#and you still don’t want to have any connection aside from here and it’s like… idk I don’t want to be friends across a screen forever

[ghstzzn]

red haired heeseung hate sex where he keeps overstimming you until you finally squirt everywhere😁

// uhhhhhh quick CATCH!!!!! warnings: not proofread, arguing, rough sex, no prep, fingering, squirting, biting, hair pulling, scratching, spitting, clit smacking, manhandling, mentions of death & murder, unrealistic everything, every term is made up i don’t know shit about anything i made this universe up for some sex. im not labeling this as a fic, i just went insane IM SORRY wc: 3.7k

you were sure that as soon as this patrol was over, you would chokeslam the general. 

as soon as you walked towards the departure gate, you saw him. bright red hair, standing tall and cocky, always the brightest in the room. lee heeseung. and you fucking hated him.

you could see the faded red stains around his scalp, it was freshly dyed. he had a new hair color almost every month—he just had to be the center of attention. a sore sight to you. 

“soldier,” a gruff voice calls out to you. turning around, you let out a sigh and your captain holds his hand up. “save it. save your anger, save the stress. i need you in your best conditions for this run.”

“wasn’t this supposed to be a patrol?” 

he nods, taking off his leather gloves before taking a tablet from another soldier nearby. “there was a breach in the area you two were supposed to patrol.” the older male turns the device towards you.

“it’s swarmed,” you start, leaning in to study all the moving red dots. “but it’s nothing i can’t handle, general.”

“yes, i believe you can. but you’re one of my best, which is why i’m sending you with our best commander.”

“heeseung?”

the general shakes his head, “it’s commander lee to you, and you know that. i expect you to put aside any differences for this and remain professional. there are lives counting on you.”

he hands you the tablet before walking away, spitting commands at nearby hunters and soldiers.

“you know, he runs this entire place. shouldn’t you show him at least a little respect?”

you don’t even have to look behind you to know who’s talking to you.

“fuck off heeseung.”

“i believe that's commander lee to you.” he lets out a dry chuckle. “old man's words, not mine.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, hugging the tablet against your chest. “reassign me.”

“excuse me?”

“you heard me,” your blood was boiling at this point, and you couldn’t take your eyes off his obnoxious hair color which irritated you more. “i want off. trade me out.”

heeseung scoffs, hands on his hips as he looks around in disbelief. “believe me, if i could then i most definitely would. however, we all have someone above us that command us.”

“the general is your fucking grandfather, he wont care.”

“soldier.” he warns.

“i want out. reassign me.”

he’s had enough by now, his own jaw clenching every time you speak. “need i remind you what your rank is? and who i am to you?”

“i’m only a hunter because i refuse to take the rank,” you spit back. “i’ve been here longer than you.”

“damn right you’re only a hunter. which means you follow my command. not anyone else's, not your own—just mine!” 

you attempt to argue back again but he’s quick to cut you off.

“you want out? that’s fine, i’ll have you investigated and on trial for treason and failure of your duty.” heeseung steps closer to you, just inches away from your face. “like you said, i have my connections and i’ll make damn sure of it that you go down here. do i make myself clear?”

you give him a short nod. nothing more. 

“there are lives to be saved out there so i suggest you get your head out of your ass.”

it was silent in the airship, not a single sound inside and out. space was quiet enough, but not hearing a single peep from the pilots or crew made it all worse. 

you wondered why they feared heeseung so much. sure he was strong, but everyone knew you were stronger. you have to assume nepotism.

the drop off was quick and the ship was out of there in the blink of an eye, blowing dust around the two of you.

it’s still silent. almost deafening.

“do you hear me, soldier?”

you shake your head, suddenly aware of where you were. “what?”

heeseung sighs, tilting his head back. “stay close.”

the general was right, it was completely raided. wild, alien like beings crawling the floors and walls everywhere you look. this was once a safe zone, a place where you had rescued refugees. but now, it’s a warzone. almost apocalyptic.

you glance ahead at heeseung, and you could tell he felt out of place walking through this area.

sure, he was a fighter. but only when it came to wars and space battle. he was more smart than brute, which wasn’t a bad thing at all in your line of work. in fact, it was most respected out of any skill you could attain.

but he’s never been face to face with a swarm like this, especially not with such beings as this. 

“thought they’d be militants from other bases,” he mutters, “not… whatever these are.”

“some call them aliens, some use their names. i see targets.” you respond, stepping over a puddle of a foreign liquid, it’s best to avoid any type of fluid you can’t recognize with just the eye. “i know you’re used to fighting beings with a plan and a brain. creatures that are able to fall back and escape, not these.”

“you underestimate me?”

“i underestimate you and your rank.”

heeseung scoffs, pointing his light away from you, “i got here because i’m smarter than the majority of our planet. smarter than you. i run our warplans and i win them. you wouldn’t know because you refuse to use the only skill you have to lend a hand to our battles.”

“i protect our people.”

“yeah? by going on these ‘missions’? by rounding up refugees?” he mocks you. 

“the refugees that your wars leave behind.”

he smirks at that. he actually finds it funny. you shoot him a glare and heeseung shrugs in response. “i just don’t understand why you, who has the best ranking, the strongest and most agile among every soldier and hunter—yet you… what? refuse to make a name for yourself because you…?” 

“i don’t want it.” you finish his sentence for him.

“because you're selfish. because you lack respect for authority because it… remind me again,” he taps his finger against his chin. “destroys planets? splits apart families? kills innocents?”

“i wont be like them.”

“oh, save me the sob story,” heeseung groans dramatically, “poor girl got her family torn apart by some higher up ranking soldier who’s not even fucking alive anymore. seriously? get over it.”

you stop in your tracks, staring him dead in the eyes. “fuck you.”

“is that why you stay? you think helping those refugees will give you some badge of honor?”

you don’t respond to him. you physically couldn’t.

“no, please. answer me. i’m just so curious as to why you do it,” he continues to press on. “does bringing those few helpless, and i mean helpless, civilians give you some sort of morale boost?”

“shut up.”

“oh come on… you know just as well as i do that they contribute nothing to our society. our strong, most respected society that others fear. do you really think any of us give a fuck about those people? the general laughs at your pity stories—they’re just more mouths to feed.”

it all happens so fast. one second you were controlling your breathing and the next you were throwing punches at heeseung. 

he dodges, and dodges again before grabbing your wrist. “oh? you are strong.”

“stronger than you.”

“strong enough to save them?” his eyes flicker to the bodies laying on the floor. once living beings, desperate for an escape, once filled with a will to live, scattered and taking up space in the halls of the base.

you pull your wrist back, “you’re a piece of shit.”

“so, i’ve been told.” he shrugs, “but i do more for these people than you ever have in your life.”

and you snap. throwing punches, slapping and throwing yourself at heeseung in unpredictable and sloppy ways, a true reflection of your anger.

“i’m not saying this to anger you—i’m trying to help.”

you pull back your fist, panting heavily. he remained unscratched. you did underestimate him. he watches carefully as you rest your hands at your side and slides his gun back into its holster along his back.

and you both continue down the long, dark halls, once filled with life.

he was right. and it made you angry. your hands wouldn’t stop twitching and every time you looked at the bright red hair leading you down the corridors, your blood boiled the same color. 

you both enter a large lab, completely empty and far away from the lifeless bodies you had seen before. heeseung leans against a table, looking down at his feet. 

“just promote.”

you shake your head, “i can’t.”

“you aren’t betraying anybody by doing it. you’re being selfish by remaining at your rank, and you don’t even realize that you’re disposable. unimportant.”

he knew how to get under your skin. “you may be strong and fast, but you’re nothing more than just a piece of trash floating in the wind. nobody respects you.” heeseung glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “nobody listens to you because of your shitty title. don’t you want to be respected?”

“and be like you?” you step closer to him, inching towards the lab table. “i think i’d rather be thrown out, or put in prison.”

“and why’s that?” 

“you’re cocky, messy, you have no humanity. i watch as you walk all over your subordinates and crew, you treat them like dust on the shelf and you give nobody the time of day unless they can provide for you,” your voice is low, calmer than before and it makes heeseungs lips twitch in irritation. “sure, i’m disposable and nobody cares for me from inside of the base, but god do i actually have something to show for it. friends, family and a fucking personality.”

“you talk about my selfishness for not taking a promotion but you killed hundre-“

in the blink of an eye heeseung has his hand wrapped around your throat. “i deserve my spot. i did what i had to for our fucking lives.”

“you did it for a fucking title, heeseung.”

you push against his arms, freeing yourself from the chokehold he had you in. he steps back, giving you an opportunity to to kick his side, but before you could, heeseung grabs your knee, pushing you backwards and slamming you onto the table. 

“you talk too much,” he grunts in your ear, pinning you flat against the table, “come on, tell me more. tell me how much you hate me despite your constant staring when you see me around the base.”

“you’re a fucking narcissist,” you bring your hand up to slap him but he grabs your wrist, yanking it away roughly..

he tilts his head and stares down at you, a look you’ve only seen from him while analyzing his enemies shining in his eyes, “is that why i’m so turned on right now.”

heeseung digs his knee between your thighs, chuckling when you breathe out in response.

“you’re disgusting.”

“let’s not get ahead of ourselves, soldier.”

he slams his lips against yours, smiling into the kiss when you immediately respond to it, lifting your head as much as you could to deepen the kiss. you chase after his lips every time he pulls away, it was desperate and you hated that your body was betraying every word that came out of your mouth earlier.

heeseung pulls away, trailing his hand that was once gripping your jaw down your torso, gripping the zipper to your uniform and tugging it down very slowly.

“strange behavior coming from the girl who just called me a murderer,” he mutters against your jaw, “it’s funny, i really did think that you hated me.”

“i do,” you respond before bucking your hips upwards, surprising heeseung just enough to loosen his grip, in which you take as a chance to kick him away.

but you’ve always been unpredictable. you grab him by the coat and hold his body upwards before yanking it off his shoulders and down his arms. he shoots you a grin but it’s wiped off his face in less than two seconds when you use all your force to push him down to the ground.

“fuck,” he grunts out when he hits the floor with a loud thud. you straddle him immediately and yank him up by his shirt.

“i’m stronger than you.”

he chuckles, staring up into your eyes before flickering his gaze to your lips, “i’m sure you are.”

it’s like a battle of dominance, because before you could even process his words, he had you flipped under him, laying on top of the coat that you tore off his body.

“but i’m smarter,” heeseung flashes you a cocky smile, pinning your hands above your head with one hand. “and i know exactly what you want.”

he drags his finger down your bare torso, pushing aside your uniform top he had unzipped earlier. 

“one thing we have to look out for during our long, boring peace treaty meetings is body language. alien or not, everyone shows their true feelings with their body.” heeseung continues, undoing your belt with one hand.

“they ever teach you to shut the fuck up in military school?” 

in one swift movement, heeseung pulls the belt from the loops of your jeans, “oh, please. i’m the general's son. i get what i want with just my voice.”

he lets go of your wrists to tug your jeans down your thighs, wasting absolutely no time on any of this.

“you’re right about pretty much everything,” heeseung continues, yanking your jeans completely off.. “i’m a piece of shit, mean to my subordinates, to people equal to me. to everyone. i’m a commander, i command shit. i command submission.” 

leaning back over you, he lifts your knees to your chest and pushes as you grip his shoulders, pushing him back. “wheres the fight in you, soldier? don’t tell me i’m right…”

you grunt and push against his chest, “i fucking hate you.”

he slams his lips against yours with more force this time, biting and pulling at your bottom lip. your hands find themselves pulling at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up his chest with intention. heeseung leans back with a scoff and pulls it over his head before leaning back down, attacking your jaw and neck with rough, sloppy kisses and bites. 

you pull at his hair, lifting his face above yours. he grunts and grabs at your hands, “if you’re gonna fuck me then do it right.” you tell him impatiently. 

his hand comes up and grips your neck again, “anyone ever tell you that you’re a fucking bitch.”

you let out a dry laugh, causing him to shake his head in disbelief. as soon as your fingers loosen their grip on his red strands, he takes the moment to tug down his own pants, freeing his angry, dripping cock.

its heavy against your clothed cunt. your thighs squeeze together, but there was no way you were letting him have this—your submission. you attempt what you tried earlier, bucking your hips upwards, pushing your legs against him but it was near impossible with the position he put you in. 

“stop fucking moving.” he growls.

“fuck you, heeseung.”

he smacks your thigh, the sound echoing throughout your room. you wince at the feeling but it all made you throb. heeseung grips your jaw again, ignoring the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, “what’d i say earlier? it’s commander lee.”

you roll your eyes, further pissing him off. he wasted no time pushing your flimsy underwear to the side and lining his angry tip up with your fluttering hole. 

heeseung pushes in, not slow but not fast. he bottoms out, sending a sting through your cunt, traveling down your thighs. your nails rake down his chest and he lets out a loud groan.

you adjusted to his size rather quickly, the wetness between your thighs acting as a helping hand to the lack of prep he gave you beforehand. his grip doesn’t loosen on your jaw, his hips moving in slow but deep thrusts. you swallow every moan that threatens to spill from your lips, and it displeases heeseung the most.

but he doesn’t relent, only quickening the pace of his thrusts. you compensate for your lack of noise by scratching and digging into his skin, abusing the surface of his body from the roughness and pleasure he delivered. 

“this easy to get you to shut up?” heeseung grunts, slamming his hips into yours, the sound ricocheting off the walls. “where’s that mouthy low rank from earlier, huh?”

your hand comes up to grip his face, nails digging into his cheeks, then you spit. you felt victorious for a mere second until heeseung halted the movement of his hips, pulling himself out of you with haste. you take this chance to win back dominance but he beats you to it, landing a loud smack onto your clit, causing you to cry out, hips twitching for how good it felt.

“what’d i say?” heeseung mutters, anger spilling through his teeth. another slap. “you want me to show you where you belong? is that what you want?”

he slides his finger through the wetness, gathering your slick before shoving two fingers inside you. heeseung curls and pumps his fingers with no remorse, digging the palm of his hand against your clit. 

“come on, speak. respond to your commander.”

you let out a grunt, bucking your hips upwards. he was good—too good. you could already feel your stomach start to tense up with every curl of his fingers. “y-you’re not my c- fuck!”

