hands on your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Seeing you put annoying little fucks like Lucifer in their place does things to me, baby." He purred, thrusting in.

You let out a gasp at the feeling, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. His pace was quick from the start, hips snapping against yours as the sound of it all filled the room. "I bet Lucifer couldn't fuck you like this now, could he? No, you need a real man to show you who you belong to." Adam groaned, kissing and nipping at your neck.

"H-He could never," You stuttered, struggling to speak as your mind went foggy from pleasure. "I need—Oh, fuck!" You let out a cry as his fingers found your clit, rubbing at it. "That's a good girl, let all those pretty little noises out." He praised, the sound of your moans more beautiful than any Heavenly choir to him.

"You're so much better than those other whores," He moaned, pounding into you, eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy. "My perfect fucking wife, the love of my life—Shit—" He let out a growl as you clenched down on him. He let out a sweet laugh, hands moving up to grab at your tits while he fucked into you. "Oh? The praise turns you on, huh? You should be honored to receive it from me."

A mix of your moans and his spread throughout the room as you both drew closer to your climaxes, your shared noises growing louder and louder by the second. "Fuck," He cursed, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he rutted into you. "Gonna cum, 'm gonna fill you up. Maybe I'll even put a baby in you just to show Lucifer how in love with me you are."

"Do it—" You begged, legs quivering as he angled his cock in just the right way for the tip to graze your sweet spot. "Cum inside me Adam, let them know that I'm yours. All yours—A-Adam!" Your orgasm hit you with sudden force, the feeling coursing through you.

"Yesyesyes! Feels so fucking good cumming around me—" The sensation of your pussy contracting around him during your orgasm pushed him over the edge, and he came, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside of you.

You rested your face against the table, no longer able to hold yourself up by your arms after the energy your climax had used up. Your orgasm subsided, but your body still shook, lightly trembling from the enjoyable onslaught it had just endured. You took deep breaths as Adam pulled out of you, feeling his cum leaking out of your well-fucked cunt.

He pressed soft kisses to your neck, holding you as you both basked in your post-orgasmic bliss together. "I love you," He mumbled against your neck, smiling. "You seriously have no idea how grateful I am for you to be my wife. You're absolute perfection, sweetheart." He pulled himself off of you, sitting back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You think some sinner scum is gonna have to clean our mess up? That shit would be hilarious."

You sighed, shooting him a harsh look that he only laughed at. "Adam," You warned. "Have some respect, would you?" He laughed again, pulling you down into his lap, grinning. "Respect? Baby, we just screwed in a fancy meeting room. We are past the point of failing to show respect."

He leaned in closer to you, mischief in his golden eyes. "Now, why don't we go for a round two?"

[luvsupa]

I WANT TO HEAR YOU SCREAMMM!

summary: whatever you do, do not fuck mr.ghostface!

tags: ghostface!geto x fem!reader, naoya mention .., set in the 90s and inspired by fear street!!, smut, ōral sex (m and f receiving), knife play, slightly mask kink, humiliation kink, exhibitionism kinda, death, mentions of blood, etc, mdni

w.c: around 3.6k (sorry I got carried away …)

a/n: THANK U GUYS FOR 1.6K WAAAATTTT WE GOIN UPPPPP YEASSS

+ geto in tbis fic looks just like this fanart 🙂‍↕️

kinktober masterlist

you lean against the register, bored out of your mind as you scribble distorted faces on your company’s notepad. working a night shift sucks—especially a closing shift. you huff as the intercom blasts the latest rock song, a weak attempt to liven up the dead atmosphere. lately, the cd shop has been busy with customers buying vinyls, posters, and movies. ugh, it was so annoying having to scan the newest movie, scream. the line was always so long it nearly wrapped around the whole building!

you glance out the glass front doors, scanning the empty, dark streets, genuinely debating whether you should close two hours early since no one is coming. your attention shifts as you hear the bell ring, indicating a customer entering.

ugh.

your smile drops when you see naoya, your annoying coworker who flirts with you in the weirdest ways. he’s always condescending and putting you down until you found out from another coworker that he’s actually attracted to you. he walks toward you, standing in front of the register as if he were a customer. you honestly forgot he was still here after he said he would take a ‘five-minute’ break an hour ago.

“you don’t get paid to draw, now do you?” he says, leaning over to grab the notebook. you let him take it, but he rips the page clean, crumpling it in his fist. gosh, you hated when he acted like the manager. “anyways, I’m clocking out! must suck having to stay for another… two hours!” he laughs, glancing at the clock above. he giggles as he walks behind the counter into the bright red font ‘employees only’ room, leaving you scoffing in annoyance. you waste time fixing the decorations on the register as every minute drags by.

ring!

your heart stops when you hear the company phone ringing. who the hell calls at this hour? you pick up the corded telephone and force yourself into a professional tone.

“thank you for calling cursed tracks, how may I help you?” you say, lazily watching over the store. there’s a long pause, and your brows furrow. is this a prank call?

“hello—”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you burst out laughing, doubling over at the blatant prank call. there’s no way. it’s beyond cringey that you would be a victim of ghostface’s evil scheme. tears roll down your cheeks as you hang up the phone, your laughter still ringing in your ears. but then, you stumble backward, colliding with something solid—no, someone. your laughter halts as you slowly turn your head, gulping hard as your eyes drop in horror. screaming in genuine fear, you see him: ghostface, knife in hand, just like in the movies.

you stumble back into the counter, panic rising as you cry out, cornered in the booth. he drops his hand and bursts into laughter, and your brows furrow in confusion. he lifts his hand to remove the haunting mask, and embarrassment floods over you.

seriously.

“naoya, that wasn’t funny,” you snap, shoving him away as he continues to laugh uncontrollably. “you— you should’ve seen your face! I wish I recorded this— we would’ve been stars!” he wheezes, still amused as you find none of this funny. he continues to mimic your reaction, and you bite your lip to keep from lunging at him.

“stop wearing display costumes, asshole! you’re gonna get us in trouble,” you scold, turning away as he playfully bonks your head with the fake plastic knife. irritation washes over you.

“jeez, naoya— just leave already, you’re ruining my alone time,” you say coldly, clearly annoyed by his antics. you hear his footsteps retreating to the employee room, allowing you to calm down from his stupid joke.

you lean against the counter once again, watching over the store in boredom, your eyes feeling heavy as each minute passes. maybe you should really quit- you’re not getting paid enough for this. you roll your eyes at the ruckus coming from the room behind you—nayoa’s making way too much noise.

bastard, you mentally insult him.

you close your eyes to rest them, feeling exhausted from the long shift when you suddenly sense someone standing behind you. your eyes shoot open, and your heart drops again as you turn around to see nayoa in that damn ghostface costume.

“very fuckin’ funny, naoya,” you scoff, trying to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. he’s breathing heavily under the mask, staying still as if waiting for your reaction. you turn to yell at him, but the words choke in your throat. your eyes drop to the knife he’s gripping in his hand, and it looks too real—dripping with what looks like blood. your breathing quickens as you glance at the fake plastic knife that naoya left on the counter, your eyes twitching in disbelief.

“o-okay, naoya, you’re scaring me.”

“darling, who’s naoya?” the male voice says, distorted through the mask’s speaker. tears rush to your eyes as you see blood seeping from under the employee room door.

you step back, your back hitting the counter, trapping you just like before when nayoa scared you. the male steps closer, tears spilling down your cheeks as fear overwhelms you; you can’t call out for naoya—he’s fucking dead!

without thinking, you attempt to jump over the counter, but before you can touch the ground, you feel yourself being yanked back by strong hands. you squeal at how fast he moves, pinning you against the wall with one hand holding you in place and the other gripping the sharp, bloody knife to your throat. your eyes widen, the blade too close to your artery. if you looked up at the popcorn ceiling. you’d see the end of it—your life flashing before your eyes.

“oh pretty, you were just acting like a big girl,” geto coos, his voice soft yet terrifying. the grip on the knife loosens slightly as he pulls back his head, and your eyes remain shut, fear washing over you.

“y’r sooo fuckin’ nasty, huh,” geto comments, and your brows furrow as you stare at the creepy face behind the mask. he chuckles, and you follow his gaze down—oh fuck. you wish your body wasn’t reacting on its own! you’re grinding your hips against his knee placed between your thighs, your rhythm so subtle you didn’t even realize.

