#This job is a bit lazy in detail

[ask-yuki-n-centi]

it is worth noting that these drawings do not relate to the timeline of the blog (but they will most likely be here in the future)

[cbeargyu]

Hiii if reqs are still open can I ask for a coworker Doyoung finding out you're an onlyfans model....😭✋♥️

miss erotica

summary: you and doyoung are coworkers who maintain a strictly professional relationship… until he accidentally discovers your secret life as a lingerie model on onlyfans. tension builds, desires unravel, and when the truth finally comes out, you make him a filthy little offer he can't refuse.

pairing: coworker ! doyoung x coworker (of model) fem! reader

genre: smut, coworkers to lovers, slow burn tension, light dom!doyoung, lingerie kink, secret double life reveal.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, lingerie modeling, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral fixation (male receiving implied), cumshot on stomach/lace lingerie, cumshot on face (briefly mentioned), possessive behavior, light praise/degradation, slight overstimulation, photo taken for onlyfans post, doyoung jerking off alone at the end

wc: 3,6k

notes: omg, incredible request anon, i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for your requests, remember that they’re open, though it might take me some time to get to them due to my schedule🩷

working with doyoung had always been... easy. despite your desks being placed directly in front of each other, just a breath apart, the relationship stayed strictly professional. you weren't sure if it was because he was a workaholic who barely lifted his head from the screen, or if it was simply the nature of two people who lived parallel lives — polite, distant, untouched by anything messy or personal.

you knew the basics. he was single, lived alone, probably married to his job. you weren’t that different either — renting a cozy little apartment not far from the office, sharing your space with your two cats: milo, a silver tabby with a mischievous glint in his eye, and luna, a cream-colored ragdoll with lazy, half-lidded stares. you had exchanged bits of your life over small talk, shallow conversations at best. never more. never deeper.

what you didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that doyoung had a secret obsession — paying for content on onlyfans. not just any content. he was a loyal subscriber to a certain "miss erotica", a woman who never showed her face but showcased her body in ways that blurred the lines between art and temptation. he didn’t tell anyone. how could he? it was his private addiction, the one thing he allowed himself outside the endless deadlines and excel sheets.

then, one morning during a rare group breakfast at the office, the conversation drifted to pets. casual, harmless. you, smiling, pulled out your phone and showed a picture of your cats lounging by your living room window. milo, sprawled like a king, his silver fur shining under the sun; luna, tucked next to him, her cream coat like a spilled glass of milk against the dark wood floor.

"they're beautiful," someone cooed.

doyoung looked at the screen. and froze.

something pricked at the back of his mind. the silver tabby with the green collar... luna's cream fur... it looked familiar. almost too familiar.

he had seen them before.

but not here.

his heart stuttered, his throat going dry. he stayed silent, watching as you scrolled through more pictures, laughing, showing off your babies to the group. you didn't notice the way his eyes stayed glued to your screen, how his mind reeled.

because in one of miss erotica's most memorable posts — a shot of her ass in black lace panties, arching perfectly against a leather chair — there had been a cat in the background. a silver tabby. with the exact same green collar. and another fluff of cream lazing by a window.

doyoung’s stomach twisted.

no, it couldn't be.

he hadn't saved the picture. it had been months ago. it could be a coincidence. right?

he spent the rest of the day distracted, replaying the image in his mind, trying to grasp at details, trying to reason with himself. people had cats. cats could look similar. it didn’t have to be you.

and he almost let it go.

almost.

until summer came.

you traded your usual long-sleeved blouses for casual short-sleeve shirts, your skin kissed golden by the sun, the curve of your arm now exposed to his line of sight. that day, when you leaned across the desk to pass him a file, the hem of your sleeve rode up. doyoung’s eyes — traitorous, hungry — caught something.

a tattoo.

small, delicate.

a slender vine of wildflowers, curling around the back of your arm, the ink fine and dark against your skin.

he stared.

he knew that tattoo.

he had spent hours tracing it with his eyes on his screen, had memorized the way the petals twisted, the slight flaw in one of the leaves. miss erotica had that same tattoo. he had noticed it countless times while she modeled those sinful sets of lingerie — crimson silk, ivory lace, black leather.

doyoung’s heart slammed against his ribs. it wasn’t just a theory anymore. it was you.

he looked up slowly, meeting your eyes across the desk. you gave him a small, polite smile, unaware of the war raging inside him.

he swallowed thickly, his hands curling into fists under the desk.

fuck.

you were miss erotica.

and now, he couldn't unsee it. couldn't pretend he didn't know. every time you bent over slightly to pick up a file, every time you tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, every time you laughed low and sweet — it all layered itself with the filthy, burning images he'd paid to see at 2 a.m.

it was you.

doyoung hadn’t just stumbled across your profile. he had been looking for something — something specific, something that scratched a very particular itch deep inside him. lingerie. but not just anyone posing in cheap lace or overexposed shots. he liked the slow burn, the tease, the art of it. miss erotica was perfect. you had perfected it.

your content wasn’t explicit in the obvious sense. no faces, no messy, desperate angles. it was the suggestion of sin, the elegance of a body wrapped in silken temptation. intricate corsets, delicate garter belts, sheer stockings stretched over soft skin. sometimes, he thought the way you positioned your hands was even sexier than nudity — subtle, knowing. you wore lace like it was a second skin, posed in ways that made his mind work, made him imagine peeling each layer off inch by inch.

he had a thing for thigh-high stockings. for black lace that hugged curves and hinted at forbidden places. and miss erotica — you — had a way of making every single photo feel personal. like you were posing just for him.

he had spent too many nights gripping the sheets in frustration, whispering your name under his breath, not even realizing it. miss erotica. miss erotica. it was stupid how deep it went.

and now...

you were sitting across from him at your shared desks, tapping away on your keyboard, completely unaware that the woman who had made him lose sleep, made him ache with need, was breathing the same office air as him.

it felt wrong.

it felt so good.

he was drowning in it.

the realization clung to him like static electricity. he watched the way your fingers danced across the keys, slender and sure, the same fingers he had imagined curled in the waistband of delicate panties. he watched the way you tilted your head slightly when you read something intently, exposing the soft line of your throat, the same throat he had dreamed of marking.

he couldn't focus.

he couldn’t fucking breathe.

you had no idea.

the days after the realization were torture.

doyoung tried to act normal — professional, polite, like he hadn't spent half the night with your photos burned into his eyelids. but it was impossible. now he noticed everything. the slight sway of your hips when you walked past his desk. the way your fingers sometimes absentmindedly played with the hem of your blouse. the shape of your mouth when you sipped your coffee. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fucking fair.

he needed a release. he needed you.

so one evening, as you both packed up your things, the office mostly deserted except for a few lingering coworkers, he cleared his throat and said casually, "hey, y/n... you doing anything tonight?"

you looked up, a little surprised — it was rare for doyoung to initiate anything that wasn’t strictly about work. "not really," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "why?"

he shrugged, forcing nonchalance. "thought maybe we could grab a drink. just... you know, decompress a bit. long week."

you smiled — a soft, genuine smile he didn’t usually get to see — and nodded. "yeah, sure. that sounds nice."

it was a simple moment.

ordinary.

but his pulse hammered against his ribs like he had just won something forbidden.

the bar he picked wasn’t far from the office. dimly lit, cozy, tucked away enough that no one from work would accidentally stumble in. he watched you under the low lights, the way you peeled off your jacket, revealing more of your arms — more of that tattoo — and he felt his mouth go dry.

you ordered something sweet. he ordered something strong.

conversation started off light. movies, weekend plans, the weather.

but as the drinks flowed, the distance between you seemed to shrink. your laughter got a little looser. your glances lingered a little longer. he leaned in, elbows brushing yours on the tiny table, and he could smell the soft, clean scent of your shampoo. he could imagine burying his face in it, breathing you in as he pressed your body against his.

"so," he said after a pause, voice a little rougher now, "you live alone, right?"

you nodded, swirling the ice in your glass. "yeah. just me and my two little troublemakers."

"the cats," he said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"mhm." you tilted your head, curious. "you remembered?"

he chuckled lowly. "hard to forget."

especially when those cats had haunted his fucking dreams alongside your lace-clad body.

you leaned in a little closer without realizing it, your knee brushing his under the table.

doyoung’s hand twitched, desperate to touch, desperate to confirm that you were real, that you were here, that he wasn’t losing his goddamn mind.

"you ever feel like people don’t really know you?" you said suddenly, voice soft, almost vulnerable. "like... you have this whole side of you no one even sees?"

you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

or maybe you did.

he set his glass down, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"i think," he said slowly, voice dropping, "some sides are meant for only a few lucky ones to see."

the air between you crackled, thick and heavy.

you swallowed hard, heart beating too fast.

you hadn’t realized how close you had leaned in. how close he was.

or maybe you had.

the space between you buzzed like an invisible wire pulled too tight. every time you shifted, his eyes flickered down, tracing the subtle lines of your body. you were painfully aware of it — of him — of the way his fingers curled against the edge of his glass, the way his jaw tensed whenever your knees brushed under the table.

you sipped your drink slowly, tongue darting out to catch a drop at the corner of your mouth. his gaze followed the movement like a man starved. you could practically feel the heat rolling off his body in thick, stifling waves.

the conversation faltered. it didn’t need words anymore. everything was felt.

"y/n," he said finally, voice low, rough around the edges.

you looked up, heart skipping.

there was something dangerous in his eyes. something that told you he wasn’t going to play pretend anymore.

"those cats of yours," he started, almost casually. "i swear i’ve seen them somewhere else before."

you smiled, slow, almost coy. "yeah?"

he leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek. you could smell the bourbon on him, feel the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

"yeah," he murmured. "in a... very specific place."

a pause. a deliberate, loaded silence.

you set your glass down carefully, the ice clinking sharp in the quiet. "where, doyoung?" you asked, voice sweet, teasing. but your heart was hammering against your ribs, adrenaline and arousal twining together into something electric.

he watched you, pupils blown wide, fingers flexing like he was holding himself back from reaching across the table and dragging you into him.

"onlyfans," he said finally. barely a whisper. a confession.

the word hung between you, scandalous and heavy.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look away.

instead, you tilted your head, a slow, sinful smile curling your lips.

"miss erotica," he said, the name coming out like a prayer he had whispered a hundred times in the dark.

you leaned in, so close your knees were fully pressed together now under the table.

your voice dropped to a purr.

"so," you breathed, "you’re a fan of lingerie, huh?"

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, y/n... more than a fan."

the confession hung in the air like smoke, sweet and thick.

you let the moment stretch, savoring the way his body tensed, the way he shifted like he was seconds away from snapping.

"lace?" you murmured. "stockings? garters?"

he nodded, unable to look away from you, like you were the center of his whole fucking universe.

"all of it," he said, voice almost breaking. "i... i can’t get enough."

you licked your lips slowly, leaning back just a little to give him a view of the curve of your body under your blouse. teasing. tempting.

his fingers twitched like he was holding onto the last shred of his self-control.

"poor thing," you whispered. "must be hard, wanting something so bad and not being able to touch it."

his hands fisted in his lap, knuckles white.

"y/n," he warned, voice wrecked, pleading.

you smiled, wicked and soft all at once.

you leaned closer, so your mouth was right by his ear, your breath warm against his skin.

"what if," you whispered, so quietly it was almost obscene, "i modeled for you?"

he sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body shuddering like he’d been struck.

you pulled back just enough to see his face — the desperation there, the hunger, the need.

"real life," you said, your fingers ghosting along the hem of your skirt under the table, just enough for him to catch the motion. "no screens. no distance."

he was trembling. you were trembling.

the world outside the little cocoon of the bar didn’t exist anymore.

there was only this — the heavy beat of your hearts, the unbearable pull between you, the promise of something dirty and sweet hanging in the air.

"you’d model for me," he said, disbelieving, wrecked.

"if you’re a good boy," you teased, wicked and tender all at once.

he let out a low, broken noise, half-growl, half-whimper, and you knew — you knew — that tonight was going to change everything.

you barely made it through the door before he was on you.

doyoung kicked the door shut behind him, hands everywhere, breath hot against your skin as he pressed you against the wall.

"fuck," he muttered against your neck, voice low and trembling with restraint. "you drive me insane."

you laughed softly, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

"patience," you whispered. "you still want me to model for you, don't you?"

he pulled back, eyes dark and wild, chest heaving.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, yeah. show me, baby. show me everything."

you slipped out from under him, sauntering toward your bedroom with a slow sway of your hips, feeling his gaze burning into you.

you could hear him curse under his breath, could hear the faint clink of his belt as he adjusted himself, trying to keep it together.

you left the door slightly ajar, just enough for him to peek in as you changed.

slowly, languidly, you stripped down, sliding the soft fabric of your blouse over your head, shimmying your skirt down your thighs.

you chose one of your best sets — a delicate black lace bralette and matching thong, the garter belt hugging your hips, sheer thigh-high stockings clipping into place with a soft click.

you posed in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting the straps, making sure everything sat just right, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

"come in," you called sweetly.

the door creaked open and there he was, standing there, jaw clenched, eyes practically black.

his hands fisted at his sides like he was seconds from losing every ounce of control.

you turned slowly, letting him take you in — the curve of your ass in the sheer lace, the tight lines of the garter straps, the soft swell of your breasts barely contained by the delicate fabric.

"holy fuck," he breathed, voice wrecked. "you're gonna kill me."

you sauntered up to him, slow and deliberate, your fingers trailing up his chest, feeling the tremor beneath your touch.

"sit," you commanded, voice like velvet.

he obeyed without hesitation, sinking onto the edge of your bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets.

you climbed onto his lap, straddling one strong thigh, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath you.

your soaked panties pressed against him as you started to rock your hips, slow, grinding motions that sent sparks shooting up your spine.

his hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, guiding your movements as you rode his thigh like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

"fuck, look at you," he groaned, tilting his head back, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you, dark and hungry. "so fucking pretty, so fucking wet."

you rolled your hips against his thigh, your soaked panties dragging delicious friction along the hard muscle beneath you.

doyoung watched you with a look that was pure hunger, his hands locked on your waist, controlling your pace, forcing you to grind harder, deeper.

"fuck, baby," he rasped, his voice a wreck of desire. "you’re fucking yourself on my thigh like a desperate little thing."

you whimpered, grinding harder, feeling the rough fabric of his pants rubbing right against your clit through the thin lace.

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for anymore — more, faster, him.

he growled low in his throat, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you onto the bed in one smooth, desperate motion.

"can't wait anymore," he muttered, tugging his shirt over his head, undoing his belt with trembling fingers. "need you. now."

you spread your legs eagerly, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as he shed the rest of his clothes, his cock thick and leaking, curving up toward his stomach.

he crawled over you, one hand sliding up your thigh, tracing the garter strap, hooking his fingers under it and snapping it playfully against your skin, making you gasp.

"keep it on," he ordered, voice dark and low. "i wanna fuck you in this."

you nodded frantically, hips canting up toward him, desperate for any kind of friction.

he lined himself up and pushed in slowly, groaning deep in his chest as he filled you inch by agonizing inch.

"so tight," he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. "so fucking good."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning brokenly as he started to move — slow at first, grinding deep inside you, savoring every second.

the lace scraped lightly against his skin, the garters tugging with every thrust, the whole thing messy and desperate and perfect.

he fucked you like he couldn't get close enough, couldn't get deep enough, like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and live there.

then he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, fucking you slow and filthy, making you feel every inch of him.

he pulled back just enough to look down at you, his cock still buried deep inside, his hands rough on your hips.

you cried out, legs trembling, the pressure building fast and brutal.

"wanna see you cum," he growled, fucking you harder, faster, making the bed creak beneath you. "wanna feel you."

your orgasm hit like a freight train, ripping through you with a force that left you gasping, clinging to him as you shattered apart.

his voice was low, almost a growl against your ear: "where do you want it, baby? tell me."

you whimpered, meeting his eyes, feeling the heat of your own desperation mirrored in his gaze.

"on my face and... my lingerie," you whispered, voice shaking with need. "i want you to ruin it."

his eyes darkened impossibly further, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal.

"fuck. fuck, you’re gonna kill me," he muttered, pulling out at the last second.

he pulled out quickly, fisting his cock with a few rough strokes, and then he was painting your face with hot, sticky ropes of cum, groaning your name like a prayer.

you moaned softly, licking a drop from your lip, watching him through hooded eyes.

but he wasn't done yet.

he stroked himself back to hardness almost immediately, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach.

you arched your back for him, showing off the perfect view — the lace barely covering your ass, the garters framing your curves beautifully.

he jerked himself hard and fast, the obscene sounds of slick skin filling the room, until he came again, thick and messy across your lower back and ass, the cum soaking into the delicate lace.

you stayed like that for a moment, panting, letting it drip down your skin.

you watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, heart hammering, feeling every hot splash land on you, branding you, claiming you exactly the way you asked for.

he collapsed onto the couch beside you, chest heaving, watching you with a dazed, satisfied grin.

you lay there for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the slick mess cooling on your skin, the ruined lace clinging to you obscenely.

and then, with a wicked little smile, you reached for your phone. you angled it perfectly — the sticky, creamy mess glistening across your stomach, the black lace sheer against your flushed skin.

click.

you uploaded it to your onlyfans with a simple, filthy caption:

"he made me a mess tonight."

hours later, doyoung sat on his own bed, phone in hand, heart pounding.

he opened your page and there it was — your body, still trembling, still glistening with the evidence of his obsession.

his cock twitched violently, already leaking, already aching.

he groaned low in his throat, unable to stop himself from palming his cock roughly, needing relief, needing you all over again.

he came in seconds, harsh and hot across his stomach, your name a broken whisper on his lips.

and he knew.

he was never going to survive you.