“that’s it… i know you can do it, spit it out. it’s just a few words.” he coos, looking down at you as if you were dirt beneath his shoe. “words can’t be that hard for you, can they?”

you only respond with a whimper, biting your lip between your teeth until the skin finally breaks. heeseung watches you intently. “that’s fine.”

he speeds his hand up, spitting a wad of saliva onto your clit before using his thumb to toy with it. and that’s what breaks you the first time. your thighs tighten around his hand and you cum. hard. your hand that was once pulling at his face, now gripping and pulling at his arm as he continues to finger fuck you at a fast pace.

heeseung finally removes his fingers from you, but not before rubbing your sticky release all over your own cunt and shoving those same fingers in your mouth. 

“i wont say you obey easily, but you definitely take what’s given to you.” he taps his cock against your clif, eager to fuck you again. and so he does.

immediately pushing himself inside you and catching up to a brutal pace. your moans are muffled by his fingers, pressing over your tongue, edging your gag reflex. 

you were drunk off the pleasure, drool piling up in the corners of your mouth. his cock was knocking against your sweet spot, and your walls fluttered around him with each thrust. 

“gonna cum again? already?” 

you look up at him. the red hair dye dripping from his scalp from all the sweat. it was almost grotesque. it reminded you of what you had told him earlier—and yet, it made you clench around his cock. 

he smirks, “like what you see?” 

a grunt escapes your throat and you bite down on his fingers in response. he winces and pulls them out of your mouth, you could feel his cock twitch inside you. heeseung grips the back of your knees and pushes them up to your chest, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

the new position had him hitting spots deep inside you. the head of his cock abusing your spot deliciously. your eyes roll back, feeling a new high never felt before. 

heeseung was doing no better, though he maintained himself well. grunts and groans leaving his lips with every thrust of his hips. he was close, but he needed you there first.

and you were there. your entire body tensed up, tears rolling down your cheeks. this was unlike before. your thighs were trembling and you were pathetically reaching for anything. 

you manage to grab onto heeseungs neck with one hand, nails slicing across his neck, if you were able to focus you would be able to see the the tiniest of crimson blood peek out through the broken skin.

“that’s fucking right,” he spits, face centimeters from yours. his red stained sweat drips onto your face and chest, coloring your own skin. “fucking take it.”

your body stutters and a loud yelp spills from your lips, your release gushing out of you in the form of clear liquid, soaking the bottom half of both you and heeseung. 

a mix of a broken laugh and moan comes from heeseung, and he cums immediately. but his pace doesn’t relent, he keeps fucking you. fucking you until he hears his name spill from your lips in the form of a whiny, desperate moan.

and all of heeseungs wishes come true. 

“h-heeseung! fuck—it’s too… too much!” you cry out, body trembling from the overstimulation. 

“no… n-not quite,” he stutters out, feeling himself become more sensitive by the second. “come on—give it to me, soldier.”

your stomach tenses up again, “fuckfuckfuck!”

“almost there.”

you cum again. it wasn’t as intense as earlier, but it hits you hard. and all you could do was cry out for him, giving him exactly what he wanted. “commander please!”

and he slows his hips. moving at a soft gentle pace, riding you through all three orgasms, milking his own cock of his seed. “that’s right.”

the man you hated stole three orgasms from you in one go. it made your blood boil but your cunt flutter. 

“make it back to the airship without asking for help and you might see a reward in the near future,” he says, glancing over as you zip up your uniform. 

“also, no way in hell i’m reassigning you now.”

[cllightning81]

Firsts [OP81]

Summary: As Oliver's sister, you'd pushed your life aside to follow him around the world and be his manager in a way that you'd never experienced any of your firsts. Oscar wants to change that

Pairing/s: Oscar Piastri x Bearman!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

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You’d followed Ollie around for most of his international single-seater career. Still, now that he was moving up into F1, it was a significant jump up for Ollie, who had a couple of races previously, and with you. It came with a lot more than what you were expecting. 

Now, walking with Ollie up the red carpet for the F175 event, you weren’t sure what to expect, and Ollie was even more scared of what would happen. With it being his debut season and the debut of this type of event, everything was unknown. 

Ollie politely responded to all the questions from the interviewers as you stood to the side, silently laughing at some of the questions. ‘Who do you think will swear the most?’ had to be your favourite question from the night. 

Walking into the building with Ollie, you could see his shoulders sag slightly now that there weren’t any fans or cameras around. You smiled at him 

“Hey, well done. One down, twenty-four more to go,” You joked, and he groaned, rubbing his face, and you laughed “Sorry, Olls. You know I can’t keep this nice facade up all night,” You chuckled, following him and his PR manager into the Haas changing room. 

“Hey Y/N” Esteban smiled over 

“Evening Esteban. Enjoying your night so far?” You asked, taking a sea,t to which he shook his head 

“I’ll enjoy it more once I’ve got a drink in my system”, He joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh 

“Ollie’s barely legal, and I think he’ll be having more than I will” You laughed as Ollie looked over his face, clearly confused. The young driver hadn’t been listening to what had been said. 

An hour later, you were sitting in the crowd, smiling at Charles as he passed, clearly already fed up with this event. You couldn’t help but scroll through social media to see what the fans picked up on. Jack Whitehall’s British humour does not connect to some fans, and while you had to agree that making comments in front of the drivers wasn’t the best plan of action, it was something that people would think about.

The two drivers left the table a little earlier than their performance to get changed into their race suits for their performance. Almost biting the skin of your fingers in nerves for your younger brother so focused on the stage you didn’t notice someone sitting down next to you 

“He’ll be okay. He drives racing cars for a living. I’m sure he will be okay on stage for around five minutes” You jumped at the voice, turning your head quickly to look at who was talking to you. Letting out a breath as you saw another driver “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was coming back from the bathroom, and you looked nervous. I thought I might be able to help” He looked calm despite almost being attacked for the fright he’d just given you. 

“Next time, I suggest announcing your presence,” You suggested, to which he nodded 

“I shall consider that” He smiled as you rested your hands on the table again. 

“From my knowledge, women don’t like being scared” You couldn’t help but laugh 

“I shall also consider that. I guess it’s the older brother in me. I just like scarring my sisters,” He replied, and you turned to face him slightly 

“You’re the oldest?” You asked, and he nodded 

“Yeah. Any siblings yourself?” He asked 

“Yeah, I’m also the oldest. Then, there’s technically three teenagers” You nodded 

“Bearman, your brother?” He asked, and you nodded slightly 

“Yeah, what gave it away?” You asked, and he chuckled slightly 

“You two look alike”, he replied, and you chuckled 

“You won’t be saying that when you see Ollie and Thomas together”, you answered as the presenter announced Haas to enter the stage, which is when you started worrying again. Of course, you would. Your younger brother was about to get on stage in front of thousands in person and millions at home. 

Your knee bounced under the table as your thoughts ran a hundred miles a minute. Thinking of anything and everything that could go wrong. Maybe it was an older sister thing, or perhaps it was just anxiety. It was one thing that you’d never know. Oscar, however, sat with you throughout their performance. A comforting feature compared to how you were feeling inside. 

“I’ll see you around then” He smiled, gently squeezing your shoulder before returning to the Mclaren table. 

A few weeks later, you were back in the paddock with Ollie as you were walking through the paddock. Oscar had stopped to talk to you every time you passed, and you weren’t exactly sure how to deal with the feelings. You’d followed Ollie around for so long, ensuring that there was always an adult with him and that you paused your relationships. 

You couldn’t remember the last time someone showed interest in you as a person and not in you as Oliver Bearman’s older sister. Never mind, it is a man who wanted to get closer to you even if, at the moment, his intentions haven’t been clear to you yet. 

“How’s Ollie doing?” Oscar asked, but you could only shrug a little. His crash wasn’t easy for you to watch or for him. 

“He’s beating himself up. He thinks he should have done better. The team aren’t the happiest, but no one blames him. They see it as one of those things that just happen,” You replied. Oscar squeezed your shoulder a little 

“I get that being the older sibling makes you want to take the pain away, but remember that you can't always. Unfortunately, sometimes we just have to let them learn” He smiled sadly, and you nodded 

“Yeah, I know”, you sighed, looking towards the Haas hospitality. 

“You know where to find me if you need advice.” He smiled while walking away. 

There was almost a new feeling in your chest. One you haven't felt before, or if you had, it had been so long ago that you'd forgotten. 

Oscar seemed nice, and you wanted to get closer to him. Maybe it was a crush forming on the Aussie driver. 

Over the past couple of months, you and Oscar had started to get closer to each other, which you first thought was just as friends. 

However, Oscar wasn't as great at hiding his romantic feelings as his general feelings. 

You wouldn't lie to anyone who asked. You liked him back. The issue though? You'd never had a romantic relationship with anyone. 

Anyone who had ever shown interest soon lost it when they realised that most of the year, you were halfway around the world. Meaning that you'd never experienced any of your firsts. Even at the ripe age of 23. 

Oscar had noticed you pulling away. There were no Facetime calls when you were both at home. You weren't texting him any celebrity drama at any given moment. And the one that hurt him the most? No movie nights after a race. 

He'd tried everything to keep the relationship going, even if it was just as friends, but you kept pulling away. 

The poor driver even went as far as asking your brother if you weren't well. To which Oliver told him he wanted this to go further more than you wanted it yourself. 

You kept pulling back; however, Oscar didn’t give up, going as far as to stop you in a quiet corner of the paddock on your way out after qualifying 

“You keep pulling away”, he stated, to which you just looked at him, waiting for him to continue his point “I’m not entirely sure why you’re doing it, but if it’s something I’ve done, I would like to know.” He finished, and you looked down at the ground. 

There was a lump forming in the back of your throat. You wanted to explain, you did, but you weren’t sure you could explain without it coming off that you were just being a complete bitch because really. He did nothing wrong. 

“Can we do it somewhere else?” You asked quietly, to which Oscar nodded 

“My driver's room is empty. Or I can come to your hotel room?” He suggested 

“I’d rather not do it in the paddock, so my hotel room?” You asked, to which he nodded 

“Just text me your room number, and I’ll come over when I’m done with media”, he smiled, gently squeezing your hand before allowing you to walk away

Changing into something more comfortable, the nerves ran through your veins. What would Oscar think? Would he now pull away? Would he think you were a bitch? You thought you were being a bitch 

A knock on the door paused your thoughts; as you got up walking over, your heart rate increased. You opened the door with a foot just behind it so that if someone wanted to force their way in, they couldn’t. 

However, on the other side of the door was just Oscar. You opened the door slightly, allowing him to enter the room. 

“Nice room” He smiled, and you looked around with a little shrug 

“It does for the weekend”, You replied as you sat down on the bed 

“I will leave as soon as you want me to; however, I’d like you to hear me out. Your brothers say you’re a good listener” He sat down on the chair, and you nodded 

“I can be when I want to be”, you replied, and he smiled slightly 

“After speaking to Ollie, I understood you a little more, even from a distance. Pushing your own life aside so he can follow his dreams. No matter how much it affected you. I now understand that’s why you’ve been pushing me away because, in your mind, it’s all about Ollie’s career and not your own” You shrugged a little 

“I’m his manager at this point. It’s my career. It keeps me going,” You replied 

“But he also told me that you also pushed anyone who wanted to have a relationship with you, which is why you pushed me away” You looked over at Oscar 

“That little snitch” You muttered. Oscar let out a breathy laugh “He might not be exactly wrong; however, I also didn’t like those guys who tried to date me. They either didn’t understand that I had to travel with Oscar, or they were just dicks” You replied with a shrug 

“Well, I’d like to think I’m neither of those. I like you, Y/N, and I know it’s only been a couple of months; however, I’m hoping you feel the same and may give me a chance?” He asked 

You were nervous, of course, you were, but Oscar also seemed like a good guy who, much like you, enjoyed your privacy and cared about his family 

“I’ll give you a trial period”, You joked, a small smile appearing on your face 

“I’ll take it. I’ll take anything!” He exclaimed, and you laughed a little, head dropping down as a blush formed on your cheeks 

“I was only joking about the trial period; however, I might have had no firsts, but I do have standards of not being asked out in the cheap hotel rooms Haas pay for” You smiled, and he nodded 

“An expensive Mclaren sponsor hotel room?” Oscar joked, to which you thought about it for a moment before shrugging your shoulders with a slight tilt of your head 

“Do they have good room service?” You asked, to which it was now his turn to shrug 

“I’ve never ordered it. My trainer makes up my meals for the weekend to make sure I don’t have too many cheat meals” You rolled your eyes at his confession 

“Obiously Mr Athelete doesn’t make his own meals or even order room service” You joked and he laughed 

“Why don’t you come over and try the room service?” He asked and you tilted your head a little. Sit in your room alone or join the innocent looking polite cat sitting opposite you in his hotel room. The options seemed so far apart but at the same time so close. 

You liked Oscar. You’d been talking to him through text and on Facetime for a couple months you trusted him. Why wouldn’t you? 

“Okay let’s go test your fancy room service” You smiled 

A few months later Ollie was jumping around you after your confession that you and Oscar were now together. 

You didn’t want to tell him before the race however it just slipped out in conversation that you had a date with your boyfriend and then after that you couldn’t stay quiet any longer. 

It was safe to say that Ollie liked having Oscar as a brother in law so when you and Oscar were walking through the paddock holding hands your younger brother couldn’t keep his excitement to himself sharing it with the rest of the rookies. 

Antonelli who was a very close friend of the family was also very excited to find out the news. Ollie and Kimi bothering you at any given moment was something that you’d grown used to at this point. 

Oscar however didn’t exactly know what to do when the two rookies joined you both in your hotel room when you were sat cuddling. You however just let them bounce about the place like little puppies until they became so tired that they basically fell asleep on the floor 

“Oh wow” Oscar muttered and you chuckled 

“You grow used to it” You smiled and he nodded slightly

Tag List

@molten-m122 , @thewannabewriter , @lozzamez3 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @hiireadstuff , @mxdi0 , @f1kenzzz , @evie-119 , @ahgase99 , @velcosainz , @talksoprettyjjx , @yllomhej , @scarletwidow3000 , @thegrapejuiceblues1982 , @tellybearryyyy , @zabwlky1999 , @xxx-betty , @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 , @lwstuff , @destinyg237 , @glitzyditsy , @chuckpiboli , @sltwins , @randomf1fan , @myloverjk , @lilymurphy03 , @rqlstefanny @luca-fantilli63 , @alex-wotton , @tpqkstiles , @maymustdie , @formula1-motogpfan , @geniusalpaca , @sophiacalabrese , @alice-went-away , @lurv4miya , @norstappenvibes , @somerandomf1fan , @teti-menchon0604 , @devilacot , @mynameisangeloflife , @widow-cevans , @callsignwidow , @chocolatepoetryfun

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

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

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

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

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

[gb-patch]

GB Patch Games: Sensitivity Reader Update

Okay, well I am able to make another statement before Rose does. I can now explain much more easily why I didn’t fire Rose. There’s been new developments with the leakers. The people behind this have doxed Rose’s discord account (please don’t go looking for it) and also shared a screenshot of an email that was sent to my support address months ago. They believe that incriminates us somehow, but really all it’s done is shown in broad daylight what they were doing and why I was defending Rose so much. If I had brought up that email as a connection to this myself people understandably would’ve thought I was making a conspiracy.

