#and i still don't know what is is exactly

[th3mrskory]

Unspoken Desires

Pairing: fem!Reader x Old Man!Logan

Warning: 18+ MDNI, SMUT,explicit language, coercion (if you squint), oral (male/female receiving), handjob, fingering, unprotected p in v, missionary, doggy style, anal play, creampie.

Summary: Y/N is always the one taking care of everyone, but tonight Logan decides it’s her turn to let go. Rough, tender, and unapologetically intense, he’ll make sure she doesn’t forget who’s in charge—or how good it feels to be taken care of for once.

Word count: 5.6k

A/N: As @coocoocachewgotscrewed so brilliantly put it, 'As the girl that takes care of everyone: SOMEONE TAKE CARE OF ME.' And that’s how this little fic came to life.

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The world had never been kind to her softness. In her youth, she'd learned early that the only way to survive was to take up space, to become a force others couldn't ignore, even if they didn't understand it. She had built walls from the ground up, stone by stone until they formed a fortress no one could breach. She had everything together—mostly. She had to. People depended on her and needed her strength to carry them through the chaos of life, so she did. She carried it all. Always.

But there were moments—quiet moments, when the world was still—when the weight of it all pressed against her chest, relentless. The loneliness in her veins. The unspoken ache buried deep within her ribs.

She never asked for help. She didn't need it. Her hands were too used to giving. And when she laughed, when she made jokes about being single—"Men want to be babied. I don't have time to raise a child."—it was easier to mask the truth. It was easier to hide the hunger that lingered beneath her words. The hunger for something she couldn't name, something too soft to fit into the life she'd built.

It was supposed to be just another day, another task, another moment in the long string of motions she went through without thought. But then she saw him—Logan, standing there with that quiet, raw strength of his. The way he didn't try to impress anyone, didn't need to, because the power in him was as much in his silence as it was in his actions. There was no pretense. No façade.

And she hated that it drew her in. 

She hated how much she wanted him—him, the one man who wouldn't cower in her presence, the one who wouldn't need her to be anything other than exactly what she was.

She noticed him more these days, more than she cared to admit. She tried to bury the thoughts, to ignore the way her heart would quicken whenever he was near, the way her body seemed to ache for something it didn't know how to name.

Logan saw it, though. He always did. The way she wore that strength-like armor. But he'd spent enough time with it to know what armor looked like—he knew what it meant to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and never let anyone see how heavy it was.

He didn't pity her. Hell, he admired her more than anyone he'd ever known. But he saw the cracks. The storm churned behind her eyes. The way she pulled away just when things might have gotten too real, too close. 

She never let anyone in.

But he wasn't afraid of it. Not of her. Not of that ferocity.

And so, on that night, after a thousand little things had piled up until there was no room left for her to breathe, it came out.

Her words were sharp, and cutting, but they were the truth. The raw, jagged truth that she never allowed to be spoken. She was tired of pretending. Tired of holding the world together when no one saw her crumble beneath it.

"What, you think I don't need help? You think I like doing everything myself?" Her voice trembled only slightly, a crack in the fortress that she had so carefully built.

He didn't flinch. Didn't back away. He'd seen that wall before, and he didn't fear it.

He only stepped closer, his presence as solid as the ground beneath them.

"I think you're too damn stubborn to ask for it," he said, his voice low, but the understanding in it was enough to make her heart catch in her throat.

For a moment, the world paused. The storm inside her stilled, and she saw it—really saw it for the first time. He wasn't afraid of her strength. He didn't want to tear it down. He just wanted to be there, beside her, when it all became too much to bear.

He didn't need to fix her. He didn't need to save her.

He just needed to let her be.

Let her lean into him. Let her rest.

Her breath caught as she stepped toward him, her hands trembling, unsure but desperate. For once, she wasn't the one giving. For once, she could be held, could be taken care of. 

Logan's hands were steady, as they always were, but now, they weren't just offering strength. They were offering safety—something she hadn't realized she'd been searching for all along. 

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low, soothing. "You don't have to be strong all the time. You're allowed to let it out." 

The words broke something inside her. Heat prickled behind her eyes, and her chest heaved with the weight of everything she'd kept buried. 

Logan didn't move. He didn't push. He just let her cry, his hand resting firm and comforting on her back, his presence solid as the ground beneath her. 

"Y/N..." His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn't quite place. Gently, his hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears with a tenderness that made her knees weak. 

"You don't have to carry it all, bub. Let me in, just this once." 

Her hands shook as she pressed them to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Grounding her. And when she rubbed her cheek against his palm, the motion instinctive, something inside her gave way. 

Her eyes fell to his lips. The urge to kiss him became impossible to ignore. 

He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead, but then he paused, his gaze locking with hers. 

She couldn't stop herself. She leaned in, kissing him hard, desperate for the release, the comfort, the closeness. It was a kiss that broke everything wide open—a kiss that held the weight of everything they'd both been holding back. 

The kiss deepened, the world narrowing to the warmth of his lips and the solid strength of his hands still cradling her face. She felt the tension in her chest unravel, replaced by a need that clawed at her, desperate and all-consuming.

Logan didn't rush. He never did. His hands slid down, slow and deliberate, tracing over her arms until his fingers wrapped around her wrists. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his breath hot against her lips.

"No walls. No fightin'. Just let me.", he murmured, his voice gravelly and sure, sending a shiver down her spine. The words hit her like a hammer, shattering the last of her defenses. She wasn't used to this, wasn't used to handing over the reins, but with Logan, it felt...safe. Right.

Her pulse thundered as she nodded, the tiniest of movements, but it was enough for him.

Logan's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile before he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands guiding hers up and over her head. Her fingers curled instinctively as he pinned her wrists against the wall behind her, the roughness of the surface contrasting with the gentleness of his touch.

"Just let me make you feel good," he said, his voice low and commanding. She exhaled shakily, her head tilting back as his mouth moved to her neck, teeth scraping lightly against her skin before his tongue soothed the spot. Her body arched into him, her hips pressing forward, seeking more, needing more.

"Logan..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, a plea wrapped in the sound of his name.

He hummed against her throat, one hand still holding her wrists in place while the other traveled down her side, his fingers skimming over the curve of her hip. "That's it," he rumbled. "Let me hear you."

Each touch, each kiss, stripped away the layers she'd built to protect herself. She wasn't in control anymore—not of her body, not of her mind, not of the way she melted beneath him. And for once, she didn't care.

Logan moved with a precision that left her breathless, his hand slipping beneath her shirt, rough fingertips tracing the softness of her skin. He paused just below her ribs, his eyes flicking up to hers.

"Say it, darlin'," he coaxed. "Say you'll let me have you."

Her lips parted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I'm yours."

And that was all it took.

His hands, calloused and strong, gripped her thighs, hoisting her up with an ease that sent a shiver racing down her spine. She gasped, clinging to his shoulders as her body pressed tightly against his.

"Where's your bedroom?" he growled against her ear, his voice low, gravelly, and filled with the kind of raw command that made her knees weak, though she wasn't even standing.

"End of the hall," she whispered, the words trembling out of her as his teeth grazed her earlobe, a low hum rumbling deep in his chest.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise almost too rough to feel soft, and yet it sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

He moved through her place with purposeful strides, each step a reminder of the strength coiled in his body. She felt the steady rhythm of his breathing against her chest, the way his arms tightened around her as if he dared anything or anyone to take her from him.

When they reached her bedroom, Logan kicked the door open without hesitation, the force behind it making it swing back against the wall. The dim light from the hallway framed his silhouette—broad shoulders, wild hair, and eyes that burned as he looked down at her.

The room felt smaller with him in it, his presence overwhelming, and consuming. He didn't glance around, didn't make a single remark. His focus was entirely on her as if the world beyond her didn't exist.

"On the bed," he rasped, his voice cutting through the thick silence.

Before she could even process his words, he was lowering her onto the mattress, her back meeting the cool sheets as his hands lingered, pressing her down as he needed her to stay right where she was.

"Logan—"

"Quiet." The single word was sharp and commanding, and it sent a jolt of heat through her.

His eyes roved over her, dark and smoldering, drinking her in as though he was committing every inch of her to memory. One knee pressed into the mattress beside her, his weight shifting as he leaned closer, his hands bracketing her head.

"Spent your whole damn life holdin' everything together," he muttered his tone a mix of frustration and something darker. "Not tonight. Tonight, you're mine."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out, just a sharp intake of breath as he tilted her chin up with his thumb, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I'm not askin', darlin'." His voice dropped to a growl, sending a shudder down her spine.

Her heart thundered in her chest as his lips claimed hers again, rough and unrelenting, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip just enough to make her gasp. The sound made his grip tighten, his hands sliding down her sides slowly as if savoring the way her body responded to him.

"You don't have to be strong tonight," he murmured against her lips, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. "Let me carry it. Let me carry you."

Her resolve cracked beneath the weight of his words, her body trembling as her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. For once, she didn't fight. She didn't resist.

She just let go.

Logan's eyes never left hers as he straightened, standing tall above her. His hands were steady as he reached for the hem of her shirt. The air between them felt charged, and heavy, like the moment before a storm.

"Arms up," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for hesitation.

She obeyed without a word, raising her arms as he gripped the fabric, his knuckles brushing against her sides. He pulled the shirt up slowly, dragging the material over her skin with a sensuality that made her shiver. The shirt caught for a moment, tangled in her hair, and Logan let out a low chuckle, dark and throaty.

"Relax," he muttered, his voice softer now as he freed her, his fingers lingering against her temple, brushing stray strands away from her face.

The shirt dropped to the floor with a quiet rustle, forgotten the second it left his hand. His gaze roamed over her now-bare skin, unhurried and scorching, like he wanted to memorize every curve, every scar, every inch of her that she'd never let anyone else see.

"You're beautiful," he said, the words rough and quiet as if they weren't meant for her to hear, but they landed with the force of a confession.

Her cheeks burned under his scrutiny, but there was no hiding from him. He stepped closer, his hands moving to the waistband of her jeans. His fingers brushed her skin, calloused and warm, and she bit back a gasp as he popped the button with ease.

"Look at me," he ordered, his tone low but firm.

Her eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made her breath hitch. He was utterly focused as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. Slowly, he slid the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet room.

"Lift your hips," he murmured, his hands curling around the waistband, tugging the denim down with maddening slowness.

She shifted, doing as he asked, and he peeled the jeans away, dragging them down her legs. His fingers brushed her calves, and her ankles before the fabric joined her shirt on the floor. The air felt colder now, her skin hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch.

Logan's eyes raked over her, his expression dark and unreadable. Then he reached out, his hands gripping her ankles, his thumbs running along the delicate bone there. He tugged her toward him, pulling her to the edge of the bed with a strength that made her stomach flip.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growled, his voice ragged, laced with something almost feral.

Her heart raced as he leaned down, his fingers hooking into the thin straps of her bra, sliding them off her shoulders with an aching slowness. The straps fell away, his knuckles grazing her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"You don't need this," he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her collarbone as he reached behind her, unhooking the clasp with a practiced ease.

The bra slipped from her body, and Logan let it fall without a glance, his hands already returning to her, tracing a path down her sides. His palms were warm, rough in the best way, and they left trails of fire wherever they touched.

"Every inch of you," he whispered, his lips ghosting over her skin as his hands slid lower. "Mine."

Her breath hitched, her body arching toward him instinctively, surrendering completely to his touch.

Logan's hands paused at her hips, his fingers slipping under the thin elastic of her panties. His gaze flicked up to hers, holding her there with an intensity that made her pulse thunder in her ears.

She nodded, her voice failing her, but it didn't matter. Logan saw everything he needed in her eyes.

With one smooth motion, he slid the last barrier from her body, baring her completely to him. He stood there for a moment, his gaze raking over her with a hunger that made her shiver.

"Perfect," he muttered, more to himself than to her, before leaning down, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Now let me show you what it means to let go."

Logan knelt between her legs, his hands on her knees, gently parting them as he moved with calm, deliberate intent. She froze for a second, a wave of embarrassment washing over her as she realized she hadn't shaved. Her gaze quickly flicked away, her cheeks flushing with the sudden vulnerability she felt.

But Logan noticed. He looked at her with a reassuring, almost amused smirk, his eyes flickering down her body before meeting hers again.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a thumb along her inner thigh. "I like it just like this."

