#also to just keep on my tumble shit

[cookiescr]

Dang I probably need a therapist

[sanerontheinside]

PCOS more of a bucket diagnosis for a number of presentations that indicate a tendency towards ‘metabolic disease’—which is super general but there are some common trends

higher testosterone/androgen presence correlated with insulin resistance

this also correlates with weight gain

additionally this all correlates with irregular menstrual cycles (too frequent, every 2 weeks; or on the opposite extreme, too rare—or something entirely irregular)

and yeah it also correlates with hirsutism. think triangle of dark hair running up to the belly button, darker hairs on chin and upper lip.

fun fact tho. there’s no causality here. weight gain may ‘cause’ insulin resistance or conversely insulin resistance may ‘cause’ weight gain—all we know is that something went wrong and got out of balance. so.

in the end, all this is literally just possible presentations of ‘PCOS’. you can get a person who is not overweight, is insulin resistant, has mild hirsutism (socially acceptable 🙄) and has had regular (tho heavy and painful) periods pre-covid, and they have no cysts. and they still get a diagnosis of pcos and hormone replacement and—oh yep that’s me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now back to the original point, re: no threshold levels of testosterone for reference.

there are certain hormonal levels that it’s not actually … possible to test. The easiest endocrine disorders are the ones where you are able to say ‘oh there’s too much/too little of x hormone’ (eg hypo/hyperthyroid).

But!

Even if you try to time it right, you can’t measure (for example) all the main hormones involved in the menstrual cycle (of which testosterone is one), and get a result that’s possible to interpret. First of all, every person’s baseline is different. Second, the entire web of hormones and their precursors is interconnected.

And at every stage you have receptors for these hormones (what if you have fewer receptors than you need? or what if some of them are broken?). It’s possible to have blockers for them too (see: anyone taking supplements)—so whatever you consume affects the amount of any hormone your body produces/uses/circulates inactive in your bloodstream

So. Tl;dr: because everybody’s body is different and everybody’s environment is different, and there are multiple ways your body can handle hormones internally, it is not actually possible to develop a useful metric for these hormone levels.

(and before you go what the fuck please remember we can’t measure physical quantities of dopamine and serotonin and see how much of those are used, either.)

I forget why, but I was on the Wikipedia page for polycystic ovarian syndrome, and I started researching hirsutism in women, and I learned the following things in this order:

there's a diagnostic criteria used to evaluate how hairy a woman is

This is important because being too hairy is a diagnostic criteria of most disorders that cause hyperandrogenism

Disorders that cause hyperandrogenism can be diagnosed by...measuring how hairy you are (this is the main and most important diagnostic criterion for PCOS)

Disorders that cause hyperandrogenism are important because they are correlated with obesity, infertility, and...being too hairy?

I think to myself, wait, what is a normal range for testosterone in women? I find this article...which set reference ranges for "normal" testosterone levels in women...EXCLUDING WOMEN WITH PCOS?

Quote: "Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) is another notable condition in genetic (XX) females, which is characterized by excessive ovarian production of androgens. This condition is included for comparison with DSD, as the affected females with PCOS are genetic and phenotypic females. The elevated levels of testosterone in these females can lead to hyperandrogenism, a clinical disorder characterized variably by hirsutism, acne, male-pattern balding, metabolic disturbances, impaired ovulation and infertility. PCOS is a common condition, affecting 7%-10% of premenopausal women."

So: the study claims to demonstrate a clear distinction between the normal range of hormone levels in "Healthy" men and "healthy" women...with "healthy" being defined in the study as...having hormones within the "normal" range.......................

So I researched what the clinically established "normal" range for testosterone in women is

THERE ISN'T ONE????

Quote from the above article: "Several different approaches have been used to define endocrine disorders. The statistical approach establishes the lower and the upper limits of hormone concentrations solely on the basis of the statistical distribution of hormone levels in a healthy reference population. As an illustration, hypo- and hypercalcemia have been defined on the basis of the statistical distribution of serum calcium concentrations. Using this approach, androgen deficiency could be defined as the occurrence of serum testosterone levels that are below the 97.5th percentile of testosterone levels in healthy population of young men. A second approach is to use a threshold hormone concentration below or above which there is high risk of developing adverse health outcomes. This approach has been used to define osteoporosis and hypercholesterolemia. However, we do not know with certainty the thresholds of testosterone levels which are associated with adverse health outcomes."

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

It's batshit crazy to make a diagnostic criteria for medical disorders by placing arbitrary cutoffs within 2-5% of either end of a statistical distribution. What the actual fuck?

"The results came back, you have Statistical Outlier Disease." "What treatments are available?" "Well, first, we recommend dietary change. You should probably stop eating so many spiders."

Another article which attempted to do this

Quote: "Subjects with signs of hirsutism or with a personal history of diabetes or hypertension, or a family history of polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) were excluded."

"We're going to figure out the typical range of testosterone levels that occur in women! First, we're going to exclude all the women that are too hairy from the study. I am very good at science."

Anyway I got off topic but there are apparently race-specific diagnostic tools for "hirsutism." That's kinda weird on its own but when I looked more into this in relation to race I found this article that straight-up uses the term "mongoloid"

[snekdood]

any time ive been scared or paranoid about something and ppl dismissed me bc of my past but i ended up being right- those ppl owe me 100 dollars.

[rosenclaws]

Birds of a Feather || Old Man!Logan x Reader x Worst!Logan

summary: Logan loves you even if he can't say it but he knows that given his old age he's been lacking in the intimacy area. When a strange portal opens up and another Logan tumbles out of it, things get a little messy. (Or Worst Logan cucks Old Man Logan)

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, cucking, fingering, rough sex, cum eating, masturbation, thigh riding, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, mating press, doggy style, dirty talk, kinda mean!worst logan (he taunts old man logan a lot), slight pain kink (Logan), ass play, nipple play, breast play. Also neither logan ever interact with each other beyond talking.

a/n: Soooo Merry Christmas!! Here is my gift to all of you lmao. So to set a few things up, At the start both men are called Logan but a couple paragraphs in is when I separate them into James and Logan. I really hope it doesn't get confusing but I did my best lol. I really hope this lives up to peoples expectations im kinda nervous lol. Anyways happy holidays and I hope u love it!!!

Logan was an old man now. The adamantium was seeping itself into his blood. Killing him. It had been for years but with his healing factor starting to fail him the poisoning was truly taking its effect. He was weaker, tired. His heart was touched by a poison and it was turning him cold. There's only one good thing in his life now and it's you.

You're too kind. He tried to keep you away from his fucked up life but you were relentless. You were an experienced nurse who could take care of Charles. Free of charge. He fought you at every step of the way. Not wanting your pity. But he caved. 

Eventually you started taking care of him too. You were just too pretty, too charming. He couldn't stay away. This old man doesn't believe he gets to be happy and you try to change his mind every day. He did his best to take care of you too but the one area he knows he's lacking is the sex life. He tries, he really does. But he's old and while you're the sexiest thing on the planet, sometimes he just can't keep it up or he just can't finish.

It's embarrassing. Humiliating. You wave him off, telling him that it's not a big deal. That he still pleases you in a million other ways. Riding his face, his big fingers, you don't need his cock to know that he can take care of you. But it still bothers him. Still you lived your lives and things were fine. Until something weird happened. Really fucking weird. A large yellow portal opened up in your house. Logan bared his claws and pushed you behind him, ready to fight whatever the hell stepped out of it. 

To both of your shock another...him? 

Beaten up and bruised but its him. He looked younger but his hair was in these little tuffs and he was wearing a god awful yellow suit. He was kind of cute. Is this what your Logan would have looked like when he was younger? You snap out of your thinking, this is another man. It's Logan but not Logan. 

"Fucking shit!" The other Logan yells as the yellow door closes behind him. 

"Wade you dumb motherfucker I'm going to rip your head off!" He roars. He turns around, wiping the blood from his face. His eyes go wide when he sees you. He calls your name and steps towards you. Your Logan growls, putting up his claws. 

"Back the fuck up bub." The other Logan looks between the two of you and just narrows his eyes. Both their shiny claws come out to threaten the other. 

"Logan?" You call softly. Both of the men turn to you. 

"Can we just talk?" They look at each other and slowly retract their claws. 

After getting both of them to calm down the other guy explains exactly how he got there. He's from another universe, another time. He was pulled from his world into this one by an asshole with a stupid face and red suit. His stupid friend was messing with a little time machine thingy he stole and now he's here. That was his summary of things. You...tried to grasp it. You live in a world with mutants so time travel and universe hopping wasn't exactly strange. But to see another Logan. He also keeps glancing at you. 

Every time he does James, you've decided to start calling your Logan by his childhood name to make it easier, James tightens his grip on your hand. The way this other Logan looks at you, they're such sad eyes. He must have had a you in the other universe. 

"You can stay with us for a while, until you can get back to your time." You offer sweetly. 

"Thank you sweetheart." Logan's hands twitch, like he wants to reach out for you but he doesn't. James reluctantly gets up, pointing to the spare room and keeping his eyes on Logan's every move. 

"Don't drink my liquor." James mumbles as he heads to your bedroom. 

"He's the anchor being, really?" Logan whispers but you catch him. 

"What was that?" Logan freezes and turns to you.

"Nothing sweets," He flashes a smile you know he's lying. This Logan has the same tell as your own. 

"Who am I? In your world?" You ask curiously. Logan's face drops and he seems to close up. 

"No one, just a friend." He stalks to his room and closes the door behind you. Sighing you wonder what you've got yourself into now.

Living with two wolverines was not easy. Especially for you. They didn't get along and you had to play peacemaker. It was exhausting. Logan was nice enough to you but closed off and James was pissed off and protective. You were worried they'd slit each other's throats.

Plus...it was hard living with two Logan's when they were both ridiculously attractive. You never wanted anyone else but James. But this was just confusing. He was James but he wasn't but he looked like him and fuck he was ripped. James had a body to envy but so did Logan.

You were ashamed to admit you thought about Logan, just a little bit. You never let it go far but your dreams ran wild. They were hot and dirty and you woke up feeling soaked and guilty. You didn't say a word to James or Logan. What good could come of that? But they're perceptive men and you could feel Logan's eyes on you in the mornings. James' too. You couldn't escape them forever.

You should have known something was up the moment you walked through the front door and saw both boys sitting together in the living room. Normally they'd stay far away from each other.

"Hi..." You say suspiciously as you set down the grocery bags. 

"Come here." James pats his lap and you walk over. He pulls you down onto his knee and smashes his lips onto yours. You can't help but moan as his hand squeezes your ass. 

"James!" You moan as you try to push him away. You look over at Logan who was watching with hungry eyes. Licking his lips as his eyes trail up and down your body. 

"We had a talk sweetheart," Logan's voice is deep and primal as he stands up and grabs your chin.

"We both know what you want. The old man over here can't fuck you the way you want to be fucked." James tightens his grip on your waist as Logan flirts up a storm. 

"I...James I-" You look at James with a guilty look on your face. 

"It's okay honey, I want you to feel good." He says while glaring at Logan. He isn't going to just hand you over, but he knows you crave to be destroyed, ruined and he can't do that for you anymore. So reluctantly, he's going to let his other self fuck you. 

"Rule one. You don't get to come inside." James situates you on his thigh. Slowly rocking you on it until you're squirming. 

"Rule two. She says stop, you stop." Logan eyes your cleavage with a hungry look. 

"And rule three. You don't get to kiss her." He says possessively. 

Logan rolls his eyes but agrees to the terms. The three of you head to the bedroom. James sits on a chair facing the bed. He groans as his bones creak. You shoot him a worried look but he waves you off. Unbuttoning his pants and letting his cock free. Logan pulls your focus as he leaves hickeys up your shoulder, sucking on a particular spot on your neck. 

"Shit.." You groan. How did he know that was your sweet spot? You don't have much time to think as you hear a claw come out. Logan waits and you nod your head. He cuts through your clothes and they fall to the floor in shreds.

"Fuck." Logan groans as his hands trail up your body. Your bare skin drives him nuts. He closes his eyes as he takes his time exploring. Committing your body to memory, each curve and dip. 

"Missed this." He whispers softly for only him to hear. 

"Lay down sweetheart." Logan hums and you obey. Crawling onto the bed as Logan sheds his yellow suit. Your eyes trail down his built chest to his already hard cock. 

"Damn." 

"As big as your boyfriends over there?" Logan says with a smirk. 

He kneels onto the bed and grabs your legs, putting them around his waist as he bends down and goes back to biting your neck. Your nails dig into his biceps as you buck your hips. His cock presses against your thigh as he moves down your body. Stopping at your breasts, squeezing and teasing one of your nipples while sucking on the other. You whine when he bites down. Licking over the spot he bit. 

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." He smiles through his apology. He moves down your stomach and rests himself in between your legs. 

"Let's see how sweet you taste." You gasp as he buries himself into your cunt. His hands locking you in place, not letting you move against his pleasurable assault. 

"Logan!" You moan as you claw at his hair. Raking your hands through it until you find a grip. Pulling on it only eggs him on. His tongue moves against your clit over and over again. He refuses to let up as your moans get louder. You try to move but Logan growls like an animal. 

"Don't fucking move." He licks his lips as he raises his head. He looks over to James and smirks. 

"I see why you're so protective, wouldn't want to share a girl as sweet as this either." You look over to James who was slowly stroking his cock. It was painful watching another man feast on his cunt but he can see how much you're loving it. 

"Play with your tits." James commands as Logan goes back down. 

You listen and slowly play with your nipples. Squeezing your breasts and arching your back when Logan sticks his tongue into your cunt. Fuck he knows what he's doing.

"I can't- fuck! I-" Your back arches high as Logan sucks on your clit. 

He doesn't let up. One of his hands lets go of your thigh and his thumb presses on your clit. His tongue is now moving to your cunt. You roll your hips as Logan fucks you with his tongue and rubs your clit with his thumb.

It's a deadly combination that leaves you helpless. You come around his tongue hard. He groans as you leak around him. Licking up the sweet taste until he's satisfied. As you start to relax you feel Logan's tongue back on your clit. 

"Fuck!" You gasp in surprise as he places himself back on your cunt. 

"Too much! Can't take it!" You claw at the sheets but Logan pays no mind. 

"You can take it, always have you crying on my face." James says huskily. 

He wants a taste, mouth watering at the sinful sounds of your went pussy. Tears threaten to fall as Logan shoves two fingers into your cunt. He fucks you like he knows you, curling his fingers just how you like it. The sounds of your cunt get louder as he roughly fingers you. 

"One more come on, fuck give me one more." Logan props himself on his elbow as he pistons his fingers into you. 

"No No I can't." You cry. You don't want him to stop but it's so overwhelming. It's too much pleasure. 

"Yes you can." Logan cups your cheek and wipes away a stray tear. 

"I got you," Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you come again. Your cunt clenching around his fingers as soak his hand. Both of them watch in awe as you make a mess. 

"Knew you could take it." Logan takes his fingers out and sucks them clean. He eyes James who hasn't taken his eyes off your cunt. 

"Want a taste old man?" You look over with pleading eyes at your boyfriend. You need him too. He winces as he stands up but leans down and gets between your legs. 

"Shh baby, just want a taste." James squeezes your thighs softly.

Your cunt twitches as he leans down and takes a fat lick up. You're on edge from your previous orgasms and it's borderline painful. Both men look up at you when you gasp. 

"I'm okay, just please be gentle." Your lips form into a small pout and James melts. 

"Course baby," He takes a few soft licks and you sigh as Logan strokes his cock. 

He takes your hand and wraps it around his cock. Fuck he's big and hard and leaking over your hand. You can't help but notice it's different from your Logan too. But you keep that thought to yourself. James grunts as he gets back to his feet. His beard slick with your juices. He slips two fingers into your cunt and pumps them slowly. 

"Did so good, baby." He praises and you smile. You bite your lip and close your eyes as you take in James' thick fingers. They work you like magic, he knows you inside and out. 

"Are you gonna take my cock now sweetheart?" Logan purrs in your ear. 

"Tell me, what dirty fantasies do you have up there." Your breath catches in your throat as he cups your breasts in his hands. 

"Any positions you want to try? Face down ass up is always a favorite of mine, or I can put your legs on my shoulders and press you into the mattress." You moan just picturing each scenario in your head. 

"I can hold you against the wall. Bounce you on my cock so you're forced to take every inch of me.

"Even better, we can do all three." Logan lets go of you and nods his head, telling James to go sit down. James takes his fingers out and brings them to your lips, pushing them into your mouth as you suck on them like he trained you to do. 

"You okay?" James asks and you nod. 

"M'alright baby, are you okay?" You reach up and grab his hand, squeezing it gently. Is he still okay with this? If he's too uncomfortable you'd stop but he just smiles. He leans down and kisses your head, then moves to sit back down. 

"You've been talking a lot of shit bub." James says gruffly as Logan nudges his cock at your cunt. You're on your back with Logan pressing your hands into the mattress. 

"Don't worry old man, I'll take care of her." He slides in and you moan. He's going too slow, relishing with every inch.

"Faster!" You beg but Logan doesn't listen. Instead he pushes all the way in, balls deep and throbbing just being in your sweet cunt. 

"Oh fuck yeah." Logan purrs as he draws his hips back, slamming them back into you.

His pace is slow and hard. He watches your breasts bounce with each thrust, enjoying the way they move because of him. He's still got you pinned down and you want to move, you want to hold onto him as he fucks you but he won't let you. Logan's got stamina and it's clear as he doesn't let up. 

"Logan I-" He growls and pulls out much to your dismay. Manhandling you to your knees, grabbing your neck and forcing you to look right at James. You couldn't meet his eyes as Logan sinks back into you. 

"Ah ah, don't you want him to see how good you feel?" Logan says in a mocking tone. Smirking as he sees the fire lit in James' eyes.

"It's okay baby." James says as your head falls down to the comforter. Logan's just so big. He's overpowering all of your senses. He just keeps going and going. Logan tilts his head back as he digs his fingers into your hips. 

"Such a tight fucking cunt." He presses your face into the bed and grabs a handful of your ass. Pounding his hips into your pussy and loving every little noise he's fucking out of you. 

"She likes it when you choke her." James says, his breath ragged as he watches you get fucked. Logan chuckles and puts his hand around your neck.

"Of course she does, such a dirty little whore you got on your hands." His mouth is filthy, the degradation pouring from his mouth with ease.

James mixes his praise with his meanness but Logan is pure filth. The pressure on your throat sends you into fucking orbit. A fat cock pounding your sweet spot and rough hand on your throat is lethally delicious. You could die happy. 

"That's it, just let me use you sweetheart. Doesn't that sound fun? Being my little toy? Our little toy?" You look at James who's perked up at the mention of him, your cunt clenching around Logan's cock. 

"Oh that got you interested huh?" Logan teases. 

"You can be our plaything sweetheart, just nothing but a couple holes for us to use. Big man over here can stick his cock down your throat while I get the back." Logan rubs his hand along your ass, his thumb trailing down until its teasing your asshole. 

"He ever been in here before?" 

"O-Once." You mewl as he presses his thumb, not breeching you yet but knowing he could if he wanted to. 

"Is it as tight as her cunt?" He asks James. 

"Even tighter." James spreads his legs, he was getting hot. He sheds his jacket and unbuttons his white button up. Being this old and still ripped was so fucking unfair. His pants were already at his ankles and his cock was stirring just remembering that day.

How you cried and whined as he prepped you with his fingers. How fucking tight you felt when he slid his cock in. You were a mess, babbling and whining and begging to be ruined. James opens his eyes and sees you staring at him. Hunger in your eyes as you take in your handsome boyfriend. You may be getting fucked by another man but you only ever want James. 

“Maybe next time." Logan moves his hands back up your body.

He sits back on his knees. His hands come to your breasts and pull you up so your back is against his chest. His cock somehow sits deeper as he bounces his hips up and down, spearing his cock deeper and deeper. One of his arms wraps around your waist while the other plays with your breasts. 