However, it is out now. Here is the story- a few months ago someone who wanted to remain anonymous sent me an email with a screenshot where Rose called me a cracker. And I told them I appreciated the concern but it’s alright, was there evidence of Rose being unkind to players? They had nothing. No response.

As an aside, yes, I have been aware for a long time that Rose uses crude language when talking about me. That doesn’t mean I’ve hidden how evil they were from players. It means I’m allowed to choose what I’m comfortable with. That original “reveal” didn’t shock or upset me in any way. Our Life is a sensitive, wholesome game, but I’m a full-grown adult. I’m not innocent or pure. The game I released before OL is XOXO Blood Droplets. Something I wrote and released to the public is full of crude jokes, curse words, and violence. It’s cartoonish and comical, but edgy. Rose themselves likes to BS with bad words and I’m not accepting abuse because I think getting called a pussy is funny. I know Rose doesn’t hate me or wish me any harm. Rose also isn’t causing “discourse” for me and my games on purpose, they were joking that bringing up serious topics is “discourse” to some people. Ironically, the leakers who did this are trying to make some “discourse” on purpose.

Regardless, I initially thought that email was from someone earnestly worried for me and that they moved on when it was clear I was fine. But that’s not what happened. Them and at least one other person have been waiting for months to bring this up again. They went through almost a year’s worth of Rose’s private posts to collect as many unflattering screenshots as they could, and then they didn’t send them to me. They posted them publicly. I had a suspicion from the get go that it was the same person/people from before who couldn’t prove anything to me in private. And if true, how horrible is it that a bunch of the comments they shared were crude language towards me, something they already knew I’d brush off as nothing. They decided for me that it was wrong and they wanted the rest of the players to do the same. Or even less charitably, those extra posts were simply there to make Rose look as bad and untrustworthy as possible and they didn’t care that I was comfortable with it. I could not explain everything we were thinking/feeling at first, but behind the scenes we were discussing how this was personally motivated and not a knee-jerk act without forethought. And we do know for certain at least the main people involved now, and they do have personal issues with Rose.

Also, if you still believe that they just wanted to help the game at any length because Rose is that huge of a risk, showing that email and framing something innocuous about me (not fainting at the word “cracker” and politely being open to more proof) as serious “evidence of wrongdoing” at GB Patch Games makes me believe they want to smear Rose so bad they’ll try to turn players against me as well. Plus, the post is framed as “this email was anonymously sent to me”, but we know from account details that the people who could’ve gotten those screenshots of the discord and email are the same people who sent that email and started this situation, which is embarrassing. I’ve confirmed the screenshots shared in the email to me and the original public post came from the same private, “venting-safe” discord server. There’s very few people in there. We know it’s still you and not a separate source. I can’t prove they think I’m stupid or in their way, but I can’t see how anything they’re doing is trying to be beneficial to the creation of OL: NF. They told me in the email they’d give me more evidence if I requested it and I was ready to know, but instead they went silent for months and then did this.

I want it to be clear that this doesn’t mean players can’t wonder if Rose has enough experience to be a sensitivity reader right now, or to worry they’re so invested in the game that it’s going to effect how objective they are with their feedback, or to say that Rose is flawless and has never done anything hurtful. However, I hope you can understand why I was on Rose’s side and couldn’t just fire them over this. It felt so incredibly unfair. If another person tries to get their way by doing this in the future, I will not hail them as a hero and immediately fire at the target. And I don't tolerate any racial harassment of any kind to anyone on my team.

If those people want to continue to share Rose’s private posts in retaliation, you can fuck off. If you somehow reveal now that Rose is secretly a murderer, I’m not gonna apologize and say I was so wrong about you. If you had tons of evidence of Rose being horrible to players, you should’ve sent it all to me and with full context to begin with in the email like you offered to do. I just don’t understand.

Any players who like to see someone’s least flattering points portrayed in the worst possible way and continue flocking to the leaks as fandom drama, I don’t want you in this fandom. I don’t want you to enjoy my games.

Anyone who has been truly hurt by this and are left confused and angry, I do completely understand that. I didn’t know how to handle this, and it made a lot of people not know how to keep trusting me. I am still looking into getting a community manager to help me better communicate with players, especially when something serious happens. And I’ll always be around for you to reach out to if you have doubts about anything.

[ramp-it-up]

... As Hard as I Did

Photo credit

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Now he knows he wants more than just one night with you, so much more. Do you feel the same?

Word count: 1.9K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic is connected to the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after KYD IV, but I feel it can be read as a stand alone. It is in answer to this ask. Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run is making me feral. I can write these two ALL DAY!!!! Y'all are gonna have to deal with this for a while, sorry not sorry.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Bucky is in love. The angst! The fluff! The morning after! Bucky wakes you up the best way he knows how, thorough female receiving oral sex, edging, manual sex, teabagging, squirting, nipple play, begging, use of Daddy, bukakke, cum play, Bucky cooks for you, google translate Romanian, the "L" word, allusions to cock riding.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

James Bucky Barnes had slipped and fallen in love.

Steve was so right.

It came out of the blue last Monday when he met with you about a painting, and here he was the very next Sunday morning, holding you in his arms. The ruse of him being a fully legitimate art dealer and not a crime boss had been quickly done away with by the media and your friends, and the fantasy of wooing you met the reality that you did not come to play.

You called Bucky on his bullshit and that made him fall even harder for you. He was honest about his plan to go legit and careful with your feelings, not immediately turning to physicality as he did with every other woman. There was something special about you that was worth the wait.

The five days had been an eternity for both of you, and Bucky had been like a teenager, unable to last very long. He was determined to set that right today, and also to tell you how he felt.

Bucky Barnes knew very little fear, but wondering if you returned his feelings was shaking him to the core.

He held to his original dream of making you smile at him forever, but those dreams had grown to thoughts of a life together, a home you could build together, and the thought of what kids together might look like.

Bucky smiled and held you closer as you snuggled deeper into his embrace and threw your leg over his hip. He caressed the soft skin of your thigh as he argued with himself. He was too old for this; he would be an old man when your kids were just going to college, but that didn’t stop him from making Steve go with him to Cartier yesterday after your event.

Steve grumbled, but he was still smitten with you from his conversation with you yesterday, so he didn’t protest the 5 carat purchase that Bucky made. His best friend just asked Bucky some pertinent questions like:

Had Bucky told you that he loved you?

Did you love him?

Did you even want to get married? To a criminal?

Did you want to have kids with Bucky?

Bucky just stared at Steve, creating the opportunity to goad him.

“But all that aside. If you don’t lock her down, I just might. I’ll close the deal swiftly.”

That left Bucky’s blood to boil while he prepared for dinner last night, but when he opened the door and saw you standing there, every negative vibe left his vicinity.

And now, you were here, warm and beautiful, and naked, in his grip. He was going to take full advantage of the few hours you might gift him today. He didn’t want to risk you running away after he told you his feelings.

He lifted your thigh and positioned himself most where he needed to be.

—--

You moaned in your sleep. You dreamed that Bucky was eating you out again, but you couldn’t quite feel his kisses and slurps to your folds, only whispers of sensation, like air. It was so frustrating, so you grabbed Buckys’ hair and scratched his scalp, trying to encourage him to be rougher.

He moaned and you smiled, calling his name.

“James, please….”

Your eyes fluttered open to the unfamiliarity of Bucky’s bedroom in the morning light. Your legs were spread wide and Bucky’s head was pillowed on your thigh, his hot breath teasing your pussy. 

“What are you doing?”

You looked down to see him staring at your most intimate parts and smiling.

“Mmmm. Good morning Frumoasă. I’m about to check an item off my long list of what I want to do to you…”

He pursed his lips and softly kiss your lower ones. You shivered and continued playing in his hair. You laughed, music to Bucky’s ears. He smiled up at you.

“Oh, so you have a list, do you?”

“Yes, an extensive one at that. I will show you later, but right now…”

Bucky moved to kneel and shoved his hands under your ass, serving you up to him as on a platter. His eyes moved from your fluttering cunt up your soft belly and your beautiful breasts to your face. He leaned forward to give you a sound smack on the lips.

“I was wondering if I was going to get a good morning kiss.”

That eyebrow arched and he moved down your body again.

“That’s all in my plan, Frumoasă. Just be patient. ”

You pulled Bucky’s hair as his long, thick tongue licked through you to your soul. You shuddered and Bucky smiled, then those lips took hold of your clit and sucked ruthlessly as he brought one hand up to push two fingers inside you, the squelch of your wetness so gloriously obscene. He stopped and just pumped those fingers inside you, listening.

“Hear how wet you are for me? It’s a dream come true.”

You reached with grabby hands for him to stimulate your clit as all he did was fuck you with his fingers and hold you open for him. You were on the edge of madness. And it seemed that was where Bucky wanted you.

“Jamie….”

“Atât de nerăbdătoare Frumoasă. savurați momentul.”

Somehow, you knew he was telling you to wait. 

“Please, please, please James. Eat your pussy please!”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back into his head. You begging was his weakness, what he wanted to hear from since day one. Then he realized what you’d said.

“... Did you say… that this pussy was mine?”

You smirked at him, feeling the brat.

“Maybe…”

Bucky frowned and slapped your clit, causing sparks of pain and pleasure to roll up your spine and wetness to gush out over his fingers.

“Ow! Yes! Yes! This pussy is yours, Daddy, please eat it.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and his cock, which was hard against his abdomen, jumped.

“Seems you know the magic words, Frumoasă.” 

Bucky rewarded you with his mouth clamped over your clit and his eyes locked on yours as you watched his tongue working in his jaw. He was eating you out like a professional. You arched into his face, clit hart and throbbing, ready to give him…

He pulled away as you gasp/screamed in outrage, then whimpered and pouted.

“Please Daddy!”

“Oh, you’re ruining me, I can tell. But tell me, Frumoasă, tell me…”

He regarded you now with a new possessiveness. Impossibly, it made you wetter.

“What else of yours is mine?”

You squirmed under his attention and he rewarded you with another finger in your cunt and all three curled against that electric spot within you.

“What about this ass?”

His pinky bullied into your tighter hole, and you arched as he leaned down to suck your clit like saltwater taffy.

“Oh shittttttt! Yes! Fuck yessss.”

Bucky was grinding his cock against the sheets now, possessed by the sight, taste, and feel of you in his hands. He could actually taste that you were close now, and he wanted it almost as much as you did, but he abandoned you again. He looked up at your body.

“What about those glorious tits?”

He reached up to pluck both of them of them ruthlessly over and over as he continued to finger fuck you. His breath was ragged and his face a mask of desire, but he still had a modicum of control.

“They are next on my list.”

“W-what do you mean?” 

You were thrilled and scared at the same time.

“Nu-ți face griji pentru ea frumos, doar ai răbdare.”

And his face was busy again between your legs, which were shaking around his ears. He held one down with one hand as he fucked you with the other.

“Shit, Daddy! I’m gonna….fuck! I’m gonna…”

Bucky nodded and looked up at you, then he told you to cum with his fingers and you shattered, gushing into his mouth and all over his bed.

Bucky leaned up and groaned as he played in your wetness, using that hand to begin to jack himself over your shuddering body.

“Can I come all over you, Frumoasă?”

“Yes, Daddy…”

Bucky groaned and then manhandled your nipples.

“Cum all over me, Jamie.”

Then he roared as you moved so that you could suck his balls.”

“Holy, shhhhhhitttttttt!”

You were circling your own clit as the first hot drops of his cum sprayed over your already heated body. You came one more time as he focused on your breasts and left a hot, sticky mess all over you.

Your eyes were closed as your shivered because Bucky’s hot mouth was sucking his spend off your nipples. He alternated between kisses, bites, and laps against your skin.

“James! Gotdamn! I–”

“I know, I know, Frumoasa. But I can’t get enough...suportă-mă, iubito…”

—---

Later that Sunday, around noon, you sat, twice showered, marked, edged, and fucked to within an edge of your life as you ate the brunch that Bucky made you. You were ensconced in one of his plain white tee shirts and some of his boxer briefs and socks, and he was looking at you hungrily.

You laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Bucky smirked, happier than he’d been in a good while.

“Do you want more…?”

Despite the debauched things you’d spent the morning doing, you blushed and looked down at your plate. You felt like a slut. But in a good way. You loved sex with Bucky. It seemed like even his pleasure was focused on you. It was unlike any other relationship you’d ever had.

“I’m sorry. Do you regret it?”

Bucky stopped eating and tipped your head up by your chin with his fingers. He looked worried and you melted. You bit your lip and decided to go for it.

“No. Because I love you.”

Bucky’s fork clattered to his plate and his eyes grew wide while your bright smile faded. Then he frowned.

“Fuck.”

He looked mad.

“I- I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s too soon. I’m sorry, just forget that I said that.”

“No! Shit…”

Bucky grabbed your head and kissed you, the strawberries and cream from the waffles flooding your senses as his tongue found yours. When he was done, he grinned at you.

“I was pissed for a second, but not at you. What you just said is all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that I love you, too and here you are, saying it first.”

You rolled your eyes, although your soul soared. You pulled away and took another bite of food.

“It’s not a competition, James.”

You said it through a full mouth.

“Hmmmm. Maybe not. But I do love you more.”

He took another, bigger bite of food and you shook your head at him.

“You are insufferable.”

Bucky grinned.

“Get used to it if you’re gonna be my girl.”

“Your girl? Oh?”

Bucky wiped his mouth, then picked you up and placed you on his lap.

“Y/N L/N. I love you. And I want to figure this thing out between us. I want you to be my girlfriend while I figure out how to be the best man for you. Then maybe… “

You stopped him with your finger on his lips.

