#So is this gonna be an open mouth kiss or?...

[mattybsgroupie]

— edging chris with a vibrator

★ happy birthday to my dear @ariestrxsh! you’re a blessing in my life and i’m so grateful for your existence — this one’s for you! this blurb is a part of my milf!reader X sub!chris au ★

the vibrator buzzes loudly against his skin, but chris manages to be louder. he’s no longer hearing your voice, solely focusing on holding himself back. he asked for it — he wanted to be punished.

“m-mama!” chris moans, fighting his approaching release. “‘m gonna c-cum!” he says, begging for your permission. that’s when you lower the intensity of the toy, removing it from his swollen tip and slowly dragging it down his length. chris whines in frustration due the lack of contact, the spasms taking over his legs displaying how close he was.

you chuckle at his desperation, ruffling his hair and tucking a strand behind his ear. droplets of sweat drip from his temples, his cheeks burning red. “are you gonna admit you tried to make mama jealous on purpose?” you asked, and chris looks away. a pout forms on his lips as he denies with his head.

“then you’re not cumming” you say, turning the vibrator on. you press the highest setting, placing it directly on his tip. a loud cry escapes from the back of his throat as chris throws his head back. he tries his best to hold himself, but the pre-cum oozing from his slit shows he’s seconds away from cumming.

you pull the toy away once more, delighted with the sight of an exhausted, fucked out chris. “‘m sorry!” he whines, tears forming on the corners of his baby blue eyes. “‘m sorry mama didn’t— didn’t mean to” chris cries, tears running down his cheeks. “jus’ wan’ be your good boy mama please”

“wanna be my good boy?” you coo, wiping his dampened skin. chris nods desperately, his chest panting heavily. “yes mommy ‘m good boy” you smile at his desperation, finally bringing the toy back to his cock. his hips unwittingly buck upwards, his moans growing louder each second.

“c-can’t hold it! please!” chris says as his whimpers turn to small cries. the toy keeps buzzing against his swollen, sensitive tip as your free hand cups his balls, gently massaging them. you shower chris with praises, finally allowing him to release his so delayed orgasm.

he is a mess. his hair glues against his forehead as he drools, his mouth open in exhaustion. thick ropes of cum paint his lower tummy in white while his slit still leaks, as if he had more cum left. “my good, good boy” you smile before placing a kiss on his forehead, knowing his mama was all he needed right now.

[clownprincesshq]

PROLOGUE: THE BITE

"You've got the costume. You've got the power. You're Spider-Woman. Act like it." 🕷🕸️

Main!Mark Grayson x Spider-Woman! Reader

warnings: SMUT, violence, passing out, blood,

w/c: 8.9k

a/n: okay so i was planning to post the kryptonian fic first, but after looking over it again… yeah. it needs a little love before it’s ready. it’s super long, super heavy, and honestly gonna be a bit draining to get through right away. i do still plan to post it, i just wanna make sure i have the energy to really do it justice. so in the meantime, i’m gonna give you the mark x spiderwoman!reader fic instead :) it’s way more chill, still emotional and fun, and honestly feels like a good breather between heavier projects. the kryptonian fic is still coming just after i rest my brain a little <3 thank you for being so patient with me!!

You feel it before your eyes even open, the sweet brush of a breath at your neck, the warmth of another body drawn close against yours like he never wanted to let go, and the creak of Mark’s mattress underneath the both of you as he moves slightly. Morning light streams through the curtains in languid golden slats, cutting across the dorm room and putting everything in a calm of gentle, tranquil hue. You’re still buried in slumber, locked between a dream and the weight of a boy's arm slung around your waist.

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. The big chest against your back, the familiar warmth, the way his fingers quiver slightly as if even in repose they’re attempting to cling onto something precious, him. Mark Grayson.

You let your eyes flicker open and then quickly squint at the ceiling. Your throat’s dry, your hair's certainly a mess, and you’re still wearing his shirt, oversized and soft, smelling faintly like his detergent plus something else that you’re too weary to define but know is just him.

You stayed over. You really stayed over. You hadn’t intended to, precisely. But one thing turned into another, cheesy sci-fi marathons, sarcastic commentary, a slow drift into each other’s arms, and suddenly you were dozing off against his shoulder while William grabbed a hoodie and vanished off to Rick’s dorm for the night with an exaggerated wink and an even worse “you kids behave.”

You'd rolled your eyes. Mark had just blushed.

Now his arm’s still over you like he never quite received the memo that the movie finished and morning came.

He breathes in deep, leisurely, and you feel his chest rise behind you.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice low and tired.

You can’t help it, you smile. “You always open with poetry?”

“Only for special occasions,” he says into your hair. He shifts a bit closer. “Like waking up next to you.”

You slide onto your back, turning to face him, propped up on your elbow. His eyes are still half-lidded, but they’re already fixed on you, azure and velvety and full of something that makes your breath catch in your throat. He looks like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Like you’re it.

Your voice comes out softer than you meant. “Thought you had class this morning?”

He moans, full-bodied and theatrical, and collapses backward like a man shot. “Ughhh. Don’t remind me.”

“Responsibility calls, Grayson.”

“So does your mouth,” he mumbles under his breath, smirking.

You freeze.

Then snort, because what the hell. “Excuse me?!”

“I meant-!” He’s laughing now, genuine and brilliant, and it’s so disarming that your heart flutters with it. “I meant I wanted to kiss you again and now I’ve ruined it forever.”

You press his shoulder, but your palm lingers. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for flirting before caffeine.”

He observes you for a second. That languid smile turns into something else, quieter, more earnest.

Then, without a word, he leans forward and kisses you.

No jokes, no buildup this time, just lips on lips, unhurried and sure, his fingertips stroking your jaw. You kiss him back, smooth and steady, like there’s no urgency. Like this morning might stretch out forever if you let it.

But then his hand moves, down your side, landing at your waist, and something changes in the way he kisses you. His mouth widens gently, deepening it, and your breath catches. His other hand tangles in your hair, not tugging, but there, holding you to him like he’s worried you’ll drift off again.

Your body responds before your intellect does. You press closer, one leg slipping over his, fingers digging into his shirt like you need anything to grasp onto. His grasp on your waist tightens just little in reaction.

He kisses you like he’s wanted to all night. Maybe longer.

You break the kiss to breathe, forehead crushed to his, and try to make a joke, but all that comes out is, “God.”

Mark smiles, eyes flitting across your face. “Yeah. That’s about where I’m at too.”

You chuckle, breathless and trembling, and kiss him again.

And again.

And again, until you’re half on top of him and the sheets are a jumble and none of you remember what time it is or where you’re meant to be.

His fingers glide under the hem of the shirt you stole, brushing bare skin. Your breath catches, part nervousness, half something else you don’t have the words for yet. Your heart is hammering in your chest, loud and dramatic THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Mark pauses. Looks at you.

You nod, just once.

And he kisses you like he’s been holding back.

He draws you in with both hands, lips ravenous now, his tongue stroking yours, and it’s messier, hotter, his body pushed tight to yours. You feel the weight of him between your legs, the hardness he’s not bothering to disguise anymore. Your body responds instinctively, hips pressing against him, lips opening wider, hands going beneath his shirt now, across his back, his sides.

You don’t know what you’re doing. Not really. But you know you want this. Want him. Every inch of him, every gasp and tremble, every secret thought behind those watchful brown eyes.

You don’t know that he’s a superhero. That he’s lifted buildings, fought monsters, saved lives while keeping all of this secret from you. You just know that he’s Mark, and right now, he’s kissing you like the world outside the dorm doesn’t exist.

And you’re kissing him back like you’ve never believed in anything more.

You melt under him, unable to resist that low groan he lets out when your tongue meets his. It’s a soft morning kiss, warm and thick with the drowsy heat of sleep, but there’s something more under it. A current humming beneath his skin.

“God, you’re cute when you wake up,” he whispers, voice rough like gravel, and you roll your eyes but you blush. Of course you do. You always do.

“I look like Seance Dog after that dumpster fight,” you mumble, pulling the sheet up to your nose. But his hand’s already slipping lower, fingers gliding over your stomach, your pajama pants thin and already doing nothing to hide how warm you are underneath.

His thumb strokes your skin just under the waistband. Testing. Teasing. You twitch, not out of resistance, but anticipation.

“Shut up,” he grins. “You look like you. That’s the best part.”

And then his hand moves lower.

You gasp, breath hitching as his fingers slip past the fabric, finding heat, slickness, the subtle throb of your body waking up faster than your mind can process. He watches your face as he touches you, eyes narrowing just slightly, lips parted. He’s focused. Not cocky. Not groping or rushing. No, Mark is intent. Studying you like he’s discovering a part of you for the first time. Like each inch of you is a secret he wants to learn by touch.

“You’re already this wet?” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, more wonder than tease. “Fuck.”

Your cheeks burn. Your thighs press tighter around his hand but you don’t stop him. You couldn’t if you tried. He slides two fingers along your folds, slow and deliberate, making you bite your lip to stop from moaning out loud.

“Mark…” you whisper. Not a protest. Not a plea. Just his name, breathy and unsure, because it’s all new. This is new. Not the kissing. Not the cuddling. Not the way he looks at you like you’re made of starlight and lightning. But this, his fingers in your pants, his mouth against your cheek as he murmurs, “It’s okay. I got you.”

Your hips twitch, grinding down just slightly against his hand without thinking. He catches that. Smiles. And moves his fingers lower, circling your clit with the softest, slowest motion that makes your toes curl under the sheets.

He leans closer. You can feel the heat of his breath against your ear. “Can I make you feel good?” he asks it like a promise, not a question. “Can I keep going?”

Your breath is shaky, heart slamming against your ribs, and your body answers before your brain can. Your hips roll forward, pressing harder into his hand, chasing that friction, that pleasure just out of reach.

He kisses your neck, and then he moves again, fingers slick with you now, pushing inside, slow, gentle, coaxing your body open as he watches your expression shift. Surprise, heat, need. Your hand flies to his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle as his thumb brushes your clit again and again with each thrust of his fingers.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers, low and rough and raw.

You moan. This time you can’t help it.

And still, you don’t know.

You don’t know that Mark Grayson isn’t just the too-cute, weirdly poetic guy who treats you like you matter in ways no one ever has. You don’t know he’s stronger than steel, faster than light. That the fingers inside you have punched holes through spaceships.

All you know is this, his mouth, his breath, his touch, and the sound of your own voice breaking around his name as his fingers fuck you deeper, curling just right, finding that spot that makes you tremble all the way down to your toes.

You’re trying to be cool about it. You really are.

But your head’s thrown back against the pillow, your eyes fluttering half-shut, and your whole body’s betraying you, hips twitching, stomach flexing, legs trembling under the slow, obscene rhythm of Mark’s fingers still buried inside you. Every time he curls them just right, that electric jolt lights up your spine and short-circuits every dumb, stammering comeback you were trying to form. You're stifling moans with your knuckles, eyes wide, staring up at the ceiling like it might explain what the hell is happening to your life.

Because holy shit. This is happening.

Mark Grayson, dorky, sweet, absurdly hot Mark who somehow fell into your orbit and never left, he’s got his fingers inside you and he’s not acting like it’s a game. He’s looking at you like it matters. Like he’s memorizing every twitch, every breath, every broken sound that slips from your lips. His brow furrows when you gasp, and he shifts his hand just slightly, hunting for that same reaction again. He finds it.

“Yeah,” he whispers, half-smiling. “Right there. That’s it.”

You nod furiously, too breathless to form actual words, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other gripping his bicep like it’s the only thing tethering you to Earth. He’s strong, stronger than he should be. His muscles don’t bulge obnoxiously, but you can feel the power under your palm, the way his arm doesn’t give an inch even when you clutch at him in desperation.

“God, Mark-” you choke out, biting your lip hard as he thrusts his fingers deeper again. “I-shit…I haven’t-”

He pauses, lips brushing your temple, voice a low, reverent hush. “Hey. You okay?”

Your laugh breaks halfway into a moan, shaky and high-pitched. “Yeah. Just. You’re really good at this, and I’ve… not exactly had a lot of practice. You know. In real life. Not with anybody but you.”

Mark’s eyebrows lift. His fingers don’t stop moving, but he slows them, lets you breathe a second. “You mean like, what, just crushes? Or…”

You snort. “I mean I’ve kissed my own hand more times than actual people. And one of those kisses ended with braces involved and both of us bleeding.”

That makes him grin. Like, wide. Like you just told him the greatest thing he’s ever heard. “Jesus. You’re adorable.”

“I’m mortified.”

“You’re hot as hell.” His voice dips again, right against your neck. “And you’re clenching around my fingers, so either you’re secretly a world-class actor or you’re really into this.”

“I’m trying to play it cool,” you whisper, which would be a lot more convincing if your thighs weren’t shaking.

He chuckles softly, kissing your neck. “You’re doing so bad at that.”

You squirm, trying to glare at him, but he hooks his fingers just so and your head jerks back with a whimper you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. He moans into your skin, the sound of him loving every reaction you give him, it’s shameless, filthy, real.

“Mark,” you breathe, voice catching. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…I’m gonna-”

“I want you to,” he whispers, his fingers moving faster now, rhythm steady, confident. “You should see how good you look right now. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

Your whole body coils tight, tension winding through your core, and suddenly you’re right there, teetering, begging for that final push. You grip his arm like a lifeline, gasping out ragged little half-sobs as he brings you closer.

Your orgasm hits like a jolt, like falling out of your body. Your back arches, thighs squeezing his hand, breath punched from your lungs as you cry out, no filter, no shame, no idea what sound just ripped out of you because everything else has gone static-white and trembling and so goddamn wet. You ride it out on instinct, hips jerking, eyes squeezed shut, Mark holding you through it, murmuring your name, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your cheek, your temple.

When you finally collapse back to the bed, your whole body boneless and blinking through the afterglow, he slowly eases his hand out of your pants, fingers slick and glistening. He stares at them a second, then looks at you.

“Can I be honest?” he says, licking his bottom lip.

You nod, still dazed. “Please don’t say something dumb. I’m too weak to handle it.”

“I’ve imagined that a lot,” he says, voice low and warm and serious. “But I never imagined it would feel this good to actually touch you again like this. Like... fuck. That was incredible.”

You want to say something witty. You want to make a joke, be cool, shrug it off like you’re not melting into his sheets. But all you manage is a breathy, “Y-you too,” and a dumb, blissed-out smile that makes him lean down and kiss it off your lips.

What you don’t know, what still hasn’t hit you, is how much he’s holding back. How careful he’s being. How strong he actually is. You don’t know that the same hands that just made you cum so hard you forgot your own name are the same hands of Invincible.

And he won’t tell you. Not yet.

Not while you’re still glowing in the aftermath, tangled in his arms, whispering against his jawline that he’s not allowed to disappear in the morning.

You're lying there with your cheek pressed against Mark's chest, still trying to come back down to Earth, and not metaphorically. Your heart’s drumming like you sprinted up ten flights of stairs, your legs feel like spaghetti, and your thighs still twitch every now and then with aftershocks. You’ve never felt that before, not from another person. Not even close.

And now?

Now there’s a low, needy tension humming in the air. But this time, it’s him.

You feel it under your fingertips, the way Mark’s chest rises just a little too fast, the tight coil in his abs, the slight tremor in the hand resting near your waist. You glance up at him, your breath still catching in your throat a little, and his eyes are already on you. Big, blue, vulnerable. His lashes are unfairly long for someone so stupidly good-looking. He blinks once, then offers you a crooked smile that’s trying way too hard to be casual.

“You okay?” you whisper, letting your hand drift across his chest, drawing nonsense lines with your fingers.

He swallows. Hard.

“I’m great,” he says, and he is, technically, but his voice is rough and low and not nearly as confident as it usually is. He’s squirming just the tiniest bit under your touch, his cock pressing up through the thin fabric of his boxers, already hard and straining.

It’s your turn to smirk.