“let’s test how nasty you really get.”

those were the last words that echoed in your head as he had you behind the counter, knees grinding against the freezing floor, your jaw aching from the relentless thrusts. his thick cock slammed into your mouth with brutal force—so deep that you swore you could feel him in your chest, the bulge in your throat visible as he used you mercilessly. both of his hands gripped your head with brutal force, his long fingers tangling in your curly locks as he fucked your face like a filthy fucktoy. his groans, muffled by the infamous ghostface mask, sent shivers down your spine, the hollow black eyes staring soullessly at you as he threw his head back in ecstasy. the obscene sounds of wet gags and sloppy suction filled the store, the mess overwhelming—drool and spit spilled uncontrollably from your mouth, coating his shaft and dripping down your chin, soaking into the front of your work shirt.

your nose repeatedly slammed against his crotch, the rough patch of his pubes tickling against your skin, making you tear up even more. the strain in your jaw was unbearable, his fat cock stretching you wide, each thrust so forceful you thought your jaw might snap. but you kept your grip on his jeans, fingers digging into the fabric as your throat was pounded raw. his heavy black boot was wedged between your legs, you couldn’t stop grinding on him. each roll of your hips against his boot sent delicious friction through your core, and you were drenched, your panties soaked through your pants, sticking to your swollen folds. the slick sounds of your cunt rubbing against his boot mixed with the wet slurps coming from your mouth, each grind making you moan pathetically around his cock.

geto’s head dropped down to watch, eyes behind the hollow mask taking in the sight of you—a filthy, drooling mess on your knees with his cock buried so deep down your throat that a bulge swelled in your neck. drool poured from your lips in thick strings, and your hips moved desperately against his foot, grinding on him like you couldn’t help yourself. but he didn’t let you keep going. his movements stopped abruptly, and with a harsh yank, he pulled your head back off his cock, making you gag and cough, gasping for air. the sound of your desperate choking echoed through the store as strings of spit connected your swollen lips to his twitching tip, your eyes wide with lust and tears. the sight of you, completely ruined in your leggings, face soaked and pussy grinding against his boot, only made him harder, his cock throbbing in front of your face.

“you jus’ can’t help it, can you?” geto growls, his voice thick with cruel amusement as he grinds his boot harder into your cunt, your soaked panties doing nothing to dull the friction. the pressure sends jolts of filthy pleasure up your spine, making you cry out pathetically, your body writhing against him. his grin stretches behind the ghostface mask, those empty black eyes staring down at you, drinking in your desperation.

in a single, brutal motion, he rips you off the ground and slams you onto the counter, CDs clattering to the floor around you. your legs fly up, bent and spread wide, exposing you to him completely. his eyes rake over your body like you’re nothing more than prey. with a harsh tug, he rips your pants off, tossing them carelessly behind him. the moment his gaze lands on the soaked crotch of your panties, your clit twitches in response, your cunt clenching involuntarily, knowing what’s about to come. the fabric is practically see through now, drenched in fear and filthy arousal, and it only makes his smirk widen behind the mask.

your eyes are glossy, chest heaving as your legs stay bent up, thighs trembling with anticipation. you should be terrified, and you are—but the heat pulsing through your core is undeniable. the sight of him towering over you with that eerie mask, black eyes hollow and unfeeling, does something sick to you.

without warning, geto pulls a another knife from behind him, the blade gleaming dangerously in the store light. you gulp hard, a whimper escaping your lips as he waves it inches from your face, the cold steel sending a wave of fear coursing through you, but it only makes your cunt throb harder.

“don’t move,” he whispers darkly, dragging the tip of the knife down your neck, making your skin break out in goosebumps. the blade hovers over your chest, your nipples hardening as he traces your curves. he presses just enough to remind you of its sharpness, enough to let you know he could cut deep at any second. the threat lingers in the air, the thrill of it making your thighs tremble.

he doesn’t hesitate when he reaches your shirt. with a quick flick of his wrist, you hear the rippppp of fabric as the blade slices your work button-up clean open, exposing your bare chest. the sharpness of the knife cutting through the material like paper sends a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine.

“cheap shit,” he sneers, but the way your nipples perk in the cool air has his cock straining even harder. his hand moves lower, the tip of the blade dragging dangerously over your trembling stomach, inching closer and closer to your cunt.

you gasp when he finally reaches your panties, the cold metal resting against the swollen lips of your pussy. “y’know. . .” he trails off, voice thick with lust as he presses the flat of the blade against your clothed clit, the cold, sharp edge making you jerk involuntarily. “never had someone so . . .desperate in their final moments.”

it’s humiliating how your clit twitches at the contact, how your cunt clenches around nothing, soaked and aching for him. he notices, of course, the way your hips twitch toward the blade, and the wetness that’s already beginning to drip down your thighs.

“fuckin’ embarrassing,” he mutters, but his voice is laced with something darker—he’s getting off on this, on how soaked you are for him. the knife slides lower, grazing your inner thigh, just shy of cutting you, the scrape of the blade against your skin sending shivers through your body. you can feel your pulse in your clit, each drag of the cold steel only making you wetter, more desperate.

“this turning you on, baby?” he asks, his voice low and mocking. you can’t even respond, too lost in the filthy heat coursing through you.

with a quick flick of his wrist, the knife slices through your panties, the sharp blade cold against your slick folds. you gasp, your pussy finally exposed, clit twitching as the cool air hits your drenched core. the knife grazes your swollen lips, barely a whisper of pressure, but it’s enough to make you moan, your cunt clenching desperately.

he hums in approval, staring down at your glistening pussy, the wetness dripping from your folds, thighs trembling as you lie there helplessly. geto’s exposed cock twitches painfully at the sight, his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he drinks in how ruined you already are.

“fuckkk,” he mumbles, voice thick with lust. he lets the knife trail up, dragging it over your clit just enough to make you gasp, the cold edge sending waves of agonizing pleasure through you.

you’re fighting the urge to touch yourself, legs trembling with need, but he’s dragging it out, watching you suffer, savoring every filthy, desperate moan that spills from your lips. your cunt clenches again, dripping, aching for more, but all he does is graze the blade over your sensitive skin, keeping you on the edge, waiting for him to finally take what’s his.

without a second thought, geto rips off the ghostface mask, revealing his face in all its sinful glory. his long black hair cascades down his back, a few loose strands framing his face just right, giving him that perfect, messy look. your heart nearly stops at the sight—those silver piercings in his lower lip glint under the lights of the CD store. fuck. your breath catches as you realize just how devastatingly hot he is, a man who could ruin you in every sense of the word.

“f-fuck, mr. ghostface. . .you’re so fucking hot,” you moan, your cunt clenching involuntarily at the sight of him. he smirks, catching your reaction instantly, bringing the blade right back to your dripping cunt, but now it’s different—now you can see every twitch of that gorgeous smirk, every glint in his wicked eyes. nothing is processing in your mind at this point. you’re too far gone, body shaking as he holds all the power over you. he could do anything right now, and you’d let him.

geto leans in, inhaling deeply, letting your scent drive him mad before diving headfirst between your thighs. his lips find your cunt with no warning, devouring you like a fucking beast. his tongue plunges into your soaked hole with reckless abandon, the wet, obscene sounds echoing through the empty store. your back arches violently against the counter, the cold glass windows around the store only barrier between you and the outside world. if anyone walked by and caught sight of this—fuck, you’d be fired in an instant. but the thrill of that thought only makes the heat in your core burn hotter.

your body reacts before your mind can catch up, hands flying to tangle in his thick, soft hair, yanking him closer. he groans deep, the sound vibrating through your clit as you pull his head in tighter. mr. ghostface loves his hair being pulled—check! you think, feeling the way his body reacts to your grip, only making him devour you more ruthlessly.

his nose nudges your clit, adding to the torment as his tongue relentlessly works your insides, the metal ball of his tongue piercing sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. it’s so nasty, so fucking loud as he slurps up your juices, the slick sound echoing around the store. you can’t believe your body is making this much of a mess, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the counter beneath you. you’re losing it, completely undone by how he’s devouring you.

geto’s tongue is merciless, and just when you think it can’t get any better, he brings two thick fingers to your entrance, thrusting them in deep. the stretch makes your head spin, his digits spreading you open wide as his tongue continues to work your cunt. he groans low in his throat, the vibrations sending another wave of ecstasy through your core. the sensation of his tongue, his piercing, and his fingers all working together has you seeing stars, your walls clenching around him uncontrollably.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls against your cunt, his voice muffled but still dripping with arrogance as his fingers curl inside you, finding your sweet spot instantly. your eyes roll back, legs shaking uncontrollably as the tension in your belly coils tighter. your grip on his head tightens, forcing him further into you, needing more, more of that perfect, filthy mouth. his lips close around your swollen clit, biting at it just enough to drive you insane, while his fingers pound into you relentlessly.

you catch a glimpse of his face between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes fluttering shut as a moan slips past his pierced lips, his tongue flicking out to lick your slick from the corner of his mouth like he can’t get enough. he’s completely lost in you, ruthlessly making out with your cunt, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. the sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge, your body trembling violently as you feel your orgasm building, heat burning in your stomach, your cunt clenching around his thick fingers.

