#and I mean I find the top and bottoming ridiculous as you know

[nalyra-dreaming]

Oh yes. We‘ve come to the right place.

[fastandcarlos]

The Biggest Tease : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

“Stop right there,” Max called out as soon as he watched you walk down the stairs. Your face told him everything, your plan of mischief etched upon your face, unable to hide it.

You took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting your hand against the top of his leg. With two weeks off, you thought you were finally going to get your boyfriend all to yourself, that was until the seeming third wheel in your relationship got involved. Brad.

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed as Max kept his eyes on you, refusing to acknowledge where your hand was trailing. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s just part of the job of dating a world champion,” he tried his best to joke.

Max almost felt sorry for you as you looked helplessly at him, hoping that somehow, he’d try and bend the rules. Brad was determined to keep Max in peak physical condition during the small break, and although you knew his job meant a lot to Max, you were confident you could find a solution that kept you both happy.

You grabbed the pillow beside you, admitting defeat and holding it close to your body. Max kept his eye on you as you did so, desperately wanting to reach out and give you what you wanted. Was it worth the scolding that he’d get back at headquarters? Probably.

��Max,” you whined, scuffing your feet along the bedroom floor as you found him sat in his gaming chair a few hours later.

“Hi sweetheart,” he hummed, spinning his chair around as he paused his game.

You perched on the end of the bed, folding your arms across your chest with a pout on your face. Straight away Max tapped his lap, inviting you over. You didn’t need to be asked twice as you jumped over, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you in position.

“Playing anything good?” You enquired as you studied his set up in front of you.

“Nothing you’d enjoy,” Max assured you, pressing a gentle kiss against your shoulder. “It’s unlike you to come and take an interest in what I’m playing anyway.”

Your shoulders shrugged as you leant further back against Max’s chest, shuffling in his lap as you made yourself comfortable. As you did so, a faint intake of breath came from behind you, your movement taking Max by surprise.

You slowly turned your bright eyes to meet Max’s, catching his bottom lip being bitten by his teeth. His head shook slowly at you, knowing full well what you were trying to do, as if to tell you that you didn’t even need to bother.

“It’s only a couple more days until race day,” Max tried his best to remind you, but you were beyond waiting any longer. You shifted your body so that your lips could reach his jawline, kissing against it gently.

You were all for supporting Max, encouraging him to the best driver he could be, but your patience had been tested to its limit.

“Babe,” Max sighed as you continued to capture his attention.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” you innocently defended, sniggering to yourself.

“I love you, but we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You quizzed, pulling away from Max so you could see the expression on his face. You could read him like a book, as serious as he wanted to be, his eyes were pleading with you not to stop.

“Are you going to explain this to Brad?”

“You mean am I going to explain to Brad how annoyingly irresistible my boyfriend is? Absolutely,” you chuckled, pressing your hands against Max’s chest.

Max’s head tilted back as you moved one of your hands to brush through his hair, tugging gently at the knots that had formed throughout the day. He soon found himself losing all control, a habit of his whenever you were around.

Soon enough Max’s hands were resting on your waist, refusing to let you move away from him. A smile of satisfaction appeared on your face as you looked at him again, a knowing look on his face.

“I hate what you do to me,” he whispered, secretly loving the way you tried to push all of his buttons.

“Me? What did I do?” You questioned, shuffling slightly again. ���All I wanted to do was come and see what you were up to.”

Max’s eyes rolled as you tried your best to play innocent with him. He pulled you closer towards him, his hot breath tickling just underneath your ear, “two weeks is a long time without sex, right?”

Your head nodded straight away as he whispered, as much as you wanted to try and convince Max that you had full control around him, you didn’t. You were losing your mind; Max was so close and yet so far away.

Max’s hand trailed underneath the shirt that you were wearing, fingertips brushing against your skin. “I’m sorry I ever made you wait for me,” he hummed.

“I can support the diets, the exercise, and even the sleepless nights of different time zones, but sex is wear I draw the line,” you chuckled, hearing Max’s giggles mix in with your own. “Does Brad not realise what an irresistible man you are?”

Max’s eyes rolled as you continued to laugh away to yourself, “maybe you should tell him all about it at the next team briefing?”

“Does this mean that the ban is over?” You asked, a wave of relief washing over you as Max’s head nodded in reply to you.

The look on your face reminded Max exactly why he found it so difficult to control himself around you in the first place, especially after ten days of trying his best to distance himself.

“Brad will forgive me…I’m a desperate man,” Max laughed as he stood up from his chair, holding you tightly in his arms as he headed for your bed.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one whose desperate.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[whorekneecentral]

Sticky Fingers

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad!seb, seb referring to himself as daddy, cheesy flirting, oral (m!receiving), the use of daddy in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding kink, hint to pregnancy kink if you squint, creampie, a touch of cum play, finger sucking, mommy kink but in a joking way.

Word Count: 2,112

Author's Note: would it really be me if I didn't start it off with my favourite dilf on the planet?? happy holidays to everyone who celebrates in whatever way you do and to those of you who don't, I hope you have a wonderful winter season!!

merry smutmas series

--

Your husband spends his first Christmas at home since his retirement and he went a little.. a lot over board. 

It had been a long year; Sebastian had been driving you mad as much as it was nice to have him home. A full year of retirement and Seb was making sure this holiday season was the best one yet.

Last year, after he retired, you had practically already gotten everything together for the holidays. Sebastian helped decorate and do activities with your daughter but this year, he was hands on from day one. He insisted you guys get a real tree as well as decorate the whole house from top to bottom. You couldn't count how many times he had you running to the store to pick up something for him and his newest holiday project.

Your daughter was upstairs in her bed, fast asleep with her messy blonde curls all scattered over the pillow when you checked on her. Sebastian had put her to bed while you had gone to take a shower.

Usually, you'd find him in bed by now or in the living room, finally working on the insanely long list of tv shows Charles had recommended to him over the years.

Tonight was different, the house was quiet and you couldn't seem to spot your husband anywhere as you made your way through the house.

A light peeked out from around the corner, the door to the basement slightly ajar and you pulled it open, slowly making your way downstairs.

You can see Sebastian from behind, the man freezes when he hears the creaking of the stairs. "It's just me," you announced, the man visibly relaxed, turning to smile at you.

"What are you doing down here?" You asked, finally making it down the stairs. "So secretive, are you jerking off?" You jokingly asked, Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Don't need to do that when I have you," he raises his eyebrows and it was your turn to roll your eyes.

"Whatever Seb," you laughed, "seriously, what are you doing down here?"

"Trying to wrap this," Sebastian steps to the side, revealing the massive box that was behind him. On the front was a photo of the doll house your daughter wanted.. the ridiculously expensive dollhouse that is. It's not that you two didn't get your daughter what she wanted but she had to earn it. Just because her father is who he is and the fact that he has money, doesn't mean she should get whatever she wants.

You raise her as a normal kid, not some spoiled brat who gets whatever they want.

You huffed, arms folded over your chest as you looked at your husband. "Sebastian, you didn't."

He glances between you and the dollhouse. "What?"

"Do you know how expensive that is?"

"Yeah duh, I bought it babe." He says as if he was stating the obvious, which he was.

He takes a step towards you, grabbing your arms to unfold them, "listen, I know you don't want me to just buy her whatever she wants but it's Christmas and she did really well on her first term report card, remember ?" Sebastian smiles at you, trying to justify his purchase.

You sigh, nodding. You always gave in, both he and his daughter knew as much.

You reach up, holding his face. "You're the best daddy a girl could ask for."

From the moment the words left your mouth, you could see the gears turning in his head. Sebastian's hands grab your ass, squeezing it when he leans in to give you a kiss. "I know I am," he whispers against your lips and you know he did not mean it in the same way you had said it.

Laughing, you lean back in your husband's arms. "Only you can make that dirty."

The man swings you in the direction of your couch, dropping you down on it before getting on top of you. "I'll show you dirty," he says, kissing you once again.

Your legs wrapped around your husband, holding him against you. Seb's lips are all over you, hands slipping between the two of you, pulling on the hem of his t-shirt until he stops to take it off.

"Don't look at me like that," he teases, pushing your shirt up to kiss down your stomach. "Like what?" You breathe, head tipped back into the cushions.

"Like you want to fuck me."

"I'd give you another baby right now, Sebastian."

The man freezes, looking up at you. There's a wicked smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. Sebastian moves to between your legs, settling there for a minute as he presses kisses along your bare skin, following the trail from your hip, down your thighs to between them.

Your hand tangles in his blonde curls, giving it a tug and pulling him off of you before he can get to what he really wants. The man's brows furrow, looking at you. "Sweetheart," he huffs, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your thighs.

You give him a shove back with your foot, sitting up. Sebastian watches as you move him to sit and you move from the couch to the floor. Seb reaches for the pillow, dropping in front of you so you'd have some sort of cushioning; he knows even though this was your idea, you'd blame him for sore knees tomorrow.

"You're sure?" He asks, watching as your manicured nails tugs on the strings on his sweats. "Absolutely," you say, your eyes fixed on him as your hands rub up his thighs.

Seb watches as you lick your hand, his head tips back and a soft moan slips out when you wrap your hand around him, moving it up and down slowly.

His eyes don't move from you, watching your every move. His lips parted slightly, as if he was going to say something but he can't bring himself to. You lean forward, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other resting on his thigh. Sebastian groans, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when you wrap your lips around him.

"God-" he breathed, his arm hung over the armrest and his head tipped back into the couch.

His eyes flutter shut when you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down. You glance up at your husband; eyes shut, his hand reaching down to tangle in your hair - pulling it into a makeshift ponytail.

You move yourself up a bit, lips still around the tip and your hand quickly replaces where your mouth was. Sebastian finally opens his eyes, looking down at you again just as your tongue swirls around the tip.

His hips involuntarily buck upwards, forcing you down on him a little bit more. "Oh fuc- baby, do that- yeah." He's out of breath when he whispers the words.

That was a reaction only you could get out of him.

It was killing him but he forces himself to pull you up off of him, your hand wraps around his cock, moving it slowly. "What?" You asked, your tongue running across your bottom lip - the sight alone makes his cock twitch in your hand; you smile at the reaction.

"I was gonna cum."

"So? I'm not complaining." You tell him, leaning forward to rest your cheek on his thigh. Sebastian reaches down, his knuckles brushing over your cheek - red and flushed.

You looked so beautiful like this.

Sebastian smiles, "I know but.. what if I wanted to try for one more?"

"One more?" You asked, brows furrowed as you looked up at the man. It takes you a moment, your husband's glance was suggestive, as if you were meant to remember something - "Oh!" You giggled, sitting up straight now. "I mean.. yeah."

"So.." he grabs your arm, carefully pulling you up. "C'mere."

Climbing onto your husband's lap, you straddle him and your hand rests on his shoulder to balance yourself. Seb reaches between the two of you, his wrist brushing against your bare cunt when he goes to line himself up with you.

The slightest touch causes you to lean into him; watching him react to you sucking him off was enough to get you worked up.

"All for me?" He looks at you, kissing along your throat.

You hum, teasing him. "Not like I can say it's for your teammate anymore."

Sebastian smiles, his free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him. Your lips parted, his name slipped from between them. As much as he loved to hear you, he didn't want to wake up the sleeping child upstairs - he kissed you, muffling the sweet sounds coming from you.

You liked to be in control up to a certain point, Seb's hands rested on your hips as you bounced on his lap, setting the pace.

After a moment, Seb's hands begin to wander; this man could never settle, not even during sex. His hands move from your hips to the curve of your spine to the back of your neck, holding a firm grip there. You couldn't exactly move, not that you wanted too, but Sebastian forces you down, gently as always, to kiss you. You bite his bottom lip, giving it a gentle pull when he feels you clench around his cock.

"You're - fuck." he moans, making you giggle.

Your hand rests on his jaw, fingers tapping his stubble covered cheek. "I'm what, daddy?"

"You're evil," he mumbles, his hand on your lower back before he flips the two of you. You end up under him, legs wrapped around his hips.

A hand moves to behind his shoulder, your perfectly red nails dig into his pale skin, the marks you left matched the colour of your nails; very festive, you thought to yourself.

Seb's face is buried into the crook of your neck, kissing down to that one spot he knows drives you crazy. "Seb-" you cut yourself off with a moan when you feel his fingers on your clit.

"What was that?" He taunts, watching as your eyes close, back arched, his chest pressed to yours. His lips travel down to your chest, kissing over your tits and as far as he could go. Your nails dig into him once more, Seb feels you clench around him.

"Seb- I'm gonna, fuck-" you mumble and he hums in response, kissing along your jaw.

"Go on, I'm right here baby. C'mon, be good for me." He whispers, he grabs your hand, pulling it to rest on your lower stomach. "Can you feel that, hm? You'd look so pretty with a baby in you - fuck, drove me crazy last time."

You mumble something he doesn't quite catch but from the look on your face, you were going along with everything.

"Please Seb," your lips are on his, begging him for any and everything."

"Please what, sweetheart?" His eyes find yours, "what do you want? You want me to cum in you?"

"Let me make you a daddy again, Seb."

The man groans, your legs tightening around him. "Fuck, okay," he breathes, cheat heaving when you clench around him once more, the tighten knot in your lower stomach comes undone. You find yourself calling his name; the sound and sight of you was something Sebastian never wanted to forget. He finds himself following shortly after you, dropping down on top of you.

Seb moves off of you, pulling out in the process. A soft whimper slipping past your lips at the loss of fullness. He tsks, smiling to himself. His finger drags along your pussy, he watches how you react to his touch, pushing his finger into you to fuck what's slipping back into you.

Before you realize, his hands moved from between your legs to your lips. "Open," he tells you and you do, the man putting his finger between your lips, letting you suck it clean.

He smiles, watching in approval before you let his finger go with a pop. "Good girl," he whispers, holding your jaw when he kisses you.

Seb shifts the two of you, letting you cuddle into his side. His hand rubs along your side, your leg stretched out over his lap.