“Listen. One step at a time, Jamie. I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes. You are the best man for me. My man. I’m along for the ride.”

Bucky kissed you, then stood up and threw you over his shoulder as he moved to his couch.

“Speaking of riding. There’s my list to attend to.”

You screamed and laughed as Bucky slapped your ass. 

——

Next part Here!

All feedback is golden, babies! Let me know how you feel. ✨

[nanamineedstherapy]

The Cruelty of Time

Nanami Kento x F!Reader, Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x F!Reader

Summary: Nanami/Gojo/Sukuna always know when something is wrong. He gives you space. He waits. But patience only lasts so long when the woman he adores refuses to speak. If words won’t do, he has other ways of making you talk. (All men get their separate parts & have different readers, but the plot is connected, so it's recommended to read all.) Trigger Warnings: Fluff & SMUT (MDNI), Porn with feelings (because he cares), Four-Armed True Form Sukuna, Someone taps out mid-sexy time, Mirror show-off moment, Enthusiastic consent, Sukuna’s a menace, not a villain, Someone is possessive but in a feminist way, Sexy age crisis, Slow descent into madness (yours, not his), Nanami is the firmest soft dom, Gojo is fleeing for his life, Canon-typical patience, canon-untypical restraint, You won’t talk? They have other methods, Nanami & Gojo are problems, Gojo & Sukuna are societal threats. Kinks: Praise, Choking, Voice, Spanking, Manhandling (effective, controlled, ruining-you edition), A/N: Listen. There are two types of people in this world: 1. People who read JJK men's fics because they appreciate the depth of the character. 2. People who read JJK men's fics because they want to be handled. This fic is for the latter. As always, the reader can be hallucinated as any race or body type, no explicit descriptions have been used, but all men have different readers, and no, you are not allowed to double time them. I, too, am just a girl, standing in front of a fictional salaryman, begging him to fix me with violent backshots. Enjoy responsibly. Or don’t. I support all life choices here.

Nanami Kento x F!Reader

The sound of the front door clicking shut was soft, barely disrupting the quiet hum of the kitchen. But Nanami noticed immediately.

He didn’t look up right away, finishing the precise cut of the knife against the cutting board before setting it aside. The scent of miso soup and grilled fish filled the air, warm and inviting.

Yet, something felt off.

You hadn’t come running to him like you usually did.

He wiped his hands on a towel, finally turning toward the entrance.

Standing in the doorway, your shoulders slightly hunched, the usual brightness in your gaze absent. You didn’t even remove your shoes right away, just lingered there, fingers toying with the strap of your bag.

Nanami set the towel down.

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice steady, but his sharp gaze didn’t miss the way you avoided his eyes. “Is something wrong?”  

You hesitated for just a second—so quick an average person wouldn’t have caught it—before forcing a small, practiced smile. “No, it’s nothing. Just… a long day.”

A deflection.  

Nanami exhaled silently, slow and measured, before stepping toward you. His presence was grounding, solid, and when he reached out to cup your face, his touch was warm, his thumbs grazing your cheeks with quiet insistence.  

“Tell me.”  

Your lips parted, and for a moment, he thought you might actually say it.

But then you shook your head, slipping from his grasp with a tired laugh. “It’s nothing, really.”  

Nanami didn’t believe that for a second. He knew you too well.

But he let you go—for now.  

However, Nanami Kento was nothing if not patient.

He watched you carefully.

During dinner, he served your plate first. When you barely picked at the food, he refilled your miso soup, watching for any reaction.

You still wouldn’t talk.  

On the couch, he pulled you against him, resting a hand on your thigh, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. Your body melted into his, but you were quiet, too quiet.  

Fine. If you weren’t going to tell him, he’d make you.  

Nanami played his last card when you were pinned beneath him, his body braced above yours, his eyes searching yours with quiet, unwavering intensity. The weight of him was grounding, solid, leaving no room to escape. His fingers traced up your arm, slow, deliberate.  

You cracked.  

“A 14-year-old called me ‘aunt’ today.” Your voice wavered, as if the confession itself made the words more real. You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. “Kento, am I… old?”  

Nanami stared at you, processing your words. 

Then, to your utter horror, he chuckled—a deep, quiet sound, barely more than a breath but unmistakable. “That’s what’s been bothering you?”

Your mouth fell open.  

You slapped his chest, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he murmured, and that rare, faint smile of his appeared, brief but devastating.  

You groaned, cheeks heating. “You’re terrible.”

“Hardly,” he said, voice still laced with amusement, but his expression was already shifting, darkening. His fingers traced a slow line down your side, over the curve of your waist, before gripping your hip in a way that made heat pool low in your belly. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.  

“If you really need a reminder of how desirable you are, I can oblige.”  

The change in the air was instant.  

Before you could fully process what was happening, Nanami flipped you onto your stomach. The movement was smooth, practiced, possessive. 

A gasp escaped your lips, your pulse spiking as he pressed his weight against your back, his breath ghosting over your ear.  

“Take off your clothes.”  

His voice was calm—but absolute.  

A shiver ran down your spine, anticipation coiling hot in your stomach. Your fingers trembled slightly as you fumbled with the button and zipper of your pants. He didn’t help—not at first. He just watched, letting the tension build, his fingers grazing over your wrists as if testing your obedience.  

When you finally rid yourself of them, he took over. His hands—broad, warm, possessive—skimmed down your thighs, taking his time. Then, with no warning, he smacked your ass—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you jolt.  

Your breath hitched.  

“Good,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Now stay just like that.”  

Nanami never rushed.  

And tonight would be no exception.  

His touch was deliberate, exploring every inch of you, his fingertips mapping out the places he already knew by heart. He traced the curve of your spine, following it with his lips, leaving a path of heat that made your stomach tighten.  

Then his hands found your breasts, locking them firmly in his broad forearms. The warmth of his palms, the slow drag of his fingers over sensitive skin—it was intoxicating.  

You arched instinctively, but his grip only tightened.  

“Stay still,” he murmured. His voice was low, gravelly, commanding. A quiet promise of what was to come.  

A sharp contrast to the way he leaned down, pressing his chest against your back, his body so warm, so solid behind you. The heat of his skin bled through the thin fabric of his unbuttoned shirt. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, his breath slow and controlled, sending another shiver down your spine.  

“You’re so beautiful like this.” His voice was husky, confident. “All spread out for me.” 

There was a smirk in his tone, but beneath it—something darker. Something that made your stomach coil tight with anticipation.  

His hands slid lower, tracing the dips and curves of your body, learning you all over again.

He was taking his time, savoring the moment, building the tension until you were left trembling beneath him, aching, waiting, wanting.

And Nanami Kento never left you wanting for long.

His fingers trail between your thighs, slow, deliberate, teasing the sensitive skin there. The warmth of his touch lingers, each stroke purposeful as he explores the softness of your inner thighs, coaxing shivers from your skin.

Then—contact. A jolt of pleasure snaps through you as Nanami's fingers find your slick folds. He starts gentle, the press of his fingertips measured, exploratory, before circling your clit with practiced precision. His strokes grow more confident, more insistent, like he's testing how much you can take before you unravel.

“K… Ken…” Your breath shudders as you moan his name, eyes fluttering shut when he pushes a finger inside you, slow. The stretch is just enough to make your thighs clench, your body arching into his touch.

His lips brush your ear, his voice a low murmur laced with quiet control. "You're so wet… so ready for me."

You don’t know if it’s ovulation or if he’s using his technique, but your body responds like you’ve been set alight. The heat is unbearable, a raw, urgent need that coils tight in your core. By the time he adds a third finger, you're trembling, barely able to keep yourself upright.

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, his tone rough with restraint. "Let go. Let me make you feel good."

His fingers move faster, precise and unrelenting, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. His other hand finds your chest, rolling and flicking your nipple between his fingers, sending sparks of sensation straight to where you need him most. His mouth follows, lips dragging over your neck, sucking bruises into your skin, marking you as his. His soft blond hair falls over his forehead, half-shielding the dark intensity of his gaze.

The world beyond him dissolves. There's only his touch, his voice, the deep, aching need he ignites in you. And then—you're falling. Your body tightens, pleasure cresting and breaking in waves so powerful they leave you shaking.

Nanami doesn’t stop. He rides out your high, drawing every last pulse from your body until you slump forward, spent. But you barely have time to catch your breath before his fingers start moving again, slow but purposeful, building you up all over again.

This time, it's brutal—your second orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body wrung dry from the intensity of it. Your moan is near-silent, choked by the sheer force of pleasure as you convulse around his fingers.

His arms wrap around you before you can collapse completely, holding you firm against his chest, his voice a quiet, reverent murmur. "You're so beautiful when you come." His hands slide up your trembling form before he tilts your chin, forcing your gaze toward the large mirror in front of you. "Look."

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you see yourself—your skin flushed, lips swollen, body still trembling from his touch. And behind you, Nanami watches with dark, unreadable eyes, his presence imposing even in his quiet control.

“I could watch you all day.” He smirks against your skin.

The sharp click of his belt unbuckling cuts through the heavy silence. Your breath hitches. He moves unhurriedly, the rustle of fabric deliberate, almost taunting. Every sound, every movement is calculated restraint, meant to drive you mad with anticipation.

And then—you feel him. Hard and insistent against your hips, the heat of him searing even before he presses against your entrance.

His hands grip your hips, firm, grounding. The weight of his body blankets you, keeping you caged, controlled. The blunt pressure of his tip has your breath catching in your throat. He doesn’t push in—he waits.

"Tell me you want this," he murmurs, voice dark, edged with command.

Your fingers dig into the couch armrest, knuckles white. "I want it," you breathe, trembling. "I want you, Kento."

That’s all he needs.

His hips roll forward, pushing into you with devastating slowness. The stretch is exquisite—just shy of overwhelming—but you take it, back arching as you adjust to the fullness of him.

Nanami groans, deep and guttural, his hands tightening on your hips as he sinks in fully. "So tight," he mutters, voice strained. "Like I don’t stretch you open every night."

His first thrust is measured, testing, but the next is harder, dragging a sharp gasp from your lips. His hands slide up your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades as he leans over you, chest pressing flush against your back. When his lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your spine, he bites down, leaving a mark that has you gasping his name.

"Kento," you cry, voice breaking as he angles deeper, hitting that spot that makes you see white. "Please—"

“Please what?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against your ear. He knew exactly what he was doing, his thrusts becoming more purposeful, each one driving you closer to the edge. “Tell me.”

“Faster,” you begged, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch. “Harder.”

He obliged without hesitation. One hand fisted in your hair, the other pressing between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the couch cushions as his pace turned brutal. The force of his thrusts sent shocks of pleasure rippling through you, each movement deliberate, punishing, like he was staking his claim all over again.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, obscene and rhythmic, punctuated by the ragged gasps you barely managed to choke out and the low, guttural groans spilling from his lips. His hands slid back to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he fucked you like he needed you to break for him.

Then the angle shifted—deep, perfect—and the pleasure was blinding. You cried out, body convulsing as he found that devastating spot inside you, his pace relentless.

“You feel that?” His voice was thick with control, rough with need. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit with ruthless precision, making your legs quake. His free hand slid up, wrapping around your throat, tilting your head back just enough for his lips to graze the shell of your ear.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice dark, velvety, commanding. “Let go for me.”

You couldn’t hold back if you tried. The pleasure coiled and snapped, tearing through you with a force that left you boneless. Your body clenched tight around him, pulling him deeper, and the curse of a man above you groaned, his rhythm faltering for half a second before he recovered, his grip tightening, dragging you through every last pulse of your orgasm.

But he wasn’t done.

He set a relentless pace, his thrusts deep, deliberate, designed to unravel you. You were lost to sensation, barely able to form words. Every nerve in your body burned with overstimulation, but Nanami was merciless, pushing you higher and higher, refusing to let you fall too soon.

“Kento—” Your voice broke, a plea tangled in your breathless moans. “I—I can’t—”

“You can.” His growl rumbled through you, dark and certain. “And you will.”

His grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you back to meet each thrust. You sobbed his name, your body trembling as he dragged you to the edge over and over, refusing to let you fall until he decided you were ready. The pleasure was unbearable, exquisite, a slow, torturous build that left you on the brink of madness.

Then, finally—he let you break.

You shattered, your body seizing around him as another orgasm crashed through you, this one harder, more intense, leaving you trembling, gasping, undone.

Nanami wasn’t far behind.

His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, more desperate as he chased his own release. His breath turned ragged, his grip bruising as he buried himself to the hilt, a guttural groan spilling from his lips as he spilled inside you, the heat of it sending another shudder through your already-wrecked body.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air. Then, slowly, Nanami leaned over you, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips warm, reverent.

He pulled out, a sharp exhale leaving him as he collapsed beside you, gathering you against his chest before you could even think to move. His arms locked around you, his presence solid, grounding. Against your back, you felt the steady thud of his heartbeat, slow, measured, as if he had all the time in the world to hold you.

“You’re not old,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “And you’re certainly not an ‘aunt.’” He tilted your chin, making sure you were looking at him. “You’re beautiful. And you’re mine.” His fingers brushed over your cheek, his touch achingly gentle compared to the way he’d just wrecked you. “Don’t ever forget that.”

A sleepy, satisfied smile tugged at your lips. “You’re just saying that because you’re biased.”

“Maybe.” His lips twitched into that rare, fleeting smile—the one only you ever got to see. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, utterly spent, you couldn’t help but think—maybe, just maybe, being called ‘aunt’ wasn’t so bad after all. Not when Nanami Kento was there to remind you exactly how wanted, how completely his you really were.

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

The front door clicked shut. Soft, nearly imperceptible under the hum of the TV and the distant rustling of Gojo Satoru digging through the pantry like a gremlin.

But he noticed immediately.

Not because he had superhuman reflexes (though, yeah, he did), but because you didn’t call out to him.

Usually, you’d beeline straight for him, drape yourself across the couch with a dramatic groan, and demand cuddles or snacks—sometimes both, depending on the severity of the day’s atrocities. But today?

You just stood there, fingers toying with the strap of your bag, expression unreadable.

Gojo poked his head out from the kitchen, a bag of chips in one hand and a smug grin already forming. “Baaaaabe,” he drawled. “Did you know that if you stare into the void long enough, it starts staring back?”

Nothing.

No laugh, no eye roll. Not even a scoff.

His grin faltered. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said immediately. Too immediately.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “That’s suspicious. That’s weird.”