“Yeah?” you ask, your hand sliding lower, fingertips teasing the waistband of his boxers now. “You look kinda like you’re suffering.”

That makes him exhale through his nose, almost a laugh. Almost. But he bites his lip and nods, his voice dipping into something softer, more needy.

“I mean… yeah,” he admits. “A little. But like… the good kind of suffering?”

You raise a brow. “So if I just… did nothing right now…”

He groans, half a whimper, half a plea. “That would be evil.”

You laugh quietly. Your hand dips beneath the waistband.

His breath catches instantly. You feel it, heat, stiffness, that pulse of tension that tells you just how badly he’s been holding back. You take your time, drawing his cock out slowly, letting your fingers curl around the thick, velvety length. He’s hot to the touch. Hard, but twitching, his hips subtly shifting up toward your hand without him even realizing he’s doing it.

You glance up at him again and his head’s tipped back against the pillow, his lips parted, eyes fluttering. He looks wrecked already and you’ve barely touched him.

“Jesus, Mark,” you whisper, marveling at how sensitive he is. “You’re, uh… really worked up, huh?”

He lets out a breathless laugh that breaks halfway into a moan when you stroke him once, slow and steady.

“You just made me watch you lose your mind from my fingers,” he groans. “Of course I’m worked up. You were…” He grits his teeth, his voice trailing into a hiss as you squeeze around the base and drag your hand up again. “You were fucking perfect.”

You bite your lip. That rush of heat shoots right back through you but this time, it’s paired with this weird little swell of power in your chest. He’s always been the calm one. The capable one. The guy who looks like he was born with good lighting. And now?

Now he’s melting under your touch. Whining quietly as you stroke him again, a little faster now, thumb teasing along the sensitive tip just to watch him flinch and gasp.

“F-fuck,” he pants, one hand grabbing the sheets like he’s trying not to fall apart. “You’re… really good at this.”

You snort. “I watched a lot of porn and imagined doing this never in real life. So, thanks for that.”

He laughs, even as his breath hitches again, hips twitching into your hand. “Well, your imagination deserves an award.”

You keep stroking him, slow at first, building rhythm, curling your fingers just enough at the top to make his thighs flex. His cock pulses in your grip, pre-cum slicking the head as you twist your wrist on the upstroke, and he moans loud. He doesn’t even try to muffle it.

His other hand slips up, gently curling around your wrist, not to stop you, but just to feel you. To anchor himself. His fingers tremble.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmurs, eyes opening to look at you. “And your hand fuck, it feels too good. I’m not gonna last.”

That makes your stomach do a somersault.

“Oh? Gonna come for me already?”

He bites his lip hard. Nods. His voice is practically a whimper now. “Please.”

The way he says it, please, makes your legs clamp together instinctively. You pump him harder, faster now, hand slick and confident and soaked in the kind of desperation he’s wearing all over his face. His abs tighten. His moans are ragged, drawn out, high in his throat like he’s trying not to cry out your name.

You lean in, whispering hot against his ear, “Come for me, Mark.”

And he does.

His whole body locks up under you, shoulders flexing, thighs trembling, cock jerking in your fist as he spills over your fingers with a strangled, guttural fuck that makes you ache. Hot ropes of cum splatter across his abs, thick and sticky, as he pants through the aftershocks, clinging to you like he’s unraveling.

You don’t stop stroking until he whines, an actual whine, and grabs your wrist gently to stop you, his body twitching from overstimulation.

His hair’s a mess. His cheeks are flushed. His lips are red and bitten and absolutely begging to be kissed.

So you do.

And he kisses you back like you’re the last thing holding him together.

You barely pull your hand back before Mark’s grabbing at you again, shaky fingers on your waist, his breath still uneven, his chest still rising and falling like he’s just run a mile. You expect him to flop back, wrecked and dazed and maybe ready to nap like a normal person, but instead, he’s crawling on top of you like a man possessed. Eyes glassy. Lips parted. Cock still hard and twitching between you like it didn’t just unload itself across his abs.

“Wait, seriously?” you breathe, not quite laughing, but stunned, looking down where his cock presses hot and slick against your lower stomach. “Mark, I just jerked you off, aren’t you supposed to be done for the day?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you, slow, desperate, heat pulsing through every inch of him. “I should be. I’m trying to be.”

You blink. “Trying?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He nuzzles into your neck, lips brushing your pulse point, voice breaking into something raw. “The sounds you made. The way you looked when you came. The way you touched me. I’m still hard. I can’t stop.”

Your mouth goes dry.

And then he grinds down.

It’s clumsy at first, he’s just pressing against you, bare skin to skin, your pajama pants still clinging to your hips. But the slide of his cock along your pelvis, still slick from your hand, still pulsing with leftover heat, is enough to make you gasp. Your thighs twitch, your fingers dig into his back, and he groans right into your collarbone.

“Mark-” you whisper, not because you want him to stop, but because you don’t know what to do with all of this. No one’s ever wanted you like this. Not with that kind of hunger. Not with need written all over their face.

He doesn’t answer at first. He just keeps moving, hips rolling, cock grinding against the seam of your pants, his whole body shivering like the friction alone is dragging him closer to the edge again. His head dips low, lips pressing wetly to your throat, your jaw, your cheek.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“You just came,” you whisper, half in awe. “You came, and you’re already-”

“Look at me,” he grits out, and you do.

His eyes are wild. Not unhinged, just lit with something sharp and aching and deep. His cock is trapped between your bodies, sliding along the damp, clinging fabric of your pants, every motion dragging the head right against your clit. You suck in a breath. It’s not even inside, and it feels too good.

“I’ve never wanted someone like this,” he breathes, hips jerking harder now. “You don’t know what you do to me. You act like everything’s normal, like you don’t see it, but you’re, fuck, you’re killing me.”

Your hips buck without thinking, grinding back up against him, and he moans, loud, open, filthy. He thrusts again, and again, pace stuttering, desperate. You feel how hard he is. How hot he is. Your body starts pulsing all over again, heat building low and slow in your stomach, every friction drag of his cock against your clothed cunt sending sparks through your spine.

Your fingers slide up into his hair, dragging through sweat-damp hair, pulling him down for another kiss that’s all teeth and breath and messy tongue. His body presses you into the mattress, thighs braced around yours, grinding harder now, faster, using your soft body to relieve the ache in him.

You whimper into his mouth. “Mark, fuck, if you keep doing that-”

“I want you to feel it,” he growls against your lips. “I wanna make you come again like this, just like this. Let me.”

You nod. Your hips move with his now, both of you locked into it, your hands on his back, pulling him into you, guiding him, feeling every twitch and throb of him through the soaked fabric between you. The way he moans, ragged and helpless, when your thigh clamps between his legs?

It sounds like he’s breaking.

He buries his face in your neck, breath catching, voice muffled but full of that same pleading edge. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good, don’t stop, don’t stop-”

Neither of you do.

He should go.

You both know it. The sunlight’s too sharp now, cutting in from the window across his back. His phone buzzed once, twice, maybe more. Somewhere in the pile of clothes on the floor, there’s a vibrating little rectangle full of frantic reminders and missed alarms. First period, second period, probably a text from Amber asking if he got the notes from Stats.

And you?

You’re still under him. Warm. Soft. Wide-eyed and flushed, hair mussed against his pillow, lips swollen from too many kisses, your pajama pants shoved halfway down your thighs like you got caught mid-strip and never finished. You’re biting your lip in that way that makes it look like you’re trying to pretend you’re not turned on out of your mind.

Mark grinds down again, slow, deliberate. His cock slides through the wet heat pressed between your thighs, and your hips jerk, a gasp bursting from your mouth like you weren’t ready for it even now. “Mark-” your voice catches, breathy and nervous and wrecked. “You’re gonna be late.”

His mouth curls against your neck. “I am late.”

He doesn’t stop moving. He can’t. The tension in his muscles is unbearable now, coiled up with that same aching energy from earlier, only worse. Raw. Insistent. He needs more. Needs you.

“You gonna stop me?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Your fingers flex against his back. You should. You should. That would be the reasonable thing to do. Let him go. Keep pretending this is something you can laugh off, something casual, like he didn’t just look at you like you hung the fucking moon.

But you’re not reasonable.

And your body’s already answering for you, hips bucking up again, thighs spreading wider, that greedy little pulse between your legs begging for more. For him.

Mark pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your jaw. His eyes search your face. His voice goes quiet, trembling at the edges. “I wanna be inside you.”

He says it like a confession. Like it matters.

“Yeah?” you whisper, heartbeat ricocheting through your ribs.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I don’t wanna stop. Not now. I wanna feel all of you.”

You swallow, hard. “You know I-…”

“I know.” He kisses you, slow and aching. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you. We don’t have to rush.”

You blink up at him. “You’re literally skipping class for this.”

He laughs softly, cock twitching against you, still grinding slow and messy between your folds. “I already missed class. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Your stomach flips. Your nerves tense. But you nod.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”

Mark kisses you again, deeper this time. His hand slips down, tugging at your waistband until you lift your hips and let him peel your pajama pants off completely. You shiver when the cool air hits you, but he’s already there, sliding between your thighs, spreading you open with reverent, trembling fingers.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, voice ragged.

Then he wraps his hand around his cock, lines himself up, and pauses, his eyes locked on yours.

“You good?” he asks. “You sure?”

You nod. “I want this. I want you.”

He pushes in slow.

Your breath hitches, sharp and high, as you stretch around him, inch by inch. It’s always more than you expect, thicker, deeper, intimate in a way that makes your whole body tense up with anticipation. But he moves gently, carefully, kissing your cheek, your jaw, whispering your name like a prayer with every inch he sinks into you.

“Shit,” he groans. “You feel so good. So fucking tight.”

Your nails dig into his back. You can barely speak. He bottoms out with a slow, careful thrust, hips pressing against yours, and the fullness makes your head spin.

You’ve never felt anything like it.

He holds still, letting you adjust, just breathing with you, forehead resting against yours. “Tell me when,” he murmurs.

You swallow, tremble, then whisper, “Now.”

He starts to move.

Each stroke is slow at first, rhythmic, measured, his hips rocking into you with that perfect drag that makes you gasp and writhe beneath him. The sensation is overwhelming. Pleasure rolls through you in waves, and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole world, is almost too much to take.

Your legs wrap around his waist. He groans into your neck, fucking you deeper now, his pace picking up as your body adjusts, as your moans shift from startled to needy.

“God, you’re so warm,” he pants. “So wet, fuck gripping me so tight-”

You’re clinging to him now, your fingers locked behind his neck, pulling him closer with every thrust. You can feel him everywhere. The wet slap of skin, the creak of the mattress, the heat building low and fast in your core.

He thrusts harder, kissing you between moans, tongue sliding against yours. “You’re doing so good. Taking me so good. I’m not gonna last, I’m not gonna fucking last-”

You cry out when he hits just the right spot, your body arching into him, legs shaking.

“Mark! Mark, I’m gonna-!”

He grabs your thigh, thrusting harder now, desperate, hips snapping into you, chasing that last edge as you clamp down around him and come apart underneath him. Your orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, your body locking up, mouth open in a silent scream.

Mark follows you seconds later, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills himself with a broken, desperate moan. His whole body shudders on top of you, and for a second, neither of you can breathe.

Silence.

Then his forehead falls to your shoulder. You both laugh, breathless and wrecked.

“Class is so fucking overrated,” he mutters.

You don’t disagree.

You’re both a mess.

And not the sexy, movie-mess where your hair falls in soft waves and the sheets magically cover just enough skin to be tasteful. No, your legs are twitching, your inner thighs are slick, your hair’s plastered to your forehead, and you’re pretty sure one of the pillows exploded somewhere behind you. Your body’s buzzing, your brain’s static, and lying on top of you is Mark Grayson, shirtless, flushed, completely out of breath and looking like he just survived a natural disaster.

“Okay,” he pants, voice muffled against your collarbone, “so that might’ve been… a little excessive.”

You laugh, weak and stunned. “A little?”

He lifts his head and gives you this look, half proud, half guilty, his cheeks still bright red. “You’re not mad at me, though, right?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” you say.

“Okay, but like… in a good way?”

You don’t answer. You just grab his face and kiss him.

Because yeah, it was a lot. He didn’t just fuck you once and call it a day. He went down on you until you came so hard you forgot your name, then got on top of you like he was starving, thrust into you until you were clinging to him, came inside you, then stayed hard and kept going. And again. And again. Every time you whispered, “Okay, I’m done,” he kissed your neck and begged, “Just once more. I swear. Then I’ll stop.”

He never stopped.

“You’re a menace,” you murmur against his lips. “You don’t need to prove anything, you know. I already like you.”

Mark snorts and drops his forehead to your shoulder. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I just, every time I touch you, I want more. I think I’m weird. This feels illegal.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling like an idiot. Your body aches, sore and deliciously used, your thighs still sticky with him. “You’re not broken. You’re just obsessed.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, lifting his head again and motioning vaguely to your naked body. “Have you seen you?”

You go to swat him, but he grabs your wrist, kisses your palm, and says, a little more serious, “It’s not just that. I’m not, God, I’m not good at this stuff. I mess up. I get in my head. But with you…”

His voice dips.

“Every time we do this, it feels real. Not just like sex. Like I’m with the person I’m supposed to be with.”

Your chest tightens. That little insecure voice in the back of your head tries to mutter something about how you’ve never done any of this before him. How he’s dated, had sex, lived, and you’re still playing catch-up. But he never makes you feel behind. He looks at you like you’re the most natural thing in the world. Like all his experience means nothing compared to this.

“You’re not what I expected,” you whisper.

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Uh… good unexpected or wow, she’s lowering her standards unexpected?”

You smack his shoulder. He grins. “I just mean,” you say, softer now, “I didn’t think anyone could make me feel like this. Like my body’s not weird. Like I’m… wanted.”

“Hey,” he says, more serious now. “Wanted is an understatement. I’m obsessed. I think about you when driving. Do you know how hard it is to stay on the roadwhen you’re picturing someone naked?”

You laugh. He kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then lower. Lower still.

“Mark-”

“I know, I know. But I swear,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’m not trying to wear you out.”

“You already did.”

“Cool. Then I’m just doing a victory lap.”

You groan, but when he nudges your legs apart again, fingers brushing over your overstimulated heat, you shiver. Because yeah, you’re sore. You’re exhausted. But with Mark, even after everything… you still want more.

And the look in his eyes?

He’s right there with you.

You’re still entwined in Mark’s arms when your phone begins vibrating on the nightstand.

At first, you don’t move. You’re curled into him, his chest warm against your face, his heartbeat steady and anchoring. His fingers are still sketching languid, absentminded shapes into the curve of your spine, and the weight of his arm over your back feels too lovely to give up just yet. The morning light slips through the slats in delicate stripes over his skin, and you think, maybe, if you stay motionless long enough, time will forgive you for skipping out on your obligations.

But the buzzing doesn’t stop.

Mark grumbles something incoherent, his grasp tightening like he’s already expecting you sliding away. You sigh, planting a short kiss to his jaw before stretching, awkwardly, to retrieve your phone. You anticipate it to be a text. Maybe a reminder from the University or a spam notice seeking to sell you anti-virus software.

It’s not.

It’s Uncle Ben.

Shit.

You swipe to answer and roll slightly to the side, cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder as Mark nuzzles into the crook of your neck like a drowsy cat that refuses to be leave from his favorite area.

“Hey,” you say, voice hoarse with sleep. “Sorry, I meant to call you last night. I… uh… slept at a friend’s place.”

Mark snorts at that, cocky as hell, and you instantly stab your elbow into his side. He yelps, gently, still smiling. Jerk.

“Mm-hmm.” Ben’s voice is suspicious, but he doesn’t press. “You said you’d be back by dinner, kid. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, bowing your head to hide Mark’s grin. “Everything’s fine. I just lost track of time. We were… studying.”