"You okay?"

"Perfect," you smile, your hand on his chest.

"Well, when we do get up-" he starts but you cut him off, already knowing where he's going. "I'll help you wrap it." You tell him, making him laugh.

"You're the best mommy a girl could ask for," he says and you make a face, laughing. "Doesn't work that way babe."

"Ew, no - I didn't mean like that, you freak."

"Oh shut up," you shook your head, reaching up to kiss your husband.

--

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[phyrestartr]

Deal With It | Gojo Satoru x M!Reader (TEASER)

CW: Arranged marriage, SELF-HARM (on and off-screen), hurt/comfort, angst, drama, self-loathing, blood and gore, implied depression, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation #NSFW, probably top Gojo, probably bottom reader, maybe switch idk, idek if they'll bang it out tbh lol, angst with a happy ending, reader is a sorcerer, time skips, time progression, relationship development, student era into teacher era Note: I got this request to make a story revolving around Gojo and an arranged marriage to the reader (but bro is in love with Getou sob.gif), and I've been RUMINATING on it for forever. I think I finally have a good idea of who the reader is/what their chemistry is like with Gojo, so I'm happy to post a wee bit of a teaser to motivate myself! Let me know your thoughts---I'm finding that I absolutely love writing for Gojo, so I'm down to write more LOL. He's a very fun, complex character.

Deal With It

“So, you really don’t care what he thinks?” Shoko asked as you lit her cigarette. “Even I think he was kinda harsh.”

You pocketed your lighter and leaned back against the cold stone of the college walls. “He’s got a thing for that black-haired guy.”

“Getou.” 

“Sure.” You shrugged and tried to rub the ache out of your neck as you stared up at the bleak, grey skies. The air reeked of petrichor. Thankfully you’d brought an umbrella that day. 

“And you’re not bothered he’s in love with Getou?” Your friend continued, her cute bobbed haircut swaying with the tilt of her head. She always looked so charming like that, when she was being a mischievous brat while pretending to be anything but. 

“Dunno.” And that was the truth. “He’s not even my type. I’d rather hitch up with someone like you or Nanami. Someone less annoying. Less loud-mouthed.” 

“Ooh, that'll hurt his ego.” Shoko smiled. “Well, guess you'll have to learn to deal with it.”

You took a deep breath and rubbed your face as you nodded. “Yeah.”

–

“Forever is a long time,” You mumbled, leaning your forehead against the cool touch of the window. Rain pittered and pattered, exploding off the glass like trillions of kamikaze planes. It almost birthed some sort of hurt in your chest. Best not to dwell on it, you decided.

“Hah? Are you talking to yourself again like a weirdo?” The one and only Gojo Satoru yowled before kicking you in the rear like a petulant child. “Pft! Figures. Knowing my luck, I would have to get married to a creeper.” 

“Even if you married Getou, you'd still be marrying a creep,” you grumbled, dusting the dirt off your behind. “You need something? Or did you harass me just for the fun of it.” 

You heard Gojo, your fiancé, scoff and shuffle behind you. “I just wanted to remind you to humble yourself! Just because I'm forced to marry you doesn't mean you're accomplished or cool or anything, got it?” 

Being in his presence had you craving a cigarette. “Yeah, got it.” 

“And Suguru's better than you,” he added, aloof voice bowing down beneath hardened, steeled words. “Don't forget that either.” 

You bit down on your cheek to ward away the heat building under your skin, the magma sinking deep into your eyesockets and threatening to pour down your esophagus. The taste of iron washed against your tongue, and you released your flesh from between your molars. Sometimes, you wanted to keep boring down on yourself to see how much you could really take, but a fear of the answer too often made you think twice. 

“This is starting to bore me,” you said, tilting your head as you caught a flicker of red in your rain-muddied reflection. You touched your fingers to your tongue and found translucent red coating the tips. 

“Pah. I was gonna say the same!” You watched his reflection turn away. “Good luck trying to impress me.” 

I'm not interested. You watched him walk away, slouching and with his hands in his pockets like he was emulating some kind of yankii character. He might have fit the bill, if he hadn't had such a ridiculous, brat side to him. Just deal with it. You wiped the red on your uniform with a sigh. Tomorrow's a new day.

--

Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[prettyboykatsuki]

tags for pegging, fem + afab!reader, bottom toji + bisexual toji, sex work, 18+

in my mind... i think toji has probably bottomed before at least once in his life. he's only been with men in that sense though, and even then - given his appearance, he's still more used to topping. shiu joked to him once that women can tell his dick is all he's good for and it makes toji laugh since it's not entirely untrue. he's experiment, had a few freaks who wanted him on bottom and not the other way around.

but when that's the occasion, it's still mostly just some guy trying to get their rocks off. what it feels like to toji is of no importance, not really. it's just something to get their dicks wet and well, whatever. toji can respect that

you probably meet toji in some bar where he's trying to pick up a woman to take him home so he's not out on the streets. he finds you beautiful so he chats you up like always. he's good at it. and you seem a little smug, a little amused but you flirt back. he can tell you've got money so he makes sure to pull out all the stops.

you work something out, but you warn toji that you've got pretty nasty tastes. in his head he's whatever about it. he's done a lot more than most, and all kinds of kinky play both in his personal life and not. he's thinking you want what most business want which is choking or some slapping - something to take the edge off.

that ends up being very far from the truth. you tell him flat what you want to do to him which is fuck him. like... actually fuck him. you show him the collecting of toys and everything. it's nothing he's never done before so he doesn't think anything of it. and admittedly the thought is...weirdly exciting even if it confuses him. it's not like you get anything out of it, right?

still though - he does as told. gets clean in your shower and comes out. you're the same as you were in the bar. maybe softer, really. your way of speech is warmer as you guide him into your bed.

weirdly enough - you're strict. you bind his wrists at the start and only unbind them when you go to fuck him. and you do a lot of the legwork. and it's very different to any other experience he's ever had in his life. it's a little embarrassing, a little shameful - but he's so fucking hard seeing it. such a beautiful woman treating him like that - it's fuckin' embarrassing. it's crazy how good it feels. he doesn't know how you do it, but you do it well and it feels good.

but it's different from every other kind of pleasure. you help get him open on your fingers and you're rubbing a spot that makes his stomach feel like it's burning from the inside. he's panting, drooling in your bed - and you coo at him the entire time like a tamed dog. he can only think to describe it as affectionate and it has a powerful effect on his dick.

you don't touch his dick at all no matter how much he asks. not once after you secure it tight behind him so rings. so he's cumming from the inside for the first time and it's ridiculous.

by the time it's fine for you to fuck him - he's not just going with the flow. he's shamefully eager, shamefully desperate. he's kinda self-aware about the whole matter but his dick hurts and you promise to let him cum at least after. so he wants to get to it as fast as he can.

he's taken stuff in before, knows how it feels - but his insides have never been all that sensitive and they've never been so big. you've been abusing them for the last hour. stretching, touching, rubbing. fucking torture. so when you finally do slip your cock in - it feels like getting a punch to the lungs.

it's so deep. so stupidly deep it makes him go fucking limp in your bed. you put a hand on his stomach when you bottom out and he can feel you from the inside. he cums faster from the inside. it's the stretch and swell and buck of your hips so mean into the fucking spot that makes him spray all over his chest.

you fuck better than he could've guessed. the motion is rhythmic and precise. pretty, sharp nails digging into his hips in missionary before getting him on his knees and taking from behind. you make it clear he's not allowed to touch his dick. treating him like a sleeve for your cock instead of a person.

he knows about stuff like this on the other end, but damn does it feel different this way. and it effects him, makes him drunk in a weird way that a woman as beautiful as you is making him cum so filthy. and he's exposing all that to you with no regard at all.

you're merciless but you give in eventually his dick is practically bursting when you take the ring off and let him cum one time proper - barely a stroke of hands before it spills between your fingers and you wipe it back onto his skin.

"you're fun to play with," is the only thing you say at the end. and he doesn't know if he should laugh or not so he smiles and says.

"wanna play with me again, then?"

he's pleased when you agree. he thinks it'd suck if that was the last time. just once was all it took to get him there. get him hooked

but given how fast you've learned to yank his leash, you probably knew that'd be the case beforehand. he's more than happy to give into you since that's the case.

[minnaci]

POST-SHOW AFTERGLOW

contents: heartsteel!shieda kayn x afab gn!reader (reader's anatomy is described using the words "pussy", "cunt", "clit", and "cervix"), bottom!reader, use of insertive sex toys by reader, kayn walks in on reader masturbating, established relationship, bedsheet banter, fingering, penis-in-vagina sex, cervix mention, light dumbification, creampie, post-coital cockwarming

watching kayn perform live never fails to get you hot and bothered. luckily, kayn is always willing to take responsibility.

or, kayn fucks reader after a heartsteel concert. it's ridiculously good.

there's a wild sort of energy that ebbs and flows around kayn post-show. adrenaline— lightning in a bottle. he's on top of the world. he'd win any fight. he's ready for anything—

his train of thought comes to an abrupt end as he nudges open the door to your bedroom, and immediately, every cell in his body is subsumed by the low-burning embers of arousal.

he is not ready for this.

blankets lay crumpled around your spread legs. you're an angel, every curve caressed by soft light, and your eyes are squeezed shut as you fuck yourself on a thick dildo.

kayn recognizes that toy. it's the one that's the closest to his size and shape. you only use it when you're feeling particularly needy for him, or when you miss him. a soft, tender ache blooms in his chest.

"kayn," you whimper, sugar sweet. you don't seem to have noticed him, lost in your own world of pleasure. "kayn, please, please, i need you, please—"

your voice breaks on a sob, and kayn's mouth goes dry. his fingers curl with the need to take.

"what a nice surprise." kayn's smirk widens into a full, cocky grin when your eyes fly open and you squeak with surprise.

"kayn!" your hands scramble to pull the toy out, and kayn greedily watches as your pretty hole gapes ever so slightly, fluttering around air. another shot of heat, straight to his cock.

"oh, don't stop on my account," kayn says. "i'm just enjoying the show."

your resultant pout creases right between your eyebrows, and he lets loose a laugh, crossing the room in three eager, bounding steps to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. his tongue flickers out, and he licks into your mouth. he loves how you melt in his arms, how you always let him in so easily. you're so perfect for him. he's just about to crawl into bed and show you just how perfect he thinks you are when—

"shower first," you murmur against his lips, as if you hadn't been making a mess of the sheets for hours before he came home.

"but—" kayn knows exactly what you're about to say. he's got "dirty" clothes on, so he can't get on the bed, which is "clean". but can anyone really blame him when you look so tempting, so obscene, that his brain hurts from how hard his cock is?

"kayn—"

"hear me out." he presses a few sweet, pleading kisses to your cheeks, relishing in the way you melt under his easy affection.

"...fine."

"you're so beautiful, baby. look at you all fucked out. do you really expect me to make it a whole shower without jerking off? and if i jerk off, i'll cum, and there won't be anything left in the ol' sacks to fill you with."

you raise an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. damn it. looks like kayn has to bring out the big guns.

"...i'll wash the sheets after we're done," kayn adds. "so they'll be clean again."

"you really want me so bad you'd do laundry for me?" you swoon dramatically— a feat when you're already laying in bed. "is this what it means to be loved?"

"you're a menace," he says. it can't be legal for you to be both cute and devastatingly sexy at the same time. fuck, he loves you so much he swears he'll explode with it. his chest tightens. his fists clench. he can't stand it.

he pounces onto you, heart singing at the elated little yelp you let out as he presses a flurry of kisses to your face.

"i love you," kayn growls, incongruously aggressive for how sweet the words are. his fingers find their way between your thighs, rubbing where you want it the most. he dips inside, just a little, but you tense as if he's shoved all five (and a half!) inches inside of you at once.

"love you— love you too, kayn—"

fuck, he could listen to you saying his name just like that for years, and he'd never go soft.

"relax for me, baby." he stretches you in gentle, practised movements, head spinning as you obey, body going pliant under his covetous hands. you're so perfect for him, already soft and wet from your earlier stint with your toy. your lips find his weak spot— the tender patch of skin right between the junction of his neck and jaw— and he groans, feeling a little insane as you rock back against his fingers, dripping sweet and sticky like warm honey.

"i can't hold back much longer," he says, voice strangled.

"so don't." your breath catches as the tip of his finger brushes against your sweet spot, so he does it again, just to hear you gasp. he could get lost in this, this pleasure of playing your body like the finest of instruments, pulling sound after needy, dripping sound from your pretty mouth.

"kayn— kayn, please, stop teasing, don't hold back, please, i need you—" the sheer desperation in your voice makes kayn's blood sing with pleasure, and he gently removes his fingers from your aching hole, much to your chagrin. you line up the head of his cock with your entrance, shuddering as it pulses a thick glob of pre-cum over your skin. "inside, inside, please—"

-

there's nothing quite like the initial stretch of kayn's cock as he bullies his way inside of you. he's so thick, and the way he's got you folded makes him feel even bigger. your jaw hangs slack, every nerve trembling with anticipation.

the tip of his cock nudges inside, and you both let out twin moans. your cunt is hungry for it. desperate, even— your gaze goes hazy and unfocused as your pussy sucks softly at his tip.

"so fucking good," he groans. "how are you so fucking good every time?"

if you could speak, you'd say that you could ask him the same thing, but any semblance of coherent speech is knocked from the forefront of your mind as he eases deeper into you. every additional inch of his hot, throbbing cock only serves to make your mind go blank with pleasure. your eyes roll back, flutter shut.

"fuuuck, that's it, baby. feels good, doesn't it?" kayn shudders as he bottoms out. the very tip of his cock kisses a spot deep inside, so sensitive that it sends a thrill up your spine. "there it is— there's that weak spot. yeah, let me use it against you, baby. 'm gonna fuck all that resistance right out of your pretty hole..."

he rolls his hips once, twice, giving a few deep, experimental thrusts. true to his word, his cock massages over your sweet spot. you can't fight the onslaught of sensation, and even if you could, you wouldn't want to. it's so, so good— too good to resist, too good to fight. pleasure melts your brain, turning every coherent thought you might have had to gooey bliss.

your jaw hangs slack. your head spins. pleasure curls around your limbs, pulling you to new heights of mindless need.