[tyunniez]

converse high... bttm male reader

!!.. this has to be my worst work yet,, uhh rough sex, creampie, kinda vanilla ngl, not proofread idfk also bts ref borahae 💜

you jumped around in excitement to see one of your favorite group is finally going on tour! and they're coming to your city!

you immediately rushed to check the tickets, choosing the vip standing seat. " wait, how much money do I have left? " you stopped yourself before making a bad decision.

you looked at your bank account and almost passed out. you're broke as hell.

" why the hell am I so broke? " you questioned yourself, trying to find a genuine reason.

you scanned throughout your room till your eyes landed on your closet. " ah. that's why. "

multiple articles of clothing brimmed your closet causing it to overfill, making you slightly grimace at how your clothing rail was holding on for its dear life.

you recently went on another shopping haul after seeing your favorite idol adorning a new collection that was released by your favorite fashion brand.

you just had to get it.

yeah, maybe you had a bit of a spending problem..

your parents have spoiled you since birth because you're their one and only child. no, you weren't wealthy. you had to take on jobs multiple times, but hey hard work pays off!

you were currently on your break, and you intended to spend it going shopping till you went broke but unfortunately, due to you blowing your money to buy another vip standing ticket, that money mysteriously vanished.

" hmm.. is there any job I can do right now? " you rolled around in bed while scrolling through your phone, trying to find any quick gag you could do to earn some cash.

you ended up throwing your phone to the wall, groaning aloud when you could find none.

" i'm so lazy! not to mention my piles of assignments... " you sighed to yourself, opting to go downstairs instead to eat your sorrows away.

you were greeted by both of your parents downstairs, your mom already getting started on making lunch. " oh dear, what's wrong? you look stressed. "

you go to stand beside her, washing your hands in the process to help her cook. " I'm looking for a job to buy a ticket for a concert. my fav group is coming here you know! " you complained to your mom.

you grab the onion and began slicing it, shedding a few tears meanwhile. your mom thinks to herself, turning to you with an idea.

" you know our neighbor is actually looking for someone to babysit her kid. the pay is quite good since her kid is quite.. naughty. " you stared at the soup you were stirring and hummed.

" i can send you the details if you're interested, dear. " you nodded and decided to see how much would the pay be, who knows it might be enough.

a bonus is the kid has a total hottie as her brother!

you took one look at the pay and were sold immediately. you did the math and doing this for the amount of time needed will be more than enough.

i mean, babysitting can't be that hard, right?

⊹₊⋆

you sighed nervously as you finally approached the front door, your tote bag on your shoulder with everything you needed inside. you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for the mom to greet you.

instead, you were greeted by someone else. " you the new babysitter? "

you stuttered, brain short-circuiting. instead of answering, you stared at the man in front of you.

the red-haired cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to answer with a raised brow. " hello? you there? " he asked in an annoyed tone.

" oh, oh yeah sorry. y-yeah, i'm the new babysitter. " you gripped the strap of your tote bag, trying your best to maintain eye contact with the man in front of you.

he hummed and opened the door wider for you to come in. you excused yourself and stepped into the house.

you walked up to ms. moore to greet her but before you could say anything she rushed towards you, her bag already in her hand.

" oh yn dear! i was just about to leave! thank god you're here. so there's money on the counter in case maya wants anything to eat. you can ask my son for any help. i'll be back before one so i hope you can withstand.. "

before you could ask any questions, she already rushed her way out towards the door. " jason, you better help the babysitter this time! thank you again and i'll see you when i get back, dear! "

with a slam of the door, she was gone.

you stood there, trying to process the information she just dumped on you. in your shocked state, jason gave you a pat on the shoulder. " she always does that. good luck dealing with that devil. ", was all he said before leaving you alone.

" maya, go easy on him! " he shouted upstairs.

you turned to the kid staring at you from the couch, a little concerned about what he just said. you've dealt with kids before, this will be easy.

⊹₊⋆

god, you regretted even thinking that.

there was a reason why babysitters kept dropping out like flies. this kid might as well come straight from hell!

you let out a long sigh as you crashed onto the sofa. you finally managed to put maya to sleep. though you couldn't really relax, still scared she might pull something with you thinking she was asleep.

" don't worry she's asleep. " you looked to the side to see jason slipping next to you on the couch, remote in his hand as he scrolled through various movies.

you let out another sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest and closing your eyes. you crossed your legs over one another, inspecting your slightly dirty converse high.

you peered over next to you, silently admiring jason.

you observed how his grown-out wolf cut, his red-haired that was now washed out is slightly messy, making it look like he just rolled out of bed.

your eyes were especially glued to his piercings. from his industrial to his snake bite, god he has so much.

you were more so drawn to his lips, that you could see his tongue-piercing. he purposely toyed with it, flicking his tongue out to tease you.

he licked his lips ever so slowly, his pink tongue grazing over his lower lip, not forgetting to graze over his snake bite. you gulped and looked away to try to get your mind on something else.

you didn't want to pop a boner in someone else's house!

" had enough already? " his sultry voice suddenly asked. you whipped your neck to look at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in a headlight, did he catch me staring..?

you cleared your throat and grabbed a nearby pillow to try to cover your growing hard-on.

" w-what're you talking about? " you glued your eyes towards the tv, trying to seem as unbothered as you can, thou the stuttering clearly gave it away..

jason rolled his eyes and discarded the pillow you were clinging onto, " oh come on, don't play dumb now. "

he pinned you down on the couch, caging you in leaving you no choice but to look at him.

" don't tell me you didn't notice at all.. "

you tried your best to look at him in the eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about. well, he was really touchy.. his hands always found their way to touch you no matter.

he always knows just where and when to linger his touches to make you slightly flustered, the way he held your waist earlier still not leaving your eyes.

he also never took his eyes off of you ever since you stepped into his house. his eyes always trailing over to wherever you are, observing whatever the hell you are doing.

your cheeks got redder as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide from his gaze. " see i know you were a smart boy, now how far are you willing to go, bunny? "

you clasped your hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back to the back of your head. this is all too lewd!

you peeked down to look at him and the view below you was breathtaking.

jason's messy hair was now slicked back with his sweat, his big hands holding your legs open as his tongue worked its way on your dick. you could feel his tongue piercing along it, the added sensation making your thigh quiver.

you slowly released your hold on your own mouth, breath shaky. " jason, i-i'm close.. " your meal voice was shaky from the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

he hummed and just continued to suck you, his hand now fondling your balls, massaging them as if to coax you to release.

you gripped the bedsheet below you, the warmth of his mouth mixed with the occasional cold feeling of his piercing was driving you over the edge. with a loud moan, you finally released in his mouth, eyes closing in bliss.

jason swallowed it all, making sure not to leave any drop behind. you didn't know whether to feel grossed out by it or not.

" ready to move on now bunny? " jason asked you while grabbing a bottle of lube, squirting a glob of it on his fingers. you silently nodded and watched as he squirted another glob on your hole.

" cold.. " you whined at him, feeling the chilliness of the lube. " don't worry, i'll warm you right up bunny. " he smiled.

he first inserted one finger into you slowly, letting you get used to the feeling. he began slowly moving it, occasionally grazing over that spot that made you see stars.

he then inserted another and another, steadily picking up his pace and getting more rougher as time went on. your eyes shoot back open as you kept your lips as tight as you could.

you were close and jason seemed to know this too.

before you could reach your climax, he swiftly pulled his fingers out. you looked up at him in confusion, dumbfounded as to why he stopped. " w-why'd you stopped? "

he took off his boxer, tossing it somewhere else. " don't tell me you were gonna cum just from that. the real fun begins now, bunny "

you watched as jason stroked his own dick, pouring lube on it. he was big. maybe too big for you. " are you sure it'll fit.. " you asked him while your eyes still trained on it.

" don't worry.. " he aligned himself with your hole, " i'll make it fit. "

with that, he shoved himself into you, the student action made you let out a loud moan. your eyes instantly teared up from the sudden stretch. you bit your lips to make sure no other noise escaped from you.

he was so big and you felt so.. full. his tip perfectly kissed your prostate, almost as if you were molded just for him.

" look at you taking it so well.. i knew i should've stuffed you full the moment i saw you. "

you stifled another incoming moan. your hands both covered your face, trying to hide your flushed face. two hands suddenly held onto your wrist, effectively prying your hands off of your face.

" don't hide this gorgeous face from me now. "

his own fingers intertwined with your own as he pounded into you roughly, going fast and aggressive from the start. a string of moans left your lips, your voice shaky due to how fast he was.

soon, one of his hands sneaked its way onto your thigh, hoisting it up. you almost screamed from how much deeper he was inside you. you didn't think it was even possible.

" jasonn, i'm near.. " you whined. your own dick bounced and twitched begging for release. " i'm close too, bunny.. cum with me, yeah? "

you nodded while jason held onto your ankles, his fingers digging into the fabric of your converse high. he somehow began speeding up, chasing his own climax.

you closed your mouth with your own hand, knowing damn well your moans were echoing throughout the house already.

with no warning whatsoever, you felt the warm liquid soon filling your inside, dropplings of it escaping from your hole. the feeling of being filled with jason's thick cock mixed with his own cum running down your ass caused you to also release.

you shut your eyes as your release painted your stomach white, some of it landing on jason's.

after a few moments of silence, he then let go of your ankles, slowly pulling out. you winced at the feeling of emptiness. you rolled to the side, jason also crawling next to you.

you soon almost lull yourself to sleep before remembering that tomorrow you have to babysit maya. oh god maya. you prayed she was sleeping like a baby and didn't hear anything.

" shit.. i honestly can't feel my legs and i still have to babysit maya tomorrow... " you groaned out loud next to him, trying to brainstorm an idea on how to babysit that devil in your current state.

jason only laughed next to you. talking about how he'll figure out a way to deal with her tomorrow. you hope he will since you can't miss the pay...

[romancherry]

caged in silk (3) — picnic date

pairings ➝ dark!joel miller x dark!javier peña x dark!marcus acacius x female!reader

summary ➝ a nice picnic during a perfect sunny day is turned into something unexpected when javier starts to seduce you. and when he is done, it's joel's job to clean it up.

warnings ➝ explicit smut, soft!dark content, fingering, oral (f!receiving), pussy eating, squirting, overstimulation, heavy praise kink, breast play, nipple play, pet names (especially good girl), guiding and talking reader through orgasms, kissing and making out, all of this happens out in the open in their backyard so it's immoral public behaviour, dirty talk, swearing, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

word count ➝ 4.900

author's note ➝ hello everyone i'm back with another update on this story! never thought i'd make it lol. i've been busy with college and my inspiration dimmed but i finally gathered the time necessary to write another chapter. it's a bit on the longer and more descriptive side. i tried my best to incorporate every detail i had imagined and i hope i didn't confuse you. if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or repost! my heart fills with love every time i read your supportive reactions 🩷

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

it had been a week since your failed escape attempt. a week since you had fought tooth and nail, trying to slip away from them, only to be caught and dragged right back where you belonged. 

you had been defiant, full of fire, spewing curses at them and threatening to make their lives hell. but now? now, you peacefully sat between them in the backyard. 

a picnic. their attempt at smoothing things over, at making you comfortable. 

the checkered blanket beneath you was soft, and the spread they had laid out was impressive: lemonade, fresh fruit, cheese and pastries, along with some beer bottles for them to enjoy. 

it was domestic, almost normal. if someone looked from the outside, they’d think this was just a group sharing a lazy afternoon together.

but you knew the truth. 

javier sat on your left with a protective hand resting on your thigh, thumb lazily tracing circles over your bare skin. marcus was across from you, sitting comfortably on a folding chair, reading a newspaper through his sunglasses with a beer in his hand. and joel was just a few feet nearby, tending to a couple of pork ribs on the grill.

it was almost laughable how much they tried to make you feel content here. it’s absurd how they went back to playing house after filling your mind with honeyed threats. don’t try to run again, sweetheart. it won’t end well for you. your place is with us. you belong here, you just don’t see it yet. 

“you’re awfully quiet, sweetheart,” joel said, turning his head towards where you and javier laid on the blanket, studying you.

you stabbed your fork into a piece of fruit, shoving it into your mouth before responding. “what am i supposed to say?” 

“attitude,” marcus warned.

“looks like someone’s feisty today,” javier teased, and you could peak with the corner of your eye just how smug and amused his smirk was displayed on his stupid face.

“why don’t you try an’ relax, hm? it’s a beautiful day, baby. sunshine ‘n all,” joel suggested. and he wasn’t wrong. today’s weather is indeed the only reason to smile. the grass is greener, butterflies are in the air, the sunrays are glowing upon you, making your eyes hurt a little. the colours are vibrant and the ocasional breeze makes it a little easier to breathe through the smell of barbecue and smoke.

too bad the company’s ruining everything. this would’ve normally been the perfect day for you if you hadn’t been in the presence of your captors who changed the course of your life drastically and expected you to fall in line quickly. bend and mold to their every decision and routine while learning to not cross their boundaries.

“what’s in that pretty little head of yours, darling?” javier interrupted your train of thought, his hand smoothing over the plump flesh of your thigh, a bit too uncomfortable for your liking. “i don’t like seeing that frown on your beautiful face,” he added, his words almost genuine. with his hand still warming your thigh, his other hand came up to brush a stray hair off your face and lock it behind your ear, revealing more of your cheek to him.

“eres tan hermosa, mi amor,” he whispered sweetly, and you just realized how close he got to you.

you slightly and carefully turn your head in his direction, and your nose almost brushes his. his gaze immediatelly follows your mouth and studies your anxious breathing. the way your throat barely constricts when you swallow. how you try to make yourself seem unaffected by his presence; not only the warmth and confidence he emanates, but how he’s so open with his desire and admiration for you just by the expression of his eyes alone.

his eyes slowly rise to meet yours, and before you can shy away from the overwhelming eye contact, he gently cups your cheek and brings your lips to his.

your shock comes to life through a light squeak, a sensible moan, and javier proudly swallows it whole. he doesn’t wait for you to give him permission. the moment his tongue breaks the barrier of your lips and meets your own, his chest fills with lust.

he kisses you like he’ll never get another chance; greedy, passionate, posessive. he makes love to your mouth, worships your tongue and ocasionally moans shamelessly at how warm and familiar you feel, like you’ve done this a thousand times before. he laps at every inch you didn’t willingly give; teeth crashing, lips burning, noses touching – and before you can stop yourself, your hand unconciously grabs his shirt, and his body moves itself by instinct, scooting impossibly closer to yours, searching for more. demanding more.

he forces himself to break the kiss, and he does it so annoyingly slow. his teeth drag your bottom lip with him as if daring you to seek his touch further. his lips completely depart from yours and create distance between you.

his eyes run over your every feature, taking in your shaken state. you’re obviously dizzy and flustered, your glossy eyes and slightly red cheeks giving you away to his predatory gaze.

“seems like someone’s having fun,” marcus breaks the silence, the deep, intimidating tone in his voice snapping you out of the trance javier put you in.

you can see in the corner of your eye that joel’s attention shifted as well, from the preparation of the meal on the grill to the heated situation between you and his younger brother.

you search for a glimpse of jealousy and posessiveness in his gaze, but you don’t find any. he looks… interested. amused. curious to see if you will let your guard down again.

his eyes roam over your body and analyze the slight tremble in your naked thighs. you silently curse them for the creativity they put into choosing the delicate sundress for you today. yellow, thin… questionably short.

you realize the choice for your attire is no sudden coincidence. they planned on making you give in. how much, you didn’t know. it was up to them to decide on how many bricks they were going to knock out of your walls. their games of seduction were limitless, and if you weren’t careful… if you let them have their way with you – you know they’ll absolutely ruin you. and you didn’t want that. didn’t want them to have that power on you.

you snap out of deep thought and carefully shimmy away from javier’s body. but he’ll have none of that.

“where are you going, princesa?” javier asks, placing his hand on your thigh. he doesn’t need to apply any pressure to let you know you can’t go anywhere further.

“nowhere,” you fake confusion in your voice, trying to hide your true intention. trying to hide the fact that you indeed wanted to get away from his overwhelming attention.

of course your lies couldn’t get past him. he’s a former agent, for fuck’s sake. if you’re searching for a master manipulator in this house, first person you think of is javier peña. you play his games; he doesn’t play yours.

“now, now, hermosa… you gave me a taste, you know you can’t leave me like this,” he taunts, his intentions clear.

“what would you want me to do?” you question, your irritated tone making it clear you won’t break easily. that you’re not his puppet, his personal hooker that he payed for in order to forget about his problems.

“attitude, sweetheart. watch your tone,” marcus warns. of course he had to lecture you.

“it’s alright, brother,” javier excuses you. he is being suspiciously sweet. “i don’t think our sweetheart meant any harm. did you, baby?” his question is a test. a subtle dare – act impulsively on your frustration and feel the consequences. play his game, by his rules – and maybe you’ll have a shot. maybe you’ll rise in his eyes; make him proud. make yourself worth accounting for next time marcus wants to teach you a lesson.

“no. i meant no disrespect,” you comply. and you don’t miss the growing smile on javier’s face.

“good girl. very good girl,” he appreciates, running his hand through your flowing hair as gentle as possible. a gesture of kindness. a praise. a glimpse of what could happen – what could be – if you choose to submit. “why don’t you come sit between my legs, hm, baby? you’ll be more comfortable here.”

his invitation makes your stomach turn in disgust. you know what he wants, what he seeks. he moves his legs apart to make room for you and you don’t let him wait, moving carefully in the space he created. you’re grateful he didn’t demand you to straddle his lap.

you place your ass as far away from his crotch as you can while you gently lay the weight of your back on his chest. you position your head on his right shoulder, urging him to cradle you, which he does. he removes the barrier your hair created between your faces, guiding it on the opposite side. his breath is heavy and heated on your cheek, and as if the situation couldn’t get more overwhelming, he sneaks his left arm around your waist, circling it, sticking your body to his, making it harder to breathe, to move, to escape him.

you need some means of grounding. a way to cope with the anxiety buzzing in your bones and boiling your blood, your patience. how dare he touch you this way? make a show of your submission and compliance in front of his brothers, for the first time ever? what does he hope to accomplish?

you gather in fists the material of the dress which innocently rests on the side of your thighs, right below the delicate curve of your hips. it’s a way supposed to help you calm down and stop anticipating what’s to come next. to sway you from the overthinking train of thought which is threatening to keep rising your panic.

javier notices the way your body tenses, and he frowns. he doesn’t like it – doesn’t enjoy the fact that you’ll think he’s going to hurt you, violate your privacy and independence. he merely wants to take care of you and help you relax. he quickly figures that maybe this isn’t the best place to do it – in front of the watchful and hungry eyes of his brothers. but he can’t take it back now. all he can try is to make the pain go away. to coax you into opening up and become vulnerable for him – for them.