Ben doesn’t answer straight away. You envision the grimace he’s wearing, a mixture of frustration and that soft disappointment that usually makes your stomach twist a bit. “Well,” he replies finally, “if you’re gonna be out all night, the least you could do is shoot me a text so I don’t think you’ve been kidnapped.”

Guilt seeps in. You get up carefully, untangling yourself from Mark, who gives out a grunt of complaint, sinking back dramatically into the mattress. “Sorry,” you mumble, pulling a hand through your hair. “That’s on me. Won’t happen again.”

“You’re lucky I like your voice too much to be upset at you,” Ben says, softer now. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in, and remind you, you’ve got that internship thing today. At the lab?”

You blink. Hard.

And suddenly your heart drops into your gut.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, struggling upright. “That���s today?!”

Mark sits up, startled. “What’s wrong?”

You clap a palm to your forehead, terror surging up. “I’m late. I’m so late. We took an trip to the Midtown campus spider genetics lab this morning. I was scheduled to see my professor half an hour ago!”

Ben chuckles, though it’s tinged with pity. “Thought you might’ve forgotten. It’s okay. Just get dressed and book it. I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, already moving around the room attempting to find your jeans. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Looking forward to it.”

You hang up and virtually toss your phone into your backpack. Mark is eyeing you, one brow arched and the blanket pooled low around his waist, naked chest on full view. He seems like he’s ready to taunt you, something sarcastic, probably, but your terrified flailing gives him pause.

“Spider lab?” he says, amused.

You shoot him a glance while tugging your shirt over your head. “Yes, spider lab. I’m a biochem major, remember? We’re investigating gene splicing in arachnids this month. It’s a major thing. There are really people that got waitlisted for this opportunity.”

Mark lifts his legs off the bed, stretching. “Wait. So you’re telling me you’re gonna be in a room full of spiders?”

“Yes,” you deadpan, shoving your feet into your shoes. “Real spiders. Radioactive spiders. Possibly genetically engineered nightmare fuel.”

“…Cool.”

You roll your eyes. “I swear to god, Mark, if I end up with extra limbs-”

“You’ll still be the hottest eight-legged nerd I’ve ever met.”

You sigh, grabbing your luggage and hitting his arm on your way out the door. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. You do.

You halt at the door, heart still beating but for a different cause now. He’s standing there, all sleepy-eyed and naked, a gentle grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Text me when you get there,” he adds, coming closer. His voice is lower now, the amusement dissolving into something more honest. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

You nod, eyes softening. “I will.”

He leans in to kiss you, quick and warm, the type that stays just a little too long for someone who’s apparently in a rush.

You depart with your heart racing and your hair still unkempt from bed. And as you hurry down the hall with your lanyard bouncing and your lab coat packed into your bag, you can’t help thinking…

If something does happen with those spiders today, at least you’ve already acquired a superhero-sized infatuation to match.

You're halfway down the street before you realize you’re wearing one of Mark’s shirts.

It’s not subtle, either. It’s the worn burgundy shirt with the little rip under the neck and a mysterious spot on the sleeve that he maintains “adds character.” It’s entirely too huge on you, submerging your frame, sleeves bunched around your elbows like they’re trying to eat your hands. It smells like his detergent. Like him. And honestly, if you weren’t already late for a very science-y, very formal lab trip, you might've turned back just to kiss him again.

But you don’t have time to be nostalgic.

You're power-walking to the train station like your future depended on it because, really, it sort of does, and mumbling under your breath the entire way. You're going over your professor’s talking points in your brain, trying to remember if you were meant to bring safety goggles (you were), and hoping to any benevolent deity out there that you don’t turn there with morning-after hair and a hickey on your neck. You should’ve looked in a mirror. You knew Mark was going be handsy last night. You knew better. And yet.

Typical.

You’re panting by the time you make it to the lab building, exactly thirty-six minutes late. You sneak in through the back entrance, squeezing behind a janitor cart and nearly tripping over your own shoelaces in the process. You can hear the group discussing already. A cacophony of overlapping voices, the occasional “Whoa!” and “Cool!” and one very distinct cry that sounds like it came from Gwen, the girl who thinks all bugs should be nuked from orbit.

You glide through the doors of the viewing room as discreetly as possible.

And quickly regret not combing your hair.

Dr. Octavious doesn’t halt his lecture when he spots you, thank god, but he does raise an eyebrow when you sneak into place at the back of the group. He’s standing in front of a giant containment glass, gesturing toward a line of tanks filled with… yes. Spiders. Big ones. Some of them blazing. A handful of them twitching abnormally, like their actions are half a second ahead of their own thinking.

“Glad you could join us,” he adds without looking, jotting something on a clipboard. “I trust your morning was… educational.”

You blink. Your face warms up. Does he know?

"Uh, yeah,” you respond hurriedly, voice quivering midway through the word. “Definitely. Learned a lot. Big supporter of education. Love it.”

A few kids peek your way. One of them, Flash, the irritating sophomore who usually asks too many questions, leans over and snickers, “You smell like boy.”

You elbow him. Hard.

Still, as the presentation proceeds and Dr. Octavious goes off about CRISPR gene-editing and venom adaptability, you feel your pulse finally starting to relax. You’re in your element again. Scientific jargon dance comfortably in your brain, and you’re genuinely understanding it, retaining stuff. Which is sort of astounding considering how severely Mark messed with your head last night.

The tour passes through a set of reinforced passageways equipped with climate-controlled viewing tanks. Spiders. Everywhere. Massive ones, little ones, neon-striped ones. Some twitch. Others sit terrifyingly motionless. Each tank has a computerized interface with data items running across the screen, things like venom production, regeneration rates, genetic recombination markers.

Your nerd brain is trying to take it all in, but your emotional brain is still fixated on the fact that you woke up with Mark’s arm slung around your waist and his voice mumbling something sweet and drowsy into your hair.

Focus.

You scoot closer to the rear of the gathering as Dr. Octavious motions to a glass tank with a big, long-legged animal poised on a lattice of synthetic webbing.

“This specimen,” he explains, “has undergone four successful protein modifications in the past six months. What you observe in the shimmer of its exoskeleton is a composite reflective compound produced from octopus chromatophores. The objective is adaptive camouflage.”

The spider moves. Just barely.

You feel your throat constrict.

It’s not that you’re terrified of spiders. You’ve dissected them, analyzed their muscular tissue under microscopes. You’re a biochem major. You live for these things. But something about this one unsettles you.

You gaze sideways at the security panel on the wall. Nothing out of the usual. Still, you can’t ignore the sense that it’s watching you.

You adjust your weight and take a step back, banging against a cabinet.

“Relax,” Gwen says behind you. “It’s not gonna leap out and snatch you. Probably.”

You give her a bland expression and say, “Thanks, really comforting.”

As the group continues on, Dr. Octavious taps his pen against a clipboard. “Keep up. We’ll be headed to the live demonstration lab next. And no one touches anything. I don’t care if you think you’re the next Marie Curie.”

You follow after the others, attempting to absorb the information, nod at the correct times, and take mental notes you’ll type down later when your hands stop trembling.

You’re thankful the tour is fairly quiet, just the gentle shuffle of lab coats, the low hum of ventilation systems, and the odd scribbling of a pen on paper.

And below it all, you still feel the ghost of Mark’s kisses at the back of your neck from this morning.

Your cheeks flush. You focus harder on the notes. You convince yourself this is OK. You’re focused. You’re a serious student.

…Even if you did stroll into a world-class spider genetics center wearing your boyfriend’s shirt, thirty minutes late, with his aroma still clinging to your skin.

Totally fine. Normal. You’ve got this. Probably.

“This is one of our more recently altered specimens,” he says, gesturing toward the main tank in the center of the room. “We’re observing the behavior of arachnids after selective protein editing. What you’re looking at here is a hybrid strain, manipulated for visual camouflage, venom production, and web complexity.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, notepad tucked under your arm. The spider within the tank is enormous. Not horror-movie large, but near enough to make your skin crawl. It’s practically black, but when the light strikes it, there’s this flicker of deep red beneath its surface, like something molten, fighting to come out.

You push yourself to seem interested. You are interested, you swear, you didn’t spend your whole childhood buried in scientific textbooks only to zone out on your first actual tour but your body is exhausted, your brain is still playing catch-up, and your fingers keep brushing against the hem of Mark’s shirt under your coat like a nervous tic.

You slide a bit to the side as Dr. Octavious urges everyone to divide into pairs for the log review section. Most of the students spring into formation like they’ve been rehearsing since preschool. You hover awkwardly until Gwen offers you a courteous nod and tilts her iPad toward you. You smile, grateful, awkward, and walk up next her.

“We’re supposed to compare mutation cycles and gene log timestamps,” she continues, immediately loading up the file index. “Want to take the second sample?”

You nod. “Sure. Sounds… fun.”

She’s not really listening.

While she swipes through the logs, you inch a bit closer to the enclosure, drawn in despite yourself. The spider has moved. It’s up at the top corner of the glass now, motionless and properly positioned, legs extending in that weird, methodical way that makes you feel like it’s waiting for something.

You gaze.

It glances back.

And then, barely a blink, it’s not in the tank anymore.

You frown, leaning in. No one else appears to notice. Gwen is still talking to herself, while the rest of the group is split about the room in pairs, concentrated on the data.

You straighten up slightly, a shiver prickling down your neck.

And suddenly you feel it.

A sting, sharp and abrupt, right beneath the edge of your collar.

“Ah-” You flinch, swatting at your neck instinctively. Your fingertips capture something little and quick, barely a flash of motion as whatever-it-was slips to the ground and skitters behind a neighboring cabinet before you can get a clear look.

You peek around, pulse ticking up a little.

No one noticed. Gwen still scrolling. Octavious is chatting to a pair of pupils near the front of the class. The lab hums with fluorescent light and gentle chatter and the low static of air vents like nothing occurred at all.

You rub at your neck.

It doesn’t actually hurt. More of a pinch. Like a mosquito bite. It’s already disappearing.

Still, you drop your hand and catch a little speck of blood on your fingertip.

You wipe it on your coat before anyone can see.

Probably nothing.

You rejoin Gwen, eyes glancing back to the enclosure which, you now realize, does in fact still have a spider within it. Sitting very still.

Was it always there?

You swallow, nod like everything is okay, and mutter something about switching samples.

“Yeah,” Gwen answers, barely looking up. “Hey, did you see the mutation tags on specimen E-7? The CRISPR splice isn’t holding. They’re going to have to re-sequence.”

You mutter a half-agreeable tone and try to shake the tightness out of your shoulders.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Probably just an electric shock. Or dust. Or…

Whatever. You're overthinking it. You always do.

So you push your tongue to the inside of your cheek, scrawl something that loosely resembles a note into your diary, and try your best to stay focused.

You’ve got thirty more minutes of this tour.

You’re going to appear professional.

You’re going to act normal.

You’re going to ignore the odd heat still pulsating weakly at the base of your neck.

Because clearly, everything’s fine.

The bus trip home is difficult.

Not because of the route, you’ve traveled it a hundred times before, but because every time the brakes screech or someone coughs too loud, it seems like it’s reverberating within your head. Your head is hammering in this deep, full-body way, like the bones behind your eyes are vibrating. You chalk it up to skipping breakfast and the whole sprinting-across-campus-in-a-lab-coat thing. Plus, your neck still kind of hurts where that spider bit you, or… whatever that was. You keep telling yourself it’s nothing. It has to be nothing.

You tap your fingers on your thigh, trying to focus on anything but the pressure mounting in your skull.

The spider didn’t even leave a mark. Just a small dot of dried blood you wiped away, and that was it. No rash. No swelling. No allergic reaction. You didn’t faint or puke or turn into a creature from a late ‘90s sci-fi reboot, so that’s gotta be a victory, right?

Still. You feel odd. Like your limbs don’t entirely belong to you.

The city slides past outside the window, cars, bright lights, the classic rise of red-brick buildings giving way to the more residential things as you get closer to your stop. You close your eyes and lean your forehead on the glass. The chill feels good.

Too good.

When the bus pulls to a stop, you almost miss it.

You stagger down the steps, murmuring a tired “thanks” to the driver before hitting the sidewalk. Your legs feel unsteady. Your stomach lurches unpleasantly. You grab the straps of your backpack and draw in a breath of chilly evening air, hoping it helps.

It doesn’t.

By the time you reach the front door, you're sweating.

Uncle Ben unlocks it before you can even knock. “There you are,” he says, standing aside to let you enter. “Was starting to think you ditched me again for your mystery friend.”

You manage a feeble grin. “No ditching. Just… long day.”

He squints at you, his countenance softening. “You alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” It comes out too fast. You try again, quietly. “Just tired.”

You slip off your shoes and hang your bag by the entrance. Your coat gets tossed over the railing as you walk for the stairs. You can feel his gaze on your back the whole way up.

“Dinner’ll be ready in an hour,” he calls. “You want me to wake you if you sleep?”

“I’ll set an alarm,” you murmur, one hand holding the banister like the wood is the only thing keeping you standing.

You don’t make it to the alarm.

The second you enter into your room, something in your body gives out.

You manage to close the door behind you. That’s it.

You rip off Mark’s shirt in sluggish, awkward strokes and hurl it onto the side of the bed, too sweaty and nauseated to care where it goes. Every muscle in your body feels like you just got smashed by a city bus. You wobble toward the bed, clutch the mattress, and drop yourself down like your limbs are made of wet paper.

You don’t even change out of your clothes. You just cuddle up on top of the blanket and put your cheek to the soft pillow, eyes clamping tight as your head spins.

It’s not simply weariness.

It’s wrong.

Your skin is scorching, yet you're shivering too. Your fingertips feel like they’re buzzing. You hold them against your chest, attempting to anchor yourself, but it simply makes you feel more disoriented.

Your breath starts coming in shallow gasps. You can’t tell if it’s worry or fever or something else completely. The room tilts. You strain your eyelids tighter.

You think about yelling out for Ben.

You don’t.

You don’t want to worry him. You don’t want to explain that you might’ve gotten bitten by something in a government-funded gene lab and are now having the worst flu symptoms of your life.

You’ll just rest.

It’s probably just the day catching up with you. You’ve pushed yourself too hard before. Finals week had you running on energy drinks and vending machine trail mix, and you got through that. You’ll get through this.

Just a nap.

Just a little rest.

The last thing you detect before everything slips away is the quiet hum in your ears becoming louder, like static, or maybe your heartbeat. It fills your whole mind, and then

Black.

[shidoglazer]

rin claims that his hobbies are watching horror movies and playing horror games but it's actually having you on his lap while playing with your tits and fingering you.

#needthat

18+ rin itoshi smut his hobbies mdni

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* ＠shidoglazer

people think rins favourite activity during his days off would be horror movies and athletes conditioning, or maybe watching a football match or perhaps movies that include gore and blood.

they’re all wrong. because this is his favourite activity— your thighs being spread open by his legs as your sat on his bulge, completely stripped and vulnerable for him while he uses one hand to pinch and fiddle with your perky tit and the other one tracing down to your glistening pussy to play with it.

his fingers weren’t slender or specially long, but they were girthy and thick, just 2 fingers in you was able to make you whimper and squirm like an idiot, “you can’t even take my fingers, how’re you gonna hold up when i put my cock into you, princess?” with that stupidly smug tone of his.

you should be embarrassed from how loud your pussy slicks whenever his fingers move, you should be hating how smug and arrogant he sounded, yet the only thing you’re able to say or do is moan out his name like its a prayer.

“riiinnn, rinn,, p-lease! ah! rin, rin rin rinn,, rinnnnnnnnn!..” your back arched away from his stomach as he hooked his fingers upwards, rubbing against your g-spot. he placed tender kisses against the side of your head, a contrast from how rough his fingers are fucking into you.