"Logan!" You chant over and over. He's grunting in your ear whispering dirty things that only you can hear. 

"I know you're loving this sweetheart, you may love the old man but you love my cock more." You whine, words failing you as you try and talk. You start to go limp in Logan's grasp so he tightens his hold. 

"Come for me sweetheart, go on." He purrs as he lets go of your breasts to pleasure your clit. Rubbing small circles until you're squirming out of his grip, or trying to.

"It's okay, I got you." Logan whispers as you tilt your head back into his shoulder. 

Eyes rolling back as you fully submit to the man. Your legs shake uncontrollably as you come harder than you have in a while. He holds you up as you melt, your vision blurring as you're sent to cloud nine. You were clawing at his arms, digging your nails into him until he bleed which only made things better for Logan as he humps you like a crazed animal. Grunting and groaning. 

"Fuck!" He lets go of you to pull out, whimpering at the loss of your wet cunt.

He's rough with his hand as he jerks himself until he comes all over your back. Hot cum spurting from his cock and drenching itself on your skin. Your eyelids are heavy as you collapse into the bed, your body aches with a delicious sort of pain. With all the energy you could muster you glance over at James. He had cum staining his chest, breath ragged. He was worn out just from watching. 

"I love you." You say softly, reaching out for him. Your hand doesn't make it very far so he meets you halfway. His pants pulled up and cum still on his stomach. 

"Feel good baby?" He pets your head and you nod sleepily. Logan has gone off to take care of himself. Redressing into that god awful suit and coming back with a towel. 

"Can I?" He looks over at James who nods. Gently he wipes his cum off your back, cooing when he accidently stimulates your clit again. 

"Sorry sweetheart, just gotta get you nice and clean." Logan looks at James before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

James doesn't argue. Once you're cleaned up James tucks you into bed. He sits on the edge as you curl into his lap. Logan comes back with water and a towel for James. You're sound asleep by the time he's back. Logan smiles at you with a fondness that James can only recognize as love. 

"You know her." Logan looks up and shrugs. "Heard her say she was just a friend. You were lying." James continues. He knows Logan was lying because they're one in the same. They may not like each other but they knew each other better than anyone ever could, even you. 

"Look. You may think your life is fucking miserable but you had your family, you have her. You don't know how lucky you have it." Logan growls. 

"Lucky? You think becoming a shell of who we were is lucky?" James feels the anger surging inside of him. 

"At least she's alive in your world." Logan hisses. The truth comes out. Why Logan worked you like he already knew you, why he looked at you with such sad eyes. Why he listened to you. James caught all of it from the start but you never did. He looks down at you and you barely stir. 

"What happens to us, in the future?" James asks while staring at you. Timelines don't need two of the same man and he knows that. He just needs to hear it. "I don't think I'm supposed to say." Logan mumbles. 

"Who fucking cares?" Sighing Logan looks over at you before revealing the truth. 

"You die and your world starts to fall apart, that's why I got pulled into it."

James knew that death was coming. He could feel it. He had been slowly dying his whole life. That's not what bothers him. There's only one thing holding him back in being ready for the end. You. He can't leave you alone but it sounds like he does anyway. Failing you once again. 

"What about her? Is she okay?" 

"Yes.” James nods, he doesn’t ask what happens. He doesn’t want to know. As long as you’re okay then that’s all that matters. 

“Take care of her. Please.” James asks, for once letting Logan see his gruff façade break. 

It feels like an odd request. Both of them know it, but he wants you to be safe and protected and no one will love you more than him. In any timeline, any universe, he loves you. 

“I will.” Logan promises.

The two of them don’t share many words after that. It’s not like they’re suddenly friends now but they’re less hostile towards each other.

Eventually the strange yellow portal appears once again and Logan leaves. The time he spent here feels like a fever dream. Maybe it was? But you notice that James holds you a little tighter for a little longer now. He also rests a little easier. He knows where he’s headed, what’s to come.

But its a little easier knowing that no matter what, you’ll always have him. 

[rafey-baby]

forbidden fruit 2

Once upon a time there was a princess and a hunter...

snow white!reader x hunter!rafe

c/w: mentions of violence & murder, one bed (my fav cliche ever!), slightly suggestive, also if it’s not obvious this is *loosely* based on the story of snow white, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.4k

is he warming up to her? #it’s hard to tell

series masterlist

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

“Have you ever considered a less...um, violent job?” she asks, nausea coiling in her guts at the mere thought of harming— let alone killing an innocent animal.  

The inky sky has turned into an even gloomier hue, and if it wasn’t for the luster of the moonlight illuminating their journey, they wouldn’t be able to see a thing. However, it’s still a challenge for them (her) to evade the thick roots hiding underneath the spongy moss and brittle lichen— she thinks her fingers aren’t enough to count the times Rafe has had to prevent her from toppling over onto the soil with a steadying grip on her arm.  

At this point, she can’t comprehend how he even knows where they’re going. She thinks that every rock and tree trunk they pass resembles the last but apparently, he’s using them to track the route to his cabin— something he tried to teach her about two hours ago, but gave up the moment her attention was captured by a tiny squirrel hurriedly scampering off into its hiding spot.   

“If I’m bein’ honest, I think killin’ is the only thing m’good for at this point,” he murmurs while inspecting a fallen spruce in the middle of their path. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she argues, rounding the obstacle while he simply steps over it.   

“Tha’s cause you don’t know me. Listen, m’not…m’not a good person, I’ve done some, uh, real shitty things, alright?” he looks over to her, gemstone eyes sullen.   

She wonders if the real shitty things include other people’s blood on his hands. After all, the queen wouldn’t have asked him to end her life if he’d never done it before. A shiver creeps up her spine when a vivid image of him doing something so remorseless flashes in her mind.  

However, it’s soon replaced by him dropping the knife and sparing her life, even if it meant complicating his own.   

“I think…a bad person wouldn’t be helping me right now,” her words are honest but he doesn’t offer her a reply, merely flits his eyes over her frame with a furrow in his brow.   

They fall into a serene silence, wordlessly treading further and further into the somber forest while she keeps getting distracted by the glittering stars above them; mesmerized by the beauty of something so far away from all the cruelty on this planet.   

However, when she goes on to take her next step, the ground (or what she thought was the ground) suddenly cracks underneath her, the partly frozen lid of the pond shattering with a loud crackle— only a surprised squeal leaving her throat when she loses her footing and tumbles right into the frigid water with a splash.   

Turns out, it’s not just some small little puddle that’s partly covered by fallen leaves and branches, but a rather deep one; saturating her all the way up to her neck as she gasps for breath when the coldness surrounds her helpless limbs.  

“Shit.”   

She hears Rafe hiss before humored laughter bubbles from his chest.  

“Rafe, this is not funny,” she complains with her teeth chattering when the icy liquid soaks through the fabric of her dress in an instant.   

“M’sorry, you jus’ look like a wet kitten right now,” he shakes his head, chuckling as he extends an arm towards her— pulling her up and steadying her with a firm grip on her waist.  

“Ow,” she cries out when she leans her weight on her left foot.   

“What’s wrong?” he seems almost concerned as he scans her for any visible injuries.   

“Think I sprained my ankle, it hurts,” she frowns, reaching for his forearm for balance.   

“Of course you did, told you to be careful,” he clicks his tongue, slightly annoyed at the fact that she really is a helpless case. “Can you walk?”   

“I don’t know…” she mumbles; face crumpling up when she tries to take a step forward.   

“Right, uh, c’mere then,” he huffs out before his hands are on her waist once more and he’s lifting her into his arms like a bag of flour.   

“Oh, you don’t have to—”   

“There’s no way you’re walkin’ right now,” he scoffs as he shifts her into a better position before he’s continuing their trek. “What would you even do without me, hm?”   

“Probably freeze to death like you said,” she pouts, eyes despondent when she leans into his supportive hold.  

“Yeah.”   

“M’sorry,” she sniffles, the ache in her foot combined with him being mad at her causing her eyes to burn.  

“Shouldn’t be that long ’till we’re there, princess. Think you can manage not to cry before we get there?” 

“I don’t know…it hurts and m’cold,” she sulks, feeling miserable, even if she knows she should be grateful she’s not dead or alone in the woods right now.   

“You’re a big girl, know you can take it. You’ll feel better soon, yeah?” he attempts to provide her some sort of comfort with his limited knowledge of handling something so fragile.   

She hums out something incoherent in response, weak arms wrapping around his neck as she takes in a shaky inhale— damp skin prickling under the chilly air that’s making the leafy trees sway back and forth, reminding her of shadowy ghosts.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -   

“Uh, think there should be a dry shirt for you here somewhere…” he trails off as he goes through his closet. “This is probably a little too big but should be fine, yeah?”   

The cabin is small and secluded; the darkened walls blending in with the rest of the forest and concealing them from the outside, making her feel strangely secure. However, his taste in decor makes her rather uneasy as she tries to desperately focus on the crackling fireplace beginning to warm up her trembling limbs and not the assortment of dead animals and their fur or other body parts on display.   

“Oh, it’s perfect, thank you,” she tears her eyes from the elk antlers presented on the wall, offering him a tense smile when she takes the cottony shirt from him; the material surprisingly soft between her fingertips. 

However, before he has the chance to leave the bedroom in order to give her some privacy, she timidly speaks up again, words clumsy and hurried. “Could you— um, could you help me undress? This corset is quite impossible to take off by myself…especially now that it’s wet.”  

“Uh, right, yeah,” he clears his throat, gesturing for her to turn around before he’s pulling her closer by a grip on her hips, the wooden floorboards creaking underneath their feet making up for the sudden silence.  

She doesn’t know why the gesture feels almost intimate or why it makes her hold her breath when he begins to unfasten the strings holding the corset top together, but a strange shade of suspense colors the air around them nonetheless. 

“A tight little thing, huh?” he rasps as his fingers deftly work on the satiny ribbons— a process that feels eternal while she tries not to pay any mind to the way her heart keeps thumping louder and louder by each passing second. 

When she finally feels the silky material loosening around her middle, she has to will her erratic breathing to slow down as he unhooks the rest of the dress— the fabric forming a pearly white puddle on the floor.  

Then, he’s wordlessly slipping his shirt over her head; the sleeves far too long and the hem fitting her more like a short nightgown.  

“Thanks,” she swallows before she’s gingerly turning around, lacking the courage of looking him in the eye for any longer than a glance.       

“Right, uh, we should get some sleep. You can take the bed ’n I’ll sleep on the floor, yeah?”  

And she’s already nodding before the words register in her disconcerted brain. “Wait, no, it’s your bed. I can sleep on the floor,” she argues immediately, momentarily forgetting why she was so shy in the first place when the weight of being an inconvenience builds up on her shoulders.   

“Nah, m’not gonna let a fuckin’ princess sleep on the floor. S’fine, jus’ take the bed, I don’t want it. Need to make sure we weren’t followed anyway,” he grumbles, attempting to leave the room once more.  

“Rafe, you need sleep just as much as I do. It’s the middle of the night, my stepmother doesn’t even know what you did yet. She’s expecting you to return tomorrow, right?” she tries to reason, not willing to give in because letting him sleep comfortably is the least she can do to even begin returning the favor.  

He lets out a weary sigh before shrugging off his jacket, far too worn out to argue. “Yeah, alright, guess you have a point.”   

- - - - - - - - - - - - -   

They end up sharing the bed.    

And once they’ve both settled into the opposite sides, she’s far too intimidated by Rafe’s disgruntled aura to utter out anything other than a whispered goodnight before it’s quiet once more.    

However, as the night stretches on, she begins to grow restless; tossing and turning on the creaky mattress and driving Rafe mad in the process.

She doesn’t mean to, the last thing she wants is to disturb his rest but her thoughts are racing and she can’t seem to close her eyes for more than a few seconds because truthfully, she feels terrible— everything familiar has been turned upside down in the span of a day and the only life she knows has practically ceased to exist. All she wants is to go home but that’s not an option anymore and it’s scary. 

“Hey, uh, you good?” Rafe’s sudden drawl makes her flinch.    

“Sorry, can’t sleep,” she peeps out, expression apologetic when she twists to face him, causing the sheets to rustle around them.    

“Yeah, me neither since you keep movin’ around like a lunatic,” he grumbles, irritation clear in his tone.   

“M’sorry. Just can’t stop thinking about everything and I just…I’ve never understood why she hates me so much,” she breathes out, features contorting into something heavy-hearted as she chews on her bottom lip. 

He blinks tiredly; movements lethargic when he runs a hand through his hair.   

“The queen? Well, in case you haven’t noticed, she’s, uh, not that alright in the head. M’sure you’ve done nothin’ wrong, okay?” he attempts to reassure her, albeit to no avail.   

“I just— just feel like...this is all my fault, you know? And now you’re in danger too because of me,” she rambles, not able to let the thought go.    

“You don’t need to worry ’bout me, princess. There’s enough people that want me dead already, what’s one more?” he lets out a dry chuckle that makes her frown.    

“What do you mean?”    

“Nothin’ just, uh, listen…the worst thing that’s gonna happen is that she’s gonna have me killed when I don’t return, ’n once she finds out you’re still alive, she’s gonna send her soldiers to bring her your—”   

“Rafe, that’s not helping. Why would say that?” she interrupts him and apparently, he finds her scowling face to be the most hilarious thing in the world because next thing she knows he’s laughing, sleepy features scrunching up as he shakes his head. 

It’s safe to say she does not understand his humor, whatsoever.    

“All m’sayin’ is that we’re gonna have to find someplace good to hide.”    

“We have to leave the kingdom?” she asks, worried.    

“Yeah, think so,” he says, sounding far too impassive for her liking.    

“But I can’t just leave, this is my home.”   

“I know, but s’gonna be okay,” he murmurs, mouth stretching around a yawn.   

“But what if— what if something happens?” she sounds panicked, all the worst-case scenarios bouncing around her skull because she’s never even been this far from the palace. How on earth is she meant to survive in the real world? 

“I’ll keep you safe, yeah? Now can you let me sleep?” he lets out a drowsy exhale, seemingly fed up with the conversation already.   

“But what if—”   

“Shh, c’mere,” he hushes her before he’s tucking her flush against his chest— a heavy palm resting on her thigh to keep her from moving because he’s exhausted and more than aware that tomorrow is going to be a long day, especially with this overthinking princess who he wishes would just shut up.   

It’s something he’d tell her outright if he wasn’t certain that she’d start crying all over again in response— the rest of the hike here with her sobs and hiccups thrumming in his ears more than enough for one day.   

And the sudden proximity seems to work because instantly, she stops shifting around; nearly stops breathing altogether when she swallows. “What are you…”   

“Just, uh, need you to calm down, yeah?” he pats at her hip before she’s clumsily humming out another apology.  

And despite the slight trace of the muddy water, her hair still smells of forest berries and wildflowers, making exasperation worm its way into his veins. He doesn’t understand why she’s trusting her life in his hands so thoughtlessly; it’s like she has no sense of self-preservation with the way she’s blindly following him anywhere, when not even a day ago he attempted to murder her.   

He wonders if she’s always been like this; naive and dumb, always seeing the good in people, even when there isn’t any. All it took was a few remotely sweet words and she’s already allowing him to hold her this close— a foolish deer resting peacefully next to a starving wolf and expecting not to get hurt.    

Momentarily, he gets the urge to just finish the job right now, wrap his arm around her throat until the flame burns out, leaving her eyes dull, lifeless. After all, it would make his life considerably easier. He can almost feel it— the moment her heart comes to a halt in her ribcage as she turns into nothing more than flesh and bones, freeing him from this burden.  

And at the end of the day, it’s part of his nature to kill for his own benefit, muscles nearly stinging with the self-serving temptation because that’s what he’s always been; selfish.    

“Rafe, that hurts,” her voice is small, nervous, nonetheless forcing him to resurface to the current; his rough fingertips mindlessly sinking into the bare surface of her thigh, harsh enough to leave a bruise. 

Her entire form is tense, breathing shallow and limbs unmoving, resembling a rabbit rigid with fear, only amplifying this ever-growing itch under his skin.  

He clears his throat.  

“Sorry,” a mutter through his teeth before she can finally feel the pressure dissipating— his thumb smoothing over the sore patch while he tries to decide what the fuck he should do with her.    

[archangeldyke-all]

isha being non verbal it's so important to me because i also go non verbal sometimes and i can spent days like that so i got a request about it 🙂‍↕️

so, despite trying to learn sign language, i got some kind of made up sing language that i use to communicate with my sister and my parents, it's not the most pratical but they understand me so it's fine

i was thinking about reader that sometimes goes non verbal, an then her and isha made up a secret sing language that only them can understand and sometimes sevika it's being grumpy or jinx more annoying than usual and they use it to talk shit about them, at first sevika and jinx don't notice it but at some point they start to get at the fact they can't understand those sign and be like "hey whats happening here"

or maybe just something about sev and a non verbal reader, anything it's fine 🤗

this is just so sweet omg okay

men and minors dni

there are a lot of adjustments you have to make in your life when jinx and isha come tumbling into it.

for one thing, any semblance of privacy you and sevika once had is out the window. neither isha or jinx find the need to knock, no matter how much you beg them to.

never in your life did you think you'd be making a category in your monthly budget for toys-- but here you are.

adjusting to jinx's picky eating habits (mostly her refusal to eat anything that isn't spicy enough to kill an infant) has been a challenge, but over time you've managed to find several dishes that get her veggies in her.

but, luckily, you never had to adjust to isha's muteness.

you go mute sometimes. sevika's known this about you since you first started dating, and when she moved you into her home a few years down the road, she started taking sign language classes, just so she could communicate with you on your mute days.

it's the nicest, sweetest thing anyone's ever done for you. and now it's paying off doubly, because you and sevika get to teach your girls the language.

jinx, surprisingly, is the most excited about it. she's always asking you or sevika to teach her how to sign something, and for the longest time you just think it's another thing the girl's freakishly good at.

but then, one night, you walk by the girls' room and catch them whispering under jinx's covers, a flashlight illuminating their silhouettes as jinx gently walks isha through the new signs she learnt from sevika earlier in the evening.

at the time, isha had rolled her eyes and gotten frustrated, her little fingers not able to keep up with sevika's; and she ran away from the dinner table to color in the living room.

and now, here's jinx, taking the time to gently, slowly work her little sister through the motions, encouraging her with soft cheers and claps. isha lets out an excited little giggle, and you hear a loud, wet smooch ring out from under the covers. "you're doin' it kid!"

your heart clenches, and you sprint back to your bedroom to tell sevika about the adorable sight you'd just walked in on.

over time, with you and sevika's teachings and jinx's special encouragement, isha starts to sign more and more.

it's great. you get a better understanding of isha's personality now that she can communicate with you, and you're always shocked by the little girl's humor. she makes you laugh so much you've been going to bed with sore abs almost every day.

best of all though, are the days when both you and isha are mute and signing all day. it usually ends with the two of you coming up with some secret codes-- mostly born out of mistakes, some born out of jokes about your speaking family.

it leads to the two of you having your own little language.

when sevika's acting particularly grumpy, or hungry, or protective-- you or isha will catch each other's eyes and quickly sign a single word. 'bear'

when jinx is locked in on an invention even isha can't understand, answering isha's questions with single word sentences, scratching her head and humming to herself as she scribbles on her notebooks; isha will come find you and sadly sign 'jinx went monkey mode.' you'll just giggle and find something to do with the girl to keep her entertained as jinx works.

sometimes, isha will flash you a special waggle of her fingers-- something only the two of you know. it's her request for attention, a way for her to ask for a hug or some cuddles. it always makes something special burst inside you, and you're quick to wrap the girl up in your arms.

when isha gets tired of signing, her mind tired from communicating all day, you'll check in on her and she'll give you a gentle little flick of her hand-- her way of saying she's done talking for the day. you've started using the little sign on your own, when talking gets too overwhelming, you'll use it to tell your family that you want to sign.

so, some of you and isha's private language leaks out into your whole family's use. but, most of it stays special between the two of you.