“shh, baby, relax. relax,” he whispers while carefully massaging the length of your arm with the unoccupied hand. gentle strokes of his fingertips rise goosebumps in their path while going up and down, up and down, doing a better job than you expected. “don’t be afraid, i won’t hurt you. i could never hurt you,” he promises, but his words feel empty to you. meaningless. deceitful.

you feel the wet press of his lips right on your temple and you shiver. he is so gentle, too gentle. treating you like a fragile piece of ancient, romantic sculpture. he surely must think of you like that – consider you something, someone, worth protecting and appreciating. worthy of love.

“you smell divine, mi amor,” he inhales ocasionally, taking deep breaths of your scent – the floral detergent in your dress, the remnants of the shampoo and conditioner in your hair. even the natural scent of your skin, though subtle, is enough to make javier’s head spin.

his hand removes leaves your arm and trails dangerously lower, tracing the line between the bottom of your dress and the inside of your thigh. the occasionally cool breeze flows in your direction, bothering your thin dress and lifting it merely an inch off of your legs. each time that happens, you’re sure that marcus can see the center of your panties and the way they stick like second skin to your pussy, squeezing your throbbing clit.

javier struggles to hide his amused smirk each time he touches you, teases and plays with your imagination by threatening to dip his fingers lower. to enter new territory and sink between your legs to where you want him most.

“so soft, baby. soft as silk,” he murmurs into your ear, his praise followed by a gentle peck to your earlobe, “can’t believe something as sweet as you rests in my arms. you like that, baby? feel safe?” he urges you to answer, to respond in kindly to his advances so he can take your pleasure as a sign to go further.

you shudder at his honeyed praise and force to swallow a lump down your throat so you can speak. “yes,” it’s more of a moan than a proper word, “feels… nice.”

“good, baby. i’m glad you like it,” he nips at your earlobe, and the unexpected distraction presents an open door for his hand to quickly trail further down your dress and dissapear right between your legs. you only notice the sudden intrusion when you feel your body moving without your own accord – your legs slightly parting, making room for him to graze the tip of his index down the center line of your pussy, nudging your clit, and then pressing on your hole, through your panties.

you gasp in both pleasure and anxiety at the gesture, so you try to protect yourself. to shield what little dignity you have left by ending things before they progress into something worse, more serious.

in a pathetic attempt to close your legs, he intervenes by syncing the tight hold his arm has around your waist with the quick move of his feet rising from the blanket and surround your own from the inside, preventing you to close them further.

once you’re securely caged between his frame, he nudges your feet to open up more. encouraging them to move, little by little, towards the edge of the blanket. towards the exterior.

you saw this coming. and that’s even worse than being clueless and not anticipating it – because you knew what he would do, and you did nothing to stop it.

“please, javi. you said you won’t hurt me,” you pleaded, and you hated the inevitable tremble in your voice.

“poor baby, no. this isn’t what you think it is,” he reassures, his words matching his attempt at grounding and soothing you in his hold by kissing all over your temple and massaging the inside of your thigh, backing away slightly from your dripping pussy to make you feel less threatened. “i don’t want to hurt you, baby. i swear. if you let me, i’ll make you feel so, so good.”

you feel the way his heart beats against his chest, the rhythm vibrating in your backbone. he is equally anxious too; he really wants you to enjoy this. to not view it as a punishment. because even if you did nothing extraordinary to earn this treatment, you deserve to feel good too.

“i’ll make this pretty pussy so happy, sweetheart. make you happy too, happiest you’ve ever been. if you’ll just let me…” his promise ends with a pause, giving you time to think if you really want to give in.

the question is – are you stupid enough to refuse, or so weak you just approve?

is it really a sign of weakness, though? to just give in? to let yourself be caressed by him and feel the pulsing desire of his brothers who are desperately waiting for their turn?

all of this is under your control, if you think about it. they punish you for your dissapointing behaviour and shower you with affection as a reward for behaving like a proper lady. like how their proper lady should behave.

you don’t need a gun to assert dominance or make them listen. you hold their wills in the power of your hands.

“yes, javi. please,” you whisper.

“what did you say, baby? please repeat, i didn’t hear it, i swear,” he pleads with you, sounding desperate, not taunting, like before. he genuinely didn’t hear you – or he did, but he just didn’t expect you to comply so easily. so willingly.

“please, javi. wan’ you to make me happy,” you lick your lips, turning your head so your lips ghost his earlobe, and he shudders slightly at the brief contact. “make my pussy happy. pretty please?” you plead innocently, the tone of your voice rising slightly, sounding as if you’re the spoiled daughter of a rich man. pairing your encantation with the submissive doe eyes you present, you give him an impossible deal to refuse.

“good girl, baby. the best girl,” he lets out a ragged breath in relief, his fingers making quick, delicate work of arranging your panties to the side, moving the obstacle out of the way. “don’t have to ask me twice, babygirl. would do anythin’ for you and your pretty pussy.”

a surprised gasp leaves your lips as he guides two fingers through your slit from bottom to top, gathering the wetness he encountered at your entrance to the surroundings of your clit. “oh, mierda, cariño. you’re soaked. is it because of me, hmm?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your eye while rolling your clit between his index and middle finger.

“ah, yes javi. yes,” you admit shamelessly, moans blessing his ears each time your little bundle of nerves receives additional stimulation when he pinches your clit.

“that’s right, baby, sing for me,” he urges you, his patience slipping with each passing moment as his resistance crumbles. the resistance implies forcing your legs even wider, making your knees bend abruptly before shoving you full of three fingers and making you scream while squirting all over his hand and the blanket below.

your eyes go wide when he eases his middle finger inside your tight hole. you’re both surprised that the act itself met not one single obstacle; his finger just made its way in like your walls were invisible, like your pussy saw it coming and decided to expand itself to make room for him, to accommodate everything he had to give.

“please, oh fuck yes,” you moaned shamelessly now, not bothering to hide the building pleasure javier caused right in front of his brothers in their own backyard. he responded in kind, loving the way you felt so comfortable letting yourself go – letting him know you love the way he touches you.

“such a tight pussy, baby. see how she hugs my fingers? hm? imagine it was my cock instead,” another finger joins in, making it two – stuffing you full, yet you can’t get enough. “would you prefer my cock, sweet girl? do you think it’ll fit?” his teases are back, but you pay them no mind. in fact, you love them. paired with the expert moves of his fingers fucking your vagina until your eyes roll in the back of your skull – it’s fucking amazing.

a soft laugh escapes his lips when you don’t bother to answer his question. you actually can’t seem to, really – he can tell you’re on the brink of orgasm by the way your chest rises and falls and your abdomen constricts along with your toes curling.

“no, i guess it won’t fit, cariño. not when you’re this fucking tight, sweet girl. jesus fuck,” the hand which was previously surrounding your waist changes its location to your right breast, squeezing it through the fabric and causing your soft nipple to rise to a little peak. it wasn’t enough, though. he needed to feel the softness of your skin and properly pinch your nipples. so his hand makes its way to your neckline and shimmies right underneath it in a desperate hurry to cup your naked breast and feel the angry little nipple in the palm of his hand. he gives you a squeeze which is a little rougher than intended before caging your nipple between his thumb and index to give it a proper rub and twirl, making you choke on your own moan.

“yes, javi, yes! please, more! don’t stop, don’t ever stop. gonna cum so hard…” you sob, feeling your vision blur and your cheeks getting wet a second after that.

fuck, you went feral. him and his brothers are so grateful they all witnessed the fact that you’re visibly into nipple play, and not only – breast play entirely. he makes quick note of that and stuffs it deep into his memory before continuing his rough administrations to your nipple compared to the loving strokes and poundings of his fingers in your cunt.

“then cum, sweetheart. go on. go on, little dove. thaat’s right, give me what i want. let go, let go. such a sweet little girl, lettin’ me take care of her. wanna see your poor pussy cry too, baby, not just your eyes. come on, baby, soak my fingers.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice. even though the rhythm of his fingers did not (thankfully) change, keeping you right where you’ve been all along, on the bridge of bliss and orgasm, his words were enough to send you over the edge as you closed your eyes and came around his fingers violently, your whole body trembling in his careful hold in contrast to your throbbing pussy pulsing out your release, gushing around his fingers and wetting the blanket with splash after splash as he guided you all the way through it, his arm tightening around your breast, making sure you never leave this safe heaven.

after you came down from your high, your body gradually relaxed and his fingers sadly parted themselves from their home. he let you close your legs and he even pulled the bottom of your dress as low as he could afford it, since most of the material was bunched underneath your bare ass sticking embarasingly to the wet blanket.

you open up your eyes to see marcus turning his gaze from you and back to his newspaper, trying his best not to seem affected by what just happened. but you know better, and judging by the immense bulge he unsuccesfully hides from you, you just know he wants nothing more than to make his way between your legs and stuff you full of his cum until you’re left shaking. he wouldn’t even need to take down his pants all the way through from how quick it would all be over. he practically witnessed how javier struggled to fit two fingers inside your cunt – his cock would basically choke.

joel was none the wiser. he was struggling to hold back even more than marcus; his fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched, mouth closed shut along with a voluminous jugular vein pulsing furiously right beneath the tanned skin.

but you caught the red in his cheeks. he was visibly flushed, nervous and needy. eager to get a taste of you.

and so he did.

you stop breathing the moment he stalks towards you with a predatory look on his face, determined to dull the curiosity, grasping for something to claim from you.

all air is suddenly knocked out of your lungs when joel kneels in front of you and manhandles your legs apart, revealing your glistening pussy to his own gaze once more. she was all puffy and a bit swollen from before, the walls around the entrance pulsing and clenching around nothing as the opening looks much more evident and even wider than a few minutes ago.

“javier treated ya well, babygirl. took care of this lil’ girl jus’ right,” joel says, his deep, dominating tone making shivers crawl up your spine. “should clean her up. can’t leave her all messy.”

it’s all he says before diving head first into your cunt and licking all the juice dripping down your thighs and pussy. your ragged moan urges him to press on, despite your desperate attempts at begging him to take it slow on your overstimulated pussy. he doesn’t give a damn about your hands tangling and pulling his hair; he thinks it’s so fucking hot and it turns him on impossibly more, his cock aching for release in the confinement of his annoying boxers.

“mmm, ‘s right. goood girl,” he moans into your pussy, the vibrations adding more intensity to your building orgasm.

“you’re gonna cum on joel’s tongue, cariño? make a mess all over his face just like you did on my fingers?” javier whispers into your ear, the hand that warmed your breast starting to stir over the plump flesh to gather attention to your tortured nipple once more.

“yes… mmm, fuck yes. p-please, feels so, so… ah!”

“shh, that’s right, babygirl. let go. give it to joel, niiice and slow, thaaat’s it.”

your second orgasm practically makes you see stars. it comes fast and unexpected, crashing over you in the blink of an eye and lasting so long you wonder if you’ve gone blind. joel’s tongue fucks in an out of you, your poor hole trying to clench onto the thick muscle in an attempt to grab him and never let him go as he patiently laps up all your release with a content hum.

he presses a gentle kiss to your clitoris when he’s done. you can’t, won’t, open your eyes again. you don’t need to look at him to know the painful look he probably has on his face because he wishes he could do it all over again. never depart his face from between your legs.

his mind races to various ways and possibilities of making you cum on his face. next time, he’ll definitely make you ride his nose while making love to your pussy with his tongue and mouth. bringing you to several orgasms until you beg for him to put you out of your misery and sink himself into your tight warmth until you’re nothing but a whimpering toy.

one day, he thinks. one day, you’ll succumb to all of their wants and desires.

because you’ll be addicted. to how they make you feel, how they take care of you. to their smell and touch. to them. it’s all just a matter of time, which you and them have plenty of. because you’re never leaving them again.

[angelwhisp3rs]

✧˚ · . 7 minutes in heaven

Pairing: RE2!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Leon gave his girlfriend the best gift ever - his virginity ❤

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (f); loss of virginity; leon is desperate; they are in love your honor

Notes: IM BAAAAAACK! Had to take a week off to focus on my studies, but now im free! Was supposed to post this earlier, but i got lazy!

Minors do not interact!!

After dating for quite a while, it was visible that Leon was a great boyfriend, he was confident in everything he did, he paid attention to the little details and was always surprising her. That’s why, on her birthday, he decided to give her something much more special - his virginity.

At first, it was weird talking about it, he was a grown adult, with a job and everything, and he still had his v-card intact. He was so focused on his career that things like that never really mattered to him. That’s until she came along, and he knew that he wanted to share something so personal with her, and only her.

Setting the mood, he woke her up with a nice bouquet of her favorite flowers and a warm breakfast, the meal eaten while they shared sweet kisses and sweet nothings. He hated that both needed to go to work, the day passing slower in his mind since he was anxious for the night.

When the night fell, both felt giddy - Leon because he was finally getting a taste of sex - something his colleagues always boasted about - and her because the man was making her day so perfect, she had no idea how it could get any better.

At dinner, she noticed him more fidgety, as if he had something on his mind. At first, Leon wanted to play it cool, being a gentleman and serving her for the entire night, but the moment he saw her red inviting dress, his dick decided that he wanted to do the thinking, not his actual head. The slit on her dress showed her soft thighs, and he could only wonder how good they would feel wrapped around his head as he fucked her with his ton-gosh, he needed to focus.

“Baby, you seem worried. Is something the matter?” She quietly asked him, worried that something might have happened.

“No, it's fine, love. Just thinking how pretty you look” he half lied, smiling sincerely at her as he caressed her hand, looking completely smitten by the woman sitting in front of him.

She blushed at his comment, he was always an expert in making her feel so loved.

For now, she chose to drop the matter, just wanting to enjoy the evening with him.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Dinner was amazing, the food was spot on. They walked around a park nearby, enjoying the flowers falling and making the scenery movie-like. They talked and laughed, now filling their hearts after filling their stomach.

As they headed home, Leon felt his heartbeat quickening, but took deep breaths- the night wasn't over yet.

He softly guided her near him, wrapping his arms around her as they shared a deep and passionate kiss, moving his hands all over her body and tightening his grip around her hips.

“Love, want to go to our bedroom? Don't want this night to finish yet” he whispered against her lips, their saliva making everything more wet and intimate.

She looked surprised at him, since she knew from the beginning that he was still a virgin, and was always supportive and patient with the man, never wanting to rush things. The woman nodded, being guided to their room as they still didn't break their hold and deep kisses.

Feeling a rush, Leon pushed her into their bed making her yelp a bit, earning a sorry look from him. God, she was not a ragdoll Leon, stop thinking about porn!

“Baby, we don't need to do this, you know that, right?” She asked him with a smile, watching as he moved to hover her body

“Really want to… I’ll be good to you, baby” he whispered as he pressed kisses to her neck, clumsily pushing her dress up

If it wasn’t such an intimate moment, she would’ve laughed as he tried to push her dress out without even realizing that it had a zipper on the back. Ending his misery, she gently pulled him back and zipped the clothing down, laying on their bed in her black underwear (thank god she decided to wear matching ones today!).

Like a poor and desperate horny boy, the first thing he did was press his face against her tits, wanting to suffocate himself on her chest. She giggled at his eagerness, watching as he mouthed and pressed open mouthed kisses on her cleavage, as his hands kneaded them. 

Not waiting anymore, his hands traveled to her back, reaching her bra clasp. He grunted in dissatisfaction as that task proved to be harder than it looked - god, are those things indestructible? Once again, pitying him, she simply reached back and undid her bra in a swift moment, making Leon look at her dumb founded “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Practice” she giggled “you’ll get to be as good as I am the more you do it”, and then gave him a wink

He chuckled, but turned his focus back to the task at hand, and threw her bra somewhere along their room (he genuinely had no idea where it went). He tried not to be a creep, but he couldn’t help but stare at her boobs for a long time, only breaking the spell when she giggled at his hungry eyes. Her chest on show, his mouth worked directly on her nipples, sucking and wetting awkwardly. The man was just too eager to try to get a taste of her, and the soft feeling of her buds on his tongue made his hips twitch, desperate from any friction.

Even if it was messy, she could only moan and tug his hair in pleasure - even if uncoordinated, his tongue felt so delicious, her cunt gathering arousal quickly. “F-fuck, baby… more” she moaned as her hands didnt leave his blonde locks.

He was completely in ecstasy as he heard her needy voice, nodding as he kissed his way down her body, playing with the lace on her underwear. He softly kissed the fabric and pulled it down, almost ripping it because of how excited he was. He looked at her wet cunt and gaped, as if he was seeing paradise for the first time.Quickly, he fumbled as he removed his shirt, opening his belt and laying on his front, putting her legs on his shoulders.

What now?

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Well, Leon had to think of every porn he has ever watched - not that those were accurate and all, but he could at least mimic the movements. But as he watched her wet cunt throb, everything flew away from his mind, he just craved her, and her taste. Before she could say anything, his face moved forward and he licked her clit wantonly - he wasn't even timid about it, his tongue was firm and sure, making her body arch from the bed, her gentle hands moving down to tug his hair.

“Fuck, Leon!” she whined, sensitive from his eager muscle moving against her bundle of nerves

“Wanna make you feel good, baby… need you to drench my face” he said in muffled words, as he still ate her out, his hands holding her hips and thighs tightly.