“listen to how talkative she is,” geto sneers, a wicked smirk stretching across his face. without hesitation, his free hand grabs the store’s telephone, fingers working quickly to connect it to the intercom. before you can process what he’s doing, he presses the microphone right up against your drenched, sloppy cunt.

your eyes go wide in horror as the filthy, wet sloshing of your pussy echoes through the entire store. the slick, obscene sounds of your cunt squelching and dripping around his thick fingers fill the air, amplified by the speakers. every thrust makes it squirt, the embarrassing symphony of your slick coating his fingers making your stomach drop with humiliation. you’re completely exposed, the sound of your body’s desperate reactions bouncing off the store walls, reminding you just how nasty this is.

the wet slaps, the relentless gushing of your cunt, and the squelching noises leave you utterly mortified. It’s so loud, so filthy that if anyone were to walk by, they’d hear everything—and know exactly what a mess you’re making for him. every slick, nasty sound screams your shame, broadcasting to the entire store that you’re getting off to a literal serial killer!

“look at you,” geto chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with arrogance. “so fucking nasty for me. all this for a killer? huh? you like knowing what a filthy slut you are?”

geto throws the telephone, letting it dangle by the cord, before roughly flipping you onto your stomach. your feet barely touch the ground as your chest presses into the counter- bent over, giving you a full view of the empty store. his eyes darken as he takes in your position, biting his lip at the sight of your ass wiggling back, grinding against his hard cock. you can’t help but plead, your voice breathy and desperate.

“please, mr. ghostface, you’ve been sucha tease,” you whine, turning your head to watch him as he toys with his lip piercing, eyes fixed on you like he’s weighing his options. before you can beg again, he makes his choice—sliding his fat, mushroom tip past your dripping entrance. the stretch of his tip slightly burning but- oh it felt so good. your body jerks forward with the slow, agonizing thrust, his thick crownhead teasing innn and outttt of your needy, aching walls. you cry out, wanting—no, needing—more.

desperation overtakes you, and you try to fuck yourself back onto him, but his hand comes down hard, swatting your ass. the sharp sting only makes your pussy clench harder, and you hear him tut in disbelief at how filthy you’ve become for him. “unbelievable how you’re this horny,” he sneers, gripping your hips tighter as if to hold you still.

“if you’re a virgin, just say—ahh,” you taunt- gasping loudly when his fingers wrap around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls you flush against his broad chest. his thick tip remains lodged inside your cunt, teasing you with how little he’s giving, yet how desperately you crave more.

he leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “i’d love to stay and prove your point,” he purrs, eyes flicking to the front of the store, where the bright blue and red lights of approaching police cars flash in the distance. your mind is too foggy, too consumed with lust to understand what he’s hinting at. “but baby, your little coworker—the one you never bat your pretty lashes at,” he continues, his tone darkening as his grip tightens around your neck, turning your head toward the ‘employee’s only’ door.

that’s when you see it—the large, dark puddle of blood seeping from under the door, your coworker’s lifeless body hidden from view.

“i-i don’t care, i wan’ you,” you plead, tears stinging your eyes as your walls grip his girthy tip, trying to coax more from him. geto chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he turns your head back toward the front of the store, where the police cars are getting closer. his hand slips away from your neck, leaving you trembling as he cruelly pulls his cock from your addicting cunt, leaving you empty and desperate as he swiftly tucked it back in his pants.

tears spill from your eyes as you feel him slipping away, denying you what you need. “he’s the one that ruined our fun,” geto says, his voice soft but menacing. “and sadly…” his words trail off, and you freeze as you feel the cold tip of a sharp blade pressing against your neck. you gulp hard, heart pounding as the reality of the situation sets in.

“’m really sorry, baby, but i can’t have you snitching to the police, can i?” he whispers, and with a swift motion, the blade slices cleanly across your throat. blood trickles down in a warm line, your breath catching in your chest as your body collapses to the floor. the cold tiles beneath you feel distant as your vision blurs, the last thing you see is geto standing above you, pouting as he watches the life drain from your body.

[debonairprincesposts]

well hello! what do you think about jason’s tits (those that he does not assume that are very big titties)?

Well my dear reader! I think that his tiddies don’t get enough attention. Like- imagine this:

Jason and you are just chillin’ on the couch and you wanna lay your head on a soft surface of sorts. And what do you know! His tiddies are just within reach. So, you just plop your head on there and pretend that you don’t know what your actions are doing to him. You can hear his heartbeat speeding up (he told you once before how sensitive his chest is and you just happen to put your head extremely close to his nipple. So your cheek is just moving his shirt where it lays as it just barely grazes his skin and it’s making him shudder and squirm in his seat. You smirk to yourself at his reaction).

Another time is when you feel kinda stressed and wanna just squeeze something. So, you just come up from behind him while he’s minding his business in the kitchen, and just casually cup his pecs and start squeezing and massaging them and playing with his nipples from over his shirt, twisting, pulling, and pinching while he subtly (it’s not subtle to you at all, you can read him like an open book) shakes and lets out little gasps where he stands and starts to lean against the counter for support as if to will himself to not completely submit to you and let you take him right then and there on the kitchen floor.

It’s gotten to the point where every time he spots you in the vicinity, he prepares himself and expects you to just come up from behind him and start your assault on his tits. (he doesn’t hate it, he’d just like a warning when it happens)

Every time you compliment him on having such plush, soft tits while teasing him, he quietly whines saying that they’re not tits or something (it doesn’t take long to convince him otherwise.)

I think it would go something like this:

“Look at how wonderful these are,” you say as you squish them together. You’re sat atop his lap as he lays back on the couch, shirt off. “I could play with these all day. Such pretty tits, don’t you agree, Jason?”

His breaths come out in soft gasps as you continue to twist and pinch at his chest.

“Not tits,” he gasps out while lightly shaking his head, “They’re not.” He’s tightly gripping onto your waist as you unhurriedly grind atop his groin which causes a soft mewl to escape his lips.

You grin at his reaction and grab one of his hands and place it on one of his tiddies and squeeze.

“Yeah, they are.” You say as you use your other hand to guide his chin to make him glance down. “Look at them, Jay. Aren’t they pretty?”

His face is red at he looks down at his chest, his breath catches in his throat as he takes a proper look, full of hickies and bright red bite marks from your previous ministrations. Your grinding isn’t helping at all. He might come in his pants if you keep that up. He moans as you keep up with your actions. Curious if you could get him to cum from just touching his chest and light pressure on his groin.

A reedy sound brings you back to the present (the color on his chest from your attention was distracting.) Lost in your thoughts from admiring your work. He looks mesmerizing. Eyes dilated so much that you can barely spot the teal of his irises, his eyes appearing almost completely black. His face is practically the color of his helmet, it’s almost impressive. Shudders leave his body as he completely sinks back onto the couch.

You use the hand that grasping his chin to point it to the side as you lean in to leave more bruises on his neck, your grinding unfaltering. His moans increase in volume as you bite and suck on his sweet spot right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

The hand that’s on your waist twitches, his mouth opens in a silent moan as he gasps loudly while throwing his head back on the back of the couch as he gives a full body shiver, cum staining the inside of his pants.

You stop your actions as you take a minute to admire the fucked out look on his face.

You lean your face close his ear as you say, “Think your tits are pretty now, Jay?”

He shivers from the air brushing against his ear. He nods with a quiet whine, sounding out an almost inaudible “uh-huh”, unable to get any more words out.

You grin in victory, “There you go.”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

I think I went over board. It was only supposed to be a few sentences long.

Didn’t even know I could write like that.

Anyway! Hope that answers your question!

[narnian-neverlander]

For You, Always [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.” He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Word Count: 4,7k

Warnings: slight angst, self-worth issues (both of them need a freaking hug), internalized ableism, talk about a non-consensual relationship (nothing explicit/graphic or sexual, but reader’s ex is clearly an abusive, ableist pos)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Jayce is playing matchmaker, because both Viktor and the Reader have such bad self-worth issues, they’re not gonna get anywhere unless he whacks them over the head with his hammer

“According to Mel, he is an absolute ass, but unfortunately one of the most influential people in Piltover, so—“

“Unfortunately, he’s also kinda, sorta my ex…” you mumble into the rim of your glass, interrupting Jayce and it is comical, cartoonish almost, how his head turns to look at you so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap. Not to mention Viktor accompanying his reaction perfectly by choking on his own drink. You watch Jayce open and close his mouth several times until he finally settles on: “That guy? Seriously? Didn’t think that was your type…”

He casts an incredibly unsubtle, overly obvious glance over at Viktor as he says this and you would’ve loved to strangle him for it; thankfully the man in question is too busy coughing up fancy champagne to notice, he does however manage to get out a “Oh please tell me you lost a bet.”

Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you shake your head. “Gods, I wish. Just… young and stupid and naive and always too eager to please and — and he’s coming this way. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” You all but flee the scene about to unfold, grabbing another glass off a passing waiter’s tray as you make a break for the nearest balcony. Your friends watch you disappear into the crowd with worried frowns; Jayce’s statement of “Probably a pretty bad breakup…” getting answered with an eye roll and a heavily sarcastic “You think so? I never would have guessed.”

The next hours are spent hopping from hiding spot to hiding spot, snatching drinks and snacks off trays whenever you manage while keeping an eye out for your personified worst nightmare. By some godly miracle you manage to utterly avoid the man and the next familiar face you spot when you dare venture back into the crowds is the Man of Progress himself, surrounded by nobles and merchants alike, polite smile on his face as he makes conversation. A polite, fake smile in danger of slipping that you spot from a mile away. Catching a glimpse of the band getting ready to strike up another song, you decide to be merciful and rescue him. It’s not entirely selfless though, as you figure if the asshole does end up spotting you, watching you dance with Piltover’s very own golden boy might be a good enough repellant.

“Excuse me, Mr. Talis?” Relief floods his features as he turns around to find you right behind him, having shoved your way through the circle of admirers. “I hate to interrupt, but you did promise me a dance. You’re not the kind of man to go back on his word are you?” Voice all sweet and coy and honeyed, batting your lashes at him; the picture perfect flirt making starry eyes at the man leading the city of progress into a brighter future. And it takes all he has not to burst out laughing, because he’s seen this from you before, except it’s usually not him on the receiving end of it, but his partner. It is charming, endearing even, he will admit. No wonder Viktor can never say no to you when you look at him like that. And right now he’s beyond elated you’ve decided to play his saving grace for some reason, so he wouldn’t even dream of turning you down.

“Of course not. If you’ll excuse me.” he states, ignoring any protests from bystanders and guides you to the dance floor with a hand on the small of your back. He leads you into a waltz and waits until you’re swallowed by dancing couples until he lets his face drop into an exhausted grimace. “Oh sweet Gods, thank you. Anymore of that and I would’ve driven the cocktail sticks into my ears.”

“You’re welcome. How did you even end up like that, though? Where’s your better half? He’s usually pretty capable of getting you both out of situations like that.” He sends you a knowing grin as he spins you. “Oh so you think he’s the better half? Ouch.” It earns him an eye roll, but you’re smiling nonetheless. “Like you don’t know I have a favorite. Now answer the question, golden boy.” There’s hesitation before he answers with, “He went home for the evening.” and you almost fumble your next steps. “Excuse me? The bastard begged me to come along for weeks and now he just ditches? The only reason I agreed to come was because he actually promised me a dance.”

Jayce hems and haws and you’re ridiculously close to intentionally stomping on his foot to get him to cough up an explanation; luckily for him he manages in time. “No, no, it’s more like… I sent him home cause if he would’ve had to be in the same room as your ex any longer, I was genuinely afraid he’d take the guy’s head off with his cane.” The laugh that bubbles up from your throat is joyful and real; Jayce has always been good at defusing your irritation with humor. It takes another few seconds and another look at his face to realize that he’s dead serious and your laughter dies on your tongue, leaving behind the taste of ashes. “You can’t be— He— What?! I left you guys for two hours max!”

“Yeah, well…” he starts as he dips you, “your ex has a way of getting under people’s skin.” No shit. But you’d honestly thought Viktor was above it. “What did the asshole do? Dismiss Hextech as an obsolete fantasy?” Shaking his head, he leads you into another turn. “No, quite the opposite, actually. He was incredibly interested, but his demands for becoming a sponsor were ludicrous, to put it mildly. Final say in the direction of Hextech, majority of the shares, unrestricted access to all stages of development and… you.” This time, you do stumble over your own feet in shock, falling straight into his chest. “Pardon?!”

The poor man looks as uncomfortable as you feel as he explains. “Apparently he saw the three of us talking earlier and one thing led to another and— fuck, I don’t know what happened between you, but that man is absolutely not over you. For some reason that is entirely beyond me, he was under the impression that because we’re friends we’d somehow be able to coerce you into being with him again. And the way he was talking about you? Gods, it made me wanna punch him in the face; it was so utterly vile I can’t even repeat it. Scratch that, I just really don’t want to.” All things considered, you’re glad for his hands steadying you, cause the room’s spinning even without the dance you’re still enagaged in and you feel like you’re gonna loose all the fancy hors-d’oeuvres from earlier on the polished marble floor any second now. “Great. Lovely. Perfect. And how exactly does Viktor fit into this now?”

He sighs. “Honestly, I can’t repeat what he said either.” This seems to ground your spiraling for a moment and you cock a brow at him. “Are you kidding? He’s usually pretty eloquent.” To say you’re surprised when he snorts in amusement would be an understatement. “I mean I literally can’t repeat it, because he was so utterly livid, he slipped into his mother tongue and while I can’t be sure, it didn’t exactly sound like he was complimenting the guy.”

Finally all the pieces click into place and when they do, you slow your steps to a stop and blink up at your friend owlishly. “He… Viktor got upset on my behalf?” The way he so openly laughs at you makes your ears burn and your fist connects with his chest in a halfhearted punch. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that!” Catching your hand as you ready yourself for another swing, this time aimed at his stupid, handsome face, he reigns in his laughter and simply smiles at you; not mean spirited or teasing, but shockingly gentle and sweet. “You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?”

The anger and embarrassment in your veins all but evaporates, replaced by something soft and warm; heat gathering at the back of your neck and the balls of your cheeks for an entirely different reason now. Your mouth drops open as you try to formulate some sort of response, only to fail miserably; incoherent stuttering and beginnings of words the only thing you manage to produce. The music finally fades out and is replaced by applause for the band as your friend chuckles and inclines his head towards the door. “You should go talk to him.” A glance over his shoulder shows you the gaggle of potential investors you’d saved him from earlier already making their way towards you again. “And you’ll survive if I leave you alone with these people?” An overly dramatic sigh is your answer. “I’ll gladly sacrifice myself for your happiness.” The ‘my hero’ he gets in return is dripping with sarcasm as he winks at you and makes a shooing motion towards the exit, then turns around to head back into the fray, giving you a clean escape.

Freezing winter air hits you as you exit the venue; bitingly cold but a welcome change from the sweltering warmth of the gala nonetheless. Starting left, you catch yourself after only a few steps to reconsider. Left would be Viktor’s apartment. Right would be the lab. You know him better than that, don’t you? So you change directions, readjusting your scarf over your nose. It’s a relatively short distance to the academy, even so your fingers are starting to go numb when you reach one of the big, heavy doors leading inside. The hallowed halls are quiet and dark, making the high ceilings and ornate walls seem even more imposing than usual as you make your way towards the lab with hurried steps. It all feels like you’re doing something illegal - or maybe it would, if all the security guards hadn’t seen you hang around the two Hextech pioneers often enough for you to know all their names by heart at this point. Arriving at the lab, first glance tells you it’s as empty as the rest of the building. Except for the tiny sliver of light peeking out from under the door. Bingo.

You gingerly, quietly press down on the handle, not wanting to involuntarily startle the man you know to be inside, just in case he’s handling something explosive. One experience like that had been enough to last you a lifetime. You’re in luck, as you instead find him hunched over one of the desks, furiously scribbling notes onto various scattered pieces of paper, muttering under his breath. The small lamp at his side casts deep shadows across his face, but you’re still able to make out the frown; thick eyebrows drawn together in irritation and lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t possibly still be upset about what happened at the gala, could he? No, impossible. Preposterous. Idiotic. He’s hit a roadblock in his equations, that had to be it. But seeing as you’re not in any danger of accidentally causing him to blow you both to pieces you make your presence known to him.

“I do believe Jayce told you to go home, didn’t he?” Viktor almost drops his pen in alarm, swiveling around on his stool to find you have sidled up to him, leaning against the desk, in the process of ridding yourself of your coat and scarf, an amused grin on your lips. He puts a hand over his racing heart, as he says “And a heart attack is a fitting reprimand for my crime in your eyes, yes?” You only raise your brows in return, smile slipping from your face, disapproval obvious in your eyes as they flit towards the clock in the corner of the room for just a second; it’s the same look he always gets from you when he’s working when he clearly shouldn’t be. Running a hand through his already messy, chestnut hair, he shrugs. “I simply didn’t feel particularly tired when I left.”