...until you get caught.

sevika's practically hanging off of you as you make dinner, nuzzling against your throat and taking deep breaths of your scent; when isha comes running into the kitchen, singing for help to tie her apron.

you chuckle, pulling her up onto the counter in front of you and wrapping the ties of her apron around her waist, tying them into a little bow and giving her a kiss.

what's wrong with big mama? she asks, reaching out to tug a strand of sevika's hair. you chuckle, and sevika grunts, stirring on your shoulder.

bear. you sign back.

isha giggles and sevika grunts against you.

"what'd you just call me?" she asks. you freeze, and isha bursts into nervous laughter.

"nothin'." you say. sevika nips your throat and you squeak. "ah! nothing!" you squeal.

"you called me a bear?" she asks.

isha bursts into breathy giggles, her feet kicking with excitement as sevika slowly pulls away to glare at you.

"no?" you squeak.

sevika grunts, and then she flings you in the air.

isha bursts into squeals and you curse, scrambling to hold onto sevika as she tosses you around.

"i'll show you a bear!" she growls, grinning at the sound of isha's laughs. you can't stop screaming and laughing, and when sevika finally sets you down, she turns to isha with a glower. "you think im a bear?"

isha's cackling and shaking her head no, squirming as sevika reaches forward to start tossing her around.

you watch with glee as you wife throws you screaming, squealing kid in the air, both of them laughing between sevika's attempts at bear noises.

jinx stumbles in with a confused look, until she sees the way isha's laughing. she ducks under your arm, leaning against you.

"what happened here?" she asks. you snort.

"sevika figured out some of our secret language."

jinx chuckles. "how you guys call her a bear?"

"you knew!?"

"you aren't subtle." she says with a giggle as isha starts to karate chop sevika's back and shoulders. "i know about you two callin' me a monkey too." she huffs.

you cackle and kiss her forehead. "that was isha's nickname."

"figures. little shit." jinx says fondly.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Eidetic Memory Be Damned -Spencer Reid

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Pairing - Spencer Reid x FemFBIAgent!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Spencer is tired of only having the memory of you to enjoy during his spicy times , so he just has to intrude into your hotel room after a case is finished…

•Warnings/Content - p in the v unprotected (hey kids- DONT DO IT) ; cursing ; Spence loves to beg to nut in you and does so ; creampie ; some pain play? (just a lil hand on the throat dealio and some hair pulling) ; LOTS of praise on both sides (good boy, pretty girl, etc) ; very mf horny lol ; (basically they do just about everything from first base to last bestie slay)

•Word Count - 3.3k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Iʼm so mf rusty at writing smut so this is probs not the best, I just wanted to write some Spencer spice cause I had a spicy dream about him lmao RIP >_< Also this'll be my first official post of my writing on Tumblr slayyyyy

•Additional Tags - Switch!Spencer , Switch!Reader , Spencer is a needy brat LMAO , Team has ‘no ideaʼ you two are hooking up (Be so mf fr they do) , Good aftercare is so valid , Spencer loves being cuffed and teased muahaha

As much as this last case had taken out of me, I was more than happy to get to spend some time in my hotel room while the jet refueled and everyone got their bearings. Itʼs not home - far from it, Iʼd been missing my own bed for the majority of our time here in whatever state it was now - but at least it was something.

But of course, the reprieve wouldnʼt last long - a sharp knock on my door confirmed that, about 20 minutes after Iʼd laid down to sleep.

“What…ˮ I groan, frustratedly looking over at the clock.

The knock, again, more persistent this time. And I recognize its pattern now, three short tap-taps. Spencer.

My heartbeat, despite my minor annoyance at being woken up, is hammering now. Spencer seems to do that to me, from the moment Iʼd realized I have feelings for him, carrying into whatever it is that we are now. Secret trysts that Iʼm sure are no secret to our team members, especially Garcia, because sheʼd pried it out of me almost immediately and now waits in her dark little room with nothing else but excitement for the latest updates on us, it seems.

“Are you awake?ˮ A gentle but still much-too-loud voice asks.

I tumble out of bed, rushing to the door. I donʼt even have time to make sure I look okay - Iʼm much too worried about anyone else hearing him. The door is unlocked and pulled open in record time, a stunned lanky man quickly and semi-quietly forced inside.

“Spence, someoneʼs gonna hear you if you keep on like that.ˮ I chastise him, shutting and locking the door behind us. No sooner have I done so, than his lithe form overtakes me, nestling into the crook of my neck with a groan that seems both relieved and not relieved at all.

“Donʼt care,ˮ He pushes me back, until my legs meet the mattress and fold. Quickly following on top of me, he sighs, “Been too long. I miss you. You know I have an eidetic memory, yeah? Doesnʼt mean shit when Iʼm up late and even thoughts of you arenʼt enough to keep me satiated.ˮ

“Someoneʼs gonna-ˮ Hear, I want to say. He knows, of course he does. And Iʼm only half-complaining, with his lips at my neck and his leg sneaking up between mine the way he also knows.

“Donʼt care.ˮ He repeats, the low moan at the back of his throat breaking through into the silent room. “I told you I miss you. Should I tell you about what I use my memory for? And just how much that hasnʼt been enough lately? Or should I show you?ˮ

Itʼs clearly a rhetorical question, but still, he seeks the permission I am more than happy to grant.

“Tell me. Uh, show me. I mean-ˮ

“I can do both,ˮ Even in the dark, I know heʼs got that matter of fact smirk on his lips. He reaches down, holding me by the hip with one hand while the other slips into my pajamas, a practiced motion heʼs all too good at by now. “Usually this is what I remember first. The way your skin feels, how nice it is to make you tremble beneath my touch.ˮ

I buck up, and he chuckles.

“All too eager, arenʼt you? Clearly youʼve been thinking about it too, huh, pretty girl?ˮ A pointed question he knows Iʼll struggle to answer, with his hand and his voice torturing me so.

“No eid- identical- uh, no memory recall whatever for me.ˮ

“Still wouldnʼt satiate, I bet.ˮ He remarks, casually rubbing circles and patterns over my panties. This is how he operates, surely and with no warning. A gentle but firm kiss to my jaw, and he continues, “Itʼs like that for me, at least. I know no amount of recalling how you feel under me will be enough to match just how nice it is.ˮ

Heʼs right, and of course he is; I can barely handle the teasing, the tone his voice has taken in this short amount of time. And I currently dont care if weʼre heard, either.

“Spence-ˮ

“What is it, sweetheart? Too much for you? Not enough?ˮ

“Please?ˮ

“Words, honey. Youʼve gotta use your words. Or you can show me, Iʼm okay withthat too.ˮ He guides my hand down to his.

“More.ˮ I plead, working to undress myself before his hands take over.

“You only have to ask.ˮ

True to his word, Spencer pulls the fabric away, no longer allowing it to be a block between us. Itʼs lost somewhere in the sheets as he kisses me, his practiced hands no longer in the mood to tease. He slips a finger in, and when I let out a keening whine, another, his free hand going automatically to my mouth.

“Now as much as I say I donʼt care, youʼve gotta be a little quiet for me,ˮ He goads, knowing this will only make it harder for me to do so. His breath is hot in my ear, his fingers working a motion thatʼs both breaking pent up weeks old frustration, and yet causing more tension in my belly. “Much as I love your voice. Your sounds. The-ˮ

I rut up against him, my lips opening around his thumb. He works it into my mouth, his voice lowering even further.

“Cmon, show me how much you missed me, huh, princess?ˮ

I moan, words lost in my mind as it spins. Every tug of his fingers between my thighs is building a high Iʼm chasing, and when I get to this point, Iʼm not talking - he is. And he knows it, knows the right words to say to build and break me.

“This is what Iʼm after, this is what I canʼt just remember. Because itʼs all too much to remember how good it feels to destroy you.ˮ

Please, please. I canʼt hold off much longer.

“Now are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?ˮ

I nod, lips opening and letting his hand free from my mouth as my breaths grow heavy. “Canʼt - Please, Spence, please-ˮ

He presses me further into the mattress, murmuring sweet and dirty nothings into my ear as the dam breaks and I ride my high. Iʼm far too sensitive following, and when I try to push him away for a moment, allow myself to collect some sort of reprieve before we continue, he chuckles lowly.

“See, I can recall that clear as day. But itʼs so much sweeter to have it happening in front of me, you know?ˮ He nestles in beside me, turning me to face him.

Nigh immediately, Iʼm reaching for his belt buckle. Of course he wouldnʼt have changed into comfortable clothes, not even this late- Iʼm sure this was his plan all along, and he tried to fight it as long as he could.

“Someoneʼs eager.ˮ He quips, the smirk growing.

“Youʼve got me thinking about it,ˮ I sigh, letting him maneuver himself out of the constricting clothing. “Coming over and getting me all hot and bothered. I really ought to…ˮ

“Ought to what?ˮ He goads, pulling me onto him with a low noise as we brush together. “Hmm? Are you gonna say…you ought to punish me?ˮ

I nod, rubbing back against him. He lets out a moan, hands gripping my hips tighter.

“I remember how that feels,ˮ He pulls me closer, voice dropping. “But for your sake, maybe you should refresh me.ˮ

When he reaches for me again, I pull back, pinning his hands down above his head. I know he could get out of it if he really wanted to - Iʼm strong, but not stronger than him - but he most certainly doesnʼt want to get out of it. And Iʼm enjoying it far too much to stop myself now.

“Whatʼre you gonna do, cuff me?ˮ He snaps, the bratty attitude far too practiced and already making me a soaking mess.

“I might.ˮ I reach for my pair, knowing all too well that heʼll absolutely lose it once I let go on him. I can hardly stand the anticipation. “Scared, Reid?ˮ

“Terrified. Please, donʼt. Iʼve been a good boy, I swear.ˮ

I push him back while he pleads, tightening the metal around his wrists. The look on his face, muffled as it is by the darkness of the room, is more than enough to spur me on.

“Not thinking about this at all, huh?ˮ I shed my top, if only for the knowledge that his inability to reach for my breasts drives him utterly insane. “And Iʼm sure you havenʼt spent many late nights with the memory of me riding you, have you? Havenʼt had your hands on that pretty cock of yours, thinking about how it feels when itʼs me, yeah?ˮ

“N-Not at all.ˮ

“Itʼs a shame, then.ˮ I tease, feeling him harden beneath me with every word. “Iʼll have to make you confess, I suppose.ˮ

His eyes follow my every move as I back up, slotting between his legs and bending down to kiss along his hips.

“Youʼll never get it out of me.ˮ He groans.

“Is that a promise or a challenge?ˮ I ask, not breaking eye contact as I place a kiss on his sensitive head.

“Challenge? Would I…challenge you?ˮ He still holds onto a moment of sanity, until I take him in my mouth, and itʼs lost with a sigh of, “Oh, would I.ˮ

I bob my head, my practiced motions coming in handy now. The usually-full-of- remarks Spencer Reid folds under my touch, soft deep moans and babble of confessions and wish I could pull your hair passing his lips while I work him out.

After a few moments of this, I let him free - at least from the torture of my lips.

“Where are you going? Please, I wanna cum for you, Iʼll tell you everything I did while I couldnʼt stand to wait for you.ˮ He keens.

“Oh, Iʼm far from done with you, Spence.ˮ I slowly, agonizingly slowly, climb back on top of him, making sure to back right up against him as he tightens against the cuffs. “Donʼt you worry, Iʼll have every measly confession pouring from you. You know I will.ˮ

“Please, let me out- Gotta touch you, I just gotta-ˮ

“Shh, be good for me, wonʼt you?ˮ I lift myself over his face, pressing my folds to his lips. “Unless you wanna stay in those forever.ˮ

He shakes his head, vibrating a ‘noʼ against me.

“Good. Now youʼre gonna pay your dues and clean up the mess youʼve made.ˮ

Eagerly, he laps at me like heʼs never had it before. His utter submissiveness overwhelms him, letting me ride his face to my hearts content. Words are muffled and entirely lost in it, and I know by now that the sounds Iʼm making alone will be heard, but I donʼt really care. Iʼm too far gone in how good it feels to finally have him making me cum again.

“Can I touch you now?ˮ

I slide back onto him, teasingly letting myself rest with just the edge of him pressing into my folds.

“Can you?ˮ I look pointedly at his wrists.

“I-oh, my god, clearly not, but-ˮ

“How about this?ˮ I amend. “You give me a confession, you get a reward. Sound fair?ˮ

“Yeah, sounds just fine. I couldnʼt get off without coming here, you realize that, donʼt you? Youʼre the only thing that gets me off anymo-Oh-ˮ His confession is cut short as I slide him a bit further in, just enough to spur him further. “I mean, I get off, donʼt get me wrong here. But nothing feels as good as when itʼs with you. Nothing.ˮ

“Keep going, youʼre doing good.ˮ I praise, sinking a bit deeper.

“Goddamn you feel so good.ˮ He moans. “Like, my hands canʼt even come close to this, are you kidding? I can try all I want, and believe me, I have - Oh, my god, please donʼt stop - Iʼve been trying all the time, I admit that, canʼt hardly stand being around you and not being able to just fuck you whenever I want.ˮ

I push down further, the stretch he gives me loosing my own moan. “How much do you wanna fuck me, Spence? Tell me, please.ˮ

“God, all the time. Itʼs all I can think about when I get down to it - baby, can I please touch you now?ˮ

“Punishment is a bitch, isnʼt it, Reid?ˮ I smirk, starting to push him in and out of me, slowly and with a devious grin that falters at just how damn good it is.

“Baby, Iʼm gonna get outta these and fuck you so good-ˮ

“Try it.ˮ I raise an eyebrow, stopping my motions.

“Oh- No, Iʼm sorry, please donʼt stop. Iʼll be good, I promise.ˮ

“Yeah, you will.ˮ I drop as far as I can take him, savoring the stuttered animalistic groan he lets out as I press down onto him, pulling his hair and moving my hips around him. As he is want to do, heʼs thrusting up into me, even if heʼs unable to reach me with his hands held up as they are. “Eager, sweet boy. Iʼm gonna ruin you.ˮ

And ruin him, I do. The tension and heat in my belly rides and breaks several times, with him unable to form real words except for the continuous begging of please donʼt stop repeated on a loop until I feel Iʼm satisfied with his demeanor.

Once Iʼve tortured him enough, I reach for the cuffs, ready to let him off the leash - knowing that once I do, the balance will shift. Truthfully, Iʼm just eager to let him be true to his word and fuck me like heʼs been dying to.

“You donʼt need any more confessions from me, then?ˮ He huffs, sweat slicked across his brow from the effort of holding back - though heʼs not really done so, has he?

“One last one, I suppose.ˮ I pull off of him, and the pout he gives nearly makes me sit right back down on him again.

“Alright, Iʼll be good and honest with you, then.ˮ He continues while I set to unlocking the cuffs, “You know the other day, just after we got the final piece of evidence put together?ˮ

I nod.

ˮI was so psyched, I couldʼve taken you right there. I donʼt care that everyone would have known, would have seen. Itʼs just something you do to me.ˮ He finishes, his tone light. Oh boy, Iʼm about to get railed. “I love you. And now Iʼm gonna fuck you like Iʼve been wanting to for weeks.ˮ

No sooner is he free, tearing off the shirt he was wearing and looming over me with the hungriest of looks at my body before pressing himself into me. No wait, no teasing - heʼs not got the control for it, clearly, and Iʼm not complaining one bit.

“Next time, you get the cuffs, pretty girl.ˮ He promises, his hands all over my body now that he can manage it. Hard, precise thrusts, his voice heavy and fucked-out.

“And Iʼll show you just what Iʼve been wanting to do that Iʼm gonna savor in my mind after.ˮ

My nails are leaving deep trails in his back, surely leading to marks that would raise questions if anyone else saw. Heʼs so far in me, almost bottomed out, and itʼs almost too much and yet not enough all at once. I pull him closer, and his hand tangles in my hair while the other clasps around my throat.

“Youʼre all mine.ˮ Spencer growls - truly, thereʼs not other word for it, the purely animal drive taking him to a world where itʼs just us, just this. And Iʼm there too, crying out with the ecstasy his body causes my own.

“All yours.ˮ

“Thatʼs right, pretty girl. Say it for me, I wanna hear you say it.ˮ

“Iʼm all yours, Spence- oh, my god-ˮ

“Good, thatʼs good. My pretty girl. Youʼre so tight, you feel so good wrapped around me, donʼt you? God, what a sight.ˮ Here he is, in his rambles now, and I can hardly contain how close I am. “Wanna tell everyone this is mine. Iʼm the only one that gets to have you, gets to fuck you like this. See you break for me. Only me.ˮ

“Only you, Spence, only you-ˮ

“Cʼmon, I know youʼre close, I can feel it. You get so much tighter, god, if itʼs even possible-ˮ

“Spencer-ˮ

“Thatʼs my girl, cum for me.ˮ

“Donʼt stop-ˮ I can feel the cord in me ready to snap, chasing my most intense orgasm of the night with his words and the feeling of him slamming so deep inside me. “More, Spence, you can give me more-ˮ

“Sweet girl, of course, I know you can handle it.ˮ He pushes himself fully in, my breath catching at the slight pain, yet itʼs still so good, I canʼt stop it, I donʼt want to. “Want me to fuck you so good with all of me, donʼt you?ˮ

I nod against his grasp, and he loosens it a bit, kissing me fervently.

“Please, please cum for me, I wanna feel you all over me, beautiful.ˮ He reaches down, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit. Itʼs the last thing I need to send me over that edge, and I cry out, his name slipping past my lips unwarranted. “Oh, baby, love how you say my name. Like itʼs a prayer, like Iʼm a god.ˮ

“Donʼt stop, Spence-ˮ

“Iʼm close, baby- Oh, I wanna cum in you-ˮ

Another orgasm follows near immediately after this one, and Iʼm grasping at him while heʼs chasing his own, his hands fumbling and his thrusts getting sloppy. He grips the sheets, his breaths stunted.

“Cum in me, please-ˮ

“Iʼm gonna, god, Iʼm so fuckinʼ close-ˮ He tightens around me, muscles shaking as he lets loose, and now itʼs his turn to moan my name a lot louder than he should while he cums. Heʼs so pretty when he does, too - the crease that works between his brows, the round pucker to his lips. Partly through, he kisses me, hard. And when heʼs done, his grip loosens, falling slack on top of me with a contented sigh.

A few moments pass where he just holds me, peppering soft kisses across my face and telling me you did such a good job, baby. Then, he pops up with a smile and comes back with water and a towel, cleaning up after himself.

“Satisfied?ˮ I chuckle, slowly pulling my clothes back on.

“Almost.ˮ He dips his head down, capturing a nipple in his mouth for a few moments. I groan, overstimulated, but still too happy to appease him. “Now, Iʼm satisfied. Iʼm staying in here, okay? Donʼt care if someone sees at this point.ˮ

“Spence?ˮ

“Mmhm?ˮ

“I love you, too.ˮ

[artofchoisan]

A BODYGUARD'S PUNISHMENT

Cold!Bodyguard!Seonghwa x Heartbroken!Brat!University!Reader

The Plot: Being heartbroken was a norm for your life especially with your own parents not caring about you and just giving you money to keep you quiet. No matter how much chaos you caused or the one time you almost got yourself killed to which they didn't want their status to be ruined they just assigned you a bodyguard with whom you’ve had a past that only you and him knew of.

TW: Rough Sex.

Words: 2.3k

► ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Causing chaos all around you, drinking until only alcohol flew into your veins, wrecking havoc by organizing parties and sleeping around and not to forget stealing cars and smoking weed, you’ve done everything, yet none seem to care.

Your own parent couldn't give one single fuck about you, never a caring words nor a caring touch, they only threw money at you and wave their hands off and just assigning you a bodyguard so as you don't get yourself killed which they only did mainly for their own name to not get soiled.