Her breath hitched at his words, the tension in her body slowly melting under his touch.

He lowered himself slowly, nuzzling his face against her inner thighs, placing soft, teasing kisses along their expanse. His right hand moved to her center, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her sensitive bud. His middle and ring fingers slid over her hole, collecting her wetness, and spreading it across her labia.

"She's drooling for me," he murmured as his fingers slowly began to push inside, allowing her to adjust to the stretch. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her pleasure as his fingers began to pump in and out, each movement deliberate and slow.

His fingers continued their rhythmic motion, working in tandem with his mouth. He moved his tongue over her clit, the tip flicking over the sensitive skin in a slow, teasing rhythm that made her body arch toward him. Her hands fisted the sheets beneath her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the heat of his touch seared into her.

"Logan... please," she gasped, her voice trembling, her hips pressing closer to his face.

Logan didn't stop. His tongue flicked faster now, tracing every curve, every inch of her, his mouth drinking in her arousal. She couldn't stop herself anymore; her back arched as her body responded to him, the tension building within her like a wave. "So good," she moaned, her voice breathy and desperate.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Logan murmured against her skin, his voice rough, thick with desire. He paused for a moment, lifting his head to look up at her. "I can feel you shaking. Let go."

She shuddered under his gaze, the command in his voice stripping away the last of her resistance. Her body wanted to obey, to give herself over completely to the sensations he was creating. "I can't... I need you, Logan," she pleaded, tangling her fingers in his hair, urging him back to her, wordlessly begging for more.

Logan smirked, his hands sliding down her sides, gripping her hips tightly as he pulled her closer to his mouth, continuing the rhythm with even more force, more hunger. Every lick, every flick of his tongue brought her closer to the edge.

He could feel the way her body tightened, the way her breath quickened. And then, without warning, his mouth pressed harder against her clit, his tongue moving with desperate speed as he drove her to the brink. She moaned loudly, her body shuddering as she reached the edge. "Logan... oh god," she cried out, completely surrendering to the pleasure.

As she caught her breath, her body still humming with the lingering sensation of his touch, a quiet yearning stirred within her. She sat up, her eyes locking onto his as she gently took his hand. Without a word, she brought his fingers to her lips, her eyes never leaving his. She traced them with her tongue, sucking them clean, savoring the taste of her arousal, before pulling back just a little.

"Dirty girl…" he said, his left hand cupping her cheek.

"I could be sucking something else", she said seductively.

He looked at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't have to," he murmured, his voice low, steady.

"I want to. Please."

Logan stood up slowly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. There was an intensity in his gaze, an unspoken challenge, and a silent invitation all at once.

She positioned herself on her knees before him. Her movements were deliberate, almost hypnotic, as her hands traced the strong lines of his shoulders, sliding down his chest, and over the hard muscles of his belly.

When her fingers reached his belt, she didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, she unbuckled it, the leather slipping free with an audible click before it fell to the floor. Her hands moved quickly to the button of his dress pants, flicking it open, and she slowly lowered the zipper.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it free from his waistband. Her fingers, delicate yet determined, began to unbutton the shirt, one button at a time. Her gaze never left him, and the way her hands worked with such slow precision sent a wave of heat through his chest. The act was intimate, each button a whispered invitation.

Once the shirt was undone, she moved to the cuffs, gently opening them before pressing a soft kiss to the back of each of his hands. Logan closed his eyes briefly at the touch, the tenderness of it catching him off guard. His thumb stroked the curve of her cheek, the touch affectionate, reverent.

There was something magnetic about the way she undressed him—each movement slow and filled with purpose. Her eyes held a quiet hunger that mirrored his own, a silent language between them that made his pulse quicken.

He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. She didn't waste a moment, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs in one smooth, fluid motion, letting them drop to the floor as he stepped out of the garment.

He stood there, bare in front of her. His body was exposed, but it wasn't the nudity that left him feeling vulnerable. It was the way his body didn't respond like it once had, the slow burn of frustration creeping in.

But that did not deter her. She braced herself on all fours, the movement full of quiet confidence. Leaning in, she began licking and gently sucking at his balls, the heat of her mouth sending a shiver through him. His breath hitched as her right hand took hold of his semi-hard dick, her touch light but teasing, coaxing him to respond. The softness of her lips, the pressure of her hand, stirred something deep inside him, and he could feel himself slowly hardening.

She licked a long stripe from his balls up to his tip, her mouth hot against his skin. The sudden surge of sensation had him grunting low, his hands instinctively finding their way into her hair, fingers curling into her locks as he pulled her closer.

"Fuck," Logan breathed, his voice low and rough, as his grip tightened on her hair, pulling her in deeper, the feeling of her mouth sending waves of heat through him. "Don't stop," he muttered.

Y/N could feel him growing heavier and thick in her mouth. She released his dick with a loud pop and with both hands began pumping it.

At the sight Logan closed his eyes and let his head fall back, the hold on her hair tightening. She took him in her mouth and, hollowing her cheeks, began taking him deeper.

She gagged around him when her nose reached the grey hairs on the base and pulled back coughing, a string of saliva connecting her to his member.

Y/N looked up and smiled mischievously seeing him fully erect.

Logan pushed her onto the bed, his hands firmly pinning her wrists to the mattress as he hovered over her. His eyes locked onto hers.

"You're trouble," he finally muttered, his voice deep and rough.

She smirked, but there was a glint of challenge in her eyes. "You don't seem to mind," she teased, her breath hitching as his gaze darkened with hunger.

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. Without warning, he moved, pinning her down more securely. "No, I don't," he growled, his voice low as he leaned in closer, brushing his lips over her neck.

Her breath quickened as she felt the weight of his body pressing against hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him, and despite herself, she arched up, meeting the intensity of his gaze. He was in control now, his hands steady as he guided her into place.

He took a breath, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "You're going to beg for it," he whispered. His tone was rough, yet there was a subtle edge of something softer, almost possessive. "And I'll make sure you don't forget who's in charge."

She bit her lip, anticipating what he would do next.

Logan smiled darkly and kissed her again, his right hand traveling down her chest and grabbing her right breast, giving it a harsh squeeze.

He positioned himself between her legs, gripping his member at the base as he ran his tip along her sensitive center, teasing her with deliberate strokes from her clit to her entrance. Each motion made her hips twitch, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

Her moans filled the room, "Logan," she said breathlessly.

"Yes?"

She closed her legs around him pulling him closer. Logan laughed at her antics. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned back slightly, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it fall onto her, aiding his movement.

Her moans became desperate, almost broken, her hands clutching at his forearms. "Logan," she whimpered, her voice raw with need. "Please… I need you."

His smirk deepened as he held her gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her squirm beneath him. "I told you, you'd beg" he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Her chest heaved, her lips trembling with the words she couldn't seem to stop. "I'm yours, Logan. Please…"

One large hand moved to her throat, his palm pressing gently against her skin, holding her in place. His thumb traced the line of her jaw as his other hand gripped her thigh, pulling her even closer. "Mine," he growled, his tone possessive, claiming.

The pressure at her throat made her head swim, a strange mix of restraint and trust that sent a bolt of heat through her. She arched into his hold, her body surrendering completely.

"You like this, don't you?" he rasped, his lips brushing against hers but not quite touching. His voice was low and commanding, but there was a glint of something softer beneath it, a promise just out of reach.

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky moan, her hands clutching at his wrist. "Yes," she whispered, desperate and trembling.

His mouth curved into a wicked smirk as his hand shifted, loosening his hold just enough for her to feel the contrast. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, dragging his thumb along the curve of her jaw.

The words lingered in the air, heavy with intent but unspoken in full. His free hand slid down her body, fingers tracing her curves with a deliberateness that made her skin tingle.

She whimpered, her body responding to every calculated movement. "Logan..."

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Stop thinking. Just feel," he whispered, the edge of his voice rough yet grounding. "That's all I want from you tonight."

He shifted between her legs, his hands gripping her hips, lifting her with ease as he positioned himself. The heat of his body pressed against hers, and her heart thudded in her chest, anticipation coiling tightly in her core.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper.

She nodded, her breath hitching as she felt the tip of his member pressing against her entrance. With a slow, fluid motion, he eased himself inside, feeling the resistance of her body disappearing.

Y/N threw her head back, a low moan slipping from her lips as her body adjusted to his length, "Fuck," she breathed, unable to hide the raw need in her voice.

She bit her lip at the feeling of him twitching inside of her. Logan leaned forward, his tongue sliding down the side of her neck. He then moved to her breasts, attaching his mouth to one of her nipples and sucking. He released her nipple.

"Breathe," he whispered, his hand sliding up to rest on her waist, grounding her. "I've got you."

He straightened up, his body towering over hers, and braced his hand on the headboard as he drew his hips back, the feel of his withdrawal sending a shiver through her. She barely had time to adjust before he slammed back into her.

She was trembling beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to keep up with the brutal rhythm he set. Every time he pulled out, every time he pushed back in, the pressure inside her built, and she couldn't help but whimper.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts turning faster, more brutal, as he pushed into her with a hunger that matched the fire in her veins. Her hips moved to meet him, desperate for more, and he responded with a growl of approval, his hands tightening on her hips to anchor her in place as his rhythm grew harder, more punishing.

"Fuck Y/N."

She smiled at him.

"You like that, don't you?" Logan's voice was rough, and dark, as he pulled back slightly, only to push in even harder.

She couldn't stop herself from moaning, the sharpness of the sensation hitting her in waves.

"That's right," Logan growled, his grip on her hips like iron as he rocked into her with force.

Her body responded without thought, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, faster as if she couldn't get enough. The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, mixing with the desperate gasps coming from her lips.

Without warning, he shifted his position, his hands leaving her hips for a moment, only to slip under her and lift her body, pulling her into a new angle. She gasped, the sudden shift throwing her off balance, but Logan's grip on her was firm, and controlling, as he guided her back onto him.

Her back arched instinctively, the new position deepening their connection, and she moaned, her hands reaching for the headboard to brace herself. Logan's thrusts grew slower but deeper, more deliberate now, aimed to bring her right to the brink.

Logan's hand came down hard on her left asscheek jolting Y/N forward.

"Logan…" she gasped, her voice trembling with need.

He could hear it—the desperation in her voice, the way her body was bucking against his. He watched her face, her eyes closed tight, her lips parted in a silent plea for release. He wanted to hear her, wanted to feel her break under him.

He gave one last hard, deep thrust, then paused, letting the sensation build before pulling back almost completely. She whimpered, the loss of movement driving her crazy, and before she could protest, he repositioned again, this time bending her further back, his hands now holding her shoulders down as he ran his member between her asscheeks.

Her breath hitched as she looked back at him, over her shoulder, her eyes filled with raw desire.

Logan didn't wait any longer. He positioned himself behind her, his hands firmly gripping her hips as he pushed into her slowly at first, savoring the tight, intense heat that engulfed him. The change in angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, and she moaned, her hands clutching at the sheets in desperation.

"Fuck," Logan muttered, his voice low and full of grit as he began to move, his thrusts quick and forceful, each one pushing her further into the bed.

She gasped with each hard thrust, the pleasure taking over her senses, her body rocking in time with his. The deeper connection from this position sent waves of bliss coursing through her, and she pressed back into him, her hips meeting his with every thrust.

"Does this feel better?" Logan growled, his hands tightening on her hips, guiding her with raw intensity.

She could barely manage a breathless, "Yes, harder…"

His thrusts grew harder, faster, and relentless, pushing her toward the edge.

She couldn't hold back anymore, "Logan …I'm gonna…"

His strokes grew sloppier as he grabbed her neck, angling her face so he could kiss her.

Y/N's moans filled the room. The mixture of his hard thrusts and the slap of his balls on her ass pushed her over the edge as she began shaking.

Y/N fell forward, her face on the bed and her ass in the air. Logan didn't stop. His hands opened her asscheeks as he watched his thick, veiny member going in and out of her hole, creating a creamy ring at the base of his member.

The new angle allowed Logan to continuously hit her cervix. "Be a good girl, come on my dick."

Her hands fisted the sheets and Logan, with his thumb began circling her other hole. The new stimulation tipped Y/N over the edge as she came hard on his member.

Logan didn't stop. Didn't even slow down as he followed her, his movements like a force of nature, unyielding, as he pushed her through the waves of pleasure, every last inch of her shaking with the force of it.