“you’re going dumb on my fingers?” he asked, mumbling against your head, his voice vibrating throughout your skull. your hands gripped onto his thighs, letting out a breathy moan,

“rinn,, w’na cumm, wan c-cum, ple-ase!” you begged before your body jerked upwards when rin pinched onto your tit particularly hard. “y’didnt answer my question, pretty. are you going dumb on my fingers? say it f’me.” your mouth fell agape, trying to voice something out with a strained voice, it was hard to keep composure when his fingers were basically like a sex machine,

“i-i, going,, d’mb- on your ffingers!” you managed to get out of your throat as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“goood girl.” his fingers left your hole and trailed up to your sensitive bud, starting to rub against it furiously before your moans started coming out like a raging waterfall.

after you came, you desperately tried to crawl away from rins hold with shaky legs and a fucked out hole before your body dragged against the mattress as rin yanked you back by your ankles, flipping you over and holding your head to his chest. his fingers that were just in your hole tilted your chin up gently, revealing a face smothered in smudged mascara and tears. it was so, so, so wrong that the corners of his lips threatened to be pulled up as he saw that sight.

don’t worry, he’ll always end up pampering after pleasuring you dumb no matter how rough he was, he’ll set up a bath for you, feed you, dress you up in your pretty silky pyjamas and even do your skin care for you without you needing to move a muscle.

so yes— his favourite hobby isn’t watching horror movies or scary games, its pleasuring his girl until she falls apart in his arms.

★ check out my masterlist pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls plsplslspppslpslpslpsls i literally write BANGERS

[slutzforbueckers]

I love your sub p writing. Would you be open to writing a fic where reader invites Paige over to ‘Netflix and chill’ and reader starts teasing Paige and they end up getting yk freaky -💋

netflix and chill— p.b x fem!reader

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: inviting paige over to chill but it’s never really just chilling.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“stop looking at me like that.” paige mumbled. she wasn’t even supposed to be here—sitting in your living room with her back against the couch cushions, passing a blunt back and forth. she was supposed to be a celebratory dinner with her team, laughing and reminiscing about the good and bad times they shared together, but you called. you called and she came. every time.

she made some lame excuse as to why she had to leave early—the same lame excuse she used every time— and gave each of her teammates and coaches a hug with the promise to see them tomorrow. she caught a uber to your place without even second guessing. you had said you wanted to just chill, something casual, but your “just wanna chill” always turned into something more and she couldn’t stop herself from giving in.

neither of you ever brought up what you were, a label for what was happening, you just went with the flow. neither of you were seeing anyone else, it was a silent rule. there had been times when she had mentioned someone else and each time you nearly lost your shit, and vice versa. but somehow it worked for you.

“like what?” you feigned innocence, tilting your head to the side as you placed the blunt between your lips, taking a slow drag. paige watched as you exhaled, her eyes flickering down to your lips for a split second.

“like you’re tryna fuck me.” she rolled her eyes but there was no heat behind it.

“maybe i am,” you shrugged and pulled your legs from beneath you. you placed yourself in paige’s lap and she welcomed you with open arms, her hands immediately attaching to your hips. “let me show you something.”

you hit the blunt and just before exhaling you placed your fingers under her chin and tapped twice—silently telling her to open her mouth. paige’s lips parted and you blew the smoke right into her mouth, she inhaled as you exhaled, her eyes on you the entire time. without taking another thought, you kissed her—hard. paige moaned into your mouth, her grip on your hips tightening as she pulled you into her.

the both of you fought for dominance, tongues and teeth clashing. nothing about the kiss was proper—it was messy and hot. you pulled away slightly for air and she chased you, desperately clawing at you in efforts to have your lips back on hers. you used your free hand to grip her hair and tug it back, making her look up at you with low, glossy eyes, and kiss-swollen lips.

“need you so bad.” she whispered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. you leaned in, brushing your lips against hers just to tease her. her lashes fluttered, she could feel your breath mingling with hers and her skin was nearly on fire. “please.” her voice came out in a broken whimper, catching in her throat halfway.

you placed a quick kiss to her lips and slid off her lap so that you were standing in between her legs, you ran your fingers through her hair one last time. “you know where my room is, p.”

in a blink of an eye she was up, rounding the couch and heading straight for your room. you smiled to yourself and took one last hit of the blunt before putting it out. you could hear her shuffling around in your room, and you waited a second before going in.

when you entered your bedroom, paige was laid on your bed, nothing on, her knees bent, and a flushed face. her blonde hair fanned out messily on your pillow, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

"you gonna keep me waiting?" she asked, impatiently squirming, you shook your head with a chuckle and made your way to the bed. paige's legs dropped to be flat on the mattress and you crawled over her. paige’s hands came up to your shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. you kissed her again, slower this time, lingering. her arms wrapped around your neck, and she pulled you down with her, your body settling gently on top of hers.

your hand slid down her side, fingers gliding over her waist, her hip, until you cupped between her legs. she gasped softly, her eyes fluttering shut. she was already warm, already soaked. you touched her slowly at first, running your fingers through her folds, just enough to get her breathing sharp again.

“god, you’re always so wet,” you muttered, voice barely audible as you watched her reaction.

“only for you,” she whispered back without thinking, and her honesty sent a rush of heat through you.

you slid a finger inside, slow, then another, and she arched slightly, her mouth parting with a soft whine. her body tensed for a second, then relaxed into it, her hands clutching your back, like she needed something to hold onto.

you kept your forehead resting lightly against hers, watching every twitch of her face, every little shiver. her legs shifted, feet planting against the mattress as her hips rolled up to meet the rhythm of your hand.

“right there,” she breathed out, quiet, almost surprised. “just like that…”

you didn’t speed up right away. you kept it steady—deep, careful strokes, your thumb brushing her clit with gentle pressure. her body started to tremble beneath you, her breathing turning uneven.

“keep going,” she begged, her voice cracking. “don’t stop.”

“i’m not,” you whispered back, brushing your lips against hers again. “i got you.”

paige clung to you tighter, her mouth opening in a moan that she tried to swallow down. you could feel her legs starting to shake, her core tightening around your fingers, her nails digging into your skin without even realizing it.

you kissed her again, slow and warm, and she broke in your hands—body tensing around you as her orgasm hit. she buried her face into your neck, muffling her moan as her hips bucked up, chasing every last wave.

you stayed with her through it, not pulling away, not moving too fast—just holding her, kissing the side of her face while her breathing slowed again. her grip on you loosened, and she exhaled hard, laughing breathlessly against your skin.

“holy shit,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse. “i needed that.”

you smiled and kissed her temple. “i could tell.”

she rolled onto her side and pulled you in with her, your fingers still wet as they rested against her hip. you didn’t say anything for a second, just breathed with her.

“stay the night?” you asked quietly.

she didn’t even hesitate. “yeah. always.”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[wchswift]

── 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing! joel miller x f!reader

→ summary! after Ellie makes it clear, again, that she wants nothing to do with Joel, you follow him out of the barn and try to comfort him. → contents! post-winter dance scene, hurt/comfort, softness, emotional intimacy, established relationship. → word count! 764

Joel’s boots hit the snow hard and fast, like he could stomp out the ache in his chest if he tried hard enough. He hadn’t meant for things to go sideways. Hadn’t meant to snap. But he couldn't just stay there after Seth treated her like that. Saying that to them, thinking he was within his rights. Protect first, explain later.

Only Ellie didn’t want protection anymore. Not from him.

You watched it all. Ellie and Dina, hugging and kissing each other like the world was finally something light again. Then Seth happened—the way he looked at them, the way he treated them with poison.

The awkward shuffle of the crowd after Joel shoved the old man hard, words sharp and biting. Ellie’s face tight with that tangled mess of hurt and pride. Her words still hung in the air even now, heavy and biting—“What is wrong with you?”

You saw Joel flinch like she’d slapped him.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

You let him walk off at first. Gave him space. But when he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept disappearing into the dark like he meant to walk clear out of Jackson—you followed.

He didn’t hear you at first. Not over the wind. Not over whatever storm was raging in his head. But when you called his name, soft and sure, he paused.

“Joel.”

He didn’t turn around; he just let out a shaky breath, white in the cold air.

“Not a great party,” you offered gently, stepping closer.

He huffed, a joyless thing. “Didn’t come for the party.”

“No. I figured that.”

Silence stretched between you. Just the crunch of snow beneath your boots as you joined him, close enough to share the cold.

“She’s angry,” he said finally, voice low. “At me. Can’t blame her.”

“She’s a teenage girl,” you said quietly. “They stay angry at the people they love, Joel. It’s part of the job.”

“She don’t want me anymore.”

The words hit you hard. Not just because of the sadness in them, but because of how sure he sounded. Like it was a fact. Like he was already packing up that little piece of his heart and tucking it somewhere deep, where it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

You reached out, touched his arm, gentle.

“She does want you. She just doesn’t know how to say it when she’s mad.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to you finally. They were red-rimmed, jaw clenched so tight you could hear it grind. And beneath all that anger and shame was something raw—something splintered.

“You ever think maybe I’m just… bad at this?” he asked. “At all of it. Being here. Being with people. Keep screwin’ it up.”

You moved closer, your hand still on his arm. “Joel, if you were bad at it, you wouldn’t care this much.”

He looked down. His shoulders sank under the weight of whatever guilt he’d carried into that barn and out of it.

You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw. He didn’t flinch—just closed his eyes like he needed that contact to breathe again.

“She needs time. But she’s not gonna stop loving you overnight. And neither am I.”

That last part slipped out like a secret, quiet but certain.

His eyes snapped open. He looked at you like you were some kind of miracle he didn’t know how to believe in.

“You love me?” he asked, like he’d never heard those words said to him like that before.

You smiled softly, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

Joel swallowed hard. His hand came up, covering yours, rough fingers trembling just a little.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” he admitted. “Don’t wanna lose her. Don’t wanna lose you either.”

“You won’t,” you whispered. “You’re not gonna lose either of us.”

And right there in the dark, surrounded by snow and silence and the distant echo of laughter from the barn, Joel leaned forward, rested his forehead against yours. No kiss. No words. Just two people holding on in the quiet.

You stayed like that for a long moment, until his breathing calmed. Until some of the weight lifted.

Then you took his hand, laced your fingers through his.

“C’mon,” you said. “Let’s go home.”

And for the first time that night, Joel let himself follow.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

lina's notes: After watching the first episode of season 2 and already knowing what awaits us in the next chapters I had to write this!! This is my first time writing for Joel or any of Pedro's characters. I don't know if I'll write for him again but I love him so much and I just wanted to give him a little comfort :((

[pandapetals]

sunlight & sawdust

chapter ten: daffodils & drills

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter.But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop.For free.Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, minor jealously

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics.

"You both oughta thank me." Tommy leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, wearing the smuggest damn expression. "Wouldn’t even be together if it wasn’t for me."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you sipped your beer. "Tommy, you are so full of shit."

Joel chuckled beside you, the deep, warm sound rumbling in his chest. His arm draped easily over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns along your upper arm—something he did without thinking now, like touching you was second nature.

Tommy smirked, tipping his beer toward you. "Damn, I swear—ever since you started datin’ Joel, you’ve gotten a little meaner toward me."

"Nah," Joel said, tilting his bottle to his lips. "She’s just finally realizin’ how damn annoying you are."

"Annoying?" Tommy gasped in mock offense. "I introduced y’all."

"And?" Joel raised a brow. "That supposed to make up for twenty years of bein’ a pain in my ass?"

"Twenty? Please. I was an angel until at least the age of seven."

"Bullshit."

Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but you cut in smoothly, smirking over the rim of your drink. "You’re just mad. I stopped babying you and started babying Joel instead."

Joel snorted, shaking his head, while Tommy placed a dramatic hand over his heart.

"Damn. You don’t even try to deny it." He sighed, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "Fine, fine. Can’t blame a man for missin’ a pretty woman makin’ him feel special. Joel’s one lucky bastard."

Joel usually would’ve shot back something sharp, but he nodded instead. Then, before you could even process it, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your temple.

"That I am."

The words were simple, but the weight behind them settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through you.

Tommy groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. "Alright, that’s enough of that. If y’all start gettin’ mushy on me, I’ll leave."

Joel smirked against your skin, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Wouldn’t be the worst thing."

Tommy scoffed. "See? This is what I get for bringin’ y’all together."

You grinned, leaning further into Joel’s side, feeling light like you hadn’t in a long time.

"Guess you should’ve thought of that before playing matchmaker, huh?"

Tommy rolled his eyes, lifting his beer. "Yeah, yeah. Y’all can buy the next round since I’ve clearly suffered enough."

You chuckled, slipping out from under Joel’s arm, already reaching for your wallet. "Fine, fine. I’ll get ‘em. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone."

Joel’s hand lingered at your waist as you stepped away, his fingers trailing off your skin like he already missed the contact.

You weaved through the crowded bar, making your way to the counter, waiting for the bartender’s attention.

Joel leaned back in the booth, exhaling through his nose, watching as you walked away.

"You ever gonna stop glarin’ at her ass every time she leaves the table?" Tommy teased, smirking over the rim of his beer.

Joel grunted. "Mind your damn business."

Tommy only chuckled, about to make another smartass remark—until his eyes flicked toward the bar and narrowed.

"Shit."

Joel didn’t like that tone.

His brows furrowed. "What?"

Tommy’s smirk faded, replaced with something mildly amused but mostly knowing. He nodded toward the bar. "Think you got some competition, brother."

Joel turned his head and immediately felt his stomach tighten.

Some asshole was talking to you.

Tall, well-dressed, leaning in just a little too close, his elbow braced against the bar as he flashed you an easy grin.

You were smiling back.

Joel’s jaw clenched.

Not the real smile—the one you gave him when you let yourself soften, let yourself feel. No, this was your polite smile, which you used with customers, strangers, and people you didn’t want to be rude to.

But the guy didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t notice the way you kept a little distance. 

You slightly shifted your body away, your fingers tapping absently against the bar as if waiting for the bartender to hurry the hell up.

Joel noticed, and he hated it.

"Relax," Tommy drawled, watching Joel’s hand flex against his thigh. "She ain’t interested."

Joel knew that, but that didn’t stop the irrational heat curling in his chest. Didn’t stop the urge to stand the hell up and ensure that guy got the message.

Tommy smirked, clearly entertained. "Jesus, you look like you’re two seconds from knockin’ his teeth in."

Joel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay seated, fingers curling into a loose fist on the table. "I ain’t doin’ nothin’."

"Mhm. Sure." Tommy took another sip of his beer. "You’re sittin’ there lookin’ like you’re about to start a damn bar fight, but yeah—nothin’ at all."

Joel ignored him because the guy was still talking, still smiling.

Then—he reached out, his fingertips grazing your forearm.

Joel’s vision went hot.

"Shit," Tommy muttered, grabbing Joel’s arm in a half-hearted attempt to stop him, but Joel had already slipped out of the booth, making a beeline for you.

Joel barely heard whatever excuse Tommy threw at him. His focus was locked on the man standing too damn close, all easy smiles and casual confidence, his fingers brushing against your forearm like he had any business touching you.

Joel sized him up as he closed the distance. Younger than him, well-dressed, and looked like the kind of guy who had never worked a hard day in his life. His posture was relaxed and comfortable, as if he were used to getting what he wanted.

Joel clenched his jaw.

"No, it’s fine. I can totally arrange that," you said, voice polite but distant, the same tone you used when helping customers at the shop.

Joel didn’t care.

He stepped in behind you, his arms sliding around your waist with a slow, deliberate movement before pulling you firmly against his chest. His grip was secure, almost possessive, his chin hovering just above your shoulder as his eyes flicked up to meet the guys.

The man hesitated, glancing between the two of you. His friendly smile faltered just slightly. "Oh. I didn’t realize—"

Joel didn’t say a word; he just kept staring, sizing him up in silence.

The man cleared his throat, shifting his weight before taking a step back. "Well, uh, thanks again. I’ll swing by next week to pick up the arrangement."

Joel frowned, glancing down at you. Arrangement?

You sighed, leaning back into his chest a little, but your voice held amusement. "Joel, this is Andrew. He’s a customer at the shop."