The only thing guiding Leon was her reactions at where his tongue passed, her moans getting especially louder when he rolled and sucked the little button above her cunt lips, so he kept his work there. If Leon died now, he would die as a happy man. Her pussy tasted sweeter than his favorite candy, and the wet sounds caused by the suctioning sounded so, so sinful, he just couldn’t stop. 

He was so focused on the sensation that he didn’t even realize when her legs started shaking around him and the grip on his hair grew tighter. “B-baby, G-gonna cum!” she moaned desperately, looking down at him and biting her lips, her cheeks being fully flushed.

“Please, cum on my tongue, need it, need to taste it…” he rambled as he sucked and rolled his tongue viciously, his rough hands holding her hips down, not letting her squirm away from his grasp. 

Soon, she saw fireworks and exploded against his mouth - of course that man made a woman cum on his first time, he was Leon S. Kennedy after all. She laid shaking on the bed, pushing his head away and closing her legs for the moment, as Leon had to lower his pants and underwear, watching her explode almost made him cum in his pants, he needed to feel her now.

He gently parted her legs again, his hands caressing and feeling up her body as he was addicted to the feeling of her skin, as they shared soft kisses. When they felt she was ready, he slowly rubbed his head against her entrance and clit, making both moan - Leon  had to think about very disgusting things, otherwise he would cum like a horny teen and he wouldn’t even be inside her. 

“Are you ready, baby? We can back down if you want to” she assured him once again, caressing his face lovingly as both looked at each other with a shared and intense passion. 

He shook his head, smiling and kissing her forehead “love, I adore when you are sweet, but I need to fuck your brains out or i’ll go insane” he chuckled, and his hand guided just his tip in.

Just the tip, and she swallowed him with vigor, making Leon let out a choked out moan. It was only the head, and yet, he felt his cock throbbing and twitching, he really needed to hold back, otherwise this would end sooner than he would’ve liked.

Slowly, his entire shaft was inside her, and Leon swore he was seeing stars, just like those old cartoons. Holy shit, is that what sex was like? Now he gets it. He should call off work this week and spend with her in bed, fucking and working up his stamina.

“You can move, baby” she whined impatiently. God dammit, woman, mind your tone! If she kept talking to him like that, he would absolutely blow in his first thrust.

He nodded and began moving, and if he wasn’t hitting that gummy spot, she would be laughing, the sight adorable - his face was red as if he was holding his breath, and his mouth was hanging open as he watched his cock slide in and out, getting creamier and creamier with her cunt juices.

Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled the man into a kiss, making his knees buckle and his hips move in a grinding motion, his hair ticking her puffy pussy as their moans were drowned in their kisses. Her nails scratched his back, being enough to create red lines but not really hurt him. 

While both were losing their minds, the only sounds in the room were loud moans, some bed rattling and their skin slapping. His hips - thankfully - met a more pleasurable rhythm, not too fast or slow. Enough to make him feel his cock on her cunt, while she felt her wet pussy molding into his dick.

“Fuuuuck, can’t hold it, can’t hold it” he moaned in almost unintelligible moans, holding their hands together as his hips started to falter and her thighs went more rigid as the pleasure waves flowed through them.

“Come inside, baby, mark me, let it all go” she said aiding him

Soon, like her words casted a spell on him, he filled her up as her walls closed on him, thankfully cuming together. Both laid there regaining their breaths, Leon resting his head right against her heart beat - the best song he has ever heard. She guided him for another gentle kiss, both smiling like idiots in satisfaction.

Leon was a full man now! And he didn't even embarrass himself, knowing he made her come and fucked her properly! He looked at the wall on the nightstand to verify how long he managed to go and… wait, what the fuck? Only seven minutes? No, no, he needed to do better! 

Pulling him away from his paranoia, she looked at him with heart eyes and whispered “That was the best birthday ever. Thank you for making all of this special. it was perfect”

For the first time in the night, he blushed and nuzzled into her neck, whispering back “It really was. Couldn’t imagine doing this without you. Thank you for being so patient and staying”

“Would wait forever if it meant being with you” she simply answered, making his heart soar.

Leon was fine with the seven minutes now, after all, they had a lifetime to make up for it.

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[yamysunmoon]

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

(I always request masc!reader, hope that's okay!)

Cairo has a habit of sitting on R’s lap when she’s working or distracted, running her fingers through R's hair and teasingly murmuring, “You’re mine, you know.” R just leans back and smiles, letting Cairo take control of the moment.

I know these are really short prompts (?), ideas, but I hope you can add something more into them, to make a complete story! Love your writing!!

-🥧

MINE

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x fem!reader

Summary: basically what anon said + reader and Cairo are in a committed relationship, reader is 1-2 years older than Cairo (she's about 22 by now), they're spending the spring break together in Cairo's mansion (they basically live together). Reader has an online meeting and Cairo is not willing to be unattended.

Words count: 3476

Warnings: smut +18, dry humping, teasing, possessive Cairo, reader calling Cairo "little ghost"

a/n: about the "i always ask for masc!reader" note, this lovely person sent the request before I posted my rules. Now yall know :)

Also first anon nickname! :) tysm for the request and your kind comment, 🥧 ig "punchline" was also requested by you so truly thanks for your incredible ideas. Hope this one reaches u

MASTERLIST

Cairo has a way to get into you. Since you first met, she's always known how to see through you, how to make you feel loved and seen.

She's very watchful; not a single detail about you has ever slipped away. That's something that made you fall instantly for her.

She always knows what you need, even before you do.

Lazy Saturdays like this one were all you needed to recharge for the next week. Just casually having lunch with Cairo in her huge, not anymore lonely mansion that she had inherited after her parents left the town for good.

After months deliberating, you had accepted her proposal of living together, following two years of relationship.

"Have a little more" she presses, her usual confident demeanor about what you need fills her tone as she serves you more food.

She isn't that good at the kitchen, but your favourite dish has become one of her main in her already concise repertoire.

"Wow, not that much. I have a meeting in two hours, I don't wanna be overcame by drowsiness afterwards."

Your lips curl up sideways as you watch her serve you carefully, listening to your request.

She glances at you narrowing her eyes, a soft pout on her lips.

"Ugh, I had forgotten your damned online meeting..."

While Cairo is enjoying her spring break, resting from college, you're a bit older than her and have already finished your studies.

That's why you have the luck to count on an stable job that allows you to work from home. Although this aspect of your job lets you spend more time with Cairo during her break, she doesn't seem to be content.

"Why do they need a meeting so badly on a Saturday?" she huffs dramatically, "The insatiable jaws of capitalism got you trapped again."

She leans back against her chair and crosses her legs, staring at you with a glint of playful haughtiness in her eye.

There's a slowness in her every move, a strategic seduction in her deliberated gestures.

She's wearing a creamy sweater combined with a denim jacket and a skirt with vertical stripes. Her legs are divine, covered by black stockings up to her upper thighs.

You shrug, mirroring her placid posture, but without crossing your legs. Instead, you spread them ever so slightly, your hands placed on your thighs.

"I just follow orders, ma'am" you shoot back, smirking.

Her gaze drifts briefly to your inviting legs and big hands before snapping up back at your eyes. One corner of her lips curls up a little, reveiling a hidden sly smile.

She exhales through her nostrils in a mocking huff, clearly enjoying the banter.

"Oh, I figured." She quips. "You've always been quite a... Docile girl, aren't you?"

She gives you a smug smile, wiggling her eyebrows. You grin, eyelids suddenly feeling heavy as your gaze drops to her body offered to you.

You wonder if your boss really needs you to attend to that meeting, because you could use yourtime for some much more appealing activities.

She can barely contain her relish at your obvious mesmerized state. She uncrosses her legs, your eyes dragging along her slender thighs, following her every move.

Her skirt is ragged up slightly, she doesn't do anything to prevent it. Instead, she scoots her hips back, sitting straight on the chair. The fabric slides up further, revealing more delicious inches of her creamy skin.

Her calves are crammed into fitted black stockings, but you can still appreciate the details of her legs- slender and delicate, you can almost feel the smooth texture brushing against your finger pads from the thousand million times you've had her all to yourself.

She leands forward, resting her forearms on her upper thighs.

"Are you seriously relinquishing to the suffocating cuffs a job that deprives you of spending your afternoon with me?"

Her voice is soft and feminine, glinting with seducement. Her eyes sparkle with naughtiness and something deeper, more subtle, something you can't quite decipher just yet.

You interwine your fingers on your lap, your body language telling her she's not going to convince you. "You're a quite dramatic, my little ghost. It's an hour-long meeting. I'm sure you'll survive."

She narrows her eyes, maintaining your sardonic eye contact as she fully smirks, not hiding anymore how much this banter is entertaining her.

She finally shrugs, "I had to try" she murmurs, finally breaking eye contact as she stands up to clean the table.

You help her and the kitchen delves into a comfortable silence. You share faint feather-light grazes, your hands gently holding her by her waist as she scrubs a plate, then letting go of her just when she was laying back against you.

She looks at you over her shoulder, eyes narrowing again, her nose scrunching, she shakes her head a little in pretended annoyance.

You squint at her, a tiny smile on your lips as you put away a dish after drying it. Her gaze remains on you, and so you finally turn around a little and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm not trying to tease you, sorry baby" you mutter, meek.

The playful glint in her eyes endures, eyelids fluttering briefly at your sweet gesture.

She would never admit it, but you always manage to melt her seemingly unfathomable cold heart.

"Oh, sure... I'm convinced you're not trying to play with me, sweetheart" she coos, suspicious.

You shake your head and roll your eyes slightly, smirking.

You truly weren't planning on tantalizing her, but her ethereal way of carrying herself always attracts you, like a helpless insect falling for the seducing flame.

You spend the next hours on the couch, she drapes her legs over your lap, keeping you warm and cozy as you massage her thighs mindlessly, both of you silent while listening to the news.

You've always enjoyed the quietness of her mansion. The distorted sound of her vintage TV, the faint smell of smoke lingering in the air, the high walls and worn-emerald paper walls covering them.

Cairo is reading a book, per usual, sprawled, and her feet fidget on your lap, rubbing subtly against your pants.

Your attention drifts between the TV and her endearing behavior. You feel like a prey being seduced by a good-looking predator, who pretends being oblivious to her own alluring game.

Her toes graze your groin, the suggestive fabric of her stockings sending a pleasant shiver through your spine.

You turn your head, finding her sweet stare peeking above the spine of her book. She wiggles her eyebrows twice, and you both giggle quietly.

Your giggle turns into a soft hiss when her touch turns a little more present, her foot sliding between your thighs. You look down.

She moves her ankle in slow circles, the sole of her foot pressing against your inner thigh as her heel grinds dangerously close to your clothed center.

You squirm, scooting back. "Cairo..." you murmur in a husky warning, glancing at her.

You find her playful stare on you, head tilted calmly, book carelessly dropped on her chest.

You gazes lock, and for a significant second you seriously consider to miss that damn call.

She notices your hesitation, her breath hitches in her throat, plump parted lips showing you her perfect teeth as she pants quietly, releasing air she didn't know she was holding.

Your fingers clutch her legs, her foot still perilously close to your crotch. You inhale deeply, gathering the courage to reject her ignoring your deepest desires, when your phone makes a notification sound.

You finally break eye contact, her gaze flying to the table where your phone is buzzling.

You glance at it, it's a Google Calendar notification. The meeting is about to start.

"I gotta go, baby" you say softly as you gently push her legs away. "I'll be in the studio."

You stand up, stretching your arms and torso. She sits up and glances at your phone, its screen is still lit up.

"Oh" her eyebrows raise, "she's gonna be there."

Her tone has a hint of annoyance and something underneath, something that's poking.

"Who?" You look down. "Oh, Lizzie. Yeah, the whole team is there."

"You call her Lizzie now?"

She looks up at you, her gaze glistening with her usual mysterious aura.

You can't quite understand the meaning behind her tone; you've never conceived Cairo as a possessive partner.

"Uhm... Yeah? She's just an acquaintance from the office."

Cairo's stare remains on you, calculated. She's scans your expression, her eyebrow arching at your specific choice of words.

She gets what you mean; Elizabeth is just a colleague from work, someone meaningless in your life. Her face lets you know she trusts you.

She just happen to despise her, and is not willing to hide it.

"Hmm... Does Elizabeth know she's just an acquintance from the office?" She purrs mockingly.

You reach down patting the top of her head in a mix of playfullness and true tenderness.

"Well, I talk about you non stop, so she should know."

She pauses, sighing in contentment at your touch and reassurance.

"Then she should stop reminding you about the meeting as an excuse to text you" she retorts.

Is in that moment when you grab the phone and see Elizabeth's message.

She has left you a rather sweet message with a couple of cute emojis, reminding you of the incoming reunion.

You glance at Cairo, your gaze earnest yet soft, in firm reassurance.

"I'll be clear with her, little ghost." You promise, then leave a kiss on her forehead and leave the living room.

"No if I let her know first, love" she mutters once you're gone.

------------------------------------------------

You're in the studio already, your boss talking as the rest of the team has the camera on and microphones muted.

You're noting down very important point she makes; pencil sliding gracefully as your messy handwriting fills the page.

The warm lighting of the spring day bathes the spacious room, and you get distracted from time to time by staring at the beautiful lighting it provides you with.

Half in the meeting, Cairo steps in the office.

"Sorry, left my cigarettes here" she whispers as she approaches. The box of cigarettes is on the table beside your laptop.

You glance at her, "It's okay, I'm muted" you whisper playfully. Your boss is still talking but now you're distracted, obviously.

She smirks and her body gets in frame as she reaches for the box. You turn off your camera.

"Babe! I could've given it to you" you scold weakly, secretly enjoying the faint pressure of her thighs against your leg and her arm brushing your face.

She glances at the screen. "They are all really here, huh? Truly perplexing" she comments, casually sitting on your lap.

You lean back, holding your hands up in mock surrender. She has this habit of sitting on your lap whenever you're busy working on your computer, but she has never done it during a meeting of this sort. "What do you think you're doing?"

She shrugs indifferently. "Getting comfortable" she claims, her voice muffled as she holds a ciggarette between her lips, "now that you've turned off the camera."

You look back at the screen, your boss has stopped talking and now your co-workers are sharing their concerns, doubts and points of view.

Before you can retort, your boss adresses you. She calls you by your surname, then asks "why have you turned off your camera? Is everything okay? I was hoping on having your input as well."

Your eyes widen and you blush slightly, Cairo is admiring your flushing state with a thin smirk, lips stretched keeping the cigarette between her lips.

You turn on the mic. "Yeah, everthing's fine... It just turned off randomly. I can't turn it on, something's off"

You blush further and shake your head slightly, uncomfortable because of telling a lie and because of using your words so poorly in front of your boss.

You can see her frown in confusion and suspicion through the screen, she seems to hesitate; everyone saw that mysterious figure before your camera went off, and many in your office know about Cairo.

However, she blinks and shakes her head slightly, becoming desinterested.

"Okay, whatever... Any suggestions on your behalf?"

You gulp, and Cairo shifts, shamelessly straddling your thigh. Her thighs press deliciously against the sides of your leg, holding you in a warm grip.

You look at her, alarmed. She just shrugs and reaches for a match.

"Yeah, actually, I have a couple of notes..." you mumble, but your eyes are on her.

Your gaze follows her every move, the crispy sound of the match lighting and the warm light of the fire lighting up her features take your breath away.

"Well?"

The hint of impatience in your boss's voice brings you back to reality. You blink and turn your head abruptly, causing Cairo's smirk to grow wider.

"Yes, sorry, I was looking for them precisely" you excuse yourself miserably, the blush in your cheeks burning your skin.

For a excruciating minute, you try to explain your thoughts on your boss's proposition as Cairo smokes quietly next to your face, ocassionally shifting her hips back and forth ever so slightly.

You can feel her warmth against your leg under that tiny skirt that's travelling higher with every swift move of hers.

You have to catch your breath several times, and eventhough your colleagues can't see you, you can defenitely witness their confused expressions as they hear your obviously awkward tone.

Nevertheless. your words are eloquent, even if rashly, and Cairo listens to you with a mix of pride and amusement in her expression.

She has always had a thing for gorgeous girls who speak their minds. It's even more impressive given the situation.

When your done, your boss nods and thanks you for your 'interesting approach, which will be most definitely taken into account', as she says.

You let out a deep sigh of relief the moment you turn off your mic and your boss's attention and everyone else's drifts to another co-worker.

"Cairo, that was unnecess-" you can't even finish your sentence before a sharp hiss interrupts your train of thoughts, her core firmly pressing against your thigh.

"Oh, you're so effortlessly teased, my love" she purrs, nuzzling her noise into your neck.

The faint smell of smoke and the heat of her breath fans your neck. Yyour eyelids flutter in bliss, much to your dismay.

You inhale profoundly, your chest rising and falling as you try to keep some composure. The voices of your colleagues are far forgotten by now.

"You're such a tease, little ghost" you groan, your hands enveloping her waist, encouraging her to keep going.

She grins, one hand holding her cigar while the other wraps around your neck. "Am I? I swear, I just saw you here, so lonely, and I was like... Yeah, that's my seat..."

You chuckle dumbly, slightly gay panicking as you stare at her mesmerized in pure veneration.

"Oh yeah? It's that so? Your seat?"

She trails off to give you a smug smile and nods slowly.

Cairo hums seductively in affirmation, "hmm-hmm, definitely." She leans in and kisses your jawline, tracing it with her soft lips.

"You're all mine."

Her voice is laced with a beguiling certainty, she sounds husky and sure of what she's saying, knowing damn well you won't disagree with her.

Cairo looks sideways at the screen, spoting Elizabeth as you squirm miserably beneath her. She darts out her tongue and drags it along your jaw, her eyes fixed on that woman before they slowly turn to you.

"See that bitch? She wished she had you, but you're mine. All mine."

You stifle a quiet whimper. The way she rocks against your thigh makes your body bounce, following her rhythm. You look briefly at your co-worker before looking away, at her, your cheeks painted with a pale pink, embarrassment remaining.