You huffed, kicking off your shoes with more force than necessary. “I’m fine, Satoru.”

“You’re lying.” He was on you in an instant, looming at full height, his ridiculous socks skidding across the floor as he stopped right in your path. “I always know when something’s wrong.”

He bent forward, tilting his head to meet your eyes. His infinity wasn’t even on, but it still felt like there was no space between you. Just him—his scent, his warmth, the weight of his attention, all-consuming.

“Tell me.”

You pushed past him. “No.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like you’d shot him. “What do you mean ‘no’?! I’m your husband! Your best friend! Your confidant, your one true love, your designated carrier of heavy objects—”

“I said it’s nothing,” you repeated, brushing past him to drop your bag onto the couch.

Gojo flopped down beside you, head immediately landing on your lap, limbs sprawling like a crime scene outline. “Fine,” he said, draping an arm across his face. “I’ll just die then.”

You ignored him.

For the next hour, he tried everything.

Subtle tactics (brushing your hair back, murmuring “soft little baby, tell me” in that unbearably sweet voice).

Not-so-subtle tactics (poking your cheek repeatedly until you looked at him).

Absolute war crimes (pulling out his phone and putting on the loudest, most obnoxious COD edits, even though he hated when you watched those).

But you were a fortress, a damn vault, giving him nothing but the occasional glare.

That was fine. Gojo loved a challenge.

He ramped it up—followed you to the kitchen, caging you against the counter with his arms. Then to the bedroom, sprawled across the bed, legs kicking like a toddler. Then the bathroom, where he straight-up sat on the floor outside the door.

“Y’know,” he said through the wood. “Consumerism has ruined women’s self-confidence. It’s criminal. Devastating. Society has—”

“Satoru, I swear to God—”

“Six-foot-three, by the way.”

You whipped open the door and smacked him with a towel.

“Hey!” he laughed, shielding himself. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes!”

And still, he persisted.

It wasn’t until he had you pinned against the bed, his weight pressing down, his hands bracing on either side of your head, that you finally cracked.

“A kid called me auntie today.”

Gojo blinked.

You stared up at him, mouth pressing into a thin line. “A 14-year-old kid, Satoru.” You swallowed hard, voice a little smaller now. “Am I… old?”

Gojo’s face went blank.

Then—

Then—

He wheezed.

Laughter exploded out of him, so sudden and uncontrollable he practically fell off you, rolling onto his back, clutching his stomach.

“Oh my God—”

You sat up, glaring. “Satoru—”

“Babe—” He gasped for air, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, babe, no—”

He didn’t get to finish.

You were already off the bed, marching to the kitchen.

His laughter died real fast when you returned with a wooden spoon, gripping it with murderous intent.

“Wait—WAIT—”

But you were on him, swinging with the precision of a seasoned warrior (Yaga).

Gojo scrambled, dodging like his life depended on it, flailing as you chased him around the apartment.

“You think this is funny?!” Smack.

“OW—BABE—” Smack.

“Satoru, I swear to GOD—” Smack.

“SORRY BABE, PLEASE—”

Somewhere between the third and fourth swing, Gojo finally caught the spoon, twisting it from your grip and flipping you onto the bed.

The air shifted instantly, thick with tension.

His weight pinned you, trapping you beneath him, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He leaned in, breath warm against your ear, his voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper. “You wanna know what I think?”

You swallowed, body burning from the chase—and now, from something else entirely.

“I think,” he murmured, fingers trailing down your sides, slipping beneath your shirt with a tantalizing slowness, “that you’re fucking gorgeous.”

A shiver ran through you as heat coiled low in your stomach, intensifying under his touch.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart with infuriating ease, hiking your skirt up just enough to send your heart racing. “You drive me insane.” He kissed you—deep, dizzying, swallowing your breath as he rubbed against you. “And I’m gonna make you forget you ever cared about some dumbass kid’s opinion.”

As he leaned in closer, his mouth brushed against your clit through your soaked panties, igniting a spark that shot straight to your core.

With a flick of his wrist, he tore the fabric apart, the sound making your breath hitch in your throat.

Electricity shot through your body as his tongue began to circle, teasing and exploring, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. His mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue lashing against your clit as he devoured you. You felt yourself melting, your body trembling as he worshipped you, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin, anchoring you as if he couldn’t bear to let you escape.

“Tell me how it feels,” he breathed against you, voice low and commanding, coaxing you to let go.

You felt yourself building towards a climax, your body shuddering in response to his relentless assault. Gojo's tongue was a master, coaxing you closer to the edge. “Please…” you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on.

His mouth continued to devour you, each stroke of his tongue sending you tumbling over the edge. You cried out, the sound echoing through the room, but Gojo didn’t relent.

His mouth never leaving you as he pushed you toward another climax, his tongue swirling and teasing. You felt yourself spiraling, completely lost in the sensations, your body quaking beneath his expert touch.

When you came for the fifth time, your body began to tremble, muscles weakening. Gojo's grip only tightened, fingers digging deeper as he held you in place, his mouth still working you through the waves of pleasure.

Then he climbed on top of you, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel the weight of him—the solid strength that grounded you amidst the chaos. He pulled his dick out, sliding into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

He fucked you senseless, like he had something to prove, like he needed to burn every insecurity out of you until there was nothing left but him—his touch, his voice, his name tangled in your gasping moans.

With every thrust, he filled you completely, and you felt yourself drifting, consciousness fading as Gojo’s touch sent you tumbling into oblivion. His pace was steady and deep, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where nothing else existed.

Your vision began to blur, your body going limp beneath him as pleasure washed over you. You felt yourself being pulled under, losing yourself in the intensity of what he was doing to you.

As you lost consciousness, Gojo’s mouth finally left your mouth, lips brushing against your jaw, trailing up to your ear as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful when you’re coming apart.”

His hands gripped your hips, fingers holding you firmly in place, his chest pressing against your breasts.

You were unaware of anything, your body limp and unresponsive as Gojo cradled you, lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “I’ll catch you when you fall.”

And with that, everything went black.

Gojo felt a rush of exhilaration as you surrendered beneath him, but that thrill quickly turned into a knot of worry in his gut when he realized you had gone limp. His thrusts slowed, confusion washing over him as he looked down at your unconscious form.

Gojo’s eyes widened as the realization hit him like a cold wave: you were out. Your body was limp beneath him, your chest still rising and falling, but your face—your face was blank, eyes closed. He pulled out, pulling you into his arms.

For a split second, panic gripped him, his heart leaping into his throat. “Shit… did I—?” He froze, running his hands over your body, as if searching for any sign that you were still there. His breath hitched in his chest, his mind spiraling into a dark panic.

What the fuck had he done? He just—he couldn’t have—he had to stop, had to check, but you were still warm, still breathing, and—

He sat up on his knees, shaking you gently. His fingers shook as he gently cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Hey… hey, wake up. Come on, babe…”

He watched, heart racing, as the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. He’d never meant for it to go this far. All that confidence he exuded melted away, leaving only a frantic concern.

What if he had crossed a line? What if you didn’t wake up?

Just when Gojo was ready to call for help or just fall apart in full-blown panic, you stirred.

A groggy, muffled groan slipped past your lips. Your eyelids fluttered, slowly opening, and you blinked, looking up at Gojo, still above you, his wide eyes full of concern.

You furrowed your brow, rubbing at your face as you came to.

“What happened?” You mumbled, your voice thick.

He breathed a sigh of relief, the tension releasing from his shoulders as he watched you blink up at him. “You passed out. I thought I broke you!”

The confusion on your face slowly faded into a lazy, disoriented smile, and you let out a small chuckle. “Toru…” You blinked again, still half-dazed, your voice soft and slightly slurred. “Your dick’s not that destructive.” You teased, “more like a wrecking ball of pleasure, maybe.”

Gojo froze, his hand still hovering over your face. For a second, his heart stopped from relief, but then the corner of his mouth twitched into a grin. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, leaning back as he chuckled nervously, trying to hide the anxiety that had been coiling in his chest.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he admitted, voice low, yet with a touch of laughter still lingering. “I thought I’d killed you there for a second. You passed out like... like I just—”

“Relax, Toru,” you interrupted, now fully awake, though still giggling. “You didn’t kill me.” You smirked, your gaze sharpening with a mix of teasing and exhaustion. “But maybe next time, try not to knock me out with your sex skills, alright?”

Gojo’s face flushed a little, but the nervous tension eased from his shoulders. He let out a breath of relief, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try not to be so... intense next time.”

But there was a spark in his eyes, a mischievous glint that suggested maybe, just maybe, he liked the chaos just a little bit too much. “But I gotta say, seeing you pass out from that? Damn, babe. I really am that good.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips never faltered.

“No. We are not doing this.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah.”

After a beat, he continued, “I was seriously worried I’d have to explain to everyone that I killed my girlfriend with my—uh, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, scratching his chin. “I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed. Next time, maybe don’t go all ‘strongest’ on me?”

“More like a generous lover who cares about your well-being. You did just faint from pleasure, after all.”

“Generous, huh?” You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Gojo’s lips brushed over your forhead and asked, “still worried?”

You couldn’t even remember what you were mad about.

He chuckled, smug. “That’s what I thought.”

You scoffed.

“You loooove me,” he crooned, nuzzling your neck. “And admit it—you’re way hotter than me.”

“You wish.”

“I know,” he said, grinning against your skin. “But hey—” His voice softened, just for a second. “If some brat calls you ‘auntie’ again, I’ll just tell them you’re my sugar mama. Problem solved.”

You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously young-looking,” he corrected, laying back down with you on his chest. "Now, c’mon—let’s make decisions we’ll regret in the morning. Let’s order and eat pizza in bed.”

When you woke up the next morning, sore and thoroughly ruined, there was a sticky note on the nightstand.

“Still hot, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes.

But you kept the note.

Ryomen Sukuna x F!Reader

You pushed open the front door, the soft click echoing through the dimly lit apartment. The moment you stepped inside, a heavy tension seemed to settle over you, wrapping around your shoulders like a cloak. Your mood had been off all day, and you were desperate for some comfort.

Sukuna, sprawled on the couch with his two arms crossed behind his head, lazily chucking dry squid chips into his tummy mouth. His crimson eyes flicked toward you the moment you walked in, that intense gaze igniting a flicker of warmth in your chest—despite the gnawing sense of dread that often accompanied it.

“Welcome back, brat,” he said, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips as he set the chips aside. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Tummy mouth licked it’s lips and grinned up at you like you were the next snack.

You sighed, sinking into the plush cushions beside him. “More like I’ve had a long day. I just... I don’t know.”

Sukuna tilted his head, his interest piqued. He leaned closer, those four arms shifting to wrap around you, drawing you into his embrace. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, and despite your earlier mood, you leaned into him.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his tone low and smooth, coaxing you to share what weighed on your mind. “What’s bothering you?”

After a moment of hesitation, you glanced up, meeting his gaze. “A kid called me ‘aunt’ today. I mean, am I old, Ryo?”

Silence.

Then—

Sukuna, from his throne of squid chips and self-importance, slowly turned to look at you.

He blinked once.

Then twice.

Then—

He lost his shit.

A low, rumbling laugh tore from his chest as he sat up, four arms crossed, grinning like a menace. “If you’re an aunt, then what does that make me? A fossil?”

From his stomach, Tummy Mouth cackled, too.

You glared at him, gripping a couch cushion. “This is not funny, Ryo.”

“It is absolutely hilarious,” he shot back, still grinning like the world’s worst boyfriend.

You could feel your soul leaving your body.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “You thinking about getting one of those old lady shawls? Maybe some knitting needles?”

You grabbed another cushion.

“Start saying stuff like ‘back in my youth’?”

Second cushion, loaded.

“Want me to help you cross the street next time?”

Projectile launched.

The bastard caught it with one hand.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be mad,” he drawled, leaning closer. “It’s kinda cute, y’know. You. My little ancient relic.”

You scowled. “I will shove you off this couch.”

But before you could, he grabbed your wrist, his smirk vanishing completely.

His gaze darkened.

“Hey.” His voice dropped, dangerously smooth. “You’re not actually upset about this, are you?”

You hesitated.

You hadn’t meant to let it show, but he always saw through you.

“Hey,” he said, softer now, one hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “You really think I’d let some brat’s words get to you? You're not some washed-up relic waiting to be put in a museum.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It just hit me, okay? I’m not a sorcerer like you, Ryo. I’m not going to live as long as you.”

For a brief moment, his teasing faded, replaced by an unreadable seriousness.

Then—

He stood up.

You blinked. “What are you—?”

“Tell me what he looks like.”

You stared. “Excuse me?”

Sukuna was on a mission.

A dumbass, completely unnecessary, unhinged mission.

But a mission nonetheless.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re not a sorcerer. But that doesn’t mean you get to let some kid make you feel like you’re less than you are. We’re going to find this brat, and I’ll make sure they know how ridiculous they are for calling you that.”

You shook your head, trying to quell the surge of embarrassment. “I don’t need you fighting a kid for me.”

“So you want to fight him?”

You had barely managed to get the words “No fighting a kid” out of your mouth before he had already decided that a 14-year-old was his next sworn enemy.

His sharp eyes gleamed with the kind of excitement that should’ve been reserved for actual battles, not... minor conflicts with prepubescent boys.

“Oh, we’re fighting him,” Sukuna declared, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a boss battle.

“No, we are not.”

“You’re right,” he said, nodding solemnly before grinning. “I am fighting him.”

You groaned, attempting to drag him back toward the house, but Sukuna didn’t budge. Obviously. He was 7 feet tall, built like he bench-pressed elephants for cardio, and had extra arms just in case one got tired mid-rampage.

You had exactly zero chances of stopping this.

So, five minutes later, you found yourself standing in a local park, feeling deep shame as Sukuna zeroed in on a child who had been minding his own business.

The kid was hanging out with his friends, chewing on the end of a bubble tea straw like he was plotting someone’s demise, when Sukuna stormed over like a final boss, making his entrance.

“Hey, kid!” Sukuna’s voice boomed, causing several pigeons to take flight in sheer terror.

The child glanced up, blinking at the literal demon king before him. “What.”

Oh. The kid had attitude.

Sukuna grinned, baring fangs. Good. He liked a challenge.

“Why’d you call her ‘aunt’? As far as I know, your ugly head is not related to my bloodline.” Sukuna folded his arms across his chest, all four of them, making a point to flex. His sheer size cast a shadow over the kid, an obvious ‘I eat kids for fun’ aura radiating off of him.