Yet, you gave your own bodyguard so many shit to deal with, the countless time you’ve been a brat to him by running off away from him, getting on his nerves and always getting wine onto his suit as you grinned, you didn't hate Park Seonghwa, he was just doing his job but anything associated with your parents you hated, and this man was just another toy in their hands.

So there you were, into another one of your escape, lying into a bathroom floor with a bottle of vodka into your hands as you stared up, what the fuck was your own life? You couldn't even escape this life and just hope that once uni was done you could get out of this fucked up home and lead a life of your own.

“Here you are.” An exasperated sigh reached your ears, as you only look up to find your bodyguard rushing to your side and forcing you up, “Could you stop running out of my sight at least once.”

“No! Fuck off!” Forcingly removing your hand off his hold as you almost tumble down before he catches you again, “Give me a break will you.”

“It’s an order, we’re going.” His voice is tight and cold, not wanting to put up with any of your bullshit, you’ve been getting on his nerves for nearly a year, it’s a miracle he held up for so long, “It’s my job.”

As you struggled against Seonghwa you knew it was of no use, as he was two heads taller than you and much stronger, “I’m not going anywhere.” With that he still managed to drag you outside the bathroom, out of the club and managed to open the door of the car and threw you inside, “Behave now.” Voice lathered in a warning as he glared at you before getting into the driver’s seat and putting on the child’s lock, just to be sure.

“What were you even thinking?” Starting the engine as he drive towards your apartment, your only answer to him was a roll of your eyes, "This disappearing act is getting really damn old," Seonghwa lead on, sharp and deliberate, digging the hurt in your chest deeper, "You need to learn how to grow up before—"

“Shut the fuck up Seonghwa.” Your own voice is colder than ever before.

Then a sob broke through your own voice, your hands over your face as the tears threatened to fall and just like that more anger swirl inside of you, “I know, I’m a fucking mess and fucked up all I do.” Saying more through gritted teeth, “I’m an embarrassment to my own parents and just someone who can't do anything right, just a little pompous bitch who uses her parents money without thinking. I know what everyone thinks and knows what you also think.”

Letting your head lean against the car window, “Just drive me home Park.”

This rendered Seonghw quiet, his eyes glancing at your tired face from time to time, jaw unclenched as for a few seconds he almost felt pity for you, he wasn't blind to the actions or lack of actions of your parents to you.

Once his car reached your apartment’s parking lot, he unlocked your doors and with that you made a dash for the elevators, not wanting to see more of him. Luckily as he locked the car, you managed to catch the elevator and in mere seconds you were gone, leaning against the elevators, you let out a sigh.

Once it reached your floor, you lazily walked towards your door, quickly inserting your keycode and before you could get inside your arms were gripped in an almost deadly one and was thrown inside as you groan, the door slammed shut behind him, “Can you stop acting like a fucking kid? Whining and crying like one.”

Too tired, you only turned your back to him, what have gotten into Seonghwa? Had he finally snapped. And if he did, despite your own tiredness you wanted to test just how riled up you can rile him up.

“I’ll continue to act like a kid as you say.” Saying those words out of your own tongue, as you turned to him, a few meters away as you unzipped your dress right in front of him and despite the few seconds of shock from Seonghwa’s eyes, he said nothing trying to not wanting to let you win.

Your dress dropped down to the floor revealing your black lingerie that hugged your breast well right in front of him, a generous portion of skin all in full view in front of him as you turned before bending down to get your dress.

That’s when you felt it, a deep growl and a strong pair of arms around your waist, “You’re a fucking brat.” A venomous tone into your ear, “You keep getting on my nerves, playing with me.” His hand around your neck, tilting your head up as you felt his breath onto your skin.

“But you didn't leave, you like it just as much but you would never admit that, right Mr Park?” Almost laughing at your own words, “Always handling me and touching me.”

You’ve crossed way too much line in just a few days.

Seonghwa seemed to be releasing all of his pent up anger onto you, feeling his tongue, teeth and lips against your neck, biting and sucking leaving your naked canvas of your neck in a painting of red and purple marks, his tongue licking long stride along your neck, “You need to be taught a lesson brat.”

His fingers traced along your body, his other hand still around your neck as his lips and teeth never leaving the bruising canvas he was creating on your skin, “Going out to get fucked? Huh? Come on princess, you know the dangers of that.” He then pulled hard onto your panties, tearing it up before it slapped against your skin.

The cold air hitting your cunt as you gasped out, “Please Hwa, I want you.” Your hands working behind you as you quickly took off his belt and palm onto his crotch, “Please, please. I’ll be good to you.” This wasn't an unfamiliar situation, fucking with your bodyguard wasn't a new thing.

Seonghwa turned you around, gripping on your shoulders he pushed you on your bed, “Just look at you princess.” His grin turned sinister, “Thinking another man can even fuck you as good as I can. Do you beg for their cock as you do for mine? Do you whine and plead, begging for it as if your life depends on it?”

His anger did all the talking as he looked livid, finally letting his emotions take a hold of him after months of restraining himself, wanting to do his job, only wanting to protect you and burying his own feelings down but jealousy always rear its horns.

“Please Seonghwa, I want you.” Nor you, not being able to deny yourself of him, your feeling blossomed into something more for him, for once, one person truly and sincerely cared, yet his own principles always comes in the way, “Fuck me, I want you to wreck me.”

With that he delved his fingers into you, forcing a gasp, grabbing his arms, digging your nails in as he wrapped one arm around your waist and the other brushed against your clit. "You're soaked, Princess. Only I can make you feel like this, right?" He asked growling slightly as he bit at your ear "Something turning you on?" He asked and you whimpered in response, whining out.

"Hwa, fuck... slow down" You begged as he thrust his fingers in and out, his palm brushing against your clit, his bracelets rubbing against your lower stomach, forcing whines and whimpers from your lips.

"When you mean it, I'll slow down" He grunted out, pressing kisses along the side of your face as you gasped looking down watching his fingers plunge in and out of you, his cock pressing hard against your ass. "Do you want to cum on my fingers, Princess?" He asked softly and you gasped arching your back slightly as he pressed on your lower stomach as his fingers reached deeper inside of you.

"Seonghwa" You cried out, pushing against his arms as your release slammed through you, spasming around his fingers and soft whines leaving your lips as he continued to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. He smirked against your neck and pulled his fingers out.

Without warning he turned you around and forced his cock deep inside you as you cried out in pleasure, “Oh fuck! Yes! More.” His animalistic thrust meets you with so much pleasure, his cock thrusting in and out of you as his mouth comes closer to bite onto your shoulder as his deep grunt drives you even more insane.

Seonghwa was fucking you with no mercy, “Look at you being so desperate for my cock and now taking me in so well, so good, such a good little brat for me.” Chanting his name like a mantra as feeling him so good and so big inside of you and being fucked so dumb made you to lose it as you press yourself more against him chasing your own high, “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“I could just leave you here,” Seonghwa warned yet his hips continue to fuck you even harder than before, his hold on your hips tighter than before, “I could just cum all over your back and leave you just like that, still all wet and horny, but we wouldn't want that, right princess.”

You were so fucked out, the tears in your eyes began dripping down your cheeks, “No please, Hwa. I need you, please don't leave me.”

Seonghwa’s demonic grin crossed his lips, “That’s my good girl, see you can be obedient when you want to.” Still thrusting into you, with no rest “I'm the only one who can make you feel this way. i’m the only person who can fuck you like this. you’re mine. say it, brat.”

“I’m all yours Seonghwa, only yours.”

With that you felt the knot onto your stomach tightened before the both of you came to your orgasm as you cried out in bliss, “Fuck.” Your body landed bonelessly onto the bed as you both were panting out, Seonghwa had removed himself from you as strings of white cum landed onto your back, “That’s my good girl.”

Once both of you had calmed down, Seonghwa helped you to lay more on the bed, his caring nature was what caused you to fall harder then he adjusted your hair and with a tender smile, Seonghwa leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“Love you..” mumbling out those words out of all the emotions into you.

The sweet atmosphere turned cold, Seonghwa froze and you immediately regret it. With a cold expression, he leaned back and stood up, adjusting himself in a robotic manner and his cold expression lying back into him.

“You can't keep doing that Seonghwa, you told it to me yourself before, you can't keep coming back fucking me out of jealousy, touching me and caring for me like that and then acting like that when I say the words you’re too scared to say.”

The secret had been out of the box, a few months ago when alcohol got the best of your system as you drowned into sin, you got quite intimate with your bodyguard who despite your wandering hands all over his body and your pleading eyes and whines, you’ve shared a night you’d never forget.

As the next morning had reached you, your secret was already out of bed and dressed sitting in the living room with eyes darting forward, thinking of a mistake he’d made but as the days went by, the man broke the first rule of being a bodyguard and it almost cost you your life one day, as he got distracted and it almost cost you your life.

After that encounter with death, you’ve found some warmth into the arms of your bodyguard whom this time had the both of you sober and this time he allowed temptation to take hold of his soul, gripping onto the chains of his own restraint, he ripped it out and took your mouth in his as you allowed sin and lust to consumed the both of you in a horrid night of sex.

“You know I can't, my job is to protect you. I can't fail, I can't let you get almost killed.”

Every time, after he allowed temptation to get the best of him, he would grow cold and distant and would only worry about your safety while his icy demeanor brought you some hurt that only caused for you to cry as you’d allow the pain to make you cry as you’ve had confessed to him to which he could only shake his head not wanting to break any more of his own rules.

“Seonghwa.” You sigh, face pinched into a hurt expression, “Listen to me, I love you, I’m not scared to admit that, you’re not careless, you protect me so please, let’s give this a chance, until I finish university, please.”

For a while, he was quiet and then he walked to you and dragged you into his arms, “I’ll trust you. I’ll protect you. For once I’ll be selfish, I won’t let you go so please bear with me for a while.” Then a smile appeared on his lips, “I love you too my little brat, I don't think I can live without you.”

“Neither can I, Mr Bodyguard.”

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[00-jammy-00]

Hi! 🌙 anon here!! Don't worry it's totally okay I make mistakes like that all the time too :D

I don't remember what I said exactly but I remember I said something like a Yandere kidnaps a transmasc Y/n and teases his clit and gets him cock drunk. With like an aphrodisiac and constantly being needy for the Yandere type thing? Perhaps overstim and multiple orgasms? I'm sorry I forget (●//▽//●)

Also side note, I typed out this ask and accidentally deleted it instead of sending it too--so clearly this is an easy mistake to make!

Alrighty, love your blog and the masterpieces you write! And I know I didn't say this last time but your pfp is so cute I love it

Yan!Kidnapper [Cock-drunk Reader Scenario]

Yan!Kidnapper x GN! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, THIS IS SMUT, He’s your kidnapper so mentioned kidnapping, mean yan, spanking (once), slight choking (once), he loves your nipples, psycho yan, he’s just a jerk

A/N - thank you so much for resubmitting your ask 🌙 anon <3 As you said in your second ask, I don’t write for anything other than GN reader so I’ve just adjusted your ask to that xo. This Yan is actually a little sneak peak of a new oc I’ll be adding soon. This is also my first time writing full smut so sorry if it’s not the best 🙏

———————————————————————————————————

“For fucks sake [Reader], you got to keep still baby.” Jasper grunted, rubbing his tip against your hole before pulling it away once more. His grin only grew when he heard a whine slip from your lips. “Such a little slut for me, yeah? Your hole is trying to suck me in.” He chuckled, leaning his head lower to tug on one of your nipples with his teeth.

Your lovely kidnapper of a few months had decided it was a good idea to buy that viral sex chocolate or whatever the fuck he had seen on TikTok. It obviously did the trick because you were currently panting and whining just from the feel of his cock near you. “Christ babe, if you keep moving I’m going to tie you up.” He hissed, bringing a hand down on your ass in hopes it’ll stop you from fucking moving.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to hold himself back from just pounding you. Last time he did that, you bitched about it for so long. He blew some cold air on your nipple and laughed mockingly when you squirmed. “Do you want my cock? You want me to fuck you? Thought you said I was insane and shit?” He grinned, giving a rough tug to your already puffy nipples. “If you say please, I’ll give you what you want.”

He rubbed his cock head up and down your entrance at a teasingly slow pace. Up, down, up, down, up, down. You couldn’t take it anymore! When he finally heard that magic word tumble out of your mouth he eagerly slammed into you in one go, relishing in the sound you made. He grabbed onto your hips with a bruising grip and started to thrust, making sure to hit that special spot that made you scream.

“Fuck! You’re so tight! Such a pretty whore for me.” Jasper groaned, lifting your legs over his head. He pressed a kiss to your ankle before nipping at it with a smirk. “Might cum just from looking at your face. You’re making such cute faces at me babe.” He slid his hand up and gripped your throat, giving it a small squeeze before giving your nipple a sloppy kiss. “Keep squeezing me [Reader]. Fuck yeah, that’s it!” He grunted though his voice became slightly whiny as he picked up his pace.

“Gonna cum in your pretty hole, yeah? You like that?” He wiped some saliva from your chin before sticking two of his fingers in your mouth. He began to push them in and out at the same pace of his thrusts, eyes lighting up when your eyes rolled back into your head. “Look at you, going all dumb on my cock.” He cooed mockingly, moving his hands back down to your hips. “I’m about to cum so hold still, okay?” He murmured, pressing a loving kiss to your temple before thrusting quicker.

With a final moan, he came inside you. He was panting, eyes gone hazy before he snapped out of it and kissed your forehead. “You were so good for me, gonna clean you up now, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out and moving to the bathroom. While he ran a bath, he couldn’t stop the giddy smile from spreading across his face. Jasper finally fucking had you, you were his, fully. He wasn’t going to let you go, never, especially after you enjoyed having sex with him so much!

———————————————————————————————————

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[rambling-at-midnight]

omg a part 2????

i loved it so much!!!

Ahh I'm so glad you liked it!!! It's my first Jason x reader fic :) Here's a part 2!

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Now it’s time for a meet-ugly-ish with some dude named Jason. Also, you see the Red Hood again.

Word count: 6.3k (holy shit)

You’re not crazy, right? It’s weird that the library is completely empty because it closes in two hours and the weather is actually nice outside for once, and some random dude wanders in and sets up two seats down from you. He’s not even here to study; he pulled out a sci-fi novel as soon as he sat down.

Who comes to a GCU campus library to read recreationally? The seats are uncomfortable and plastic. And the sun is shining. Everyone else is outside soaking up the Vitamin D.

Honestly, you’re mostly surprised the chair he’s on didn’t snap as soon as he sat. The dude is huge. Football player huge. Shouldn’t he be at practice, instead of forcing the chair to make the most irritating squeaking noises known to man every time he moves an inch?

You grit your teeth and put on your headphones, but you can still hear the poor chair’s dying lamentations, so you turn on an instrumental playlist that hopefully won’t distract you too much from studying.

You let yourself stew over the annoyance until your stomach growls so loud you hear it over the soft music. He has the good grace not to look at you, but you definitely see him pause.

Okay, you’ll call it even. This is what you get for running to the library right after six hours of classes. You need to cement the knowledge in your mind while it’s still fresh, and if that means you have to forego lunch…

He’s still there two hours later when the closing time alarm goes off. It’s a shrill old-school bell, the kind no one can ignore, and he jumps like he’s never heard it in his life. The poor chair finally gives up. He tumbles to the ground.

You look over in case he needs any help, but he’s scrambling for the book, face bright red.

If he is a football player, you wouldn’t be surprised that he’s never heard the bell before. That sort rarely stays this late at the library—if they enter at all.

He rushes out. You pack up a little more methodically. All that’s left for you to look forward to tonight is trying to study in your apartment, but you never have much luck.

He’s outside the library on his phone when you walk out. Maybe waiting for a ride? You’re a little on edge from the events of two days ago, so you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you walk away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

At least the library closes earlier on Wednesdays, 6 pm instead of 9:30. You don’t know why. It’s still a weekday. But it forces you out while the sun’s still shining, which is probably a good thing.

Within two minutes of the twenty-minute walk home, your hip hurts. By the ten-minute mark, you’re trying not to limp.

Despite your better judgment, you keep your gaze turned to the rooftops, even though you know the vigilantes are nocturnal. It’s stupid to want to see a flash of red helmet, anyway. The Red Hood probably saves hundreds of people every week; there’s no way he would remember you.

Of course, when you finally get back, there are the stairs to contend with.

Your cat, that ungrateful little beast, beeps at you furiously for being gone so long. Never mind that your roommate works nights, so at most the cat’s been alone for an hour. He makes a break for the hallway, and you box the doorway with your legs and slam the door closed against your hip as you slip through.

Your injury explodes with pain, but at least the cat doesn’t get out. Ungrateful little beast. As if he isn’t fed and loved enough.

You finish slipping through the doorway and just stand for a moment listening to the blood rushing through your ears. Damn, but that hurt.

In the bathroom mirror, you hike up the hem of your shirt and check the state of your injury.

All in all, it could have been much worse. The bullet scooped out a fair chunk of skin, but it was just a surface wound. There’s no fresh blood on the gauze, and when you change the wrappings, the skin is pink and raw but starting to scab. It scooped out a chunk and left a trail of bruising, but you got off fairly lightly, all things considered.

The GCPD released the robber’s mugshot yesterday morning. In the picture, the man’s eyes were so swollen from your pepper spray he could hardly open them.

You preferred the bullet, honestly.

You try in vain to study a bit more, but even after you take more painkillers, you’re not in the mood. You feed your cat, then curl up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of the show you’re currently in the middle of.

That was the first time you see the huge guy, but it’s certainly not the last.

You wouldn’t notice him so much if he wasn’t the size of a damn refrigerator. He’s gotta be a linebacker for the Knights, but he’s not on their roster. You looked it up after the third time he wandered into the library just a couple minutes after you. It’s probably not updated yet, but you see him so often, you’d like to know his name.

Also, he’d bleached a patch of hair right at the front of his head—was that a trend now, or something?—so it wasn’t hard to spot him.

On Saturday, your feelings shift from mild annoyance and curiosity to a sinking sort of dread when you notice him at the coffeeshop you always visit on the weekends. The employees know you by name and use it to call out your order, so now he knows it, as long as he’s paying attention.

You think he might be.

You don’t want to be that person. Not everything in the world revolves around you, obviously. But you might still be shaken from what happened on Monday, because the thought wiggles in the back of your brain: what if you have a stalker?

You try to tell yourself that it’s just paranoia. GCU isn’t that big a campus, after all, and there are only so many places in the city that are: A. close to campus, B. reasonably priced, and C. comfortable to work in. You’ve run into classmates here before, and you don’t have a monopoly on the library or this coffeeshop. Just because he shows up at the same time you do doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might be establishing a schedule that just so happens to line up with yours.

But, you have to admit, it is easier for stalkers to stalk people when they know their regular schedule.

You keep a watchful eye out and are pretty good about keeping off the streets after dark, but a week and a half later finds you stranded an hour’s walk from your apartment. The buses worked for two days, then shut down again, and you foolishly believed that following the detour that said would get you home would actually get you home. You don’t want to call an Uber because traffic would make the ride longer than the walk and bankrupt you in the process. Same reason you can’t call anyone to pick you up unless you waited the two hours until rush hour dies down.

Walking is, unfortunately, the best option.

So you clutch your trusty pepper spray and prepare yourself for a long night of looking over your shoulder and ignoring the pain in your side. The wound has mostly closed, although the bruising has gotten worse.

Three minutes later, you hear the roar of a motorcycle followed by angry car honks. You barely pay it any mind until the motorcycle pulls up next to you and doesn't pass.

You keep walking, avoiding eye contact. Maybe ignoring them will dissuade the rider from catcalling you.

It doesn't work. "Hey," the rider says, and it's only because the voice is mechanically distorted, recognizable only because of how many videos of him that you won't admit to looking up the last week, that you look at him. "What are you doing?" asks the Red Hood.

"What are you doing?" you counter. He's blocking the flow of traffic talking to you.

The Red Hood looks over his shoulder, flips off the person honking behind him, and steers his motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He drives fast, and you flinch in case he tries to run you over, but he screeches to a halt at the last second.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," he says casually, like you two meet up often.