"yeah, that's right. this is what you needed, isn't it?"

you don’t have to reply— the answer is written in the slight crossing of your eyes, the subtle trembling of your ribcage, the thin line of saliva that drips from the corner of your mouth. heat builds in your core, spreading like fire across your skin, and you let loose a long moan.

“kayn…” you struggle to make eye contact, lucidity slipping through your fingers with every devastating thrust.

“no thinking,” he says. his thumb finds your clit. the added stimulation makes it all too easy to obey. any semblance of logical thought dissipates into hazy pleasure. you wouldn’t be surprised if your brain was leaking straight out of your dripping cunt.

“no thinking,” you repeat dumbly, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. your fucked-out gaze meets his, and he curses under his breath, cock pulsing inside of you. through it all, he continues rubbing those maddening, mind-melting circles on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

heat envelopes you, swallows you whole and digests you, transforming you into a being of need and pleasure. your nerves sing with molten arousal. every touch, every breath, every heartbeat only sends you spiraling further and further into the depths of debauchery.

“that’s it, baby, let me make you feel good, yeah, yeah—” kayn babbles, his hips stuttering out of rhythm. it makes his cock slide in that much deeper, makes his thumb slip just right against the hood of your clit, and— and—

you fall apart on his cock with a wail, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure. it burns through you, sets the stars ablaze behind your eyelids. your sanity shatters as you all but convulse, gorging yourself on decadent sensation.

thick, creamy warmth floods your insides, and you practically purr at the way the tip of kayn’s cock kisses the sensitive mouth of your cervix. he’s still mumbling mindless praises against the soft skin of your neck even as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. his voice takes on an edge of wretched desperation. “so good, so good, it hurts, baby, hurts good, i— i— fuck…”

he collapses over you, sheathing himself balls-deep with a groan. the last dregs of his cum drool from his tip, dribbling over your sensitive walls. your pussy flutters around him in response, hungry for every last drop of him, and he nearly whimpers at the added sensation. pain and pleasure swirl around you in a heady cocktail of hormones as you come down from your highs together.

when kayn kisses you, it feels right— the natural product of the raw desire that connects you. his lips move against yours sweetly, softly, and he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. the afterglow is made for kissing, for heavy petting, for the cooling of sweat and softening of breaths.

"what was that all about?" kayn murmurs in the hazy quiet, pulling you closer to him. you grumble a bit as his soft cock shifts inside of you, threatening to fall out, and he makes a soothing little noise, ignoring the pricks of painful overstimulation and focusing on keeping you nice and warm and full.

"what was what all about?"

"don't play, baby. what had you so needy tonight?"

"...ah." your face heats up, and you bury your nose in his chest. still, it doesn't muffle your next words. "you looked really, really good on stage tonight. i couldn't stop looking at your stupid bulge through your stupid leather pants."

the honestly is unexpected enough to subvert kayn's knee-jerk instinct to be insufferable and smug. he gapes at you. "you're so fucking cute."

“mhm,” you hum in agreement. “and you’re beautiful. so we match.”

there’s a frazzled sort of silence as kayn short-circuits from the praise. for someone who presents with such an inflated ego, his reaction to genuine compliments is nothing short of charming.

"so... the sheets?" you break the silence, only half-joking.

kayn groans. “i’ll wash them tomorrow. let me enjoy this, baby.”

“i’m holding you to it.” you bury your face in his chest, heart melting a bit as his lips brush over the crown of your head. dirty sheets or not, there’s nowhere else you would rather be than here, limbs tangled with his, soaking in your shared pleasure.

tags: @enchantedforest-network @angelshub

[five-bi-five-mind]

omg when halloween comes we’re gonna need a top!jj smut (ofc) where they dress up and r’s outfit is very revealing

they go trick or treating with henry and the rest of the bau, so jj has to keep her hands to herself. eventually henry goes to bed and jj finally gets her hands on r

you’re the person i can see writing this AMAZINGLY

Cute Costume

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4k+

Summary: There are not many good costumes to choose from when you need to buy one last minute. Unfortunately for you, you're stuck with a very revealing one. JJ is loving it, though, and even if you have a party to go to, she's finding it hard to keep her hands to herself.

Warnings: fingering (r receiving); oral (r receiving); edging kinda; top!JJ, bottom!r; clit play; nipple play; praise kink; JJ has a thing for costumes I guess?

A/N: This is a little different from the request. I just kind of ditched the trick-or-treating with Henry idea for a costume party... but anyways I hope you enjoy!

“God, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself as you twisted and turned in front of the mirror. Currently, you were squeezed into a much too short for your liking, Dorothy dress. The way you grimaced at yourself in the mirror as you took in the way the skirt of the dress stopped far too high up your thighs was almost comical. You tried to pull down at the fabric, but it still remained just as short as you suspected. “Oh god,” you groaned again as your eyes made their way to the massive amount of cleavage that was visible with the top of the dress. 

Your eyes turned back to the other pile of outfits still waiting in their packages for you to try on. This was supposed to be the most modest one. Garcia picked out all of them, of course. And there weren’t even a lot to choose from to begin with. Not when Halloween was just a few days away. You hadn’t even planned to dress up, but Garcia decided to throw a last minute costume party and you couldn’t say no. Or, well, more like JJ agreed for you. And even with her party being semi-last minute, your costume planning was even more so. JJ had promised to go with you, but now it’s the day before the party and that still hasn’t happened. Why you thought Penelope would be a good alternative to costume shop with you, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you were seriously regretting that decision now. Apparently, when you said you wanted a cute costume, you two had very different definitions. 

Still in your short, little Dorothy dress, you filed through the other bags of costumes you had yet to try. It seemed like everything else had less fabric— meaning it showed even more skin than you’d like. If you went out to look for more costumes would you even be successful at this point?

“Hey how’s it— oh my gosh!” Penelope peaked her head in the changing room that moment, cutting off her own question the moment she saw you. “That. Is. Adorable!” She opened more of the changing room curtain as she took in your outfit and suddenly you had the urge to cover your whole body.

“Penelope,” you hissed, “all of these costumes show too much skin!”

“Just wait until you have the leggings and the shoes…” she didn’t seem to be listening to your protests. “Oh, and the basket! It’s perfect, you look so cute.”

“No, nope, no.” You shook your head. “This dress is too short. We need to go back out and find something else.” 

“I picked out the best I could find in the time we had,” Penelope pointed out. “So your only option is that one or to try the others.”

You looked back at the other options and thought it over. Part of you wasn’t so sure Penelope really looked for other costumes that fit your one request. There had to be something cuter… but then again the store was really cleared out. If you sent Penelope back out there for a second look she might come back with costumes you hate even more than the untried ones. Do you gamble for something better than this Dorothy costume or do you settle? 

“Did you try the Harley Quinn costume? I think that’s a good one too.” Garcia was now going through all the others she picked for you to try. “Maybe that one is-“ 

“No!” You panicked. That one showed your whole midriff and the shorts seemed shorter than the dress is. Dorothy might be your safest bet after all. “This is fine,” you looked down at your dress and gulped. ���I love the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy is great. It's very…” you gave Penelope a forced smile, “…cute.” 

“Isn’t it?” Penelope beamed at you, obviously proud of her own choices for your costume. “You look great!”

And that’s how you got saddled with a costume you’d never in a million years guess you’d be wearing. Penelope did set you up with all the rest of the accessories. The stockings, the red shoes, even the basket with a small dog plushie that was supposed to resemble Toto. 

Much like when you were in the store’s dressing room, it was a day later and you were now staring at yourself in the mirror with the same look on your face. The grimace was deep. You couldn’t imagine your wife’s whole team seeing you in this outfit and taking you seriously ever again. But then again, you thought about Penelope’s costume choice and you were a little relieved that you wouldn’t be the only one in an outfit you (and most others probably) would categorize as sexy. At least with Penelope’s sexy bunny outfit, she really knew how to wear it. It was perfect for her and she wore it with confidence. You, on the other hand, looked quite nervous and uncomfortable as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Sexy wasn’t really your vibe… especially in a public setting, but there’s a first for everything, right?

“Hey, are you almost ready?” JJ called from somewhere in the house. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer her, not when you were still stuck staring at yourself. Your mind was running through every possible back up plan you could think of, but there was no plan B for a costume change. The only options were excuses to cancel. Maybe you could say Henry was sick? But they probably knew he was with Will this weekend. What if you said you were sick? That wasn’t going to work and you knew it. JJ wouldn’t lie and she seemed like she really wanted to go to the party either way. Could you fake being sick to JJ? Maybe if you made it convincing… That wouldn’t work either. She would see right through you. You were screwed. 

“Hey, is everything—“ She cut herself off when she came to a skidding halt in the middle of the bedroom. “Holy shit.” 

You spun around so fast and your heart felt like it leapt in your throat. When your eyes landed on her, you froze much in the same way.

You had the same reaction that JJ did when you saw each other in costume. She was dressed as Supergirl and you didn’t think there was anything more fitting. Lucky for JJ, she had this costume ready so she didn’t need to shop. She looked so confident in it too, heroic even. There wasn’t a better costume. And it made her fifty times more attractive to you, if that were even possible.

Meanwhile, as JJ took in your short dress and the cleavage popping out from the top of it just right, her pupils were blown. She was practically salivating over how hot she found you in that outfit. Everything, in her opinion, complimented your body perfectly and all she could think about was getting her hands on you. 

It was really unexpected for her, to see that this was the costume you went with. She really didn’t expect for you to agree to something like this, but she knew it was all Garcia’s doing. Thank god for Garcia, JJ thought as she took in the way the dress made your legs look. 

“Wow,” JJ said with a heavy breath. “Look at you.” She suddenly was taking quick strides to where you were still standing frozen. She stopped right in front of you and her eyes dropped to your legs again before slowly dragging back up your body.

“Wow,” she sighed again. “This costume…”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “I know, it’s not really me.” 

“It’s just very unexpected,” JJ said as she reached out and played with the frill at the end of your dress. “But not bad. Definitely not bad.” Her hands were quickly making their way under your dress. There wasn’t much of your thighs that weren’t exposed by the shortness of the costume, but JJ was making quick work to run her hands up what wasn’t shown. 

“Hey- Stop!” You whined as you swatted JJ’s hand away. “It was all they had, okay?”

“Uh huh,” JJ hummed as her hands moved up the backs of your thighs. “It’s so… short.”

“Yeah, well,” you huffed, your hands bracing against JJ’s shoulders as she kept trying to practically grope you. She didn’t seem to care that you were trying your best to keep her from being all over you. “There’s not many options when you go looking for a costume the Friday before Halloween and you still want to look cute.” 

“Cute,” JJ repeated as her hands kept creeping up your dress. You let out a gasp when her hands reached your ass and she squeezed, effectively pulling you completely into her body. “Cute isn’t exactly the word I would go with…” she trailed off as she leaned forward and kissed down your barely covered chest. You bit your lip and tried your best to pretend like this wasn’t having an effect on you, but the way she was groping at you and pressing her body into yours had you blushing. 

“JJ…” you warned as her hands left your ass, only for one to return between your inner thighs. “JJ we have a party to-“ 

You were cut off with another gasp as you felt JJ boldly push your panties to the side with her fingers and press them to your clit. JJ looks up from where her lips were attached to your breast to see the flushed look on your face and the grin she gave you was nothing short of satisfied with herself for eliciting such a response in you. 

Part of you wanted to roll your eyes, but the way JJ quickly began rubbing circles against your clit only made them flutter closed. Your nails dug into JJ’s shoulder as she pressed more firmly to your clit. “You know,” She whispered against the bare skin of the top of your breasts. “I take it back. You do look cute like this.” 

She was being such an ass, but deep down you fucking loved it. Your hips barely moved against her as she kept playing with your clit, but she noticed and smirked even more at your actions. Your nails were digging harder into JJ now as she kept playing with you and you were sure your face was bright red from the way she was quickly working your body up. The fact that you were already so wet was embarrassing, especially when you had to leave at any minute. 

JJ, on the other hand, was enjoying this. The way everything about that costume just made it so easy for her to get hands on you was just another bonus in her mind. She kissed your lips and you immediately melted into her. You could feel her smirking against your lips as you kissed her back, but didn’t even care with how she kept touching you. When she pulled back from the kiss, all too soon, her lips fell yet again to what was exposed of your chest and she trailed them down with kisses and bites that were almost rough enough to leave marks behind. 

“What if we had a quickie before the party?” JJ’s voice was muffled by the way she had her head buried in your chest again. “I want to fuck you in that dress.” 

“JJ!” You finally had the sense to stop her from all that she was doing. “We don’t have time for this!” You pushed at her shoulders now and her fingers stopped. 

“So?” She said, looking up at you with the biggest pout.

“You know how I feel about being late.” You took a step back on shaky legs, trying to regain composure and pretend like the ache between your legs wasn’t tempting you. 

“Come on,” JJ whined. “You can’t tell me you’re good to go to the party now after—“ 

“Yes, we’re going now.” You didn’t want her to finish that sentence. She was going to break your resolve so fast if she kept looking at you like that. And you really did hate being late.

———————————————————

For someone who had such a serious life or death job like JJ, she really could be such a child. The way she sat next to you in the car, pouting the whole way, was ridiculous. You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes every time you looked over at her. She was also sure to let out very loud huffs any time her hand slid up your exposed thighs while you sat and you managed to swat it away. 

You had hoped that once you got to the party, JJ would be distracted enough by other people to stop being fixated on your costume. You were so wrong. If you were talking to someone across the room, you could still feel her eyes on you. Or more specifically, on your legs. Even if she was in a conversation with someone else, she was still frequently trying to check you out. 