Her mouth fell open as she felt him stilling and his release spilling inside of her.

"Fuck!", he said, throwing his head back.

He remained still for a moment but then pulled out when he felt his member softening. He sat on his knees admiring their joint releases dripping out of her spent hole.

"Jesus, that's a fucking sight.", his index finger reached collecting the release and pushing it back.

Y/N moaned and fell on her stomach. He removed his fingers and lay next to her.

"Did it help?", he asked playfully.

"Shut up Logan."

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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[writer-freak]

Foreplay | Lads x gn reader

Characters: Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, Xavier and Caleb

Warnings: SMUT foreplay duh, talks of guys going down on you and using their fingers, no specific genitalia mentioned though, still not sure how to write Caleb, english isn't my first language

A/n: So after seeing the trailer for Caleb I needed to write something (even though I don't have a proper grasp of his character yet). I wasn't sure how to write Caleb so I wrote him a little sweeter but maybe I will change my mind about that when he's actually out. <3

Rafayel

When it comes to foreplay, Rafayel is the perfect man. He loves when he has the upper hand, but there’s also his more submissive side that often shines through, like every touch is deliberate, as if he’s worshiping you with his hands and mouth. And while he’s obsessed with going down on you (it’s no secret it’s his favorite) there’s this perfect tension when you take the upper hand.

He can be a tease though, and he’s so good at it it’s almost unfair. He’ll start slow, trailing kisses along your thighs, his lips brushing your skin just enough to leave you aching for more. His teeth graze sensitive spots, pulling soft gasps from you as he watches, completely transfixed by every reaction you give him. He lives for the way you squirm and arch under him, dragging things out until you’re practically begging for him to give in.

But when you flip the script? That’s when Rafayel’s sub side shines through. He’ll let you take the lead, let you tease him, his breath hitching as your touch makes him falter. He tries to hold back, biting his lip as you test his limits, but when you push him too far, the control he clings to tends to snap. His hands grip your thighs, and his mouth moves like he’s starving, lips and tongue working you over like you’re the only thing he needs to live.

And then his fingers join in, they curl just right, dragging you higher and higher as his mouth continues. Every gasp or moan of his name drives him wild, and he smiles with pure satisfaction, like he knows exactly how good he’s making you feel. And the truth is? He does.

Sylus

Sylus is such a tease, it’s basically his default setting. He’s playful, always grinning like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it, and he lives for that moment when you finally do. For him, foreplay isn’t just a warm-up, it’s the main event. He’s patient, too languid, deliberate touches that seem almost lazy until you realize every single one is perfectly aimed to drive you wild.

He’ll start light, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he traces over your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you. And the way he circles around your most sensitive spots without quite giving you what you want? Maddening. He eats it up, watching the way your body reacts, testing what makes you shudder or gasp, like he’s studying you and enjoying the hell out of it.

His voice is part of the whole act, too. It’s low and smooth, wrapping around you as he leans in close, whispering filthy promises and details about exactly what he’s going to do next, his breath warm against your ear, sending chills down your spine.

When he finally decides to really go for it, it’s a total game-changer. His fingers plunge deep, curling just right, stroking that spot that makes you forget how to breathe. And he stays right there with you, lips brushing yours, swallowing every moan and gasp like he can’t get enough of the sounds you make. Sylus isn’t just about getting you off, it’s the way he unravels you, slowly, that he seems to love the most.

Zayne

Zayne is more about the slow burn, the build-up that makes every second feel electric. He loves the tension, the way your breathing shifts, the hunger that builds between you. For him, foreplay is a lot of kissing and touching, his hands are everywhere, mapping you out as his mouth claims yours like it’s the only thing that matters.

He’s deliberate, maddeningly so, his touch slow and sensual as he explores every inch of you. His fingers trace over your curves, his lips following close behind, leaving heat in their wake. And when he starts to stretch you open, his gaze locks on yours, watching every shiver and arch like it’s his favorite show. He drinks in the way your body reacts, and there’s this silent intensity to him, like he’s completely focused on you, on making sure you feel every ounce of pleasure he’s giving you.

Zayne knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s relentless about it. One second, he’s teasing you with featherlight touches that leave you squirming, and the next, his fingers are deep, stroking you in a way that makes your mind go blank. He knows how to keep you teetering on the edge, gasping for air, your body begging for release even if you’re too wrecked to say the actual words.

The best part for him? Knowing he’s the one unraveling you. He doesn’t just want you to fall apart, he wants to watch, feel it, be the reason you lose control over and over again. And when you do, there’s this satisfied look in his eyes, like he’s just claimed another victory.

Xavier

Xavier is the kind of guy who makes foreplay almost feel like an art form. He’s focused, deliberate, and painfully thorough in all the best ways. He loves taking his time, starting slow as he lavishes attention on every inch of you, leaving no spot untouched. His touch is precise, his kisses soft and lingering, like he’s savoring every moment and determined to make it last.

His favorite? Using his mouth on you. At first, he’s unhurried, his tongue and fingers moving together in perfect rhythm, his control almost annoying as he builds your pleasure in slow waves. He watches every reaction, focused on every little shiver, every soft gasp, like he’s reading your mind and knows exactly what you need before you do.

But then there is a shift. The way your body responds, the way you gasp his name, the way your hips buck against him, it does something to him. Sweet and controlled turns hungry and desperate, his focus crumbling as he gives in to the way you’re turning him on. His grip tightens, his movements grow faster, more insistent, like he can’t hold back anymore.

He’s relentless now, his tongue and fingers working you over with an intensity that leaves you trembling, his soft groans muffled against your skin as if he’s as wrecked by this as you are. The connection between you is electric, and he’s completely lost in it, completely driven by the way you fall apart under him.

And when you’re left spent and shaking, Xavier looks at you with this mix of pride and satisfaction, his own breathing ragged. There’s nothing cocky about it, just this certainty that he’s not finished with you.

Caleb

Caleb our newest guy has that mix of curiosity and raw hunger that he brings. There’s this energy about him, like he’s as fascinated by how your body reacts as he is turning you on. He loves using his mouth, taking his time to explore every inch of you like he’s discovering something new. But his favorite? Teasing you until you’re begging for him to take control.

He starts slow, his hands barely brushing your skin, just enough to make you shiver and squirm, desperate for more. His kisses follow the same rhythm, soft and teasing at first, but then they deepen, turning hungrier with each one. He’ll find those sensitive spots and graze them with his teeth, loving the way it pulls those sharp little gasps from your lips.

And when his fingers finally slide between your thighs? It’s game over. Caleb doesn’t hold back, his touch relentless as he builds you up, orgasm after orgasm, until you’re a complete wreck beneath him. He’s close, always close, his lips brushing your neck, nipping at your skin just enough to leave a mark, his voice low and rough in your ear. “I want to hear you fall apart for me,” he murmurs, and the way he says it makes your whole body respond, like you couldn’t deny him even if you wanted to.

For Caleb, it’s about learning every inch of you, watching you lose yourself under his touch, and knowing he’s the one who got you there.

Divider by: @anitalenia

Hope you enjoyed <3

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [part 2 of this][mdni][mlw][aged up][arranged marriage][friends to lovers][fingering][clit play][mating press][doggy style][cervix kissing][implied cum eating][premature ejaculation][squirting?]

You barely stir when Damian's sleepy, weary form returns at 4AM, slipping into the comfortable spot between your arms and his face nestles into the curve of his neck.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him, the warmth from his body is basically non-existent, your nipples pebbling at the coldness of his frosty skin pressed against your warm, soft flesh and you mumble sleepily.

"Always knew you were a snake."

Damian lets out an exhausted huff of a laugh, fingers sinking into the hair at the nape of your neck, scratching at your roots with blunt fingernails and calloused fingertips before his lips brush against your pulse. Pressing his lips against the curve of your neck, he takes a sharp breath through his nose before sitting up the tiniest bit.

Your eyes are still closed.

Lashes flutter with the bare minimum of coherence, pouty lips pressed into that sleepy, almost imperceptible frown that you've always slept with. Such an angry sleeper, and Damian finds his thumb brushing across the plump flesh of your bottom lip, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he murmurs low, almost to himself.

"I'm not gonna shower."

All Damian's interested in, is being in your company. Whether you're asleep or not, and icy fingertips trace down the curve of your spine, and Damian watches your frown deepen as you move away from his icy grasp, instead, pressing against his already warmed torso.

Thank God for thick covers.

"Feels like you fingered a snowman."

Damian lets out a laugh at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stares down at you, and he raises one of his hands to his lips, fingertips pressing against the flesh to check the temperature for himself and he winces.

"I might have." He mumbles, before moving closer to you, his face returning to the warmth of your neck and your hand travels to the back of his neck without a second thought.

"How was patrol?" You murmur quietly, the slightest of slurs to your speech and Damian just lets out a deep sigh.

A low, almost petulant sound with a warm breath. Internally, it's to see if you'll understand exactly what he means by that, but also, it's an inherent response.

And you let out a sleepy snort.

"Waynes don't kill, Damian." You murmur. "It's not the Batman way."

"I know." Damian mumbles before his brows knit the tiniest bit, his pearly teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he thinks.

You have the Al Ghul surname, and he wonders if he should bring it up.

"Beloved, your surname..." Damian hums quietly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along the dip of your waist, his free hand tangled in your hair.

"I'm keeping it." You announce. "Al Ghul has... Gravitas. It's sexy and like...— Wayne?" You repeat the surname, a snort of laughter to your lips as your nails scratch against the nape of his neck.

The two of you are shrouded in thick covers and a lack of light, a thundering storm outside the brick walls of the manor, rain pouring and washing away the filth left behind by the criminals.

The fresh scent clings to the air, accompanied by a nose-burning frost.

"Mrs Al Ghul." Damian murmurs, enjoying the familiarity of calling you that.

When you were younger, he'd call you that to tease you on the fact that you'd taken his surname. A boast, in his own way. You'd become an extension of him.

His heart, undoubtedly.

"Mr Wayne." You repeat quietly and it just... It makes an unpleasant itch in his name that you don't have the same surname anymore. And he chuffs, hands moving to grasp your hips firmly, thumbs brushing along the protruding bones before pressing a long, lingering kiss to your pulse, which slowly becomes more erratic the longer his lips remain.

"No, beloved. I'm going to be Al Ghul tonight."

And Al Ghul, he is.

After a 30 minute shower, Damian steps out of the en suite smelling like a mixture of spices and musk.

A unique mixture of his that could only ever entice you.

Oud and cinnamon, cardamom powder with the tiniest hint of smoke.

Droplets of water travel down the carvings within his muscles, his body perfectly toned and covered in taut, tanned skin that glows the prettiest golden hue in the slivers of warm light that creeps through the slightly agape en suite door.

A dark grey towel clings to his hips, lowering with each step he takes. A commanding aura surrounds him, alongside the steam that rises from his skin and he runs a damp hand through his messy hair, carding the strands out of his face although that mischievous curl keeps clinging to his dewy forehead.

"You're looking at me funny." Damian speaks, arms moving to cross over his chest, that emerald and tungsten ring glinting on his finger in a way that makes your pussy throb. You can tell that he's trying to put you on the spot, that faint twitch of the corner of his mouth, the glint in his eyes.

And you let out a scoff.

"Cause you're funny looking."

Damian raises a thick, dark brow and you feel your palms become sweaty.

This isn't a trust fund kid. This isn't American.

This is the exact same person from back then. Broad, squared shoulders, proud posture. An Arabian-Mongolian prince who knows that his spot at the top of the food chain is secured, and he doesn't need to hide that.

He looks like he's only missing peacocks and concubines who wear sheer fabric and dance with feathery fans.

"You're intimidated." Damian speaks, his voice low, a husky timbre that makes your belly flop. And you huff, but before you can answer, his hand moves to your ankle and he tugs you closer to him, towards the edge of the bed.

"But I would be too." He leans forward, a knee between your thighs and his face nears yours, before his lips press against your temple.

No cockiness, no teasing, just love that makes his lips linger before brushing against the curve of your ear.

"Love of my heart, let me adore you."

—♱—

Two fingers pump into your drooling cunt, Damian's lips press sweet, soothing kisses to the curve of your neck and the side of your face. Your lips part to let out moans that die when his thumb begins to circle your clit, stoking the flame that burns in your belly.