Joel felt his stomach drop, heat creeping up his neck.

The guy wasn’t flirting. He was ordering flowers.

Joel had just made a complete fool of himself.

Andrew gave a small, awkward chuckle. "Yeah, I just needed something special for my mom’s birthday. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

"You didn’t," you assured him with a warm smile. "I’ll have it ready next week."

Andrew nodded, giving Joel a final glance before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as he was gone, you twisted in Joel’s arms, looking up at him with a smirk. "You thought he was flirting with me?"

Joel exhaled through his nose, looking away, but he didn’t let go of you. "He had his damn hands on you."

You laughed softly, reaching up to rest your palm against his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. "Are you jealous, handsome?"

Joel grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head, but his grip tightened slightly on your waist.

You smiled, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "You don’t have to be jealous. It’s only ever been you."

Something flickered in Joel’s expression, and instead of answering, he kissed you, slow and deep, right there at the bar, letting everyone see exactly who you belonged to.

Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you out of the moment. Joel’s lips hovered near yours for a second longer before you stepped back, catching your breath.

You pulled out your phone, skimming over the text from your babysitter.

Hey! Sorry, I can’t stay later tonight. Let me know when you’re on your way!

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I have to go. Babysitter’s gotta leave."

Joel gave a small nod, but his jaw was still tight, his hands flexing at his sides like he was barely holding something back.

"I’ll drive you," he said, no room for argument.

As much as you wanted to tease him, to smooth over the jealousy still simmering in his chest, something about how he looked right now—his shoulders tense, his grip still firm at your waist—made your stomach twist with something else entirely.

You both quickly said goodbye to Tommy before Joel led you outside, his hand on the small of your back.

The air was thick with summer heat, but the tension between you two was heavier.

He opened the truck door for you, waiting until you climbed inside before shutting it and walking around to the driver’s side.

The moment he slid into his seat, he started the truck, gripping the wheel a little too tightly as he pulled onto the road.

The silence was charged.

Streetlights passed in flickers of yellow glow, cutting across the sharp line of his jaw and the furrow between his brows. His fingers flexed against the wheel, his knuckles pale from how tight he was holding it.

You let the quiet settle for a moment before finally speaking.

"Joel."

He grunted in response, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"You’re still jealous."

His grip on the wheel twitched, but he didn’t answer right away.

"I ain’t jealous," he muttered, but the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel said otherwise.

You smirked, shifting in your seat to face him. "Really? Because the way you were looking at Andrew said otherwise."

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. "He put his hands on you."

"He touched my arm, Joel. Barely."

Joel’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening. "You laughed at somethin’ he said," he muttered.

You blinked, then bit back a smile. "Oh my god. You are jealous."

Joel didn’t respond, but his glare deepened, his hands gripping the wheel like it had personally offended him.

Your smirk softened into something fonder and warmer. You reached across the console, resting a hand on his thigh. "Joel."

His breathing slowed slightly at your touch, but he still didn’t look at you.

"You really think I’d let some random guy flirt with me when I’ve got you?"

Joel exhaled slowly, but his shoulders were still stiff.

"You don’t gotta—"

"I want to," you interrupted, squeezing his thigh gently. "You know it’s only you, right?"

His fingers flexed again, but this time, he relaxed, exhaling deeply, some of the tension finally unraveling.

After a long pause, he let one hand slip from the wheel, reaching over to cover yours, squeezing it tight.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice low. "I know."

At the next red light, Joel turned to you. "C’mere."

His voice was rough, thick with something you didn’t have the strength to deny.

You barely had time to react before his hand slid up your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you in.

The first press of his lips was firm, needy—not desperate, not rushed, but intentional like he had been waiting for this. Like he wasn’t going to waste a single second now that he had it.

You melted into him instantly, hands fisting in the worn fabric of his flannel, tugging him closer across the console. His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours in a way that sent heat curling low in your stomach.

The light changed.

Neither of you moved.

The driver behind him honked, and Joel growled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to mutter, "Fuckin’ hell."

You bit your lip, breathless, your forehead still resting against his as he put the truck in gear and gunned it down the road.

The second he pulled up to your place, he cut the engine and turned to you, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide, leaving only the low hum of the night around you—the distant chirp of crickets, the faint sound of a car passing somewhere down the street. But in his truck's small, dark space, all you could hear was your own rapid heartbeat.

"I have a few minutes," you murmured, your voice softer. You breathed more than the sound.

It was all he needed.

"Ain’t gotta tell me twice, sweetheart."

His hand was on you before you could take another breath, rough fingers sliding up the back of your neck, tangling in your hair as he pulled you in.

Heat surged between you when your lips met, deep and slow, like a fire catching just right.

Joel kissed you like he was making up for lost time. Like he’d been starving for this all night. His lips moved against yours with purpose, his free hand gripping your thigh, fingers flexing, kneading like he needed to feel you.

You gasped into his mouth as he pulled you closer, your body half-shifting over the console, desperate to be nearer, to press up against the solid warmth of him.

"Fuck," Joel muttered against your lips, voice rough, reverent like he was losing himself in this—in you.

You barely registered the way his hand skimmed along your side, dragging over your ribs, your waist, holding you firm as his mouth dipped to your jaw, then lower, hot breath fanning across the column of your throat.

"Joel—"

His name left your lips in a breathy sigh, and fuck—he shuddered at the sound, his grip tightening, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck before he kissed over it, tongue soothing the spot.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your skin, his hands sliding lower, spreading over your hips like he was memorizing the shape of you.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped, voice strained, but he didn’t pull away. His forehead rested against yours; his breath was hot and heavy between you.

You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming in your ears.

"I don’t want to," you admitted, hands still fisted in his flannel.

Joel cursed under his breath, lips brushing yours again, a promise, a plea.

Your eyes snapped open. "But, I really have to go."

Joel let out a pained groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder like he needed a second to compose himself before letting you go.

You exhaled, smoothing your hands down his chest before pulling back, lips tingling, your body still buzzing with want.

"I have to go," you whispered, hating the words even as you said them.

Joel’s hands flexed on your hips like he was considering telling you to stay.

But then he sighed, nodding once. "I know."

Still, he didn’t let you go right away. His fingers trailed one last time along your thigh before he finally pulled back, watching as you reached for the handle.

"I’ll call you," he said, voice still rough, filled with something more profound.

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder. "Damn right, you will."

As you slipped out of the truck, legs still shaky, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you like he was already counting down the hours until he could get his hands on you again.

____________

Joel was rarely a desperate man. He prided himself on keeping a good head on his shoulders, staying level, and not letting things get to him.

But when it came to you?

Jesus, everything went right out the damn window.

He stood on your porch, arms crossed, watching you wrangle Ellie into her sneakers. The little girl was practically excited, rambling a mile a minute about the perfect picnic spot she had picked out in the park.

Joel didn’t know how he’d gotten here—how he’d gone from keeping you at arm’s length to standing on your porch, waiting to haul a picnic basket down to the truck like this was normal.

Hell, maybe it was normal now.

Not that he minded. Spending more time with Ellie was something he wanted.

She’d warmed up to him over the last three months in a way that wrecked him—slow at first, quiet stares and shy little hellos, then tugging at his hand when she wanted to show him something, then climbing right into his lap with a book like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Now she was damn near bossing him around.

“Joel, we have to bring the lemonade,” Ellie insisted, standing on her tiptoes to rifle through the fridge.

You chuckled, grabbing the pitcher before she could knock anything over. “The lemonade is packed, sweetie. Anything else?”

Ellie nodded seriously, placing her hands on her hips. “Yeah, we definitely need extra cookies.”

Joel smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Kinda sounds like you just wanna eat cookies instead of lunch, kiddo.”

Ellie gasped, looking offended as she turned to him. “Excuse me, we are having a balanced meal—” she pointed at the basket. We got sandwiches, fruit, and veggies. That means we can have all the cookies.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That right?”

Ellie nodded firmly. “It’s called science.”

You snorted, handing her the container of cookies. “If it’s science, who are we to argue?”

Joel just shook his head as Ellie beamed in victory.

Once everything was packed, he loaded the basket into the truck, letting Ellie climb in first before helping you up.

The drive to the park was filled with Ellie’s chatter, flipping through the radio stations, making up ridiculous scenarios about the squirrel mafia she’d seen the last time you were there. Joel just listened, letting the warmth settle into his chest.

When you finally reached the park, Ellie practically jumped out of the truck, pointing toward a big oak tree near the pond. “That’s the perfect spot.”

Joel carried the basket while you laid out the blanket, Ellie helping in her own way by sprawling across it dramatically.

“This is perfect,” Ellie sighed, staring at the sky like she’d solved all the world’s problems.

Joel settled down beside you, stretching his legs out. “You gonna actually eat or just lay there talkin’ about eatin’?”

Ellie shot up, grabbing a sandwich. “I can multitask.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head as you passed him a sandwich of his own.

The afternoon passed in easy conversation, laughter, and too many cookies. Ellie had conned Joel into arm wrestling (he let her win, but not too easy), and then she’d made him tell a story—“a cool one, not some boring old man story”—which turned into a ridiculous tale about outlaw squirrels that had you both laughing until your stomachs hurt.

At some point, Ellie dozed off in the shade, curled up next to Joel, her head resting against his arm.

You watched him, heart aching in the best way.

“She’s comfortable with you,” you murmured.

Joel glanced down at Ellie, his expression softer than you’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Guess she is.”

You smiled warmly, your gaze lingering on Joel, tracing the familiar lines of his face—the roughness of his beard, the creases around his eyes that deepened when he smirked, the way the sunlight caught the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

Joel caught you staring.

"What? Got crumbs in my beard?" he asked, smirking as he wiped a hand across his jaw.

You shook your head, your smile soft. "No. Just looking at you."

His smirk faltered slightly, something else flickering behind his gaze. Your eyes drifted to his lips, and Joel wasn’t usually a desperate man, but goddamn, you did things to him. Made him feel things he hadn’t in a long, long time.

His voice came out lower, rougher. "C’mere."

You raised a brow, smirking. "Nah. Last time you said that in that tone, it meant trouble."

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Now, darlin’, I just wanna kiss ya. I wouldn’t try anything with Ellie here."

His voice was playful, but his eyes said more.

Something warm unfurled in your chest, spreading to the tips of your fingers as you slowly shifted, moving around Ellie’s sleeping form to press closer to Joel.

His arm slid around you instinctively, his other hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, tracing lightly along the curve of your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet his eyes.

"See?" he murmured. "Not so bad."

You let out a breathy laugh. "I never said it was bad."

Joel smirked, then closed the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was steady like he had all the time in the world to savor it, and he did. 

Your lips moved against his, and you sighed softly into the kiss, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

It was something tender, real.

He didn’t go far when he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

"Could get used to this," he murmured.

You smiled, your fingers brushing lightly along his stubbled jaw.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Me too."

Joel smiled, a soft sigh escaping him as he traced slow circles against your hip with his thumb. "It’s been a hell of a time these past three months, sweetheart."

You searched his eyes, catching the slight hesitation in his voice. "But?"

"Ain’t no but," Joel assured you, his grip on you tightening just slightly like he wanted to hold onto this—onto you. "I ain’t in no hurry."

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sincerity in his face. He meant it.

Still, you exhaled softly, nodding. "I get it." Because you did.

The lingering glances, the way his hands roamed just a little slower each time he touched you, and the long, heated kisses that left you both breathless led to this unspoken moment.

Sleeping with Joel wasn’t just about desire. It would solidify this thing between you.

Maybe that made you both hesitate—how real it all was.

"Like I said, no rush," he murmured, his knuckles grazing your cheek, his touch softer than it had any right to be.

You smirked, tilting your head. "You say that, but I’ve seen how you look at me."

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "And how’s that?"

Your fingers trailed lightly over the collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin just beneath the fabric. "Like you wanna devour me."

Joel let out a rough breath, his hand tightening on your waist. "You’re makin’ it real damn hard to be a gentleman, sweetheart."

You grinned, leaning in, lips just barely brushing his. “Soon. Real soon.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still—like all that mattered was the space between you, the heat, the tension, the pull.

Joel exhaled sharply, pressing a firm kiss to your temple instead of your lips like he needed to ground himself. "You ain’t makin’ this easy."

Your heart fluttered at the restraint in his voice, the way he wanted you so badly but refused to rush it.

You smiled against his cheek. “Good.” 

taglist: @hermionelove, @niceforcum, @ashhlsstuff, @doeeyestoji, @12thatsanumber, @cherrygirl19, @thottiewinemom, @ladynightingale, @doodlebob-mp3, @alitaar, @starwarskawaii, @hduuc56, @naniiiii12, @possiblyafangirl, @alienjoel, @leesromanova, @kungfucapslock, @forpunishers, @yallgotkik, @cuteanimalmama, @worhols, @lumpatto, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @vickie5446, @its-in-the-woods, @onlythehobi, @ro-nahime-things, @ashleyfilm

[sukumna]

┌─ WHEN HE MAKES YOU CRY

characters; gojo. naoyo. toji.

warnings; fem!reader. hurt/comfort. ddlg!!! (no age regression) daddy kink. 24/7 ds relationship. suggestive uh yeah.

notes; this is so self indulgent you guys i’m sorry SHSHHS. i was gonna remove the daddy and make it normal but 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️.

✦ — TOJI FUSHIGURO

you’re in the corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, glaring at him through tear-filled eyes. he just stares.

and then—

“fuck,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

his voice drops. “don’t do that. don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.”

you don’t answer. he walks over, crowding into your space, and you flinch—just a little.

it wrecks him. he presses his forehead to yours.

“you scared of me now?” he murmurs. “that what i’ve done to you?”

your breath hitches and he kisses the corner of your eye.

“you cryin’ like that and i’m still standin’ here instead of on my fuckin’ knees,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist. “what’s wrong with me, huh?”

he lifts you up, sits you on the counter like you weigh nothing.

“let daddy take care of it,” he whispers. “let me kiss it better. all of it. all of you.”

his mouth is soft when it finds yours, but his hands grip you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

✦ — GOJO SATORU

you turn away mid-sentence, and he thinks you’re done with the conversation—until he sees your shoulders shake.

“wait,” satoru says, voice tight. “are you crying?”

you try to hide it, but your sniffle betrays you.

he’s on you in seconds, spinning you around and cupping your face in his hands. “no, no, baby, hey—look at me. shit. did i really make you cry?”

his thumb brushes your tears like they burn. you can feel his hands slightly trembling.

“daddy didn’t mean it,” he whispers. “you know i’m just an idiot, right?”

he pulls you into his lap and kisses your temple over and over.

“you want me to make it up to you?” he murmurs, pressing a hand between your legs, not even teasing—just holding. “want daddy to take care of her? make her forget everything?”

you sniff and mumble out a small mhm.

his voice is all sugar now. “don’t cry for me, baby. let daddy fix it.”

✦ — NAOYO ZENIN

you slam the door on your way to the bedroom, and he almost lets you go.

but then he hears the sob. soft. quiet. but real.

he grits his teeth and follows.

“stop that,” he says, and it sounds cruel—until he kneels in front of you, grabs your wrists and pulls them from your face.

“don’t hide from me,” he mutters. “not when you’re crying.”

you hiccup, tears wetting your lashes, and he feels it—something split open inside him.

his hand curls around the back of your neck. he leans in.“you’re so fucking pretty when you cry,” he breathes. “but don’t waste those tears on some little fight.”

he pulls you onto his lap, his hand sliding up your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your back.

“you need daddy to help you calm down?” he hums against your throat. “you want me to love on you? hmm?”

you nod, barely. he smirks.

“then tell daddy how to fix it.”

[sungist]

LOOSE .. when they’re protective over you

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗧𝗛─────── possessive boyfriend enhypen

百 ENHYPEN x f!r + 1OOO+ count. ( ! ) possessive, kissing, skinship, mdni 18+ 爱 don’t forget to click

𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝒊𝖮𝖭𝖲 please

HEESEUNG

his eyes land on the guy that’s been eyeing you like eye candy. heeseung’s fingers flex tighter around the plush of your thigh.