When you were near her, she somehow was able to sneak subtle touches or just flat out grab your ass when no one was looking. It had you blushing like crazy, but no one seemed to notice. Lucky for you, you thought. 

All of JJ’s grabbiness did annoy you, but not because she was doing it necessarily. If you told her to completely keep her hands off she absolutely would. No, it was annoying you because it was reminding you of that unsolved ache between your legs that you chose to leave with. The more she touched your thighs, the more you squirmed and then that reaction just fueled JJ even more. It got to the point where you tried your best to stay on one side of the party with other friends while she stayed on the other. But that only worked for a while, as she kept trying to gravitate towards you. 

At one point, she wasn’t paying attention to the path in which she “naturally” tried to move towards you. She took a few steps backwards in your direction, hoping to land next to you, as she kept up the conversation. Only with this attempt, she took too far of a step back and bumped her back into yours. 

“Oh shit!” She exclaimed and you turned quickly to see that her actions had led her to spill her drink all over the front part of her costume. Part of you wanted to say that that was what she got for teasing you so much in public, but you held back. When she looked down at her wet clothes and back up at you she was wearing this helpless puppy kind of expression and you knew what she was going to ask before she even said. 

“Will you help me get cleaned up?” Her eyes didn’t show any ulterior motive. You looked at her for a moment before sighing. 

“Okay,” you gave in. “Come on.” You pulled her to Penelope’s bathroom, effectively missing the victorious grin that JJ had as she followed. 

In the bathroom, you immediately knew where Penelope kept some towels so you went shuffling in the right cabinet for them. Bent down and sifting through your towel options, you were completely unaware of JJ creeping up behind you. That is, until two hands again grabbed your ass. 

“Oh my god!” You jumped up and spun around. “We’re in Penelope’s bathroom!”

“So?” JJ gave you a guilt grin. “You just look so good in that outfit.” She took a few steps closer until there was barely any room between the two of you.

“There’s people outside.” You poked a finger in her chest, trying to talk some sense into her. 

“We can be quick and quiet.”

“You’re all wet,” you pointed out. “You’re going to get me all wet too.”

“That’s the plan,” JJ beamed and you just rolled your eyes at that. 

“You’re insufferable.” You swatted at JJ again, but she didn’t seem deterred. Her eyes were back to being glued to your breasts and the way the corset of the dress pressed them together just right. 

“I need to touch you.” Her voice was low this time and the way she said that wasn’t cocky or whiny or anything other than just hungry. You gulped at this shift and your eyes met JJ’s again. Her pupils were yet again blown and you watched as her eyes dragged from your chest down to your legs. She took another step closer, one of her hands trailing down your body until it reached your legs. Her nails slowly dragged up the exposed skin of your thighs until they reached your dress, but that didn’t stop her. Her nails kept dragging up with the fabric of the dress coming up with them. 

“Let’s get out of here,” you said breathlessly, not really processing that you said it at all. 

“Absolutely,” JJ agreed eagerly, her hand already tugging you out of the bathroom.

———————————————————-

If you thought the drive to the party was bad, this was way worse. JJ’s hand stayed high up on your thigh the whole time you drove and she didn’t miss the way you squirmed under it. Her eyes were also locked on you. The way she looked at you had your heart rate increasing too and, if you were being honest, just this alone was making you wet.

You fully expected JJ to drag you into the house and throw you onto the bed, but to your surprise she walked rather calmly to the door. It was when the door shut behind you that she did finally pounce. “Oh my god!” You yelped as JJ pushed your back against the front door and immediately fell to her knees. Her arms were hooked around your thighs in no time and her face immediately buried between your legs. Before you could even process it, her lips, tongue, and teeth were on your inner thighs and you were scrambling to grasp at something for support. 

You settled for the edges of the door frame as one of JJ’s hands snakes up your thigh and pulled down your panties. Immediately after that you felt her tongue take one long lick of your folds. Your nails dug into the woodwork of the door and you whimpered the second she repeated her actions.

Good thing Henry was at Will’s, you thought as a full blown moan left your lips the second JJ’s tongue met your clit. 

“Fuck,” JJ mumbled against your pussy. “I’ve been dying to taste you all night.” 

“M-mhm,” you mumbled as your eyes fell closed. The way she was lapping at your clit already had caused your thighs to tremble slightly. She was wasting no time in working you up the way you were before leaving for the party. But this time you weren’t going to tell her to stop.

Except, after another minute she did just that. You huffed and looked down, only to see JJ give you yet another smug grin as she peaked her head out from under your dress. 

“Not yet,” she taunted before getting up. Her hand immediately reached for yours and pulled you to the bedroom. You reluctantly followed on shaking legs. When you reached the bedroom, she pushed you down onto the mattress with surprising force. 

You looked back up at her to protest only to stop when you realized she was stripping in front of you. No matter how many times you saw JJ, it never got old and you immediately blushed when she caught you staring.

“You look so fucking hot in that little dress,” JJ praised as she fully undressed. “But I’m going to want to rip it off you now.” She stalked towards the bed until she reached the foot of it. Slowly, almost like a predator hunting its prey, she crawled onto it and over to you. Her hands grabbed at the ends of the dress, pulling it up slowly. Blue eyes never left yours as she pulled the whole dress off you and you let her. With your panties already off and somewhere in the hallway, you were left completely bare now.

JJ tossed the dress somewhere in the room and immediately fell onto you with her lips attaching to yours. “It’s so fucking hard,” she said between kisses, “to keep my hands off you when you look so good.” Her lips pressed harder and harder to yours and soon you had parted your lips for her tongue to invade your mouth.

Arms wrapped around her waist so that you could pull both your bare bodies together. The way she slightly rocked herself into you had a small whine fall from your lips. Her tongue was busy running along your own as her nails yet again dragged down your body until they got to your thighs. She slowly parted your legs even more under her before circling your clit.

This time she only did that for a few seconds before moving her fingers further down to circle your entrance. Her lips left yours and moved back to your chest, only to leave actual marks this time across your breasts. When her teeth clamped down onto one of your nipples and pulled slightly, you hissed. But that hiss quickly turned into a loud gasp as, without warning, JJ entered you with two fingers up to her knuckles. 

“Oh god,” you cried as her fingers didn’t even take a second to set a fast pace. She was putting her whole body behind the way she pulled her fingers out almost completely only to slam them back in. 

“That’s it,” JJ cooed after releasing your nipple. “That’s my good girl.”

“Fuckkkk,” you groaned as she fucked her fingers up into you. She wasn’t wasting any time and it felt like both a blessing and a curse. The rough way she was fucking you wasn’t something you expected or prepared for, but god did it feel so fucking good.

With your arms around her waist, you held her impossibly tighter as both of you practically shook the bed with how hard she was fucking you. You tried to keep up, fucking yourself on her fingers with each time she pumped them back up into you. With the way she had been teasing you all night and how she had played with your clit off and on, you were already getting close.

JJ knew it too and she started to whisper praises in your ear as she curled her fingers inside you. “You’re taking my fingers so well,” she purred. “I need to feel you cum on them, baby.” She pumped her fingers even harder into you and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out. 

“Cum for me,” JJ continued. “Cum all over my fingers.” And you did with a pathetic whine. JJ helped you ride out your orgasm, slowly as you came down from it. 

After a moment, JJ’s body relaxed on top of you and you felt a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Holy fuck.” You let out a breathless chuckle. “All that for some silly costume?”

“You looked really hot in it,” JJ said, grinning down at you. You just rolled your eyes and started to lift your hand to swat at JJ’s shoulder. Only, JJ caught it mid air and pinned it back to the mattress with impressive speed and force. “But we’re not done yet.”

And she really meant that. At some point in the multiple hours of JJ enjoying your body, you had missed a text from Penelope. It seemed you had totally forgotten to say goodbye when you two hurried out of the party. But from her text it seemed like she had a feeling this was how it would go. You just knew you weren’t going to hear the end of it the next time you saw her…

Tags: @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @high--power @finleyfray @natashamaximoff69 @inlovewithemilyprentiss @storiesofsvu @demonicbaby666 @lovelyy-moonlight @jareguiromanoff @dj-bynum3718 @kalixxh

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[kedsandtubesocks]

drive ╏ roll-a-trope fic challenge

Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: An early birthday celebration trip for Joel arrives & you’re excited to tag along… there’s just something you’ve been meaning to tell him about

prompt: #2 - road trip

warnings/tags: no explicit warnings but all my writing is 18+ only so MDNI, no use of y/n, pre-outbreak canon, established relationship, brief pov switch, light gendered language usage, Sarah Miller being the best, thoughts of marriage & children, hidden/surprise pregnancy, fluff & then ending angst (I’m sorry)

word count: 2k

a/n: thank you so much to @burntheedges for putting on this challenge for us, I’m so grateful to be a part of this thanks again Kate! Divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics (thank you & ily) & to you, if you’re reading this - thank you so much ♡

The drive from Austin to Corpus Christi was not one Joel took often, but this time it’s special.

This is first road trip with his girls, you and Sarah. It’s an early birthday week celebration for him. And honestly? He could just be on the road, driving around all day with no destination, and he wouldn’t mind a damn minute.

You by his side, Sarah in the back singing along to the radio - he never thought he’d ever find this slice of heaven before him.

He knew how nervous you were about the trip, knowing this would be another big step in the relationship. But with how effortlessly natural it was seeing you wake up in his bed, help pack the truck, even make breakfast for Sarah… a settling sensation filled his chest like you were always meant to be here, like realizing you were a finishing stitch into Joel’s life.

It’s a perfect early birthday treat he wants to savor forever.

With the windows rolled down, the traces of the morning sunlight illuminating the air, the beat of the radio, and you laughing at something Sarah said, Joel Miller is beyond content. The scenery from the Austin city limits blurs into soft hills that turn into stunning stretches of green. Then the towering palm trees arrive.

The few benefits of the Texas heat is still getting beach days in mid September.

The shimmer of the ocean already in sight perks Sarah up, and Joel beams.

“Dad, we have to go to those beach shops first please.” She urges, then eagerly explains to you the lure of the way too ridiculous tourist trap spots.

“Some even have these huge fake sharks in front you can take pictures with.” Sarah paints the image with brilliant excitement.

You’re glancing back at Sarah, hanging on her every word with graced patience, and Joel thinks his heart might melt out of his ribs.

He’s found something special here with you. He almost feels selfish at how badly he wants to hold onto it tight, never let you go.

As promised, before heading to the shoreline, Joel stops by a tourist shop that has a very large plastic shark wide with its teeth open before the door.

You laugh, twinkling and brilliant seeing it.

“See I told ya!” Sarah laughs happily.

“Oh we gotta take all the pictures with it.” You eagerly suggest and Joel wonders…

If maybe inside he grabs one of those ridiculous sea shell rings and propose to you right here and now.

-

The shop stands coated in a unique type of plastic over coated painted wonder. There’s a painted mural of seagulls flying over a bright pink sky on the wall. Another wall is coated top to bottom in various t-shirts that make you and Sarah giggle. So many wind chimes made of seashells hang from above.

You can’t believe your eyes trying to soak it all in.

“They even have hermit crabs here?” You’re a bit surprised at the rows of take home creatures that crawl around in their containers.

“Yes, ugh I’ve been trying to convince dad to let me get one for years.” Sarah sighs slightly pouting. “But he isn’t a fan.”

“Say it’s his birthday present.” You joke, and Sarah snickers.

You adore Joel’s daughter. Sarah is bright, incredibly clever and sweet, a pure wonder you’re grateful has allowed you into her and her dad’s life.

She even has been secretly telling you what she might be getting Joel for his birthday.

“I think I’m gonna just end up fixing his watch for him. I know he won’t ever do it himself.” She’s a considerate and deeply caring soul. Something she takes after her dad beautifully.

“Well if you need me to cover for you or take you, I can help.” You offer.

Sarah turns to you wearing the kindest smile and thanks you for the offer.

“But I think I got a plan. If it doesn’t work out though, trust me you’re my first alibi.” She nods firm.

“I’m honored, just don’t have me breaking you out of jail just yet.” You grin, and she playfully nudges you.

It’s affectionate. You learned fast the Millers love to tease, love showing their affection with quick wit and deep bonding. You’re grateful to be a part of that now.

Sarah eventually wanders back to Joel. You wonder if she’s really going to try and persuade him to get a hermit crab.

Wandering on your own now, you stumble across more clothing.

Specifically, you find yourself gravitated to the baby clothes section.

The small little onesies with dolphins on them, and the few cute shirts that say my first beach trip, all tug at your heart.

It takes everything in you not to grab one.

But you don’t want to spoil your birthday gift to Joel, not yet. You just found out earlier this week after all.

You just had to wait a little longer. You hope it will be worth it.

Before Joel or Sarah can spot you, you try finding one of the Millers first. Sarah of course chats with one of the cashiers at the hermit crab counter, and you snicker walking towards Joel. He stands surveying the kitschy fish wall decorations.

“I think we’re going to be going home with an extra little crawling critter. Sarah’s persistent.” You smirk.

Joel rolls his eyes.

“She can try all she want, but we ain’t taking a damn crab home.” He drawls out with a classical grumpy Joel pout. “Unless it’s fried.”

You snicker moving to lean against his side while an indescribable affection, a cotton candy delicate sweetness, blooms in you and you haven’t even gotten to the beach yet.

Joel must sense it too. His arms immediately draw you into him more, and he kisses the top of your head.

“Glad we took this road trip.” He mutters soft.

“Me too.” You agree rubbing his back.

“Sarah said we should make it yearly thing.” He adds.

“We should. Good way to celebrate your birthday early.” You fondly say.

He huffs. “Don’t want any crazy celebration I told ya. Just my girls, Tommy, and maybe a cake, that’s all I need.”

“Nothing crazy huh?” You tease soft.

“Baby, haven’t had a crazy birthday since I was twenty and ain’t wanted one since.” He snorts.

Now slight fear tugs at you. Maybe you should tell him your surprise now, or sooner than expected.