"Don't worry about her, she's—"

"Who do you belong to?

She interrupts you in that quiet dominant harsh voice of hers, the one she grants you with when she's convinced about what she's saying. Her hand around your neck slides up to grab your hair, making you lift your chin.

Her elbow is resting on her right thigh, her hand holding the cigarette. It's burning, the white smoke surrounds her face giving her some sort of fascinating aura.

She is staring at you intently, clearly expecting an answer.

You babble, your hands fidgeting restless on her sides. She smiles mischievously, and resumes with her grinding.

"Uh...You..." you mutter sheepishly.

The corners of her lips curl up slightly, pleased but still not satisfied.

"What did you say, again? I can't hear you when you speak so faintly, sweetheart" she purrs mockingly.

You whimper, a silent complain dying in your throat. The muffled voices of your teammates saying their goodbyes are a distant echo that makes the scene even more enclosed.

She glances, expectant. A layer of burnt out cigarette falls down to your pants, she wipes it away but still leaves a mark. You look down, silently hoping it'll stay.

You peek up at her, the subtly motion of your head emphasizing her grip in your hair.

"Yours. I'm yours"

You voice is breathy, but this time is firm. You hold her gaze, defiant.

Cairo tilts her head slowly, looking at you with curiosity gleaming in her eyes. She batts her eyelashes feidging innocence, and her hips roll deliciously against your thigh.

She brings the cigar to her mouth and inhales deeply, then deliberately exhales on your face, making you flinch and blink.

She chuckles darkly, "Hmm, damn right" she finally adresses your words in a pleased tone. "That's my girl."

She leaves the spent cigarette somewhere safe and turns back to you, her hand sliding to a side of your neck.

"You are in deed my beautiful girl, aren't you?" She coos, rocking her hips steadily as she nestles in your neck, inhaling deeply, then dragging her canines along your skin.

"See how well you talked, how eloquently, as I was rubbing my cunt against you? See how perfect you are, keeping your shit together when in reality all you long is to fuck me here, on this very chair?"

Her voice is like a sexy spell getting whispered in your ear, her teeth sinking into your flesh only provoke you further; your whimpers turning into whines as your hands grip her sides.

Cairo smiles against your skin, she nuzzles your jawline, you can feel her delicate nose tracing your features.

You throw your head back slightly, your fingertips curl around her curves whilst you feel her motion, you feel her warmth against your thigh through your pants.

Cairo tilts her head up slowly, she mapes your right cheekbone with her dangerous mouth.

"You're right, sweetheart. You are mine" she repeats again, an erotic mantra slipping out of her lips.

Her hand holding the side of your neck snakes up and her fingers slide into your hair, playing with it as her other hand keeps a firm grip above your nape.

Your lips are parted letting go soft pants, and she goes on whispering sweet nothings, reminding you who you belong to, who owns you; while her skillful hands handle you so tenderly and her eager hips swing, as she uses you for her pleasure.

Your hands drift to the small of her back, pulling her down harder, and she stifles a little moan when she presses herself more purposefully against you.

Her hips are bucking and her breath is ragged, hot breaths fanning your ear as she whispers,

"Neither Elizabeth nor anyone else— are going to have you. Ah— you're mine, pretty girl."

Her possessive speech is interrupted by her own stifled moans and quiet whines, and she dry humps you so firmly it makes you grab her in a way to anchor yourself.

You look over her shoulder, the screen of your laptop black, showing how you're the only one left in the online room.

The darkness allows you to admire her reflection, the way her body is moving, riding your leg.

You throw your head forward, resting your forehead on her shoulder as she keeps rubbing against you, relentless, insatisble, demanding.

"You're mine... Mine... Mine..."

The way she's cradling your hair is softer now, but her hips are jerking insistently, a sharp contrast to her also smoother voice, laced with affection and deep desire.

You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her closer, pulling her down too.

She grinds fiercely, panting heavily in your ear, messy kisses all over your neck.

And a lucid thought comes across your foggy mind, an epiphany keeping you grounded to this moment.

You're hers.

taglist: @red1culous @bbygrl008 @aroooheartzzz @oxt3n @lailathegayqueeeen @bellward3456 @lightningirlz @freestarfishdinosaur @babyhumanoidpsychicnerd @2thamax @ortegalvr @ijustlovemaths @dequiem @christinaliner69 @avaseye @bella423

[princessbrunette]

I love stepbro!jj, what about step sis asking jj to help her cum because she just can’t get the write angles :(

HELPING HAND ♡

tryin something new n decided to be less lazy with my writing and presentation. ♡

CW: step-cest, tiny bit of faux-cest if you blink i think ?? this is dark content technically, do not interact if that’s not ur thing. aside from that, usual warnings such as smut and mentions of past family issues. proceed with caution ❀

You loved when JJ came home.

It was simple, something he did everyday — well, most days atleast if he wasn’t off on some grand adventure you’d hear about a few days later, curled up to his side on the couch digging your toes into his thigh and begging him for details.

Anyway, JJ was different when he’d come home. Not like himself in the morning, running around frantically always half way out the door, still pulling up his pants holding the bagel you had put in the toaster between his teeth, ruffling your hair as he passes you as an apology for stealing your breakfast.

JJ when he came home was calmer. Not always super tired, just… done with the day, happy to be home, happy to see you. He was still warm from the sun, despite it having gone down hours ago, and always smelt like salt water still from being in and out the ocean all day. He’d wear a lazy dopey smile, dropping down on the worn leather of the couch beside you, spreading his arms along the back of it.

Today was different, and you wanted to be your usual silly and playful self with him, chatting until it gets late, your mother passed out asleep and his father taking a night shift up on the pier, a job JJ thinks he’s lucky to have talked himself into, yet pleasantly surprised he’s kept it up this long. Nights like these, your chatting would turn to playful wrestling, any excuse to get your hands on eachother and then a few guilty, chaste kisses once he’d inevitably pinned you. You weren’t in your usual mood however.

He hadn’t touched you in a while, not like that anyway. The glossy, pearl pink of your nail had been chipped off from your incessant nibbling, anxious thoughts swirling your mind regarding whether JJ had come to his senses, realising he shouldn’t be helping his little step-sister like this, and he’d rather just pretend it didn’t ever happen. God, had he spoken to someone about it? Been guided out of your needy hands? Your wondering had lead you to pull away slightly, not seek out his help like you so badly wanted to, trying to please yourself the way he did, attempting to remember the exact way he curved his fingers against your squelchy spot.

But your fingers weren’t long like his, and no matter how far you bent your wrist it just wouldn’t crook up to the angle you needed— and you didn’t even wanna get started on your lack of coordination in rubbing your clit at the same time, it was all too much for your hazy little head, and after pretty much working yourself to tears you’d resorted to huffing, pulling up your pyjama shorts and going to sulk on the couch in the dark, room lit up by old Spongebob re-runs.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when JJ came home, and you wasn’t sure why. Well, you were — you were in a foul mood, and him walking through the door all warm and smiley and devastatingly charming just made you throb harder, clenching hard enough that you could crush a fuckin’ walnut in there. His dumb little sleeveless shirts and shorts and backwards red cap smushed over an abundance of sun-bleached hair. He didn’t even try, he just woke up and looked like that. It was twisted. How dare he.

“No ‘hello’? Y’know, you’re too pretty for all that pouting. Wanna talk about it? Talk to Papa J?”

He’s already teasing you, it’s like he knew. He flops down onto the couch next to you, leather covered couch cushions hissing under his weight, stretching himself across the space like he usually did. You wanted to crawl into his lap and rock against his dick and have your tongues wrap around eachother, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your step-brother, you both needed to resist for a painful amount of time before you gave in, to prove to yourselves you were good, normal people. You didn’t see the point, you’d said it once and you still thought it— JJ was just bein’ a good big brother, helping you out when you need him so desperately. However, the denial of your shared feelings had become routine, and if it’s what it took for JJ to give in and help you, you were happy to play ball.

“S’bad JJ, I shouldn’t say. Doesn’t matter anyway.” You all but huff, turning back to the TV. Your lashes flutter a little when he urgently shifts closer, tilting his head trying to gauge your expression. You kind of wanted to smile, you liked that he cared.

“Wh- yes it matters. Is someone bothering you?” Yes. You. A tidal wave of warmth brushes over your arms, stomach curling tightly in on itself at the thought of JJ being protective over you, teaching someone who was being mean to you a lesson. You bite your lip, and when you turn to look at him again he’s closer than he was before, brow creased waiting for you to speak.

You look at him, look at that little cut on his lip. The graze on his cheek. Wonder how it happened. You exhale slowly through your nose, brows furrowing and you blink a few times as you gather your thoughts. He thinks it’s cute when you do that.

“No one is bothering me. I just… I haven’t been able t’do what you did. As good as you did it.” You slowly spell it out, not wanting to say any of the crude terms, or even specifically have to own up to what you wanted. You said a millisecond-long prayer in hoping he would simply understand what you meant, but when you’d lifted your gaze back up to the blonde boy after shyly staring at your chipped nail polish, he was squinting one eye at you, mouth a little gaped.

“Yeah, uh— y’gonna have to be a touch more specific than that, honey. Know I’m a genius, but I ain’t a mind reader.” He leans back into the couch, relaxing once you told him no one was picking on you.

You clench your fist in your lap, looking up at the ceiling in despair as if the answer to your problems was up there. You drop your eyes back to JJ, the cause and true answer to your problem and brace yourself. “I haven’t been able to… touch myself as good as you did it to me. Tried all night Jayj, even started crying ‘cos I couldn’t do it right. Just feel all… empty since we last did it.” Your bottom lip pushes out and you curl your legs up so you could wrap your arms around them, physically making yourself as small as possible seeing as you’d wanted to disappear into the couch in that moment.

For once, JJ is lost for words.

You can’t handle the silence as he stares at you, contemplating his next action. So, you speak again. “Sorry Jayj… j’st need you to do everything for me.” You look so pitiful, it’s sweet in a kicked puppy kind of way. He’d like to consider himself a helpful kinda guy, infact he knew he was— he wouldn’t be in half the shit John B dragged him into every single day if he wasn’t constantly putting his ass on the line to help him. This was no different, this was risky. He could break up a happy family, ruin things for his dad if he got caught doing this. God, he’s such a troublemaker it made him want you more.

“Look,” He speaks, closing his eyes and fixing his hat on his head. He speaks your name softly and it just sounds better on his tongue than anyone else’s. You squish your thighs together, preparing to be shut down. Your face is all pained, and he realises you’ve come to him practically begging him to touch you because you’re hurting without him. His dick jumps in his shorts. “I’ve been tryin’ t’do the right thing. Y’know? S’not easy. When you walk around looking like that. Looking at me like that. You think I haven’t been thinking about the last time we—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. Was he mad? Your brow creases even more and he thinks you might cry, so he scoots back up to you, draping an arm round you like you’re just a kid who’s being comforted after a scolding. “It’s really that bad?” He tongues at the cut on his lip. You nod, feeling sorry for yourself and he exhales slowly out his nose. He thinks for a bit, and then just stares at you for a while. He think he might even kiss you, but then he speaks. “Lie back.”

You’re happy as a clam when you scoot back on the couch, happy you’re getting some special attention from your step brother. “Oh yeah, all smiles now huh.” He tsks playfully. You lean your back against the armrest, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs just a little. He rubs his hands over his face again in preparation before he turns his body to face you, immediately dropping down his gaze to see the wet patch in your shorts.

“Lord have mercy.” He shakes his head, a hand pressing thoughtlessly to the back of your thigh, spreading you wider. “Whyyyy do you do this to me?” He sighs under his breath, ever so casually pressing a thumb between your clothed folds, fat lips swallowing the fabric of your shorts. You suck in a breath, and release it with a whimper and his eyes leave your crotch to look at you analytically as you do so. “Jesus, alright. Take these off.” he taps the side of your hip, signalling to your shorts and you wriggle out of them, unsure what to do with them so you clutch them between your hands by your stomach. He swipes them from your hold and throws them over his shoulder, busying himself with slotting a couch cushion under your lower back. “Wont be needing those.”

“JJ, might need them incase someone comes in!” You whine, but he ignores you, stroking your thighs and squishing the dough of them, spreading your legs to witness your glossy, honeyed treasure between them.

“If someone comes in, we’re screwed as it is, shorts aren’t gonna save you.” He murmurs, adjusting himself in his pants, rock hard already. “Show me what you were doin’ and I’ll uh, I’ll try and teach you, yeah.” The blonde tried to keep his voice level, feeling better about himself if he kept this purely educational, just helping you learn your downstairs a little better.

You resist a whine, face already hot in embarrassment from asking. He watches your painted toes curl into the couch cushion, knees knocking together as you suck on your bottom lip shyly. “It’s okay, c’mon pop ‘em open again. Not like I haven’t seen it all before.” He cooes, coaxing you with a hand on your knee. You spread your legs, bringing your fingers to your lips and suckling on the tips, getting them nice and wet. You had to be doing it on purpose, this innocent act wasn’t gonna hold up much longer if you kept staring at him with those sweet doe eyes and pouty lips.

“Started like this…” You lower your fingers with a frustrated pout, dragging them down to your clit and jolting slightly when your fingers brush it, sensitive. JJ practically salivates at the reaction, watching you like a hawk, looming over you. He thinks back to the first time he touched you down there, and you got all choked up because it was too sensitive and you got all overwhelmed, clawing at his hand and saying it was too much. He recalls having to calm you down with kisses and tell you to just relax and let it happen. He’s been with quite a few ladies over time, whether it be at pogue parties, ex flings or FWB’s— none quite as sensitive as you though. None quite lovable as you either. He can’t believe he’s thinking that.

He watches you pant, his coarse fingers stroking your leg whilst you grind away at your clit, focused and letting out sweet little squeaks in response. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? Man, you’re so worth all the trouble.” He speaks quietly, intimately. You felt special when he spoke like this, never a time where JJ isn’t revelling in his bravado, loud and jokey, forever performing to deflect from his issues. You got calm JJ, intimate JJ, your very own.

You were already making a mess of yourself, so it didn’t take long until your fingers were curling down toward your hole, spreading your folds as you pushed them downward. You wasn’t too sure if that was for your pleasure, or for JJ’s view but it made you feel good regardless. You sink a finger in, eyes flitting up to watch your step-brothers reaction, clenching around your single digit when his eyes leave your pussy to look straight into yours. “There y’go.” He hums, and you get to work.

He see’s your frustration around 15 seconds in, when you just can’t get the right angle. You fidget, moving your wrist about, tilting your hips up a little— but after a while all you can do is let out a sad whine, looking to JJ for help. He gives in hilariously fast. “Okay, alright, lemme do it.” But he doesn’t start without gently taking your wrist and bringing your fingers to his mouth, briefly sucking off any remnants of you lingering on your wet fingers. “Real sweet, just like I remember.” He muses, making you trickle out more arousal from the way you clenched around nothing.

His breath catches in his throat when he slides his fingers up and down your folds, spreading them and taking the sight of you in. It wasn’t until you spoke up with a pained “Please!” that he swivelled his hand around, fingers pressing against your wanting hole.

“Lemme in, pretty. Thats it, g’nna need you to relax just a little, yeah?” He pushes a finger in and even then you feel the stretch, much bigger than your finger— and you still weren’t used to it. “Thats my girl.” He lets slip, and his eyes flicker to yours guiltily at the sentiment, only to see your brows pinched and jaw slightly agape, ruined cunt fluttering around his finger. “T’aww.” He cooes quietly, returning his eyes to the task at hand.

He lets the ball of his hand smush to your clit so you can grind on it, and at the feeling your knee jerks up a little, letting out a pleased yelp of surprise. “Shh, shh, shh.” His brow creases, a free hand holding your knee to keep you open. “Just take it baby, there you go.” He was really getting into it now, his pupil swallowing his eye, something darker about the way he stared at you in the dim light of the living room. He slides in another finger, and the coil in your stomach is already starting to tighten.

“A-already g’nna cum soon, Jayj!” You whine and he grins like an old happy dog, the brink of a laugh, wide lipped and toothy.

“Thats the point, right?” He teases, but you don’t take him in, eagerly humping your hips up into his hand, small and needy ‘please!’s spilling from your mouth. “What’ja need? I’m right here, babe.” His free hand strokes your waist now, thumb sliding along your skin to soothe you, possibly keep you quiet and calm.

“Closer.” Your lashes flutter, tears welling beneath them making the dark clusters kiss at the corners, bonded by the shimmering drops threatening to fall. “Want you closer.” You’re looking— no, staring at his mouth and he knows what you want specifically. He doesn’t care anymore, what’s a little kissing between step-siblings? Suppose it doesn’t matter when his fingers are buried into your cunt collecting a pearly ring around his knuckles.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He grits his teeth, fingers going at your more vigorously once he leans over you, simply breathing hot air onto your lips for a moment before pushing his own against yours. You feel the cut on his bottom lip skim yours and instinctively your tongue lulls out to lick it, wanting to taste anything he had to offer. You felt depraved, your shame quickly fleeting as JJ drew you closer to your orgasm. You feel so dirty when you suck on his tongue, just the way he taught you last time, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. God, you wanted him deep in your throat, wanted to taste him everywhere, devour everything he had to offer. How could you go from a naive young girl who knows nothing of intimacy to this little desperate slut all from a few kisses and JJ’s magic fingers (As he so charmingly named them) You were starting to think it was in you all this time.

“Good girl. Can feel it comin’, just gotta let it go n’relax. M’here now.” He groans into your mouth, fingers brushing that soft gooey spot deep in your core making you cry out. He had to pacify you with more kisses, wondering what it would take to get you over that finish line. He stalls, leaving gentle kisses across your jaw as you mewl, trying to find the right words to say. He knew it was words you needed, preening and practically folding in half for him anytime the blonde directed any praise towards you at all, even as simple as a “Good job!” in a day to day basis.