"I've been staying out of trouble," you say.

"Not tonight?"

"No. That wasn't my fault, though. I took the Southwest bus because it was supposed to connect with the L line, but all the signs they posted were a lie, apparently, because—" You cut yourself off. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't care. Point is, I'm walking home. It's not too far."

"It's about an hour," he points out. "How's your bullet wound? Will it object to that walk?"

"I'll be fine."

He pats the back of his motorcycle seat. "Hop on. I'll drive you."

You take a couple hasty steps back. It may not be a white van, but you know better than to follow candy into someone's vehicle. "Oh, no, thanks. Traffic's pretty bad right now."

You get the sense he's smiling when he says, "I bet I can get you back faster than walking." If only he wasn't wearing the stupid shiny helmet, you would be able to read his expressions better.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm sure you have better things to do than drive me home."

"Helping people is literally my job," is his response. "I have to make sure you get home safely. So either you get on the back of my bike, or I follow you the whole walk back to your apartment."

You know a losing battle when you see it. As a general rule of thumb, it's usually smart not to argue with the dude carrying at least two guns. "Don't kidnap me," you order before slinging your leg over the seat.

He chuckles. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, and it makes him sound so much younger. "You can't ride like that."

"Like what?"

He cranes his neck to look back at you. There's at least six inches between both your bodies. You clutch the sides of the seat with both your hands, hoping he doesn't take off with such a lurch that you topple off the back. "I drive fast. You'll have to hold on."

"I am holding on."

"To me."

You've only met the man twice. You're pretty sure clinging to someone's back is at least a third-meeting type of touch, but he reaches back. The Red Hood snakes a hand nearly twice the size of yours into the crook of your knee, then yanks you to him. You shoot forward with a strangled yelp and catch yourself on his back.

You've never before understood the phrase 'wall of muscle,' but you get it now.

He is huge. And strong. You gingerly put your hands on his shoulders. That's not an inappropriate touch, you think.

He has to live at the gym, right?

"You're still not holding on," he chides. "I don't have a helmet for you, so you really shouldn't fall off."

You swallow and move your hands, but he's too thick for you to link your hands around his front. So you fist both of them into his jacket. It presses your bodies tight against each other from shoulder to thighs. Through the layers his body radiates heat, but you shiver.

"Going," is all the warning you get.

Then you're gone; the bike shudders beneath you, then takes off like a jet.

You can't catch your breath. This must be what riding a dragon feels like, is your first nonsensical thought, a side effect of your roommate's obsession with Game of Thrones.

The bike roars beneath you, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of wind and the pound of blood in your ears. You can't see much with the wind drying out your eyes, so you press your head against the Red Hood's back and squint to one side. Cars and street lamps blur together into a stream of mismatched lights and colors.

The Red Hood drives fast. He weaves between lanes, runs through red lights, cuts onto the sidewalk. A couple bikers shake their fists at him when he passes them in the bike lane. A lot of cars honk at the two of you.

Judging by the way his shoulders shake with laughter, he likes pissing them off. You have to admit, the feeling is a little intoxicating.

You can't hear the sound, but your front is plastered to his back. Even with the layers of his suit and leather jacket, you can feel the vibrations of sound deep within his chest. He has a fairly deep voice, after all, unless the helmet changes that.

No less than ten minutes later, he parks abruptly. You lift your head, blinking moisture back into your eyes, and stare dumbly at your apartment building.

He'd actually brought you back.

Maybe he really was reformed.

You stumble off the bike onto unsteady legs. The Red Hood kicks his stand into place and rests against the bike, leaning with elbows on his handlebars. Like he expects a Midwest goodbye. And you find yourself dawdling.

Maybe you want one, too.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally say awkwardly.

"Anytime," he says, and you laugh, thinking it's a joke, but he doesn't. After a brief awkward pause, the Red Hood tries, "So how have you been?" as if you're old pals meeting up for brunch, and the question is so ridiculous coming from a sort-of-reformed crime lord slash serial killer that you respond without thinking.

"Pretty good, except I think I may have a stalker."

His helmet doesn't do a great job translating whatever sound he makes in response to that. It comes out as a crackle. "What?"

"I've noticed this dude recently showing up wherever I go," you say. "But I think it's just a coincidence. Sorry. That was a bad joke." It wasn't, but you don't want to accuse someone without proof of stalking you. If he's not, you'll seem self-obsessed. If he is, then he knows that you know, and it's not like the GCPD will do anything. One of your friends from your hometown had a stalker for literal years, and the police never did anything, even after he sent her death threats. They said there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest then, so someone showing up at the same places you are definitely isn't enough proof now.

The Red Hood tilts his head. "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"You don't need to beat him up or anything on my behalf," you say. "I mean, you've seen me with a bottle of pepper spray. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, like he finds something about the situation funny. "And I'm pretty sure that you know that I'm going to check this out anyway."

"No," you say, surprising yourself with your firmness. You can't rely on vigilantes to solve all your problems for you. "Seriously, it's okay. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it," he calls as you walk away.

And he's right. Two days later finds you at the gas station at ten-thirty at night. You don't want to see him, per se. You're definitely not looking over your shoulder at the slightest sound. You definitely didn't check the parking lot for a notorious red motorcycle on your way in, and you certainly aren't taking peeks out the window every time headlights pass by on the street.

You're just... curious.

Maybe.

But you have absolutely no warning, not even a suspicion that someone is behind you, when you reach for a box of Cheez-Its. Someone else's hand gets there first and you nearly jump out of your socks.

"Hey," the Red Hood wheezes. He's clutching his side like he has a cramp. "Question: if I buy these for you, will you patch me up?"

"What?"

"I may have been cut," he admits. Judging by the angle of his hunch, it's a little more serious than just a 'cut'. "So: do we have a deal?"

The thought occurs to you, as you help him up five flights of stairs to your apartment, that you're escorting a strange man into your place of residence. You haven't even given your roommate a heads-up, though you're pretty sure tomorrow's his night off.

Sure enough, the only person there to greet you when you walk in is your cat. As per usual, he tries to escape. The Red Hood gently but firmly ushers him inside with his foot with such ease he must have one of his own. "It's cute," he says, still clutching his side.

"Thanks," you say. "He always tries to get out, but if he actually escapes then he just freezes in the hallway until I bring him back inside." Then you realize that you're discussing your cat, of all things, with the Red Hood. You clear your throat and say, "Let me take a look at you."

The crime lord and cat trail after you into the bathroom. It gets a little cramped because the Red Hood's about as small as a fridge is small, but you two figure out a passable system: he's too tall, even while sitting down, and you don't want to bend in half while you stitch him. So you sit on the toilet, he stands in front of you, and your cat jumps on top of his leather jacket on the counter to observe and judge. Luckily, the suture kit is still in the bathroom from when you thought you would have to stitch yourself up, so it's not long before you're instructing him to lift up the hem of his shirt so you can see the damage.

You hiss between your teeth at the sight. Someone grazed his side with a knife, by the looks of it, but the wound is deep. It might go all the way to his subcutaneous tissue.

After you clean it off, you're sure that it does. "You call this a cut?"

"I've had worse," he says gruffly.

"And you're still alive?" You squint at him.

He huffs like that's funny.

"They basically cut you in two! I don't know if I can fix this. I've never stitched someone up before!"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head. "You stitched yourself up, remember? You told me you would."

Shit. Of all the ways to stick your foot in your mouth—

"It wasn't that bad," you say weakly.

“It looked pretty bad.”

“It just looked bad because I was wearing a light colored shirt. Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Red Hood scratches under your cat’s chin. “About wearing light colored clothing, or about getting shot?”

You’re trying to thread the suture needle, but the stupid thread won’t cooperate. “Hmm?”

“Which lesson did you learn?”

“The former, mostly. Believe it or not, ‘try not to get shot’ is something most people, including me, know intuitively.”

"Let me see."

"Yeah, right," you say, "my apartment's basically a strip club, isn't it? First your shirt's coming up, then mine. Absolutely—" You slap his hand away— "Not. I'm fine. Now hold still while I stab you."

The process goes by quickly. He stands like a statue the whole time, like he's used to the pain of getting stitches. Considering his profession, he probably is.

Actually, you can see a couple healed-over scars on his torso just from the small bit of skin he's revealed by pulling up his shirt. And, you're pretty sure, a perfectly defined six-pack, but that's none of your business.

"I don't have the fancy dissolving sutures, unfortunately," you say while you tie off the thread. "These should come out in about a week."

"Yeah, I know," he grunts, letting his shirt fall back down. And you're not disappointed. At all. "Same time next week, then?"

"What?"

"To get them out."

"Uh." Your brain stalls out. You'd been operating under the assumption that this was just another freak coincidental run-in.

Is it just you, or is the Red Hood looking to make a friend out of you? Or maybe just a free pseudo-surgeon?

"Sure," you say. It's not like you can stop him, really.

"Thanks," he says, stroking your cat one more time. Then he nudges the pest off his jacket and shrugs it on, even though there's not really a need for it. The weather's been pretty mild the last week.

You walk him out the door. He pauses in the hallway, turns, and says, "By the way, what's your name?"

You tilt your head and tell it to him.

"Nice to meet you," he says. Then he walks away.

You watch him walk down the hallway until your cat escapes, and then you have to chase him. You're pretty sure the Red Hood sees it, because low-pitched laughter hits your ears as you gather the little bastard up, but when you look, the vigilante's gone.

"God, I hope he's up to date on his tetanus shot."

You find yourself at the coffee shop the next morning, determined not to let a buff bookworm change your routine. You're the first customer, and they have your order ready by the time you finish setting up your stuff on a small table in the corner of the shop, far from where the line will build up when more people trickle in.

Like clockwork, the bookworm wanders in just a couple minutes after you do, orders two coffees, and settles down across the room with his front to you.

Every time you glance up, he's utterly focused on his book. He's probably not watching you. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the coffees untouched, he stands up. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks one up, approaches the counter, and...

Walks right past it.

Walks in your direction.

You stare blatantly, and he holds your gaze with a set jaw and something a little challenging in his gaze.

He's walking to you.

The coffee cup slams on the table, splashing a little over the edge, and you jump to move your laptop away from the liquid.

"Shit, sorry," the bookworm says. He runs away.

You stare until you realize he's grabbing napkins and hurrying back. At least ten, even though the spill's pretty small, and he piles them all onto the table.

His face gets redder the longer you watch without saying anything.

Once he's absolutely sure your laptop is safe from the couple drops he spilled, he balls them all into one large fist and rushes out, "I'm sorry—I was supposed to meet my brother here, but he canceled, and your drink cup's empty, so I was just wondering if you wanted this one? It's a little warm, but..."

"But free is good," you say, deciding to put him out his misery. And he certainly looks miserable rambling in front of you. Like he's mortified for some reason. "Um, thanks. What..."

"Just an iced coffee. Probably watered down."

You take a sip, just to be polite. It is watered down, but he didn't add any milk to it, so that's probably a good thing. "Thanks..." You tilt the cup to look at the name written on the side. "Jason?"

"Yep." He nods. He's still standing in front of you, like he wants to be invited to sit, but you have a lot of work to do, and he's a complete stranger, and all his stuff is still on his table across the room.

Something clatters behind the counter. You both turn in time to see the two baristas duck out of sight, whispering furiously. Probably about the spectacle you two are making.

"You go to GCU's campus library a lot, right?" Jason asks suddenly.

"Yeah, I do. So do you." You don't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he says. "It's peaceful to read in there. Quieter than my apartment."

"Okay," you say slowly. You're really not interested in this conversation, but you don't want to be rude.

He must understand you, though, because he rubs the back of his head and steps backwards, mumbling something about getting back to his book.

Jason's brother never does end up meeting him. You tell yourself that's why you keep glancing at him. Once or twice, you two peek at each other at the same time, and you always look away first, face hot like he's caught you doing something wrong.

The next time you go to the library, it's packed. The weather has turned, so students have nothing better to do than prepare for their finals. You head to the quiet floor, slowly losing hope that you'll find a seat.

A head snaps up the moment you walk in, dark-haired with a striking streak of white at his forehead. Jason.

Something like relief passes over his face, and he waves you over.

"I saved your seat," he whispers, dragging his bag off of the chair.

"Thanks," you say, actually touched. "You didn't have to."

He shrugs. "You're my reading buddy."

The next day, he's sitting at the library's entrance when you walk in. Jason shakes his head. "All the seats were already taken when I got here."

"Ugh." Strictly speaking, you don't need to study tonight. You're pretty confident about the next test's material, and you're also pretty burnt out.

"We could check out the Student Center?" he suggests. As if it's a given that the two of you are going to spend the afternoon together. And, you realize, after two straight weeks of studying in his proximity, you don't mind the presumption. That's how you made your closest friend in undergrad, anyway.

In fact, you think you might want to get to know Jason. Maybe ask about his white streak; you've been growing more and more curious about it. And why he's about seven feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle but has a passion for romance novels.

"I don't think I've studied in there before."

"It's not too bad, but it's a little louder than the library."

So you two head to the Student Center, but he doesn't open his book, and you open your laptop but don't turn it on. He buys you coffee, though you insist that you can pay for it yourself, and a simple query into what book he's reading currently turns into a two-hour conversation.

Jason likes to read every genre, but he likes classics and romance best. He doesn't just have one brother, he has four, and a sister. He's not on the football team like you'd assumed; he just likes to work out. He's finishing up his sophomore year of undergrad studying English Lit—he sees how your smile freezes at those words, and you're asking how old he is, and he's laughing when he tells you he took a couple gap years. He's your age, actually, and that's relieving for reasons you can't quite put to words.

When you check your watch and curse at the time—it's almost time for your cat's dinner—he asks for your number, and you put it into his phone.

You feel good on your walk home. You haven't made a new friend since the first semester of vet school; the course load is too demanding for you to participate in any GCU clubs. Your roommate asks why you're smiling and you wave him off. Of course, your cat doesn't care that you're in a good mood. He only cares about getting fed.

You see Jason a couple more times over the week, and soon you're too embarrassed to admit that you thought he was stalking you. He's almost as bad a texter as you are, responding at such hours you're half-convinced he doesn't sleep, so you're less self-conscious about taking hours to respond.

You've just gotten around to answering his last text when something knocks against your window.

You drop the phone on your face.

The Red Hood is laughing at you when you open the window to let him in. You'd forgotten he was coming, but you don't say so. He tumbles in, moving a little stiffly, but a lot better than he'd been last week. Your cat, the little traitor, runs to greet him and rubs against his ankles, purring like an engine. The Red Hood bends to pet him. "Hey, kitty." The red helmet tips up and those unnerving white lenses fix on you. "Hey, doc. Here to get my stitches out."

"How have you been feeling?" you ask.

"Good," he says, almost defensively.

It makes you suspect that something is wrong, but when you all pile into the bathroom again like it's a clown car and he pulls up his shirt, the wound is healing nicely. No pink or heat that signals infection, no puffy skin. You remove the stitches quickly, and again he hesitates, like he wants to stay longer.

You find yourself thinking about Jason. You're pretty sure you wish he was here.

"Well, thanks."

"Anytime."

He pauses. "Really?"

You shrug. "I mean, not if you need a hospital. Then I'd expect you to head straight to a hospital. But stuff like this—no worse than this, ideally—I guess I can help you with."

"You're pretty cool for a vet," the Red Hood says. "The last one I visited kept freaking out on me for stealing codeine."

"Well, that's a restricted—wait, you were stealing codeine? What for?"

He shrugs.

"What were you using it for," you repeat sternly.

"Okay!" he says loudly. "Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Wait," you call out uselessly, but he vaults out the window. You gasp and rush to the sill, but there's no Red Hood-shaped puddle on the ground. Instead, his rapidly shrinking form disappears in the distance, swinging between the buildings that make up the Gotham skyline.

You don't see the Red Hood for a while after that, but you hear whispers of him wearing a new costume. You get caught up with finals and Jason, who asks you out after the semester ends.

Your vehement 'yes' takes you by surprise. Him, too, judging by his wide eyes and wider smile. You wonder why he asked if he thought you would say no. You wonder why you didn't realize earlier how desperately you wanted him to.

Now that you're out of school, you pick up shifts at the vet clinic. By some unhappy circumstance, they can only schedule you for the evening shifts. Jason works nights, too, and you've never fully squirreled out where he works, but at least you can spend some days together.

It's when you're walking back from your first shift that you see the Red Hood again after almost three weeks of radio silence. He pulls up next to you on the motorcycle. It's so late that there's no one on the road, so he stays on the asphalt and idles along at your walking pace until you break and say, "Long time no see, Hood."

"Did you miss me?" he teases.

You stop walking, because.

Most of his costume changed. Because it's summer, and even the nights are hot and muggy, you assume.

The pants are the same. So are the boots. But his jacket is red and sleeveless and has a hood that goes down to his eyebrows, the armor beneath short-sleeved, which means most of his arms are bare.

And...

Your mouth is dry. You swallow.

You're pretty sure not even Batman is that ripped. He looks like he's chiseled out of marble.

The longer you're speechless, the more amused he gets. You don't know how you know that, but something about his posture seems smug.

"You're taking 'red hood' seriously now, are you?" is all you manage to say. Because what else are you supposed to comment on? His bare forearms? His veins are so beautifully pronounced, they would be a dream to take blood from, but you have a boyfriend of a whole one and a half weeks, and you may be many things, but you're not a cheater.

He laughs, then pulls his hood low when it slips back a bit. His voice is still modulated, although it's not through a red helmet anymore. This is more like a muzzle. You can't tell if the eye covering is part of it, or like the domino masks that Batman and Robin wear, but the lenses are red now instead of white.

He's really leaning into the theme.

"You want a ride?"

"We're two blocks from my apartment."

He shrugs. "I'm heading there anyway."

What the hell. You've already hopped on the back of his bike before. It's easier to do so the second time. You wrap your arms around his torso again, and when his arms settle over your own, they're warm with his body heat, but not hard, even though the muscles look sharp enough to cut glass. He's firm all over, but his skin is soft, apart from the raised, bumpy scars that seem to cover him from head-to-toe. It makes you worry about him, just a little.

He doesn't drive fast this time. He drives slow enough to hold a conversation and tosses over his shoulder, "So what's new with you?"

"Not much," you say into his ear. Is it just you, or does he shiver? "I finished another semester of vet school."

"Top grades, I'm sure. Did you get extra credit for patching me up?"

"I wish." No, your grades are good, but not exceptional. But exceptional is what got you into vet school. As long as you graduate with a DVM, even if you're the lowest in your class, you're a licensed doctor. There's some relief in that. "The dude I thought was stalking me asked me out, actually."

"Really?" he asks, interested and alert. "Was he really stalking you? Do you need me to scare him off for you?"

"No," you say, smiling at the thought of the Red Hood trying to scare off Jason. They're about the same build, now that you think about it, which you're sure the vigilante isn't used to. And Jason's never been anything but gentle and polite, but you saw an undercurrent of something strong, something like titanium, under that gentle spirit the one time he stood up for one of the baristas at the coffee shop that you first spoke to each other. He hadn't needed to do much apart from stand up and glare at the beleaguered corporate guy angry that there wasn't enough sugar in his coffee, and the dude shut up and scurried out as fast as he could.

It was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen him do, except for that one time you pushed your laptop a little too close to the edge of your desk while studying, it tipped over, and he caught it one-handed without looking up from his book. What can you say? Saving you a couple hundred dollars in getting that fixed was hot.

"It was a misunderstanding," you say. "We just ended up in the same places at the same times."

A gust of wind pushes back the Red Hood's hood, exposing a head of thick, dark hair, the same shade of black as Jason's. The motorcycle swerves in his haste to pull his hood back up, and when you reach your apartment and hop off the bike, he's pushing his hair back, back, beneath the hood.

What's the point of ditching the helmet if he's just going to be fussing with the hood all the time?

"What's new with you?" you ask, scuffing your toe against the sidewalk. Your shoes are falling apart; the sole is peeling away.