“So I’ve heard.” you muse and pick up a random cogwheel from the table to fiddle with. “Apparently you had some… disagreements with a potential investor?” He clicks his tongue in annoyance and all but chucks the pen still in his hand across the desk. “Potential investor, don’t make me laugh. That appalling, pathetic excuse of a man shouldn’t be allowed in a five mile radius of anything Hextech. Or a five mile radius of you, for that matter.” Humming in both agreement and intrigue, you continue with what’s really been eating you up. “Jayce said you hit him with some choice words. Mind repeating those for me?” A sideways glance your way to confirm you’re certain and then he launches into a repeat of his rant from earlier that evening. He gets about three or four words into it before you throw the cogwheel at him; it bounces off his shoulder and lands on the floor with a ping. “Oh someone thinks he’s particularly funny tonight. In a language I understand, maybe?” Try as he might to hide it, you catch the corners of his mouth tugging upward slightly. “That’s not what you asked of me, though.” Know-it-all bastard.

“Oh how dare you?” Hopping up on the table for additional theatrics, you grip your chest in mock offense and throw your head back dramatically. “Here I am, having braved a journey of freezing winds and complete darkness, to bestow my thanks upon you and you don’t even have the courtesy to thrill me with a retelling of your courageous deeds. Disappointing, truly.” A pointed cough into his fist does little to hide the laugh at your antics. “Please, the venue is a ten minute walk from here and all the streets are lined with lanterns. You’ll need to try a little harder, miláčku.”

Huffing, you run a hand over your face, desperately trying to hide how much the nickname affects you and give you a second to think. Your salvation stares at you from the other end of the lab, the golden horn of the phonograph glinting in the light of the moon that filters through the windows. And he immediately knows he won’t like what comes out of your mouth next, with the way your eyes flash and your lips curl in an absolutely wicked smile. “Well you see, I still haven’t been paid for tonight.” Confusion is clear as day in both his face and his voice. “I do not recall discussing payment for your participation in the gala…?”

“Oh but we did!” you giggle as you hook your foot around the center of his roller stool to drag him closer, very much enjoying the look of utter shock on his face and the slight graze of his hands on the sides of your things as they land on the desk next to you to try and regain his balance. “A certain someone promised to dance with me if I showed up. Guess who ditched before he made good on that?” At least he has the courtesy to look sheepish, a little knowing ‘Ah…’ sound escaping him as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and drops his gaze to his lap. With how the night had gone, he’d genuinely forgotten all about it. And before the night had even started he’d hoped you’d forget. He really should’ve known better. A finger enters his field of vision to poke him in the chest. “You’re in luck; I am nothing if not merciful, so I’ll leave it up to you: a dance or an explanation. So what’ll it be, darling?”

He’s beyond grateful you can’t get a proper look at his face at the moment, with how pink he knows his cheeks to be, lest you realize how much the nickname actually affects him. And this shouldn’t be such a hard choice, really; the way his heart stutters at just the thought of either, he should be doing both. Besides, you deserve to know. Deserve to know that he’d told that pompous swine to go choke on his wine the moment he’d as much as uttered your name. Told him that he shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air as you, much less be allowed close enough to touch you. That he could amass as much money and power as he liked, he’d never be worth even a fraction of you.

You deserve to know all of that. And yet he doesn’t tell you. Because while he did what he did for your sake, it had still been selfishly motivated. Because if he tells someone interested in you off, then at least it feels like you’re his, even for just a second. Because the irony of the situation is that while your ex might be undeserving of you, so is he. For different reasons, yes, but he feels it’s true nonetheless.

So he doesn’t tell you any of it, his personal demons are not your burden to bear after all, simply grabs his cane in silence and walks over to the phonograph. Slow notes of a gentle melody fill the air a few moments later, as he turns and offers you his hand.

And you’re absolutely shell shocked, to say the least. This is… not the choice you’d been expecting. Words are his forte; he’d always choose them over physicality if given the opportunity. Or so you’d thought. This doesn’t make sense to you; why was he so desperately trying to keep what he’d said about you a secret? Or had Jayce completely misunderstood the situation he’d recounted to you and Viktor had never said anything about you at all? Why would he bother to anyways? You and your past demons aren’t his burden to bear, after all. The uncertainty must be written all over your face, as you’re met with a concerned, “Are you alright?”

It’s a simple enough question, with a simple enough answer, yes or no, but all of a sudden, you’re a child again. Sitting bruised, bleeding, soaked to the bone and crying your little heart out in the shallows of one of the offshoots of the river, an altercation between you and some other kids having turned out to be another case of you biting off more than you could chew. And then a little pale hand holding out a dirty handkerchief had appeared in your peripheral, belonging to a small, lanky boy with a cane and big, worried golden eyes.

Are you alright?

You hadn’t known him then. But you’d taken his hand anyways. Had decided to trust him. He’d never once let you down since and you have no reason to doubt him now. So you do the same thing in this exact moment as you did all those years ago: just take his hand and trust him.

He pulls you flush against him, hands linked behind your lower back, your own coming up to rest on his shoulders. It’s nowhere near as elaborate and elegant as your waltz earlier this evening, more of a simple swaying from side to side, but it doesn’t have to be. Not for you. Not as long as it’s him.

Smiling softly, you say, “A dance with each one of the Hextech geniuses in one night. I must be the luckiest person in Piltover.” He hums in acknowledgment. “And do you have a preference?”

“Oh come now, that is an utterly unfair comparison.” And your heart aches at the way his face falls just the tiniest bit. “I’ve had my preference for years, regardless of dancing abilities; poor Jayce never even stood a chance.” It’s quiet and subtle, barely more than a deep breath in and out, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “Don’t tell him that, it’ll break his heart.” In direct comparison to him, the bark of laughter that escapes you is loud and boisterous, only amplified by the muted, soft atmosphere surrounding you both. “Please, he knows. He’s been yanking my chain about that for a bit.” Not that you particularly mind; it’s a chain you wear proudly and for all to see after all. You’d shout your love for this man from the highest towers of Piltover if only he asked. “Besides…” you start while tucking your head into the crook of his neck, “I’m here dancing with you because I want to be. I really only danced with Jayce because I thought if… if you-know-who saw it, it might keep him off my back a little longer.”

A slight turn of his head has him nuzzling your hair; the hushed whisper of your name almost sounds pained as his arms tighten around you protectively. He isn’t sure what exactly happened between you and your ex, but he’d be willing to bet that the nature of your relationship hadn’t been… consensual. It’s plain to see that the man scares you and it makes him sick. Angry. Desperate. But most of all, he’s disappointed - in himself. The conversation him and Jayce had had with him had been one thing; the bastard knew how to behave at least somewhat diplomatically while there were people of importance present. Of course, Jayce, and by extension, you, couldn’t know that he’d had the misfortune of running into him yet again while he was leaving. He’d had to listen to that waste of oxygen in expensive clothing talk about you like you were nothing more than a filthy piece of his property yet again and this time around he hadn’t managed to remain even remotely civil. Had thrown every curse and threat under the sun in two different languages his way. Had hissed at him that he’d turn him inside out if he ever even looked at you again - only for the pig to laugh in his face, pat his cheek condescendingly and give a disgusted, embarrassed look at his cane, telling him that he was ’welcome to try’ before vanishing back into the crowd. Viktor had wanted to scream at the top his lungs; it had been a while since he’d felt so utterly livid, yet so humiliated and useless at the same time.

And here you are, wanting to thank him for some courageous, chivalrous deed he didn’t actually commit. Looking at him with the biggest eyes, like he’d hung the stars in the sky just for you, when in reality, he couldn’t even properly defend you against someone who’d clearly hurt you. He has to tell you. He’s not the hero you think him to be.

“About what I said to him—“ is as far as he gets, as you promptly cut him off with, “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter.” Not even ten minutes ago, you were essentially blackmailing him into spilling this secret and now you don’t care anymore? “I would argue that it does.” He feels more than sees you shake your head, your hair tickling his cheek. “You stood up for me, right? That’s all I have to know. It’s enough.”

Anger and disgust come back full force, choking him like bile rising in the back of his throat, not aimed at you, never at you, but at himself.

“It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh and bitter and cold.

“It’s plenty.”

Soft and sweet and warm, the exact opposite of his own words in every way; the reassurance and comfort he’s supposed to be offering you dripping from every word. When did your roles get reversed? You’re the one in distress and you’re comforting him? He’s not just useless, he’s absolutely pathetic. And even though you might be none the wiser to his self destructive thoughts, some part of you seems to know; it always seems to know as your fingers dance across his shoulders to busy themselves with the hair at the nape of his neck, calming his nerves.