“seung” your voice comes out breathy when his hand inch higher, caressing your inner thigh. heeseung kept eye contact with the guy across the room.

“shh baby let him watch” he hums. fingers going under your shorts to rub you. your panties are already soaked from how long he’s been teasing you since you arrived at this place. if anyone looked close enough they’d catch the way your thighs press together, his hand in between.

“so wet for me already, baby?” heeseung chuckles low beside your ear, his other hand rests on the curve of your ass. you whimper while your boyfriend continues to tease you, pressing and rubbing you slowly.

“hees—“ you get cut off short with your own whimper when he pushes in two fingers in you. “fuck, baby, you’re so tight” he groans quietly curling his finger in you. your thighs tremble under his touch, barely keeping yourself up when your knees start to buckle.

heeseung’s fingers pump in you to the beat of the loud music playing. you gasp when he curls in deeper, the spot he keeps hitting making your vision blurry. “fuck— seung, ‘m gonna come”

“come for me baby” he smiles into your neck, kissing down your throat, “let him see how easy it is for me to ruin you”

JAY

“jay, slow down” you huff out between breaths, feeling your boyfriend’s warm mouth work in you. his pace is excruciatingly slow, savoring the taste of you.

he hums, the action vibrating throughout your whole body causing you to jerk into his mouth further. your hands come tugging at his hair harder, pushing him closer to your core.

he sucks at your clit and the pleasure was too unbearable. your legs threaten to close but his hands are firm on both your thighs, keeping it spread open for better access.

“princess, you taste so good” he says pulling away from you, you whimper at the loss of contact, walls clenching around nothing. he kisses up your stomach to your chest, then your neck.

you can’t help but realize how beautiful he looks, lips swollen, mouth slick, eyes glazed over while kissing your whole body like he’s worshipping it.

he slides back down. your breathing is labored as your arch your back, the pressure builds up low in your stomach with every flick of his tongue. eyes rolling back every time nose nudges your core. you grip the sheets as you chase your release, moaning out loudly.

jay laps up ever single drop before coming up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on him. “i’m the only one who gets to ruin you like this, yeah?”

JAKE

you’ve always loved pushing on your boyfriends buttons. you don’t really plan them— they just happen. the thrill of watching the way his blood simmers lets you have a little fun.

but now? now you’re paying. smirk from earlier gone and replaced with soft gasps spilling from your lips. your eyes close when jake leans in, rolling his hips slowly.

“where’d all that talk go, huh?” jake chuckles. watching you struggle to even form any words. “you were so loud earlier”

your mouth opens but no words come out, instead your hips twitch at the pace, grinding yourself on him for more friction. jake’s hand comes up to still your hips and you let out a whimper.

“no baby, you wanted to piss me off so much before, so where did all that confidence go?” he coos into your ear. you cry out when he pulls out of you, only to snap his hips back in harder.

“‘m sorry—“ you breathe out, “didn’t mean to make you mad, jakey—“ your words cut off abruptly, feeling two of his fingers stretch you wider. you didn’t even realize your tears were falling until you feel your boyfriend’s hand carress your cheeks and kissing them.

“shh baby, this is what you get, mkay? i’ll take care of you real good after this” he says softly, cupping your jaw and kissing you deep, drowning out all your moans.

SUNGHOON

sunghoon hates it. he hates the way guys get too close to you and the way you’re so oblivious about it. you’re too nice, way too innocent for the way these guys eye you up and down like you’re about to be their next meal.

because in reality, only he knows you. only he knows how you smile when you’re content, how your eyes crinkle when something is particularly funny, and he knows how you sound when your needy.

“hoonie.. did i do anything wrong?” you stand in front of him, bottom lip jutted out. sunghoon ignores you, eyes not leaving his screen that’s opened up to an assignment he’s working on. you contemplate for a second before getting on top of your boyfriend, legs slipping bracketing his hips and straddling his lap.

“hoon” you mumble. he finally looks up at you, eyes half-lidded. you open your mouth to say something, but quickly shut it when you feel him shift, his bulge underneath you growing.

the skirt you sport did little to cover the wet patch blooming on your panties and you are sure he knows it by the way his head is tilted at you. you know it’s reckless, could even be embarrassing when the post-haze starts to kick in but your hips start moving. humping him over your the layers of clothing.

when he moans, it’s broken. all the tension in his body eases out. his hands reach for your hips, ghosting over them, grounding himself. your head falls on his neck and he breathes you in, “mm you’re all mine, right baby?”

SUNOO

“you wouldn’t have gone for him, would you?” your boyfriend hums in your ear. you’re currently sat on his lap, chatter alive from behind the closed door of the bedroom.

you shake your head slightly in response and he smiles against your neck, trailing down kisses over to the base of your throat and up your jaw. you feel his hands slide under your shirt, caressing your waist.

“sun, what if someone walks in” you ask, brows creased into a line as he starts to work down the buttons on your shirt, letting the silk slide off you.

“you look perfect” he breathes out. you were about to argue once again, but you catch the way he’s looking at you through the mirror across. his gaze holds so much pure love and affection all the words die down on your tongue.

in a few quick movements he lays you down on the bed, a soft gasp escaping your lips. his practiced hand comes behind you to unclip your bra, while his mouth goes on yours. the kiss isn’t messy, it’s deep, longing. you clench your mouth shut as his mouth trails down your neck and down to your chest, mouth taking in one of your buds and sucking on it.

your hands come up to tangle in his hair, tugging at it from the sensation. he laughs into you, “you okay, babe?” he asks mouth already swolen and wet, looking up at you through his lashes. fuck, you’re so gone.

JUNGWON

“hey” his hand slides around your shoulder, tight. eyes barely glancing at you before landing on the guy in front of you, your chem lecture seat mate. “who’s this?”

you can tell your boyfriend’s pissed. if his tone itself isn’t a tell-tale sign that he needs this guy to be out of his sight by the next minute, the way his jaw ticks does, “her boyfriend”

jungwon watches as the guy’s face continue to crumble hopeless. watches as he scoffs and stumbles over his words before ultimately leaving you two alone. you raise your eyebrow at him, shrugging his arm off you.

“didn’t know we’re telling people we’re a thing now” you start, his gaze slowly lands on yours, your tone simmers with something bitter, “i thought i remember someone saying they wanted to keep this lowkey”

when he doesn’t answer you continue, “you know you really piss me off sometimes. you act like every guy i talk to is interested in me while—“ you cut off short, his lips on yours.

you freeze only a second before melting into him, letting his hand find its way to your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. he bites down on your lip and you groan, tongue sliding in.

a moment later he pulls back for air, mouths swollen and face flushed. his eyes are fixed on yours, “are you done talking?”

RIKI

he’s probably have to be strapped down to a chair and fed warlocks before ever having to confess that he pissed, or worse, jealous. because it’s not like your relationship is serious, not like you were the one who said that to him after kissing him.

“keep looking at them like that and your eyes will eventually fall off” jake laughs at his friend. watching along the interaction happening between you and a well-liked senior in the campus. riki looks away, taking a sip off jake’s bottle.

“i don’t care” he huffs out. that elicits more laughs from the boy.

“sure you don’t” his friend just ultimately shrugs, sporting a wide grin on his face, “you probably don’t have an album for her too”

riki was about to retort back, except his eyes find you again. the conversation has (finally) stopped and you’re walking their way now, your pretty smile taking up half your face. jake pats riki on the back before running off to the field.

“riki! hey” you grin when you catch sight of him. barely noticing the subtle shift in his posture, guarded. he hums back a half-hearted greeting towards you, way more interested in the cap of jake’s bottle.

a second later he feels your palm rest on his forehead. shit. he squints up at you, the sun bright out, “what are you—“

“are you sick? you seem really quiet today” you frown. and god does he want to kiss that frown off your face, to tell you that he wishes he’s the only guy you talk to, the only guy you wish to talk to. he settles for a small smile.

“why? worried about me?”

𝗵𝗮𝒛𝗲𝗹 : hello ^—^ i had so much fun writing this

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ SAY IT AGAIN

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: you find out caleb had been logging into your phone at random times of the day to keep track of who you were texting. frustrated, you call him to yell at him only to question what exactly he was doing on the other end.

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+ , phone sex , sub!caleb (per usual) , masturbation , cnc , use of y/n

a/n :: highkey got this idea from that one scene in twk when cardans kissing jude & telling her to say she hates him..🌝🌝

he had absolutely no right to be invading your personal space. absolutely none.

you were so fucking angry.

caleb was away on a trip with gran. usually, he would simply ask to check your phone, and you'd happily give it to him- knowing he means well. but with the shit he has been pulling, you're starting to question whether or not he really does trust you like he says he does.

you had found out that he was hacking into your phone because the device started acting awfully odd. opening apps you didnt click on, siri turning on without any context, letters on the keyboard being pressed when you never tapped on them in the first place. confused (and frankly a little scared), you took it to a professional to get it checked out. when he asked if anyone else had the password to your socials, thats when the realization dawned on you.

you felt so stupid. utterly dumb. but how were you supposed to know? you had told caleb about the issue multiple times and each occasion you mentioned it he would always say the same thing: "thats so weird, pips.. maybe you should go get it checked out or something." feigning complete innocence.

you had enough.

driving home as fast as you could, you barely reach the front door before you're calling him nonstop until he answers.

"hey pips! i missed yo-"

"you fucking liar."

there's a beat of silence at that. your breathing is heavy, going right into the mic- giving caleb an idea of what he's in for.

"um.. excuse me?" caleb manages, swallowing thickly. he knows exactly what you're going to yell at him for and he's praying to jesus christ himself that he can manipulate his way out of it.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about, don't try to play dumb. you've been going into my phone and looking through my shit. i thought you said you trusted me? what happened to that? i mean, seriously, caleb, i thought we had gotten over this." you say, voice pinched a bit higher than usual. you're pacing around the room in order to keep yourself calm, heart beating at a distressing rate as you don't like to argue with him.

"pips, i really don't know what you're talking about," he utters, licking his lips. "i know whats been going on with your phone has been messing you up, but you don't necessarily have to blame me for it. look, once i get back i'll help you figure out what's wrong with it just to prove that it's not me. deal?"

you can tell that he's trying his best to soften his tone to make his lie more believable, but you aren't gonna buy into it.

"no. no, caleb, just quit the act already. i'm so tired of this. i'll give you two choices," you say, sitting down on the couch; elbows on your knees. "either you stop with the whole hacking thing and we stay together, or i cut things off with you and we never talk again."

for a moment, there's nothing being said. pure silence. he's absolutely speechless on his end of the phone, mouth agape and eyes wide. every few seconds, he'd attempt to say something but nothing would come out- resulting in something that resembled a stutter.

"well? what's it gonna be?" you asked, becoming to grow impatient.

"y/n.." he whispered. "you.. you can't do that to me. i-.. i'm sorry for doing all that crap. i didn't do it because i don't trust you... it's other people that i don't trust. please believe me, baby. i can't stop doing it, it's just my way of keeping you safe."

aaaand now it's your turn to be shocked.

"are you fucking serious?" you yell, and you swear you can see the look on his face regardless if he's visible or not. eyebrows raised up, cheeks as red as roses, eyes backed up with tears. you know how much he hates being yelled at by you... but he deserves it. "you can't be serious. please tell me you're pulling some joke."

" baby, please. i-"

"enough. just quit it. i fucking hate you, caleb."

he swallows. no, practically gulps. he shouldnt be turned on by the sound of that. he really shouldnt. he knows he should be terrified by the threat of you leaving him... but the tent growing in his pants is getting undeniably uncomfortable that he just can't seem to care.

unzipping his jeans, he gently lays his back on his bed, being carefully quiet to ensure you don't hear.

"you're fucking insane and no matter how much i try to talk to you about it you never change. it is draining, caleb. you have absolutely no idea how fucked up you are."

he's nodding against his phone, murmuring small 'yeah's here and there to let you know that he's listening. what you aren't aware of is the fact that instead of really listening, he's actually moving his hand at an insane speed on his dick. it gets to the point that he can't even respond, the pleasure taking over. all he needs is for you to tell him how bad he is and how much you despise him for him to be able to go over the edge.

the fact that you don't even know whats going on keeps him going for even longer.

"...-is so frustrating, caleb! you don't even care for me and... wait, are you even listening? hellooo?" you shout, expecting an answer.

he picks up his phone from where it was sitting on his pillow and takes it off speaker phone to reply. "y-yes, baby? 'm sorry.. i'm, um, listening. keep talking." he responds, stuttering over his words.

you roll your eyes, thinking he simply just doesn't care. "my god, you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so much, y'know that?"

he nods hastily, even though you can't see it. "y-yes. say it again. please." the last word comes out broken as he was embarrassingly close to cumming.

you stop in your tracks, both eyebrows furrowed. "um..." you utter, confused at what he was playing at. "i... hate.. you..?"

"f-fuck!" he whisper-shouts, hips thrusting into his hand as he drops the device back onto where it was initially. he brings his previously free hand down to his cock to stroke the tip, twisting his wrists. biting his lip, hard enough to draw blood, he makes his best effort to keep little whimpers inside of his mouth. it works for the most part... but you already knew what was happening. he does it too many times for you to not know.

"caleb." you warn.

he doesn't answer, he can't answer, mind is too hazy from the force of his orgasm. he's practically like putty on his bed, half asleep and half awake.

"text me in the morning." you say before hanging up and throwing your phone on the bed.

he will not ever learn.

[rowdydevs]

+18 -> smut | Rafe comes home from jail.

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: ownership, pet names, brief degradation,  drinking, heavy praise, size difference, unprotected p in v + *cross-posted on my nhl account*

1.8k

You were pacing in front of the door, heart racing as you waited for Rafe. The apartment smelled like the strawberries you’d dropped into the flutes, like the faint hint of your perfume warmed by nervous excitement. You smoothed your silk robe, the cool slide of it over bare skin doing absolutely nothing to calm your anticipation.

Rafe had served his time. Six long months, countless lonely nights; counting down the days ‘til he’d be home again, and the day was finally here. You were buzzing with excitement and need. He deserved to be worshiped, and you were gonna do just that.

The keys jingled outside the door, and your breath caught. You grabbed the bottle of champagne, thumb pressed against the loosened cork.

He stepped in, his cheeks flushed from the cold, his smile soft and proud—until he saw you. You grinned, eyes gleaming. “WELCOME HOME, BABY!” You cheered, cracking the cork with a loud pop.

Champagne erupted, a fizzy stream catching the light as it splashed and glittered to the floor. You laughed, careless and radiant, holding the bottle aloft like a trophy. 

His eyes dropped slowly, lingering on the robe slipping off your shoulder, to the lace peeking through the part in the silk. That boyish grin of his twisted turned darker, hungrier even, because how the hell was he supposed to think about anything but you?

He chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. You hadn’t forgotten how horny he was on the phone last night, how he talked shamelessly on the recorded line about all the things he wanted to do to you before the timed phone call got cut short. You hadn’t forgotten all the promises he made to take care of you tonight. 

His eyes roamed slowly, drinking you in like every inch of you was a prize he’d earned. Rafe’s stride was lazy, full of that natural swagger. Your eyes drifted higher the closer he got, the man towering over you, even as you stood in heels. Your heart hammered in your chest, your stomach fluttering, pussy throbbing because you were finally his to handle.

“Hey, princess,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. His hand brushed your waist, fingers curling around the satin tie. Rafe played with it for a second, teasingly twirling his fingers through it; letting his thumb drag under the knot. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby,” you whisper, watching as the corners of his pretty lips curl into a smirk.

“You really know how to work me, don’t you? You still know the shit I like. Damn, you look good.”