It was risky, but he thought he’d try something kind of sick. Test the waters a little.

“Gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t wanna wake up your mom now do you? Probably better off no one sees your big brother helpin’ you get that pretty pussy off, huh?”

You’re clenching so hard it nearly pushes his fingers out. God, you’re both sick.

Just like that, you’re gushing, sweet moans and hiccups swallowed by JJ’s desperate mouth as he silences you by force, letting you ride out that orgasm you so desperately needed. “I know, I know, you’re alright.” He cooes as you do so, dropping kisses in where he can because he know the moment to do so will be gone soon enough, and the guilt will kick in. For now though, he enjoys the moment, enjoys the closeness, and for a second — he can pretend you’re all his, his girl — and not a step-relative. It makes his heart clench.

[justevelynnnn]

sudden love.

night crawler x afab!reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Lots of smut in the second half of this…, PiV, oral s//x, reader is written as a female as well as being chubbier, slightly mentions of reader being insecure, mention of reader being tipsy, a bit of profanity at the end

Summary: Here’s what happens when you start working for the x-men as an intern and you run into a blue demon man 💙

Note: Sorry it’s been a million years since i posted but i just got lazy🙁😕😕😕 anyways live, laugh, nightcrawler

Part 2

You wondered how you got here.

In bed, with the one and only Kurt Wagner. A man who was so focused on being holy and pure…under you, fully naked and eagerly whining. His golden eyes bore into yours as you bounced on him. His tail wrapped around your waist tight. Fingers on each side squishing your thighs…

It might’ve started when you started working for the X-men as an intern. Of course, you first had to pledge to neverrrr share any big secrets you learned or plans shared during meetings. Then you got settled. You had a little office next to Jean Grays’s. Your job was the usual boring intern stuff…following scott around and organizing files and pouring coffee. By week 4, you actually memorized all the x-men’s coffee orders.

Jean Gray liked lattes with a bit of extra sugar. Scott Summers and Logan liked theirs dark. Gross. Morph’s fluctuated, sometimes they wanted a mocha sometimes also dark. Beast liked his coffee extra sugary…

At the end of the day, you didn’t want to necessarily be an X-man. You really just needed some type of job that would except mutants. But they all had a lot of knowledge to share, and you never turned down an opportunity to listen and gain some wisdom.

It wasn’t until you were in charge of setting the danger room schedule when you met him. Did he catch you off guard bamfing behind you? Maybe. Did you feel horrible after especially seeing his tail droop? Yup.

You quickly scrambled to apologize.

“I’m so sorry! You just caught me off guard..!” You say watching him shake his head.

“Oh, it’s fine. I get it a lot. I’m blue..covered in fur…bright yellow eyes…” He says in a nonchalant tone looking at the ground. He also had this strong german accent. He also was possible being sarcastic…

And before you could apologize again he interrupted by introducing himself. His name was Kurt Wagner, or Nightcrawler. Fitting…

You’ve seen him around but mainly in the danger room flipping and bamfing around. He was also ridiculously flexible and you think he has a yoga class? He’s also said to be very devoted to his faith. You then noticed his shiny cross necklace and his golden rosary.

You told him your name and he mentioned seeing you around himself. A sweet little compliment was sprinkled in you guys small talk and then he was gone quicker than he showed up. Though, you still felt bad for your initial reaction to him later that day.

The next time you saw him was a week later in the evening. You just were sitting there reading a book, decompressing after a long day of organizing papers and sending emails, when suddenly BAMF! and now here is Nightcrawler startling you yet again.

“GEEZ!” You shout but not really at him, also dropping your book.

“Am I really that ugly?” Kurt jokes pouting a bit as he perched on the coffee table he landed on.

“No! Just you-“

“Ohhh, it’s fine..i get it..”

He’s clearly joking with you again so you laugh bit. You thank him as he hands you your book and sits next to you. You quietly take in small details of him like his pointed ears or his tail or even the slight indication of pupils in his eyes as he looked at you.

Insert more small talk here and then he’s gone again.

You figured he either really was curious about you or was bored. The idea of him having some crush never crossed your mind. But this was the Nightcrawler we’re talking about! He could have any girl, mutant or human, so why choose an intern? Especially one like you with your thick thighs and plump stomach.

But as time went on, he started to find you daily. He found any reason to speak to you and anything to talk about. Inviting you on evening strolls or even his bible studies which he didn’t mind if you went or not. He taught you how to cook german dishes once and you showed him your favorite hiding spot in the mansion.

It really felt like a spark started. He really grew on you. He was funny, sweet, warm…

His compliments became more frequent too, each one making you blush even more.

Soft touches here and there..

Hugs that lasted longer than the ones before…

Prolonged eye contact…

Then months later the topic of relationships came up. It was embarrassing to admit but you told him you never had one… yet you were a bit shocked to learn he’s had a few back in his day.

“But you’re…?”

“Catholic. I know.”

“And you even..?”

He nods but then smirks. “I was a tad libidinous before…now i just want to…settle. Perhaps even find my soulmate.”

You blush as he stares into your soul on the soulmate part. Could he be referring to..you?

Your time as an intern was wrapping up but everyone loved you so much you just decided to stay. So, you went full time which means more time for you and Kurt to bond. You wondered what they could all mean… his stolen glances and the way he touched you sometimes…

“He likes you.”

“What?!” You say turning around, wide eyed at Jean one evening. Kurt had just bamfed away, but was she standing there the whole time???

“I said, he likes you…a lot.” She smirks. “I know how he gets when he’s in love y’know..i’ve known him for a while.”

“..Love?” You say quietly.

“You’re different too. He’s nervous to say anything.” She slowly comes up next to you and smiles. “But, i can tell you like him a lot too…”

You just blush. Was it really that obvious the whole time?

Could it really be true?

Then, one evening after watching the sunset on the roof and a deep conversation later you two were sharing a bottle of wine. In his words, “It’s fine to indulge in sin sometimes, no?” Probably joking again…

He was big on his faith, for sure. He says it saved him and you could tell. His devotion was admirable.

After the first glass, you already really opened up. Still in your work clothes, but feeling more confident and loose. And by the second, you were a giggling mess. Anything Kurt said either made you blush or laugh. You never felt so alive or comfortable in your skin.

“I wish this could last forever, y’know? This moment…” You sigh as the sun sets. It’s getting darker, the moon getting brighter..stars shining.

“Ja…this was a pretty one. This sunset. ” He agrees with you and scooted closer. “But not as pretty as you, dear.”

“You’re a charmer Kurt…but I dunno…sometimes I wonder why you chose me to spend all your free time with. Like, me specifically. It’s not like I’m one of your gorgeous fan girls..” You play with the hem of your button down vest, it’s untucked now a sign of you being more comfortable.

Kurt doesn’t say anything for a bit. It makes you nervous. So nervous you accidentally pulled a few threads from your vest. You weren’t looking for pity, no. You were genuinely curious. He’s famous, well known. In great shape. Strong morals… It just really bewildered you.

Were you insecure…? Maybe just a bit..who isn’t? You try everyday to be more confident. You were working for the x-men for crying out loud! It was a big deal. But sometimes, you wished you were a bit..different. Slimmer, more graceful even.

“Y/n….” He said finally. It was a soft tone, softer than usual. Gentle…

You don’t say anything but you just look into his eyes.

“I’ve never felt so strongly for a woman before..for anyone before. You truly don’t realize how beautiful you are. Inside and out. There is something magnetic about you that draws me to you…” He takes your hand and kisses it. Your heart explodes. No one has ever talked you like this before.

“Kurt…”

“I’ve been thinking about asking for a while…getting to know you for these past several months has been memorable. I feel we’re forming a strong connection. One that can last is years…y/n, would I…be wrong to ask you to be mine?”

Everything happened so quickly next.

You drunkenly kissed him after he asked you that. In your head that was an answer. You immediately regretted it, feeling you stepped out of line but before you could apologize he kissed you right back. And passionately. Like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. It was getting dark now and bit chilly honestly but the heat of his body against yours kept you warm enough.

Then instead of a hard roof, you were suddenly on a softer surface. A bed.

Kurt’s bed. In Kurt’s room.

“Is it okay?” He asked panting as he pulled back and saw you realize what had happened. “Being here..I mean..”

“Are we gonna…?” You say also panting.

“Do you want to?”

You think for a moment. Were you really going to lose your virginity to an Xman?

He already has a condom in hand by the time you nod. He pulls off his shirt exposing his furry toned torso. He softly kisses you again and you hum. You wondered if it was the alcohol or the way his hands felt on your body was making you feel so good. You allowed him to slowly take off your clothes. Piece by piece.

He was gentle with removing everything, but carelessly threw them on the ground behind him once it was off.

He stopped admired you once you were fully undressed. It made you want to hide behind your hands. The pure look of lust he had in his eyes…eyes that glistened at this point.

He traced a finger along your curves and folds, stopping to kiss some parts. You never felt this way before. It was like he was worshiping you.

He knew you were inexperienced so he took his time. When he was between your legs getting you ready he was ever so tender. He fingered you ever so slowly. Whispering praises as you took his finger because with him one was honestly enough. Then his head was between your thighs as he licked your folds delicately as well, savoring each swipe of his tongue. He had a way of making your legs shake, your back bend and you to sing his name.

When he felt you were ready for him he ever so teasingly slow rolled the condom on and inched slowly inside of you. Of course he made sure you were ready before he started to enter you. It did hurt a bit at first, like an intense stretch with some pressure. It definitely took a while especially given..his size.

But he was patient, and gentle and understanding.

Then he started thrusting. And thrusting. And groaning and moaning and gripping and kissing. The whole bed moved as the two of you moved. He thrusted slowly but deeply, pulling out completely and thrusting his whole length back inside you.

At some point your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. You swore you saw heaven as he hit a spot on the inside.

Every part of you burned hot with pleasure. You barely registered your own orgasm several minutes later and he licked a spot he bit on your neck moments before. He didn’t finish long after, plopping next to you panting. His tail laid across you on purpose. He then smiled goofily at you like he didn’t just have you under him seeing star’s minutes ago.

Your skin was sticky and your legs ached.

But you weren’t done.

You flipped him over and climbed on top of him. He was stunned, but let you as he was once again mesmerized by your nude body. He was a sucker for breasts.

You felt dominant as you straddles him with your thick thighs, positioned him with your entrance and slowly sunk down. Again, it was a stretch at first. Kurt was definitely blessed in the manhood department, but this was a position you knew about from before and you knew it was for more experienced people. Yet, it could’ve been the liquid courage too.

As you started to move, Kurt unraveled. That confident horny man from an hour ago? The one who had you nearly cumming in his mouth from slow flicks with his tongue? Or, hell, a single wink after some dirty joke?

Well, now he’s ready to bust himself from any simple moment you make. His hands rest in the sides of your hips as he helped you but you still did most of the work. Now slightly bouncing more and quicker after growing more confident.

This is who you thought Kurt to be. It’s nice to see this shy and submissive version of him. He tilted his head back as you wiggle against his pelvis. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he held back.

It was mesmerizing to watch him come undone too. The way his mouth was parted, intoxicating noises escaping him. The way his dark hair stuck to his damp fur on his forehead. The way his cheeks darkened ever so slightly from being dominated…

It wasn’t long before he came again. His moans louder this time. Even drawing out your name.

You laid on top of him, knees even more achey than before, heart pumping so hard you swore he could feel it or even hear it.

You two stayed like that for a while. This time done for real. Both exhausted but utterly satisfied.

Kurt eventually helped clean up. He wiped you gently with a damp towel and gave you an oversized shirt to wear to cover up. Even getting you water after you used his bathroom.

“That was…hm..” Kurt said quietly laying next to you once everything was cleaned.

“It was fucking incredible.” You responded quietly. Inside you kept asking yourself…how did this happen?

“..Ja…” He sighs. “Wanna make this a weekly event?”

And after this? How could one not not agree?

[blvdheart]

RESTORING NATURAL BEAUTY

ᡣ𐭩 Pure fluff!! Leon takes your makeup off for you

WC: 700+

NOTE: this is completely self indulgent because i do in fact love doing a full face of makeup it’s so fun (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) um lowkey think the tags are pretty dead right now but it’s okay idm

MASTERLIST

Putting makeup on is always fun, but laziness sets in whenever the time to wash it all off arrives. You wish you could cover your ears and sing ‘la la la, I can’t hear you’ to the knowledge that sleeping with a full face was in fact harmful to your skin. But you couldn’t. The world is becoming more and more advanced but they still haven’t been able to create products that you can sleep with? What a joke.

You’re cuddling with Leon, smushing yourself against his chest, your dolled up face threatening to smudge foundation and powder all over his shirt.

“I’m so tired, Leon. I wanna go to sleep.”

“And what’s stopping you?”

“This.” You say in a grumpy tone, lifting your face and looking up at him through your false lashes.

“Ah. Don’t pout, I’ll take it off for you.” He smiled fondly at you, holding you as he stood up from the bed. Leon was well aware you didn’t want to get up, so he easily scooped you into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bathroom and setting you down on the closed lid of the toilet. You didn’t even have to move an inch or ask him to do anything. What a man.

Leon hadn’t known much about makeup removal prior to dating you, but he was pretty much an expert now. Micellar water, cleanser, face wash, and then tons of kisses to your face was the solution. He was smart, a quick learner, he was sure he even knew how to apply your makeup just the way you liked it at this point just by observing you. His hands were steady, they had to be in order for him to have a good aim when the world was in peril…surely doing your makeup wouldn’t be too difficult, right?

He washed his hands thoroughly then pat them before going over to you, the scent of soap lingered on his skin.

“Close your eyes, princess.” Once you did, he carefully took your falsies off. He always felt a bit uneasy at this step, what if he hurt you or accidentally pulled your actual lashes off? He’d never hear the end of it.

He put some micellar water onto a cotton pad. One of his hands held onto your jaw oh so gently, making you tilt your head back a bit. He couldn’t resist, leaning down momentarily to steal a kiss from your pouty lips, you were always so sulky when you were tired. But his sweet gesture made you smile.

“There’s my girl, you’re so pretty when you smile.”

“So I’m not pretty when I’m not smiling?”

“You’re cute when you’re sulking and pretty when you smile.”

“What about when I’m mad?”

“Adorable. Like…” He tried to come up with an example. “When a kitten tries to scratch at you but it’s too cute to do any damage.”

Silence followed, you couldn’t make a comeback so you just changed the topic instead. Typical.

“Would you ever let me do your eyeliner?” You asked, relishing the way he tilted your face side to side to ensure he was running the cotton pad over all areas of your face.

“Mm…” He hummed in thought, purposely taking a long time to answer. “Yeah, I would. Why? You wanna make me look all pretty like you?”

“You’re already really pretty, silly. I’ve always told you that you’d totally rock the eyeliner look.”

He would. Eye makeup would look amazing on him. Or maybe having that cute cupid’s bow of his be more pronounced with some lip liner. You secretly hoped he would never ask you to put foundation on him though, maybe you were being a bit hypocritical but you internally couldn’t help it! Leon was crafted with so many dreamy details. You were blessed enough to have the chance to see them up close and adore them. The faint set of wrinkles between his brows from the stress of his job that made him furrow his eyebrows all the time, all the little acne scars and skin imperfections he held. You’d be devastated if he hid them all. But the most he has asked is for you to use concealer on his eye-bags.

“Maybe tomorrow then, if you’re up for it?”

“Okay! Um, I might mess up a bit though…my hand gets all shaky.”

“That’s what this micellar water is for, isn’t it?”

He rubbed off all your makeup, admiring all your natural features that shone through. Leon had always been attracted to your talent of applying makeup, having watched you switch styles and improve over time. He always liked sitting with you as you did your makeup, you always acted like you were doing some type of YouTube tutorial and he found it so fucking cute. Like, he would smooch you over and over if he wouldn’t be putting your routine into jeopardy. The surge of affection that rushed through him when he laid eyes on your bare face was indescribable.

Gorgeous. Cute. Pretty. Beautiful. All of the above, he wished there was a word that combined all of those into one.

[crowleysgirl56]

Ok, so I wanted to do a deeper dive into this particular passage of Good Omens:

For context, this is at the climax of the book, they’re at Tadfield airbase, the horsemen have been dispensed with, Aziraphale has his body back, and Satan is about to claw his way out of the pit.

In most of the proceeding chapters involving Crowley it talks a lot about how scared Crowley is. He is very scared of Hell.

One could perhaps say maybe he is scared of them due to The Arrangement, but that is never explicitly stated. I think it has more to do with Hell is bad, and Crowley has spent the majority of the book being yelled at by some entity through the radio or TV telling him how he’s going to be in super amounts of trouble when they get their hands on him. He is just scared of what will happen. When he comes across the book shop burning he doesn’t cry for his lost friend. He curses Aziraphale, and I think it’s because the one person who may have been able to keep him safe and protected from Hell is now gone.

So when he thinks to himself (as shown in the above screen shot) that there is now nothing left for him to lose, this is why I never thought (upon reading the book the first time that is) there were any romantic feelings between him and Aziraphale. I know that technically he had already lost Aziraphale. But by this point he was back again, and back in his body. If there truly were romantic thoughts between them surely the idea of losing him again would come up.

I have read so much fanfiction, some old, some new, and what they all have in common is the detailed inner monologue of Crowley’s turmoil over his feelings for Aziraphale and how he doesn’t feel like he can act on them. In the book we get nothing of the sort, from either character. Even when they’re separated there is hardly ever any description of them thinking of the other except occasionally to frame a short reference to something. Reading the book I never got the impression that there was anything more than two ethereal beings spending time and proximity to each other and doing work for each other for no other reason than they’re essentially a bit lazy.

I think they’re only queer coded for the fact that there’s the line about Aziraphale appearing “gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitric oxide”, and Crowley is, well, very Freddie Mercury coded. Them being seen as gay together and all the gay slurs in the awful racist scenes of Aziraphale body hopping about in culturally indigenous people after the bookshop fire has more to do with the very typical 80’s/90’s trope of “being gay = comedy gold”, than them actually being together romantically.