“I haven’t had— I mean, no one’s ever— Most people—“ A sigh, a clear sign of frustration as you try to get your thoughts in order, warm breath fanning over his neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. “I can count the people who ever stood up for me over the course of my life on one hand; I mean, my birth parents never even bothered to. So knowing there’s someone who has my back, even when I’m not present? It’s…” Pulling back to look at him, his breath catches at the way the silvery light from outside empathizes the affection in your eyes and the tenderness of your smile. “It’s a nice feeling. Thank you.”

His hand is moving before his brain has time to play catch up, cupping your cheek and all but melting when you nuzzle into his warmth, eyes fluttering closed.

“For you? Always.”

He’s not sure he’s ever seen you look quite so peaceful and at ease and it feels like his heart is gonna jump right out of his chest; his gaze is drawn to your lips before he can fully think about what that could entail.

He watches your lips part slightly and when he manages to wrench his golden eyes back up, he finds yours already on him, wide in astonishment and he knows he’s been caught red handed.

And you consider yourself most fortunate, cause if he’d looked up even a second earlier, he would’ve caught you staring. The air is heavy and promising and whoever makes the next move decides wether or not things between you both are gonna change irrevocably.

Tonight, you’re the one that makes that decision. The decision that you’re not ready for things to change. You like what you have and are too scared of losing it. Instead, you settle for something different, yet just as poignant and important; a clear and explicit expression of love for people from Zaun. Softly tugging on his neck, he goes oh so willingly, happily even. You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.”

He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Neither one of you notices the music coming to an end, replaced by the scratchy static of needle against vinyl, too wrapped up in the moment, in each other. A bell tolls outside, signaling the coming of midnight and just like in a fairytale, the spell you seem to be under comes to an abrupt end. With a deep breath, you step back, putting some much needed distance between you, if you want your brain to function properly again, that is, and clear your throat awkwardly. “I uh… I should be getting home. Some people still have a regular day and night schedule, unlike you.”

With a small smile, you go to gather your coat as he switches off the phonograph. When he turns back to you, his heart falls in disappointment; you’re already dressed and halfway to the door. He would’ve liked to walk you home, at least, but you honestly look like you’re fleeing from something; he apparently has imposed on you enough for tonight. Pausing with your hand on the handle, you call his name again, delicately, quietly. When your gaze finds him, you’re pleased to find his full attention already on you.

“Next time you’re pulling an all-nighter… save me another dance?”

And with the way his golden eyes start to shine like the stars and his beautiful lips quirk up into that crooked half smile you adore, you can almost believe Jayce’s words - almost.

You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?

“For you? Always.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

thinking about LOGAN HOWLETT – 18+

mdni, fem!reader // wc: 506

With Logan, sex is either one of two ways. It’s either quick and rough and hateful, or it’s the polar opposite: slow and gentle and loving. It all just depends on how self-loathing he feels. How much he’s had to drink.

Today, it was the latter. 

He hovers above, caging you to the mattress, one arm bent beside your head, supporting his weight – the other extended down to one of your thighs, thick fingers pawing at the chub, keeping your legs open. 

His cock is heavy as he rocks into you, the slow, unrushed pace letting you feel all of him. Letting you satiate your every need. The deep, irregular pumping of his dick leaves you gasping for air – leaves you grasping at the skin on his back. The sheer thickness of cock hazing and blurring any cohesive thoughts in your mind.

The hand on your thigh moves to the side of your face, large, hairy hand clasped to your cheek – keeping you there. His palm is warm over your jaw, loose hold tilting your head back, making you look him in the eye as he fucks into you with that same mind-altering, leisure rhythm.

Strokes are slack, unrushed, the full length of him consuming you in a way so intoxicating, so fulfilling. The grinding into your cunt knocking broken, choked-out noises from you.

His thumb hovers over your bottom lip, the pad skimming over the plump of it – the act itself dominant and assertive. His gaze remains locked on you below, eyes following the movement over your lips, watching those tiny microexpression-like reactions splay across your face.

But during those moments when he looks away, they’d be on some other part of you, on another part of your body – eyes taking in the lewd image of you underneath him. Gaze darting over your chest, taking note of the soft bounce of your tits – his steady thrusts knocking them in gentle circles.

Though, he can’t help but touch them, the hand on your jaw moving to the swell of one of your breasts, large palm rolling over it – thumb teasing at the nipple, swirling the mound with featherlight touch.

And when that time comes when you both meet your end, only then would he make some more noise – deep grunts and groans muffling between the close distance as he cums into you, the guttural sounds making up for the previous irregular moments of quiet. 

While he eases himself from you, he brushes over your cheek – the act soft and sweet as he leaves the warmth of you, the comfort of you. Sliding on his jeans, he makes his way over to the dresser – pouring himself a drink and lighting a cigar. His eyes focused on you from across the room, not shying away from your glances. 

You couldn’t help but stare, especially now when he exudes nothing but sheer manliness: his v line prominent above his low hanging jeans, happy trail beaded with sweat, and most importantly, the best sight of all: his glistening toned chest.

okay cool got that outta my system, totally normal now. also kinda hate this? but was the first thing I wrote properly in over two weeks so yay

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Gala Buddies

Sam Manson glares out across the sea of the rich, snobby ‘elite.’ The people mingling with one another, all fake smiles and false niceties slipping from their lips easily. Every face a mask they put on to hide their true selves from the view of the public. They made Sam sick. She hated Galas, particularly the ones that took her away from Amity.

So of course, her parents had insisted that they simply must attend the gala in Gotham being held by none other than Bruce Wayne. They couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to see their old pal again.

Though Sam thought it was more like they wanted to suck up to the man for some business venture.

Or try to set her up with one of his sons again.

At least she got to see Gotham’s architecture. That was a positive, she concluded. She’d get some cool photos out of the trip to show Danny and Tucker back home. And maybe she’d get to see one of Gotham’s infamous vigilantes up close, she could try to learn anything from gauging the way they handled themselves that might be useful for Danny.

Sam readjusted her stance, the fabric of the obnoxiously pink dress making her legs itch uncomfortably. Her mother had gone through her luggage before they left when Sam hadn’t been looking and slipped in the monstrosity she was currently wearing, and removing the dresses she had selected for this torturous night. She was becoming moodier, and ‘crabbier’ as Tucker and Danny might have put it, by the second.

Maybe she could ‘accidentally’ trip into the chocolate fountain and ruin the dress. At least then she’d be getting some form of retribution for being forced into the frilly cocoon of humiliation. And it’s not like her parents would be able to scold her too much in front of all the other rich schmuks attending the party. As Sam was eyeing the chocolate fountain she noticed in her peripheral vision a person approaching her.

“Not in a party mood I take it?” Asked whoever had walked up to her.

Sam turned to examine the guy in front of her. He looked to be roughly her age, dark skin and a fancy suit that he looked uncomfortable in. A nervous energy permitted off of him, Sam guessed he wasn’t used to these sorts of events and was unashamedly out of his depth.

“Nah, not particularly,” Sam offered with a shrug, “you seem like you want to be here as much as I do.”

“Ah yeah,” the guy rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly, “I’m kinda only here because my brother didn’t want to be here alone and most of our other siblings were unavailable aside from my sister and I. But now he’s off talking to a friend of his that happened to be here, and my sister’s disappeared to who knows where.”

“That’s rough buddy,” Sam offers him a sympathetic smile.

The guy snorts before asking, “did you just quote Zuko?” And Sam grins. He holds out his hand to her, “Duke Thomas.”

Sam shakes his hand, “Sam Manson. Nice to meet you, Duke.”

Duke visibly appears to relax a little and the air of nervousness around his somewhat dissipates. He shifts of his feet for a moment before deciding on something. “So,” he starts, “if you weren’t stuck here what you normally be doing with your time?”

“Probably playing Doom with my two best friends back home,” Sam doesn’t mention anything about the ghosts. She hopes Danny and Tucker are alright in their own.

“Oh cool,” Duke smiles and Sam would be lying if she said she’d never seen someone so perfectly embody literal sunshine like he did. “I usually play videos games with my siblings. Mario Kart can get super competitive though.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that, intrigued. “How competitive?”

Duke grimaces slightly but looks amused at the same time, “well, tables have been flipped and expensive things broken. And everyone lost Alfred’s cookie privileges for a week.” He ground out that last part as though it physically pained him.

“Damn. They must be some good cookies if you’re that bummed about it.”

“Your have no idea. Alfred’s cookies are the best thing in the world. Fights have broken out over them.”

“Your family sound insane,” Sam chuckles and quickly adds, “in a good way.”

Duke grins at her, “yeah they’re kinda crazy sometimes, but they’re great. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

“It must be nice, having siblings like that.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Nah,” Sam shakes her head, “only child.”

Before either of them know or Sam and Duke have been talking for nearly the entire gala. They remained glued to one another chatting even as one or both of them wanted to grab something to eat from the buffet table. Their interactions didn’t go unnoticed by Bruce and the others.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time she had such a normal and fun conversation with someone other than Danny or Tucker.