And in one soft tug from him, the robe opened, slipping down your body, pooling around your heels. He stepped forward, arms wrapping around you in one smooth motion, lifting you, those big hands gripping your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

Your body molded to his, soft against the hard lines of muscles. Rafe leaned in, and you didn’t wait, claiming his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as he started walking straight to the bedroom. You giggle teasingly against his lips, your nose brushing his as he carries you down the hall. “That was fast—”

“You knew exactly what you were doin’,” he hums, his voice sweet and thick like honey. You grin, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m a free man,” he continues, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. “You got all pretty for me… Now we’re gonna celebrate all night long.”

“Is that so?” you ask, capturing his bottom lip between yours, sucking off nice and slow.

“Mhmm,” he groans, the sound vibrating against your mouth. “You’re gonna ride me.” You giggle again, making him grin at the sound, his grip on you tightening just a little. “Such a slut for me, baby. I knew you’d love that.”

Rafe kicks the door shut with a loud slam, the sound echoing through the room as he strides straight to the bed with you still clinging to him.

He tosses you down and you bounce slightly on the mattress, hair splayed, laughter bubbling from your lips as you look up at him. Rafe yanks off his shirt, muscles flexing, eyes locked on you. He reaches for the bottle of champagne and takes a sip, drinking in every inch of skin.

His boxers are the only thing left, his long, thick cock pushing against the fabric, stressed from the stretch. He moves to the mattress, landing on you, crushing you beneath him, your body trapped under only a fraction of his weight.

You gasped as he rolled you onto his lap, his big hands settling on your hips as you straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush mattress on either side. You reached behind your back, fingers finding the clasp of your bra, undoing it, lowering the straps teasingly, before letting the lace fall away completely.

Your breasts bounce free, nipples hard, body bare, nothing but a pair of crotchless panties and garter belt cinched around your waist, hugging the fullness of your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice gravelly and thick as his eyes fell low. “These new? They are, aren’t they—Holy shit, baby,” he mumbles as his hands find the waistband of his boxers, his eyes devouring you like you were already stuffed full of his dick, riding him like he’s been dreaming about since his first night behind bars. Having you like he’s been craving you for months.

Rafe sat up and pulled you into a deep, claiming kiss as his big hands came up to cup your tits, fingers spreading wide.

“I missed you, baby. Fuck, you look good,” you praised, soft and sultry, scratching your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He let out a dark, smug laugh.

“Yeah? You look good, pretty. So fuckin’ good.”

He leaned back slightly, grabbed the chilled champagne off the nightstand, and took a long, satisfied sip before handing it to you. You tipped it back a little too fast, and some of the bubbly liquid spilled over, slipping from your lips and trickling down your neck, over your tits.

“So fuckin’ messy,” he murmured, dipping his head and dragging his tongue along your skin, licking up the trail of champagne on the swell of your breast. Rafe grabbed the bottle out of your hands, dribbling just a little more onto one nipple, watching the way it beaded cold before he wrapped his lips around you, moaning as he sucked, his hot tongue circling slowly.

He kissed and licked his way back up, following the curve of your neck until his mouth met yours again.

Your hand slid between your bodies, wrapping around his thick, throbbing cock. He moaned against your lips as you squeezed, his dick hot and heavy in your grip, pulsing with every beat of his heart.

He let out a shuddering breath, hips twitching as you stroked him slowly, letting your thumb brush over the slick bead of pre-cum.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his voice strained as his eyes fluttered shut for just a second. You pressed your hand to his broad chest, pushing him to the mattress. His back hit with a soft thud, eyes flickering to yours as he smiled as you pinned him beneath your palm. Rafe could easily overpower you in any situation, but this is exactly what he wanted.

His hand tightened on your hip as he held his cock steady, thick and twitching, guiding you closer. You swirl your hips, teasing the fat tip of his cock with your soaked pussy.

“C’mon, baby. Let me have it, huh? Didn’t you miss me?”

“Is that even a question?” You whisper as you lower yourself slightly, already feeling the stretch.

“Guess not… Not with how soaked you are. Mpfhh, shit–You always this wet, or just for me?” He smiled, his hooded eyes twinkling as he looked up at you. 

“Only for you.”

Rafe grabs your hips, lowering you the rest of the way, inch by delicious inch. Letting you feel every curve and throbbing vein as your body swallows him up.

His eyes glued to the spot where your bodies met. “Ugh, fuck. That’s it, baby. Feels so good. So tight. So fucking deep,” he mumbled as he pressed his hand against your lower stomach, letting his thumb rub soothing circles on your clit. You started to move and grind, making his eyes roll back, feeling the way your pussy clenched around him.

His grip tightened with desperation hand wrapped around your neck, fisting your hair to guide you down, pulling you into a deep kiss. “You’re unreal,” he whispered against your lips. “Look at what you’re doin’ to me.” His breathing was quick against yours, the man driving his heels into the mattress, fucking up into your drenched core for a moment before giving you back control.

“You know how lucky I am? I’ve got it all. I’ve got you. Right here. In my bed. On my cock. You’re everything, baby.” His head dropped back with a growl, his hands flying to your hips, gripping tight as his entire body arched under you. “Ride me again. Let me have it—”

You moaned through a smile, pushing off his strong chest to sit up again, bouncing, skin slapping against skin. “Fuck, just like that. Just like that, baby. Feels so good… Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop—”

He reaches up, guiding you up and down, the wet clap of skin getting louder with his added muscle.

You lean back slightly, hands braced on his strong thighs as he fills you over and over again. His praises pour from his lips between gritted teeth. “God, look at this view,” he groans.

You feel your orgasm building, sharp and fast, the pressure coiling in your stomach, and he feels it, too. Rafe sits up, wrapping his arm tight around your waist, the other twisting in your hair again as your body trembles uncontrollably. You gasp, swiveling your hips, grinding down as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, breathing heavy.

“Cum for me, baby. Let go. Show me how perfect you are, huh? Show me what I’ve been missin’.”

Your whole body clenches, back arching as you cry out, pulsing hard around him, your orgasm triggering his own. He growls your name, hips jerking as he buries himself deep, cumming hard, holding you so close.

He lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, pulling back just enough to find your lips for a tender kiss. “You’re amazing,” he breathes. “So good to me. You know that?” He whispers as his hands hold your cheeks, forehead resting against yours. “So perfect for me.”

You nod, still dazed, lips brushing his. “You’re perfect for me too.”

He grins, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he pulls you closer, his voice a husky whisper against your lips. “Nothin’ like coming home to you.”

tags | @rafesthroatbaby | @matthewssweetheart | @slut-4-rafey | @blair-bears-blog | @iikximii | @akobx | @gri959 | @misatxox | @ch4rrykisses | @st8rkey | @laniirackssss | @barnesboo1967 | @justdamnpeachy | @dylsdaily | @rafesapprentice | @rafesheaven | @my-name-is-baby | @wtfisastiles | @skye-44 @romaescapes | @anothershorthuman | @rafeslovergirly | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @v3n1ce-bxtch | @maybankslover | @theater-bitch | @frankoceanluvr11 | @rcameronlova1 | @lhhlver | @yourmomdotcom42069 | @cameronsprincess | @kdoll-7 | @angelicameron | @imsiriuslyreal | @alphabetically-deranged | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @hyperfixationgirl | @faephoria | @wtfdudesblog | @rafesdoll | @yasmin-oviedo | @lizzysmith110 | @ietss | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @lilithblackkk | @premiumshitt | @littlelamy | @dulcescorderitas | @prettybabyyyy | @star017 | @hannieskzzz | @biascriptum

[speed1323]

Sorry officer

Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Summary : You were speeding down the high way and got pulled over but a hot cop who gives you an ultimatum. A ticket or let her fuck you.

Warning : Natasha has a penis, Oral (N receives), hand job slightly, degrading, praises, breeding kink (ALOT), inspection kink slightly.

Your speed went from 40 to 50 to 60 and then to 70. You sped through in-between cars which was dangerous - reckless - but you didn't care. You were trying to blow off some steam that you had from last night, your girlfriend didn't want to fuck you so you were left high and dry.

You saw flashing lights behind you along with sirens, you slowed down your car and pulled to the side of the road when it got safe. You stopped your car and placed your hands onto the steering wheel. You watched in the mirror as a blonde women gets out of the car, her hips sway with every step and her hands holding onto her belt as well.

She placed her hand on the back of your car and you scoffed, She knocked on the window and pointed down so you rolled your window down, "Do you know why I pulled you over?" She asked, her Russian accent coming through easily.

Her gaze made your knees weak, you were thankful for being sat down, You shook your head, "Sorry officer, I don't." You told her, she nodded.

"License and registration please." You nodded and opened the glove compartment to grab your registration. You handed it to her and she frowned, "License?"

You placed your hands back onto the wheel, "I don't have to give you that." You stated, She just smirked and walked back to her car with the piece of paper in her hand.

You smiled to yourself as she opened her car door for a moment and then walked back over to you, She sighed and started to write something on her notepad, "I'm gonna let you off with a ticket." She ripped the paper and handed it to you but you looked her up and down.

"Now officer, I think we can come to an understanding?" You asked, She clenched her jaw and looked at you.

She placed the pad into her coat pocket and her hands rested on the door where the window would go, her hands were veiny and much larger than yours. "I'll let you off, If you let me fuck you." You bit your lip and stepped out of your car to stand Infront of her.

"Never done it with a cop." She nodded and used her body to trap you between your car and her. She was much taller than you, she had to at least be 5'10 or close to 6'0 with the way she looked down at you and stood over you.

She pulled you in for a rough kiss, she tasted your cherry lip balm that was on your lips and she flushed her body flat against yours. Her knee found its way between your thighs and up to your core. A whimper escaped your mouth which encouraged her to flex the muscles hidden by her pants.

You slightly moved her hips to gain some release but her strong hands held your hips still. she smirked and moved one of her hands up your body, over your boob but giving it a little squeeze before tightening around your throat, "Fucking mutt." She spat out, you moaned at her words and she just smiled.

"You gonna fuck me or keep talking?" You asked, she took a deep breath in.

She forced you to your knees by her strong grip and your knees hit the hard and cold floor, it only bothered you for a slight minute before you noticed her growing bulge in her pants. "Don't be shy." She said, she took off her utility belt which had a gun in it and placed it onto the seat in your car.

you unbuckled her belt easily, along with pulling the zipper down and shuffling her pants down to her mid thigh along with her boxers. You quickly wrapped your hand around the base of her dick, You slowly started to pump her dick with your hand. You watched as she threw her head back and bit her lower lip to stop her from moaning. "Haven't been touched in a while?" You asked, she shook her head. "No girlfriend?" She just smirked.

"I have a girlfriend, she's just stubborn."

You nodded, "My girlfriend doesn't wanna fuck me." She clenched her jaw and as you wrapped your lips around her tip she thrusted her length down your throat making you gag. Her hands found the back of your head and she held you there while she thrusted her dick down your throat.

She was using your mouth as a fuck toy but it made you so aroused by it, you didn't know it but you liked her being rough with you. She groaned and her grip got tighter around your hair, "Fuck baby." Her other hand was placed onto the roof of your car to stabilize her. You drove a jeep so you were surprised she could do that.

You felt her twitch inside your mouth so you knew she was close, you followed her movement and sucked her dick which made her moan loudly and cum inside your mouth. She pulled out but you kept her in your mouth to drain every last drop she had.

You let her go with a pop and used your index finger to clean up the cum that had dripped onto your chin, you sucked her finger cleaned and she stood you up with her strong arms only to bend you over your car seat so your ass was free to her.

Her fingers ran between your thighs, you whimpered at her touch and tried to follow her fingers but it was useless. She pulled your pants down and off. Her hand came in contact with your ass, she squeezed it before humming. "God your so wet." Normally you would be embarrassed for being so wet without being touched but she didn't give you that opportunity to even think before her fingers ran over your clothed pussy.

"This all for me?" She asked, "Your such a pathetic girl." Her words were supposed to make you feel small but all it did was make you even more wet, you couldn't see her but you could feel her gaze on you. She was hungry for you, you were hungry to be fucked.

She pulled your panties down and off your legs, which you had to lift your feet up for her to take them, She put them into her pocket and you already knew you weren't getting them back. There was no warning, she just lined herself up with your entrance and thrusted her hips forward.

You let out a loud whimper at her size, she didn't give you any time to get use to her before she started her brutal assault on your cunt. "Fuck." She moaned, "Take me so fucking good." Her thrusts got faster and the only thing you could hear was the clapping of your skin and cars driving past.

Her dick kept hitting that part inside you with ease, you threw your head back. Her grip on your hips left red marks that you didn't care about aswell as the marks on your ass from her hands. All you wanted was to cum around her, to finally have release. "Gon' fill you up so good." She muttered, "Get you pregnant." Her breathing became uneven and her thrusts began to get sloppy, "f-fuck."

"Cum in me, please." You whimpered, she moaned as her cock twitched inside you, You felt her cum inside you which triggered your orgasm. Your body tensed up and spasmed, she bent down and kissed your neck softly.

You whimpered as she pulled out of you, her cum spilling out slightly which made her smile, "You okay?" She asked, you heard her buckle up her belt and she picked up her utility belt from beside you. You nodded.

You felt her kiss your thigh softly before slipping your pants back onto your body and up your legs, she lifted you up and turned you around to see you. She made sure your pants were on and secure before pulling you in for a soft meaningful kiss.

"I'm off in an hour if you wanna get some food?" She asked, you nodded and pulled her back in for a kiss. She smiled and her thumb caressed your check, "Okay, I love you."

You smiled at your girlfriend, "I love you too." She made sure you were in your car and safe before waving bye to you, you drove off and she walked back to her car with a big smile on her face.

[luvyeni]

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──────── mark can’t stand jeno talking to you or even being around you…

( 対 ) mark lee + fem. reader wc. 0.8k genre smut· contains! mature content. / back to library

watching you basically drool over jeno mark could only feel one thing — he wanted to kill him. he wanted to kill him because how dare he make you laugh like that? flex his muscles and flaunt , mark was pissed. “could you not look at jeno like you want to rip his head off for talking to her.”

he scoffed. “talking to her? he’s practically ready fuck her right then and there.” haechan rolled his eyes at his friend. “aren’t you the one who says he doesn’t want a relationship? this is your fault.” he tapped the boy's shoulders walking away. the boy was right, and maybe that’s was his problem , but now as he watches jeno put his arm around your shoulder — he can only feel one emotion : anger.

“you wanna get out of here?” jeno whispers in your ear. “or are you only here to make a certain person upset?” you smirked. “what to do you want?” his eyes trace your body and he groans. “as much as i want to take you out of here , your current problem is currently on his way over here , and im gonna walk away so i don’t get into a fight with one of my best friends.” he gave you a kiss to the temples just to piss mark off even more before walking away.

you can feel him walking up behind you and before you could even turn around, he was dragging you away. “mark.” you say , but he just turns to you. “shut up.” he drags you to a nearby room , closing the door.

“you love fucking with me don’t you?” pushing you against the door. “what did i do?” you pout innocently. “keep playing games yn.” his hand coming up to your cheeks to squeeze your cheeks. “it won’t end well for you.”

that shut you right there; he smirked , letting your face go. “on your knees.” you drop immediately down. “look at you , ready for anything i give you even if you were just ready to ride jeno in fucking public.” he unbuckled his belt , pushing his pants down to his ankles. “fucking slut.” pulling his cock out from his shorts , his mushroom tip dripping with pre-cum as he slapped it on your lips. “open your mouth.”

he pushed his cock into your mouth with a groan. “ah fuck!” he hissed , holding the back of your head as he began to rut into your mouth; his cock hitting the back of your throat , making you gag. “mmh fuck.” he grabbed the wall to hold himself off. “such a tight throat , gonna fucking cum.” he used your mouth to get himself off , holding the back of your head , pushing it down. “fuck!” he cursed as his cock twitched as he shot ropes of cum down your throat. “swallow it, swallow my fucking cum.”

pushing you on the bed, your skirt rolling up to your stomach. “look at how wet you fucking are.” he cupped your clothed cunt. “is this for me , or for him?” you whimpered, desperate for his touch. “answer me.” he slapped your cunt , you shouted. “you!” he pulled your thong to the side , the tip of his cock against your hole. “that’s right.” he pushed himself inside you. “fuck you’re so wet.”

he gripped your waist , pounding into you. “you’re fucking mine.” he growled , hand wrapping around your throat. “understand? he can’t fuck you like i can.” pressing down on your lower belly , a pornographic moan emitting from your throat. “he can’t make you cum like me.” your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “such a whore for my dick , you gonna cum?” you nodded. “who said that you can? hmm? i wanna hear you beg.” he began to slow down , making sure you could feel all of him. “fucking beg.”