I think the reason why they were shipped so much after the publication however is for the same reason we ship so many male couples (or female couple) in modern media, why we’ve always shipped them: because of the complete and horrid lack there of, of proper queer representation.

If you’ve ever seen the magnificent Russel T Davies TV series It’s a Sin, there is a wonderful scene where the character Ash starts a job in a school library and the headmaster asks him to go through all the books and find any book that has queer love scenes so they can be removed. Ash then gives a most beautiful and impassioned speech (albeit it turns out the speech is just in his head) of how there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. There is nothing to the point where they are nonexistent. They are invisible. They are not seen. (Or like, something to that effect. I tell you though, it’s bloody brilliant).

So I think that’s rather the point really. You have two iconic characters, albeit supporting bit characters practically, and I think a lot of our minds automatically get drawn to wanting to put them together because of the sheer lack of queer couples. People have been doing it for years from Frodo and Sam, to Harry Potter and Draco (or Ron I guess), to Sherlock and Watson (even before the Benedict Cumberbatch show. Also as an aside let’s not get into how obsessed people got about Sherlock Holmes back in the day when those books were first published. The obsession was the reason Doyle killed the character off the in first place, then after getting letters from people telling him they were literally going to kill themselves, the reasons why he resurrected him again. Don’t tell us that modern day nerds are weird and obsessive. We’ve ALWAYS been like this).

It’s for this reason why queer representation is so god damn important. Why I still support the idea of Good Omens season 3. Because regardless of how the characters were originally intending to be represented in the book, it’s very clear now that they are so much more than “Just friends”. And we NEED that! Whether you subscribe to the idea that they will be physically intimate with each other, the fact remains is they love each other. They love each other immensely. And that comes from years of Terry Pratchett (and the other guy) accepting that canon and telling fans that it’s true. Because Michael Sheen made a choice and held a belief about how he saw his character and then David Tennant followed suit. That literally tens of thousands of fanfiction writers have decided the same.

So that’s my take. I don’t think loving each other was ever intended that way in the book, but in the last 35 years their story has morphed into the ineffable husbands that we now know.

What are your thoughts? Have I rambled on long enough to make any sense? Do you agree? Have I missed something completely obvious and gotten it all wrong? Keen to hear thoughts.

[bikananjarrus]

i'm just going to dive right into it, but i am so deeply upset and mad about cinta's death. not necessarily that it happened, but because i thought it was written so carelessly, and it just feels so deeply unfair to the character, to varada, to vel and faye, to the fans, who waited over 2 years to see cinta's arc only for it to be reduced to that.

of course i'm upset that cinta is dead, and i would like more than anything for her to be alive. i wasn't necessarily surprised by her death (the distinct lack of footage in the trailers was a clue, and then the very obvious foreshadowing dialogue in 2x06 sealed the deal). but i would be a lot less angry about her death if it had been given the proper time and consideration to fully play out and actually meant something for her character.

which, the way it was done - a stray friendly fire blaster bolt - is such a pointless death that that is the point. it was a meaningless death; it didn't have to happen that way. but because the ghorman rebel didn't listen to her and vel, because he thought he knew better than them, his carelessness got her killed. i completely understand what they were going for, and i don't necessarily hate the way she died. especially as this show has continually put emphasis this season on how hard it is to build a rebellion, and the rebel alliance we know.

so i get what they were going for; but to give her 30 seconds of footage where she didn't even speak in the first arc, and then only bring her back for ONE episode in the second arc, just to kill her off in the same one??? it's so disrespectful and unfair and just sloppy writing.

cinta's entire arc over the last two years now has been off-screen. we know nothing about how she hurt vel that caused them to split up in the first place; we know nothing about why luthen was so intent on keeping them apart, aside from personal feelings, even though they clearly work really well together?? (luthen also lets bix and cassian stay together; no shade to bix and cass themselves, but the writing choice to keep the straight couple together and the lesbian couple apart is hm. feels bad.) cinta tells us that she had a terrible injury that kept her down for a "long time," but we get no details other than that, and now we never will. (don't even get me started on the "i'll tell you about it someday" dialogue. anyone who's watched any bit of television knows that that's a dead giveaway for something bad is going to happen. and in a show that historically does subtlety very well, this was not that. it just felt a bit lazy.)

i, personally, am struggling a bit with the pacing this season (namely with the huge time jumps), and i don't think it did cinta (and velcinta) any favors at all. bringing her back, giving her some lovely heartfelt scenes, finally starting to break down her walls a bit and have her reunite with vel, only to kill her off right away just felt so sloppy and lazy. if it was always going to end with her death, it should've been spread out over the ghorman arc. she should've been in more than one episode, she and vel should've gotten the chance to start to really grow back together. and as much as i understand the friendly fire angle, a pointless death has been done before (especially when it comes to queer women). i felt like i've watched this very plot play out a million times before, which makes me so fucking irritated because i know andor writing is better than this! i've seen it!

vel's speech at the end was absolutely beautiful (faye and varada did an absolutely incredible job this episode), but i can't help but wish that a rebellion hero like cinta got more of a heroic death. a more meaningful death. if it had to be done, it should've been done with more respect and weight and not like it was just shoved on at the end to make some point about "rebellion requires sacrifice." both cinta and vel already know the rebellion requires sacrifice! cinta's whole family was murdered. and if this was supposed to be some lesson for vel about how she has to lose people to become a leader, 1) she's already a leader! and 2) she HAS lost people. she lost almost the whole aldhani crew! and you could already tell in this episode that her leadership skills had grown stronger; she was confident and taking no bullshit from the ghormans when talking to them. she didn't need the "lesson" of cinta dying to make her a better rebel. she's already a rebel.

and cinta, who said that she didn't really know herself, deserved the chance to get to find out who she was. what kind of rebel she really was. and preferably, if she'd gotten to live, find out who she was without a rebellion.

[sleepy-fiction]

Weeping Clown Drabble

Weeping Clown x Reader. | Joker x Reader. 🤡🚀

Weeping Clown x Reader. | Joker x Reader. 🤡🚀

syn: an exploration of your relationship with Joker post Hullabaloo game, detailing your relationship's sinful sicknesses and dove-like health.

tgs: fluff, angst, comfort fic, mild sex mentions, violetta lives (f u idv devs), NSFW but not smut, very sweet read! Not proofread

3k Word Estimate

Calm, quiet moments with the weeping clown.

Snuggly cuddling up with him, both of you undressed, with your body pressed against his. Laying serenely on his chest, his hands wrapped tight around your back, your face near his collarbones, the top of your head familiarizing itself with the bottom of his chin.

His prosthetic has long since been abandoned on the floor. He's in no hurry to leave not for a very long while. His breaths are slow and deep, his chest rising and falling, picking up your head and body before carrying them back down low. The warmth of his thighs envelope your legs on either side, and you've turned your hips a bit to give his private area some place. But you love being here, drowning in him.

The smell of his body, face paint, orange scented lotion, and wants of hair spray mingle in with your senses. Setting you at ease to his unique scent. The sounds of his breath the fireplace, and the generator outside the cabin humming away only added to the sunset hues that washed in from the window.

Ever since surviving the manor, the two of you have become so lazy.

Spending lazy morning wrapped up together, not knowing where Joker ends and you begin. And ending your long days the same way you began, only this time with full bellies and drained muscles from hard work.

Weeping was so warm. At times, he was his own heater. You always clocked it as the radiance from his heart ebbing out to the world, and how it melted on to your cheek. The covers were barely on you, they were tangled up somewhere beneath you and him, barely covering your bottom, simply because you couldn't let the muscles there get remotely cold.

And oh, how Joker's long, slanky arms trapped you to his radiance. The contrast of cold metal fingertips drumming up your body made you shudder, but they soon absorbed the mountains of heat the two of you created simply by holding each other.

And oh, how your ears were soon graced with a serene little melody. A raspy hum trailling out his strung body, as his chin shifts above you, all to place a much needed kiss against the top of your head. It's met with delighted chimes from you, chimes that only make him stay, aggresively peppering your head, each time growing stronger with a rough passion.

It's only when you squeak and wiggle your head that he finally comes too, sucking in a huge breath and flipping his head back where it belongs. He releases his sigh hard, as if he were merely drowning seconds ago, and is now coming up for much needed air.

The world felt like it was underwater before he let you in before he met you.

You met shortly after Hullabaloo broke down. He stole the carpentry job position you had been working so hard to get, earning more wages despite how long you had already been working there. You hated him, you were so envious. But then you learned of how sweet he was. How kind and thoughtful, how attentive he was to your needs. Then, almost like magic, the two of you clicked, and fell head over heels in love so suddenly.

You did everything in your power to slow things down, you were scared of love.

But his intimacy, his affections, that soft doey look in his eyes crept it's way around.

Then he got that letter.

He never told you much about that circus he used to work for. Not much other than it burned down, that nobody ever found the culprit. But you saw that look in his eyes. It was a look you had never-ever seen him wear.

It was this stiff, tormented look, like a veteran of war slowly dissociating, slowly shrinking away to horrid memories. He had this weird air about him since getting this letter. Serious, cold, quiet, distant, defensive... And you hate to say it, demented.

He was closing you out. You hated it.

And you hated even more how he decided to play that performance, despite how every part of his body seemed so distressed at the mere mention of it. Its like he didn't know the stress his body was displaying, like he didn't know it was bad.

It was hurting him, chewing away at him deeply, but he didn't even know it.

You knew it.

So you knew you wouldn't let him go alone.

You arrived at the manor with him. Watching him dress himself in this creepy, unsettling way. The makeup and get up of a clown, not the carpenter that you knew. Nothing was wrong about the makeup, it was fun, it was just the unsettling, wounded look in his eyes paired with that crazed, deluded smile of joy strung up on his lips.

He worried you so much. He acted so displaced. As if he were a character in a performance, trying so hard to pull the knives out of others while ignoring the lethal spear lodged in his back. You tried to hold him at night, but he was never in his room. The times you could get him alone, he could barely form coherent sentences, shaking and muttering, eyes lost in a cloud of delusion.

He was scaring you. So you held him, you swarmed him and trapped him there. Even when he tried to leave, ever so oddly in the middle of the night. You woke up (as for some estranged reason, you couldn't sleep at night, and had your own set of terrifying, unexplainable delusions), and kept him.

You wanted to leave early. Everyone there was acting strange. Everyone there was unsettled and holding back. All bottled up, each having their own twitch, their own characters that ignited when they were around eachother. And when the game itself started, you and the spider girl, were forced to sit out as the "audience". The blonde from before, whose name you've slowly begun to forget, liked to called you the "Judge" or an unbiased set of eyes.

You sat in a tent with the spider, watched the blonde dress himself as a clown, and hide away. And Weeping, a girl who you've assumed was "Natalie," entered in shortly after, ignoring both you and the spider; as any character before, an audience should.

Shortly after.

Things unfolded.

You learned the truth about your clown the hard way. And the blonde, the blonde became so obsessed with your "verdict" of Joker.

It was horrifying. Horrifying how his hounding of you started this weird, unnatural reaction from the spider and the clown. They morphed into... Creatures you didn't know.

You were barely able to calm the clown down through your fear, but it didn't stop how Mike too began to warp from his own confusion.

And when your verdict came.

"All of you are guilty."

You said those words not knowing the backstory behind the circus hullabaloo, behind this "Sergei" or anything else. Only knowing the chaos that unfolded between the spider, the clown, and the acrobat of the hullabaloo circus.

Somehow, somehow you were able to end the cat and mouse chase. Somehow, somehow you escaped, tugging along Joker- Joker who looked large and monstrous along with you with all of your might. You fought so hard to bring him with you, fighting tooth in nail, fighting like a rat backed into a corner.

And when you finally arrived home, slept it off, the days following it where filled with the bitter weeping of your beloved clown. He tried to tell you all of it, sober, no longer overcome with whatever it was that the manor made you all feel. But you didn't let him.

You let the chapter be closed. You let the story end there. You felt you didn't need to understand it all, and he didn't deserve to relive it all over again.

So you held him.

You held him until the spring sun sprung up after winter's thick clouds. You took care of him, with him, until the sun's rays helped kindle the little fire in his heart. You encouraged him until your little carpenter returned.

You supported him as he stood slowly on his own too feet again. As he washed away his facepaint of yore, as he peeled back his deathly cloak of shame, leaving himself open and vulnerable. You encouraged him, gave him his space when needed, and moved and breathed, slowly reclaiming your own sanity, your own normalcy.

Your home began to smell like wood, pollen began to flood the late winter air. You supported him until the day he saw the first flower of spring, a lonely daisy poking up from melting snow, and smiled-- truly smiled. He cracked a soft joke, forlorn and filled of admiration, "Un-bud-lievable..."

As daisies always were his favorite flower.

Then, on, things began to weave together. The sun had turned a cheek and showed his face again. And though you knew he felt undeserving of it, you were so proud, so proud he lived yet another day with you. So proud of the way he bounced again, the way color filled his cold winter cheeks.

The sounds of sneezing and tissue blowing filled your lonely little cabin, despite his misery, it brought you boundless joy. And God, you were ever so proud, and ever so overjoyed, by the string of flower-related jokes. By mid-spring, your pride mellowed out into a new feeling.

A yearning no longer satisfied by long hugs. Byt tart kisses, or soft cuddles.

Soon, most of your mid spring evenings were filled with passion and almost frantic, love-making.

The kind that was crazed, like love birds on their honeymoons, burning with a mutual desire, and an overwhelming acceptance. A connection, a fire that complemented your compatability, your natural, almost primal, sexual synergy. The desires of your nights were long, chaotic, arranging in an array of vibrant stars and vivid colors. Vivid new ways to explore eachother, vivid ways to love and feel. From the teary eyed, sobbing, sweet and gratefully adventures, to the wild, crazed, barbaric takeovers, he felt whole. He came out healed from each one. Gaining more understanding. No. More acceptance of himself, despite the intensity of his sins.

And by the time the stormy, rainy April came around, Joker could finally say, with full confidence that he was truly himself again.

All thanks to you, guiding him in the way of intimate, unconditional love. Love that was loyal, love that was all his, love that rewarded, love that took yet never destroyed, love that changed yet never rejected, love that was soft and quiet. Love that was gentle and accepting.

Love of an easy yolk.

So here he confident lays beneath you, warming up your normally frosty body, after a thunderstorm that's aftermath clicked on the low, tidy hum of your home's generator. Laying uncomfortably beneath stringed sheets, yet too lazy to get up, knowing how his back will be accosted. But loving every second, of your lovely, purring body, that was devoted only to him.

How lucky was he, to be saved by you. To feel your feather-falling mercy and selfless support, even when you fail to understand him, you over tender unconditional care. Care of which, you claim, he first gave you endlessly. Something he will forever fail to see. So he continues to drown you in the same gentle, ever-budding, open ears and providing arms.

Warming you with his natural summer sunshine, the way you, his tender spring moonlight, loved.

Humming, joking, professing to you, everlasting.

Holding the key to your very essence, and supplementing the cry of your body.

His dearest, his love, his savior.

He swallows thickly, staring at the ceiling, feeling blood begin to rush to his downstairs.

Ah, who was he kidding? He was no poet, simply a horny, obsessive clown with a knack for carpentry work.

And damn.

His face flushes, his hips shift.

Your soft body was wonderland all over.

So, as any predictable fool would, Joker stutters out of his sweet cleft lips, "My d-dear... Make love with m-me yet again."

And you're ready in seconds.

[gyusimp]

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨 [𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭]

ᵀʸˢᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᴺᔆᶠᵂ ᵛᵉʳˢⁱᵒⁿ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ! ⁽ᵁ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ⁾

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I feel that Kenji's affection will depend on a few factors such as his mood and the length of time he's been in a relationship with you. As for the first one: If he feels stressed from work or in a bad mood, he'll probably pull away and you'll be the one to initiate some affection to make him feel better, which works most of the time. If he's really upset about something, then it would be better to give him space but that almost never happens, you usually help him feel better. And the second one: Kenji would be very clingy. If your relationship is just starting, it's probably still a bit difficult for him to show his affection because he'd still feel very shy but as the months go by he'll become more confident. The more time has passed, the more confident he'll feel and then he won't be able to be around you without hugging you from behind, holding your hand or touching your hair. Also, lots of short kisses just because.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He would be a very reliable friend, you can tell him anything that is happening to you and he will always listen to you and tell you what he thinks or give you advice if you ask him. Kenji is someone who would answer your messages almost immediately if he is not busy or call you on the phone to see how your day is going and stuff like that. He would be a very considerate friend and always remembers little details about you like your favorite genre of music, how long you have been at your new job or what time you usually go to sleep.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He LOVES to cuddle. Most of the time he will be the big spoon but he also loves to feel you hug him from behind with your arms and legs and then roll over to lay his head on your chest. Something he often does is if he wakes up in the middle of the night and sees that you are a little far away from him in bed, he will simply grab you by the waist and pull you really close to him to hug you and wrap his legs around you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think he's used to getting help with things and Mina's company could make him a little lazy sometimes but not too much, he still lives alone and must be a responsible adult for himself but if he decides to live with you then all the housework will be shared between the two of you and if there are things he's not very good at like cooking, he'll do his best to make you proud of him (always tell him how proud you are, he loves your little encouragements too much and secretly needs your approval to know that he's doing well).

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's someone with a high ego, so in front of people, interviews or similar things he won't even mention the subject, he'll say that everything is still fine with him and he'll only focus on baseball and himself. But what happens when he gets home? He won't stop reading all your messages because he secretly still saves your chat, it's inevitable for him to cry in frustration sometimes and if the breakup was his fault he'll blame himself every day. It would be hard for him to get over you and even though he doesn't have any friends, he wouldn't have anyone else to talk to about how he feels, and he usually keeps everything he feels to himself to avoid feeling or showing himself vulnerable.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I've thought that it's a subject that wouldn't be taken lightly at all, if he starts a relationship then it's because he knows the person so well that he even has intentions of getting married. He's not one for dating or casual encounters, he'll ask you to be his girlfriend after many months/years of friendship and knowing every little thing about you which makes him fall in love with you even more so when you're a formal couple he's already thought about marrying you one day and sometimes you both talk about it. He's not afraid of that kind of commitment so it depends on how everything goes during your relationship for him to ask you to marry him, it could take 8 months or 2 years you never know.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s absolutely such a gentleman, we can even see in the movie how he considerately leaves money and pays the bill at the restaurant before running off to find Emi in the city even though it’s unforeseen. GOD! IS THERE ANYTHING THIS MAN DOESN’T DO RIGHT!? and he’ll unconsciously do all that kind of cheesy stuff with you. He’ll open doors for you to go through before him, he’ll pull out a chair for you to sit on, he’ll make you walk on the safe side of the sidewalk while he stays on the curb, and a lot of forehead and hand kisses at random times when you’re in a public place and he’s reserved enough to kiss you on the lips.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He doesn't like hugs. He likes YOUR hugs, that's the difference. He seems like someone who might get uncomfortable with a lot of physical contact but if it's you then he has no problem with it. He'll let you pull him into your arms whenever you want and stay still, he also loves to hug you from behind when you're doing something else.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It won't be quick, maybe at first he'll feel a bit afraid to say it even though he really feels it because he's afraid it will be too quick but when he does it he won't think about it so much. He'll let you know and after that he'll feel calmer and he won't stop telling you every chance he gets.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don't see Kenji being a jealous or possessive boyfriend and since you love him so much you wouldn't do anything to make him jealous just to annoy him. If he does get jealous it would be because of people around you that seem to have intentions towards you or if some random guy sees you on the street, he'll hug you by the shoulders or put one of his hands right inside the back pocket of your jeans you know, little gestures to say "she's mine".

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

If he's tender, his kisses are usually short and soft but if he's more needy then he'll capture your whole mouth with his in an intense and needy way without letting go. He really likes to kiss your lips but if he can't do it for certain reasons then your cheek and forehead are still in his ranking, he loves to kiss your collarbones or stomach in more intimate moments. He likes you to kiss his lips of course but you always provoke a little tender laugh in him when you kiss the bridge of his nose or his cheeks in an unsuspecting way. He also feels how his chest jumps when you kiss the palm of his hand.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't really like children, you can see the look on his face when Chiho interrupts the interview at the beginning of the movie BUT he doesn't dislike all children. He might smile sometimes when he sees a baby doing something cute on TikTok or on the street, well behaved children who don't cause trouble maybe that type is more tolerable for him. Sometimes he thinks about what it would be like if he had his own children with you, they would be very spoiled but he would raise them well.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He is a busy man so most of the time he wakes up very early to exercise and train but when he has free time he takes advantage of every minute by your side. Our man hates mornings! So he is always very grateful when he can afford to sleep after 6:00 am and it is much better when you are asleep next to him and you are the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I think for some reason Kenji has a really high resistance to staying up late so if you're not sleepy either you two will probably just settle down on the couch or in bed to watch a few too many episodes of the series you started watching together or movies as well. When he's asleep his sleep isn't that heavy since he has to be alert for the kaiju alarm so if you get up to go to the bathroom, get a drink of water or whatever he'll wake up and ask you what happen. The good thing is that he can fall back asleep after that.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He's a little distrustful, not because he doesn't trust you but because he's afraid of what you might think of him. Remember when Emi breaks her arm and his dad comes to help him? The first thing Kenji says is "I don't want you to scold me, judge me or criticize me" (Something like that) So our pookie is always aware of what the people important to him might think of him about the things he does. Not to mention that it's quite difficult for him to express his deepest feelings or thoughts because he thinks that being vulnerable is a bad thing and he shouldn't allow it but after a few months of your relationship have passed and you've decided to tell him private or personal things then that gives him confidence to try it too little by little. He's grateful that you've trusted him to open up emotionally so he wants to show you that you're just as important but I feel like he wouldn't do it in less than 1 month.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has no patience with himself, he wants everything to go well for him always but when it comes to you he is the calmest and most patient person in the world. Imagine that you are someone with zero knowledge of baseball, you have barely seen a few minutes of a game on TV and you never understand what the hell is going on. Then as someone more than an expert on the subject, he will sit down with you and explain everything in detail, looking for examples of a topic in which you are an expert to make you understand it better and so the next time you see one of his games you can talk better about the subject. It doesn't matter if it is something other than baseball that he has to teach you, he will do it with great pleasure and will never get irritated with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers EVERYTHING. Your birthday, anniversary, first date, first kiss, first I love you. He has a good memory lol plus he schedules details like that in Mina so she reminds him days before if he has plans to buy you something nice. You never have to worry about him forgetting an important date in your relationship, he's always the first text on your phone to wish you a happy birthday (he texts you right at 12:00).

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Maybe it could be his first kiss, you would be the first person he has kissed so being able to experience it with you makes it even more special. Sometimes that memory comes to his mind and makes him smile immediately involuntarily longing to be close to you as soon as he can.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Kenji is very protective of you, but not too much so that it's suffocating. As Ultraman, he must take care of all of Tokyo, but you will always be his priority, although he worries that despite being a superhero, his lack of experience in that area is not enough to keep you away from all dangers, which often distresses him. He will always be there for you, from a serious danger where he has to protect you as Ultraman to running towards you to comfort you after hearing you scream if there was a bug too close to you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

We know that he is someone who is financially stable (too stable) so he never has limits when it comes to you. Sometimes you are at work and you receive flowers from him, just flowers, but they came from the most expensive store in all of Japan. Sometimes you point out something nice in the mall just because but he ends up buying it for you so now you take good care of what you look at because everything you touch ends up being a gift for you later and you don't want him to think that you are interested in his money. You have told him that he doesn't have to do it but he continues. The dates are regularly at 5 star restaurants, weekends at the beach or abroad or more private clubs, mostly so that you can know more new things that maybe you couldn't afford to do so often but a date at the movies or at the bowling alley at the mall is never frowned upon.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He can be a bit obsessive about baseball sometimes, he cancelled a couple of dates to attend important practices or things like that, making you mad. You'd argue about it sometimes but he'd always try to make it up to you and apologize.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He looks like a fucking supermodel 24/7 who cares way too much about his grooming. It would be very hard for him to ever not smell like his usual perfume, even when he's sweaty after a game you can smell the manly scent of his deodorant. This man's bathroom is full of skincare products that he puts on his face every morning and every night before going to sleep, he has a sleek black jewelry box where he keeps his earrings, bracelets, chains and rings neatly and his closet is organized to perfection by areas where he always plans each of his outfits meticulously looking at himself in the mirror before going out after he's styled and brushed his bangs well. I can swear he has one of those little hair straighteners.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I think Ken might suffer from abandonment syndrome thanks to his parents so yes, he is very emotionally dependent on you. Maybe he notices it, maybe he doesn't but there have been times where he doesn't feel well and would like to be with you for comfort but he can't because you are away at home and it is now night or because you are at work. He moves his leg repeatedly and tries to think of something else until he sees that you have gone out for your lunch break and he can call you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He's the kind of boyfriend who loves to drop you off or pick you up from work/college and take you on his motorcycle. He puts his helmet on you and drives slightly faster so you hold on to him tighter. He also really likes it when he comes back from a fight with a kaiju and you're here, willing to offer to take care of him and give him a massage or help him relax and heal his wounds.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like to kiss you on the lips in public or act too clingy with you in front of anyone else. First, because he thinks it's tacky or cheap and second, because he thinks it's something more intimate between you two and he feels judged if he did it and someone saw it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He takes a bath before bed, always. When he gets home he gets into that damn tub with ice and then takes a warm shower, does his skincare and puts on comfortable clothes to sleep. He usually looks at his phone until late until you tell him to go to sleep already. Since he is tired, it doesn't take him long to fall asleep so he turns around a few times in bed and falls asleep but it takes him too long to get up in the morning since that's when sleep and the warm feeling of waking up tangled up with you hits him the hardest.

[reixtsu]

Chapter 1: Unexpected Encounter

Next Masterlist

The city was alive with activity. Neon lights painting the skies in hues of blue and violet. The hum of airships overhead blended with the cacophony of voices in the crowded market square below. For a Stellaron Hunter, such chaos was both a blessing and a curse-it offered cover but also countless opportunities for things to go wrong. Very wrong.

You stood near a vendor stall, your eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Elio's script had been vague, as always, leaving you to fill in the gaps. The mission was to retrieve the data drive, avoid detection, and regroup. Sounded easy enough, but you wished that there were more details within the instructions.

Behind you, Kafka leaned lazily against a lamppost, her lilac eyes glinting with nonchalant amusement. "You're too tense, y/n," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. "Relax. Everything's going according to the script."

You shook your head. "I know, but you're not the one with a five-year-old son to look after," you muttered, keeping your voice low.

She chuckled softly, her gaze flickering to where your son, Hajime, stood beside Silverwolf. The boy was wide-eyed, captivated by the holographic displays at a nearby stall.

"Silverwolf's got him," Kafka assured you. "Blade and I will cover the east quadrant. Focus on the task at hand, alright cutie?"

You nodded, though the unease of a mother twisted in your chest. Hajime was your world, the one part of your life that isn't dictated by Elio's vision. You'd do anything to protect him-even if it meant walking away from the man who shared the same magenta and cyan eyes.

The mission began smoothly enough. You slipped through the crowd, your every move calculated like a ninja's. Blade and Kafka disappeared into the east quadrant, starting their part of the script. Silverwolf stayed behind, her fingers flying across her hacking device as she worked to intercept the rogue agent's signal.

"Hajime," you said, placing your finger into the little speaking device that was well hidden in your ear. "Stay close to Silverwolf. No wandering off."

"I know, mom," He replied, his tone both obedient and slightly exasperated as he sat next to Silverwolf, watching as she continued her job.

For a while, everything seemed fine. Hajime stayed within sight, his curiosity tempered by your warning. But then the stall selling glowing crystals caught his attention.

"Silverwolf, can I look?" he asked, his voice tingled with excitement as he stared at her, practically begging.

She hesitated, glancing at her device then back at him while her fingers kept typing. "Just stay where I can see you," she finally said.

Hajime eagerly nodded then darted off.

Minutes passed, and you felt a flicker of unease. After infiltrating the building and finishing your part of the mission, you went back to Silverwolf. She was sitting, legs crossed as she was preoccupied with whatever she was doing. Stretching, you walked up to her, patting her back until you realized something. 

"Where's Hajime?" You asked, your voice sharp enough to have Silverwolf look at you.

"He went exploring," she said blankly, her gaze scanning the crowd to look for the boy's fluffy blond hair.

Panic surged through you. With a sharp glare, you turned and pushed your way through the market, your heart hammering in your chest and making its way up your head, causing you to have a pulsing headache.

Aventurine had no particular reason to be in the fun part of the city other than the fact that he was bored. His work often brought him to places like this-a bustling, neon-soaked market in some distant planet. But tonight the atmosphere intrigued him. Surely the higher ups wouldn't mind if he lingered in the area for a bit.

He strolled through the square with a calm, almost lazy grace, his sharp, neon and magenta eyes taking in the sights. Vendors called out to passersby, hawking everything from the rare spices to glowing trinkets. Children darted between stalls, their laughter cutting through the noise like a sharp melody.

Then that's when he saw him.

A boy, no older than five, weaving through the crowd with the confidence of someone much older. Aventurine paused, his gaze narrowing. There was someone about that child, something oddly familiar that he couldn't place a finger on. Then that's when he saw it. The boy's eyes.

Avgin eyes.

Ones that looked a little too identical to his own.

Realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, but he pushed the thought aside, approaching the boy cautiously.

"Hey there," he said, crouching to the boy's level. "You seem a little far from home."

Hajime looked up at him, his expression wide from curiosity. "I'm not far. Mom's around here somewhere."

Aventurine raised an eyebrow. Why wasn't the boy at least accompanied by his mom then? Was his mom off drinking at a nearby bar or something? "Does your mom know where you are?"

The boy shrugged. "Probably. She's busy. Silverwolf's supposed to be watching me, but she got distracted. Sooo I walked away!"

The name Silverwolf sent a jolt through Aventurine. he knew that name, who didn't? Silverwolf, one of the Stellaron Hunters, a bounty with so many credits for her head. He studied Hajime more carefully, giving him a smile.

"What's your name?" Aventurine asked, keeping his tone light.

"Hajime," the boy said proudly. "Who are you, sir?"

Sir? Aventurine smiled, charmed despite himself. "Just someone passing through. How about we find your mom together?"

Hajime considered for a moment, humming dramatically before giving Aventurine a huge grin. "Okay."

Aventurine couldn't help but genuinely smile as Hajime peppered him with questions. The boy was sharp, his curiosity knowing no bounds.

"Do you live here?" Hajime asked as they walked through the busy market.

"No," Aventurine replied, his eyes wandering off but his peripheral vision on Hajime. "I'm just visiting for a while. How about you?"

"I don't live anywhere," Hajime said matter-of-factly. "Mom says we're always on the move because of her work. But she always makes sure I'm safe."

Aventurine hummed nonchalantly, feeling a pang of something he couldn't quite name. Pity? "She sounds like a good mom."

Hajime nodded enthusiastically. "She's the best! She's really strong, and she knows everything. But she gets grumpy sometimes."

The older male chuckled. "I see. And what about you? What do you like to do?"

the boy tilted his head, thinking. "I really like learning about stars and planets. They's so cool! Mom tells me stories about them all the time. Do you have any good stories, sir?"

Aventurine smiled. "Many, Hajime, like-" He began to ramble on about a star that burned so brightly that it burned the planets around it. Hajime listened intently, his eyes only growing wider with wonder.

You found Hajime just as Aventurine was finishing his story. Relief crashed onto you like a tsunami, but it was quickly replaced by dread as you saw just who he was with.

Aventurine.

He looked up, his gaze locking onto yours. Time seemed to slow, the noise of the market fading into the background. His expression shifted-first surprise, then it morphed into something deeper, something more intense.

You forced yourself to move, your steps graceful despite the chaos inside of you. "Hajime," you said, voice calm but firm. "I told you not to wander off."

Hajime ran to you, his small arms wrapping around your leg. "Sorry mama. But look!" He looked up at you, grinning as he pointed at Aventurine. "He helped me look for you."

Aventurine just stood there, his charm seeming to radiate off him. His gaze never left yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's been a while, hasn't?" He said, his tone laced with something unreadable, making your heart jump a little.

You met his gaze evenly despite the pounding of your heart. "Indeed. Thank you for watching him."

Hajime tugged on your sleeve, momentarily bringing you back into the present away from Aventurine. "Mom, he told me a story about a star! Can I hear more? Please?"

You smiled faintly, your mask firmly in place. "Maybe another time."

Aventurine chuckled, his usual charm sliding into place as he slipped his hands in his pocket. "I'd be happy to. But first, I think your mom and I need to have.. a little chat."

Author’s notes: Here you all go! Your rich sugar daddy baby daddy! I love his gay ass so much… I might do those poll votes on how the story progresses in the future, but let me know if you’re interested so far! I’d love to hear from you!

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[neuroprincess]

Criminal Minds - How They Cuddle (Preferences)

Classification: Fluff

Pairing: Alex Blake, Elle Greenaway, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia and Tara Lewis

Warnings: None

Word count: +500

Alex Blake

- She may not look it, but loves and values physical contact and this makes her a big fan of cuddling, especially on mentally exhausting days. Alex often lies on the sofa in the living room, on the sun lounger when it's hot, with a book in hand, just waiting for you to join in, once that happens she'll have her head lying against your chest, arm under your body, free hand stroking hair or gently rubbing your back while she reads silently. 

Elle Greenaway

- She's like a cuddly bear, barely able to keep her hands off you for long and this can make her seem a bit clingy, but it's hard not to give in when she makes that cute puppy face. Elle loves to have her arm around you in any situation, stroke all your soft spots and occasionally tease you with a few tickles. If you are shorter, she will delight in laying the head on top of yours and smelling hair, fingers tracing invisible words on your skin. 

Emily Prentiss

- Calm and intimate moments are by far her favorite, understandable considering the chaotic and tense nature of her job. Some days, Emily just wants to lie down and be held being the little spoon, feeling the comfort and tranquillity that the warmth of your body offers. Other days she wants to be face to face, running her fingertips over your face, memorizing and appreciating every detail as you talk about respective days, sharing the good and the bad things.  

Jennifer Jareau

- In previous relationships, the blonde didn't have the habit of cuddling so often, maybe it was the dynamic or the trying to juggle work, but with you it's a necessity. There's nothing better than coming home, having a hot bath and throwing herself into the arms of her lover in bed, arms wrapped around your waist and head lying against chest, feeling your heart beat, listening to the breathing until both fall asleep. The boys are very affectionate, so spending lazy family mornings on the bed/sofa becomes habitual, sometimes watching animations. 

Penelope Garcia

- As well as loving pet names and PDA, obviously Penelope would love to cuddle. She's vibrant, expressive and very affectionate, plus has an inexplicable obsession with your hands, she'll always be rubbing it and drawing imaginary shapes. In the privacy of home, she'll have you in her arms at any moment, hugging behind the back while preparing dinner, legs entwined and stroking soft spots on the skin when watching series, etc. And it's not as if work stops her, at the first opportunity Garcia puts you on her lap or sits on yours, holding hands, intimate conversations that make the days better.  

Tara Lewis

- In contrast, at first she's not so keen on cuddling for no reason and gradually learns to love these moments. Tara even creates a kind of ritual, turning off the light or closing the curtains to leave the room pleasantly dark, putting on some soft background music and grabbing a blanket to cover you both up, there's nothing better than lazy afternoons in each other's arms. Her fingers stroking your hair as she gives you soft kisses on the forehead and cheeks, sharing a glass of wine between loving words. 

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