The kid took a sip of his drink, unbothered, and stared Sukuna dead in the eye. “Bro, why you built like Goro Majima on steroids?”

Sukuna’s grin twitched.

You choked on air.

One of the kid’s friends snorted, muttering, “Nah, fr. Why he got that Elden Ring DLC boss stance?”

Another one nodded, whispering, “Lookin’ like a JoJo stand.”

Sukuna’s eyebrow twitched again. The menace had met his match.

“You got a smart mouth for a child,” he said, voice low, deadly.

The kid took another sip, slowly. Unphased. “And you got four hands but still can’t pull more bitches than me.”

Your soul left your body.

Sukuna just stared, blinking once. Then twice.

He had met his match.

And his match was a boba-drinking, TikTok-brained, 14-year-old with no sense of self-preservation.

The kid blinked up at Sukuna, utterly unbothered by the seven-foot, four-armed, literal curse king looming over him.

Sukuna, meanwhile, was malfunctioning.

His eye twitched. His jaw clenched. His tummy mouth growled.

You knew that look.

He was one insult away from punting this child into the next dimension.

And, naturally, the kid was more than happy to provide.

“You good, grandpa?” The kid took another slow sip of his boba, raising an eyebrow. “Need a cane? A hearing aid? Maybe some dentures?”

You choked on air.

Sukuna’s entire soul left his body.

This little bastard.

Sukuna cracked his knuckles, stepping forward like he was about to commit a war crime.

Finally, the kid sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme guess. She thinks I called her ‘aunt’?” He turned the screen toward you, showing you an Instagram story he had posted earlier—a blurry picture of his actual aunt standing in the background, captioned: “Auntie bought me boba today 🤝”.

Sukuna squinted.

You squinted.

Your soul came back just to leave again.

Sukuna’s fists clenched.

“I WAS TALKING ABOUT MY AUNT,” the kid said, exasperated, dragging a hand down his face like this was somehow your fault. “Damn, y’all are so old, your ears don’t even work anymore.”

Sukuna was already raising his hand to use his technique to ‘dismantle the kid.

“Ryo, no—”

“Lil bastard, you got one more smartass comment before I send you to the next life—”

And that was the exact moment you had to physically throw your arms around him, dragging him away from the child before he violated several laws of human decency.

“Ryo, you are not fighting a child!”

“He has no fear of death!” Sukuna snarled, arms flexing like he was debating whether yeeting you off would be worth it.

Meanwhile, the kid, still untouched, just smirked and waved. “Stay mad, grandpa.”

You had never seen Sukuna closer to homicide.

By the time you got home, you were exhausted.

Sukuna was still seething as he threw himself on the couch, arms crossed, muttering about “bratty little shits who needed discipline.”

You pulled out your phone, firing off a quick text to the group chat with your girlfriends—Gojo’s wife and Nanami’s girlfriend.

You: False alarm. The kid didn’t call me old.

Gojo’s wife: Wait, what?

Nanami’s girl: So he called ME old?

You: No, he called HIS OWN aunt.

Silence.

Then—

Gojo’s wife: Oh my god. Were we all fighting for our lives for no reason?

Nanami’s girl: No. No, I cannot face the world. I will be passing away.

Unfortunately, their husband/boyfriends saw the texts.

From over their shoulders.

You weren’t there to witness it, but you knew exactly how it went down.

Nanami’s girlfriend, upon realization, had immediately buried herself in the nearest closet.

Nanami, standing in the doorway, was hunched over, laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

Gojo, meanwhile, had been cackling so violently that he had collapsed to the floor, actually wheezing.

And naturally, Gojo’s wife did the only rational thing.

She picked up the nearest wooden spoon and started chasing him.

Gojo, still laughing, booked it. “BABE, PLEASE—”

You could practically hear it through the screen.

Sukuna, still fuming, looked over at your phone.

“...So, what I’m hearing is, we ruined that kid’s entire afternoon for nothing.”

You met his gaze, sighed, and collapsed onto the couch next to him.

“Yep.”

A long silence.

Then—

Sukuna grinned, sharp and feral. “It was fun, we’ll be doing it often.”

“Ryo No.”

“Ryo Yes.”

A/N: If someone called you auntie/uncle/older sibling out of nowhere, how fast are you filing for emotional damages? 1. IMMEDIATELY. Suing for emotional distress. 2. I’m pretending I didn’t hear. Never happened. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss. 3. Accepting my fate and investing in anti-aging skincare immediately. 4. Laughing it off but dying inside. Drop your trauma in the comments. Nanami is here to hold us all. 😌

All Works Masterlist

[norris55s]

the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc & arthur leclerc love triangle, pt. 2

pt. 1

warnings: none other than angst?

a/n: a million years later here is part 2 but it’s not over ladies and gentlemen! i hope it doesn’t suck lol. part 3 will come. also i’ve now added charlotte siné as the fc for practical purposes!

————————————————————————

Day 4

————————————————————————

As I opened the door, terrified at who I was going to see behind it, I met Charles’ bloodshot eyes staring daggers into mine.

“Y/N, let’s talk, please. I screwed up, but let me explain,” he quickly said before I could even mutter a word.

I was still as speechless as I had been last night. Without a word, I moved aside to let him in my room, but he shook his head and insisted on talking to me at the beach. I just obliged, trying my best to be quiet around the house so as to not wake anyone up.

As soon as we arrived on the shore, Charles invited me to sit down and I once again just obliged. My heart was pounding on my ears and I felt like it would jump out of my body at any second.

“I feel like I should start at the beginning,” Charles said, while I looked to the sea instead of looking at him.

“I’ve always loved you. There has always been something about you that comforts me and makes me happy. I just didn’t realize how deep it went until last summer, when I realized that you kissing Antoine ruined the entire season for me.”

I tried to recall any reaction from Charles when I hooked up with Antoine last year that could’ve been a sign, but I found nothing in my memories. I was too busy sulking over the fact that he didn’t and would never like me, but I had been proved wrong 365 days later. The words were in my head but they didn’t make sense. Why would Charles Leclerc like me, much less love me?

“I’ve tried to avoid it, I’ve tried to think nothing of it, I’ve tried to deny it and it’s been no use.”

The irony of me doing the same thing for years was not lost on me. How I have pined for years not realizing he spent some of that time feeling the same way was borderline funny.

“Will you please look at me?” Charles asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, making it impossible for me to deny his request even if I knew any resolve or strength I had left in me would evaporate the minute my eyes met his.

The butterflies in my stomach felt like a swarm of wasps, and I’m sure the blush in my face evidenced it. Charles’ green eyes, the object of all my hidden wishes for as long as I could recall, stared into mine looking to decipher my emotions.

I wished I could say he found nothing but love, but in between all those beautiful feelings of loving and being loved in return, I could still sense a wretched feeling of disappointment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” a stronger voice than expected called him out. All this time he had to know I felt the same way, but he let me believe there wasn’t a chance in hell he could care about me beyond a friendship.

“It took me too long to even understand it. Even then, I couldn’t justify changing your life on a crush, or hurt you and ruin it all. I still don’t know if I can justify it, but I know I can’t stand it anymore. I love you and I’m done pretending I don’t, or that you don’t love me too.”

When I searched into his eyes, all I could find was sincerity. And it was enough for me to jump into the deep end, leaning closer to him in hopes he would initiate the kiss I’ve desperately wanted for far too much time.

He granted my wishes, placing both of his hands on my neck to connect our lips. It was just like I imagined it.

Soft, passionate, unrushed, warm. I felt the fireworks that everyone speaks of go off in my head, and I just knew Charles felt them too.

As we pulled away to breathe, struggling to even think of ever separating me from him ever again, Charles smiled brightly.

“Can you say you love me too, mon cœur?” he asked so prettily I could coo at him.

“I love you, Charles Leclerc,” I obliged, because how could I say no to him?

“And I love you, Y/N L/N,” he replied, smiling even bigger, and kissing me even better.

Our bubble of a newfound love lasted a while, but was eventually meant to break when I received a text from Arthur.

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

The conversation about Arthur with Charles wasn’t the hard part at all. The older brother brushed the kiss off as a drunken mistake, and was a little too confident on who my choice would be.

The conversation about Charles with Arthur would be the hard part, and I didn’t even have time to settle down in my bed after the rollercoaster of emotions I had just gone through when Arthur barged in.

He looked happy to see me, and it broke my heart.

In trying to find the words to say I couldn’t be with him, and before I could mutter them, he hugged me.

“I’ve been trying to find you all this time, where have you been chérie?” Arthur smiled, but it quickly faded once he realized my energy wasn’t the same.

“Arthur…”

“Chérie, don’t say it was a mistake because you know it wasn’t. Fuck my brother, you know that this is right.”

“I’m so sorry…” I began and pushed back further away from him, as if my next words would hurt him any less because of it. “Charles and I spoke, and we have realized our feelings for each other…” I looked down, cowardly, unable to face his reaction. “You know I’ve loved him forever and I am just so sorry for leading you on.”

Like it always happened between us, I didn’t have to look at him, and he didn’t have to say anything. I just knew that we were done.

He stormed out of the room.

————————————————————————

charles_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her close friends stories

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

————————————————————————

[kiryoutann]

warning(s): MDNI, ANGST, simon riley being an asshole (like really), kind of gore description as metaphor for REAALLYY desperate love??? non-consensual tracking by reader (SURPRISE!!)

Simon might be the worst denialist ever. Because, how could he say it was all casual?

“I forgot something in your car.” You tell him.

Simon's frown deepened, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to contemplate your words. It was absurd—after all these weeks, here you are, standing in front of his apartment, having somehow discovered the address, and claiming to have forgotten something in his car.

But he doesn't say anything, just continues to make his way to the car. You follow closely behind him. He opens the door to the passenger seat, then steps aside to let you check the car. You stretch your hand under the passenger seat, blindly feeling for anything, brushing through the dust and small gravel collected there until you finally touch something cold and metallic.

Pulling it out, the phone you had planted there weeks earlier came into view. You knew this meant Simon had laid his eyes on it too. It wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots and figure out you had been tracking him this whole time.

Fucking hell. Simon remembered what he had said about modern phones. He closed the car door with a sharp click, then turned to you.

“So you’ve been followin’ me, then?”

“You didn't return my texts,” you stated bluntly.

"I asked you a question." He growls, almost like he's threatening you.

You observed the anger brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, radiating from him like a hot flame. Good, you thought silently. At least there was something that riled him up; otherwise, you would be suffering alone while he goes to fuck any willing bodies he can get his hands on.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask again. “Why does it say your number is no longer in service? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he snap, voice dripping with venom. “You think I owe you an explanation?”

Your blurry vision missed a flicker of change in his expression. When the tears escaped and the world came into focus again, all you saw was Simon gritting his teeth, jaw locked. He turned and began to walk away.

You followed him, quickening your pace to catch up. “Simon! Simon, wait!”

Despite your best efforts, he continues to keep his back turned to you, refusing to even spare you a glance. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, seemingly hell-bent on creating a vast gulf between you. You called out his name once more, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night, but he kept right on walking.

“Yes, I deserve an explanation! I don’t know why you’re being like this. We were fine the last time we were together. What happened? Why did you just disappear on me?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the sleeve of his jacket to get him to stop and face you. He came to a halt. A jolt of electricity surged through you as he encircled your fingers with his own, but it soon faded as he let go of your grip on the leather. Something inside you dropped away, leaving a shameful hollow space inside.

Simon towers over you, his stature imposing and intimidating. He locks a hard glare on you. “I asked you a question, didn't I?” His voice fell to a dangerously low tone. “Why the fuck have you been following me?”

The dam holding back your tears broke, leaving you choking on your own sobs. How could he not know? All these tears, all these cries… how could he still fail to see that it was all for him? To be stripped bare only for him to overlook it. Should you skin yourself alive then? To tear your heart out, to hold the raw, bleeding organ in the palm of your trembling hand as an offering?

“Because I want to know where you are,” You settle for the simpler version, hyperventilating as you take a breath. “You know my place, my workplace... You even went to my cousin’s wedding. And yet, I know nothing about you, Simon. Nothing.”

“You think just ‘cause we fucked a few times, that gives you the right to pry into my life?”

A sharp pang of pain shot through your chest. The world was ruby-colored, either from your boiling anger or the hemorrhage from the sharpness of his words. Your jaw clenched, your gaze sharpened.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you spat. “You know we’re not just fucking.”

The clenched fists at your sides tremble, and you don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt or the weight of your own expectation to make him see it. Or perhaps it’s all three. How could he speak like this when there's a specific section in your dresser for the clothes he frequently brings and leaves, when he constantly returns and stays longer even as the morning has risen, when he drove you to the countryside and dances and twirls you around like those old couples do? Not when he embraces you until your tears subside, nor when each of his kisses offers that one thing you've chased your whole life.

There’s no way this isn’t love. He just needs to stop denying it.

Simon's eyes narrowed into slits. "Then you read it all wrong, darlin'."

The way he said it was cold, without a shred of sympathy—but nothing was colder than the way Simon continually turned his back to you as he continued to walk farther and farther away, as if all he wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. Disgusting woman in love. But you never got the hint, did you? You kept following him, running after him like a stupid little dog created solely to love, love, love, and never be loved back.

[sneak peek of chapter 13 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING.".]

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Waiting for Superman

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: fluff

Summary: For decades, you’ve been coasting through life thinking you’ll never find “the one” until you take Spencer to a bookstore, and he manages to find something to pass the time.

Square Filled: waiting for superman by daughtry for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Spencer loves books. He reads nearly twenty of them in a week. However, he is a fan of nonfiction, not fiction like you love. The new bookstore that just opened near your house only had fiction books stocked, nothing that would ever catch Spencer’s eyes. Still, he goes because it’s what you love.

Most people who know Spencer know that he is patient, calculating, thoughtful, and very friendly. That all gets thrown out the window when he comes to the bookstore with you. He’s like an impatient child who only comes along because he has to. He gets bored very easily since his big brain is always running away from him, so it takes a lot to keep him engaged. It’s why he’s so good at his job. His mind is constantly engaged by whatever unsub has made it to the briefing room.

Spencer huffs as he follows you around the bookstore, and you pick a romance book off the shelf.

“You know you didn't have to come with me.”

“I want to hang out with you, even if it means being in here.”

“How romantic,” you roll your eyes playfully.

“Are you almost done? I know of another bookstore that has books we’d both like.”