The end of the night came too soon, Sam felt. Things were winding down and people were bidding others farewell. She could see her parents speaking with Bruce Wayne, possibly thanking him for a wonderful night.

“Looks like I’ll probably be leaving soon,” Sam deflated a little.

Duke pondered something for a moment but seemed to reach a decision quickly. He pulled out his phone and offered it to Sam, “here, give me your number. We can keep talking later. If you want that is.”

And Sam couldn’t find any reason to say no, especially when Duke was smiling like that. “Sure,” he took the phone from his hand and added her number into his contacts. She pulled out her own phone and handed it to him to add his number in too.

“Well then,” Duke fighters with the end of his suit jacket.

“Sammikins!” Pamela Manson called out, “it’s time to go sweetie.”

“I’ll talk to you late?” Duke asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” Sam smiled back, “talk to you later Duke.”

[kitten4sannie]

trendsetter

reach for my goals, hit it dead center

pairing: idol ex! mingi x fem! reader

genre: an actual idol au omg, smut

summary: mingi reminds you why he was so hard to leave in the first place, well, the first few times, anyway.

w.c: 3.3k

bc i’m bigger, better

warnings: brief weed use/shotgunning (mingi’s a plug in another life btw <3), mingi’s kinda a dickhead and a master manipulator (damn double homicide), dom! mingi, subby! reader, mingi’s got a big cawk, glove ? kink? idk bro, exhibitionism, teasing, praise/degradation, pet names galore/name calling, tit play, spit, fingering, finger sucking (leads to some gagging), oral (giving), deep-throating, cum eating, grinding, kissing, size kink, breeding kink, mingi fucks reader raw on the hood of her own car hallelujahhhh

a/n: don’t blame me for this btw,, blame mingi mango and the things he’s been posting on ig 😮‍💨 this man makes me delirious istg. also i wrote this while incredibly sleep deprived just so yk !! there might be some grammar and spelling errors (as well as a general sense of lunacy ✨) regardless i hope you enjoy and please do let me know if you liked it bc feedback is like a treat for me and im a treat hungry lil goblin uwu <3

song recs: so damn into you by vlad holiday - come 2 me by johnny goth - liquid by boston manor

Mingi barely made it two steps past one of the various emergency exit doors of the booming, hectic arena, dropping his lighter on the ground when his favorite ex suddenly came waltzing back into his life again after just swiftly exiting it for the nth time.

“Where are my car keys? I know you have them,” you abruptly confronted him, snatching the lighter from the ground before he could grab it and sliding it inside your tank top, right in between your tits.

“Why would I have your car keys, sugar?” Mingi sighed exasperatedly, walking in your direction until he towered over you, gently clasping his calloused hands around your upper arms so he could rub them up and down in an effort to calm you, gently turning you around until your back pressed into the cool metal of the emergency door. “Can you use that pretty little head of yours for me, Y/N? I just performed right now. I was busy rehearsing before that. Do you really think I would take your keys from you just to keep you from leaving?”

“Yes, I do. You always do some fuck shit like this when I try to leave. Every time, Mingi.” Despite the furrow of your brow and the contempt present within your words, you couldn’t help but watch as Mingi’s thumbs began to press into the sides of your tits. When you didn’t say anything, he began to press the rest of his gloved fingers into the softness of your chest.

“Some fuck shit like this?” Mingi asked under his breath, studying your flushed face to gauge your reaction as he squeezed your tits against the palms of his rough hands, rubbing his thumbs teasingly against the thin material of your sports bra until he felt your nipples harden. “You aren’t tell me to stop, baby. Cat got your tongue?”

“I hate you…” you whispered softly, not understanding why you never had the strength to deny him, even in a public, though empty alleyway, even after you just broke up with him only a little while ago.

“You don’t seem to hate this…Your body’s responding to me…” Mingi suddenly pinched your nipples through your sports bra, chuckling at the gasp you let out. He leaned down, bringing his lips to your ear to whisper, “I bet you don’t hate how wet I’m making you right now, either. Is your cunt throbbing for me already, Y/N?”

“N-no…” You bit into your bottom lip when your ex let out a disapproving ‘uh-uh’ as you turned your head to look away from him, squeezing your thighs together, hoping your arousal wouldn’t drip past your short skirt.

With one hand still clasped around your tit to play with it, Mingi brought the other up to grasp your chin, making you face him again, so close that you were breathing in each other’s air, your parted lips almost touching. “You’ll let me check to see if you’re lying, won’t you, sugar? Can I see how many fingers I can fit inside your tight little cunt?”

You hated how much your body and soul still burned for your lecherous ex, hated how desperate you suddenly were for him to have his way with you, but what you hated most of all was the way you whimpered out, “Please, Minnie.”

Mingi groaned softly at the use of his pet name, feeling most of his blood began to head below the belt, letting go of your chin, the both of you watching as his hand disappeared underneath your skirt. He instantly slipped two thick fingers inside you up to the knuckles, despite wearing a pair of thick leather gloves, the both of you moaning at the squelching sound your bare, wet cunt made. “That’s my girl. You wore this slutty little skirt and no panties just for me, didn’t you? You don’t even care about getting out of here with your keys. You just wanted me to put my hands all over you one last time, yeah?”

Just as you were about to respond, Mingi suddenly stuffed his leather-bound fingers into your mouth, making you taste your own warm wetness. “A-aaahn,” you moaned around his moving digits, feeling them slip along your hot tongue, looking up at your ex’s intensely dark gaze.

“Suck,” he simply requested, smiling fondly at the sight of your plush lips closing around his fingers, pushing them further and further back until he made you gag around them, his cock throbbing at the sight of your teary doe eyes. “Oh, baby, if you’re going to be looking at me like that and making those pretty noises, I’m gonna lose it…but, you can take it, right? My fingers in your throat?”

You whined softly, trying your best not to gag more around his moving fingers, relaxing your throat enough so that the only sound that could be heard was your moans and the abundance of saliva in your mouth.

“Good girl.” Mingi slipped his fingers out of your mouth and pressed his lips onto your cheek, whispering, “Can you take my cock down your throat next, pretty girl? I worked so hard to perform tonight, you know. Don’t you think I deserve head from my favorite ex?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself agreeing, your head still fuzzy from having his fingers inside your mouth, desperate to have something else warm and thick on your tongue, thankful for the heavy hand that began to push your head down until your bare knees were resting against the cold concrete below.

“Say ‘aaah’,” Mingi cooed darkly from above, expertly undoing his thick belt buckle and lowering his pants until his stiff, reddened cock smacked up into his abdomen. It was then that his hands were drawn to either side of your head, barely giving you enough time to open your mouth before he thrusted forward, the tip of his cock instantly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuckkkk, that’s a good slut. You don’t have to be my girlfriend to be my fuck toy, huh, baby?”

Your moans of approval were instantly muffled by the massive cock that was being stuffed inside your throat by your eager ex, as you reached up to grasp at his hips, the shiny lighter that was still sitting in between your tits starting to jostle around due to Mingi’s rough movements.

Suddenly reminded of his post-concert ritual, Mingi reached into his back pocket and placed a joint between his lips, then fished the lighter out from between your tits, but not before he squished one of them for the hell of it. He rolled the dial on the lighter a few times before a flame sparked, bringing it up and lighting the tip of his joint.

The strong aroma of Mingi’s flower reached you in an instant, having to blink your many tears away to watch him take a deep puff of it and blow it out into your face. Your lips tingling from the immense stretch, you sputtered around his pulsing cock, suddenly pulling away, letting your spit laced lips rest against his leaking tip, weakly licking at the pre-cum that spilled from it. “M-minnie…”

“Why’d you stop?” Mingi grunted, biting on the tip of the joint to keep it from falling from his lips, looking down at you with his sharp, slightly red eyes. Using his free hand to jerk himself off with his cockhead pressed to your lips and smearing his pre-cum over them just for his own enjoyment, he slowly realized what was up. “Oh, you want a hit? Aren’t you precious? Come here.”

Mingi slowly lowered himself down into a crouching position, letting go of his cock to grab your chin with his arousal coated fingers, taking in a deeper inhale, the majority of the joint turning to ash, just as he flicked it away into the gutter. He pressed his lips onto yours in an open-mouthed kiss, neither of you bothering to close your eyes as he slowly filled your lungs with smoke.

Just as you began to choke while trying to exhale all the smoke, Mingi dragged his tongue across your own and over your top set of teeth just because he felt like it, before standing back up. “I bet you’re feeling real good now, baby. That was top shelf.” He spat into the palm of his hand and lubed up his cock, before patting your cheek and sliding himself back into the hot haven that was your throat, not wasting a single second to begin pumping himself inside it again, almost like he had never stopped.