"Same old, same old," he says. His voice sounds rougher, but that might just be the new modulator.

"How's your side?"

"How's yours?" he counters. "You still haven't let me see it. I bet it scarred because you were too stubborn to take my advice and patch it up."

You will never admit that he's right. You challenge, "Let's compare scars, then," knowing full well his armor dips below his pants. It's a little silly to picture the Red Hood wearing an armored one-piece, but that's all you can imagine.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. It dislodges the hood. A patch of hair falls down to his forehead, and it's white.

But the back of his hair is black.

White and black—

Your stomach flips.

"I thought you had a boyfriend, honey. Why're you asking me to strip?"

So that's what all the teasing's been about. He hasn't been flirting—or he has, his own weird version of flirting, because he's a dumbass.

For a moment all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, then you flex your fingers to regain feeling in them. You roll your eyes and say, "I think we've established that my apartment is basically a strip club. Why don't you come up and show me, Jason?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but—what?" He splutters like he's choking on his own tongue. Serves him right. "I'm not—why do you think that—I mean, I could be anyone—"

Yeah, he can have his little crisis on the street. You tug on your own fringe, then swipe into the building.

You hear his muffled cursing as the door closes.

You look forward to him catching up.

(My requests are open, so let me know if you want me to write anything in particular! Also let me know if you want to be added to a taglist.)

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[themultifanshipper]

Of course Oscar deserved his win. But that didn't mean that Lando wasn't going to be a little shit about it.

Just imagine he's looking at Oscar in this pic and not max ok? Wrote this in like 30 minutes, I just needed to get it out of my brain

Warnings: Jealous Lando, anal sex, bad etiquette, crying, hair pulling, restraining?, drooling, first time domming/bottomming, filth inspired by the drama at hungary 2024

Lando followed Oscar all the way to his driver's room after the podium. They had about 15 minutes before they were scheduled for their post-race debrief (where Lando was probably going to get quite an earful) and he intended to use every single second of it to exact his petty revenge.

“What are you doing?” Oscar said, the breath being knocked out of him as Lando slammed him into the wall and plastered himself against the younger man's back.

“I'm rewarding you for your first win, baby” he said simply, nosing at Oscar's damp neck, leaving sweet kisses in his path.

When his hand reached around and grabbed Oscar through his suit, the younger man keened and rutted into Lando's open palm.

Lando was flying high, seeing his boyfriends willingness to submit to him so easily, because in their relationship Oscar always got what he wanted, and he always wanted to be in charge.

Today however, Lando was sick of Oscar getting his way, he'd almost hoped that McLaren would let him keep position but no such luck, and he decided to take it into his own hands (literally).

His hands slithered up to unzip Oscar's suit as he whispered into his ear seductively.

“Right now I'm in control, and you're going to take everything I give you, understood?”

Oscar gasped and nodded quickly, blush rapidly spreading over the side of his face that Lando could see.

Maybe Oscar needed this as much as Lando did.

In no time their suits were bunched up at their thighs, fireproofs still on, but pulled down enough for Lando to pull his cock out.

Oscar was open and leaking as he babbled his way through a plea for Lando to just get on with it.

So Lando obliged, one hand around Oscar's already marked up throat, the other spreading him open, as he breached his rim.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, just the tip inside, and Oscar got frustrated and wiggled his hips to try and push back against Lando's cock. But it was no use, Lando’s hand pushed Oscar back against the wall roughly, before sliding all the way in to the base.

Oscar was trapped between a wall and a hard place (excuse the pun) as Lando pinned him flat, and his hands scrambled uselessly for purchase against the bare wall.

Lando didn't waste any time pounding into his boyfriend, aware that they didn't have much time left, pouring all his anger and frustration into the movement of his hips as Oscar muffled his wails into his fist against the wall.

That wouldn't do. So Lando grabbed both Oscar's wrists and twisted his arms to pin them behind his back. He also threaded his fingers through Oscars hair and pulled.

The new position made Oscar arch and Lando hit impossibly deeper, making him moan even louder.

“That's right baby, I want to hear you… I want everyone in this fucking building to hear how good you are for me, and only me…”

He was getting close, the adrenaline from the race keeping him on edge ever since he got out of the car, so his other hand snuck down and started pumping Oscar's cock in time with his thrusts.

Oscar was sobbing by this point, drooling all over himself as Lando abused his prostate over and over.

About a second before he came, they heard a knock at the door, which happenend to be unlocked (by accident or on purpose, Lando would never admit) and a voice told them they were late for the meeting.

Unfortunately it was too late to stop the extremely loud, sinful (heavenly) noise that came out of Oscar as he came around Lando, and all over his hand and the wall.

There was no way whoever it was hadn't heard and quickly understood what was happening, and Lando tumbled over the edge at the thought of that (he was a freak, what can you do?) and he came deep inside his boyfriend, who was panting against the wall.

Lando wiped his hand on Oscar's fireproofs, quickly dragged his bottoms back up, and zipped him up again.

“There, you go in first and tell them I'll be there in a second” Lando said, taking in the fully disheveled state of the man in front of him.

Cheeks red and wet with tears, visible marks above his collar, suspicious bruise on his cheek, and the invisible, but very uncomfortable cum that was probably leaking out of him.

He was perfect. Lando was so disgustingly in love.

Oscar got to the meeting first, didn't look anyone in the eye and sat down quickly without a word.

Then Lando strolled in a minute later, cool as a cucumber and sat next to him.

One glance around the room told him everything he needed to know about who had been outside their door, as the woman on the other side of Oscar was redder than he thought was possible for a human being, and Zak stood there with fury in his eyes.

Lando smirked. Thank god he was a bit of a masochist, because he was really in for it now.

[berristreasuredlibrary]

All characters are aged up as needed, MDNI 18+ !!!! Tryna get back into writing, it's a little sucky so I apologize. Spitroasting next?? Also not proofread :3

"Watch closely, brat. I won't explain it again. Got it? If you put her legs over your shoulders, you can go deeper - shit - and you'll hit the spot that - there we go, easy. Look at her, I got it spot on, didn't I?"

The older man above you shifts his hips, rolling them into yours slowly, fingers digging into your plush thighs - his nails leaving faint crescent-shaped marks upon your skin. The tip of his leaking cock prods against the gummy spot within your spasming walls, a soft grunt leaving him when your nails scorch marks down his back.

Your mewls grow increasingly louder as you near your peak, with how expertly he fucks you. Deep, slow strokes over and over, making your mind hazy and your toes curl. Yet the thing that brings you closer and closer to the edge is the pair of eyes watching entranced on the edge of the bed. Wide-eyed and lips parted in awe, your boyfriend watches his mentor bring you closer and closer to the edge, his eyes locked on where the older man's dick disappears into your squelching pussy.

It's perverted, it's wrong, but it's so damn sexy; watching you writhe and moan the name of his teacher. Watching your hands claw at anything they could grab hold of - the sheets, your tits, or the arms of the man above you. He can feel his own cock straining against the confines of his pants, just begging to be free, begging for some time of relief.

Yet he keeps his hands clenched on his thighs, refusing to look away from the erotic scene playing before him, even as his dick throbs and jumps with each sound you make. He forces his eyes from where you and the older man are joined to your face, watching your brows scrunch together and your eyes flutter, your lips parted in a perfect 'o' to let the most sinful sounds tumble out of.

When your orgasm does crash over you, his eyes dart back down to your pussy, watching as your juices come squirting out, coating his mentor's thighs and pelvis with your essence, his breath stopping entirely. The older man lets out a harsh exhale, gripping your thighs tighter as he grinds his hips against the backs of your thighs, balls flush against your ass.

His eyes move to the younger man at his side, watching him closely as he nods down at you. "Rub her clit. Tight circles. Not too fast - yeah, just like that. Good, good. Look at her, watch her face." The older man can feel his own orgasm rapidly approaching, the way your pussy clamps and gushes around his dick paired with the way you sound making it difficult to hold off his orgasm.

Gritting his teeth, he lets his head fall back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggles to maintain his composure. When your moans trail off to soft whimpers, he pulls out of you with a sharp inhale, squeezing the base of his dick as he looks down at your limp, twitching form. "There, I assume you don't need my help anymore? Just do what I told you and you'll have your little girlfriend squirting without problem."

As the older man steps back, looking down for his jeans, the younger man speaks up, his voice ragged with barely concealed desire. "Wait." The younger man reaches out to grab a hold of his wrist, stopping his mentor and looking up at him with desperation, making breathing difficult.

"Can you teach me how to creampie?"

~

Eren + Levi

Simon (Ghost) + Johnny (Soap)

Sukuna + Yuuji

+ more

[loulou-land]

Don’t Leave Me (I’m Staying)

This was meant to be a tiny lil ficlet based on a prompt line (that I didn’t even end up using in the actual fic) and then it turned into this…a drunk bucktommy fix-it of sorts lol. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy it! Ps. Tommy is hard on himself in this one and blames himself entirely for the break up, that in no way represents my opinions on the matter. It’s just how it turned out in this fic 😋

bucktommy | wc: 2,711 | post break up, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort |

Read here or on ao3

The call came in a little past midnight. Tommy had gone to bed early—after the usual romantic comedies failed to hold his attention and only made him feel more miserable. He’d hoped for a rare, dreamless sleep. But instead he found himself trapped in one of his recurring nightmares—memories of leaving the loft, ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him—when the sharp ring of his phone jolted him awake, his heart pounding before his brain caught up.

Squinting at the screen, his breath hitched.

E. Buckley

He almost dropped his phone in his haste, thumb fumbling to answer the call before it stopped ringing.

“B—Buck?” he stammered. “Are you okay?”

There was a pause, and then a voice that was definitely not Evan’s, heavy with irritation and booze, spoke.

“Hey, this Tommy?”

Tommy frowned, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, that’s me. Where’s Evan? Is he okay?” His mind raced, already conjuring a million scenarios, none of them good.

“Define ‘okay’,” the guy snorted. Tommy’s stomach dropped before he focused on the rest of the words. “Your boy’s shit-faced. Keeps crying and saying your name. Maybe come get him so the rest of us can drink in peace?” the man slurred.

Tommy’s heart lurched at the thought of Evan crying. He forced out a tight thanks to the drunk man, getting the name of the bar while he yanked on his jeans and boots. Thirty-five minutes later, he was parked in front of a dingy-looking dive lit by flickering neon signs and plastered with shady looking posters promising “quality alcohol.”

For a moment, he debated calling someone else—Eddie, or maybe even Sergeant Grant—but then wondered why Evan would come to an out of the way dive like this, alone. Steeling himself, Tommy decided to go in, keeping 9-1-1 dialed on his phone, just in case.

It didn’t take long to find him. Evan was sprawled over the bar top, head buried in his folded arms, his curls sticking out every which way. Tommy’s heart raced at the sight of him, as well as feeling an overwhelming sense of relief at once again being in the same room as Evan.

Tommy made his way through the bar, clocking in all the exits and keeping an eye on the other patrons, bracing himself for any trouble.

“Hey, Ev—Buck,” he hastily corrected himself, as he came up beside him. “Let’s get you home.”

Bleary baby blue eyes lifted, unfocused but just as bright as always. A lopsided grin spread across Evan’s face.

“Tommy” he slurred, his voice full of unguarded wonder. “My Tommy.”

Tommy’s chest tightened painfully at Evan’s words. He knew he’d be Evan’s until the day he died—leaving that night hadn't changed that, had only made it worse. It had made him realize that Evan was it for him. But it also confirmed what he’d always feared: Evan deserved more than a broken man like him. Still, hearing Evan call him his, ignited a flicker of hope he couldn’t afford to acknowledge. Not right now.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he whispered. “You okay, Buck?”

“Nooo,” Evan protested, shaking his head so vehemently he almost tumbled off the stool, if not for Tommy catching him and keeping a steady hand on him.

“Not Buck,” Evan mumbled, burping mid-sentence. “Not to you. Ev…Evan,” he said, poking Tommy in the chest and trying to glare at him—a glare somewhat softened by the way he kept squinting and hiccuping.

Tommy exhaled a shaky laugh, a pang of something tender and broken twisting deep in his chest. Even like this, Tommy couldn't help but be absolutely endeared by the other man.

“Alright, Evan. Let’s get you out of here.”

“I don’t want to go home, it’s empty a…and—lonely” Evan replied quietly, eyes shifting away as he made himself smaller.

“Hey, no…it’s okay.” Tommy’s heart cracked, guilt taking hold of him. “I’ll take you to Eddie’s—”

“Ha!” Evan cuts in, chuckling bitterly. “No, that’s empty too.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy frowned, feeling a sense of foreboding creep up on him.

“He’s in Texas, looking at houses,” Evan paused, exhaling deeply. “He’s leaving…everyone leaves me. Why—” He trailed off, slumping as though the weight of everything was suddenly falling over him.

Tommy went rigid, the raw vulnerability in Evan’s voice cutting through him like a blade. Tommy thought he had braced himself for whatever tonight would bring but he hadn’t prepared for this—seeing the possible aftermath of his absence carved into the man he loved.

“Okay,” Tommy said, his resolve crumbling. His next words came out hesitantly, almost afraid…of what, he didn’t know. Rejection or the thought of what would come after—inevitably breaking his own heart again. “I’ll take you to my house.”

He knew it was selfish, he didn't have a right to this anymore, no right to be the one Evan leaned on. But he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to take care of Evan, just for tonight, even if saying goodbye in the morning might destroy him.

“With you?” Evan asked, his voice trembling with disbelief as he looked up at him.

Tommy’s stomach dropped. “Yeah, sweet…heart,” his voice catching on the endearment that slipped out. “With me. I want to make sure you're okay. Is that alright? I can call Bobby or Hen if you’d rather—”

“No!” Evan yelled, eyes wide and glassy. “Take me with you, please?”

“Shh,’’ Tommy soothed, gently brushing away the tears gathering at the edges of Evan’s eyes. “Don’t cry, honey. You can come with me.”

It took some effort to get him upright, but eventually, Tommy had an arm around Evan’s waist and one of Evan’s draped over his shoulder as they headed for the door.

Suddenly, a man stepped in front of them.

“So, you came for your boy?” the man slurred, swaying unsteadily. Tommy recognized his voice as the caller.

Tommy tensed, his mind racing through potential threats, readying himself to protect Evan. Only, instead of hostility or the expected homophobic barb, the man pointed a half-empty beer at him and said, “You better fix it. Take him home and grovel.”

Tommy blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…yeah,” he managed, unsure how else to respond.

The drunk shook his head and stumbled back toward the bar, muttering incomprehensible things all the while.

Tommy exhaled deeply. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” he muttered, tightening his grip on Evan as they headed for the exit.

______________________________________

The drive to his house was quiet, except for the occasional hiccup or muttered word from Evan.Tommy had gotten him to drink a full water bottle, before Evan slumped against the passenger window for the rest of the trip. He did his best to drive carefully, not wanting to dislodge him or have him bump his head. Tommy kept his eyes on the road but couldn’t help glancing at him every few seconds.

When they finally arrived, Tommy parked and hurried to the passenger side, slipping an arm under Evan’s knees and bracing the other against his back. He lifted him with a grunt, feeling Evan’s steady weight against him as the other man buried his face in Tommy’s neck, sniffing deeply and mumbling against his skin. The sensation of Evan’s lips on his neck sent a shiver throughout his body.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy moved inside, carrying Evan to the couch. He eased him down gently, propping him up as he kneeled in front of him to tug off his shoes, feeling Evan’s eyes following his every movement as he did so.

Then Evan mumbled, hesitantly. “Tommy, I’m sorry…just, sorry.”

Tommy froze, his throat tightening. He looked up sharply. “Evan, you don't need to apologise for this. I'm always happy to help you,” he said, keeping his voice calm, trying to soothe him.

But Evan shook his head weakly, a new wave of tears spilling over his flushed cheeks. “No.” he whispered, voice breaking. “I'm sorry for being too much. For messing it all up. I always…jump ahead of myself and…I didnt mean to scare you away.” His voice trailed off in a pleading tone.

The words hit Tommy like an avalanche, burying him under their weight and his breath left him in a rush. His hands stilled, hovering over Evan’s untied laces as his chest clenched painfully. Too much? He couldn't believe what he was hearing. When Tommy left that night, he knew he was breaking both their hearts, but he thought Evan would be able to move on easily. He’d convinced himself that someone as bright, good and incredibly kind as Evan would find someone better—someone who really deserved him. And in the end, Tommy wouldn’t be missed.

But, he hadn't anticipated this. He hadn't anticipated this.

Tommy sat back on his heels, trembling as the realization of Evans words and his own actions crashed down on him. He needed to fix this. He couldn't live with himself knowing that this wonderful selfless man blamed himself for Tommy’s cowardice.

“Hey,” Tommy said softly, his voice catching in his throat as he tried to draw Evan’s eyes to his. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and brushing a stray curl from Evan’s damp forehead, his breath stuttering when Evan followed the motion.

Tommy swallowed hard in the silence of the room, broken only by Evan’s quiet sniffles.

“It wasn't you, okay? It wasn't you, Evan.” Tommy said, his voice thick, as he emphasized Evan’s name, needing him to understand that. “This…It was entirely on me.”

Evan frowned, the words lighting a fire in his eyes and stirring something defiant in him. His expression shifted, his mouth tightening as his brows furrowed in bitter disbelief. “Really?” He scoffed, voice cutting. “You're giving me the "it's not you, it's me" line?” A bitter laugh spewing from his mouth. “They all leave me, but it's okay…because it's not me,” he said derisively.

Evan sucked in a shuddering breath, his voice cracking when he spoke again. “You want to know something funny? I didn't think you’d leave. But—” His hands rose up to his face, gripping it as though trying to keep the words in, before giving up. They dropped limply to his lap.

Tommy’s heart twisted, knowing what was coming. He could already feel the sting of it.

“You left. You left me, Tommy.”

Evan’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the words still reverberated in the room.

And Tommy shattered.

Those words, they obliterated him. Every defense he had crumbled, leaving him raw and exposed, guilt bleeding through every crack. He felt the tears running down his face, and he tried to hold himself together—not wanting Evan to see what his words had done to him. But wasn’t that the very thing that had brought them here? Tommy hiding himself away from the world, scared to show himself for fear of being hurt. But he was already hurting—and had been from the moment he walked out the door that night.

He looked up at Evan, whose face was heartbreakingly vulnerable, tears shimmering in his blue eyes, but completely open to him, his pain laid bare for Tommy to see. It was only fair, Tommy did the same.

“I know,” Tommy rasped, voice thick and uneven. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

He pressed a hand to his chest—instinctive, desperate—as if trying to hold his heart together.

For one wild moment, Tommy wished he could rip it out and hand it to Evan, to show him that it had always been his. From the day Evan had smiled at him after a hurricane rescue gone well, Tommy’s heart had belonged to him. It always would. Instead, his fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, useless, trembling, trying to show how much he meant it.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” he whispered again.

Evan blinked at him, fresh tears spilling over as he exhaled a trembling breath. The room was silent save for their uneven breathing. They just looked at each other, months of pain and longing passing unspoken between them.

Then, they moved at the same time—Tommy leaning forward, giving in to the urge to touch, to comfort, to heal. He gathered Evan in his arms, pulling him close.

“You didn’t mess anything up, baby.” Tommy murmured, the endearment coming out naturally again. He felt Evan’s head drop to his shoulder, shuddering against him. “I did. I was scared. Scared of you seeing the real me…the broken man behind the façade. And I thought—” he stopped, his throat closing up painfully for a second. “I thought leaving would protect my heart. That it would be better if I left before I got in any deeper. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t any better. Oh god…Evan.”

A sob tore through him as he held Evan tighter, his grip unyielding, as if letting go might break him once and for all. Evan’s arms wrapped around him just as fiercely, his hands clutching at Tommy’s back with equal desperation.