“Hey,” Joel’s soft warm hand moves to your face letting his thumb softly rub your jaw. “Y’okay, darlin’?”

You swallow hard, but nod with a smile.

“Yup just ready to get to the beach.” You half lie.

“Me too,” then he leans down closer to your ear. “Can’t wait to see how fuckin’ sexy you’ll be in that swim suit of yours-”

“Joel Miller.” You cry playfully aghast and swat his chest.

Joel rolls his eyes, yet a smile tugs at his lips.

Soon enough Sarah calls out for her dad causing you and him to slowly pull away.

The beach is calling too after all.

-

The rain patters a soft steady melody against the truck. You’re thankful everyone got in a few good hours in the waves, soaking in the nice weather, before the rain drops began. A downfall to Texas weather is its unpredictability.

Sarah sleeps soundly in the back tired out from enjoying the beach.

Sitting in the passengers detached in the cozy warmth of the truck, you even catch your eyes dropping shut every now and then.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. We still got a few hours on the road.” Joel, ever considerate, softly says over the radio.

You decide to maybe just rest for a little bit, settling into the seat more.

“Sorry we didn’t get to spend a full day at the beach.” You mutter, closing your eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, honey,” Joel reassures warm. His hand slides over to squeeze your knee closest to him across the counsel.

“Today was great.” His voice is thick, earnest in the buried emotions waiting for you to sink into. Now opening your eyes again, you glance over to Joel.

The soft stormy lighting coats him dreamy and cozy. His hair is even still fluffed up from the sand and sea, the picture perfect dreamy vacation man or possibly a mythical sea god you’ve luckily caught onto land. He’s incredibly handsome, your Joel.

“Thanks for coming.” He adds above a soft whisper.

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” You reply back just as soft, delicate.

“Of course,” his eyes flicker to you briefly. “Here’s hopin’ to many more trips together.”

Your heart swells, and you wonder if you might just get swept into the current of Joel Miller forever.

“Here’s to more trips together.” You repeat, solidifying his words into your soul.

You hope he’ll be happy with the news you have. You’re still hesitant about it, but right now, simple tender peace envelopes you right now in this moment.

“Love you, Miller. Happy early birthday.” You say half asleep as the exhaustion creeps in.

“Thanks baby, love y’too.” His voice floats in with the rain drops, and it's beautiful.

Your eyes glance out at the misty road blurring before you and how the rain paints the world in a water color soaked dream. Closing your eyes, you decide to get some sleep on this drive.

Maybe you will tell him about your surprise when you get home.

Then Joel’s phone buzzes.

From what you catch, it’s Tommy. Must be something about work because Joel’s voice low takes on his contractor big brother boss tone.

“Yeah, I’ll check it out when I get home.” He sighs annoyed, tired.

Joel’s been so busy this month. You even know how much it took for him to take time for this trip.

A heaviness weighs you down, and a slight edge of guilt follows. Maybe you’ll wait to tell him on his actual birthday. Surprise him with the little longhorn onesie you bought ready to show him and of course Sarah.

In the truck, you simply slip into the cocoon of crystalized peace here. You already dream of another beach trip, the next time maybe with a baby car seat in the back and Sarah happily cooing over her sibling…

And your hand holding Joel’s staring out at the road ahead, hopeful for this new path with him.

-

Sarah’s morning knock jolts you and Joel up wearily out of bed.

“Didn’t know we slept in so late.” Joel mutters, dragging you closer into his sleepy hold.

“Mhm, early birthday sex would do that to ya.” You reply with a grin.

Today’s the day.

“Happy birthday baby.” You whisper adoringly, pressing your lips to his, basking in this moment with him.

“Thanks sweetheart.” His warm sleepy voice drips molten sin, and it’s hard fighting the urge to call into work today and begging Joel to do the same.

The morning is eased, perfectly Joel. Sarah even cooks eggs for everyone and soon enough Tommy joins.

A part of you wants to blurt out your announcement now with all the Millers here, but then contract work again takes over the focus of the conversation. Then the weird news announcement about Jakarta shifted the conversation. But you try not to worry about it.

Today would be a good day.

It’s Joel’s day after all.

As Joel talks to his neighbors, Sarah makes an excuse about forgetting something then drags you off to the side.

“Dad’s gonna forget a cake, I just know it.” She sighs knowingly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pick one up.” You reassure her warm.

She beams warm then hugs you tight.

Normally Joel drives you to work, but now with the mission of picking up the cake, you use the excuse of needing to stay late as to why you take your car.

Joel pouts but gives you a sweet see you later kiss.

Tommy almost seems to know something is up cause he winks knowingly at you.

It’s a soft morning, a rare beautiful day already with Austin traffic being somewhat manageable.

You happily reassure yourself you’ll tell Joel about the baby when you get home from work. You hope to

surprise him with a cake and then the little extra sweet announcement with it.

Still sitting in Austin traffic, the radio again discusses the news of Jakarta now going on lockdown. The somber tone sends a chill up your spine. You simply change the radio to another station.

You let your mind return to that possible dream of the road trips to come, and of the little onesie sitting in your work bag waiting.

Today is going to be a good day. You just know it.

[brittscafe]

May I please request Ichigo x Fem!Reader where she’s afraid to sleep with him due to being ridiculed by previous partners and he comforts her?

of course! <3 This was such a cute little thing to write!! @sacredwarrior88

You and Ichigo have been together for a little over 5 months. Everything is going great, but the two of you haven't slept together yet.

Ichigo Kurosaki is the sweetest boy you know and he would never say anything bad about your body or say mean comments about your performance in bed. You can't help but be anxious about when the time comes...

"Ichigo, wait!" you raise your voice, pressing your hand to chest and pushing against it. Your hand doesn't do much against Ichigo's raw strength, but he pulls back from you.

A knot forms in between his eyebrows as he stares at you with confusion. He's on top of you, trying to undress you, but your body seems to freeze in place.

"What?" he asks.

"We can't," you shake your head in protest. Ichigo cocks an eyebrow and shoots you a look.

"We can't?" Ichigo lets out a tiny confused chuckle.

"I mean...I can't," you sigh out. Ichigo's eyes search your face and he climbs off of you. Concern fills Ichigo's face as you sit up, trying to find your words.

"Do you want to tell me why?" Ichigo asks you with a soft voice, reaching out and grabbing your hand. He gently moves his thumb back and forth on the top of your hand, staring at you with soft eyes.

"What if you don't like it?" you ask, lowering your head with shame.

"What do you mean?" Ichigo asks, shuffling closer to you. You fiddle with your hands for a minute as they grow more sweater, nerves filling your veins.

"What if you don't like the way I'm gonna make you feel? What if I'm not good enough? I do it all wrong and I've never made any of my previous partners feel good, they always said that I was never good enough and no man would ever be satisfied..." your voice slowly trails off and Ichigo's eyes widen.

His heart skips a beat and he rapidly shakes his head, pulling you closer.

"No, baby, no. I'm so sorry that happened to you and I would never ever say those things," Ichigo speaks softly and you furrow your eyebrows.

"Really?" you ask in disbelief and he nods his head.

"Y/n, no matter what you already make me feel good. I cannot imagine how good it's going to feel when we sleep together as long as you're comfortable. That's the only thing that matters to me, I promise. I just want you to be comfortable," Ichigo's voice is like silk, comforting you.

He reaches out and grabs onto your hands, thumbs brushing over the top of your hands. Ichigo smiles warmly as you, eyes scanning over your face.

"Are you sure?" you ask, chewing on your bottom lip. You want to believe Ichigo, but you've been so hurt in the past.

Ichigo tilts his head to the side, eyes gazing into yours with such love and trust. "Yes," he nods his head, reaching his hand up and cupping your cheek.

"You're so beautiful to me and perfect. I love you and I don't mind waiting for you to be comfortable," he reassures you, snaking his hand behind your head and cupping it.

Your eyes fill up with tears, not tears of sadness, but tears of your relief. Your heart is filled with relief and you lean forward, burying your head into his chest.

Ichigo wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly. "There's no need to be afraid, y/n," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

A tiny smile tugs on your face knowing that Ichigo wants you to be comfortable and would never say mean things to you or make you feel uncomfortable in your own body.

"Thank you," you whisper quietly, lifting your head up from his chest and he nods his head. His eyes are soft and lovey as he holds you in his arms.

"There's no need to thank me, baby. Now, let's cuddle and watch a movie."

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/specious

1 : having a false look of truth or genuineness : sophistic specious reasoning 2 : having deceptive attraction or allure 3 obsolete : showy

--

Noam Chomsky: If you look at what's happening, I think it's pretty easy to figure out what's going on. I mean, suppose you are a literary scholar at some elite university. Or, you know, anthropologist or whatever. I mean, if you do your work seriously, that’s fine, you know. But you don’t get any big prizes for it.

On the other hand, you take a look over in the rest of the university and you’ve got these guys in the physics department and the math department and they have all kinds of complicated theories, which of course we can’t understand, but they seem to understand them. And they have, you know, principles and they deduce complicated things from the principles and they do experiments and they find either they work or they don’t work. And that’s really, you know, impressive stuff.

So I want to be like that too. I want to have a theory. In the humanities, you know, literary criticism, anthropology and so on, there’s a field called theory. We’re just like the physicists. They talk incomprehensibly, we can talk incomprehensibly. They have big words, we’ll have big words. They draw, you know, far-reaching conclusions, we’ll draw far-reaching conclusions. We’re just as prestigious as they are.

Now if they say, well look, we’re doing real science and you guys aren’t, that’s white male, sexist, you know, bourgeois or whatever the answer is. How are we any different from them?

==

I worry that when I describe this idiocy as "fraud," people think I'm exaggerating, being hyperbolic or otherwise overstating it.

I'm not. If anything, I'm understating it.

All of this postmodern crap we're dealing with is completely fake. All this ridiculous intersectional jargon is a big grift. All of these domains producing this ridiculous nonsense are bogus and corrupt. All the scholarship they produce is fraudulent. It's fake from top to bottom.

All of it.

These people are cloaking asinine retardation in fancy words to cover up how asinine and retarded this asinine retardation is.

The people producing it are shallow and stupid. Not to mention, envious and spiteful about the status and authority of science. They just use absurd jargon to hide that fact and trick you into thinking it's too deep and profound for you to understand. But when it's decoded into simple English, à la the Tweet summaries above, the retarded, moronic nature becomes obvious.

The response to this kind of ridiculous shit needs to be laughter and derision, not tenure or a tertiary qualification.

We have to get rid of it because it's destroying our societies.

[magicfootballstuff]

Dirty Little Secret - part 2 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 2/?

Read other parts here.

———

It’s strange the way that fate sometimes works.

You’d heard whispers that England would be hosting a mini tournament during the February international window in preparation for the Euros, even heard talk that Germany could be one of the potential opponents, but you didn’t really think much of the rumours at first. 

But not even two weeks after Arsenal’s second defeat to Barcelona and your little makeout session with Leila in a deserted equipment room at the Emirates, a public announcement goes out. England will host the Arnold Clark Cup in February, playing matches against Germany, Canada, and most significantly Spain.

You’ll get to see Leila again.

She messages you with a link to the announcement almost immediately, and it’s nice to know that her first thoughts are also about a reunion with you.

Leila See you soon! Already practising my slide tackles 😜

You smile to yourself and shake your head as you type out a reply.

You I thought we agreed there were better ways to get my attention?

You’re in the Arsenal gym with the rest of the team doing some conditioning exercises before you head out onto the pitch for training. It’s hardly the ideal place to start another flirty text exchange with Leila, but you can’t deny the fact that knowing you’re on her mind is nice.

Leila Like this?

Leila has attached a picture to her message and it’s bordering on obscene. It’s just a mirror selfie but Leila is wearing only a sports bra and a pair of Barcelona shorts that she’s rolled up at the bottom to make her already long legs seem even longer. In the picture she’s sticking out her tongue and throwing a peace sign but it’s her tanned abs that catch your attention.

Sparing a quick glance around to check there’s nobody close enough in the gym to see what’s on the screen of your phone, you zoom in, practically drooling at what you see.

She’s ridiculously attractive. Suddenly you regret not taking things further the other week at the Emirates. 

But at least the announcement of the Arnold Clark Cup means you’ll get to see her again sooner than you realised.

You Yeah, that works 🥵

Leila Your turn 😉

Here in the gym, there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to take your top off and take a tantalising picture for Leila without getting absolutely rinsed by the girls.

You I’m in the gym

You try to make your excuses but Leila’s not letting you get away with it that easily.

Leila Mmm perfect

You definitely want to give Leila something in return, something to tease her and let her know you’re appreciative of the picture she sent that’s now permanently burned onto the inside of your eyelids. You just need a way of doing it that doesn’t alert the rest of your teammates to your new flirtationship.

“I need the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, and nobody pays you much attention as you leave the gym.

Once you’re alone in the bathroom, you remove your training top and take out your phone, before you stand in front of the sink and check out your reflection in the mirror. You try to find a good angle but it just feels awkward and there isn’t really a way to make a picture in a public bathroom sexy. But you tense your abs anyway and take a few photos of your reflection, trying and probably failing to smoulder at the camera.

You scroll through the results. It’s very hard to look at the pictures with anything other than mortifying shame, but you try to be objective. The lighting is unflattering, the toilet cubicles in the background ruin the sexy vibe you want to go for, but hopefully Leila won’t pay attention to that and will just appreciate that you’ve tried.

Before you can send one of the photos, the bathroom door crashes open behind you and Leah walks in, stopping in her tracks when she sees you.

“I was just…” you stutter, scrambling for an excuse to explain why you’re topless in the bathroom when you’re supposed to be in the gym. Improvising a lie, you continue, “My back was itchy so I just thought I’d check to see if I had a rash or something. Can you see anything?”

You turn to expose your back to Leah and you can tell from the reflection of her expression in the mirror that she doesn’t quite buy your excuses, but all she says is, “Looks fine to me.”

“Cool, thanks,” you reply, tugging your turquoise training top back over your head. “See you back out there.”

With your phone in your hand, you leave the bathroom, sending Leila one of the photos you took as you go.

She replies immediately with a single emoji.

Leila 🤤

You have absolutely no idea how you’re going to survive until February.

———

What you didn’t realise is that the Spanish team is also using St George’s Park as their base camp for the tournament. 

You discover this information in the food hall on the first morning of camp. The two squads are mostly kept separate, training on different pitches and sleeping in different accommodation blocks, but some of the communal areas on campus like the cafeteria and the recreational spaces are shared. 

As you go down to breakfast with Ella, who’s staying in the room across the hall from you, half the Spanish squad is already in the dining hall. The two teams seem to have segregated themselves pretty well, the Spaniards occupying one side of the hall while the few Lionesses who are already here have taken up places at tables on the other side.

You join the back of the queue for food and Ella greets the Spanish player in front of you, her Manchester United teammate Ona Batlle, with enthusiasm.

“Hey Ona!”

“Tooney!” Ona says, as both her and one of her Spanish teammates turn around at the sound of Ella’s voice.

And who just happens to be the teammate standing with Ona?

“Hey,” Leila says, a small smile just teasing the corners of her mouth upwards when she sees you.

“Alright,” you greet her, feigning polite indifference, as if you didn’t have your tongue in her mouth and her hands feeling you up under your shirt two months ago after the game at the Emirates. As if you don’t have a couple of borderline racy pictures of her saved on the phone that suddenly feels very heavy in your pocket.

“You two know each other?” Ella asks.

“We played against each other in the Champions League,” you’re quick to explain. “You know, that competition you don’t get to play in because you play for a shit club like United.”

“Hey!” Ella protests.

You grew up about ten minutes away from Ella, a couple of years older than her but moving through similar youth pathways until your journey took you south to Arsenal. She’s a diehard United fan, while your family’s loyalty lies with the blue side of Manchester, and the rivalry is a constant source of entertainment and banter between the two of you. 

It’s also a very easy way to distract Ella from more serious topics. Such as how you know Leila.

“United are not shit,” Ella insists. “Don’t forget who knocked you out of the Conti Cup.”

“Ouch, that one’s still sore,” you say, wincing at the memory of Arsenal’s defeat to Manchester United just a few weeks ago. 

“Well just remember that next time you think about chatting shit about United.”

You pick out some breakfast food from the serving counter and follow Ella to a table where Alessia and Georgia are already sitting. As you drop into an empty seat, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your shorts and you take it out to see that Leila has sent you a message.

Leila You look cute

You glance up, looking for Leila, and realise she’s positioned herself at a table across the room where she’s got a clear line of sight at you. She’s looking at you now, teeth digging into her lower lip as she waits for your reaction.

You look back down at your phone and type out a response.

You Stop looking at me like that

Leila Why?

You’ve completely tuned out the conversation at the table around you, entirely focused on Leila across the room and her messages lighting up your phone.

You Because now I want to kiss you

You watch Leila as she reads your response, and she looks from her phone back up at you, her eyes dark and her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, before she sends her next reply.

Leila Laterrrr

You Is that a promise?

Leila doesn’t reply, but every time you look up as you eat your breakfast, she’s watching you from across the room, and that’s enough of an answer.

Later can’t come soon enough.

———

Worked up from your impromptu morning flirtation with Leila, you channel all your sexual frustration into training. By the end of the morning, you’re exhausted but in a good way, and the reward of getting congratulated on a good session from Sarina as you head in for a shower makes it all worthwhile.

After having some lunch and a brief tactics meeting led by Sarina in preparation for your first game against Canada, the rest of the afternoon is for downtime. You’re slumped in a beanbag in the recreation room, watching Georgia get thrashed by Lucy at some shooting game on the PlayStation, when a small group of Spanish girls enter and make their way to a pool table at the back of the room. Leila is among them and she makes eye contact with you for just a moment as she passes. Her expression doesn’t change, but her gaze lingers for just a fraction of a second too long for it to feel like you’re strangers.

It feels like the air in the room has shifted with Leila’s presence. You can hear the Spanish girls behind you, arguing over something in words you don’t understand as the balls of the pool table clack against each other with every shot, but you can only think of Leila. You’ve spent months dreaming of being in the same country as her, let alone the same room, and the opportunity to actually have time to spend with each other instead of a quick ten minutes in a store cupboard or a flirty exchange of messages has seemed like a luxury you would never have.

Until now.

But you can’t exactly walk over to the pool table, grab Leila by the hand, and drag her to your room upstairs in front of teammates from both sides.

Or can you?

You’re getting restless in your beanbag when footsteps come up behind you and Leila walks past again, this time alone. As she opens the door to leave the room, she lingers, looking back at you and somehow beckoning you with just the look in her eyes. She disappears before anybody else can notice, and you think your self-restraint deserves a commendation because you manage to wait a whole forty-five seconds before you haul yourself out of the beanbag and make excuses that fall on deaf ears as the other girls celebrate Lucy winning yet another round against Georgia.

You slip out of the room almost unnoticed by everybody else to find Leila hanging around outside.

“I found a place,” Leila tells you, as she starts to walk away down the hall.

You chuckle in amusement at the image of Leila sneaking around St George’s Park on a recon mission to find somewhere private for a hookup, and follow just a few paces behind her, keeping enough distance between you so that it doesn’t look like you’re together, though luckily you don’t bump into anyone along the way.

She leads you to the media area of the building, which is thankfully deserted, and eventually pushes open the door to a large room that is used for press conferences, a long table in front of a sponsorship board at the front of the room and rows of chairs set up facing it. Leila turns to look at you, an expectant smile on her face and her arms outstretched.

“This is the place you found?” you ask.

“Uh huh. Look.” Leila walks past you to the door and reaches for the lock, which she twists with a click, before turning her attention back to you. “Now it’s private.”

Locked or not, it’s still a bit of a thrill to know that you could be caught at any moment, but you’ve been thinking about Leila’s lips since you last kissed her two months ago and all the teasing today has only worked you up further. You take a few steps forward, pushing Leila back against the door she’s just locked with a little grunt, your hands coming to rest on her hips.

“And what are we going to do with all this privacy?” you ask.

“I think you know what.”

“Show me,” you instruct Leila.

All you can think as your lips move against each other and your hands tug at clothing is finally.

———

Afterwards, you redress yourselves and try to look presentable - you’d really rather you kept this from your teammates for now and you definitely don’t want to announce it to them by re-entering the recreation room with tousled hair and dishevelled clothing. You pull your top back over your head, then use the front camera of your phone to check that your hair isn’t too messed up.

You glance across at Leila, who is doing the same thing nearby, and feel a fresh wave of attraction towards her as she runs her long fingers through her dark hair.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say.

“We should,” Leila agrees, with a smile.

And you do. It’s difficult, given the fact that you’re both busy with your separate preparations for the first games of the tournament and that there’s also the challenge of sneaking away without anybody noticing, but over the next two days you manage to rendezvous with Leila no fewer than three more times. 

When you’re not with her, you spend most of your time thinking about her - the taste of her lips, the way her hands feel on your body, the look in her eyes when she smiles at you. It’s probably not a good thing to be this distracted by an opponent while at camp but thankfully nobody seems to notice that your mind is wandering, nor that you keep sneaking away to meet Leila when you get downtime.

———

The first games of the Arnold Clark Cup - England versus Canada and Germany against Spain - take place in Middlesbrough. With travel both ways, an overnight stay in a local hotel, and the games themselves, it means you go almost thirty-six hours without seeing Leila.

That’s something that shouldn’t be a problem, but is. 

It’s crazy how in just three short days, most of which have been spent with your respective teams anyway, you’ve become dependent on those secret little meetings with Leila. 

You draw against Canada, playing the last ten minutes of the game off the bench, and if you’re in a bad mood on the bus back to St George’s Park the following morning, your England teammates think it’s just because you’re disappointed with your lack of minutes. 

You let them believe that, even though you know the whole point of this tournament is rotation and that you’ll get your chance to start in another game, and sit quietly with your headphones on and your head leaning against the window. You even try to convince yourself that that’s the problem, because the other alternative is admitting to yourself that you miss a girl you’ve been hooking up with for three days.

And so what if the only thing that puts you in a good mood is a message from Leila that says ‘Want to hang out later?’ that lights up your phone when you’re about thirty minutes away from returning to camp?

At least she misses you too.

———

The day before the game against Spain, you’re asked to do the pre-match press conference with Sarina and Leah. You sit at the front of a room that has become familiar to you over the last five days, being one of the regular spots that you keep returning to when you want some alone time with Leila, only this time it’s with your captain and your coach at your side and two dozen reporters all watching intently as they ask about your preparations for the biggest test England have faced so far under the new management.

“We know that Spain has a very distinct style of football,” Leah says, answering one reporter’s question about the opposition. “In some of our recent games - the World Cup qualifiers - we’ve been used to having a lot of possession and a lot of chances. But Spain likes to have the ball, they like to pass the ball around a lot, and we need to make sure we’re patient but also clinical in taking the chances we do get.”

“You’ll both be familiar with some of your opponents tomorrow from your recent Champions League games with Arsenal, but how do you prepare for coming up against star players like Alexia Putellas?”

Leah nods for you to speak and you give your answer.

“There’s no denying that Spain has a lot of quality all over the pitch,” you say. “They’re a team full of world class players. But these are the opponents we want to be playing against as we prepare for the summer. In order to be the best we need to test ourselves against the best.”

The next question goes to Sarina, and you lean back in your chair again as you listen to her response.

———

Later, you’re back in the press conference room, the door locked and the lights off, as Leila peppers your neck with kisses while her hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt and up your sides.

“You think Spain is the best?” she murmurs against the skin of your neck, her voice a low rumble that sends a shiver of arousal throughout your entire body.

Suddenly it all makes sense. No sooner had Leila got you alone and locked the door, did she steer you towards the table at the front of the room, where she pressed you into the exact spot where you sat a couple of hours earlier to speak to the media.

“You watched my press conference?” you ask, letting out a gasp as her teeth find a sensitive spot. 

Leila confirms with a hum.

“I think Spain is one of the best,” you clarify.

Pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes, Leila smirks and asks, “Do you think I’m the best?”

As she speaks, one of her hands toys with the elastic at the bottom of your sports bra.

“At this, yes. At football, I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

Your teasing seems to be enough to satisfy Leila, who lifts your top over your head and captures your lips in another bruising kiss.

———

The game against Spain the following day finishes goalless. It’s not the result you wanted but the overall performance was good and you know there’ll be lots that Sarina will pick apart and ask you all to learn from the game.

Having been substituted off after around sixty minutes, you push yourself off the bench when the final whistle blows and wander back out onto the pitch. 

You shake hands with a few of the Spanish players and hug your own teammates, before finally going over to Leila, who greets you with a smile and wastes no time asking, “Can I get your shirt?”

“Normally when you want me topless, you take it off yourself,” you tease her, thinking about yesterday’s encounter in the press room as you remove your white England shirt.

She removes her own and whips your leg with it in retaliation for your teasing, before you both swap shirts. It’s cold and rainy and you don’t want to walk around in just your bra so you pull Leila’s jersey on, smoothing out the red fabric.

“Maybe I’ll take it back off you later,” Leila replies, her eyes raking down your body. “You look good wearing my name.”

The look in Leila’s eyes and the slight hint of possessiveness in her voice turns you on more than you’d care to admit.

Your mind is already running at a million miles an hour, playing out fantasies that involve Leila wearing nothing but your England shirt. You briefly wonder if there’s a hidden corner in this stadium, just like the closet you found at the Emirates, where you can show Leila exactly what the vision of her in your jersey is doing to you, but you know it’s an even greater risk here than it was last time.

The fantasies will have to wait for now. 

———

England wins the Arnold Clark Cup after beating Germany and while you’re delighted to get your hands on some silverware and know that it’s a promising sign ahead of the Euros in the summer, there’s a tiny part in the back of your mind that is sad that the international break is coming to an end.

Though you don’t want to admit it, you know that’s probably because of Leila.

You return to St George’s Park for one last night with a medal around your neck. Tomorrow, you go back to London and Arsenal, while Leila will fly back to Spain. Normality will resume and you know it’s unlikely you’ll see Leila again before the Euros at the earliest, when there will be more important things on your mind than hooking up.

But if you only have one more night with Leila, you want to make the most of it. Clearly she does too, because she messages you later that night asking to meet, and you sneak out of your room and down to the communal areas to meet her.

You don’t bother to look for any real privacy, instead taking your time with each other right there in the rec room. Your teammates are all asleep in their beds and now that the tournament is officially over, you don’t really care if you get caught anyway. A twisted part of you actually wants to get caught, wants somebody else to know that at least for these short ten days, Leila has belonged to you and you to her.

But nobody interrupts.

Afterwards, you dress again but instead of returning to your separate rooms, you end up on one of the beanbags together. Your head rests against Leila’s chest, rising and falling with each slow breath she takes, and her fingers play absently with your hair.

It’s perhaps more intimate than all of the actual sex you’ve been having over the last week and a half.

“This has been fun,” you murmur, though your words feel empty compared to the weight of how significant Leila has been to your life in recent days.

“It has,” Leila agrees, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

If the situation was different, if you lived closer together, you might ask Leila out. In all honesty, you haven’t actually talked much, partly due to the language barrier and partly because you’ve just wanted to jump straight to the physical stuff in the limited time you’ve been able to spend together.

Despite that, you’ve clicked with Leila in a way that feels special and you want to get to know her better. How does she take her coffee? Is she a dog person or a cat person? Stupid things like that but also what annoys her, what makes her laugh? What are her fears and ambitions?

Maybe you’ll never know those things.

You doze together on the beanbags, never quite fully drifting off to sleep but much more content in Leila’s arms than you would be if you returned to your empty bed. It’s only when the first glimpse of dawn starts to filter into the room that you reluctantly start to get up to return to your rooms before any of the other players from either team come down. 

You don’t know how to say goodbye so you don’t, parting ways with a silent hug that lasts an eternity but still isn’t long enough. It’s a goodbye that doesn’t quite feel final, but with a huge question mark hanging over when you’ll be able to see Leila again, or even if you’ll get that chance, it does feel like the end of something.

Whatever this has been between you, for now, is over.

[ladyelissarose]

“Kiss it.”

“What?”

“I said kiss it.”

Ghost scrunched his face up at the sound of your whining to the point of almost crying, he then looked down at your extended hand and saw the large, deep cut on your hand. Crimson colored blood trickled down from the top of your hand to your palm, your fingers were also covered in it as well, as it had spread everywhere quickly. That had appeared there after you got your hands through shards of glass from a broken window to reach a device Ghost needed on the other side. He said he could reach it, but you stubbornly didn’t want to see him in pain, (though he told you he had seen worse) but that didn’t mean you wanted him to experience it again. So before he could move to do such you stuck your hand inside. Meaning it was technically your fault for not letting Ghost reach through it with his tactical-gloved hand. As usual, Ghost was just going to scoff it off and walk away,  that’s who he was most of the time anyways. As a Ghost, he was soulless, emotionless and couldn’t give a damn about your carelessness and the consequences of it. But that was until he heard your small sniff, causing him to hold his breath and look at your face. He never heard that sound come out of your lips because of him, it was always either, ‘Yes Sir’- ‘Copy LT’ - ‘Got Your Back’- oh and your famous one, ‘Mind over matter, I don’t mind and you don’t matter’. You were tough and a badass, cussed like a sailor and laughed at the sad parts in films. (And enjoyed telling dark jokes to Soap) So his heart just about busted or slipped a beat, as he confusingly beheld your rosy cheeks, pouty lips, and large crocodile tears beginning to grow in your eyes. Something he’s never seen before.

 ‘oh fuck.’

Slowly your hand began to retract back but it was stopped by a firm grasp to your wrist, keeping it in place. Slowly with fear of pain or rejection your eyes carefully searched Ghost’s, to only find him sending you a small but sweet smile. Your breath hitch at the realization of seeing the bottom half of his face, to which you’ve never seen. An old scar laid across his chapped lips, he had a light stubble, barely covering what looked like old burned scars along his jawline. It was beautiful though, like when a tree stands through fire and still looks uniquely beautiful, with its missing branches, you know, the scars and all.

 “Ehem.”

‘Shit I didn’t mean to stare!’

Ghost caught your staring and you turned beet red at the realization of acting totally ridiculous in his sights, causing you to plead,

“oh sorry-“

*kiss*

‘oh.’

*kissssssssss*

And there Ghost- no Simon, held his lips, lingering the kiss, as if he had magical powers to heal the wound and make it all go away, and deep down, you believed he could. It felt like a heavenly eternity, feeling the warmth of his lips pressed against your hand, knowing when he took and let out every breath as it made the small hairs on your hand stand, and sending an electric spark up your spine. 

*pop!*

*peck*

Simon hummed with satisfaction as he glanced at your hand one last time before looking for your eyes to seek approval. He took what was your look of adoration as maybe you being displeased, he was quick to stutter.

“will- do you.. do you think it’ll heal? I’m sorry-“

Your hand landed over your heart as you cried sympathetically,

“Oh Simon, I’m sure it will. Feels better actually-“

“really?”

“really- oh! My cut left you a mess-“

His hand grabbed yours as you had reached out to use your thumb to swipe off the blood your cut had left on his once, clean lips, but he refused. 

“Leave it... the time blood is ever on my hands- or on me anywhere is when I’ve shed it for my j-job. Let me have this one time to say I’m painted red because I can kiss every drop to make it better. p-please.”

‘Awe goodness..’

“Si.”

Your words came out like a whisper, something light that could be carried away by the wind, but Simon grasped it like it was air, and took it in as he begged,

“can I kiss it again?”

You nodded confidently and witnessed his eyes gleam with relief as you voiced,

“Please... until we’re both healed.”

His brown orbs looked down at you as he very well towered over you, but he didn’t look scary or intimidating, as his eyes held love and faith within as he thought about your words with your hand against his lips once again, one hand was holding your hip tightly. He did this to ground his mind to let him know it was all real. He then opened his lips and promised with hope for the both of you, regardless of how the past betrayed you two, with old scars to prove it... or what fate was like in the future, what and where would new wounds appear...

“We’ll heal.”

[tiniedemon]

HOLD MY GIRL . . . kyle broflovski / reader

genre . . . smut, fluff

hold my girl — george ezra

kyle is a menace, and an asshole, and a terrible liar. you’re exceptionally aware of the last one. he has a few tells — refusal to make eye contact, poking his top lip with his tongue, twisting the few rings on his fingers — that first alerted you he’s hiding something. he’s not subtle, in the slightest. not as he sits with you and with your friends and he seems so anxious he could rip his hair out.

a birthday party is the last place for a breakdown, and you know he knows it, and it’s the only reason he’s keeping it in. he’s a horrid liar. his eyes, just as green and mossy as when you’d met him, continuously dart towards you. ‘no alcohol,’ he’d mumbled before your party. ‘i want you sober tonight.’ telling a grown adult not to drink on their birthday is a cruel thing to do, but you’re never one to complain. if he doesn’t want you drinking, it can only mean he’s planning to fool around later.

you’re growing tired, having just about enough of his nervous leg bouncing and consistent ruffling of his own curls. you slide your hand into his, give it a light squeeze, and if it does anything at all, it makes him somehow more nervous. it’s ridiculous. one touch and you’ve reduced the man to a puddle of anxiety.

“do you wanna leave?” you whisper, leaning toward him on stan’s couch. he hesitates, scans your face, and sighs. a nod shakes the red tendrils framing his vermillion face. you tug him onto his feet, make your rounds of the room. all your friends look at you like they know something you don’t, and now you’re the nervous one, tugging at kyle’s rings the entire way home.

“you seem a bit anxious,” he observes, though his hands are shaking almost as much as his voice. you want to laugh at the pure hilarity of it all. his anxiety rubbed off on you, and now you’re on the verge of losing your shit in the passenger seat, heart pounding out of your chest and eyes refusing to meet his.

“i wasn’t nervous until i realized everyone was keeping a secret,” you hush. he hums, acknowledging you, though doing nothing to curb your sudden onset terror. your apartment building creeps into sight and you feel like you could vomit. whatever’s waiting for you in your shared apartment can’t be good for your mental well-being. it’s your first birthday with kyle as a couple, and you know he’s gone all out like the sweetheart he can be.

“it’s nothing you should be scared for,” he mumbles as he tugs you through the passenger door he’s just opened. you rest your palms against his chest, gaze into his eyes, scanning his visage for any signs that you should be as terrified as you stand now. predictably, you can’t find any around the pure adoration slicing through his forested gaze.

“if you got us a cat, i’m never going to forgive you for hiding it from me,” you finally whisper, standing on your toes to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. he leans into it, chases it when you’ve dropped down to your height. you chuckle at the slight pout finding itself on his freckled lips.

“i didn’t get a cat, unfortunately. landlord says no pets, remember?” he muses as he tugs you towards the entrance to the building. it’s a short rise to the fifth floor, the floor your apartment rests on, and with each number that flashes in the elevator, you can feel your knees grow a little weaker.

kyle’s hands cup your face the second the two of you manage to enter your apartment. he kicks the door shut with his foot, and it’s up to your shaking fingers to secure the double locks. his eyes are all over you, fleeting over your face and your shoulders and your abdomen. the adoration in his eyes is open, intruding, piercing even the most hidden pieces of yourself.

“god, i can’t wait to get you in bed,” he says, breathless, finally tugging you in for the kiss your lips craved. his tongue strokes your bottom lip, joins yours in your mouth, pushes past the barrier of your teeth. you can’t help the whine his throat captures. he pulls back, and he looks at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky, and he devours your body with his gaze.

“so take me there,” you finally bring yourself to whisper, tugging at the collar of his t shirt. the fabric is soft, though not as soft as you know kyle’s fair skin is. you’re desperate to feel it, to drag your teeth along it, to taste it.

“lead the way.” it’s breathless, and depraved, and desperate, and it’s festering a mess between your legs. you take him by the wrist, grip gentle despite the harsh arousal your thighs are smothering. everything is smothering you. the shirt you’ve peeled off on your way to the bedroom, the shoes you’ve kicked off in the hallway, the hair you’ve already pulled away from your neck.

it’s when you enter the bedroom that you discover the cause of all his anxiousness. the bed is draped in rose petals, ever so cliche, and candles are freshly lit along the nightstands. a bottle of vodka rests in the center of your duvet, candlelight glinting off the clear fluid. you could cry. you might, actually. it’s cliche, and sweet, and kyle knows how much you love cliches. he knows how much you hate champagne too, so the vodka is a nice touch.

“kyle.” it escapes your lips in a breathy whimper, a sound you’re quite familiar with at the hands of your boyfriend. he’s practically buzzing behind you, and now in front of you, eyes searching your face and hands searching your shoulders and neck. you tug him in, take his lips in the most passionate kiss you can manage. your fingers are practically clawing as his arms lift you by your thighs, palms taking purchase of your hips, your back falling flat against the soft mattress you’d insisted you needed when you’d moved in. you don’t regret it now, with your legs around kyle’s waist and his lips exploring the span of your neck.

“kyle.” it comes out different now, more choked and desperate. you can feel his arousal against your clothes cunt, the pressure sending goosebumps across your skin. his fingers are there, tugging your pants from your legs, gripping your underwear and pulling so forcefully you’re afraid he might rip them. actually, no, he did. he ripped them. you can’t find it in yourself to be angry, not as the pads of fingers are tracing the folds of your wetness.

“you look so good down there,” he breathes, and you can feel that he means it. the bulge in his pants is present against your inner thigh, pressing into your skin as his fingers press into you. your hand stays stationed in his hair, tugging softly, back arching as he sinks to his knees. it’s a sight you don’t think you could ever be tired of. his curls are just visible over your hips, eyes trained on your face as his tongue tentatively traces the folds he’s buried his fingers in.

he curls them, presses his tongue flat, draws the lewdest sounds from your chest. you feel like you could pass away and be entirely unbothered, as long as you’re passing this way. his tongue massages your clit, his fingers massage the spongy gland buried within you. it’s a sickly sweet ecstasy that brings you closer with every flicker of his tongue and every curl of his fingers.

and even after you’ve came, legs shaking and cries flying from your throat, his long digits never leave the wet cavern of your spasming cunt. his mouth takes yours and you can taste yourself, a distinct flavor switch from the sodas you’d been drinking at the party. it’s hot, and you’re bothered, and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything.

“please, kyle,” you huff, rolling your hips against his plaid trousers. he looms over you, trails molten kisses against the soft skin of your throat. “i need you. please.”

his fingers leave you long enough for his hands to tug off his pants, and then his cock is prodding at your entrance. you tilt your head back with a soft sigh, fingers wrapped around his shoulders, abdomen tightening with the sweet anticipation.

“okay?” he asks, and his eyes are so raw and excited that you can’t do much beside nod. a shared moan passes through the space between you as he sinks in, his mouth swallowing every noise you have to give. it’s sweet, it’s passionate, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

his hips snap against yours, jolting your entire body. it’s a repetitive process, his cock sliding in and out with such precision you question his enjoyment. it takes one look at his face to throw it all away. his eyelids are screwed shut, but you can see his eyes darting around beneath them, and his mouth is dropped open in pure ecstasy. you could cum from just the sight.

“you’re so beautiful,” you utter through incessant moans and whines. he finds it within himself to smile down at you, though it turns to the same pleasured expression as your walls tighten around him. his breaths come in grunts and yours come in whines, increasing in volume as a hand drops to massage his thumb into your aching clit.

“cum for me, dove,” he groans out, cock twitching within you. it’s a short moment of heavy breaths and heavier kisses, and his lips swelling against yours, and a coil tightening in your lower stomach. and then it pops, and your legs are shaking, and you can’t hear the sound of your own cries. your fingernails are digging into his shoulders and it seems that is all it takes to shove him over the edge. his cock slides out, then it’s raining warmth over your thighs and stomach.

“you’re so good, so good,” he whispers as he kisses you, a cool wipe swiping over the mess he’d made. it runs over your sensitive cunt, cleaning away your juices, and his fingers rub your hip the entire time. you tug him in for a real kiss, deep and soft and everything you’ve ever wanted.

you’re sitting back against the headboard when he passes you the open bottle of vodka, your clothes abandoned in the hallway and bedroom, your hair equally as messy as his. you take a swig and let the alcohol swell and meld with the love you hold in your chest.

“happy birthday,” kyle mumbled into your hair, and you can’t help the smile curling your lips.

“it was a very happy birthday,” you respond. he chuckles and you burrow further into his side, absorbing every ounce of adoration he’s willing to give you. and it’s sweet, held in his embrace after he’d just given you the most passionate night of your life. it’s so sweet you can’t help the lovesick tears streaming down your cheeks and the silly giggle you let out.

happy birthday indeed.

[reidmania]

heyyy I saw your fanfic about the mental health and depression things and I would loveeee if you would write one about the reader self harming and Miguel finds out and comforts them🧡 I’ve struggled with self harm and depression and your fics help so much!

JUST HOLD ON

miguel o’hara

summary; miguel’s heart breaks when he finds out what you do to yourself

warnings; mentions of self harm, comfort, swearing, could be very poorly written and im so so so sorry if it is xx

an; thank you for requesting, i want to remind everyone that i am in NO WAY romanticising self harm or mental health problems, i wanted to make this series to help people who dont have somewhere to go or someone to talk to, these are purely just comfort fics

i also want to say, youre not alone, and i know self harm is a coping mechanism for many, myself included, but there is so many other healthy ways to cope and i want everyone to know that if you ever ever ever need anybody to talk to, im always here and i want to do my best to make sure youre all okay.

long sleeves, jumpers, scafs, bandaids, bracelets. you were always wearing one or the other. miguel never asked why, he thought maybe you just found it more comfortable.

the entire time you and miguel had been dating, and in a relationship, it had been the cold seasons of the year, and now with summer coming in quick, you were stressing.

miguel isn’t stupid, he would wonder why you’re wearing a jumper or a long sleeve in ridiculous heat, he would question it, and that set you off in a panic.

it was fine, during the day when miguel was at the HQ doing his spider business, but when he got home, your mind went crazy.

although, to you, you did a good job hiding it.

“im home!” miguel says, your eyes widen as you get off the couch quickly, “one sec!” you reply, running up to your bedroom to get a jumper, quickly throwing on the first one you can find, you go back to meet miguel.

you wrap your arms around him, he does the same, squeezing you tightly. “how was your day?” you ask, as you let go of him, walking to the kitchen to start with dinner.

“not bad.. newbies are always rough” miguel says softly, leaning against the wall in the kitchen. “baby” he says softly.

you hum in response, occupied by cutting vegetables. “why do you have the AC on, while wearing a jumper?” he wasn’t mad, he was genuinely just wondering.

regardless you freak, trying to come up with an explanation, “my top half was cold” you say, shrugging.

miguel laughs, “do you need some help?” he says, leaning off of the wall to come up next to you,

“yes, boil some water”

miguel wasn’t stupid. he knew you better then he knew himself, and he knew your top half was always hotter then your bottom half, you were always wearing pants and rubbing your sleeves over your legs.

so he was confused.

it had been like this for a while now, little things would concern miguel but he didn’t want to bring them up, incase they were nothing.

today was weird though, while you were still asleep, in bed, miguel had to get ready for the day, looking in the laundry for a pair of socks, he finds one of your tshirts.

he ignored it at first, before he saw the red stains along the sleeves, his mind first went to, ‘that time of the month’ but you don’t get that in your arm.

he frowns, confused. deciding to figure it out later.

“lyla, do you know whats up with y/n” he asks softly, trying to stay focused on his work, but concern filled his body.

“what do you mean” she asks back, miguel sighs. “tell a soul, and i will literally end your existence” he says, “okok! just say it”

“i don’t think ive ever seen y/n’s arms”

“you think she doesn’t have arms?”

“no- shut up. like shes always wearing long sleeves, or jumpers, or her wrists are covered in bracelets.”

“oh miguel” lyla frowns. “what- what does that mean”

“obviously i cant be 100% sure, i don’t know personally, but it very much could be her trying to hide something..” she says.

“what?” miguel asks, shaking his head “hide what?”

“this isn’t my place to tell, just talk to her”

when miguel came home that evening, he was even more confused and concerned then he was when he left in the morning. he called out, but didn’t get a response, he hums.

he finds you in the living room, asleep on the couch, he smiles softly before he notices your arm.

no long sleeve, no jumper, no bracelets.

his eyes widen as he looks at the blood stains on your arm, the tissue in your other hand, covered in blood. if it was just one miguel would just assume it was an accident.

but he sees it, all of it, the numerous scas, fresh and old cuts, he can feel his stomach drop. next to the paper he finds a small razor, he picks it up quickly, throwing it out before he comes back, taking a deep breath.

“y/n” he says softly, you were a light sleeper, “mm?” you reply, until something must of clicked in your brain.

you sit up quickly, pulling you arm to your chest, youre pale like you have seen a ghost, miguel is heartbroken.

“come with me” he says softly, you pause for a minute as he starts walking, but when he turns around to you, you stand up and follow him.

into your bedroom, he tells you to sit on the bed, before he goes into the bathroom for a moment. “miguel- im sorry” you finally say.

he doesn’t reply, coming out with a first aid kit, kneeling on the ground in front of you. wiping your arm, so damn gently.

he continues to clean and bandage your arm, without saying anything before he sits next to you on the bed.

you have tears in your ears, and a yuck feeling in your stomach, “come here” miguel says, lifting you onto his lap, facing him, he wraps his arms around you.

“im sorry, miggy”

“don’t apologise baby, you don’t have to feel bad about this okay? you have done nothing wrong”

“i-“

“i want you to know, im here, im going to be here regardless of what happens, okay? this isn’t healthy, baby. but i know its a coping mechanism for you, we just gotta find a healthier one, together yeah?”

“yeah” you say softly, buried in his neck.

“i hate knowing you’ve been hurting yourself baby, someone is hurting my special girl, and i had no idea” he says, looking at you as he moves your hair behind your ear.

you frown, as you look up at him. “no more” you say.

“no more” he agrees.

“i want you to promise me, that if you need me or ever think about doing it again, you will get me straight away, i don’t care whats happening or what im doing, youre my priority, always”

“i love you miggy, i promise”

“i love you too, cmon, lets get you changed then watch allll the rom coms you want” he says, kissing your face.

[that-one-pizza]

DP & Wolverine short fic. Hug?

This takes place on the walk home right after Deadpool invites Wolverine to come live with him. Dp has a genuine request.

Also on Ao3! (/ /) <- Punctuation indicates Dp breaking the fourth wall.

---

Walking out of the neighborhood they had so graciously devastated by their attempts at fighting off a horde of regenerating, smack-talking, red ninjas was gloriously uneventful. The sound of firehoses spraying, the smell of drying blood, and police chatter began to fade as the two heroes departed, heading towards the general direction of Wade's apartment. (/I could so call Dopinder to pick us up, but then I'd miss my chance!/) <- He'll be sure to pop in again just like that.

Deadpool clears his throat, "Hey, uh, Wolvie?"

"Hm?" the man in a hoodie and yellow pants answers, not breaking his stride. Dogpool trots loyally at their heels.

Wade stops, the bottom of his boots scraping the pavement and places his hands together, entwining his own fingers. This causes Logan to halt as well, beginning to wonder what was so important that they had to stop their trek back to the apartment.

"Today's been a lot, obviously. I mean, we've seen other cinematic universes, experienced the joys of the desert, you lost your top and your tits were out for the whole world to see and I know you've been terribly dehydrated for approximately 3 days, thanks Hollywood body standards." He's written in that last bit himself. Great.

"And, as men, we are incredibly emotionally stunted, and you can stab me in the chest for asking this: but I implore you, with the upmost respect, and desperation, along with the incredible willingness to beg for hours and hours the likes of which the reader has never experienced before (/even on Wattpad, you little freaks/)," he takes a breath, "…can I hug you?"

He sounds completely earnest, if a bit pathetic. Logan takes a moment to study the man with brown eyes that seemed to soften as he spoke his request, contemplating whether this was some ridiculous ploy to get overly touchy with him or to spring a sneak attack.

Finding Wade wearing a small hopeful smile, patiently standing with his hands clasped, and quiet as if holding his breath, Logan resigns himself with a sigh. It's been a long, emotional (though, he'll only admit it when he's 10 bottles down and forgets where he is), and painful day of literally saving the universe and he wants nothing more than to crash on Wade's couch. A simple hug between heroic partners wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"If you grab anything, or make inappropriate comments, I'll cut your damn head off," he says, though there's no true venom behind his claim, and lazily opens his arms.

In an instant, Wade closes the gap, eliciting an 'oof' from the other. The merc wraps his arms tightly underneath Logan's and practically nuzzles into his neck.

"Alright, bub. That's enough," Logan pats Wade's back. "C'mon, we gotta--"

He's cut off by Wade making strained noises, clutching him tighter, and attempting to lift the shorter man off the ground.

"Wade."

"…yeah?" He struggles out.

"My bones are made of metal," Logan supplies.

"Doesn't matter!" He tugs, only slightly elevating the other's heels, "I can totally do this! I'm gonna recreate the damn Notebook(TM) scene if it kills me," he readjusts his stance and heaves again. "Oh glorious Ryan Gosling, give me your Kenergy! HYAH!" There's a sharp crack and Wade drops his arms and slumps.

"That was your back, wasn't it?" Logan deadpans.

"I uh-," Wade twists his torso away. "Have no idea what you mean. I'm just taking a bit of a break!" /nice/ his yellow text box supplies. He rights himself with another loud crack, "YEOWCH! Ah, see! Good as-"

He's cut off by two large arms sweeping under his own, tightening around his lower back, and suddenly being lifted off the ground with a yelp.

"Like this?" Logan smirks, tightening his hold, looking up at the merc. That hairy man is a bit of a flirt, after all.

Instinctively, Wade lifts one of his legs at an angle and grabs the other's shoulders for stability, as if he'd need it.

(/Any excuse to grab those honkin' chunks of meat!/) Would you get out of my text and let me narrate it?! (/…yeah go ahead-- Wait! My turn to speaky./)

"Oh, Wolverine! So strong, so heroic!" Deadpool fawns, holding his hand to his own face, mimicking a womanly voice. Adding a slight growl to his voice, he then says, "Come here, my scrumptious Honey Badger," and ducks down quickly in an attempt to catch the other in a kiss.

Just as quickly, Logan reacts by completely releasing his hold and stepping back, allowing Wade to comically fall smack down on his face with an 'ack!'

"We're not doing that, bub," Wolverine grumbles, beginning to walk away.

"Yet!" Deadpool lifts his upper body off the ground, holding up his pointer finger. "There's a 'yet' buried under all those grunts! It's okay, my darling, I'll treat you just as sweetly until we do! And when we do, ohoho boy, sparks will fly!" Logan continues his walk away from the man lying on the pavement. Dogpool takes interest in the dropped man and begins licking at the side of his face. "Fireworks!" Wade finally gets to his feet, in pursuit of his partner, "Balloons! Confetti! It'll be on national news and Chappell Roan will sing at our wedding! It'll be the biggest LGBTQ win the MCU will ever have! I already have the arrangements picked out…"

Deadpool continues his yapping in pursuit of the Wolverine, chasing his dream of finally becoming mainstream official with the metal-clawed Canadian.

(/By the way, I totally coulda lifted him ;P/)

[sleepymaven]

The Bsd "Fyodor is Atsushi's Father" Theory:

My Not-so-Deep, Not-so-Serious Explanation on Why This Could Totally be Canon

Signed: A Sleep-Deprived Idiot

(Spoilers for the Entirety of Bungou Stray Dogs)

So... with Chapter 118 in bsd releasing, I have noticed a lot of Fyodor as Atsushi's father related things popping up and... I'm not mad about.

If anything, I'm happy the theory is getting more attention. People even seem to be taking it as canon fact, even if just jokingly.

Really, I believed the theory was plausible since it first was brought up in the fandom, but I never actually thought it would be canon because that just seemed too crazy. But those were the thoughts of a sweet summer child since the manga has gotten to the point where that might be the least crazy thing possible.

So, here I am at my keyboard yet again, ready to ramble about how, if this does somehow turn out to be canon, this might be actually rather predictable even to those who don't dive deep into the nitty-gritty lore.

Now, I won't ramble on and on endlessly about the book and Atsushi's ambiguous past and how he may be the book or a page from the book and yaddy-yadda. Instead, I'll focus on some key aspects of Atsushi's character design. First off...

His hair.

As I said, this is not all that serious or deep, so take my words with a grain of salt before you start bashing me or something for being ridiculous. You signed up for ridiculous when you started reading past the title.

Anyway, back to Atsushi's hair.

As we almost all know, Atsushi used to have a black streak in his hair that was later removed for unknown reasons, but he also has white hair.

Now, I could jokingly proclaim, "Hehe, biologically impossible Fyodor x Nikolai lovechild," and be done with it, but I am no clown, unlike Nikolai. No, I have a better, probably completely wrong, idea.

Most of us know that Fyodor has a thing for white-haired men.

Exhibit A: Every fucking member of the Decay of Angels

I rest my case.

Also, I feel the need to mention that 3 out of 6 of them have red-ish eyes while the other two have purple-ish/blue eyes. Just pointing out that little tidbit I noticed while finding pics for them.

So, it would make sense for Fyodor to pick and choose which attributes to give to his quote-on-quote "son" when he made him from the book, picking out certain traits he found appealing and pleasing to the eye.

(Also, yes, this could mean that Fyodor could have chose specific attributes that were similar to Nikolai. Boom, lovechild route.)

This could explain certain similarities between the characters who seemingly have no biological connection between one another. Their only connection then only being through Fyodor by just knowing him.

Got all that? Alright, next up...

His eyes.

Now, Atsushi's eyes are rather unique, even for the world of Bungou Stray Dogs. What also sticks out about them is the fact that they are pointed out and focused in from time to time.

Example:

(Fucking gorgeous eyes he has, btw)

To break down the colors of his eyes... While in normal lighting in the anime, they appear to be normally purple and yellow with just a hint of green in it, but under the full moon (as seen here) we can see that his eyes are a light green-yellow at the bottom and purple on the top that fades into blue.

(There are also a few times where his eyes also change while using his ability. Like when they turn almost fully yellow.)

I want to point out the colors of his eyes and the fact that they change due to certain circumstances (i.e: using his ability, being under the full moon), which is clearly not normal in their world seeing as how other ability users don't seem to do that at all.

(Edit here: I actually would like to mention that, in the manga, Nikolai's eyes also change color. The green one sometimes will change to match his normal eye whenever he uncovers it. I saw a theory talking about how it might change depending on whether or not he is lying at the time, which is pretty neat. More Atsushi and Nikolai parallels.)

Now, this might seem like a bit of a stretch just like the rest of this post, but the colors used for his eyes are similar to the eye colors of people Fyodor knows, though they are different shades.

Purple like Fukuchi. Green and blue from Nikolai.

Fyodor's eyes are also a shade of purple, kind of, so... Yeah, that works too, but Fukuchi's shade of eyes are closer to Atsushi's.

Yeah, that's all I can think of now and this is already way too long (if I start talking about Atsushi's mysterious past, I'm going to make this a mile long. Maybe later tho), so I'm ending it here for now.

Alright, bye ya'll.