Now that both your body and brain were delightfully clouded with a heavy, lustful high, you felt like you could cum just from getting ruthlessly throat-fucked alone, your nails digging into Mingi’s bare hips, more and more tears and saliva dripping along your flushed skin the longer he abused your tiny throat with his oversized length.

“Fuck, I can’t handle it when you cry and drool like that just from sucking my cock, baby. I’m gonna fucking cum,” Mingi groaned deeply from above you, rested his forearms against the emergency door, thrusting sloppily into your mouth. He let out a few short, whiny moans once he began to shudder, plunging his throbbing cock deep inside your throat and staying still. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming. Take my load, princess, ohh my god, that’s it.”

You swallowed the warm, salty liquid as it shot down your throat, only to open your mouth and present your tongue when Mingi pulled out and began to slowly milk his cock, taking the rest of his load on your tongue, not swallowing and simply letting it drip down, a few drops spilling down your chin and getting onto your tits.

“Mm, that’s my messy girl. You’re waiting for me to feed it to you, huh?” Mingi licked at his plush lips from witnessing your obedient nod, pushing his soft cock back into his pants and waiting for you to stand up so that he could collect some of the cum that had escaped your mouth and pushed it back into your mouth. “That’s right, babygirl, clean it all up for me. Mm-hmm, just like that.”

Once you slurped the rest of his load off of his fingers, you wrapped your arms around Mingi’s neck, pressing your heated body into his. “Mingiiii, please fuck me, I can’t take it,” you begged him underneath your breath, pressing your lips onto his neck up to his tense jawline.

“Oh, yeah? You can’t live without this dick, can you?” he questioned you huskily, bringing his wrists up to his mouth one by one to pull his gloves off with his teeth, before reaching past your waist to roughly squeeze his warm hands into your ass. When you grimaced up at him, he tugged your skirt up and spread your ass open to run his fingers down your wet slit from behind, making you whimper. “Admit it, and i’ll fuck you stupid, princess.”

Swallowing down any remaining dignity you had along with the remnants of your ex’s load, you lifted one leg up to hook it around his slim waist, allowing him easier access to you wet cunt, shuddering at the sensation of him shallowly slipping his fingers into and out of you just to tease you. “I can’t live without your cock, Mingi, okay? No one fucks me like you do, so please, make me yours.”

Mingi rubbed the abundant wetness around your cunt, licking his lips hungrily, staring down at you past his dark shades. “Right here? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone sees, princess?”

“I don’t give a fuck if someone sees, just fuck me, please!”

Mingi grinned crookedly, finding deep amusement in your desperation, considering how you were acting just a little while ago. “Where’s your car, baby?”

You pointed down the dark alleyway. “It’s just around the corner over there.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, then picked you up from the ground, hooking both of your thighs around his waist and carrying you over to your car, massaging his hands into your thighs on the way. “I don’t have any condoms, you know.”

When Mingi laid you down on the hood of your car, the cool metal sending goosebumps up and down your exposed, heated skin, you shook your head and smiled softly. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I fuck you raw, and leave you stuffed full of my cum…” Still in between your legs, Mingi bent down to leave kisses, licks, and bites along your neck and collarbone, lowering his pants down just enough to free his length, his slick cock growing hard and heavy against your bare cunt. “Fuck, and when I use my fingers to shove my nut back inside your cunt after…mm, I’m honestly surprised you’re not knocked up for me already…”

“Mingi,” you whined disapprovingly, despite the fresh wave of slick coating your ex’s cock as it repeatedly rubbed back and forth along your cunt.

“What, I thought you liked being my cumslut…my little breeding bitch…my pump n’ dump princess…” Mingi recited playfully, teasing your fluttering hole with the tip of his cockhead, just about driving you to the brink of insanity withi his teasing.

“Shut up, Min, oh my god…”

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” he suggested, hovering close enough to your face for you to pull him in for a desperate kiss that consisted mainly of tongue and teeth, your mouths occasionally making contact in between tongue swipes and lip bites, the both of you panting all the while.

Growing impatient, you slipped your fingers into his choppy hair, tugging his head back until your lips parted, a few strands of saliva still connecting them. “If you don’t put your cock inside me in the next two seconds, I’m going to bite it off. You hear me, Song Mingi?”

Groaning breathily when you tugged at his hair again, Mingi let out a few soft chuckles, taking his shades off and setting them down on the corner of the hood. “Using my government name like that….I must’ve teased you too much. My poor angel, so desperate for cock. I’ll fuck you good, baby. I’ll make it up to you,” he sighed, as he wrapped his fingers around his length, guiding the tip to your entrance and sliding all the way in with ease, the both of you letting out obscene moans. Without any hesitation, Mingi began to buck his hips wildly, his metal belt banging against the hood of your car with each thrust. “Oh, fuck. You feel that? Is it good for you?”

“Yes…!” you cried out, barely about to speak, let alone function, now that your beloved ex was rearranging your guts with his colossal cock.

Huffing, Mingi threw your legs up over his shoulders and laid his body weight on you, essentially folding you in half. He ran his tongue along your jaw, before nipping at it, whispering, “God, you’re always so fucking tight, princess. Gonna milk me for all I’ve got, huh? Cuz’ you’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh, just for you, Minnie…”

“Mm-hmm, that’s why you’re still here even after you broke up with me earlier, baby…why you’re taking my cock on the hood of your car where anyone can see you…” Mingi continued, squeezing his hands into the plumpness of your thighs, getting a good grip on them, so that he could drive himself into you as hard as he possibly could, punching short, breathy moans out of you. “You sound so pretty for me, baby, and fuck, you’re so wet right now….You’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you?”

As soon as it felt like Mingi’s oversized cock had slammed directly into your cervix, you let out an abrupt yell, an overwhelming amount of pleasure suddenly shooting through your body like lightning. “Fuck…! I’m cumming, Minnie, it’s so– oh my god.” You were gonna start whimpering and crying when Mingi gently placed his warm hand over your mouth, watching him nod his head knowingly at you, his suddenly softened gaze never leaving yours.

“That’s a good girl, such a good girl for me, Y/N,” Mingi sighed against your ear, the hot, wet sounds of your bodies colliding together and the ringing inside your ears almost too loud for you to hear him properly. Feeling your wetness pour out onto his cock, Mingi let go of your mouth and cradled your face instead, pressing slow, meaningful kisses onto your lips, a few drops of sweat dripping along the shaved sections of his hair just as your trembling fingers drifted along it. “Want it inside, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you whispered against his moving lips, not even realizing when you were clutching him impossibly close to you.

“That’s my baby…” Mingi pulled all the way out, your mixed arousal forming a milky foam around the base of his cock, before he slowly pushed all the way back in, just in time for him to paint your insides white with his seemingly endless load. He hugged you close to him all the while, pressing kiss and kiss onto your lips, face, and neck, knowing that your turbulent time together was about to come to an end, and wishing he could turn the clock back to spend another second with you.

Once your highs began to fade, you cleared your throat and slowly sat up, the both of you silently fixing your disheveled clothes and hair in a poor attempt to look presentable in the case of a random passerby.

“So…since you don’t have my keys, I’m not sure how I’m gonna get out of here,” you sighed, about to push yourself off of the hood of your car when Mingi helped you off instead, annoyed that he was suddenly acting gentlemanly when he had shown you nothing of the sort beforehand.

Smiling apologetically, Mingi fished around in one of his pockets and held your keys up to you. “I took them out of your purse before the show started.” Seeing the anger blossom on your pretty, flushed face, he continued, “Listen, I just wanted you to hear me out before you left and never came back to me, baby. I love you.”

You snatched the keys out of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back to sit on the hood of your car, keeping your thighs pressed together to keep everything from leaking out of you. “You don’t get to say that after you just made me your ‘pump n’ dump princess’, you idiot.”

“But I didn’t dump you, Y/N. You’re the one who dumped me!” Mingi whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his brown eyes growing wide and puppy-like.

You couldn’t help but begin to laugh, not only at the ludicrous situation you were both in, but at the truth of his statement. Wiping a tear from your eye, you clicked your keys to unlock your car and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“No, we’re going to the store to get Plan B, dummy. I’m not about to let Mingi Jr. run around and terrorize the city,” you replied, gazing at your ex, the sight of his childlike amusement making you feel a bit soft towards him.

“I call shotgun!” Mingi called, eagerly heading to the passenger door, practically bouncing on his heels.

“There’s only two of us,” you giggled, sitting down in the car with him.

“For now.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You turned the ignition on, shaking your head, the corners of your lips hurting from how long you had been smiling. “Never say that shit again.”

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