For the first time in months, Tommy let himself feel everything he’d been holding back. The pain of being apart from Evan, the weight of his regrets and endless “what ifs’ that had haunted him—all of it poured out in body shaking sobs. But this time, he wasn't alone. Evan was there, holding him through it.

And Tommy felt Evan’s pain too—he accepted it, welcomed it, knowing he had caused it. It was his to carry, and he’d carry it for as long as he needed to.

Evan didn't say anything for a while, his face buried against Tommy's neck as he took in shaky, uneven breaths—shivering in his arms. When Evan finally spoke, his voice was a broken whisper. “It hurt. It hurt so much, Tommy.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. He nodded, taking responsibility for the hurt, before giving in to the need and pressing a soft kiss to the side of Evan’s head.

He knew Evan wasn't trying to hurt him with those words. He just wanted Tommy to understand and…he did.

Tommy’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper when he at last pulled himself together. “I can’t take away what I did, but if you’ll let me…I’ll do my best to make it better.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with a promise Tommy didn’t intend to break. Evan pulled back, searching his face before taking both of Tommy’s hands in him, squeezing emphatically with every word that spilled from him. “We…We will make it better. Together an—and, we’re going to stay for each other. O—okay?” he stuttered.

Tommy felt something click, something slot back inside of him—relief, grief, hope, love—all fitting together in a way that finally made sense. “Okay.” he answered, unhesitatingly, with the full conviction of a man who’d gone through hell and made it out.

Evan sighed, slumping fully against him in relief. Slowly, the tension drained from his body, his breathing evening out as exhaustion and the lingering effects of the alcohol took over.

Tommy shifted, settling them down to lay on the couch, his arms still wrapped securely around Evan. He felt completely wrung out, pulled inside out, but for the first time in months, he felt no regret.

He looked down at Evan, now curled up against him, his face tranquil and smoothed in sleep. Tommy brushed a hand lightly over his back, grounding himself in the reality of holding him again.

Tomorrow, they would talk. Whether Evan remembered tonight or not, Tommy would lay everything out again. He’d fight for them—for the second chance he’d been too afraid to ask for before. Therapy, hard conversations, whatever it took.

Because now he knew. He’d finally realized what he should have understood all along: Evan deserved someone who would stay.

And Tommy was done running.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but his mind flashed to Evan squeezing his hands and promising they’d do it together. Hope flickered unwaveringly in his chest, easing the ache in his heart and, at long last Tommy felt like he could breathe again.

Evan stirred slightly, his fingers twitching against Tommy’s arm as he mumbled, “Stay.”

Tommy pressed a kiss to Evan’s hair as he whispered “I’m not going anywhere, love. Not this time.”

And he meant it.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

my safety and my honor

inspired by this post "so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honor what else was I supposed to do"

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, cheating, male receiving oral, a little angsty?

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

“what is it?” rafe asks, hands cupping your face as you hyperventilate. “y/n, what is it?”

“my boyfriend owes barry, and now he’s threatening me.” you manage to explain, the words coming out in a fast tumble. you knew when barry confronted you outside your home that morning, there was one person to go to, and it wasn’t your boyfriend who got you into this mess, but rafe.

“shit.” rafe groans, running his hand through his hair. “what is he doing getting messed up with barry? he’s a bad dude, and now you’re involved.” “maybe i can pay him, i-i don’t know. he didn’t say how much he owes but i-” “fuck that.” rafe says. “i know how addicts are. you can’t pay for your boyfriend because then he’ll never learn, never face any consequences.”

“what else am i supposed to do?” you ask, throwing your hands up as you begin to pace, not able to keep your hands from shaking. barry fucking terrified you, and while you want your boyfriend jonathan to make better decisions in the future, you also don’t want anything to happen to you because of his dumb decisions.

“break up with his ass, first of all.” rafe says. it’s not the first time he’s advised you to break up. rafe has been your best friend since you were in kindergarten and he stopped one of the boys from bullying you and tugging on your pigtails.

“rafe-” you begin, knowing that’s not a serious solution.

“and i’ll talk to barry.” rafe cuts you off. he’s not sure how much talking will actually be done, but he needs to make sure that barry won’t ever come close to you again. he needs to know that you are off limits in every way. no threats, no intimidation, no flirting either while he’s at it.

“thank you, thank you, thank you.” you say, throwing your arms around rafes shoulders, burying your head into his neck. “if you just convince him to give jonathan a little more time, he can pay him back.” “i’ll see what i can do about that.” rafe wraps his arms around your waist, holding you against him. “either way, i will make sure barry doesn’t come after you again.”

--

“oh my god!” you jump up from your spot on the couch, having sat nervously for the past hour biting on your fingernails and waiting for rafe to return from barrys.

“i’m fine.” rafe says, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. “it’s not my blood… for the most part.”

“let me clean you up, come on.” you rush towards the bathroom, rafe following closely behind you. he shuts the toilet lid and takes a seat, groaning slightly as he does, sure that his ribs are bruised from the few punches barry was able to deliver back to him.

you turn on the warm water before getting a towel to clean him up. you dab at rafes face, his blue eyes looking back into yours as you clean away the blood, noticing his jaw is starting to bruise slightly.

“i didn’t think this is what you meant when you said you were going to talk to barry.” you say, sinking to your knees, thankful for that bathmat providing some cushion on the tile floor as you move rafes hands to resting on his knees so you can clean his arms and hands.

“i had to let him know to stay away from you, baby.” rafe says, making you blush at the nickname, but he doesn’t see as he squeezes his eyes shut when you wipe the damp cloth over his knuckles.

“if i knew you were going to hurt yourself, i never would have let you go.” you say with a sigh, hating that rafe was injured because of you. you stand and return to the sink, rinsing the towel clear of blood and rewetting it before returning to your knees.

“i would do anything for you, y/n.” rafe whispers as you work on cleaning his wrists of the droplets of now dried blood.

“stop it.” you sniffle, trying to hold back tears. you toss the towel into the hamper when you’re all finished, standing up and not letting your mind stop you as you slide onto rafes lap, pressing your lips against his. he doesn’t even hesitate for a second before kissing back, his hands coming to your waist and pulling you tight against him, pressing your chests together.

you moan into the kiss, reaching down to stroke rafe through his thick jeans. you know you shouldn’t be doing this, you have a boyfriend after all, but you have to do something to show rafe your appreciation for defending your safety.

you slide to your knees, retaking your spot between his legs. you frown at his bruised knuckles, pressing the gentlest kisses you possibly can to the red, split flesh. you rub your hands over his thighs as you do so, moving higher and higher as you go.

“y/n, stop-” rafe gasps when your hand ghosts over his crotch. “you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” you tell him, fluttering your eyes up to look at his face, his devastatingly beautiful face, the bruise only growing.

“fuck-” rafe curses when you rub your hand harder, unable to keep himself from hardening in his pants. he’s wanted you like this for so long, but he wanted you to be wholly his when he finally gets you on your knees, not you doing it to thank him for something your boyfriend should have done.

rafe stands up suddenly, making you fall backwards onto your bum. “just-just if we are going to do this.” rafe reaches down, grabbing you by your waist and picking you up with ease, carrying you out of the bathroom. it might not be rafes ideal situation, but he’s at least going to make sure whatever happens next doesn’t happen in the bathroom.

he carries you to his room before sitting down on the bed, letting you slide down onto the floor again, taking the same spot as before on your knees, clear what your intentions are when your hands begin to rub over his length again.

you work on unbuttoning his pants, then unzipping as well, tugging open the two flaps to reveal his underwear. you lean forward, pressing your lips to the part of his length only concealed by one layer of fabric instead of two.

you lean backwards, looking up at rafe expectantly, who like always knows what you want without you having to ask for it as he lifts his hips, letting you tug his jeans down. you frown when you realize they will get caught on his shoes, untying his laces and taking them off as well before pulling them the rest of the way away.

rafe spreads his legs when you retake your spot, his cock now clearly straining against his underwear, hard and waiting impatiently for you.

you lean forward, moving directly to where the head of his cock is, opening your mouth and sinking your lips around it, wetting the fabric as your tongue works on rubbing against him.

“that-” rafe gasps when you manage to suck him through his underwear, creating a delicious amount of pressure. “that feels so good.”

you smile slightly as you pull back. you’ve never got this reaction because of jonathan before. he praised you when you got him off, but it never made you feel the giddy way that rafe certainly does. a guilty part of you acknowledges that it may be because you know that you’re cheating at this very moment.

you sit back and quickly tug his underwear down, not even waiting for rafe to lift his hips as you use force to get them down, flinging them across the room without care, your eyes already staring hungrily at rafes cock, now standing up straight and free from constraints.

you glance up briefly at rafe, giving him a chance to stop you, even though you really don’t want him to as you lean forward, sinking your lips down over his cock, immediately starting to bob your head as you get used to his impressive length. not only is he longer than your boyfriend, he’s a bit thicker as well, making your cheeks stretch even more.

you use your tongue to rub against his shaft as you move, and judging by the way rafe is moaning incessantly, he really likes the way it feels.

you place your hands on his thighs and take a deep breath through your nose before pushing down, attempting to take him all the way to the back of your throat. you gag slightly, but continue until your nose is against his skin. rafe presses a hand to the back of your head, keeping you trapped there as your throat constricts around him.

the urge to cough is finally too great as you pull off with a wheezing breath. you don’t give yourself a big break as you immediately press kisses to the head of his cock, now covered in your spit as your hand grips the base of his dick, jerking gently to still provide as much stimulation as you can.

“thank you.” you mumble against rafes length, dropping your lips to kiss and lick along the shaft too. “thank you.” you whisper again, mouth moving lower as your hand strokes over his whole length, your mouth ghosting over his balls before sucking one into your mouth.

rafe curses, his hands fisting in the bedsheets. you move to the other side, sucking for a moment as well before moving up his length again.

you wrap your lips around his head, giving it a hearty suck before beginning to bob your head again, keeping your hand wrapped around his base, but your lips press against your fingers every time, taking as much as you can.

“i can’t last much longer.” rafe warns, his voice raspy.

you just give a little hum of acknowledgement, sucking with purpose now as you use every trick that you can against him, even flicking your tongue against the head of his cock every time you pull up.

rafe lets out a loud groan, and then you feel him swelling in your mouth, knowing his release is impending as you suckle on his head, long ropes on cum spurting into your mouth. your hand strokes over his length as he works through his high. you hold his cum in your mouth until he’s finished, tongue swishing over the liquid, memorizing the taste before swallowing it down. 

you pull away with a shaky breath, looking up to rafe. “thank you.” you say again, standing up and pressing a closed mouth kiss against his lips, not letting yourself fall back into his arms.

you stand up, tears in your eyes, knowing you need to go talk to jonathan, to help him get his shit sorted with barry and then leave him for putting you in danger. you turn towards the door, glancing back only when you hear rafe flop backwards onto the bed, covering his face with his hands.

you leave him there, knowing you'll be back soon enough.

[nyctoaerah]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Who would've known that the man you spent a night with was the very same man that you're planning to kill? It was a cruel twist of fate, cause as you spent more time with him, you found yourself growing attached-inlove even. But, you ended up knowing the truth about suguru’s death, and the thirst for justice and redemption for Suguru consumed you. The pursuit of absolution drove you to consider any means necessary, even if it meant risking your own well-being, your sanity, your very essence. You were willing to sacrifice everything just to obtain the revenge you so desperately craved, even going as far as to ignore your feelings for Satoru. After all, it doesn't really matter, because Gojo Satoru was yours, he was yours to play with, he was yours to manipulate, and yours to kill, and he’s not complaining about it.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit smut, dub-con (kinda since they’re drunk) overstimulation, drunk sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), dirty talk, nasty shit all that. Virginity loss.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Op! Assassin! Suguru's adopted daughter! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This story is the revamped version of my previous fic “Devil in Disguise” it has the same plot, but this one just has a better story flow in my point of view;) also available in Wattpad and Quotev! Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I already posted this, but this time, i extended it and actually posted the full smut;33 Also, random fact; Gojo’s fingers are canonically 6 inches;)

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Next chapter

YOU HAD SOUGHT REFUGE in the confines of a random club, craving the numbness that alcohol promised.

You were hoping that the pulsating music vibrating through your bones and swirling burn of alcohol would drown out the  hollow emptiness you were feeling, you wanted to push all of your thoughts aside—to forget about Suguru’s death.

Just that, all you wanted was to drink and feel the buzz.

So how did you find yourself in this compromising position, your body entwined with a random man whose name you didn’t even knew?

How did you end up on his lap, on his bed, making out with him?

The kiss was feverish, your tongue sliding sensually against his, the taste of his mouth was reminiscent of the tangy sweetness of freshly ripened strawberries, yet there’s also this faint tang of alcohol, a flavor lingering from his previous indulgence, perhaps.

A needy whine escaped your lips as your hips undulated against his, seeking greater friction.

“So impatient...” He mumbled as one of his hands gripped your hip to keep you in place, while the other hiked the fabric of your dress up to your waist, exposing your bare skin to his heated touch.

“Can i?”

You whispered, your voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. His breath hitched as your fingers grazed the silk blindfold covering his eyes. 

“Do as you please pretty girl. I’m all yours.”

You hooked your fingers beneath the bandages and slowly, reverently, lifted it away, revealing eyes half-lidded and swimming with lust.

Long, white lush lashes framed irises the deep, captivating blue of the ocean. Your breath caught in your throat—he looked so exquisitely, devastatingly beautiful without the concealing fabric—He was already pretty with the blindfold on, but gods was he smokin’ hot without it—You’re not sure if you’re just exaggerating things, but fuck, did he looked ethereal.

His snow-white hair tumbled down to veil his face in a curtain, softening the sharp spiky hairstyle he had when he was wearing a blindfold.

You bit your lip, watching as the rounded bump just under the skin in the front of his throat bobs ever so slightly at your intense gaze. A slight flush heats up on his skin, and you touched it, pressing the pads of your fingers on his skin.

You scarcely had a moment to bask in the sight before he took the discarded blindfold from your hand and let it fall to the floor, forgotten.

His mouth explored the sensitive column of your neck, tongue tracing lazy, meandering paths.

You arched into his touch slightly, wanting for more contact, craving the delicious friction that might ease the aching tension coiled low in your belly.

“You sure that this is what you want princess?” His silky baritone caressed your ear as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders.

“I don’t wanna take advantage of you, not when you’re drunk.”

“Mhm.. m’ sure.”

Though the drink had clouded your mind, beneath the shallows of intoxication stirred a deeper craving—something you never felt before, you’re sure that you wanted him.

“I’m not drunk.”

His brows arched in doubt as his hand glides down your spine with practiced care, finding the clasp that holds your dress in place, the clasp yields to his deft fingers, baring your flesh to his exploring gaze.

“Your words say yea, angel, but i don’t want no dubious consent. I want full consent.” 

“No, S’ not dubious, you have my full consent.” you murmur, trailing your hands along his neck, tracing the pulsing vein in it before your hands dipped down and slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. Your fingers trace slow circles over his taut abs, feeling the contours of hard muscle and flush skin.    

His body was warm, and quite nice, comforting even.

He shivers at your delicate touch—which you found to be quite cute.

You found his words weird, however—It contrasts with his actions, that’s for sure.

“I want you, okay?” you breathed on his ear, eliciting a visible response upon his flesh as shivers caressed his form. He swallowed with effort, aroused yet wary, cognizant of the libations which dulled your inhibitions as his own.

Satoru was in no means a person who likes alcohol, he hates it, infact, however, he ended up drinking, just in hopes to forget about Suguru.

Very much like you so.

But he didn’t really expected that he would end up having a woman on his lap, not that he’s complaining, ofcourse. You’re quite beautiful after all.

“Hey...It’s still dubious, can be counted as non-consensual too. Cause you’re drunk. I don’t wanna take advantage of you, okay?” He said.

You fixated your gaze on him, a brief moment of silent observation passing between you. His movements, though tinged with a subtle languor, was filled with restraint, that surpassed your own faltering self-control.

“Nope.”

you insist softly.

“I’m not drunk.”

His eyes smolder as he considers your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Your speech is slurred.”

“Nope, S’just an effect from you,” You replied with a lopsided grin.

“You take my breath away.” You mumbled, prompting him to blink owlishly down at you.

“Random as fuck.” He chuckled.

“But, i’ll take it. Just tell me to stop and i’ll stop, yeah?”

Your heart fluttered rapidly at his words, and a faint blush crept onto your cheeks as you swallowed thickly, your throat suddenly felt too tight, too dry.

After all, You hadn’t expected such considerate behavior after everything, such genteel conduct took you aback.

“Safeword?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady.

“hm.. Strawberry?” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“Wait...” you say, craving the taste of his name on your tongue, “I still don’t know your name”

His brow lifts in amusement.

“Would you scream it if i were to tell you?”

You shivered as his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck His lips hovered so tantalizingly close that you could almost feel his ghostly touch against your skin, tempting you to lean into it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave any marks, unless you want me to..?”  His voice was velvety smooth, laced with a hint of lust, causing a flutter in the pit of your stomach.

“Do you want me to?” He murmurs, slowly withdrawing his touch from your skin.

You hesitantly lift your shoulders in response, shrugging.

“Speak, angel, use your words.”

“I’m fine with anything,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

A pleasant hum escaped him. “Good girl.”

You looked at him, pupils dilating slightly.

“You never answered my question though. What’s your name?” you uttered softly, your fingertips caressing the contours of his abdominal musculature in delicate strokes, tracing upwards towards his pectorals. As your hands explored the topography of his torso, drawing sensual patterns across his flesh, his breathing became heavier. He let out a hum of approval, hooking his fingers beneath the hem of his garment and lifting it swiftly over his head in one fluid motion and discarding his shirt on the ground.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes instinctively drawn to the pale line bisecting his torso. The scar was long, yet its texture intrigued you. How did he got it, you wondered.  The scar was long, begining from his throat towards his lower abdomen.

It fascinated you.

You swallowed thickly.

“Can i touch it...?” 

“Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

Your fingers drifted slowly along its length.

“Satoru,”

“My name is Satoru.” he uttered the name, and for some reasons, each syllable was laced with a familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory, muddling your thoughts with a sense of déjà vu.

But you were too loss in the moment, not even able to think clearly, thus, you were oblivious to the fact that...

He’s the person that you’re planning to assassinate.

“That’s a pretty name,” you breathed, your pulse quickening at his caress.

“I’m pretty sure yours is pretty too.” he replied with a soft smile, his blue eyes staring intensely at yours as his thumb swept slowly along your lower lip, parting them like the velvet petals of a rose. An intoxicating shiver ran through your body at his delicate touch.

“[Name],” You mumble and he sighs.

“Sounds like a good name to groan about.”

He murmured and lifted you off him and lied you amongst the silken pillows, your [H/c] tresses fanned out, forming a vivid halo around your flushed features. His eyes lingered over your form, his tongue swiping on  his lower lip to moisten them.

“Alright, Just say the safeword, and i’ll stop, yeah?” He says, earning a nod from you.

“Speak.”

“M-mnh.. yes”

“Good girl.” He praised softly.

“I’ll do all the work, yeah? Just lay down there like a good girl n’ let me please you.”

Slowly, his lips brushed the skin of your neck, eliciting a sigh from you. his fingertips traced your spine down to the clasp of your bra, and a quiet flick of experient fingers released the barrier, freeing your chest to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful.” He complimented.

His fingertips leisurely caress delicate circles around your nipples, coaxing a delicious ache of pleasure to ignite. He lavishes attentions on one nipple, drawing it into his mouth while his nimble digits continue their expert ministrations on its twin, evoking an unabashed moan to escape your quivering lips.

He lets go off your nipples with a pop.

Starting at the base of your sternum, he planted slow, sensuous kisses, inching ever lower towards regions still untouched. When he reached your stomach, he placed a gentle kiss on your belly button.

Moving away from the bed with graceful precision, he knelt before your quivering form and slid greedy hands along your thighs, grasping your hips to pull you on the edge of the bed, so that his head was completely positioned between your legs. A wanton moan escaped you then as he lifted one leg high, draping it over his broad shoulder.

“Relax, f’me pretty girl.” He said, after noticing how tense your body is.

You watched, enamoured as he pressed a line of searing kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh—he looked so pretty while doing that.

He hummed as he saw the dampness in your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathily.

“All we did was kiss, n’ you’re already soakin’ wet.”

His lips traced delicate patterns along your thigh, each fleeting caress like liquid fire on your fevered skin.

Fuck, who would’ve known that he’ll turn you in a whining mess with just his kisses?

Humiliation blooms in your throat as you realized how pathetic you are right now, You clasped a hand over your flushed visage, heart pounding erratically against your ribs.

Satoru seemed displeased with that though.

“Hey, none of ‘that” He scolds.

“Lemme see your pretty face.”

You took a ragged breath, though anticipation swirled within you, nervousness lingered at your edges. But then, this is what you wanted isn’t it?

“I-i don’t wanna.” 

He scoffs and shifted his weight, pressing you further into the pillows.

“Do it.” He says.

You shook your head and he sighs.

“If y’don’t take your hands off your face, i’ll tie you up n’ fuck you till you can’t walk.” 

“ S’ that what you want angel?”

“No..” You sighed, not wanting to get tied up, you slowly curled your fingers away from your flushed face.

“You’re so shameless...” You mumble.

“Yeah, no shame at all. Why would i be shameful of myself when I have a pretty lil’ thing like you under me? All soakin’ wet n’ pretty.”

“Besides... I know you like it anyways,” He mumbled.

Satoru’s tongue, hot and wet, darted out to leave a scorching trail against the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Open your eyes n’ look at me, pretty.”

“I want you to look at me while i eat you out.”

This is so embarrassing and humiliating that it hurts, your throat constricts, his words makes you embarrassed, he was just so blunt, so shameless—he was all so sweet and using romantic words when you’re just kissing.

But fuck, did satoru changed once you gave him your consent, pressin’ you on the sheets like that and saying filthy words.

You reluctantly fluttered your lashes open to meet his stare, laying yourself bare as fingertips ghosted ever higher.

“See? That’s a good girl. Now just lie there princess, let me make you feel good.”

You felt yourself swallowing thickly as he hooked nimble fingers into the lacy edge of your undergarments, sliding the delicate fabric down your legs.

It was slow, agonizingly slow, too slow for your own liking.

Your body suddenly involuntarily jolted as a wave of his scorching breath caressed the intimate flesh between your legs.

“So pretty..” His words were a low murmur, infused with a hunger that made humiliation to bubble up your chest, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t... don’t stare,” you murmur back, feeling self conscious, flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks, your hips shifting involuntarily beneath his intense gaze.

“Don’t stare... S’ making me embarrassed.”

With a devilish smirk dancing on his lips, he gave another teasing lick on your thighs. Satoru wouldn’t lie, he wanted to bite your thigh so bad, sink his teeth on your plush thighs, and leave a mark, but he restrained himself from doing so.

“No, m’not staring love, just... studying, don’t be embarrassed” he murmured almost innocently, his words a stark contrast to the boldness of his actions.

“Besides... You’re so beautiful in here... You just can’t just expect me to not compliment it.” He says.

You shook your head. “It’s not that... It’s just.. i.. i haven’t done this before.” You mumble.

“Haven’t done oral before?” He questioned, watching as your face burned as you shook your head.

“I’m a virgin.” You confirmed.

His sapphire eyes widened at your confession and his throat constricts, adams apple bobbing in his throat.

The revelation caught him off guard, each breath he took feeling like a fleeting gasp of surprise. He had not expected this revelation, not from you. Your actions had spoken of confidence and skill, and, damn, you sure did like a seductress.

His hand twitched, the pads of his fingers pressing on your thighs slightly.

“No wonder you’re so shy...”

He pulled back slightly, a tinge of guilt creeping into his consciousness at the notion of overwhelming you. Aware that his dirty words may be foreign to your ears, he gazes upon you with a mixture of empathy and desire.

“We can stop this if you want.” he offers, his gaze intense and probing.

“Shit no.” you murmur.

“Don’t stop. I want you.” The words escape your lips in a breathy whisper, laden with lust, restraint flickers in his eyes, as he caught his lower lip on his teeth.

“If you say so. I have a thing for popping cherries anyways,” He says with a laugh. 

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as his thumb glided teasingly over your clit.

A playful chuckle escaped his lips at your sensitivity, before he leaned in once again, his warm breath ghosting over your heated skin as he kissed your clit.

“Sensitive, are we?” he chuckles softly before dipping down to give your throbbing clit yet another teasing lick, releasing a desperate whimper from your parted lips.

His fingers gently spread apart your folds, his face inches away as his tongue teases your slit, the wet muscles licks the slick trail that has gathered on your pussy, eliciting soft whimpers from you as your body instinctively responds with a slight arching of your hips.

“aah.. hnngh, satoru”  You mewled.

“You taste so good... heavenly even.”

With another tantalizing lick, he savors the exquisite taste of your arousal. His hungry mouth then latches onto your pulsating clit, sucking on it gently. Moans escaped your parted lips as you clutch onto the sheets.

He devoured you as if starved, his hunger palpable in each expert lick and fervent suck, transforming you into a feast he couldn’t devour quickly enough—Your moans were like delicious music to his ears, and fuck, did it it make him hard. He whines, grinding against the edge of the bed, seeking friction.

“I can just eat you out everyday and not get tired of it...” he moaned shamelessly, his voice slightly muffled as your hips bucked involuntarily, a whimper of pleasure escaping your lips.

“Love your taste so much.”

Satoru’s tongue moved skillfully around your clit, softly brushing against it to send shivers down your spine. With deliberate movements, he gently licked it in distinct patterns, exploring your most sensitive spots.  

His fingers grip tightly onto your hip, while he eagerly indulges in pleasuring and sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing a titillating sensation that makes your inner muscles contract and a surge of euphoria creates a swirling sensation in your stomach.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” satoru whispers, his words muffled by his persistent oral ministrations. As he continues to pleasure you with unwavering determination, the pleasure he evokes from within you cannot be contained, escaping your lips in the form of unrestrained moans. The pleasure becomes so overwhelming that it threatens to engulf your vision, as though a curtain of stars is poised to blind you from the outside world.  

“Fuck, Satoru, i-i’m.. haaah..” You panted, thighs shaking as your insides contracts, a tingling sensation radiating on your body.

“I know. C’mon. Cum for me, angel. Lemme taste you on my tongue,”

You let out a deep moan, succumbing to the intense climax as you cum hard. Radiating satisfaction, satoru hummed contentedly while skillfully lapping up every trace of your released essence.

“You taste like heaven itself, just like i thought...” he whispered, his voice filled with longing, as he withdrew from your pussy and stood up and pressed his lips against yours. The taste of your own cum lingered on his mouth, intoxicating and arousing, causing you to moan in pleasure before surrendering to his passionate kiss. 

As the two of you kissed, his touch ventured lower, his hand finding its way to your puffy clit again, rubbing it, prompting a chorus of moans from you.

Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger probing your hole gathering your slick before slowly pushing inside.

“Breathe.” He whispers.

“Hngnh, Satoru.” You whined on his mouth as he added another, his fingers were so long and thick, filling you so deliciously. The sensation of his fingers stretching you from within was intense and slightly painful, yet somehow enjoyable in its own way. 

“You’re so tight, you gotta relax n’ let me in.”

You bit his tongue, causing him to let out a low moan.

“There..  you gotta adjust.. that’s it, good girl.” He murmurs, whispering sweet nothings into you.

Satoru’s cock throbbed painfully beneath his straining trousers, yet he focused solely on pleasuring you, expertly thrusting his fingers in and out of you. When he grazed upon a certain tender zone, an eyebrow arched knowingly as your riven flesh clenched tightly around his digits as he pulled away for a bit.

“Ahn.. hnn please,” You panted.

“Oh?” He purred slyly.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” He murmured, once more curling his finger upwards and pressing that spot within your pussy, drawing forth a lustrous moan as your arched your velvet back in pleasure.   

“You tightened around me, did i hit a good spot?”

“this is where you’re weak, isn’t it?” His digits thrust rhythmically into your inner sanctum, coaxing ever more ardent moans of euphoria from your lips.

“How cute.”

A molten pool of desire gathered low in your belly, waves of euphoria washing over your trembling frame.  

Satoru bit his lip as his hand slid stealthily down within his own constrained trousers, swiftly freeing his engorged member to pump smoothly within his curled fingers.

His thumb smeared the precum that was leaking on the tip, using it as a lube to slowly jerk off.

“Aahh... Fuck..” he moaned gutturally, his fingers, still buried deep within your moisture-slicked cunt, he withdrew his fingers sluggishly and raised it languidly to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste your essence.

“C’mere.” he says, sitting upright and patting his lap

His voice was ragged with want as he beckoned you closer. You rose from the rumpled bedsheets and moved to him, sitting on his lap, feeling the heat of his gaze as it roamed your naked form.

“Kiss me.” He commands.

You immediately kissed him, the taste of your essence still upon his mouth, and it made butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His cock pressed against your skin as he stroked himself.

“haah... Feel that princess? ’m so hard for you”

Breaking the kiss, you gazed down at satoru, drinking in his beauty as your fingers traced the lines of his chiselled abdomen, following each dip and swell. Your mouth followed the path of your hand, pressing feathery kisses along the scar that he had, revelling in each hitch of his breath and twitch of muscle beneath your ministrations. 

Your gaze then lingered on his cock, admiring its size and girth. The tip was flushed red with arousal, and it twitched at your gaze, you pushed his hand away from it.

He seemed to be surprised at that—yet didn’t make a move to stop you.

“Ah, Ah? Did i told you that you can touch me?” He teased.

You nipped on your lower lip, as you tentatively wrapped your hand around his shaft, marveling at its sheer thickness that challenged your grip.

“No... But i wanted to touch you.” You mumbled, You ache for deeper intimacy, craving the solace of flesh against flesh in your drunken haze. 

“Mmnh.. maybe if you’re really that desperate... Maybe i should just give it to you, hm?”

“Tell me what you want.” he says, his fingers entwining in your hair, tugging gently to lift your gaze to his. A moan escapes you.

“You,” you manage to breathe out, the craving evident in your eyes. His eyebrow quirks.

“Be specific.”  he murmurs, his tone commanding and seductive.

“I wanna please you too,” you confess, your words laced with need—all the shyness from before leaving you, only lust remains. He exhales heavily, releasing his hold on your hair.

“So eager to please aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

He hums.

“Go on. Suck me off, show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

As you followed his command, you delicately bent down and rested your head on his cock. Extending your tongue, you dragged the flat of your tongue and traced the vein that prominently bulged on the underside of his dick.

Your tongue slowly traced a path up his shaft, moving towards the tip. With anticipation, you opened your mouth to take him in, feeling a bit of discomfort as you adjusted to his size. It took some time for your jaw to accommodate the width of his girth as his tip brushed against the back of your throat. 

You looked only to see that he was only half way in, and shit, you just realized how much he’s gonna hurt your throat.

 “Ngh.. you gotta relax your throat if you want to take me in your mouth.” he moans, sensing your discomfort as you struggle not to gag. Following his instruction, you comply, feeling Satoru's sharp intake of breath as he nips his lip in pleasure.

Despite the sensation being pleasing, it's clear that he craves more.

“C’mon angel, take me deeper.” he urges softly, his fingers entangling on your [H/c] locks, his gaze fixated on your hollowed cheeks and watery eyes. The sight of your tears only serves to fuel his desire to push himself further into your mouth, relishing the idea of watching you Choke on him. The thought of you looking so enticing in that vulnerable state drives him to actually thrust himself deeper down your throat. 

Satoru thrusts upwards, causing your throat to constrict as you struggled to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks and saliva dripped onto his shaft.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs.

“That’s it,” he uttered with a sensual groan, his eyes half-closed as he guided your head to move back and forth on his dick. He licked his lips, observing you as you found it difficult to deepthroat him.

He hummed contentedly, the room filled with nasty squelching sounds. He savored the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock like a vice.

Such a poor thing, he thought, feeling your fingers dig into his thighs.  He ran his fingers through your [H/c] tresses before slowly withdrawing from your mouth with an audible pop, a strand of viscous fluid on your lips cheeks flushed and eyes dewy.

“That’s enough, i don’t want you vomitting on my dick.”

Gingerly, he swept the disheveled locks from your face and captured your lips once more, not giving you a time to recover, humming as he tasted himself on you. When at last you broke for air, chests heaving in unison, he met your hooded gaze with a glint of intrigue.

“You suck at this.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as his strong hands found your waist.

“M’ sorry,”  

You shuddered involuntarily as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your neck, eliciting a chill that radiated through your trembling form. Soft whimpers escaped your quivering lips.

“Shhh..” he cooed in a velvet tenor, his palm softly gliding along your side before his digits pressed deeply into the plush of your ass. A small gasp passed through your slightly parted mouth at the fervent sensation of his fingernails gingerly clawing your supple skin. 

“I know that y’wanna please me.”

“But there is no need to overexert yourself,” he said as if he wasn’t the one who practically shoved your face down on his dick.

“I enjoyed it,”

“D-did you?” you inquired.

“Fuck yes, your throat’s squeezin’ me so tight n’ it feels good.” 

A swelling sensation arose within your thorax as elation is in your throat, though an acute pain seized your esophagus. Your larynx felt inflamed and raw, as if scoured by sandpaper. But despite the troubles afflicting your throat, you had performed admirably based on his praise, you felt proud.

“Maybe i should reward you for bein’ so good?” he purrs, his hand sliding from your stomach down to your lower abdomen, a low hum escaping his lips as he plunges his fingers into your hole. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, pressing against your g-spot and stretching you again. As moments pass, he withdraws his fingers, your slick coating them entirely.

“I think you’re more than ready.”

“Let’s get you on top, yeah?” he says lifting your form to straddle his hard cock.

He reveled in the sight of you nestled against his towering frame, a delicate contrast to his strong physique. Each ragged gasp you drew in, every flush on your face, and the smudged remnants of makeup only served to enhance your allure in his eyes.

“C’mon, take me in.” he says, kissing your cheek. “Just hold onto me”

Your response was a subtle bite to your lower lip, a silent surrender as you obediently placed your trembling hand on his firm neck, burying your heated countenance in the sanctuary of his shoulder.

“Hm...”

He hoists you up slightly, his firm hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it towards the heat between your thighs. The tip of his arousal brushes against your clit, eliciting a fervent sigh as you inadvertently dig your nails into his muscular back.

“Ready?”

A soft whimper escapes your parted lips as he slowly eases into you, the initial entrance is a searing burn, it burns deliciously as he splits you open.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, the searing sensation reverberating through you as his cock pressed against your cervix with a tantalizing ache. “Relax, let me in.” his whispered command brushed against your nape, his lips trailing kisses as his fingers drew deliberate circles upon your quivering skin.

“It’s... it's too much,” you gasped, the overwhelming fullness causing you to scrabble at his back, your nails digging into flesh as you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes.

“T-too much, ‘Toru, please,” You writhe

“C’mon, You can handle it,” He remained motionless, allowing you the space to acclimate to the invasion, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he urged you to yield.

“Relax, pretty, let me in.” 

Your head swims with a dizzying blend of pleasure as you feel him deep inside you, his hand venturing downward to circle and massage your clit. Gradually, you begin to acclimate And he exhales in pleasure  as he revels in the tight clench of your walls around him, the exquisite sensation coiling through him.

 “Do you feel that?”

“You’re taking it so well,” he groans.

“It fits so perfectly well isn’t it? It’s like you were made for me.” he whispered.

“Alrighty, time to move okay ? Put your back into it.” he gripped your hips firmly, he guides your body to ebb and flow along his dick. 

“Up, down.”

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan as you felt the heat of his rigid cock gliding inside of you . His hips bucked, setting a quickened pace that had your breath hitching in pure ecstasy. Your eyes fluttered shut as each powerful thrust hit that sweet spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru” You whined his name.

 “Pl-please," you gasped, your voice laced with need, as you instinctively dug your nails into his muscular back, raking them down with a delicious sting.

“I need… I need you to… kiss me,” you managed to murmur. 

“You want me in your mouth too, hm?” He teased before pressing his lips against yours, your teeths clashing together.

“Fuckk, that’s it...”

His soft expletive escaped his lips as he reluctantly withdrew from the intoxicating embrace of your mouth. His hands slid down the curves of your waist, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving rhythmically within you.

“Your lips taste like ambrosia,”  he murmured, his words accompanied by the clenching of your inner muscles around him.

Fuck, he was drunk in your sounds, drunk in the way you feel, you were just so heavenly.

“C’mon, cum. I know you want to.” he coaxed, a low moan escaping him as he felt your body shudder in ecstasy, tightening around him as you cum hard.

The sensation of your climax sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his own release building rapidly. His abdominal muscles clenched as he inhaled sharply, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him.

“Fuck.. can I... inside?”  he asked in a whimpery voice, seeking your permission in a breathless whisper. You, lost in a haze of pleasure, simply nodded in acquiescence. With a guttural groan, he emptied himself into you.

Even as he already released, his pace did not falter, fucking you as if you’re his little human fleshlight. His grip on your waist tightened as he deftly shifted your positions, swiftly flipping you over so that you were beneath him.

“Let’s go for another.”

━━𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

Your respiration came in uneven gasps as your tongue lolled delicately from your mouth. Your visage was flushed a deep scarlet and a sheen of perspiration coated your form. Your gaze, though half-lidded with lust, remained trained attentively upon him. Situated backwards upon his lap, your legs were parted widely as he nestled his face against your scapular region. Your hands clung desperately to his  biceps.

One of his hands rested upon the slender column of your throat, while the other rests on your chest, playing with your nipples. His cock thrusts rhythmically into your inner sanctum the tip of his dick kissing your pretty little cervix, coaxing ever more ardent melodies of euphoria from your lips.

His hand slid down your body, a subtle pressure teasing the soft curve of your abdomen as he pressed against the small bulge on her abdomen.

“Haah... Fuck.. you feel me in there pretty? M’ so deep in you.”

He let out a low moan, his grip tightening around your hip as he intensified his rhythm.  

Satoru’s respiration was labored, eyelids weighed down as his lips caressed your shoulders delicately. Crimson marks peppered your skin where his mouth had wandered voraciously. Your back met his chest in a slow slide,  your skin kissing his.

The sound of heavy breathing, moans, and skin slapping against each other vibrated through the room.

Your thighs ached dully and muscles sore from prior exultations.

“mnhh.. ‘Toruu, please,” You mewled, squirming.

“M’ tired already, Please... S’ too much.”

You two have been going on it for some quite time now, how many times did he made you cum again? Was it six times? You can distinctly recall experiencing orgasm twice from his tongue, once from his fingers, and three times from his cock. The sensation of being stretched caused considerable discomfort, even though he took the time to prepare you, it still stung.

“Mnh.. my poor angel is tired, huh?” satoru uttered in a mellifluous tone, tracing the swirling contours of your auricle with the tip of his tongue before affixing an ardent kiss on the pulsing carotid beneath. 

“Don’t worry.” Satoru says.

“I’ll take care of you after this... So, just be a good girl and take it all, okay?”

Satoru had already become enraptured in the way you tasted and sounded, drunk on the melodic chorus of gasps and moans that spilled wantonly from you. Though sobriety had returned to claim his clarity of mind once more, for you intoxication still lingered and he knew it.

He wanted to stop, but how could he? You were squeezin’ and taking him so good and deep, and he just needed this release after the suguru incident after all.

He was having too much fun in splitting you in half after all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHORS NOTE:

I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS SJKSKSJS, fun fact; i’m an asexual virgin. It's so funny writing this HAHHAHAHA, i literally CACKLED when i was writing “pussy, cunt, cock,” AHHSHSHAH MY IMMATURITY COULD NEVER😭 I WOULD KMS IF I EVER ADDED BALLS.💀