“Spencer, this one is closer, and we have to meet my parents for lunch. If we went to the other one, we wouldn’t get back until late.” Spencer leans against the bookshelf and is quiet for maybe five seconds. “Okay, how about you go to the cafe and get something to drink, yeah?”

Spencer grumbles but doesn’t answer you. You go back to reading the backs of books, pushing Spencer aside in your mind. He leaves your side to go find something else to do. If this is Spencer’s only flaw, then you consider yourself pretty lucky. You were at the point in your life where you thought you’d be alone forever.

Every date you went on, you weren't connecting to anyone. Either they were too boring, too stinky, too full of themselves, or they had their eyes on other girls. None of them were ever right until you met Spencer. He kept his attention on you every time you two were together, always put your first, and made sure to remember every detail you’d tell him about yourself.

Okay, that last one is his natural ability to remember everything, but he made a conscious decision to do it.

You spent what felt like a lifetime for someone like Spencer, so you’re not going to let him go that easily.

Over the next hour, you read and grab books that are interesting to you until you have a pile in your hands. You had just gotten paid and felt like spending a chunk of your paycheck on books. Knowing there is nothing for Spencer in here, you search for him in the small bookstore. He’s upstairs sitting in a book nook with half a dozen kids sitting around him. Their parents are near just watching Spencer read a book to them.

His eyes are wide, he does funny voices for the characters, and he engages each of the kids in the story he’s reading. You set your books down on a table and lean against it, content with watching him. Each kid is mesmerized and hooked to every word he’s saying, and the parents don’t mind the nice break from their children.

“What about the dragon? Who is going to slay it?” a child asks.

“Princess Annabelle is.” All the children gasp. “I know. Usually, the prince does but I think Princess Annabelle is tired of waiting for someone to do it for her. Let’s see how she does it.”

Spencer flips to the next page and continues to the story. He looks up and locks eyes with you, and you give him a slow-growing smile.

It’s right here and now that you’ve decided this is the man you’re going to marry. You’ve been waiting decades for your Superman to show up, and it’s been in front of your face the whole time.

x

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[323cutie]

9:21 pm. | jeong yunho

fluff. 500 words.

a/n the unofficial title of this drabble is "how could you be no one (when you're everything to me)" but thats too long and also this is a timestamp . But just know in ur heart thats the name of the fic

Yunho’s in your kitchen when you get home, standing behind a single cupcake with one candle stuck in the middle of the frosting on the counter. You catch him in the middle of lighting it, and once the candle officially lights he looks at you.

“Surprise,” is what he says after a small pause, voice tinged with his growing smile. Aside from a single lamp on in your living room, the candle is the only source of light, and it paints Yunho warm, orange. You don’t know why he’s here, not that you don’t want him; but didn’t he have –

“Practice?” You ask, confused. He’d said he would (regrettably) be stuck at tour rehearsals for your birthday, and it had been fine – just because you weren’t celebrating on your actual birthday didn’t make it any less special. But now he’s here and smiling and sweet.

“Ended way earlier than we thought,” Yunho answers, then with a teasing lilt, “disappointed?”

Normally you’d play along, respond with a witty remark, but despite all you’ve been gifted throughout the day Yunho and his one cupcake is hitting you the hardest. “Never,” you say, coming around the counter to stand next to him. One of your arms holds around his waist while his fingers immediately clear your hair out of your face. “Always wanna see you.”

He hums, and you see the flash of pink on the tips of his ears. “Your cupcake is gonna be covered in wax. Make a wish.”

It comes easy, and fast. Natural. You blow out your candle and pay the treat no mind, turning to face Yunho fully. It’s a little darker, but the light from your living room still casts him in an intimate glow. “That was fast,” he murmurs, letting both of his hands rest on your waist while yours rub up and down his arms. “What’d you wish for?”

You smile, lean closer. “Can’t tell you. It won’t come true.”

He reads your mind, pulls you in. “I think it might come true anyways.”

It’s a gentle, loving press of your lips to his, a moment belonging to nothing else except the feeling of each other. Work has been hard on both of you recently, and it gets harder and harder to see each other when Yunho’s preparing for another tour and you’re getting more assignments at work. Unfair, you think now. Unfair to keep us apart like this. Unfair when you fit perfectly together.

Yunho feels like coming home. Like something you know, like something you’ve always known. A tender tug at your heart whenever he’s around. A string wrapped around your finger, connected to him, inevitable.

When he breaks away from the kiss he presses his lips to the side of your head, holding you close. You cupcake is covered in wax, but you don’t mind. “Gonna tell me that wish?”

You hum, giggle, shake your head against his chest. “Nah,” you answer. “But you probably already know what it is.”

You look up at him, and he’s already looking at you. There’s a sparkle, a glow, a flash of something you’ve never experienced but know already. Hydrangeas and ocean waves and a soft weight on your ring finger.

“Yeah,” Yunho says, nodding fondly. “I think I do.”

[ournosleep69-blog]

Joel Takes Your Virginity (yippee)

Haven’t done this in a while, so please bear with me!! I also need more ideas for what to write LOL. Thinking about doing some Arthur Morgan stories?? Mayhaps?? I also do angst & fluff YIPPEEE

Pairing: Joel Miller (hbo) x fem!reader (use of she/her, feminine terms)

Word count: 4.3k Warnings & Content: Smut, 18+. Age gap (reader is 19, Joel in his 40s), fem!reader, oral - female receiving, praise, P-in-V unprotected, loss of virginity, slight awkwardness, established relationship, creampie, dom!Joel, marking, sleepy aftercare, veryvery smutty, set in Jackson.

It’s already been a wonderful eleven months being with Joel. Sure, moving into his house before you two had even crossed a year together was a little bit risky, yet, it felt right; still feels right. Plus, you two had connected before you’d even gotten together, so it wasn’t as if it happened completely out of the blue.

Everything was amazing - Joel was the best boyfriend you could ask for; sweet, gentle, yet protective and ready to defend you if it came down to it (and it has, many times). He was thoughtful, and never wanted you to do things yourself, even if it was as simple as making coffee in the mornings. The age gap may earn some…questionable looks from a few randoms here in Jackson, but he never cared. Joel loved you loud, and he was damn proud of it.

On an intimacy level, however, you two hadn’t gone past the casual late-night makeout sessions, the hickeys here and there, the occasional groping. But it never went past any of that. It began to frustrate you, even if it was your doing. You stopped things before they went past that line of intimacy, but it was only because you were scared. What if you weren’t as good as the other girls he’s had? How many girls has he had, exactly? What if you can’t please him the first time-

“Thinkin’ hard over there?” Joel’s gruff voice interrupts your thoughts as his large hand comes out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His words ground you back into reality, and suddenly, you��re back on the couch with your boyfriend, watching some cheesy action film on a small TV. “Starin’ off into space like that, you alright?” 

Your gaze flickers over to Joel, noticing his hand gently squeezing your thigh in a reassuring manner. He seems to be worried, his brows furrowed, the slight wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly brush his worries aside. Your hand reaches out to grab his own, feeling the way his palm and fingers nearly dwarf yours in size. “Just thinking.”

“Thinkin’?” With a grunt, the Texan shifts closer to you, his free hand trailing down to your chin to tilt your head in his direction. God, the man was stunning. Even in his late forties, he looked so full of youth. His brown eyes, deep and intense, met yours, beckoning you to be honest.

A sense of uncertainty fills your brain. It’s best to be honest, but you feel odd talking about it - intimacy was never your strong suit, even if it’s only because you were so inexperienced. So, you inhale a deep breath, your eyes fluttering slightly as you prepare to express yourself. 

“I wanna…well,” it’d be nice to turn your head and dodge his eye contact because you can already feel your cheeks heating up, but he keeps you in place. “I just think maybe we, uh, we take things..” Fuck, this was hard.

“I want to have sex. With you. Uhm, right. Yeah.” Jesus Christ, you kick yourself mentally, a palm slapping over your face in embarrassment. That was so awkward you might as well have just jumped his bones instead.

 You can see a wave of surprise rush over Joel’s features. His eyes widen slightly, lips parting to say something, yet he remains silent, only the sounds of his near-silent breaths filling the room. The hand on your thigh tightens just a bit. 

He then clears his throat, “you sure, pumpkin? That’s a big step. I don’t want you to feel like you have to. We can go as slow as you w-” But you cut him off by leaning in just slightly. The air between you thickens with tension, and you can feel Joel’s body tensing with anticipation. 

“I’m ready,” it’s all Joel needed to grab your hand, leading you up from the couch and towards your shared bedroom upstairs.

  ☆☆☆☆☆☆

It was a quick mess of clothes being discarded as soon as you two passed the threshold leading into the bedroom. Joel’s arms are tight around your waist, your own clinging to his shirt while your lips fight for dominance; a fight Joel quickly wins every. Single. Time.

Hot tongues slide and tangle against each other while your feet step towards the bed. Joel’s strong arms, marred with scars and scratches from all of his arduous years of surviving, guide you to lay back on the bed. 

“Just lay back, sweetheart. I wanna make your first time somethin’ special, you hear me?” The older man murmurs whilst slowly crawling on top of you.

Your back sinks into the fluffy softness of the covers, eyes flitting up to meet Joel’s intense ones. His gaze is roving over your body, pupils widening at the sight of every inch; the swell of your breasts, your flared hips, those plush lips and beautiful eyes. He could spend countless hours just ranting about how amazing you are, how special you are to him. 

How much he loves you.

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, breath warming the skin there whenever he talks. And the way his hand slides up to your stomach, tracing the contours, makes your insides clench. Though things were starting to get steamy, the nerves were starting to take over.

“Hey, hey. Darlin’, breathe,” You tried to keep it together as much as you could, but Joel could see the slight tremble in your body, the way you were unintentionally digging your nails into his shoulder. “Are you sure this is somethin’ you want?”

“Yes. It- It is. I know it…it doesn’t seem like it, but,” a shy laugh escapes your lips, and you loosen your grip. “But I want this. I’m serious, Joel.” 

At your words, the Texan nods firmly. His touch resumes on your stomach, fingertips trailing up and over your ribcage, feeling the ridges even through the skin. His touch is featherlight, calming even. And then his fingers brush against the bottom of your underwear, earning a gasp from your mouth.

“Someone’s eager..” He murmurs, shifting his hips nearly imperceptibly. But you could feel the hot bulge of his arousal pressed to the soft flesh of your inner thigh, the way it twitches through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“I could- could say the same about, uh, you,” It sounded a lot smoother in your head, but not so much when you stutter it out.

But he was right. The soft cotton panties that adorned your hips were damp in the crotch from your arousal, the slickness only growing with each touch, each loving caress from your older lover.

“Remember what I said, pumpkin. Breathe, in and out.” For someone so…intimidating, Joel can never help himself from babying you; especially in this moment of pure vulnerability for you, for your relationship.

Taking his advice, you suck in a deep breath, letting the oxygen sit in your lungs for a few seconds before you exhale just as slowly. The nerves are still there, but they’re calming down, and you can feel yourself enjoying the moment even more.

Joel can tell, too, because his touch becomes bolder. Leaning in, his lips descend upon your neck. He makes sure to carefully nip at the sensitive flesh behind your ear, earning a soft moan. But the acts of affection lower, and he starts to trail down the column of your throat with them, occasionally slipping the tip of his tongue out to taste you.

By the time he’s got you more opened up to the idea of this, you’re squirming under him, trying to press your hips up into his own. He chuckles, the movement making his beard scratch nicely against your jawline.

One of his hands begins to slip down, dipping below the elastic waistband of your underwear. He stops just short of actually making contact with your pussy, his fingers pulling back slightly. Joel leans his head back, only enough to look down at you. He can see the flush on your cheeks and it makes his dick throb. 

“Is this okay?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, those weathered puppy eyes staring longingly into yours.

“Yeah..” You breathe. The anticipation combined with your arousal is sending tingles up your legs and into the apex of your thighs, amplifying every one of your intense feelings. Your pulse quickens, the steady thrum of your heart filling your ears.

Without hesitation, his fingers finally make contact with your most intimate area. Joel emits a soft groan, while you emit an even softer whimper. His touch is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your legs and lower stomach, even if he hasn’t touched a particularly sensitive area yet.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked,” he whispers, voice hoarse and full of incredulousness. The older man continues his exploration of your cunt, index finger languidly sliding between your hot folds, feeling the way it glides so easily from your evident need. You’re too flustered to say anything, so you only look away, wanting to shrink away from his gaze. 

“Hey, look at me. Please.” 

You tilt your head back, too weak and in love to ignore his loving plea. A genuine, tender smile curls at the corners of his lips. “I wanna see every emotion on that pretty lil’ face, ‘kay?”

“Fuck-” You gasp again when his digits find your clit, beginning to rub tight circles over the sensitive bud. It throbs under his touch, your legs quivering just a bit while your entrance clenches around nothing, eager to be filled with something. Anything.

“S’alright, let it out.” Joel praises lovingly as he kisses your cheek, continuing his movements that have your hips rocking up and arching to chase that pleasurable feeling. 

With his thumb now replacing his fingers, Joel pays more attention to your entrance. But before he does anything, he suddenly lifts off of you. You whine at the loss of the pleasurable sensation, but he only gives you a soft ‘shh’, reassuring you that he’s nowhere near done working you up.

The older man finally settles between your thighs, his rough hands sliding up to your hips. His fingers curl around the waistband, pulling them off in one easy - or easy-looking - movement. The cool air brushing against your swollen folds makes you shudder, your toes curling on the sheets. It’d be surprising that you aren’t feeling exposed or uncomfortable, yet, you’re with Joel, and you trust him more than anyone.

“God, look at that,” A soft kiss is pressed to your mound, making you jump a little. “Every goddamn inch of you is perfect, sweetheart.” he admires.

It’s like you completely shut out every other feeling when Joel’s tongue comes out, mimicking the way his finger had slid between your folds just minutes ago. You can only focus on the wet, heady feeling of his tongue, of the way it brushes once more against your swollen clit.

Another mousy cry of need escapes you, yet your eyes are trained on Joel’s - you don’t want to disobey him. Watching him go down on you for the first time is so fucking erotic. “You taste even better than I imagined.” 

Fuck. 

Joel’s ministrations become more intense. His tongue flicks and works around your needy bud, not daring to overstimulate you before you two have even begun. Those arms come to wraps around your thighs, keeping you in place as he begins to feast on you like a man once starved. 