And he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your bouncing throat, dragging his tongue along your jugular vein before he lets out an almost reverent sigh.

"Look at me, my beautiful wife." Damian breathes out, watching as your lashes flutter and big, bleary doe eyes look up at him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds and he presses a kiss to the space between your brows.

"Your eyes are the only my heart answers to."

Damian murmurs softly, his lips pressing against yours, swallowing the moan you let out when your toes curl, your belly's knot snapping and you come on his fingers.

Liquids trickle down your thighs, soaking through the sheet beneath you and he keeps fucking you with his fingers. Rough pads brush against that gummy spot, and he watches the way your brows crease and twitch at the sensations of him curling his fingers.

You can feel the coolness of his wedding ring brush against your puffy, overstimulated pussy lips and your thighs twitch.

"My goddess."

Damian croons, pulling his fingers out of you before licking them clean, savouring the taste of you on his finger before he lifts you with ease, resting your head on one of the pillows.

And two fingers, two very strong, muscular fingers stroke your folds teasingly, before nestling comfortably over your clit.

You're not sure what it is.

If it's the speed at which his digits vibrate against your clit, if it's the way he sucks hickeys into the skin of your thighs but your stomach sucks in and you barely muffle the whine that leaves you as you cum.

Trickling the smallest little spurt of squirt against his palm.

And Damian's hums, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, flat against the sensitive and overstimulated bud until your hand pushes at his forehead, trying to catch a breather.

You're barely able to string together a coherent sentence before Damian's sliding into you, cock stretching you until there's a burn in your walls. Your nails dig into his biceps, tears threatening to spit from your eyes and he leans over you, lips pressing adoring kisses to your eyes.

"It's gonna feel really good, I promise." Damian breathes quietly, his hands moving up your sides to cup your breasts, your thighs on either side of him. And twitching against his sides when his thumbs brush over your pebbled nipples, his lips pressing against your tear-stained cheeks and he's still.

Trying not to come too quickly at the inviting warmth of your cunt, gummy walls adjusting to his intrusion as his thumbs tease and circle your nipples.

And Damian feels your hands move to his lower belly, nails dragging along the skin over his abs and he knows he can move.

Slowly, Damian drags his cock out of you, leaving only the plump, flushed tip buried in you before he pushes back into you.

You're warm. So, so warm.

He's never felt this before.

Damian's face is flushed, his body smattered with goosebumps and his hands move to your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands before lifting them.

Pushing your knees to your chest, and Damian slowly picks up the pace.

He inclines just enough for his pubic bone to make the best amount of friction against your oversensitive clit, your nails scratching at his broad back, your lashes fluttering and your lips parted to let out the cutest little breathy moans and Damian moans.

A low, whiny sound that has his voice cracking before he pulls out of you, resting his cock flat on your mound before letting out a shuddering breath.

"Shit, you're so tight and warm." Damian sighs, carding his fingers through his raven strands, his chest heaving before he taps the head of his cock against your sopping folds.

And he watches your body twitch and Damian lets out a quiet snort, before his hands caress your hips, thumbs tracing over the spots where there are the faintest stretch marks.

Before Damian shifts you, your knees and hands pressing against the mattress and the silken sheets, and your back arched. Before relaxing into the position, your forearms folded over one another and your cheek resting against the pillow, your arch deepening into a steep slope.

And Damian gulps.

"You intimidated?" You tease, wriggling your hips lazily before Damian's hands bracket them, and he scoffs.

"As if." He mutters under his breath, before pushing himself into your hole, the warmth inviting and so so tempting, and Damian leans forward, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

His hands caress the curve of your spine, pawing at your hips and waist, as his hips roll against yours.

Damian's leaky cock meets your cervix, sloppy kisses pressed deeper than you thought anything could reach and your brain is already mush. Leaky wetness dripping down his twitching length.

You're so close.

Any cocky comment flies out of your lips, and your walls flutter when Damian lets out that breathy, boyish laugh at the sight of your hand moving to rest against the headboard.

"Are you intimidated?" Damian mocks, before he feels that rhythmic clamp of an orgasm as you whine into the pillow, your eyes fluttering shut as you come, spasming around his cock.

And he shudders, pulling out of you immediately and Damian flips you onto your back, sitting back on his haunches before he comes.

Pearly white liquid, thick and stringy cum clings to your pussy, he jerks himself, milking his cock and painting your pretty pussy with his spent.

Damian moans softly, his jaw clenching as he tries to keep quiet, not wanting to let anyone know that after a decade, his marriage is....

Thoroughly, consummated.

And Damian shifts, resting on his stomach and you'd have to be even more blinded to not see the way his lips quirk in excitement, his hands guiding your thighs to rest on his broad shoulders and his calves lift the tiniest bit, absentmindedly kicking as he stares at your messy cunt.

And slowly, Damian drags his tongue through your cum-covered folds.

"I've always enjoyed licking the frosting off my dessert first."

[rabbitsshitpost]

Exactly this.

We are a system, a victim of rape, a victim of grooming for years by man and woman.

And it makes me sick to my stomach when people are trying to act around stuff as if we don't know what happened just cuz they like character.

But they do it only when it comes to man and how I know that? Cuz it's been told already in by Jay that there was no rape that happened in the musical yet people still say that "yes Calypso raped Odysseus for 7 years :D"

So him saying the word out loud in regards to suitors made is even better and the fact that only them tried to rape someone in whole musical makes that even heavier to the story.

Jay isn't only a good musician, he's also a great story teller. - Dionysus

odysseus actually saying the word rape in the song freed me of all the discomfort hold them down made me feel

idk why but it's just so. sexual assault has always been something that should have clear boundaries - and instead, you see the people in power, people who should punish and uphold the law, shift around definitions and wordplay.

as if it isn't a disgusting violation of a person, of their life, of their trust.

metaphors are beautiful, they're my favourite figure of speech. but metaphors, skirting around the topic, when it comes to rape, is what, to me, truly makes that feeling of disgust and discomfort, and yes, even panic, rise.

because the truth is? i know there are people who can excuse and disregard "taking her love and more". not consider it rape. not consider it assault. there are, unfortunately, people who can disregard a metaphor this clear. justify it, even.

but most of those people can't justify the word rape.

I dont know if this makes sense. forgive me if it doesn't. but to me, the intense nausea that hold them down brought about was erased and hell, even comforted, by the rage and protectiveness and bluntness of that one line in odysseus.

jay did a fucking fantastic job.

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi could I please order this:

Lando Norris, Thick Crust, Red Sauce, Garlic, BBQ Chicken, Sun-dried tomatoes, Root beer, Water, Mango Smoothie, Yes

And could you maybe add a little age gap in there if that's possible. Thank you. 😌

AN: Kinda embassing I did this big ole thing saying 'IM BACK" and then proceeded not to actually be back. Anyways I'm writing this Friday the 10th so as you can see I am preparing myself. I don't know if Im back for sure for sure to be 100% honest my mental health has been declining and my drive to write has been lack. I have tomorrow off and I plan to write most of the day to get ahead of posts!

TW: daddy kink, kinda "ditzy" reader, unprotected sex, breeding kink, baby talk, creampie, slight edging talk, sugar daddy (KINDA)

WC: 1.4k

thick crust sugar daddy red sauce rough sex garlic "I know you love it when I fill that pretty pussy with my cum" BBQ chicken “Gonna let me cum in you? I know you wanna have my baby” sun dried tomatoes "Gonna look so pretty pregnant" root beer daddy kink water breeding kink mango smoothie baby trapping dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Y/N POV

"Lando, are we done at the shops?" I ask softly as we exit another shop Lando had managed to convince me to go into on our day out.

"What's got you in such a hurry?" Lando asks back smirk clearly knowing exactly what I'm wanting.

"Don't tease. You spent all morning between my thighs without release," I reply back in a low whisper making sure no one walking the Monaco streets can hear the very private conversation.

"Who's to say I'm gonna give you that release now," Lando says with a teasing smirk while we continued to walk towards where we had parked the car.

"Cause whether you admit it or not, you love watching me cum," I say with a smirk while opening the door to the McLaren and hoping in. Once I was seated in the passenger seat Lando leans down popping his head into the car before placing a small kiss on my lips.

"I do love watching the way your eyes roll into the back of your head when you cum for me," Lando whispers against my lips making me whine slightly and try to lean into Lando's lips for another kiss but he's pulling away slowly with a small laugh falling from his lips.

"You'll have to wait baby," Lando says in a teasing voice while closing the car door and making his way to the driver's side.

When we finally make it to Lando's apartment I'm unbuckling and ready to hope out the car before Lando had even put the car fully in park.

"Such a whore you're in this much of a hurry?" Lando says with a smirk making me roll my eyes and jump out of the car before rounding it to Lando's side and pulling him towards me.

Once Lando and I standing chest to chest my hands quickly find the back of his neck as I try to pull him towards me.

"Please daddy," I whine still trying to pull him towards me.

"Let's get inside the apartment first," Lando whispered back starting to show signs of being turned on.

We both quickly make our way up to the apartment my hand never leaving his and when we get inside the apartment Lando quickly has me pushed up against the door.

"Fuck, you look so fucking good in this dress," Lando groans against my lips while running his hands up and down my thighs.

"Thanks daddy, you bought it," I whisper back while letting a teasing laugh fall from my lips before finally pulling Lando in for the kiss I had been wanting for all day.

I moan into the kiss when I feel Lando's tongue tangle into mine. When Lando's hands wrap around the back of my thighs I jump into his arms wrapping my legs around his waist and letting him carry me into his bedroom.

“Gonna let me cum in you tonight? I know you wanna have my baby,” Lando groans against my lips making me whimper and nod.

While all of this had started as a friends with benefits with a bit of a sugar daddy twist we had quickly fallen into a routine that became clear we were each other's person and more than just a friend. Now being together for more than two years we have finally been able to play into our breeding kink.

"Please daddy. I wanna feel your cum filling up my pussy," I whimper back into his mouth. I can feel Lando grinding into my core through our clothes making me whimper.

"Please daddy, I can't take anymore teasing," I whine trying to grind my hips into him harder.

Lando finally sits up a bit and pulls his shirt off before pulling my dress up and off my body with a bit of my help. When he sees that I'm not wearing a bra or any panties under my dress Lando can't help the moan that leaves his lips.

"My pretty slut. You walked around all day letting your pussy juices drip down your thighs all day," Lando says with a smirk while letting his fingers lightly trail over my hardened nipple.

"You had me too flustered after this morning," I admit sheepishly trying to burry my face into his neck but Lando holds me back making sure I can see his smirk, before he plants a soft his on my lips before letting them trail down my jaw and neck.

"Oh Lan," I moan softly when his mouth finds one of my nipples. This only encourages Lando travel farther down my body and once his mouth finally touches my throbbing clit I can't the moan I let out.

"Fuck, already so wet for me," Lando says with a smirk while running his fingers through my drenched fold before dipping two of his thick fingers into my desperate hole.

"So good," I moan loudly when Lando's fingers graze my G-spot at the same time his tongue takes a long lick at my clit.

It didn't take long for Lando to bring me close to the edge given all the teasing Lando had put me through this morning. I knew he wasn't gonna let me cum that easy but I can't help the loud whine I let out when he pulls away from my desperate pussy.

"Lando, please! I need to cum," I whine trying to grind my hips up trying to get some kind of stimulation.

Lando finally gives into my pleas because he stands up for a split second to pull off his pants and boxers before climbing back into the bed and almost instantly running the hard tip of his thick cock through my folds before pushing in filling me up completely.

"Fuck, gonna look so pretty pregnant," Lando grunts while fucking into me at a harder pace clearly thinking about what I may look like when I get pregnant with his kids.

"Fuck daddy, harder," I moan arching my back off the bed slightly, letting Lando hit my G-spot at the new angle he is fucking me at.

"Fuck, I can feel you clenching around me. Tryna milk all my cum huh?" Lando grunts out teasing me slightly only driving me even closer to the edge.

"Yes daddy! Please can I cum," I beg feeling tears start to well up in my eyes from holding back from cumming for so long.

"Cum for me and then beg for my cum," Lando grunts making me whimper before I feel his fingers start to tease my clit throwing me over the edge almost instantly.

"Oh fuck, thank you daddy!" I cry out in a moan feeling my orgasm come in waves while Lando continues to milk every last bit of pleasure out of my body.

"Please fill me up with your cum," I beg softly letting my post orgasm haze set in. I can feel Lando's thrusts start to shutter before I feel one final thrust deep into my pussy and Lando filling me up with his warm cum.

"Mm, thank you, Lan," I mumble pulling Lando in for another kiss moaning when I feel one final rope shoot into my pussy.

"I know you love it when I fill that pretty pussy with my cum," Lando teases while pulling out of my pussy making me whimper slightly when I feel my pussy clench around nothing.

Lando quickly collects some of the cum from my leaking pussy before fucking it back into my pussy. I whimper when he grazes my G-spot before slipping his fingers out and teasing my clit for a split second before pulling away.

Lando leans down over my body and places a few soft kisses along my face before finding my lips.

"I love you," Lando tells me softly against my lips making me smile softly.

"I love you too!" I say back with a bright smile starting to spread across my face.

Lando climbs out of bed and finds a a clean towel coming back into the room and softly cleaning me up while he praises me for doing to good.

Once he's cleaned me up enough he grabs a pair of clean boxers and throws them on while finding one of his shirts and making his way back to the bed and helping put it on me.

Once we both get settled into bed I can help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me.

"Will you finally move in officially?" Lando asks softly while running his fingers through my hair.

"Only when you finally get me pregnant," I tease with a smirk on my face. Lando just rolls his eyes and laughs lightly.

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

say yes to heaven

how spencer and you deal (or don't deal) with the fact that he doesn’t want a baby anymore after coming home from prison, and you really do.

MDNI | angst

word count: 2226 warnings & tags & stuff: bau!reader, avoidant!reader, avoidant spencer, no happy ending (wtf), reader wants a baby, one line about reader not having a certain religious belief, they like almost have sex, spencer undresses reader, lots of talk about a condom, they dont really fight at all?, very underdeveloped/bad description of quantum immortality author's note: heyyyyy guyss whats up..... this is a different vibe to my regular stuff and i fear it may be really ooc?? i don't know how to feel but i literally have to post or i'll go even more crazy sooo here we are!! have a delightful day, let me know your thoughts if you have any, ily!!!

Antique shops, you and Spencer have decided, are the hidden gems of this nation yet to be appreciated enough by the general public. 

Each town or city you visit is bound to have one, and going to them has become a little celebratory tradition. In the early mornings after cases are solved, right before the plane ride home, you take a look around. You’re typically the first and only ones in the store, wandering with intertwined hands and sipping on ‘2 extra foamy cappuccinos with an additional shot of espresso, please’ and occasionally, but not necessarily, choosing something to take back to D.C.

You’ve been trying your absolute hardest to fill your home to the brim– sometimes with objects, and other times with words, or touch, or the ever so valuable and fleeting concept of shared time– in effort to replace what had been lost in that three month long period when it was completely devoid of tangible, fresh love.

It’s today you’re wandering through a quaint, very cluttered shop in western Oregon, the Pacific visible from the store’s windows. 

Wheels up in an hour. Don’t be late. Hotch’s text buzzes in your pocket, but you barely glance at it– there’s something about the Oregon coast that reaches into your heart and gives it a gentle massage, enveloping you in a refreshing lack of urgency.

Spencer, in his own peaceful world, is staring at a tall wall of books. He reaches out to pick up a dusty rendition of Moby Dick, carefully cracking it open to the first few pages to check the publication date, brow scrunching as he reads. You go to peer over his arm to check as well, when something catches the corner of your eye. You let go of his hand to inspect.

A bassinet. Dark wood, surface polished to a faint sheen, with intricate little waves engraved on the sides, like the ocean’s misty outreach had come all the way into the shop and placed this here for you to see. 

You weren’t exactly sure when this now familiar ache had started; this deep, internal desire felt in your stomach for a little hand to be gripped around your pointer and for tiny onesies to fill your laundry basket, but you’re sure, with every fiber of your being, that you want it to be there.

“Spence,” you say softly, voice jarring in the otherwise stillness of the shop. “Come look.” He carefully closes the book and puts it back where it was and pads over, looking down at the bassinet. His eyebrows raise slightly.

“Wow. It looks like it was made in the 80s, maybe even earlier. You won’t find any level of detailing more recently than that, it’s too labor intensive for modern production methods. Good find.”

“I know. Should we get it?” you ask, biting a smile. He quickly meets your eyes, brow raising slightly.

“Do you want to?” he asks, voice even.

“I mean, I just think it’s really cute, with the waves and stuff.” you say bashfully, nudging it with your toe so it rocks back and forth. Spencer swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

“Yeah, I just…” Spencer hesitates. “I don't think we’d be able to bring it on the jet. It would probably snap in half if we held it in the wrong way,” he says, making your brain race even though he hasn’t said a single thing that should cause it to do so.

“Oh.”

You blink.

“No, yeah, you’re totally right. It’s too inconvenient. You should get that copy of Moby Dick instead. That edition looked cool, with the forward explaining all the names,” you say gently, pushing a smile, nudging him back towards the shelf. He goes, shooting you one last glance as you move to observe a few clocks hanging on the wall.

Spencer doesn’t reach for your hand again when he comes back.

…

The house is quiet when you arrive back home, hours later. Spencer sets his bag down by the door, and yours goes next to his to be dealt with later.

Exhaustion from the case is heavy in your limbs; the long flight and the sleepless nights are seeping into your bones, but Spencer seems perfectly intent upon kissing it better. You rest your forehead on his chest, exhaling softly, contentedly, as he presses kiss after kiss into your hair. He gently rests his hands on your waist and pushes you against the door– not as an act of dominance, like if someone were viewing you two from afar might assume, but one of simple convenience.

His hand reaches up to tilt your chin to the position he wants. Before leaning in to your neck, he pauses. 

“Are you sure you don’t just want to go to bed?” he asks. “You didn't sleep last night.” You shake your head, giving his cheek a small peck of your own.

“It’s one of those tireds where I can’t even think about sleep ever again.” 

A small smile grows on his face.

“I bet I can change that,” Spencer offers, knuckles skimming over your waist. You smile and let him tug you upstairs to your room and guide your hips to sit on the bed. His hand cups the side of your jaw, as always, lips moving to press against yours in a soft, affectionate display of his adoration. His other hand moves to your waist, squeezing, and you shiver a little in response, making him hum gently. 

His hands go underneath the hem of your top. “Okay?” he asks. You nod, lifting your arms to help. His eyes take their time tracing over you, but never in a way that couldn't be defined as sweet. His hand leaves your cheek and goes to the bedside table, sliding open the drawer. It draws toward the front left corner, as it always does, when it pauses. He turns to look at you, hesitating.

You, whose legs are now pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them. You stare at the yellow light of the lamp you and Spencer picked out months ago reflecting against those countless little squares of foil. 

Your lips are drawn inwards, between your teeth, unable to help your mind from racing to other realities, ones where every detail is the very same, except Spencer chose not to open that drawer tonight. 

…

Spencer explained the basis of quantum immortality to you a long time ago, in the early stages of your relationship, at a time so late in the night where a regular person would never be able to form coherent thoughts, let alone thoughts like these.

You were slumped over the kitchen island, peering at him as he wandered around, silently marveling at the preciousness of your boyfriend the world seemed to take for granted as he tried to get you to understand how cool this concept was.

“There’s also an interpretation of quantum mechanics proposed by a physicist named Hugh Everett which involves a ‘many worlds’ concept: essentially, it suggests that every possible outcome of an event creates its own branch of reality, meaning an infinite number of parallel worlds exist, each containing a version of events where everything that can happen, does happen,” he starts, widening his eyes for dramatic effect. “So quantum immortality is rooted in the concept that when we die in one timeline, we essentially just move on to the next one where every detail is the same except… well, you don’t die.”

He went on to emphatically talk about some guy’s cat in a box, but how this time, in a thought experiment that demonstrates this theory of immortality, you’re the cat.

You had pretty much lost him when he got to that part.

…

You blink, shoving the memory from your mind. 

“You’re staring,” you point out quietly.

“You’re pretty,” Spencer responds. He sits next to you on the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You watch as his other hand fiddles with the condom he grabbed, running his thumb over the edges of the wrapper. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he says, “Did I do something?” You shake your head softly. 

“Mm-mm.”

“Really? Because we’ve been sitting in silence and you haven’t stopped staring at the condom in my hand for the past two minutes.”

You exhale quietly, internally screaming at yourself to just spit it out.

It’s never been easy, being an agent dating an agent. Sure, agreements have been made to not profile each other, but with so many years of experience, small observations and connections about your partner’s nature are an automatic practice. You know that Spencer takes 3 sugars in his coffee just as well as you know he says your name more frequently and shortens his sentences when scared, almost like he tries to instead convey the appearance he’s mad.

You also know very well that you and Spencer have both been consciously avoiding this conversation like the plague, especially since his homecoming. 

You gnaw at your lip, trying to think of something to say, but your mind can only come up with freaky images of cats that are simultaneously alive and dead until observed.

“`M sorry, I was just thinking. Lost in my mind.”

“Thinking about what?”

Relationships that are simultaneously kept and broken until a certain conversation is had.

“Um. Quantum immortality. Who’s that guy? Hugh Jackman?”

Spencer straightens, eyebrows raising a little. “Hugh Everett,” he supplies. His tone is gentle, coaxing. “You’ve been thinking about that? I told you about him months ago.”

He stands as you quietly think of a response, grabbing a hoodie from the closet to tug over your bare torso, letting his hand gently cradle the back of your head after doing so.

“Yeah. I did a little more reading on it. It’s kind of a nice thought I keep going back to. Obviously really, really scary when you think about it for too long. But nice in the sense that there’s probably a version of us out there somewhere where…” you trail off, suddenly extremely aware of the weight of your words. 

He glances down to the condom he left on the comforter.

The thick silence that follows feels like it stretches across a thousand timelines, each one probably also filled with countless what-ifs and unspoken words and really bad communication, and at the very root of all of it, fear. That deep, gaping hole in both of your souls.

When Spencer finally looks at you, his eyes are so deep it takes your breath away. So deep that it jars you into just saying it.

“Spencer,” you begin, voice so quiet. “Do you still want kids?”

You find yourself shooting up a silent prayer to whoever is out there looking out for you– God or Isaac Newton or Hugh Everett or Jason Gideon: 

Pleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyes.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you continue– a habit probably picked up from the person standing right in front of you. “I just feel like there was a time where we were almost talking about it, but then it… went away.”

He reaches out to gently take the condom you were now fiddling with and sets it back in the drawer, his hand resting on the edge of the table as if grounding himself. His face is soft, almost glowing in the dim yellow light.

“I know,” he starts, voice crackling at the edges.

You stay dead silent.

“I didn’t mean for it to go away,” Spencer says, the crack in his voice causing you to glance up and see his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

You nod, shakily, though the perpetual ache in your stomach is sharper now, more like it’s a knife stabbing you through the gut.

“I get it,” you say, even though part of you doesn’t want to. “You don’t need to be sorry.” You can’t even bring yourself to think of the implications of what he just said– all you know is that there is something fundamentally different between you and Spencer that wasn’t there before.

“It’s not that I don’t want it. I do. You know I do. But I can’t. Not now.”

You reach out your hand for him to take.

“Spencer,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Really. We don’t have to talk about it any more.”

His lips press into a thin line, and you can tell he doesn’t believe you. Clearly. It wasn’t a statement said to be believed. There was nothing okay, at all, but this isn’t a fight- there’s nothing to fight about. There's just a quiet understanding. He nods, finally, and steps back. “We should get some sleep,” he says, his voice almost too soft to hear.

You watch as he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, still in his work clothes, leaving just enough space for you beside him. After a moment you curl up next to him because, despite everything, doing the alternative would be so much worse.

Spencer's arms wrap around you, his breath warm against the nape of your neck, and you close your eyes and let the silence settle over you both, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your back. Something you would have given anything to have not so long ago.

[emacrow]

Raven and Tim were the next one to know as Babs brought them in a room with a powerpoint about the fairy boy in Alfred's garden.

Raven because she knows most all mythical creatures in her personal library books and hopefully has a solution to how to capture and relocate the fairy..

Tim for the strategy and backup plans, but his mouth was currently being duct taped shut because Babs will kill him if he say those words.

"Alright, do you have any questions, and what are your solutions plan for capture misplaced Fairy?" Babs said after finishing the powerpoint.

"How exactly did Alfred acquire this flower that the winged fae resided in?"Raven said, looking through her books of Fae history and homes.

"Alfred saw it was the only thing left on the sale, and discount flowers stand at his favorite grocery store, but he got it for free since the tag for it was gone and the manager did had a crush on him. I believe it is a bit far too coincidental." Babs continues to explain.

"I checked the groceries camera footages and it seem to just appear out of nowhere, like some type of glitch in the system."

"... It sounds like a misplaced infinite realm random natural portal incident.." Raven mumbled a bit, flipping a book's pages with her telekinesis to the correct page with the number at the very end chapter of fae and infinite realms.

"Infinite realm..?" Tim voice a bit after tearing off the double duct tape off his mouth, rubbing his stinging lips.

"Yes, seem the little fae was judge as an offering that was rejected to a Higher being of the Infinite realm or offended due to a defect such as his wings are missing." Raven thought about it after several examinations.

"The fae still has sparkling dust on his clothes that was likely fae powder-

"-Pixie dust" babs said a bit too excitedly

"Scars all over his body and on his back look to been recently that he was tortured and his wings were Intently torn off to make sure he didn't had a chance to escape back to fae realm, along with being placed back into his home flower stuck in hibernation phase while contaminated with the infinite realm energy.

Seem the nature portal randomly was this fae saving grace, as it instinctly went straight for sugar cube, a blueberry and gem that didn't have silver coating along with its body pushing itself hard to fly with the remaining residue of fae powder that the buzzing sound was likely a former lightning since Fae noises can not be heard by the human ear even with boasting of magic unless you had step into the fae rings." Raven explained as she read the chapter.

"Do fairies tend to die if you say that.." Babs trying to say by pointing at to emphasize the words on the powerpoint that typed words theory of fairies dying if humans say they don't exist??

"Unfortunately, it seemed so as thousand years or so began to humans lost interests, offerings or belief to Fae-

"Fairies-

-Azarath Metrion Zinthos, they tend to lose power and seemingly fade away into a painfully slow death is very rare, which was counter by them cutting off the entrances of their own fairy rings to the world to sace their immortalized skin." Raven said after getting interrupt for the second time, using the shadows to cover Babs mouth so she can finished explaining.

Previous post part 3 link Here <-

[simpjaes]

Can you make Jay try to teach the reader how to play guitar but end up with them both making out and doing other things instead of doing that? ((Sorry, english is not mt first language😭

He's just as quiet now as he is any other time you've tried to befriend him. You've only ever gotten him to spend more than five minutes with you through the means of his interests. Playing guitar, which, you really do want to learn of course, but that's not all you're here to learn.

Do you know why you're so dead set on getting close to him? No, but you're glad you put in the effort because with each lesson, he opens up more and more, proving to you just how likable he is. It's not much, but it's more than what you ever thought he'd give to you.

Appearing more and more handsome with each visit, hands strumming before helping you strum and finger the strings correctly. You can't help the crush, or the way it starts to feel intimate when he touches you by the means of teaching you how to move. Tonight is no different, your crush still sits on your cheeks through heat and your outfits continue to accentuate your body more and more in hopes you'll catch his eye straying. Never before have they, until now.

You caught him doing it.

Typically, your eyes remain on the guitar or whatever he's directing you to do, rarely do you get a reason to make eye contact with him when the lesson is actively happening. But, you can't help yourself. You want to look at him, especially when he's unaware.

Apparently, he does the same thing.

You glance only briefly, up under your eyelashes you note how his eyes very quickly dart to yours. They were much lower before, not looking at your face, but not low enough to be looking at your hands either.

You do a double take upon meeting his eye, quickly looking away shyly before landing your eyes back on him. He hadn't looked away when you did, only continued to stare at you. His expression lending somewhat of an idea as to what he's thinking only because he breaks the eye contact for a fraction of a second to look at your lips. Is it so wrong to make assumptions? Even if he never offers many details about his life or interests? Is it so wrong to think he may have a little crush too? And there's no words to be said, mindlessly you strum the guitar incorrectly just to minimize the silence in the room, and the way he ignores the incorrect movements only makes you feel more warm about this. Normally, he's correcting you, but he's not now. He's still just...looking at you. There's a bit of a pull, where you swear he's leaning closer and closer without realizing it himself, or maybe that's you leaning in. It doesn't really matter though, not when you blink at him and he finally looks away, swallowing around a lump in his throat and seemingly blinking away his thoughts while staring at his poster clad wall. "You're not doing what I showed you..." He trails off, glancing briefly and stiffening under the gaze you don't break towards him. "I thought we were making progr-" "Show me again." You mutter, more quiet than you intended. You're still locked into him, uncaring of the lesson like so many times before this. You know exactly what you're doing wrong, he taught you well. It's intentional. Just to get his hands on yours again, to have him hovering slightly, close enough to where if you tilt your chin up, the position and proximity would be intimate. He takes the bait too, shifting himself from beside you to in front of you, inspecting your hands and trying to pretend he doesn't see them shake. He reaches forward, getting closer than he normally would with the uncertainty of what was behind that staring match swimming in his head. He can still feel you looking at him, and it's making him nervous. To the point you feel his hands shake when they touch yours, and that's when you look up, tilting your chin towards him and blinking only twice. He looks down at you and only now can see what's happening. There's electricity between the two of you. He doesn't stop himself either, with one hand still on yours, adjusting your fingers to the right position, his lips land in their own, very right, position too. It's not long after that when the guitar becomes a glaring problem. It sits between the two of you, even as he awkwardly hunches over to keep the kiss ignited and hot. He's the one who grabs it, mindlessly propping it to the side and ignoring the sound of how it slides over and falls to the floor in a crash. No, he doesn't care right now. It's a cheap guitar anyway, he'll just let you borrow his. Whatever. The only thing on his mind right now is grabbing your face with both hands as he practically climbs on top of you, lying you down on the couch in a heated, somehow passionate kiss. And you're a little shocked if you're being honest. A full blown make out session with him wasn't in your agenda, though you very much would have loved for it to have been. You smile into it, realizing that he's much less awkward with his mouth when he's kissing rather than speaking. He knows what he's doing too, pressing you into this couch with one knee between your legs, not letting you breathe for more than a split second when he pulls back and angle his head differently against your warm tongue. When he groans into it, and you feel the heavy bulge in his pants pressing against you despite his attempts to keep his hips to himself...that....that's what pushes you. In the kiss, he appears lost in it. So lost that he doesn't notice the way you run your hand down, even as his body reacts to your cold fingers touching up and under his shirt before moving down and groping him. Right there, his mouth falls slack, moaning into your mouth with gently closed eyes. He looks so relieved, like he feels so good just doing this.

The best part is how he returns the favor, touching you the same way you touch him, up until you're both a panting mess with a damaged guitar on the floor. Up until you're releasing into your panties just by the pressure of his fingers over them. Until he's making a mess in his own pants, looking away from you in embarrassment because...fucking honestly, you're so fucking fine. He'd been jerking off to you for weeks, it's only natural for him to cum all over himself because of this.

It's the fact that you did too...the fact that you offer to clean him up, and that offer involves your fucking mouth.

[roanniom]

hi issa! i hope all is well and im so glad you’re back! you are literally one of the best writers ever (and literally my favorite person who writes for eddie) ! i hope you’re day is going good 💛

i would love to request cute; needy eddie phone call (you can make it spicy if you want), maybe the reader went on a girls trip and the reader calls him once at the hotel and he is just miserable 😩

Hi there anon! I'm doing okay, but writing is making everything better. Super happy to do this request.

On the Line

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation

"Eddie. I've been gone for half a day. I was literally with you this morning." You try to make your voice sound reproachful, but your smile cannot be hidden. You're in your hotel room getting ready to go down for dinner with your friends.

"I knowwww, don't remind me. It has been AGONY!"

You hear a muted thump which you imagine to be Eddie throwing himself on his couch near the landline.

"Well what are you doing to distract yourself from this agony?" you ask with amusement.

"I tried touching myself, but I'll be honest, it's more effective now that I can hear your voice, babe."

"EDDIE MUNSON!"

"Whaaaat? What else is there to do?"

"I don't know. Go outside? Maybe touch some grass, you fucking horn dog," you laugh, laying back on the hotel bed.

"I can't exactly go jerk off on the grass, Mrs. Jenkins said she'd call the cops if she ever caught me doing that again - ,"

"Eddie. I will smack you."

"Ugh, don't make promises you can't keep. What do you think I've been imagining?"

You slap an exasperated hand over your face and Eddie moans.

"What was that? Smacking your own ass to give me some auditory stimulation, princess? Do it again!"

"No, that was me covering my eyes from the shame of having such a perverted boyfriend."

"Don't pretend you aren't just as perverted, sweetheart. Even Mrs. Jenkins knows, with how loud you usually are - ,"

"Edward. Munson."

"Mmmm yeah. Say my name, baby."

You can't help but dissolve into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

"Are you actually touching yourself right now?"

"Think about that question for a second. Really let that simmer for me."

Suddenly you hear the most obscene, wet squelching coming from the phone. It's so sudden and so rapid that you pull the phone away from your ear for a second. Clearly Eddie had put the receiver down where he was...taking care of himself.

"Eddie..." you say, but this time it is less reproachful and more breathless.

"Princess." His voice is less humorous now. A little deeper. A little scratchy.

"I have to go in a few minutes..." you trail off wistfully. You've begun to tune into Eddie's more labored breathing.

"Sure about that?"

His voice is gruff. You want to laugh but suddenly find that you can't.

"You know I can still smell your perfume in this fucking trailer, right? Like a god damn temptress. Why would you do that to me, honey?"

The phone is clearly by his lips as you can hear him loud and clear. But similarly loud and clear is the sound of his hand on his cock. Now moving furiously.

But you're not the only one hearing new things.

"I can hear you breathing heavier, baby." Eddie says it conspiratorially. There is the distinct sound of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah well you're turning me on. I'm only fricken human, you know."

"No. I don't know that. Pretty sure you're a goddess." Eddie finishes his statement with a groan. "So what are you wearing...my goddess."

You clutch the phone to your ear and look down at your outfit.

"Well, we're all going out tonight so I'm wearing that sparkly top that you said was too sexy for The Hideout."

"Are you fucking with me right now, sweetheart?" Eddie chokes out. You imagine that he's gripping himself, trying not to cum at the mere image of you in the revealing garment. "You mean to tell me...we've been talking all this time and your tits have just been...out?"

"I'm not naked, Eddie. It's just low cut," you argue, but your body begins to heat up all the same.

"Low cut, huh?" he asks gruffly. "Why don't you reach into that low cut top and touch yourself for me then."

"Oh...kay." You don't even fight him. Your hand cups your breast under the fabric.

"Make sure to pinch and twist your nipples a little. For me."

As if pleasuring yourself will inherently bring him physical pleasure. Which you guess it does, because when you inhale sharply at the feeling, Eddie lets out a moan. You hesitate for a second.

"Is Wayne - ,"

"At work. Don't bring up that old man when I'm so close to cumming." Eddie barks with frustration. You release a breathy chuckle.

"You're already close?"

"Babe. I've been touching myself for hours. I've been on the edge this whole conversation."

"Yeah?" you ask, egging him on.

"Yeah, baby. I'm about to blow hearing your sweet voice."

"Well....you should know that I'm wet." You're being honest. The idea of having to go downstairs in a few minutes is becoming less appealing by the second.

"Oh fuck."

"Yeah. I really want to touch myself, baby."

"Do it." Eddie practically orders.

"I can't," you say, though one of your hands does begin to slide south, between your breasts, down the plane of your stomach, to cup yourself beneath your skirt. You keep the phone cradled between your ear and your shoulder so you can keep one hand on your breast, fingers tweaking your nipple.

"I need you, baby." It comes out more submissive than his previously demanding tone. You lower your voice to match.

"I know, Eddie. Can you cum for me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? You'll cum for me?" You hear his breathing pick up. From the sound of his stroking, he's right there. You rub your palm over your clothed pussy, feeling your clit ache with need.

"Fuck. Yeah I'll...fuck."

"That's it baby, cum for me."

The gasping and sputtering on the other side of the phone overwhelms you and you find yourself grinding against your hand in vain. You won't be able to take care of yourself. Not yet at least. But you know that when you get back to your hotel room later tonight, one of those pillows are really in for it.

"Fuuuck, princess."

"That good, huh?" you ask, cheekily.

"Don't act all proud of yourself," Eddie admonishes playfully. "There's nobody here to clean me up."

Your heart (and pussy) pound at the reference to the way you usually lick up the evidence of his pleasure.

"I'll be back before you know it, handsome."

Eddie sighs.

"You have to go now, don't you." It isn't a question. You laugh.

"I had to go fifteen minutes ago. But I guess you had to cum first."

~*~

--

---

--

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what your favorite part was!

[le-panda-chocovore]

When I was in middleschool they taught me about our rights and they said no one is allowed to post pictures about us without our authorisation. At every school event they had to send our parents a paper asking if they were okay with them taking photos of their children, and if the parents signes No then the kid wouldn't appear on any picture. It was at the period where every teen started having a cell phone and I remember I was the last one in my class who had one. It wasn't even a smartphone. So we all enjoyed the new technology but we all had the same education that it wasn't okay to take and post pictures of people without their consent, so it was still in control. Of course some people didn't care, but most of us were careful of this kinds of thing. Tiktok didn't exist yet. Influencer wasn't an actual job. Instagram was still full of pictures of lunch or outfit of the day. Today people might think that this is cringe, but this was what the app was made for at the first place.

And then some day, I don't know exactly when, it shifted. Suddenly it was normalized to shame strangers on social media, to take screenshots of that one girl in the background of a picture and make her a meme. This isn't okay. I shouldn't be scared to walk unmasked outside because I risk to be caught in a video any time. I shouldn't see stories of people having their lives destroyed by a meme and not being able to look for work because the whole internet know them as "the snake guy" or whatever.

This isn't normal.

It’s so fucked up how tiktok culture has made clout-poisoned people turn the public into content, every day I see people minding their business have their entire faces put online for thousands of likes, a couple kissing on the train, a lady dancing across a cross walk, a guy nodding his head to the music at a club, a lady buying a banana at the store, ring camera footage of the neighbors kids being stupid. Just let people live jfc

[lavenders388]

hiiii!! i’m in LOVE with your writing & i’m so happy to have found you ^^ I was wondering if I could request some headcanons of player 388 (Kang Dae-ho) with a s/o that was also in the military? ik it’s gonna sound a bit specific, but if it could be the FARC then i’d really appreciate it !! (oc reasons 😅) <33

~real man~

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Kang Dae Ho x Military! Reader Headcannons<3

requested 💌

a/n thank you for the request!! this is such a lovely idea!! -matcha

<3 the second he finds out you were also in the military he becomes even more interested in you in a respectful admiration way kind of like how he was to Jung Bae! he understands the struggles that you've been through because he went through the same and he respects you for that, as well as he enjoys knowing there's someone closer to his age he can relate to!

<3 he gets a little bit sad for you; just knowing like what he went through and the things he struggles with from serving like physical injuries/ptsd. he just cares about you so much and doesn't want you to have ever had to go through anything negative.

<3 if you were in a higher branch/rank than him, he gets really embarrassed thinking about how much he talked about himself not knowing there was someone higher than him there. he gets really flustered when you tell him he should still be proud of himself:3

<3 if you were in the FARC, i don't think he would know exactly what it was, just with it being a little different from what he went through as well as depending on how much he knew/didnt know about your country! once you explain it to him he's in awe that you were a part of something so noble and groundbreaking.

<3 Dae Ho also admires and is interested in learning what made the FARC form in the first place and is even more interested in the fact that its now recognized as its own political party! he finds this super interesting and admirable. he loves learning more not just about you but about your country, and he gets to do that a lot by learning more about what you served in!

<3 going off of the previous one, if you arent in the games/when he gets out he definitely researches it a ton just so he can know more about you and impress you with his knowledge:)

<3 he does the "SIR!" thing to you a lot to joke around; but he truly does respect you and see you as higher due to your service and his admiration of you in general:3

<3 he loves this part of you a ton and loves that the two of you have this in common as well, as your relationship develops he appreciates this a lot because it allows him to speak to you and get to know you more:)

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine, I kept thinking about a Kamisato Ayato in a modern day AU in which him and the reader were going through a divorce because things are not going the way it was supposed to be and the marriage is just not working out anymore. When suddenly, suddenly he had an amnesia.

Imagine instead of his mistress, it was you whom he kept looking for, demanding to see upon waking up after the accident. Leaving his mistress baffled and confused just as you are upon arriving at the hospital, hoping that little shitty of a husband dead only to find him demanding and desperately looking for you in the midst of this messy and chaotic moment.

"Anata." His voice soften in contrast to his shouts earlier before you enter the room, doctors, nurses and his mistress all inside. "Anata." He called out again but you just stood there as he desperately tried to call your attention. "Anata, who are these people inside the room? What's happening?" He called out and question you, you knew he was calling you because he was looking at you, not anyone but you. Which is pretty funny because he haven't called you that for years, ever since the marriage started falling apart.

"He must have hit his head pretty hard Doc." You spoke nonchalantly, not in the mood to deal with all this bullshit. "It's been years since he called me like that. Can someone explain to me what's happening with my husband?" "Husband? Then who-?" "His mistress." You replied. "As I'm saying- asking rather, can someone explain to me what happened to this guy over here?" "... Very well, Mr. Kamisato over here is involved in a car accident and had brain concussion. As we can see..."

Imagine walking into the room, not that you want to. But upon walking into the room, you are quite surprised to find him alone in there. You were quite expected him to have his mistress with him but turns out that was not the case. "Who's that?" "Who's who?" "That person who was here earlier calling me her lover." "Oh. Well she is exactly who she said she was, she's your lover." You answered, sitting on the sofa inside the private room. Looking away and pulling your phone to check out your notifications. Because goddammit, how dare he look so hurt by those words?

"She what-? Why? Tell me you're joking." You have never seen him look so confused before. Looking back and forth to the notifications on your phone and to the man right in front of you. You sigh, causing him to flinch. "The doctor told me you can be dismissed in two days because you're still under observation. And while you're current suffering from amnesia, they said there was still a possibility of you regaining your memories so don't treat her pretty harshly. I know it could be confusing at first but you'll het over it." You explain and then stood up, "Then, I'll get going now."

Imagine glancing at him only to see him look so broken, like he was waiting, begging for someone to wake him from his dream, from his nightmare. You look away, it's not like it hurts to see him like that. It stopped hurting years ago. Nevertheless, once again you sigh. "Anata-" "I can't have children." "It doesn't matter-" "Well it does now, Ayato." You smile softly at him. "And that explains everything." You added before turning your back at him and walking towards the door. "Oh right, please sign the divorce paper. You wouldn't want your future child to be labelled illegitimate, no?"

Imagine hearing him call out- scream after you but you just kept walking without looking back. You ignore his cries and call with all your might, and walking past the corridor, "Go on, comfort him." You said as you walked pass the woman. "I'm sorry." She said, sounding like she was about to cry and you couldn't help but to smile a little, "No, I'm sorry." You replied as you continue to walk your way out of the hospital.

Imagine going inside the car, your cachuffere already waiting for you inside. And in the middle of the ride, "Want to smoke?" "Nahh" You declined as you look at the city lights. "Are you sure you wouldn't regret this?" "What are you talking about." You chuckle. "He might remember everything one day." "He won't. And even if he did, he wouldn't be able to do anything by then." You answered. "He would hate you." "Then much better." You replied.

"Is it?" "Hmm?" "For the better?" Well in comparison to the amount of suffering he has to go through cause by his elders just because he has yet to produce a heir to the clan, questioning and criticising his title as the chairman and chief of the Kamisato clan, it would be much better to get rid of his one of only flaw. His spouse that couldn't give him a heir. Closing your eyes, this is nothing, "Yeah, for the better." I'm sorry, my love.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I'm getting a hang of this crocheshit. Ily may pasok na ko bukas yawa ayoko na pumasok. Also, this imagine escalated real quick like no sht. I was writing this for fluff but???

[yoru-exe]

KINICH ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . heart eyes

kinich isn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, but if he's being honest, he thinks more than he feels. dealing with emotions has never been his strong suit. so when his system acted funny when he laid eyes on you — a total warrior-stranger at the stadium — it took a very long time for him to understand why he felt so.

when his heart refuses to cooperate, he relies on his wit, like he always does. he couldn't put his finger to his emotion yet, but he knows exactly what to do to something precious — he protects it, like the parcels his clients often entrust him with. so he starts to play the protector role whenever he teams up with you for assignments given by the archon. he look forward to those opportunities much more than he's willing to admit though.

for someone who preaches about allocating a specific amount of energy for task execution, seeing kinich giving extra effort into it sure raises some brows, of which his pixelated companion specifically wouldn't shut up about.

"are you planning to die sooner? that's why you wield your weapon even when i, almighty dragonlord, k'uhul ajaw is up here above all?", his evil laughter boomed in the sky, though fallen on the saurian hunter' deaf ears.

"just shut up and and clear this mess quickly. not like you're doing much anyway". he easily slashed away at an enemy, while ajaw fired is dragon breathe in annoyance, "how dare you!".

the battle ended much faster with them working together. while he didn't want to make it a habit for ajaw to think that he can sit back while he does the hard work, he definitely wanted you to feel so.

"thanks, but i can protect myself, you know."

"i know, but i still want to protect you".

kinich swore he saw your cheek turned reddish. did the heat bother you? it sure was quite sunny that day. before he could ask if you're feeling alright, you quickly moved to inspect the wound on his forearm, so he couldn't see your face anymore. but he's not one to oppose, so he left your to it.

it was a mission that the two of you embarked on a particularly long journey. throughout the travel, he got to know more about you, and each time you open your mouth to speak, he paid close attention to each word you said as if they were magical and he's enchanted.

then, by the time the mission completed, you arrived at a point that's closer to the scions of the canopy, so you expected to walk yourself home on your own. to your surprise, kinich had another plan.

"i'll take you home. do you have everything you need? we can rest first if you'd like to".

it took you a little while to process his action before responding, "but you'll have to circle back to your tribe. mine is still further ahead. you don't have to trouble yourself-".

"i don't mind".

kinich isn't a man of word, but his action speaks so loud that while he's still trying to figure out the emotion he feels towards you, you had already feeling the same for him.

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

i mean, idk, this idea randomly came to me while i was doing laundry of all thing. love at first sight kinich sounds kinda ooc imo? but i kinda like how this one goes sooo

[the-attaarmadhaj]

Also. Please normalise subtitles that ACTUALLY MATCH WHAT IS BEING SPOKEN! If you need to have a different set of subtitles for every language the audio is available in, then so be it, but I am fed up of watching stuff on netflix that had to be dubbed into English for there to be an English audio (so anything not made in an English speaking country. Which is quite a lot of my favourite shows on there). And the subtitles are (probably) alright translations of what the characters are saying in the original language, but absolutely does not match what the characters are saying in the dubbed language.

Or even in shows where it's not been dubbed into English, it was just made in English in the first place, and the subtitles STILL don't match the spoken word. I still won't forgive the fact that netlix tried to tell me that Dr Fate was reciting an incantation when he was very clearly just shouting "Brat".

Use the excuse that "oh deaf people won't know" or whatever (not a valid excuse. Absolutely horrible excuse. Dont use this excuse. Deaf people deserve to know exactly what is being said just as much as hearing people.) But I'm not deaf, I just hate loud noises so have the volume turned down and struggle processing words when too much is going on (just the soundtrack can be enough to throw me off understanding spoken word sometimes, especially if the sound crew made questionable sound mixing desicions), so I know. I know that you didn't provide an accurate transcript of the show in your subtitles. And I'm PISSED.

Can we please please normalize subtitles? 

[bunny-jpeg]

men and their power

toto wolff

tags: smut/pwp, assistant!reader, age gap (20s/50s), power dynamics, lingerie & gifts, big cock!toto, doggy style, (threats of) baby trapping, dark-ish themes, oral sex (reader receives)

a/n: happy birthday, toto wolff!!

being the assistant of toto wolff was a tiring job, but it wasn't a thankless one. despite toto's stubborn nature and his capacity for anger, it was a job you quite enjoyed!

you got to see the world, work within a sport you loved and feel fulfilled with your line of work! what more could you want? except you were certain of one thing.

your job description didn't include "sleeping with your boss".

"mister wolff." you swallowed as you picked up the bra out from the box. it was light grey in colour, almost a blue-grey. it was made to fit you. after all, toto had all the information on you he could get. he knew you painfully well, every little detail was accounted for. from the moles on your back to of course, the size of your breasts. toto was detailed oriented that way.

you felt your boss' hands on your shoulders and his voice was low in your ear, "put it on for me, my prize."

you replied, "doesn't seem like the uniform." and you picked up the panties as well and felt a tightness in your throat. these looked expensive and knowing toto they were expensive.

toto's hands lingered down to you hips and he held onto you tightly, "hmm,i'd say it would be. my assistant should only be dressed in the best, don't you think?"

"sir." you moaned as you felt his lips on your neck. you knew this was wrong. but you couldn't deny toto anything. for the sake of your job that meant wearing toto's gift.

toto held onto you tightly and pressed his clothed erection up against your lower back. it didn't help that your boss had a huge cock, rumor said he left every virgin in vienna with a sore cervix. and even though it was a dumb rumor. it still left your stomach in knots. he had left you bruised before. over eight inches and he knew how to use it. age and experience taught the team principal well.

he liked when he could press his hand into your middle and say that he could feel himself inside of you. he liked when you struggled when he pressed on you. he made a displeased noise then said, "that is no way to thank me, treasure." he held onto you a little tighter, "do i need to teach you how to be a little more grateful?" his tone was nearing a dangerous territory in your ear.

he could be dangerous, he loved pretty things to sink his teeth into. especially assistants who always got his morning coffee exactly how he liked it. little things in skirts with high ambitions. he liked to bruise them, ruin them, make them gasp and moan for more. it was cute, all that power and yet toto still had a craving for delicate little things. things he could break and mend back together.

you said, "i love it, sir." you loved your job. but sometimes you forget how scary it could be. he was much older than you with heaps more power. you were in no position to make demands, you had to say yes to him. preferably with a please at the end.

toto smiled, "put it on. we are not on the track anymore, you can take off the uniform." and while you would've gone to the bathroom to change. toto made you strip down in the bedroom then re-dress in the lingerie.

you stood there in the bra and panties, you felt toto's hungry gaze on you. his dark eyes filled with a lust for you. you wanted to cover yourself up, but if you did that. well, it would just spur toto on to tie you up. and you didn't want your wrists rubbed raw because of his leather belt.

toto had a bit of a mean streak in him. he loved watching you squirm under him. and as his dutiful employee, you got the most attention from him. any sexual fixation he had was taken out on your poor throat or pussy.

"does it look alright, sir?" you swallowed, you looked down for a brief moment until he said your name and you looked back up to him. you shifted on your heels a little.

toto stepped forward and reached for your hips. he held onto you and replied, "i'm debating if i should be tearing this off of you or not. you look divine." then leaned down to kiss you on the cheek. he let out a soft groan and you felt a wobble in your knees.

"don't tear it, sir. it's expensive." you pouted and held your gaze at him, "it would be a waste."

toto chuckled and said, "oh, little one. my treasure. my little assistant. just like i own you, i own that garment. so i can tear it as much as i please." then he grabbed the top hem of the panties and tore them down the seam at the side, "i'll simply buy you another pair."

sometimes you forgot that one didn't become a f1 team principal by being nice. toto made more money in a month than you'd see you a lifetime. of course he could simply buy you another pair, even if it was made of fine materials. the cost was nothing.

your eyes went wide in shock. your stuttered, "sir!" and your boss simply laughed and got down on his knees in front of you.

"i own you." he said, "isn't that right?" he leaned in to kiss your exposed cunt. then forced your legs apart to lap at the wetness between your legs. he heard you whine loudly and your voice got caught in your throat.

"sir! mister wolff!" with shaky hands you reached for his dark hair. you knew he dyed it, but there was no time to think about that. not while he was pleasuring you with his tongue. you whimpered, "please."

you knew this was wrong. there was something deeply wrong with this. tot was your boss, but you were standing there with your knees about to give him. as your much larger and older boss orally pleasured you. his tongue worked your achy cunt and it left you without words. it was wrong, yet so right.

he ran his thumb against your clit and you almost melted. your boss knew all the right places to make you feel the climb of pleasure through your body. "so well behaved." he said before you ended up on the bed. barely had enough time to get the nice bra off before he was undressed and in the bed with you. the bra was spared from ripping, but tossed somewhere you couldn't see.

he handled you with ease. got you onto your stomach and your hips raised to meet his cock. while being an assistant was hard work, you spent most of it on your hands and knees. with your superior's cock inside of you.

he sank his thick cock inside of you and you felt yourself cry out from the stretch. he now fit perfectly inside of you and your mouth was agape as you squirmed under him. your face pressed into the pillows. tot used his size to keep you pinned against the lavish bed.

"ah, sir!" your back arched as you felt him pound against you. you grasps the covers under you. your tone got tighter as you said, "ah, please! please!"

toto felt his ears grow hot from the intensity of your sounds. your boss knew your body perfectly, he knew how to make you feel intense pleasure even better than you knew how. no one understood your body the way he did. toto knew how to touch you, rub up against you, fuck you. and each time he did, you felt an inferno in your gut. he fucked you with a fever and it left you hot all over. he liked to watch you drive you crazy with lust, mewling and crying out for him.

the bed rocked against the wall. he moved you how he wanted you. he used your body how he enjoyed it, the pleasure sparked in his blood. he said lowly as you remained pinned under him, "maybe you need to be busier? hmm?" he then suggested, "maybe a baby at your hip? you take care of me and my child?" his words made you gasp and squirm more.

"please, toto." you whined as you were fucked into the hotel bed. it was hard to form proper words where he was so deep inside of you.

"you don't have much of a choice do you? you are mine and if i want you to have a baby then you'll have my baby. i know you want it. to care of my child. be a mother to them." he continued to move. his pace was aggressive and it left you panting.

you knew you should've ran. you should've told the fia or some other governing body. but deep down, you loved it. you enjoyed being the center of toto's world. the act of him ruining you for any other man.

he continued to thrust and enjoyed the feeling of your tight cunt around him and the symphony of sweet noises. your pitiful moans, he could feel the strain in his body from his heavy movements. he had a single focus, to put a baby in you.

"my treasure." he purred.

"please, toto. oh, fuck." you dug your feet into the bed as you tried to not lose all sense of control. you sounded so needy, you sounded like an angel and you drove toto to near climax.

it didn't take much longer for you to finish. climax hit you and it made your mind go blank as toto continued to fuck you. he needed you. you gasped loudly as his pace quickened and he soon finished inside of you.

you relaxed against the covers and let the heat radiate through you. you made a soft noise. toto adored it. he adored you in return, he pulled his cock out of you before he pulled your hot body against him.

"see, good girl." he said, "i knew you'd behave for me. take me so well. that is why i hired you. and why you are going to be the mother of my children." he said with a bit more affection, but it still made your stomach twist.

you couldn't form words, but laid in his arms. his protective, almost possessive grasp on you. this was your boss, that had fucked the sense out of you. you wouldn't consider you job hard all the time, but it could be physically demanding <3

[bitchface24-7]

dude i love jayce so much it’s a problem like AHHH i wanna request sum fluff but i literally don’t care what it’s abt i js want him bro. like it can be domestic shit or like whatever LMAO i’m so bad at doing requests but i love how u write

T-T

I LIKE THE BEARD… - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: your lovely boyfriend Jayce has changed his look as he's gotten older. His hair has gotten longer, messier; and he’s grown a wonderful beard. He wants to get rid of it. You say otherwise.

warnings: Jayce is hot, fluff fluffy fluff, appreciating Jayce, Jayce getting flustered, some insecurities mentioned, pre-established relationship, man I don’t know this is fluffy self-indulgence that this anon and myself are craving, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. Y'all don't understand how happy I am that people are requesting things and just talking to me in either my asks or my comment sections in my fics. Keep it up, love ya <3

Dating Jayce is a dream come true. You two have been friends for as long as you can remember. You've had a crush on him since you were both twelve; you're breaching into your thirties now.

He's always been a massive sweetheart, willing to help anyone out, incredibly smart, funny, witty, if a bit naive with a massive tunnel vision when he's inspired.

You love him with all your heart.

This new look has you blushing like a tween again, rather than you being his partner of almost five years.

Jayce isn’t a massive fan of it.

You can see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, or scratches his heavily stubbled cheek. You know he's only putting up with it for you. And you greatly appreciate that.

Jayce has always been handsome, but this… this elevated him to a whole new level.

So when you wake up one day, the other side of the bed cold, you know exactly where he is. He's contemplating how he looks in the mirror.

Judging every supposed flaw and imperfection he sees.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You trudge your way over to the ensuite connected to your bedroom. Your hair is a mess, you quickly threw on one of Jayce's massive button downs, and you think your underwear is crooked.

With a light sniff, as you rub one of your eyes, you enter the bathroom and see Jayce; nitpicking his reflection in the mirror. His shaving kit is out. You feel a jolt of energy enter your body as your eyes widen.

“Sweetheart… what’s that?”

Jayce looks at you through the mirror and lightly shrugs, “My shaving kit. Gotta look presentable at the next council meeting.”

Your eyebrows furrow at that, “You were so proud of yourself when you first grew out your beard, then like a switch you didn't like it. What's going on in that big brain of yours?”

A sigh escapes the handsome man and his shoulders drop, “Some of the council members made comments about my new look. Something along the lines of me looking more like a ruffian than the Man of Progress.”

You want to throttle those council members.

You walk up behind Jayce, hugging his back and putting your chin on his shoulder, “Well I think you look even more handsome! You're not in your early twenties anymore Jayce. How you look and style yourself is going to change, it does for everyone! Do I still have the exact same look when I was in my early twenties?”

“No, you've changed a bit over the years.”

You run a hand through Jayce's longer hair and bring it down to his beard; the back of your hand caressing his face, “Your opinion matters most. Do you want to keep this new look, or do you want to shave it?”

Jayce looks into the mirror in a contemplative silence, before smiling at you and putting the shaving kit away.

“I like this look. Those council members can kiss my ass, they're just too lazy to make new posters and cups.”

You laugh at that, throwing your head back before kissing his shoulder. Jayce whirls you around and gives you a passionate kiss, he wraps his arms around you and lightly lifts you into the air. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

“You better, you're stuck with me for all eternity.”

You beam a grin at him, “I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, when's this meeting? Let's dress you up so nicely that those members choke on their own spit and hopefully die.”

“Babe! You can't say that!”

“Oh yes I can, they sure as shit can't hear me. We’re at home. What're they gonna do? Send in a swat team of enforcers and put me in Stillwater because I'm offended they made my wonderful, beautiful, sexy boyfriend upset! I don't think so!”

Jayce boisterously laughs as you drag him back to the bedroom, “The meeting is in about an hour and a half.”

You smirk, “Time to doll you up then.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It honestly doesn't take that long to doll up Jayce. He's always been handsome.

You pull out his killer outfit. It’s an all-black ensemble with red accents. He's always looked so scrumptious when he wears it, and he knows it.

He gets dressed, puts a small bit of pomade in his hair so it loses its frizz, and sprays on some delectable cologne. There's almost fourty minutes left until he needs to leave.

He should've gotten ready a bit later. He's so gorgeous, you're itching to get your hands on him and ruin the work you two just did.

And he knows it.

He just keeps smirking at you, his dimples popping out each time. He lightly licks his lips, he even subtly poses for you. That bitch.

You walk up to him as he appreciates himself in the mirror (as he should) and squeeze yourself in between him and the dresser, you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“Would it be so bad if you were… a little late to the meeting?”

Jayce looks at the clock on the wall, “Nah, we got time.”

Before you know it, he's picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. He quickly follows suit as you unbutton his top as he kisses your cheek and goes down to your neck.

Fuck those councillors who talked shit about your boyfriend. He's the most handsome man in the world, and you'll make sure he knows it everyday.

JAYCE WITH MESSY HAIR, A BEARD, AND THE ALL BLACK OUTFIT WAS MY DOWNFALL IN S2. WHY DID HE ONLY HAVE IT FOR O N E SCENE ISTG WHY DID THEY DO THAT?!?? PAPA ME WANT MORE MOVIE 🫴🫴