“mark please , pl-please let me cum.” his named flowed out your mouth like a mantra; over and over. “please.” he held your legs , pushing them against your chest as he went as deep as he could , your eyesight going white as he whispered into your ear. “cum for me.”

and that’s all you needed before you we’re gripping the sheet , letting out a scream as you came. “ah shit!” he pulled out , tugging at his cock , cumming all over your stomach. “fuck.” he sighed; riding out his own high , tapping the tip of his cock on your sensitive bud. “mine.”

you could barely remember the party the next day ; only the part of the night where after the party mark took you back to his place pulling three more orgasms out of you before allowing you to finally rest next to your , rubbing your stomach. “you’re my girl okay?” he kissed your temple.

“i wanna be the only man ever on your mind.”

©️LUVYENI

[steinfellds]

office brat

pairing: wandanat x afab!reader

summary: you piss natasha off and she calls wanda into her office to deal with you.

content: brat taming, dom!wandanat, small mommy kink, strap on (r receiving), finger sucking, voyeurism, orgasm denial, pussy eating (n receiving), degradation.

When Natasha's pen scratching faltered for the fifth time, and she took an irritated breath, you knew you were getting closer to getting what you wanted. Her patience was running thin.

"Sit fucking still," she growled, slamming her pen and turning her chair to face you.

You huffed. You begged to come to the office with Natasha, expecting her to fuck you on her desk until you couldn't take it anymore, but no, she stripped you naked and forced you to kneel next to her, telling to be quiet and still until she finished.

"I'm bored," You whined, reaching out for Natasha's leg but she slapped you away.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. If Natasha were a cartoon character, steam would be coming from her ears. She grabbed her office phone, punching in some numbers on the keypad, and held it to her ear. The line rang for a few seconds before being answered.

"My office. Now."

You frowned and started to rise, but Natasha forced you back down. That was weird. Natasha never lets anyone see you naked. She always said that your body is for her eyes only.

The door clicked open, and you nearly jumped up in excitement. Wanda Maximoff, Natasha's business partner, walked in, shooting you a cheeky grin before stopping in front of Natasha's desk.

"You could use your manners next time." Wanda remarked.

"Don't start." Natasha scoffed. "They've been pissing me off the entire day. Just deal with them."

Wanda hummed, sitting down on the couch and beckoning you over. You crawled over, pulling yourself onto her lap, and basically vibrating with excitement. It's been weeks since you last saw Wanda. You missed her.

She traced your lips with her thumb. "Been bad, huh?"

You pouted, pushing your face into Wanda's neck and grinding into her lap. Like always, she was packing. Wanda unzipped her pants and pulled her strap out, slapping it against your cunt. You sank down on it with ease, groaning at the stretch.

Wanda slipped two fingers inside your mouth. "Gotta stay quiet,"

Her fingers rest heavy on your tongue. You licked at the pads of her fingers and sucked lightly. She kept a bruising grip on your hip and slammed you down repeatedly. You swore she was about to split you in half.

Just as you were about to tip over the pleasurable edge, Natasha had to ruin it. "Stop,"

Wanda stilled your hips, keeping you snug against her. You cried out, softly slamming your fists against her shoulder. Wanda's face dropped, and she grabbed your wrists in an iron grip.

"You do not hit me," she hissed. "Do you understand me? You do not fucking hit me."

Your heart dropped. Angering Wanda was only a mistake an idiot would make. You mumbled an apology around her fingers.

"You're managing to piss off everyone today, aren't you?" Natasha threaded her fingers through your hair and yanked it.

You swallowed back a bratty response.

"I don't even think they deserve an orgasm," Wanda said.

Your cries of protest fell on deaf ears. You were forced to kneel at Wanda's feet and watch. Natasha took your place, sinking down on Wanda's strap, covered in your slick. Wanda pulled her into a messy kiss, muffling her moans and fueling your frustration.

"Please!" you begged.

They ignored you. Natasha was close, and you wished so badly that you could see her face as she came. It wasn't fair.

"You gonna cum for mommy?" Wanda asked with a shit-eating grin.

Natasha's laugh was cut off by a moan. Her head lulled forward and her body shook as her orgasm washed over her. Wanda continued to pump into her until Natasha pulled herself to sit next to Wanda.

She spread her legs and you eagerly sat between them, your eyes trained to her glistering cunt. She pulled your face into her, and your frustration was washed away. You licked and suckled on her clit until her back arched and a silent moan left her throat. Your eyes didn't leave her face for a second.

"Not that hard to be good, huh?" Natasha shuddered as you cleaned her.

You shrugged, "I got what I wanted in the end."

"Brat."

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

I know it’s not much but can I request Dr. Jack Abbot calling his younger girlfriend reader a “good girl” at work please!!

Good Girl

main masterlist | the pitt masterlist

pairing: dr. jack abbott x female reader

rating: PG-13

word count: 0.8k

warnings: age gap in relationship

pairing note: reader is in her mid to late twenties

author’s note: thank u for the request anon! this had me giggling like a fool i love jack sm

“Intubating,” you said as you began to do so. “Done.”

“Good girl,” Jack said without thinking.

The whole ER seemed to freeze as you looked over at Abbott. You gulped nervously before you darted your eyes over to Robby, who seemed stunned.

“Are you two…” Robby furrowed his brows, looking back and forth between you and Abbott. “...Never mind.”

“Good job, Dr. Y/l/n.” Abbott cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Thank you, Dr. Abbott,” you replied quietly, not daring to look at him.

**

It was finally time for you to go home, although your boyfriend was only three hours into his shift. You two had a quick second alone where he apologized for his earlier behavior, but you brushed it off and opted to kiss him quickly in response.

On your way to your car, Robby stopped you.

“About what Abbott said earlier–”

“Robby, it’s fine,” you laughed him off. “I’m not gonna report him to HR anytime soon.”

“I was gonna say… I know.”

“You…know?” You furrowed your brows. “Know what?”

“I know you and Abbott are… a thing.”

You furrowed your brows deeper as you chuckled, “A thing?”

“I finally put the pieces together, and I’ve gotta admit you two were pretty good at being discreet. How long has it been going on?”

You sighed. You had a good rapport with Robby, and you trusted him deeply. And yet, you still wanted to keep what you and Abbott had together with just the two of you. On the other hand, Robby was a good man, and you knew Abbott trusted him, too.

“Four months,” you admitted. Robby’s eyebrows shot up, followed by a beat of silence. “Sorry for not telling you earlier,” you mumbled.

“I get it.” Robby shook his head. “But I’ve gotta say, in the last few months I’ve never seen Jack happier.”

“Really?” The blood in your face rushed to your cheeks as a sheepish smile formed on your lips. You hadn’t known Jack as long as Robby had; you had met him a year ago when you first started working at the hospital.

He nodded, “Makes so much more sense now that I’ve put two and two together.”

“So… we aren’t in trouble?”

“Of course not,” Robby chuckled. “I’m happy for you two, really. I think its about damn time Jack finds someone who makes him smile like a fool.”

That made you smile even wider as you fought the giggle wanting to escape your lips.

“Well, I’ve gotta head out, you get home safe, alright?”

“You too,” you said as he turned to walk away.

You waved goodbye to Robby before you hopped into your car. Sitting behind the wheel, you pondered the conversation you just had. You put your hands on the wheel and checked yourself in the rearview mirror, finally letting out that giggle.

“Robby knows,” you whispered to yourself. “Robby knows…” Panic was starting to settle in. “Shit.”

You got out of your car, locked it, and went back to The Pitt to find Abbott. He was busy, but never too busy for you (as he’d always say).

“What’s up?” he asked the second you two were alone.

“Robby knows,” you told him.

“Knows… like knows?” he asked, and you nodded. “Okay… how?”

“I dunno, he just stopped me in the parking lot to tell me he knows,” you said, clearly freaking out.

“Well, that’s okay, it’s just Robby,” he said, wanting to make you feel better. “He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

You looked up at him as he put his hands on your hips to comfort you, your arms crossed in front of you. 

“Are you sure?” you asked him.

“Positive.” He put a finger under your chin to keep your head tilted so he could kiss you. “This is still just us,” he whispered. 

The curtain flung open, revealing Dr. Ellis, whose mouth flew open when she saw you two.

“I am so sorry!” she exclaimed.

You and Abbott scurried apart, but it was far too late; the few people who did see you were sure to gossip about it, and it was only a matter of time before everyone was talking about the two of you.

“Screw it,” Abbott mumbled before addressing the people starring. “Yes, Y/n and I are dating. Get back to work.” Everyone stood there, still in shock. “Now.”

“So… that’s gonna be a problem,” you said once everyone was back to whatever they were doing before. 

“Eh, nothing we can’t handle.” Abbott shrugged. “Now, give me a kiss before we head back out there,” he said, and you smiled before you did so. “Good girl.”

[adoresia]

ILLECEBROUS ⋆ Nagi Seishiro

(adj.) alluring, attractive, enticing, suggestive

NAGI still struggles to wrap his head around the concept of living; so much so, that he still wonders why we think its necessary to feed ourselves. Maybe not in the way that food keeps us alive — but when the sapid taste of cherry still lingers, sincerely from your lips to his? What else could he possibly be hungry for? Esuriently chasing the taste of that cherry lip oil, sitting on your lips so seductively — so delicately, like something sweet he was never meant to have, but keeps starving for anyway.

“It’s gone… put more.” He suddenly pulls away from your face with eagerness — eyes locked on yours like they held the answer to something he couldn’t name. “Huh?” you raised a brow, confused by the sudden loss of contact. “More what?” you answered; one hand still holding his jaw while your thumb hovered tenderly over his cheek and the other placed neatly on his shoulder. The tension lingers. A frisson trailing down your spine every time your gaze flickered from one of his eyes to the other. “The red thing.” His voice was low and almost breathless; like he’s asking for more than just lip oil. Like he’s asking for another taste of living. “The stuff. You know, the cherry…”

You can’t help but laugh, finding it almost endearing how lost he looks. “You’re not meant to eat it you know.” you tease — amused. “If you keep licking it off you’ll probably get sick.” He barely registers your words, already leaning in closer. Desperation clear as day, and not a single thought behind those eyes. “Don’t care. Want more.” He pauses, his voice barely above a whisper. “It tastes… good.” You giggle and shaking your head, how could you not to find him too cute. He’s completely fixated on the lip oil now. “You’re addicted huh?” You can’t help but laugh a little. “I’m not addicted…” He says, tone seriously. As if he was trying to convince himself more than you. He leans forward — mouth slightly agape. Giving you the cutest most impatient stare.

You roll your eyes but the soft smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “Only once though okay? Dior lip oil is too expensive to be licking off every second. Even if it’s you.” He tilts his head, as if to process what you’ve said. “Dior…? Mmm. Worth it.” You can’t help but laugh again, while reaching out for the little bottle on your bed side table. “see look” you say, unscrewing the cap, the scent of cherry filling the air as you dab a little more on your lips.

He watches with rapt attention, and then without missing a beat, he leans in the moment you finish. He presses his lips to yours — slow and deliberate, as if he’s savoring every single second of it. The kiss is languid, but it carries that same sense of urgency from before, like he’s trying to capture the last bit of the sweetness before it’s gone. His mouth moves against yours with almost a reverence. Like he’s trying to hold onto the taste for as long as he can.

And when you finally pull back, he stays close. His lips barely apart and his eyes were still closed in that blissed out way. “Mmm… better than food” he murmurs.“An I gonna have to put lip oil in your food now?” You tease. His eyes flicker open, still half-lidded and a dazed expression. “Maybe.” He shrugs lazily — as if it’s the most reasonable suggestion in the world. “Wouldn’t mind.” You shake your head, laughing at how ridiculous he is. And he looks at you with that same almost lazy affection. His gaze says everything; he could live on this moment forever if you let him.

SIA HERE ! : was so close to naming this ‘dior dior, flex!’ but i didn’t let the intrusive thoughts win </3 okay goodnight guys before liv shoots me in the face 57 times 😊 (its nearing 6am im so sane im so sane im so sane im so sane im so sane im so sane)

[sturnsblogs]

WERE REALLY DOING THIS.

Teacher!Matt X Milf!Reader

—

Matt had shut the bathroom door behind you gently—soft like he was afraid to startle you, like the moment was fragile. Fifteen minutes earlier, he’d grabbed the car keys with nothing but a kiss to your forehead and a quiet “stay right here.” Now he was back.

With a pharmacy bag.

And not one, not two—but three pregnancy tests.

“Just to be sure,” he said, with that crooked little smile he always gave you when he was trying not to let nerves show. “You don’t have to take them all. But, you know, backup. And… backup for the backup.”

He kissed your temple again before you disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a shaky breath. The air felt heavy with possibility. You sat on the toilet, staring at the stick in your hands. Your fingers shook slightly.

In the hallway, Matt waited.

You could hear the gentle creak of the floorboards as he shifted from foot to foot. Then his voice, soft and low, floated through the door.

“I want this baby,” he said, like it was a fact—not a question. Not something to be weighed or feared. “If you are, hm? I want this. I want you. All of it.”

You felt your chest tighten, eyes stinging.

“I love you,” he continued. “I love Eliana. And if you’re pregnant… then I love the baby, too. Already.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, a tiny sob catching in your throat. You stared down at the little window on the test, willing the lines not to show… or maybe begging them to.

And then, just like that, they appeared.

Two solid pink lines.

Positive.

“Matt…” you called out, breathless.

The door swung open slowly, and there he was. In his sweats and hoodie, barefoot, with his eyes glued to your face.

You held the test up with trembling hands. He didn’t even need to look at it—your teary smile said it all.

He stepped forward and wrapped you up, arms tight around your waist, face buried in your neck. “Oh my god,” he whispered, laughing against your skin. “You’re pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

And just as he pulled back to kiss you—

The pitter-patter of tiny feet came running down the hallway.

“Eliana!” Matt called quickly, straightening up. “What did we say about knocking, baby?”

She looked up at the two of you with wide, curious eyes, clutching her little stuffed bunny. “Why’s Mommy crying?”

You knelt down to her level and pulled her close, brushing her hair behind her ears. “Because Mommy’s happy, baby.”

Matt crouched down beside you, resting his hand on her back. “We have something really special to tell you,” he said softly.

Eliana blinked. “What?”

“You’re gonna be a big sister,” you said gently. “There’s a baby growing in Mommy’s tummy.”

Her eyes went huge, jaw dropping in that dramatic way only a five-year-old can pull off. She gasped. “Really?!”

You nodded, and Matt chuckled when she looked between the two of you, eyes narrowing.

“That’s why Mommy was getting bigger!” she blurted, pointing at your stomach with her bunny’s ear. “I knew it!”

You and Matt both laughed, teary and overwhelmed, and he scooped her up into his arms.

“Are you excited?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She nodded so hard her curls bounced. “I’m gonna be the best sister. And I’m gonna teach the baby how to walk. And eat snacks. And play with Barbies!”

Matt grinned at you over her shoulder, mouthing, we’re really doing this.

And all you could do was nod, tears still shining in your eyes, hand resting over your stomach.

You were really doing this.

Your family—your real family—was growing.

—

A/N- I love them ): PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REQUEST THINGS FOR THEM.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset-deactivate @lezleeferguson-120 0 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @sturnns-world @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn