#You have to pry and coax it along

[hearts4hughes]

dealer!rafe eating bambi out? something super nasty and yum 🤭

note: i’m clawing at the bars of my enclosure!!!

warnings: mdni ; oral (f-receiving) ; slight corruption ; dirty talk

you knock on rafe’s door, a wad of cash in your pocket, and your heart beating out of your chest. this was your fifth transaction with him, yet you’re nerves haven’t subsided.

he opened the door, a sly smirk on his handsome face. “my favorite customer,” he greets, ushering you inside. “been waiting for you to show up.”

you blush, your head down memorizing your ballerina flats. the tension was palpable, making your skin hot to the touch. “h-here.” you hold out the cash, your manicured fingers gripping the bills.

he shook his head, brows furrowed in amusement. “bambi, what did i tell you?”

you shudder at the pet name.

“that i don’t have to pay…”

“what else.”

“…that i’m the only person on the entire island that gets this deal.”

“mhm,” he walks closer to you, grabbing the money, and putting it in the back pocket of your jeans. his hand stays tucked away, holding the curve of your ass. “it’s true, you’re the only customer i treat like this. everyone else has to do transactions with me near the cut, and if they don’t bring my money, they don’t get shit,” he towered over you, his free hand tracing shapes on the exposed skin of your hip. “but not you. i’d never make you come down there. ‘s not safe for a girl like you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” your usual doe-eyed gaze sharpens for just a second before you blink it away. your lashes flutter innocently, but the way you tilt your chin says otherwise.

he tilts his head back, chuckling. “there she is; there’s that little fire.” his hand moves from your hip down to your other pocket, slipping inside. your hands clutch into his biceps. his gaze flick between your lips and your round eyes. “but, i think it’s time you pay up.”

you blink. “what? i-i didn’t bring more money than this. i can’t possibly pay that much back today,” you rambled, your bottom lip quivering as tears threatened to spill over.

with a devilish smirk, rafe brought his finger to your lips and shushed you. “not that kind of payment, bambi.” your lips part as an unexpected heat builds between your thighs. “well, it’s only fair for me to get a special payment considering you’re a special client, right?”

you nod slowly.

“you willing to pay up, sweet girl?” he cocked an eyebrow. “or is this going to be the end of our…” a beat of silence passed as he thought of a word to describe the two of you. “relationship.”

you nod again, more eagerly than the first.

“i need to hear you say it.”

“i’ll pay.”

he hummed, removing his hands from your pocket, fingers tracing along your jawline. he tilted your chin up, latching his lips onto your jugular. he nipped at the skin, creating a bruise before coaxing it with his tongue. you whimpered, fingernails creating crescent mark indents on his biceps.

he grunted. “i’d give up anything to hear you make that noise for the rest of my life.” he dropped to his knees in front of you, undoing your jeans, leaving you clad in your white top and pink lace panties. “you’re just adorable right down to your panties, huh?” he grins, his fingers running over the wet patch on your bottoms.

your thighs instinctively press together. he tuts as his large hands wrap around your tiny thighs, prying them open. in one swift motion, your panties are ripped into two and disposed somewhere in his house.

you shiver at the feeling of cold air hitting your warm cunt.

“you’re so wet and i haven’t even touched you.” he growls at the sight of your soaked core. arousal drips down your thighs. he brings his finger up to your thighs, collecting the drips of your liquid, and licking them clean. he hums in content, looking up at you hungrily before swiping his tongue along the plush skin of your legs. “poor thing, i bet you’re so needy for me. aren’t you?”

“yes, rafe! need you right now.” your head hits the wall as you moan, his tongue pleasuring you in every place but where you need it most.

“such a needy little slut.” he taunts and finally leans forward, licking a stripe up your core. fire courses through your veins at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue.

he grunts, devouring your sweetness before moving up to your swollen bud. he circles tightly around your clit, forming a knot in your stomach. he’s a man starved— red blush painting his cheeks, face wet with your juices, and eyes wide and dark.

“you taste like a fucking dream.” the vibrations of his raspy voice send sparks of pleasure shooting through you. he moves away from your bud, taking two fingers and spreading your cunt, revealing your tight hole. he smirks, “gonna stretch you out so good, but not today, bambi.”

he lowers himself once again, darting his tongue into your hole. he licks your walls, curling, and slurping, before fucking you with his tongue.

the scene is dirty: an innocent girl with her hands tangled in the dangerous boy’s hair; his head between her soaked thighs; his hands gripping her plush skin as she screams incoherent sounds.

finally, as he bites down on your clit, you come undone. your juices flow onto his tongue and chin. he uses his tongue to clean you up, not wasting a drop.

he stands up, wiping his mouth with his shirt and lifting you up. his hands grip your thighs and your bare pussy presses against his shirt. you nuzzle into his neck as he walks towards his room, placing you down onto his bed.

“you’re going to be the death of me, bambi.”

[bloodstainedsapphic]

coffee shop fluff with ellie williams rahhh

pitter patter. the slosh of each step onto the sidewalk, the missteps into murky puddles during the drizzle, threatened to seep through your fuzzy socks and erase the last barrier between you and the storm above.  

the forecast had promised sunshine—what a load of shit that was. a pleasant excursion into town with your best friend ellie had turned into a zig-zagging mad dash between stops, making the chill vibes more fickle as you tried to have fun while evading a sniveling cold. the day still managed to be something close to perfect. because, at the end of it all, you were with ellie.

seeking some reprieve from the onslaught of trickling rain, you both slipped into an equally busy coffee shop. despite all the action, you sighed in relief as the inside brought a coziness the foggy, slate-grey spring weather had not granted. it was a steady crowd—everyone else must have had the same idea, trying to escape the lousy weather.  

“whatcha want?”  you asked ellie, who was raking a hand through her auburn hair, now darkened to a deep chestnut from the rain.

“anything but coffee.”  

“got it.”  

you took ellie’s entirely too vague order and stepped ahead to the counter, purchasing yourself a latte and ordering the barista’s special recommendation of tea for ellie.  

as you waited, elbow leaned against the corner of the countertop, your eyes wandered, quickly spotting ellie on the far side of the café. she’s holding what appears to be a comic, plucked from shelves that sat riddled with trinkets, purchasable knickknacks, and dime-a-dozen books.  you quietly head her way.

“did you find the one comic in this café?” you asked, leering over her shoulder, eyeing the yellowed pages ellie was flipping through.  

she snorted, barely sparing you a glance. “obviously.” she traded in the zine for her tea, taking it from you and blowing on the top to cool it down.   

you and ellie made your way to a small circular table near the windowsill, watching the droplets trickle down the glass. it was peaceful, even if you were both wet as stray dogs at this point of the day.  

“you know,” you started, initiating a random topic to keep the momentum going. “i don’t mind the city.”  

ellie shrugged. the city didn’t seem to bring the same twinkle to her eye as it did to you. she leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers idly against the side of her cup.  

“eh. it’s a lot sometimes,” she admitted, “but… not bad if you know where to look.”  

you nodded. “exactly.”  

then you paused, sensing a layer underneath ellie’s words. your eyes narrowed mischievously as you leaned in slightly, like you were coaxing a secret out of her.  

“wait. do you have some mystery spots you haven’t told me about?”  

ellie shrugged again, her false coyness meant to taunt you, rile you up—her favorite pastime, it seemed. “dunno.”  

you groaned, blowing on your drink to soothe yourself, taking a small sip before really grilling her.  

“what are you talking about?”  

ellie hummed noncommittally, slowly swirling her cup in her hand, acting as though the conversation wasn’t all that interesting.  “wouldn’t you like to know.”  

“ellie, you fucking suck.”  

ellie merely smirked, clearly enjoying your weak attempt at prying an answer from her. she took a slow sip of her tea, looking entirely unbothered—maybe even a little smug—as you steeped in your frustration.  

“if we were dating, i’d take you to all the best places…” she mused, her inflection practically begging you to cling to and make a deal of her teasing words.  so you did. “what’s stopping you?” you fired back, playing along.  

in your pride, you caught the way ellie visibly stiffened, her lips pressed to the rim of her cup, frozen mid-sip as if she might choke on your reply.  

“…excuse me,” she muttered, a bit gruff, her eyes flicking toward you as if unsure whether to scoff or take you seriously.  

“you heard me.” you mirrored her energy, wiggling your brows, acting as if the rising tension wasn’t threading through your every last nerve. there had been plenty of cheeky flirts and lingering touches before this titular moment with ellie—she was your pretty best friend. you’d be ‘down’ if she asked. but the possibility had never been quite so direct as this.  

“mmmh, i’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, trying to sound stoic before finally taking that sip she wanted. you caught the quiver in her voice and the rose-petal blush on her cheeks, however, shining through the sheen of rain still clinging to her face and hair.  

“nice.” you grinned, pleased with her words. “when can we start?”  

“start what?”  “dating. so you can show me those so-called best places..duh.” ellie finally, actually choked on her tea.

[xazse]

we need more merman satosugu 🙇‍♀️‼️. HEAR ME OUT what if it was both of them who is the dominant one and they team up on reader

Warnings: Dom!SatoSugu + Merman!SatoSugu + fem!reader + creampie + pussy-eating + smut + notproofread + little bit of SatoxSugu + cumming untouched

Notes: this probably wasn’t as “Dommy” as I’d liked but I really hope you enjoy it regardless!!!

You’ve found out a new place where you, Satoru and Suguru can relax, you all sit upon the shore with their tails still submerged in the water along with your legs. It’s nice to see them enjoying the sun and preening at the attention you give them.

You get to see them even closer, you get to see their tails halfway out of the water and just how much they shimmer and glitter when the sun bounces off them. Such pretty blue and purple hues being expressed. You also get to see their slits where their sensitive areas are closed, it makes you think about how long it had been since the last time you had sex with the both of them. It was damn near magical how good you felt that day and they probably do share the same feelings.

Suguru is stealing glances at you and Satoru, it’s cute. He seems to want you but is too shy to ask out rightly. Satoru is quite frankly fed up with the tense atmosphere (he’s the only one thinking it’s tense) he can feel his body slowly growing more and more hot by the second. Your attire isn’t helping either: deciding to go with a tank top that squeezes your chest and short shorts that make the outline of your cunt more prominent.

He’s the one that moves first, grabbing your cheeks and giving you soft kisses at first that as you accept him turn into more deeper kisses. When you try to take control of the kiss he’s quick to ruin it. He signals to Suguru to start removing your clothes and he listens obediently. Starting with your tops and then moving on to your shorts, he attacks your underwear next and hurriedly throws the damn things to the side.

Satoru trades places with Suguru to let him kiss you, Suguru isn’t soft at the start he immediately starts sucking on your thick tongue. While he’s keeping you busy Satoru begins fingering his slit, trying to coax his cock out of its sheath, after a few deep pumps his thick cock is fully hard and ready to be buried in you. He didn’t get to feel you wrapped around him like last time so he made an agreement with Suguru to let him fuck you first, he’ll try his damn hardest to last as long as possible.

Trying not to break up you and Suguru’s kiss, Satoru slowly moves your body to sit upon his tail where his cock lies, he takes his dick in his hand and slightly places it against your cunt, measuring the size. Your pussy is small compared to him, he truly does wonder if the water really helped Suguru slide in easily considering his size as well.

He teases his cock with your pussy, nudging the fat thing against your clit, you moan everytime he nudges up, slowly but surely he’s getting you wetter, combined with Suguru not letting you pull away for even a moment the whole thing has your head spinning. Satoru is leaking precum from his tip, his cock looks angry and ready to cum but he knows he shouldn’t.

Suguru grabs you by your waist and lifts you up so you’re hovering over Satoru’s reddened tip, he gently brings you down.

“Fuc..k..” you mutter quietly, as soon as he feels your pussy his mind is going blank, just having you submerge his tip feels so fucking good, this is what suguru was bragging about and he completely understands as you sink inch by inch.

Satoru replaces Suguru’s hands with his own on your waist, you do look like you need a moment but Satoru is just too needy, he begins bouncing you on his cock, your cum and his cum mixing creating a slippery mess, and even more nasty noises. With the little space provided Suguru dips his head inbetween and starts licking Satoru’s slit, he uses his fingers to pry it open and scissors his tongue in and out.

“Oh god- Suguru-“ he chokes out, he tries to keep his eyes from falling closed but finds it difficult, he wants to keep staring at your face contort into different phases of pleasure.

Satoru starts to get a little bit aggressive with his thrusting, he leans your body back a bit and starts hitting your spot directly on the mark, he’s a little startled when you let out a strangled moan. You must feel as good as he’s feeling, your walls are so damn tight and spongey against his cock. His thrusts get even more intense when Suguru starts fingering his slit hard.

“Pleas- does it feel good for you?” Satoru practically begs you to answer him in a whiny tone, you nod that’s all you can do. Your silent answer pushes him over, he slams you one final time down on his cock and his slimy cum is filling you so deeply, it doesn’t even occur to you that he had came inside of you, you don’t care, not when suguru leans over to suck on your bud. You cum right after Satoru, your cum soaking his cock.

You’re all panting wildly as you process what just happened and how good you all felt, you look to Suguru to see if maybe you can ride him as well but looking to his cock he’s made a mess completely untouched.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 2) - August!

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this sweet one is set just before they broke it off (or rather, before the reader stomped all over his heart) in part five!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

August! (... slipped away into a moment in time)

It's a fine morning, albeit lazy, you and Ewan having done nothing but lay in bed and talk and cuddle.

Granted, you did a lot more than talk over the course of the night. And this continued in the morning, with Ewan gently coaxing you out of sleep in need.

He's been insatiable, not that you can blame him. You two are finally together, after months of dancing around each other, your friends in eager anticipation to see how the 'will-they, won't they' dynamic will culminate.

They'll be pleased to know that it all led up to the best date you've had so far, followed by a night of bodies burning for the other, marking their territory in the throes of pent-up desire.

Ewan was sure he would remain the gentleman, merely driving you back to your hotel and calling it a night.

But you had invited him upstairs for a nightcap. Maybe some tea, as the Brits do. Needless to say, the tea was quickly forgotten, along with any reservations he might have about simply having you.

The haze of it hasn't subsided. Clad in nothing but undergarments, your limbs are tangled with his under the sheets as you watch the newly released New York foods video he did with Tom a while back.

"Baby?" you say, running your fingers through his hair as he has his head propped on your thighs. The screen plays on, showing the lads thoroughly enjoying some New York City hotdogs.

"Hmm?" he responds, his voice hinting at how soothed he feels from your touch.

"You're such a baby."

"What?" He twists his neck to shoot you a look of betrayal. Adorable.

"I bet those chips weren't even that spicy," you say, rolling your eyes. "I would have devoured those jalapeño chips."

"They were spicy!" He leans against his forearm, which he quickly positioned on your thigh without thinking, causing your muscle to spasm from the sudden weight.

"Ahhh, Ewan!" you wriggle your legs. "Get off, get off..."

"Shit!" He bolts upright, immediately kneading the flesh with his palm. "Sorry, baby. Here, where does it hurt?"

You sigh audibly. "Oh, you." You narrow your eyes at him playfully, trying to look all tough, but apparently he takes it as a cue to press his lips to yours.

It's warm, a bit sloppy, your breaths stale from wine drank over the course of the night. And you don't mind at all.

He croons in your ear, "How do I make it up to you?"

"It's fine, I was only kind of messing - "

"Come now, darling, anything."

He gazes at you, awaiting an answer. In the background, you hear his voice saying, The Fuegos... I didn't like them, as the video comes to a close.

I saw your eyeballs sort of pop out your head a little bit, Tom says in response.

This is going to be fun, you think, smiling evilly to yourself.

Rising to your knees on the bed, you loudly declare, "Today, my love, you will conquer your fears and eat my favourite spicy food."

"Nooo!" He shakes his head right away, already plotting how to get out of this predicament. "Baby, please make me do anything else. I can't handle my spice!"

"My mind is made up."

"What if I do that thing that made you scream last night? When I buried my tongue insi - '

"Ewan!" Your face reddens, but you carry on. His face will soon have the same reaction, but for different, more savoury reasons. "I mean, I would like that but - "

"Alright, let's go baby, spread your knees - " he nods, desperate to placate you and your challenge, but also eager to get down to business.

You shuffle away when he tries to pry your legs open. " - I said I made up my mind! We're eating spicy food. We gotta eat anyway, I'm starving."

He groans, collapsing back on the bed. He runs his hand tiredly over his face, mulling it over. As if he actually has a choice. He wants to do this for you, seeing as how excited you're getting.

"Get up, ol' sport," you crawl on top of him, perching above his stomach. "We're gonna go get the goods."

"Hmm," he sighs contentedly, one look at you more than enough to quell his worries. For now.

"Okay, darling," he relents, then his eyes flash in mischief. "But before we get out of bed... how about I do that thing anyway?"

There is not a single chance in the seven hells that you could ever say no to that.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An interesting spread is laid out on the round dining table in your hotel suite.

Your stomach growls in anticipation, while Ewan is stiff as a board as he sits beside you.

"I'm hungry, aren't you?" you nudge him, but he only moans, throwing his head back in his chair.

"What if I'd already eaten? I can skip this?" he tries.

"And what the hell did you eat?"

He smirks, and even though his answer won't save him from what follows, it renders him gleeful all the same. "You," is his reply.

That prompts an eye roll, but you shake your head at him fondly. "What should we start with, baby?"

"Water."

"Come on."

"How about the strawberry milk?"

"Okay, then I'll pick." You clasp your hands, surveying the options. "Let's start with something easy." You settle for the bowl of Flamin Hot Cheetos and place it right in front of him.

You help yourself to a few pieces, before noticing that he hasn't moved a muscle, so you take one and bring it to his lips. "Open up, handsome."

"Mmmm," he tilts his head away on instinct, but he gives in after a second. He makes a face as the snack crunches in his mouth. "Not... bad, I suppose.... Urghhh - " he coughs a little, making you snicker at him between bites.

"That's not spicy at all," you say. "At least, it's nothing compared to what we'll have next."

The chicken wings are an unnatural bright red colour, covered in hot sauce and dotted with flecks of chili. You lean down and take a whiff, your nose scrunching as the strong hint of spice hits your senses.

Your placating smile does nothing to ease Ewan, who only looks like he is regretting his life choices on the spot.

"O-kay, dragonblood. Time to breathe fire," you remark in an attempt to inspire some confidence in him. Didn't he take pride in playing a Targaryen dragonrider? Surely some part of him would want to overcome the big, bad opponent that is known in our world as spicy wings.

"Breathe fire?" he exclaims. "That does not make me feel any better!"

"Do it for Vhagar, my love. Do it for Vhagar."

"I'm doing this for you," he corrects, before gingerly taking the smallest bite of a wing. He waits for the impact, confused when nothing unpleasant occurs.

So he bravely takes another, heartier bite.

Big mistake.

His hand gravitates to the glass of water, and he chugs it down like a lifeline. His once pale face becomes the same hue as the fiery culprit.

"Fffuck, ba...by," he hiccups. "I didn't like that at all."

You have a bite, wincing just a little when it hits your throat. It wasn't too bad, so you tell him to calm down.

He complains anyway, "I think I just saw my life flash right before my eyes."

You chortle at that, which unfortunately makes some of the spice travel up your nose. "Oh god!" You instantly take a huge gulp of milk. "Don't make me laugh!" you say, when the heat dies down.

"See?" he cries out in vindication. "Why must we torture ourselves, darling?"

"The food's tasty," you counter.

"Yeah, but is it worth the price?"

You grip his shoulder, dramatically saying, "We have to keep going, soldier."

"No."

"Yes."

"You won't break up with me if I refuse, will you?"

You pause, making it seem like you are seriously deliberating it. "Maybe."

"What?!" His expression takes on a more real sense of alarm.

"I'm kidding," you giggle, nudging his leg with yours. He leans his head against your shoulder, responding with, "You're mean."

"And you're dating me. What does that say about you?"

He lets out a weary laugh, "That I'm just really in love, I guess."

That almost makes you give up on the challenge entirely. You could just let him eat the pepperoni pizza you have saved as the actual meal. But it wouldn't hurt too much to tackle the grand finale. The final boss. Maybe it will even get his taste buds to crack and cross over to the dark side.

"Baby?" Here goes everything.

"Hmm?"

"It's time for the spicy ramen."

He sighs a true sigh of defeat and acceptance. "If I survive this, you have to swear you're never letting me go."

"That's your bargain? Easy, baby."

His blue eyes bore into yours. His cheeks are still red and he's still sniffling from the spice, but his sentiment holds weight. He shrugs, before his arm reaches out for the bowl of ramen, making it known that he has already accepted his fate.

You slide the glass of milk closer to him.

"Try not to get it on your lips as much as possible," you advise him, growing worried as the ramen pack did warn that it was '2x Spicy'.

You cringe inwardly as a forkful of noodles enters his mouth. He drops his arm, chewing slowly, and finally the food gratefully slides down his throat.

"Mmm," he clears his throat, trying his hardest to remain calm. His forced, blank expression is even more alarming than the alternative.

"Ewan?" He turns his head toward you, slowly. And you see the full extent of the damage. His eyes well with tears, and his breathing is shallow from an even more congested nose.

"I'm okay," he wheezes, trying to maintain a show of boldness for your sake. "I can do this."

"You don't look okay." You shake your head at him, as his face takes on an even deeper shade of red.

A pained grunt escapes him. "Maybe a kiss will make it better."

A cursory glace at the ramen sauce staining his lips compels you to protest without a second thought. "How about no? You've got it all over your lips."

"Darling, who cares? You're going to eat them too!" he says, scandalised.

"But I've got a technique. I don't let it touch my lips so it doesn't burn!" You inch away as he leans in.

"So you won't kiss me?" He uses his baby blues against you, eyes bright and shimmering as he pouts in disappointment.

"You don't need a kiss." He tries to grab you, making you stand from your chair to get away. With your palm outstretched, you implore him, "Baby, just drink your milk."

"Then I get a kiss?"

"Fine. Then you get a kiss."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Tom calls you a few days later, his tone animated from the moment you pick up. "Would you look at that! I didn't think I would get a hold of you lovers. Thought you'd be busy doing somethin' else, if y'know what I mean."

"It's noon here, Tom," you reply matter-of-factly, stretching your legs out on the bed.

"So? I reckon Captain Big Balls over there has got it in him."

"Wow," you let out an amused exhale. Tom always did have a way about him, being a Manc and all. "Well, he's in the shower right now if you wanted to speak to him."

"I'm surprised you're not in there with him, love! You guys are all over the news, bloody hell. Even out here, everyone's buzzin' about the hot new couple from House of the Dragon. And no, it's not Matt and Fabien."

You smirk at his last remark, "Are you sure it's not Matt and Fabs?"

"Positive," he says. "But we never know what could happen. Anyway, how in the hell did you convince him?"

You rack your brain for what exactly he could be pertaining to. "Convince him to do what?"

"To create a bloody Instagram profile, that's what!"

Your mouth falls open, and you quickly put him on speaker so you can scroll to the aforementioned app. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for you to sift through your new follower notifications before you find him.

His username is on brand - straightforward and no-frills - just ewanmitchell . Already verified with a hundred thousand followers and counting. In his following list, however, there is only one - your profile.

If the papparazzi pictures and tabloid stories and fan encounters hadn't convinced everyone yet, likely this will.

Ewan, notorious not only for his charisma and pure talent, but also for being steadfast in staying off social media, has sent the entirety of Ewan Nation into a tailspin with his profile.

Icing on the cake - he only follows you.

"You see, this is what convinces the public that you two are not PR," Tom says. "Because Ewan would never, ever get on the socials for just anyone."

"I didn't even know he made this. I haven't been online in quite a bit."

"Been busy, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Doin' a lot of stuff out there?"

"I guess."

"Like Ewan?"

"Tom, I'm going to lynch you when I see you."

He only laughs, having gotten his desired outcome from prodding at you.

The bathroom door slides open, and Ewan steps out with nothing but a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist.

"Who's that?" he mouths at you.

"Tom," you answer loudly, prompting Tom to greet Ewan from the speakerphone.

"Aemond the Fierce!" he bellows, the long-distance call doing nothing to stifle his personality. "I always knew you had it in ya. Ever since you laid eyes on her during the table read, I knew it was only a matter of time."

Well, isn't that a revelation. You had thought it was just you harbouring a crush in the beginning. "The table read, really? I just remember being so nervous," you say.

"I thought you were attractive," Ewan admits, scratching the back of his neck. "And you were reading your lines with such passion that I... "

Tom interrupts, "He ran over to me and told me to show him your social media."

"Not just that, I - "

"He wanted to see whether you had any pictures with a boyfriend or something."

"Alright, alright." Ewan snatches the phone from your hand, as if that will keep Tom from exposing him even more. "How are you, mate?"

"I'm good, lad, and yourself?"

Ewan glances at you, seeing that you've gone back to reading a script, your brow furrowed in concentration.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"I'm great. I'm happy."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"Over here! Over here!"

"How's your evening going, you guys? How are you enjoying LA?"

The papparazzi needlessly try to make small talk and they flash their cameras in your face. You and Ewan barely have time to grimace at each other once you get inside his car. The restaurant where he took you to dinner hadn't been crawling with paps when you arrived. Someone must have tipped them at some point.

Ewan instinctively reaches for your hand when you've driven some distance away from the restaurant, a breath of relief exiting his lungs.

"That's Hollywood for you, baby," he says amusedly, putting on his best standard American accent.

The car speeds through the streets of LA. Heading to Mount Hollywood, you have the famous Griffith Observatory set as your destination.

You have always wanted to go, and it only took one mention to Ewan before he planned it for your next date.

It doesn't take long before the observatory's iconic structure comes into view. Its white domes seemingly gleam under the night sky, a sentinel watching over the city of Los Angeles.

Stepping out of the car, you take in the scene in awe. The resulting look on your face lets Ewan know he made the right choice in taking you here. He'd take you here everyday if it meant seeing you in a spell of childlike wonder.

The observatory itself is just a bonus.

The outer balcony stretches like a vertice into the vastness of the city, a sea of lights glistening down below. It seemed to sprawl on endlessly, a labyrinth of hopes and pains and dreams.

You stand there, drawn to the view like a moth to a flame. The evening breeze dances through your hair, and your face is aglow from the illuminated city.

Smiling widely, you turn and find Ewan lingering just behind, watching you.

"Come and look at this, my love," you wave him over.

He wants to capture the moment, so he does. He subtly points his camera in your direction. Your profile is partially visible, with your face turned out into the horizon. Your silhouette stands before a mosaic of the shining city.

But it's you that has his attention. You that pulls all of his focus into the frame.

He never thought he would have much use for a public social media profile like the one he created on Instagram, but hours later, as you're sound asleep beside him, he finds purpose for such a thing.

He uploads the first ever photo on his profile - the one he secretly took of you at the observatory.

Too conscious to think of a caption, he doesn't type in any, content to let the photo speak for itself.

Putting his phone away, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and falls into blissful slumber.

Ewan hadn't been aware of the phrase breaking the internet, and he's in for quite the rude awakening.

Even so, he doesn't let it faze him.

You're in shock when you discover the amount of comments under the photo, well past the twelve thousand mark when you wake up. Positive, negative, and everything in between.

Almost unheard of for an Instagram debut.

His reaction?

"At least everyone knows that you're mine now. What's wrong with that?"

You can vote here on the reader's hotd character name!

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy (continued in comments)

The sad, angsty bits will be saved for the next proper chapter! What happens to Ewan's Instagram then? What happens to him?? 🥲💔

I was going to include the double date idea, but alas, my ideas ran dry.

I've got nothing but love for all of you that have followed this story to this point! If you've got scene requests, just let me know!

[nikonyash]

WHEN NAGUMO SAYS HE JUST WANT A KISS...

655 words coming from my neck kiss-deprived soul

You know Nagumo is a freaking liar. Last time, he said, "Just the tip," but he coaxed 3 orgasms out of you. Another time, it was "Just a cuddle," but the next thing you knew, your face was pressed into the mattress while he chased his high. It’s not like you didn’t want it, but he's a fucking beast who can go for rounds, leaving you senseless and missing work deadlines.

So this time, you've been ignoring him for two days to finish your work. Not falling for his “Just a kiss” pleas.

Of course, the tall, cocky boyfriend of yours is not happy about it. He gets even more irritated seeing you ready for work in a cheery mood, all set to show the completed tasks to your boss.

"Gon' make it up to you tonight," you say as you wear your shoes, trying to calm his foul mood. He doesn't answer, only stares. Truth is, he's starving. His eyes have been following you like a prying predator, tracing every curve under your thin blouse. But he's pissed.

"Babe, you see," he murmurs as he leans against the wall, "Am gonna work as well and my schedule can be mean. Don't know when I'll be home again."

A sense of guilt strikes you, and you don’t know what to do but stare softly at him.

“I genuinely, really, truly, just want a kiss, love," he sighs. "I swear. I know you’ll be late if we go more than that.”

You bite your lip. "Well... if it’s reaaaaally just a kiss."

“And a hug?” he adds softly, show a little pout. You roll your eyes but can’t hide the faint smirk on your pretty lips. “Fine, yeah, sure.”

He pulls you into a hug. "Missed you," he mutters. His hand ruffles through your hair before his lips trail gentle kisses along your temple.

He pulls back and smiles, resting his forehead against yours. His hand slides down to your neck.

"Just. A. Kiss," you warn him, which he replies to with a soft chuckle.

He captures your lips gently, and his thumb brushes your jawline, lingering just enough to make you catch your breath.

And the moment you're caught between gasping and holding still, he leans into your neck.

His lips barely graze your neck at first; soft, teasing, like he's savoring every inch of your skin. Then he starts at your collarbone, tracing the curve with gentle, deliberate kisses, purposely letting the warmth of his breath linger just long enough to make your pulse quicken.

A soft little gasp escapes your lips. Your protest comes out stammered. Your hand unwittingly grips his arm, either to steady yourself or to push him away. But you don't do it either. Instead, you tilt your head and give him more access, completely without realizing it.

His grips tightened on your waist while he's alternating between soft kisses and little nips on your neck. When he reaches the spot below your ear, he pauses, pressing a kiss there, slow and deep. He darts his tongue, just a flick to see you shiver. You're on the edge, your resolve completely crumbled with your heart pounding faster.

Then, he stops.

He leans back, loosening his grip. His lips curl up in the cockiest damn grin. "Whoops! Time's up. Don't wanna be late, do we?"

You’re frozen. Still breathless, blinking like you’re trying to process what just happened. Before you can even recover, he presses one last quick kiss to your cheek and steps back, straightening his shirt like nothing just went down.

“Have a good day, love,” Nagumo says with a little wink before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

And by the time you regain your sanity, he's long gone.

“FUCKING ASSHOLE,” you half shout at the door, still flushed and frustrated.

Nagumo struts out like a damn king, grinning ear to ear.

Sweet, sweet revenge.

[lazyjellyfish300]

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 ˖⚘ ༘ ✿｡𖥧

⚘ nanami kento x fem pregnant!reader

⚘ synopsis: on a sunny easter afternoon unlike any other in your home in the countryside, you steal a moment between you and your husband to tell him the unexpected news that your home will be growing by one more. 🌷words~ 4k

⚘ cw: x fem!reader, x scarred post shibuya Nanami, reader is pregnant, family planning, vasectomy mention, light angst, fluff, you have children together, smut(p in v, fingering, cum eating, breast play, creampie)

The indent of your pillow against your cheek felt even fluffier than usual, tempting you with the irresistible invitation to ignore both your circadian and the external alarms from your phone that went off in succession, before your loving husband eventually shut them off for you.

Elusive sunlight poked through the lacey curtains of the farmhouse in sporadic spurts, rainy dew beginning to recede on the windows from the evening showers that ushered in this lovely Easter morning, the faint smell of brewing coffee, baking quiche, and the simmering roast you had marinating in spices overnight wafted from downstairs.

A rattling at your bedroom door almost shakes it off its hinges before it creaks open, the piggytails of your 18 month old skim over the top of the blankets like a shark fin, waddling until she's face to face with her mommy.

"Hey, noodle..." You whisper, trying to ignore the sting on your cheeks as her chubby hands grab at your face, nails like razor blades as she paws at you to get up.

The exhaustion is stronger than usual, but you relent and you pull her into bed with you, and it's not long before she's using you like a personal jungle gym and lobbing herself dangerously close to the edge.

Familiar footfalls pad down the hallway, along with some absurd giggles and squeals mixed in with the stern tone you recognize of your lover.

Kento kicks open the door lightly, followed by his chaotic entourage of your oldest daughter strapped to his right knee, and your middle daughter hanging on for dear life off his shoulder.

"There you are." He grins as he finds the third imposter eluding him under your arm.

You give him a smile stained with relief and grateful exhaustion and he gives you an apologetic look, knowing it's going to be hard to coax her downstairs now that she's found you. He promised you some time this morning to relax to take a load off your plate, knowing you always tend to bite off more than you can chew when it comes to holiday celebrations.

"Come on, now." Kento gently pulls at your daughter stuck on you like a koala made out of velcro, prying her loose, cooing softly as she begins to cry.

"Hmm, I don't think so, darling." He gently chastises as her chubby hands try to grab the hot mug of coffee he left for you on the nightstand. "We have drinks downstairs that are more suitable for you."

Your older two daughters were utterly obsessed with their daddy, but your youngest had been much clingier to you as of late.

"Momma's resting. Let's give her some space to relax, shall we?"

You look on a bit regretfully as Kento lumbers out of the room with his arms full, but sigh as you settle back under your fortress of quilts knowing that at least the next hour or so belongs to you with no interruption, smiling when you hear the disappointed cries of your babies turn into cheers of joy when Kento mutters something about the Easter Bunny.

---

You eventually make your grand entrance a while later, eyes going wide when you see Kento's mother already seated at the table, impossibly overdressed and regal, bouncing your baby with syrupy cheeks and a fistful of bacon on her knee.

"Oh! Morning, Mama."

"Good morning, dear. Happy Easter." She turns her head as you bump cheeks and leave a kiss in pleasant greeting.

"Happy Easter! I didn't realize you were coming so early! God, I'm so sorry about all this..." You mutter in embarrassment, crossing rapidly to the kitchen where you knew the dishes were overflowing the night before, voice tapering off as it was miraculously empty. You pace quickly to the living room where you remembered the girls' metropolis of Littlest Pet Shops were set up yesterday, astonished to discover it had been tidied up with all toys neatly stacked away.

Of course. You realize, shaking your head as the puzzle pieces assembled and you turned your head towards the windows where you saw Kento tending to the animals in the stables. Always one step ahead of you, reading your mind and making your life easier before your feet could even hit the floor in the mornings, unable to help the surge of desire that trickles afterwards as he turns and smiles humbly in your direction, sending him a smoldering look through the glass that says you have every intention of thanking him properly as soon as the entire house goes to bed.

Your mother-in-law just smiles as she watches her littlest grandbaby stuff herself with one more handful of bacon before she's had enough and turns to her with proud chipmunk cheeks. Momma Nanami already knew that Kento would have the place handled, she raised him to do so after all, though she wouldn't have given it a single second thought if he hadn't and the house was still in disarray when she arrived.

"I've got her." She tells you warmly as you approach to take your daughter back. You smile before you round the corner to go back upstairs, grateful knowing that deep down she would've begged you to let her take her grandbaby back with her to Tokyo for the rest of the month.

----

The farmhouse blossoms to life on a few occasions during the calendar year, Easter being one of them.

The solitude of the rainy pocket you lived in transforms into a bustling hub where familiar, beloved faces cross the threshold of the propped open front door to hallways of raucous laughter, shared memories in the heart of new ones being created with comforting smells of home-cooked food with love layered in every bite.

You watch from the porch as your girls dart all over the yard and garden, nodding and clapping every time they add another colorful egg to their overflowing baskets. You try to ignore the bittersweet tightening of knots in your chest. It felt like you were being gifted back moments of your babies from the thief of time while it simultaneously rolled them out of the door every time you noticed your youngest became more sure on her feet as she chased her older sisters, reminding you that these tender years were just as fleeting as they were precious.

Indoors, the battle on the Super Nintendo is well underway with Kento about to win 3 for 3 against Yuji and Megumi, while Gojo supervises as the unofficial referee.

"Think fast." Kento relinquishes his remote to Satoru who scoots to the edge of his seat, letting out a yell of victory to the groans of utter disappointment from his opponents as he manages to finish them off at the last second.

"Hey, you." You greet him as Kento's hand snakes around the curve of the familiar residence of your hip to pull you close against him.

"Apologies." He mutters in a volume only the two of you can hear in your little separate bubble on the back porch as you watch your daughters run all over the yard. "I hope I didn't miss much."

"No, right on time. They just started." You hum as your thumb traces idley over a small ridge of the scarring on his left hand that rests on your stomach, polished white gold haphazardly glinting in the light that manages to seep through the shadows from the shade of your peach trees. "They're moving quickly, though. I wonder if I should've gotten more while I was in town yesterday."

"Absolutely not." Kento snorts out a little breath from his nostrils as he remembers the outrageous number of goodies his mother showed him in her suitcase shortly after she arrived that morning. "They have more than plenty of treats and gifts to go around this year. Trust me, darling."

"I trust you." You hum, turning so your face is buried in his chest, grounding yourself in the steady cadence of his heartbeat for just a moment in between the chaos.

"Are you alright?" He asks, unable to keep his heart from melting every time you sought out his affection, how the level of tenderness in your request for closeness to him never wavered from the dawn of your relationship that blossomed and sprouted on this very same porch.

The truth was, there was something you were harboring underneath the surface from yesterday(truly, a record of a miracle considering this is the longest it could ever stay that way).

Two faded pink lines you buried at the bottom of the trash can that had shown up despite all odds stacked against them with Kento's vasectomy and the mutual agreement you came to months earlier that your little family was complete.

But of course, fate, that pesky force it was, both responsible for the miracle of your love falling into place, and now baby number four, had other plans. Only now, you worried that the unplanned element of it all would put a slight damper on the news.

"Mhmm, just tired." You mutter as you go a little limp in his embrace while he's unable to help the inadvertent curve of his smile. As he strokes your hair, he can't help but take note that this bout of exhaustion that's been seizing you as of late has been sticking around for a bit longer than usual.

But for now, he holds you close to his heart, swaying you to invisible melody with the pattern of the subtle afternoon breeze as he watches his trio of treasures sprint with carefree glee around your farmland property, not allowing his worry to steal his focus from the priceless memory of another Easter egg hunt unfolding right in front of him.

----

The girls wander back to the porch with their baskets of loot, out of breath.

"Nice job, little ladies." Yaga gives them high fives as they scurry into the living room, eager to crack open their goodies. Your baby, however, is still a little too shy for a high five, tugging at your dress before you finally scoop her up.

"Um, actually, I think there is one more." You direct your statement mostly to your husband, who turns to you, curiosity piqued, however Mama Nanami catches the ending.

She doesn't know, but she understands the look you give her son. It's one she used to give his father, a knowing that comes from loving the same person over many years, a look that begs for just a little reprieve from the endearing bustle of family life where you two could just exist for a moment as husband and wife.

As if on cue, she moves to take your little one out of your arms after a little coaxing,

"Let's go inside and show Nana what you've found."

"Thank you..." You nod appreciatively as Kento's fingers fill the spaces between yours.

"We won't be long." He reassures them as you both step away.

----

You linger for a moment next to your favorite tree on the property you love to take afternoon naps under, hand in hand, except for the moments when your grip loosens slightly so he can allow his thumb to smooth over the heart of your palm to let you know he's still following close behind, not minding the moisture from the yellow blades of grass that brushed both your ankles.

Kento smiles as you tug him into the barn, a ritual you've partaken in many times, though the last time you did was far longer ago than he would have liked.

"Up here." You chuckle as you begin to climb the ladder after witnessing the confusion plastered on his face.

"You're impossible." But his statement carries all of the affection he can muster and bury underneath the mild inconvenience of the moment, even so as all the love he has for you is completely unrestrained by his limited gaze in the eyepatch on the left side of his face when your back is turned to him.

Once you're both seated in the privacy of the loft, you reveal the reason you had stolen his presence, a small blue egg in the palm of your hand.

He takes it from you as you sit cross legged from each other, shaking it next to his ear with an unserious wiggle of his brow. "Well, it's definitely not cash."

"Oh my God, just open it, silly!"

"I'll take as long as I well please, darling. Since I have been nothing but patient with all this suspense you've built up, you lovable tease."He holds the egg in his fingertips, turning it over for one moment longer before he cracks it open without another thought.

He freezes as a small pacifier tumbles out. His mind only takes a moment to compute the symbolic message behind the small object, a million questions fanning across his mind that get simultaneously answered all at once as his thoughts catch up to him.

"Happy Easter." You say quietly, breath still unreleased from your lungs as you can't exactly discern the stream of thoughts you know are racing inside him at this very moment.

"Really?" He asks, his gaze searching and latching onto the slightly fearful confirmation in your eyes as soon as you nod your head.

"Yes... I've known since yesterday."

"Come here." He folds the pacifier in between both your hands and he uses it to slowly pull you into his lap, legs straddling either side of him, hand at the back of your neck to hold you even closer against him as though the current press of your bodies together simply wasn't enough to quell his unrelenting ache.

"You're not upset?"

"No, I'm not upset." He answers softly.

"I feel bad though, Ken. The surgery...we thought we were done..."

"I knew there was still a small risk, even with the surgery." His hand halts in its reassuring path down your waist as he pulls back for a moment to look into your eyes.

"What would you like to do, sweetheart?"

"I...can't bring myself to consider any alternatives." You murmur, shaking your head as he studies you patiently with that iris of caramel centering you in the present of his love that never demanded and only flowed without apology, like the river that flooded and stranded him with you in the first place.

"Then, we're parents-to-be with a fourth. It's as simple as that."

"But-"

"No buts, darling." The tip of his nose affectionately smooshes against yours. "The choice is yours, and yours alone. I just want to support you and the babies in any way I can."

His thumbs trace over the backs of your hands in indiscriminate shapes that all speak the same language of adoration. "I love every child the moment you tell me about them. So even though this news is unexpected, it's never unwelcomed. As long as you're safe, and happy, that's all I could ask for."

You know he's not lying, either as you reflect on every single one of your pregnancies. The aches, pains, and woes somehow became blurred as an afterthought when you recalled each one. It might have been the very definition of insanity.

But love, particularly the unbelievable way you and Kento came to meet, rarely ever made sense. And the way he revered you, loved you, never made you hold anything he thought you weren't supposed to carry, and cleansed your world of unnecessary stresses through the season of bearing each of his babies made it so easy to say yes to just one more.

He kisses you and the emotions of the moment born out of this life-changing revelation hangs in in the air when your lips briefly let go with reluctance, a quiet ember begging to be something just a little bit more, bargaining back a little more time from its endless game of cat and mouse that loved to elude you, shamelessly indulgent despite knowing you'd have more of it tonight when the world went to sleep. Your foreheads press together, and it's simply you and him breathing together in this pocket of time where you can just be as a couple.

He takes your chin in his fingers, kissing you again, slowly with intention, warm tongue skimming along your bottom lip until you inevitably oblige and let him in, a shivery groan escaping that shoots straight through him and cracks his restraint that all but turned to glass every time he was alone with you, despite the countless times he's heard it.

He knows it, when your sounds begin to leave you in a broken pattern that thrum against his lips pressed to your throat like a prayer, a plea. His hands depart from cradling your face to rub your breasts slowly through your dress he'd been yearning to feel you under ever since he saw you in it through windows in the bright light of your kitchen.

"Fuck, Ken..."

Your voice makes him eager to scratch that itch, suckling your left breast into his mouth without wasting another moment while he rolls your clothed clit softly on the meat of his thigh.

"They're waiting for us." You purr feebly with your head thrown back, knowing you have no intention of withstanding the urge to let him fuck you in the mellow quiet of this barn, looking down occasionally to take in the way he hollows his cheeks as he sucks on your tits with a fervor you know will translate into little lovemarks that only you and him will be able to see that will hopefully last for weeks, supple flickers of his smooth tongue strategically lapping at the already hardened nipples until you feel like a dam about to burst as the slick begins to drip more steadily between your thighs.

"They can wait five more..." He murmurs as he finishes paying attention to the right before he lays you on your back on the bed of straw, breath shuddering as the thin cotton of your dress does little to shroud the budding bumps along the raised nipples of your tender breasts so enticingly, by far his favorite constellation with the North Star of the two layered diamonds of your necklace as the centerpiece, swaying in synchronized rhythm as your body inadvertently thrusts against his hardening cock behind his trousers.

"We don't need long."

Your thigh curls along the slope of his back like the vines that decorate the cobblestones of the exterior of your home, as his left palm moves inside your panties, a bit of a habit he picked up on purpose just to indulge that possessive need of his to see and feel you cum and clench around his wedding ring. He groans as he takes his time to coax and explore, warm honey flowing freely as he dips between your folds to stretch you around his long fingers.

"God, so tight..." He can't resist unbuttoning his pants to stroke his heavy cock at the same time, right as his middle and index finger find and press, wetly squelching against the silky spot inside your sweet pussy that he had scored to memory long ago like a scripture.

"Ohhh, Kento..."

You pulse maddeningly around his fingers and he pumps himself even faster, precum slowly dribbling down his fingers as he recollects how you do the same thing on his cock when he's deep inside you.

"They'll hear us if you keep moaning like that..." He wantonly utters with the last semblance of self-restraint he can muster as his face falls into the sanctuary of your neck as he can't delay his own climax much longer. "If Shoko goes outside to smoke-"

"Just fuck me, Kento..."

He groans as he sits up on his forearm, his thumb over your pulse as he draws his hips back, leaning in, ghosting over your mouth with the shadow of a kiss as he softly pants, before he seals his lips over yours. He guides the scarred, bulging tip inside you, receding his hips backwards in a slow draw without leaving you entirely, before giving one long, steady push until he's fully inside.

He moans audibly in unison alongside you as the stretch dissolves like pleasure on a cloud, carrying you away as the rhythmic waves of aftershocks dance up your spine in blind succession with every deep thrust. You're not spared from feeling every single inch, every subtle curve of him that fit into you like no other as if by design that was divine in nature.

"So damn warm, so beautiful like this..." He sighs as he rolls his hips in just the way he loves, tips of his knuckles blossoming into white as he grips the meat of your thighs like his center of gravity to pull him in with more passion, more depth to precision in the soft, warm tides of that velvety oasis, over and over again.

"Cum with me..." You murmur and you feel the full consequence your words have on him when his thrusts abruptly get even harder in response.

"Kiss me if it's too much..." He whispers, although as more of a command as he yanks you against his lips regardless. He fucks you roughly, throughly with a passion that travels from his kiss all the way down to where you connect and undulate together as one.

It rivals the thunder in the pewter clouds that plague the skies above your farmhouse. It's lovemaking with an intensity that conveyed all the frustration he felt at the time that dragged much longer than he wanted it to between the last time he could enjoy you like this, coupled with the wildfire of elation and desire he felt setting the forest of his heart ablaze knowing you were going to bear another one of his children.

"I love you."

It comes crashing down with his climax that reduces his composure to shaky trembles like a battered leaf in the wind with his face in your neck, tranquilized by the scent of your hair splayed across his sweaty forehead, creamy cum milking out of his cock and soaking your spasming walls that pulse in balanced tempo around his length, the lingering remnant of his loving declaration hanging around you like a heavenly haze of smoke with the after effects of an aphrodisiac as fuel for your peak that was all but eminent.

His thumb continues circling around your clit, pumping into you a few more times with his cock before he slowly pulls out, dipping his head down with no hesitation to finish the job. Warm delicate tongue lapping at the mixture of your love that almost makes him harden all over again, smearing the sea of dribbling slick all over your clit before he gives you his fingers one more time to relieve that loss inside you were feeling.

Your cum soaks his wedding band as intended and you share a devilish smile as you watch him clean his fingers with his tongue.

"Open your mouth..." He leaves the elixir of both your essences on your tongue mingled in the steamy punctuation of an all-consuming kiss he never lets you go without.

"I love you more." You drunkenly murmur, intoxicated quite a ways up from the aftershocks of this session whose postlude tonight you were now awaiting with much more impatience.

And he feels precisely the same as you both clean up and he notices the tremor in your step that he was responsible for causing, a latent fire growing in his belly as he knows it's all but certain he'll be dripping out of you until the long anticipated moment behind your closed bedroom door when he finally has you all to himself.

"Not even close."

He tells you without speaking, rather in the squeeze of his hand and the glimmer in your eyes that only you two know the true meaning, as you saunter back to your home that awaited with even more love inside.

---

dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[littlexdeaths]

someone’s a little jealous…

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

warnings: smut +18 only, jealous!eddie, possessive!eddie, thigh riding, praise kink, semi-public sex, also a lil sprinkle of mean!eddie bc i love him.

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

“eddie, hold on—” you mewl, unintentionally grinding yourself harder onto his thigh.

eddie has you pinned between the side of your garage and his chest, purposefully out of view from the prying eyes of your brother. his lips are everywhere, pressing heavy kisses wherever he could reach.

no sliver of skin was left untouched, whether that was from his wandering hands or his lips. he wanted you to feel him all over, to imprint his touch onto your skin forever.

as if to remind you just who you really belonged to, not that you could ever forget.

once you’d said your goodbyes to steve after an incredibly unpleasant dinner, you’d planted a chaste kiss on his cheek (it’s all for the bit, right?) but eddie was beyond fuming.

he’d convinced your brother he had forgotten something back at his trailer, so he’d be gone for at least another twenty minutes. giving him plenty of time to pull you aside and have his way with you.

“what? you want your other boyfriend to come take care of you? is that it?” he grunts, pressing his denim-clad thigh harder against your cunt.

your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, fingernails digging harder into the meat of his shoulders.

“no, i want you, ed.” you whine, feeling the way his lips turn up in a smirk against your jaw.

“is that so?” he hums, nipping at your throat. “didn’t look that way at dinner, baby. looked to me like you really wanted, stevie.”

he all but sneers the other male’s name, the possessive edge to his voice has you practically trembling in his embrace. you’d seen eddie jealous before, but this was on a whole other level.

and you can’t deny the way your cunt practically throbs in response to it.

but when you frantically shake your head and look up at him with those doe eyes, his resolve starts to slip. “it’s only you, eddie. i only want you.”

he makes a deep humming sound in the back of his throat, pressing more heated kisses along your jaw.

“think you’re gonna need to prove it to me, sweetness. prove to me that you’re my good girl.”

he leans one hand on the wall beside your head, and the other he uses to help continually guide your hips along his thigh. your body is buzzing, practically alight under his ministrations— but as good as this felt, you needed more.

“need you to fuck me,” you whimper, burying your face in the sweaty skin of his neck to press some open-mouthed kisses there.

you can feel the chuckle that vibrates against your lips, the sound further dampening your panties.

“you gotta earn that, sweetheart. show me you can come like this and then i’ll think about it.”

he can tell you’re pouting without actually seeing you, earning you another deep chuckle. but you know that’s not going to get you what you want. so when you grip onto his battle vest for leverage and use it to further dampen his jeans, he has to hold back a moan.

“that’s it baby, see you can listen, huh?” the condescension in his tone is thick, “just gotta give you proper incentive, that it?”

you can only manage a whine in response, your own thighs starting to tighten around his own once you find just the right spot. and you’re downright frantic then, hips stuttering as you chase that high. your boyfriend only encourages you, gently coaxing your face from his neck.

his eyes are dark, hungry as he greedily takes in your expressions. the way you tuck your lip between your teeth, a habit you’d formed to keep yourself quiet. and the way your lashes are fluttering, eyes threatening to close with each glide of your clit against the denim beneath your hips.

you’re utterly wrecked, and it’s all because of him.

“cum for me baby, you can do it.” he coos, leaning down to press your lips together.

that’s all it takes for you to fall apart, your body trembling in his strong embrace. he swallows your cries as he kisses you deeper, cradling your body against his own. but you barely have time to relish in the feeling as you hear the back door slam open.

you both freeze as the distinct sound of your brother’s whistling fills the evening air. eddie carefully slides his thigh out from between your own, and you allow your body to rest fully against the garage. neither of you make another move as the lid of the garbage can is flung open, barely five feet around the corner from where you both are standing.

sid makes a noise of disgust as he tosses the bag of trash into the can, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle a giggle. eddie just gives you a pointed look, as if to say, really? right now?

unbeknownst to you, your brother has guns n’roses blasting through the headset of his walkman— so there’s no way he would’ve heard you anyhow.

but your body sags in relief when you hear the back door close again, and eddie blows out the breath he’d been holding.

“jesus christ, that was way too close,” he groans.

you can’t help but giggle when you tug him back into you, nudging your nose with his as you kiss him deeply. eddie rests his hands on your hips, groaning into your mouth when your knee brushes against the bulge in his jeans.

“wait, wait, wait, sweetheart.” he almost whines, causing you to giggle again.

“you promised me, munson.”

he curses again, pulling away from you to run a hand through his tousled hair.

“trust me, i’ll make good on that promise, baby…. but later, okay?”

he gives you a look as you jut out your lower lip in a pout, to which he responds by taking it inbetween his teeth with a grunt.

“god, you’ll be the death of me. you know that?”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks

dm me if you want to join the taglist!

[wondrluv]

Luke 100% accidentally just gives you hickeys. Random thought at 1 in the morning but he’ll just have his face tucked in your neck and the next thing you know is you have to invest in colour corrector again. He doesn’t even know he does it he just starts doing it while you’re both relaxing after a long day.

Anyway! Do with this what you will!

this has just been sitting in my inbox for ages and i finally cleared everything out tonight and i'm so glad to dig this up from the depths of the clutterness.

but i will totally agree with you !

you would wake up and start getting ready for work, prying his arms off of you and heading towards the bathroom. it would take you a minute to look in the mirror but once you did you r eyes would narrow on the very obvious bruise on your neck.

after you've showered and gotten as ready as you can before you start doing your makeup, you would reach for the spot where your color corrector should've been only to find out you were out. all feelings of letting luke sleep in after his game last night left your body and you were shaking him awake.

of course, he would grumble out protests of being awoken but you couldn't find it in you to care when you had to be at work in an hour and you hadn't even started your makeup or had breakfast yet.

he would apologize but the two of you both knew he didn't really mean it. somehow he would end up coaxing you to stay home, muttering something along the lines of 'if you don't want people to see it then you should just stay home.'

he would promise that he would go out later to replenish your color corrector supply but for now, he would get you to change back into your pajamas and come back and lay with him

[sim0nril3y]

I cannot get enough of ghost and his little civilian reader!!! I broke my arm today (boo do not recommend) but now I get to rest and fantasize about my favorite cod men lol. How do you think Simon would react if his girl broke her arm??

Note: oh my, I'm so sorry to hear that you broke your arm, honey. I hope that you are doing okay and that you are on the mend now. Please try to enjoy your time resting and fantising about the wonderful men of COD. I hope that this helped bring you some comfort. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, broken arm, talk of pain, talk of pain medication, hospital talk, canon-typical swearing.

Simon was cursing himself. If he had been quicker then he might have been able to catch you before you slipped onto that patch of ice. Maybe if he’d been more observant Simon might have been able to steer you around it and avoid the problem all together. Hell, if he hadn’t insisted on walking on the side of the pavement closer to the road then it would have been him slipping and you wouldn’t be in agony sitting on an uncomfortable hospital bed after hours of waiting in A&E.

Not long after you’d been admitted they had taken you away for an x-ray to confirm that you had broken the bone, but that was something that Simon could have told them with utmost certainty considering he had heard the sickening crack of the bone breaking. It was a sound that was going to haunt his dreams for months, along with the sounds of your sobs and cries of pain, they had been imbedded into his mind and even now were echoing.

After you had been returned to him Simon kept a strong hand planted on you at all times, as if you were something that could be lost easily. It seemed to deescalate his anxiety just being able to hold you, that was something you even noticed through the haze of the pain relief they’d given you that hadn’t seemed to kick in entirely yet as your arm still throbbed in agony.

“Oi…” You said gently, gaining his attention as it focused in on your arm. Reaching over with your good hand to gently pinch Simon’s chin and force his gaze up into your eyes. “Will you stop it with that face?” You requested in a gentle voice. “What face?” Simon replied as if unaware that he looked like he had been kicked in the stomach over and over. “That face.” You whispered, gazing deeply into his eyes and gifting him a delicate smile, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes from the pain you were fighting. “Yes, it’s broken but accidents happen-”

In a sharp tone Simon replied. “Not with me.” His brows pinched together, as if internally scolding himself for his short tone. “Not… not with me.” He said again, his voice lower and softer. “Accidents don’t happen with me and especially not to you.” You pat his hand that was gripping your knee tight and leaned back into the pillows finally feeling the pain relief beginning to take some effect. It was just in time too because the nurse had arrived to begin to cast your arm into an uncomfortable position to ensure that it would set right.

After that they sent you away with Simon, some instructions for the pain pills and a sling to help relieve the pressure on your broken arm.

Arriving home Simon helped you through the front door, stepped inside behind you and carefully prying your coat from your wounded body. Then he knelt down and began to fight the knots from the laces on your boots. “I could do that, you know?” You informed him. “I know.” Simon answered before tilting his head up to look into your eyes. “But you’re gonna let me help you anyway.”

Gently you tugged your fingers through his hair and nodded in agreement. Simon helped you remove your boots and then rose up to his full height, glancing down at you as he cupped your cheek lovingly. “Let me get you settled, alright?” Coaxing you to walk in front and upstairs, Simon never took his hands from your body, keeping you clasped so that you didn’t stumble or injure yourself further. “Good girl…” He muttered softly as you entered your bedroom, Simon held you from behind and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “Let me get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

A tired scoff fell from your lips. “I broke my arm and you’re gonna help fix it with your-” “Behave.” Simon smirked. “Fuckin’ brat…” Then shaking his head as he crossed the room to gather some loose fitting clothes for you. They were his clothes. Simon loved seeing you dressed up in his clothes, but seeing you comforted by them after your injury hit him on a whole new level. “C’mere… We’ll get you into something comfortable and then you can rest. Okay?”

Gently nodding your head, you responded with an almost teasing tone. “Yes, sir~” Which earned a tested look from Simon before he carefully began to undress you. It was fine until he removed your shirt, trying to move your arm as little as possible. The movement earned a noise of discomfort from you, eyes squeezing closed and not a moment later Simon’s lips pressed against your forehead. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He assured you gentle. “Not gonna let anything hurt you. Okay?”

You trusted him. In that single moment you knew you trusted Simon to protect you from any danger that would come your way. There was so much certainty to his voice. There was so much need to make sure that you were never going to be in pain again. “C’mon… bed…”

Now that you were dressed up in some of his clothes Simon lead you to your bed, pulling back the covers and placing you under them, tucking you in tight and ensuring that your arm was raised by a couple pillows. “Here.” He placed the remotes to the TV within you reach but knew that whatever you were going to put on you wouldn’t even last a couple minutes watching considering the way that your eyes were drooping closed now.

“Try and get some rest and I’ll make some food-” “Can you stay for a little while?” You questioned; your tone practically slurred from the exhaustion that was beginning to sweep through your body. “Course…” Simon agreed, moving to carefully slot in beside you, rubbing his fingers over your face, carefully drawing slow lines over your forehead, down your nose, coaxing you further into tiredness. “Can’t… can’t promise I’ll be… be good conversation…”

Simon chuckled quietly, kissing the hinge of your jaw tenderly and then requesting. “Sleep, babe. Get some rest for me.” He heard the way your breathing changed. He felt the way your body sank and your muscles relax and finally he whispered into your ear. “I will never let you fill this way again; I will never let anything or anyone hurt you.” He observing your peaceful slumbering face, knowing it was safe. “I love you.”

Masterlist | Ask | 09-12-2023

[gigabyte-flare]

The Dragon's Respite

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: It's early in the morning of the day that the Midnight Rangers are set to confront the Threnodian threat along side the mysterious Rover. You awake to find your lover restless and you are determined to ease his troubled thoughts.

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Jiyan x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: mostly fluff, very mild angst, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: To say I've been addicted to Wuthering Waves is an understatement. Jiyan has lived rent free in my head since I started the game. I need this man in a way that is concerning to feminism.

And before anyone says anything, yes, I am well aware that Jiyan is not a dragon; it is just incredibly sexy to call him a dragon. Don't at me 🤣

It is the chill of the room that wakes you, realizing you are not wrapped in the embrace of your lover. Your eyes flutter open, the room is dark still, the shades drawn closed to keep out prying eyes. Even so, from behind them, you can see the first signs of the early morning, much to your dismay. You sit up, your eyes scanning the dark room until they settle on the figure sitting at the end of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs, his luscious teal hair disheveled from sleep.

You slowly sit up, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the brush sitting on it. You shift yourself so that you're behind him. With the brush in hand, you begin to comb out the general's hair.

"What's the matter, Jiyan?" you ask, the concern evident in your voice as you continue to brush out his hair, your eyes scanning over the toned muscle of his back, "you're really tense."

"The Retroact Rain will start rising soon," Jiyan replies, rolling his right shoulder, "and when it does, I have to be ready."

You let out a deep sigh, now putting Jiyan's hair up in his signature pony tail, giving you a clear view of the Tacet Mark that runs down his spine. You reach for it, gently dragging your fingers tips down the mark. This elicits a soft sigh from him and you can’t help but smile in response. You then lean forward, placing a soft kiss upon the mark.

Jiyan groans, turning towards you to capture your lips in a tender kiss. He brings his hand up, running his fingers through your hair.

"Are you trying to awaken the dragon, my love?" he asks, the pupils in his golden eyes dilating slightly as he pulls away from the kiss.

You bite your bottom lip, giving Jiyan a playful but knowing look, "perhaps I am…"

A low chuckle emanates from him as he turns his body towards you. You lay yourself back down on the bed as he climbs on top of you, caging you under his body. Your gaze travels down his chiseled form before settling on the noticeable bulge under his grey sweatpants.

"My eyes are up here, love," Jiyan says with a chuckle, gently grasping your chin between his index finger and thumb, coaxing your gaze back to his face, "we'll need to be quick."

His fingers hook into the hem of his sweatpants, quickly removing them as you remove your own pajamas, the two of you now completely nude. Jiyan wastes no time settling his hips between your spread legs. The head of his cock teases your soaked entrance, causing your breath to hitch. Grasping your hips in his hands, he sheathes himself into you with a single thrust. He lets out a low moan as he begins to move his hips, angling his hips so that his cock hits all the right places inside you, making you see stars.

Your fingers latch onto his back, your fingernails digging into his Tacet Mark inadvertently, eliciting a growl from him. His lips devour yours as he begins to pound into you, the head of his member kissing your cervix with each thrust. The heels of your feet dig into the bed as you cry out his name.

"I-I'm… I'm so close, Jiyan--!"

He lets out another chuckle, "oh, I know, love," he leans down to whisper in your ear, "your pretty pussy always flutters around my cock just before I send you into bliss."

That is the catalyst that sends you over the edge and your release gushes around him, pulling another chuckle out of him. He, however, is not finished with you. Looping his arms around your legs, he props them onto his shoulders as he practically folds you in half, strengthening his assault on your throbbing cunt. Overstimulated, tears run down the sides of your face as you cover your mouth with one of your hands, screaming into it as to prevent your cries from being heard by the entire Midnight Rangers camp.

Jiyan's thrusts start to become erratic as he chases his own release. He brings one of his hands up to cup the side of your face, carefully pulling your hand away from your mouth before saying softly, "where do you want me, love?"

"Inside," you plead, your breaths labored as you reach up, grasping the back of his head, "please, Jiyan…"

He smirks at you, his gold eyes boring into yours, "of course, love. I'll give you everything I have."

With a couple more powerful thrusts, he pushes himself inside you as deep as he can go, painting your pussy walls with his hot seed with a loud groan. Sealing his lips over yours, his tongue invades your mouth as his cock continues to throb inside you. You moan into his kiss, your tongue welcoming his as you drape your arms around his shoulders. Breaking away from the kiss, Jiyan rests his forehead against yours, his breaths labored as he comes down from his orgasm. You whimper softly, your body trembling beneath his in the aftermath of your own release.

Jiyan leans back down, giving you another tender kiss, which you happily reciprocate, his fingers combing through your hair as he deepens the kiss. An abrupt knock on the door shatters the blissful moment, causing you to jump; meanwhile, Jiyan lets out an irritated groan.

"General Jiyan!" a male voice calls out from the other side of the door, "your presence is needed, sir! Rover and Yangyang are on their way!"

He props himself up on his hands, slowly unsheathing himself from your warmth. You can feel his cum leak out from you, causing a smile to cross your lips. Jiyan smiles down at you, bringing his hand back up to caress your cheek.

"Do you mind helping me dress?" he asks, the sorrow clear in his golden gaze.

"Of course I don't mind, Jiyan."

Jiyan climbs off the bed and walks over to the closet while you pick up your pajamas off the floor, putting them back on. Meanwhile, Jiyan has begun to dress, putting on his leather pants, boots and the tight black leather tank top; you always loved how it perfectly accentuates his toned chest. The rest of his uniform is piled onto the bed; you pick up the beautiful fabric and help him get it on. It takes several minutes to get the robes of his uniform on, as there are several intricate pieces that have to be placed perfectly. Thankfully for you, this is not the first time you've helped Jiyan put his uniform on, and it certainly won't be your last.

Once he's dressed, you can't help but take a step back to marvel at him; you were always a sucker for a man in uniform. Another chuckle from Jiyan breaks you out of your daze, causing you to blush. Jiyan approaches you, placing his hands onto your hips before kissing you once more as you drape your arms onto his shoulders.

You break the kiss, letting out a soft sigh, "promise you'll come back to me, Jiyan."

"Not even the Threnodian can keep me from you, my love."

He plants one last kiss onto your forehead before turning away from you, walking up to grab his sword that is leaning up against the wall, sheathing it into his belt. He walks up to the door, which automatically slides open from his presence. He stops in the threshold, turning his head slightly to address you once more.

"Don't you worry, love. Victory will be ours."

[revelboo]

Your Hound and Trailbreaker fics are making me smile so much! It’s always a delight to see them! I wonder if any of the humans on the Ark have tried to make a break for it? Only to get into trouble out in the wilderness and have to be rescued for real 😂

Hound and Teeb’s humans are making an escape attempt

Too Tired To Wink Pt 3

Trailbreaker x Reader

• Is he sleeping? Do giant, alien robot monsters sleep? His visor had gone dim about an hour or so ago, cheek on his outstretched arm and mouth hanging open. Looks asleep. Back pressed to the wall, you creep along it. Most of his bulk is sprawled out on the floor where he’d trapped you under his berth and trying to coax you out. Moving slowly past his servos, you’re afraid to even breathe in case you wake him up. No real plan aside from reaching the vent set into the wall that’s low enough to be accessible. The slots in it big enough to squeeze through. Hopefully.

• Vents clearing noisily at a soft rustling, his head lifts and for a moment he can’t figure out why he’s lying on the floor of his habsuite. Then he does remember when he hears you break into a run. Because you’re not under the berth anymore, you’re sprinting like your life depends on it and he lunges after you. “Wait!” You don’t even look back, throwing yourself at the grate covering a vent and wiggling through the slots as his spark constricts. Trying to hook his servos against the edges and pry the thing loose as he hears you running deeper inside. “That’s dangerous!” And he yanks the grate loose and lays flat to see inside, but you’re out of sight already.

• Running headlong, you round a bend and shriek when the floor just slopes sharply and you fall to go sliding. Coming to a stop when you hit something that falls on you and yelps at the bottom. Frantically clawing to get away, because you can’t see anything and someone kicks you in the gut. And when you hear the terrified swearing, you start laughing. “Great minds think alike,” you manage as you struggle to fend off your idiot coworker before they try to punch you in the face in their panic.

• Venting tiredly, he mass shifts and still has to bend low to fit through the gap. Wishes he knew the layout of the ventilation system or had time to pull it up, but you’re likely to get yourself hurt while he’s researching. And he’s always been more of an action over planning type. Wonders how well humans can see in the dark as he hears an echoing shriek. Not very well, he bets. Plating scraping the top of the vent, he makes his way forward in an awkward shuffle.

• Finding out your work bestie has been in the vents wandering aimlessly for hours according to their estimate isn’t exactly reassuring. It’s pitch inside, though occasionally there’s a tiny amount of light from a grate and they linger long enough to try and check if anyone is around. Because if they can get out of the vents and into whatever alien central is, they can try to find an open door and run outside. Hopefully. You know that’s a long shot as you trail after your buddy and stop short at a faint cry. Your friend turning to urgently wave you over, a finger pressed to their lips as you join them in peering through the slots. Realizing this vent is much higher up than yours had been and there’s a smaller blue and red alien. And a human. And they’re-oh. Clapping a hand over your mouth as the bot groans, hips pumping and his human begins urging him on. And you can’t breathe as you fight the urge to just start cackling and give yourself away. Because what the hell? At least with yours he’s too big to have nabbed you for that. Though that person seems to be having a hell of a time from the sound of it.

Previous

Next

[2222bad]

A BAD NEED

(michael’s so delicious and you can’t take it…) | 1.3k words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , oral (m!receiving) , sexual themes

through the front door to the foyer, you laughed into each other’s necks, holding each other close as if there were still prying eyes to lose. you turned no lights on, your eyes were far more keen on devouring each other. and michael could navigate his fortress with as much ease in the dark, even if he was blinded with his hands tied behind his back, so his lips seek to capture yours, he didn’t have to think twice.

“you’re so bad…” michael snickers as your lips connect, recounting the touches you just shared, as secretly as you could muster, in the back of his car.

“you started it…” you whine, coaxing him by the collar to keep his lips on you.

he practically cradles you as you move up the long staircase, his grip both on his banister and the nape of your neck, your hold so loose and lax around his bending shoulders. your arms lift, up and up. your lips mimick each other like a symphony; some kisses lingering, some deep, and deeper still with his so-wet tongue lacing yours with slow, decadent slips melting into melodic hums. as you gracefully ascend to the top of the landing, the light of the night reaches all around you through his tall, reverent windows. the two of you dance, it seemed, to the hallway where you stop him now. you couldn’t handle another step longer without feeling him.

you can’t tell if it was the liquor or him. you’ve been drinking both up all night, though michael has all the more power per volume than any bottle could keep. than any drink could punish you, you thought, with so much need and lust. what michael gives to you--does to you-- burns your body white hot, melts you hollow in your party dress every single time.

when you stop him, he holds your back with a widened palm to keep you close. you sway until you find each other, hip to hip, warmth pooling through both of your epicenters with love so exquisite, it tingled heartily through the both of you, being this close.

gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, so nicely steamed and silky even after a night of everyone fawning over him, you sigh into yet another riff of his tongue, sounding almost as if you were crying.

“michael,” you moan in between kissing. you can’t believe you're his. you can't fathom the beauty of him, so close and for you to touch. a hand goes to his face and cuts into his long, thick hair as if it would get him any closer. “oh, michael.”

“what?” he echoes back to you, a cocky smile forming, widening as he explores the feeling of his teeth now nudging against your open lips. “what is it, baby?”

your lips don’t answer with the words he wanted, just kissed and kissed him. on his cheek, along his chin, and down lower to suck the sinew of his neck, licking with a bad need along his exposed collar beneath the buttons that you’ve been skillfully undoing in all your desperation.

michael moans in awe of you, letting out a husky breath as he tries to make room for your mouth, his hand still holding you, squeezing your body at the jolt of every touch on his sensitive skin. “what’re you doin’?” he asks, playing at cluelessness.

your open mouth continues all down his body, hands bracing you as you slide down his clothed chest, his rib cage, his stomach. “i-i can’t take it…” your statement comes out in sobs, longing so deep it chokes you.

michael laughs slowly, his eyes staying on you, “i knew it…you’ve had that look in your eye all night…” your face buries into the ridge in the crotch of his dress pants, kissing his groin and legs with your hot, open mouth. michael hears you sniffle, his teeth sinking deeper into his swelling lip. “like you want somethin,’” he adds, sadistically, to his teasing, but you barely hear him over the drunkenness that’s found you.

you cross to his right hand, near shaking as you kiss the back of his fingers, feel his hard knuckles press against the tip of your nose. you love this. worshipping him. his breath, elated, getting louder and louder in your ears, his lust coming over him to whisper his nastiest thoughts to you, watching you, his body unable to do much else but melt and give in... his other hand adjusts himself over his pants quickly, a way to relieve his ache.

his fingertips crawl along your bottom lip, curious. then feel your cheek and hold your parted jaw. following your head as you sit back on your heels, he watches you tilt back and open your mouth. he gives you his thumb with a sly smile.

“you’re—“ he breaks into a fit of giggles when your tongue tickles the underside—“you’re such a bad girl…”

his affirmation finds you in a hum, glittering his voice as you latch around his thumb, then his first finger inches its way inside, then his middle, long and smooth, relieves his thumb so he could focus on adding his ring finger, playing with them on your tongue to remind himself of how you’ll feel on him for real.

your head spins in the bliss, savoring the salty taste between each long ridge that dissolves and flows back down your throat. you rock a little, lifting your dress higher on your legs before taking his fingers out of your mouth. with a bit less grace in the darkness, you start to undo his belt, feeling inside his parted slacks for his underwear, soft fabric pushing toward you, wanting you to feel him.

“baby…” you gasp, awed by his firmness growing long against your palm. you take out your hand, pulling his pants further down on his thighs.

“c’mon, you’re playin’ too much,” he gusts, a childish frustration running over his senses, and you bite back a giggle at his eagerness, a nerve to tease him further, before you reach back inside, concentrating on pulling him out all the way.

then his voice came to you again, he was always so light, so sweet. “look at me,” he coos, softly, “look at me while you’re doin’ it.” and his large hand, so gently calm, moves to encourage you, on the back of your head.

but he’s a gentleman, so he lets go of your head and lifts his arms up, holding his hair back to let him see you better. he’d always told you everything of his was yours.

you just take what’s yours, baby, he’d tell you.

so there was never any hesitation when you look up at him with the dreamy eyes he loves so bad, and slide his dick in your mouth. suckling as it stretches out your lips and you bob a little deeper, eyes blinking closed with a satisfied moan that rumbles in your throat.

“oh, baby…yes,” michael sighs, lifting the hem of his shirt above his belly, fingers splayed out wide and rattling a little with each gust of breath.

soon he can’t help it, his hands hold your head, and he’s dragging his hips back and forth into you, as much as you can take, taking pleasure from the easy slide of your blissful mouth, your warm, raised tongue creating a holy place, a ring of fire in him. a moan accompanies his hands sewing into your hair, gritted teeth follows his head lolling back. he closes his eyes and whines, out of breath, “never felt so good…”

a quiet stomp comes down beside you from his readjusted leg. he’s trembling, heart sprinting, he sees his peak coming soon; faster and faster as it comes down in waves from his shoulder blades, crashing lightning into his belly and pooling finally around his still-moving hips.

michael’s head falls back down to watch you. “look at me, baby,” he says again, his voice hushed and pleading. your eyes slide up, wet now; your eyebrows knitting, so he can watch the precious wrinkle show in your forehead. the one he sees when he knows you’re feeling just as good as him. the thought overwhelms him, and he looks so sweet and helpless to you, his face crinkling now as he lets out a final groan, his orgasm so fast, you grab hold of his thigh to steady him, a pretty little whine curling out of you in reply.

[gpcwsl]

Alessia Russo x Reader

- Birthday love -

WC: 912

MasterList

Warnings: kisses, neck kisses, short?

(Happy birthday, Alessia!)

The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains when you stir, careful not to wake the sleeping blonde beside you. Alessia is curled into the sheets, her arm lazily draped over your waist, her lips slightly parted as she sleeps soundly.

You smile to yourself. Today is February 8th, 2025—Alessia’s 26th birthday.

With the skill of someone who has done this a hundred times before, you gently slip out of bed, prying her arm off you without waking her. She grumbles slightly but doesn’t stir, still deep in her dreams.

Perfect.

You pad softly to the kitchen, getting straight to work on breakfast. Pancakes, fruit, a side of bacon—everything she loves. You even make her tea exactly how she likes it. You arrange it all on a tray and carefully bring it back to the bedroom.

She’s still in the same position when you enter, and for a moment, you pause just to admire her. She looks so peaceful like this, her blonde hair a mess against the pillow, her face relaxed. You almost don’t want to wake her.

But when you place the tray on the nightstand and lean down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, her eyes flutter open, blinking groggily.

“Happy birthday, love,” you murmur.

Alessia groans softly, stretching before her sleepy blue eyes land on the tray. A lazy smile tugs at her lips. “You made me breakfast?”

You nod. “I did.”

She sighs contentedly, then—before you can react—grabs your wrist and tugs you back into bed. You let out a small laugh as she buries her face into your neck, her arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Cuddles first,” she mumbles.

You chuckle, threading your fingers through her hair. “I knew you’d say that.”

She hums happily, placing a soft kiss on your jaw, then another just below your ear. Her lips trail down lazily, peppering gentle, innocent kisses along your neck.

“Alessia,” you warn, your voice betraying the shiver that runs through you.

She smirks against your skin. “What? It’s my birthday. I deserve all the affection.”

You roll your eyes fondly but let her continue, melting under her touch. Eventually, when breakfast starts getting cold, you coax her into sitting up and eating, though she still insists on holding your hand between bites.

By the time you both leave for training, she’s in the best mood possible, radiating happiness.

Leah Williamson and Beth Mead barely have time to breathe before Alessia is dragging them off to the side, her grip strong and unrelenting.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Beth grumbles, half-heartedly trying to pry Alessia’s hand off her arm. “Less, we just got here.”

“Yeah, and I need to talk to you,” Alessia insists, pulling them both further away from the group.

Leah sighs, already seeing where this is going. “If this is about Y/n—”

“Of course it’s about Y/n!” Alessia cuts in, eyes bright and full of excitement. “Guys, I swear, I am the luckiest person in the world.”

Beth groans. “Oh my god.”

Leah pinches the bridge of her nose. “Alessia, we’ve been through this.”

“No, no, but listen,” Alessia continues, completely ignoring their protests. “Y/n woke up early today—early—to make me breakfast in bed! She made pancakes, bacon, fruit, and tea! And then—then—she gave me all the cuddles I wanted. Literally just held me and let me kiss her for as long as I wanted.”

Beth looks to Leah, unimpressed. “We’re actually standing here listening to this.”

Leah sighs. “I know.”

Alessia doesn’t even register their disinterest. She’s too wrapped up in her own world, her hands gesturing dramatically as she speaks. “And when I say I am in love, I mean I am in love. Like, I don’t think people understand. Y/n is the best thing to ever happen to me. She’s perfect. Every single thing she does makes me love her more. I don’t know how it’s possible, but every day, I just wake up loving her even more than the day before.”

Beth groans louder this time. “Oh my god, please make it stop.”

Leah shakes her head. “We can’t. She’s too far gone.”

“I am so far gone,” Alessia confirms, eyes practically sparkling. “She’s just so beautiful, you know? And so kind. And funny. And smart. And did I mention beautiful?”

“About a thousand times,” Beth mutters.

“And the way she looks at me,” Alessia sighs dreamily. “Like I’m the only person in the world. Do you know how insane that is? Like, I can’t believe she chose me. Me.”

Leah gives Beth a knowing look. “She’s been like this for two years, and yet somehow, it’s getting worse.”

Beth deadpans, “I fear we’ve lost her completely.”

Alessia claps her hands together. “I should get her flowers.”

Beth blinks. “What?”

“For when I get home! I should get her flowers. She made my morning so special, I should return the favor.” Alessia nods to herself, already planning. “Yeah, I’ll stop by the shop after training.”

Beth throws her hands up. “I give up.”

Leah sighs, slinging an arm around Beth’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to warm-ups before she starts reciting poetry.”

Alessia doesn’t even hear them, too busy typing out a reminder on her phone.

Beth and Leah exchange a look before shaking their heads.

“Completely and utterly gone,” Leah mutters.

Beth nods. “Poor thing doesn’t even realize how whipped she is.”

[lake-snz]

Could You Zip Me Up? (f)

My friend asks me to come with them to the local outlet mall one April afternoon, and I, needing some new items myself, can’t think of any reason not to go.

After a quick sweep around the storefronts, we choose one to enter. Glancing around, I point my friend in the direction of some dresses in the back. We agree to split up for the time being. I take refuge in the front of the store, searching the racks for anything that catches my eye. I sift through the hangers, careful not to pull anything off in the process. I’m not alone. A worker stands not too far from me, seemingly in their own world, folding a pile of clothing.

I can’t be certain of why. It might be the pollen from being outdoors. It might be the store’s strong perfumes. It might even be a couple particularly dusty shelves. Whatever “it” is, it’s starting to sound my internal sneeze alarm. I sniffle helplessly, wondering to myself what the origins of this mystery tickle might be. The worker looks up from their pile, then back down again. It seems they’re trying not to pry into my obviously exponential struggle, a sentiment I appreciate. The wetness in my nose is beginning to make its way above my upper lip. I wish I had tissues with me, but I have none. I’m not good at preparing for allergy attacks in public; I prefer to believe I can handle even the strongest of itches. Instead of seeking out tissues immediately, I choose to look through a final rack.

Scrubbing under my nostrils, I think over the possibility of letting one fly. It’s tempting, and the mere idea excites my nose instantly. Coming alive and flaring, I allow the itchiness to become the sneeze that it wanted to be all along. With no tissues, I resort to turning my entire body away from the clothing rack. This way, I can coax it along without the stress of the worker watching my face contort with desperation. The tickle reaches its peak while my chest heaves. Hitching, I release the sneeze that was once trapped. Since my nose is already running, the sneeze presents itself in the form of a wet explosion. I catch it in my elbow and use my shirt sleeve to cover the mess of it all.

Now I really need a tissue. Sheepishly turning back toward the worker, I decide to head to the back of the store. Making brief eye contact with them as I pass, I silently thank them for not blessing me. This way, I can imagine they heard nothing at all.

I can only hope my friend is carrying some tissues today. I’m not sure how to tell them that if there’s nothing to blow my nose into, I won’t be able to stop sneezing.

I spot them in the clearance section, hidden behind mountains of clothes. Still sniffling, I decide to touch base on which items they found. My nose can wait. Or so I think to myself, wiping a finger under all the wetness. It doesn’t take long for them to take notice. Finally requesting some tissues, I bury my nose into one and blow. There’s some sort of allergen around, I just know it. Brushing off my sneezes as “unusual,” I try and hide that it’s an allergy attack. Unfortunately, my friend hasn’t seen anything yet.

It’s time to head to the fitting rooms… how will I cope with my insistantly sneezy nose being in such close proximity to a friend?

[lialucis]

Just laying here thinking about sirens and mermaids and just how they would change a human into their species because they just make such a better mate then another mer-person. Who will hover around you, whether you're a tank cleaner or a diver or an unlucky swimmer. Who subtly coaxes you down down down, and wraps you in their arms and tails and fins causing you to panic as you realize you're too deep and don't have enough air. Cheeks puffed up and your own tears mixing with the water, they can taste the difference. And they watch you with possessive hearts in their eyes, watching you slowly get closer and closer to the brink. Until they grant mercy, lips slotting against yours. Breathing new air into your lungs, drifting lower and deeper.

Making you entirely dependent on them and the air they give you, clinging to them, cupping their face, glueing your mouth to theirs. Unaware of the water they filter through their gills. Feeding into your lungs bit by bit, slowly initiating a change. Who caresses your body, claws and webbed fingers exploring your body. Mumbling against your lips words that fly over your panicked head. Pressing your mouth desperately to theirs, whimpering when the scaled digits stroke your spine. Tease your ear, brush your forearm, watching as the flesh begins to slowly shift and change.

Long prehensile tongue working its way into your mouth, brushing over the cute little teeth, your fat little tongue, working their way into your throat. Teasing your gag reflex, using the choking noise and instinctive gag and gasp to inhale more of that special air laden water. To make you even more desperate as they pull away, prying their mouth from yours. Reveling in the way you chase after them, after the air they offer you. Even as your little baby gills begin to slowly form, like a little guppy who can't even hold themselves up.

Letting you slot your mouth against theirs again, giving you more and more air and water, filling those silly useless human lungs to help you transition. Content only when there is no puff of air or bubbles leaving their nose as they exhale, only an exchange of pure water. Thumbs tracing your baby gills.

Some more inclined to bite and mark, to rend the flesh and open it to hasten your gills growth and formation.

Others brushing soft touches against your neck, coaxing the small flaps of the tiny gills. Allowing you to stay dependent on them like a little remora as they drift closer to their nest. Your body resting against theirs.

Admiring the way your skin begins to distort and change, small dots and lines of bioluminescent forming along where your bones are. The biters letting it be more wild and natural, prettier, more twisting patterns. Excited to see what you will become.

The gentle brushes and clinging type letting their little remora like mate slowly transition. Slowly replicating their own patterns, the safety and closeness influencing your change. Watching in wonder how some will grow extra features, different colors, new designs. And loving every new piece more and more, utterly smitten. Gentle fingers tracing over the new features.

The biters remora like mate transitions faster, more violently like how their skin was rent beneath a predators teeth. Makes them more aggressive, defensive, volatile. The urge to attack the one who changed them, to demand dominance. Refusing to let their 'air tank' go. Even as they don't realize they can breathe much easier through the blood and aching flesh.

The gentle remora like mate transitions slower, more gently, just as the touch against their gills was more reverent. Offering blunted bites against their mates wandering hands exploring their new features. Earning chuckles and adoring looks, baring their teeth, pricking at your mind as it rewires itself. Guides you into not being prey but a predator, to show you're not defenseless. Growls and purrs and curls their tail tighter when your teeth latch onto their jaw.

The aggressive mate, growling and flaring their fins when sharper more desperate teeth and claws dig into them. Fin and hair pulling and biting and bucking as their vulnerable gills area bitten into. A dominating gesture. Reveling in the silent MINE that the gesture eludes to.

The calmer mate, a bit antsy, careful as those growls and teeth get closer to their delicate gills. Who shudders when you sniff at them, who groans when you bump them with your nose. Who moans when you rest your chin on their shoulder, gills fluttering against each other. A submissive gesture, one that ensnares the mate even more. Arms and tail holding you close as you rest against them, scenting you as you close your eyes. Small sleepy bubbles escaping your lips as they rest with you laying across them. Back cushioned by their hoard you don't even glance at. So dependent on your mate to keep you and changing body safe.

The aggressive mate wrestling you into their nest, laying over you, pinning your clawing and biting self to the sand or stone. Protecting your back as your eyes lid, blood and scales drifting from your claws and teeth. Your aggressive mate who will violently and aggressively protect you even at the cost of their own life. Who will happily be torn in half by another predator as long as their little mate is safe.

And those who are changed, who's fins and tails or webbed toes grow in different manners depending how they're changed. An aggressive change and they have more sharper spines and ragged fins, more predator shaped. A gentle approach and their fins are more fluid, softer, prettier. But oh so distinct, known that they were not born as a mer-folk but turned into one. Who are clingy to their changers, their mates.

To those who have lost their mates, who wander on instinct and flare their fins at curious mer. Who will either need to be dragged and claimed to another nest, or gently coaxed and embraced into a pod. Who's songs are vastly different to the unchanged, songs mer have never heard. Songs that were not inherited, songs that are more hums and sighs. Quiet ballads, or aggressive songs that rattle their preys souls. That stun them or lull them into being vulnerable, of being prey. Unable to turn humans as they were turned, only able to look upon the surface world with their spotty memories. Some missing it and some not, this was their life now. Through hell or high water.

[luvmailing]

mean when i'm nervous.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited as BAWLS, dc writer newbie but im very enthusiastic abt the comics and shows and movies, dog metaphor but insane and unsubtle, explicitly vigilante!reader in dick grayson’s part, dramatic asf but not really angst 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. bruce wayne, clark kent, richard "dick" grayson, and john constantine

author's note: so. we all know what my favourite thing right now is (⌒_⌒;) i still adore everything i used to write for,,, but i’ve been on my comic motives recently (*ﾟｰﾟ*) ! reading dc mostly but spider-noir and deadpool have been picked up along the way!!! um. anyways. if i get comfy enough, i might do more dc stuff but i get that this isn't my exact audience on this blog— sorry my loves (´＿｀。) </3 might write a part two cuz i love jason. and booster gold. and like every single one of them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) halfway through writing this i realized everything feels very literal, so i feel the need to mention that this is not dog hybrid reader stuff but if u fw that u can imagine it that way

perhaps the habit of burning bridges you’re actively crossing isn’t a good idea. and you’re not an idiot, not in the slightest— but even if you were, everyone knows that needless self destruction when developing relationships is counterproductive.

you strike the match anyways, like it’s just a force of habit. another instinct.

if you spent life knowing that the hand only beats. why would you expect it to do anything else when it’s lowered towards you?

you learn to keep your hopes down, ears alert, and teeth sharp. you learn to get used to the taste of blood. to make things messy and complicated, and to end things when they need to be ended, because god knows it’s only self preservation when you do it.

you learn that the only way to survive is to bite— to hurt before something hurts you.

and one day, an unfamiliar hand that extends towards you decides to feed instead.

why do you still bare your teeth?

▸ BRUCE is unsure why he sticks around. he’s understanding, but also reasonably frustrated with your antics. it doesn’t evade him that they stem from something deeply rooted in your past— but he doesn’t know what to do about it. if there is anything to do.

at his core, he's a detective. he's got an eye for digging into strange pasts and a knack for knowing things he isn't supposed to. but in spite of his paranoia and hunger to know, bruce doesn't pry too much. he can do research on his own, without you ever having to realize.

you’re self-sufficient, he’ll give you that. you’re unsure sometimes of whether he’s proud that you can take care of yourself or irritated that you consistently insist on doing so. he’s unsure too. not like he lets you know.

it’s a mutual understanding the two of you share— he stays, you bite. yet bruce, unsurprisingly, doesn’t mind being bitten. he’d hope that the reason he’s sticking around is for the selfless reason of making sure you’re alright. though, the reality is, you’ve grown on him, whether you realize or not.

bruce has always been fond of strays.

▸ CLARK is nothing but patient. and that scares you beyond reason.

he sees the way you bare your teeth whenever someone gets too close for comfort to you. he knows when to back away, when to speak, when not to— he’s always attempting to never make you feel backed into a corner.

somehow, it makes you more anxious seeing just how much he understands about you. he knows just how to coax you out of the corner of your cage, how to bring you in closer, and it almost, almost convinces you to let your guard down.

the thought of that is terrifying.

you try barking, you try biting— and none of it works. clark doesn’t coddle you when you’re wrong— but he’s absolutely nothing but gentle. patient and understanding, sometimes you wonder how a man of steel can be so soft for someone like you.

▸ DICK isn’t dumb. it’s fairly easy for him to put two and two together. quickly, he figures out what he’s dealing with when he encounters you.

his conversations with you are never without a note of levity— a deliberate action on his end, you’re certain. he knows, you know, and because of it, everything feels oddly tense around him, even with the attempts to banter.

it’s too late to run. his observant gaze has caught a glimpse of you through your one way glass, and he’s chosen to meet your eyes with a smile. there's a sense of foreboding that gnaws at your gut, anxiously anticipating what might be lurking under that grin of his.

on his end, there are no malicious intentions. he doesn’t really have ulterior motives when it comes to you.

most times, he chooses to defend you and be the one standing at your side when no one else does. you don't understand why he insists on offering you friendship when all you do is pull away.

after a long night of patrolling the streets of gotham, you find the two of you leaning on the railing of a rooftop side by side. your eyes are on this cityscape of gotham. his are on you.

“you keep on insisting i’m not as bad as i seem,” you mutter under your breath.

late nights make for loose lips. he’s pleasantly surprised to hear you continue the thought instead of attempting to take it back.

“do you just hate being right?” you snort, allowing your gaze to flit over to him just for a second.

"no." dick smiles, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “i think you just hate the fact that i could be.”

▸ you tried not to bother with CONSTANTINE. the day the two of you met, you didn’t even introduce yourself.

john constantine’s presence alone reeks of trouble, as acrid and suffocating as the cigarette smoke that clings to his tan trenchcoat. you are attuned to things like that. he notices.

one thing you actually enjoy about him? he doesn’t chase. he’s a nosy one, for certain, sticking his nose into places no one in their right mind would— but for the most part, he steers clear of yours. initially, you think it’s because your urge to be left alone by him is so prevalent that he’s just chosen to heed the warning and not approach when unwanted.

but he’s not a man known for abiding by rules. he’s much more curious with you than you notice or prefer. in a way, your distance has made you more myth than man, more tale than tangible— you are a rumor passed through whispers between lips, a silent shadow lurking in the corner of the room… and he loves a good mystery.

“c’mon. you're actin’ like ‘m gonna bite your head off, luv,” he chuckles, lighting up the cigarette between his fingers.

i'd probably be the one doing that if i got any closer. you keep that thought in your head, standing with a gap between the two of you as always.

he doesn't miss how you avoid looking into his eyes like his gaze could murder, instead, focusing your gaze on the cherry of the cig, burning bright red.

“not much for a wee natter, hm?”

the quick shake of your head only makes his smirk grow. you could just walk away… so why exactly were you sticking around?

“fine by me. quiet company’s welcome.” that’s a sentence he’d probably never say to anyone else. in a strange way, he feels like he knows you well enough to be comfortable with the words that hang in the air.

it’s weird. you’re completely unknown, and yet, an irrational part of his mind keeps nagging at him to look just a little closer at you. sometimes, when he listens to it, he catches a glimpse of something silent in your eyes— an all too familiar pain of a person who can’t help but hurt the things that they cling onto.

so that’s why you’re keen on keeping everyone at arms length. it almost makes him laugh to think how similar the two of you are, plain as day, and yet unnoticed by you— a person who won’t even meet his eyes.

— reblogs always appreciated!