“Holy shit,” Your hands lose themselves in the soft salt-and-pepper locks of Joel’s hair, tugging his face closer to your dripping cunt. This only makes him double down on his efforts, the obscene sounds of his tongue licking and lapping filling the room.

Joel stops for a moment, looking down. His hand pulls away from your thigh, bringing two fingers to his mouth. Then, he’s looking back into your heated stare, sucking them into his mouth, getting them slick enough to slip inside of you. 

Now, this part was a little intimidating. Sure, you’ve touched yourself many a time, yet you’ve never put something inside of you. It makes you nervous to think about, but then you stop to  think. He’s never hurt me before.

“Please be careful.” The words leave your lips before you can stop yourself.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ you, kid.” 

The tip of only one digit breaches your small entrance, making you exhale a shaky sigh. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels unfamiliar, and your thighs threaten to lock around his head. Joel slides it in slowly, pupils blown wide at the feel of your velvety walls clinging to his finger, trying to pull him deeper. “I’d say you’re already up for a second. Carefully, ‘course.” 

Your left hand loosens the grip it had on his hair, coming down to hold the one still around your thigh for support. Joel wastes no time in intertwining your fingers together, offering three comforting squeezes that melt your heart. I love you.

It’s a little longer of a process for your body to relax enough to let him slip in a second digit. The two inside of you stretch you just a bit, and the sensation is…odd. It’s not painful though, not when Joel’s muttering words of praise and reassurance the entire time.

“I think…I think you can move now.” You decide. 

As if on cue, Joel’s fingers begin to slip in and out of your entrance, wanting to get you acquainted with the feeling. And once you do, he curls them up. They brush against your g-spot, feeling the spongy yet hard surface against the tips with each thrust.

Even the slightest touch as your back arched off the bed, a keening moan filling the room. Joel only smiles contentedly, lowering his head to begin suckling at your clit.

Your toes curl once again, and you cry out. “Oh my god, Joel-” Each flick of his tongue, each movement of his fingers has you grinding against his mouth, unable to hold back. The flush on your cheeks has bloomed down to your neck, the cutest sight to the older man who absolutely adores you. “That feels s- so fucking good-”

“Let it out. Be as loud as you need to, baby,” his southern drawl comes out husky with arousal, yet he pushes through. His desires can wait, he’s only worried about making sure you have the best first time. It only comes once, but he wants to make sure you do multiple times tonight.

The praise sets you off, the combination of being fingered and eaten out has you an absolute blissed-out mess. He hums against your cunt, sending vibrations through your entire body. Your hand tightens in his, your head thrown back.

Just another minute or so passes, and you feel the intense tug in your lower stomach. Close, already. Joel can tell as well, seeing the way your walls are fluttering around him as he finger-fucks you with care. His tongue keeps the same steady pace, not wanting to change it up and make you lose the building climax.

“Joel- Joel! Fuck, don’t stop, please!” 

And just like that, one more flick of Joel’s tongue, one more thrust of his digits, has you tumbling headfirst over the finish line. Your climax is intense, easily one of the most intense you’ve had in your short life. Thighs clenched tightly around his head, you cry out in ecstasy as your legs tremble and feel like jelly, walls contracting while your juices spill down to Joel’s palm.

And through it all, the older man’s mouth and hand keeps moving, prolonging your orgasm until you're a writhing, boneless heap on the bed beneath him. Your face glistens with that post-orgasmic glow, chest heaving with each gasp for air.

While you’re still reeling, Joel slowly removes his fingers. He presses kisses up along your body, only stopping when he reaches your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue - slightly tangy and salty, mixed with something uniquely you. It should gross you out, but it only serves to keep your arousal up, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You did so good, so fuckin’ good,” Joel mumbles between kisses. The kisses aren’t overly eager; no, they’re full of adoration and tenderness, and the desire to make you feel the best that you possibly can.

You already feel like a puddle of goo, but the way he’s complimenting you only makes you melt even more. But something snaps you from your thoughts - his length, once again, pressed to your thigh. It’s as hard as a fucking rock, and you know it has to hurt as this point. One glance down and you can see the wet patch from the pre-cum staining his boxers, and it makes you shudder.

“Keep going..” you murmur, voice weak and slightly husky from the climax. Joel only looks at you with a curious lift of his brow. But you only nod, even beginning to rub your thigh against his bulge.

“Are you sure, pumpkin? I mean- fuck.” The growl deep in his chest makes your pussy wetter, and you can see his hips twitch slightly, wanting to chase that friction. “Alright, alright.” He chuckles.

Pulling back so he’s on his knees, the Texan moves to tug his waistband down.The boxers slip down his muscular thighs with ease, revealing the neatly trimmed forest at the base of his shaft, and most importantly, the seven and a half inch length of his cock. It springs free, slapping against his stomach as he leans back, giving you the full view. It’s thick, veiny, and clearly in need of release. It twitches once again, the tip an angry pink.

You’ve felt it multiple times during your makeout sessions, and even seen it during showers together, but this was entirely different.

“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” You swallow thickly. The nerves rush back, making your stomach drop and clench with anticipation. All you can think is ‘how is that supposed to fit in that?’

“I won’t let it,” he’s quick to dispel your fears, once again. “I promise ya’.” 

You watch on in aroused disbelief as Joel spits into his calloused palm before he brings it down to wrap around his shaft. “You’ve got me hard as a damn rock, kid.” His head tilts back, strong jaw clenching under his beard as he starts to stroke it with lazy pumps of his fist. It must be only to lubricate it, because he’s back to hovering his body over yours. “Ain’t a surprise though, huh?”

With one hand moving to guide his length to your soaked pussy, the other moves back to slide into your own, holding your hand to support you through what’s going to be your first time having sex.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel’s soothing words fill you with ease. He kisses your forehead, pouring every ounce of his true love for you into the action. He’s not a man of many words, but you melt down that gruff exterior, and he loves you all the more for it. “So perfect. And all mine, ain’t that right?” It’s possessive, but he’s not mean about it. You nod, and he smiles. “Can you say it for me, pumpkin? Go on, I know ya’ can.”

Trying to gather up the words while Joel’s swiping his cockhead through your folds for lubrication is nearly impossible. Your hand tightens on his, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the task you’ve been given.

“I- I’m all yours, Joel.” You finally breathe, gasping when his tip breaches your entrance. It feels thicker than his two fingers, and there’s a slight burning sensation that comes with being stretched like that.

Joel grunts, one hand beside your head to keep himself up. His other simply squeezes yours back, grounding you to the situation. “I know, baby, I know. Deep breaths, breathe through it.” 

The encouragement is enough, and you start to breathe deeply as he begins to sink inch by inch inside of your tight, wet, velvety heat. You’ve never been stretched so fully - or at all for that matter - it makes you wince, yet clench your muscles around him.

“I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” Joel grunts, the pleasure nearly overtaking him. It’s so fucking tight around his cock, he fights the urge to just start thrusting right then and there. But he’d never hurt you, especially not for some selfish need for pleasure. “Say it back, sweetheart, let me hear those words from your pretty ‘lil’ mouth.”

It clicks right then and there; he’s distracting you, trying to make you focus on anything other than the feeling of him stretching you wide around his arousal. It’s so sweet it nearly brings tears to your eyes. In fact, it does. Your eyes fill with unshed tears at the sentiment, and you cling tighter to him.

“I love you.” 

The older man finally buries himself to the hilt inside of your cunt, his breathing slightly ragged. He stills to let you work out the foreign feeling for a few moments, leaning down to kiss your cheeks, even kissing away the few tears that had escaped.

“Say it again, kid.” 

“F- Fuck- I love you-” 

“Atta girl.” Joel encourages warmly, and he begins to piston his hips in gentle, languid strokes. Each thrust has him groaning, mouth pressed against your collarbone, which he begins to mark up with hickeys. It’s a reminder of the trust you put into him, the trust he wouldn’t break for the world. “I love you more.”

Meanwhile, each thrust has you making your own coos of pleasure. The feel of his cock nestled inside of you, each roll of his hips that has his pelvis grinding against your oh-so-sensitive clit, is driving you insane with gratification. With unadulterated need. 

Your bodies fit and move together like pieces of a puzzle, your legs wrapped tight against his waist as he drives into you over and over. The pain and burn had begun to fade, opening up to extreme pleasure every time the slight curve of his cock pressed against your g-spot. 

Your noises, combined with the slapping of flesh, fills your ears, making it impossible to focus on anything else; not that you’d want to anyway. And the noises you were making were making Joel inch towards the edge, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, my god, pumpkin,” Joel growls. Making sure you’re still holding onto his hand, his other one slips back down - making sure to caress your breasts adoringly on the way - to rub circles into your bud. You mewl, the dual stimulation serving to heighten your pleasure even more. Your walls clamp down on Joel’s shaft, making him let out a strangled moan. It was no secret, you were both so close.

“I want- ah, shit-” The Texan mutters, trying to find his bearings while his hips begin to rut faster, chasing the release he craves. “I want you to cum with me, kid. Let it- Let it wash over ya’. Deep breaths.”

Joel redoubles his efforts, wanting you to find that wave of ecstasy beside him. He can tell you're close, and with the way his balls draw up tight, he can tell he is too.

“Joel-” Your nails dig into his hand, leaving deep crescent-shaped marks with every step closer you take to the edge. “I- I’m gonna-”

“Shit, darlin’-” It’s not long before you both find that much-needed orgasm. Joel’s lips crash against yours, groaning gutturally into your mouth, his hips bucking. Your climax triggered his own, walls keeping him deep inside while his cock twitches and pulses, emptying ropes of thick, hot cum deep inside your womb until he’s spent and panting.

Your legs had locked tight around him, squeezing him while you rode out your own waves of pleasure. Your cries were muffled by his lips, by his tongue. It was somehow even more intense than the previous one, your juices flowing and dripping down his shaft.

Joel carefully collapses on top of you, his hands moving to gather your boneless form into his comforting arms. “There you go, sweetheart. You did so good. So good for me.” He whispers against your ear, turning your bodies to the side so you were snuggled against the hard planes of his chest instead of laying under him.

“Was it okay?” He asks, genuinely caring about your wellbeing whilst he peppers kisses all over your face. His softening cock slips out of you with a soft pop, a trail of your combined fluids leaking from your well-loved hole and onto the blankets below. 

“Okay?” You ask in a tired voice, your face pressed against his neck. “That was...that was fucking amazing.”

Joel chuckles, the deep rumble of it vibrating in his chest and filling your ear. “Good, kid. I’m glad.” There’s a sense of accomplishment in the way he holds himself in this very moment. He’s proud he’s satisfied you, turned your first time into something you’ll never forget. “Don’t worry about cleanin’ up just yet. Lemme hold ya’.” 

“Mhm..” You’re so out of it that you’re already falling asleep - and Joel’s kisses aren’t making it any easier to stay awake. The scent of him fills your nose, the comforting smell surrounding you in warmth and familiarity. “How…how was I?”

“The best I ever had. Ever.” His thick fingers start to trace invisible patterns around your back, his movements reverent - he was being genuine with his words, you could hear it in his voice. 

“Get some sleep, baby girl. I love you more than anything. And I mean that.” His breath nearly catches, a lump forming in his throat. The man quickly clears his throat, not wanting to get all sappy on you when you’re trying to sleep. Though, he does whisper one last thing before closing his own dark eyes, letting exhaustion wash over him as well.

“Anything, kid.”

[httpscomexe]

No, You Don't

Day 3 of Kink-Tober - Bondage

Summary: You knew he was crazy for you, but not that crazy.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: (Lmk if I missed any) Stalking, implied murder, blood, revolution, pv (Not very long), intruder, drugging, language, cheating, and finally, bondage kink. (I absolutely hate this, but lmk how you guys feel).

Main tags: @cellyx33 @shybluebirdninja

Word Count: 3295 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

He had everything figured out. It was the perfect plan to ask you to Prom. Everything was going to plan, at least on his side. He had already bought some flowers, and he made a poster all by himself (with a little help from Ned), so now all he needed to do was find you, ask you. Tell you his lines, the ones he rehearsed in front of the mirror about a thousand times. He knew exactly where you were right now. As soon as he turned the corner, he knew you would be standing at your locker. But he pauses. His eyes glued on you and…

Flash…?

What were you doing… his hands on your waist, and his lips connected to yours. Peters turns back around, using the wall as his shield.

He thinks about it. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was even true. It made no sense to him, he never expected you to kiss Flash of all people. But he knew he would have to do something about it. Something to ensure you were only his…

“Hey!” You hear his footsteps behind you before he stops in front of you, a huge smile on his face as his body keeps you from walking any further. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Home, Peter. I’ve had a long day.”

“Yea, I heard what happened, I’m sorry.” He steps aside, and starts walking next to you. He’s been rather clingy this week.

“It’s not that big of a deal, why are you apologising?”

“Well I know how bad you wanted to be in the play.”

“Not bad enough to care.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” You.

“I’m just tired, exams really snuck up on us this year.” You throw him a lame excuse, hoping he would just leave you be.

Obviously you didn’t hate him, but you weren’t exactly close to him either. You had no fucking idea who he was until he randomly decided to start popping up behind you in the halls, asking you random questions, or telling you random things about yourself, then the second Flash showed up, he shuts up, and leaves. It was weird, and you didn’t think much of it. You had even told Flash about it, which he wanted to kick Peter's ass, but you easily made him drop the situation, deciding it would be best to ignore it.

“Yea…” His voice goes quiet, and you know Flash is nearby.

“Hey baby…” Flash wraps his arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Hey loser.” He nods towards Peter, who offers him a half-witted smile and nod.

“Sup Flash.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “I’ll uh… I’ll catch you later Y/N, nice seeing you.” Peter turns, walking in the opposite direction from the exit.

“He’s so weird.”

“Hey don’t mean!” You smack his arm jokingly, his arm moving to go around your shoulders and press another kiss to your head.

“What? I’m not wrong. You know he’s fucking weird. He follows you everywhere you go.”

“I know… I think he’s just lonely.” You shrug, walking out the door as he holds it open for you.

“I’m still taking you home right?”

“Yes Flashy.”

“And date night tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Well shit… You groan, rolling onto your back, letting the outfit you had planned for tonight fall onto the ground for you to pick up later.

It didn’t bother you much that he cancelled the date the first time. Then there was a second time, then a third, and this was the fourth time. You were starting to get annoyed. It was a different excuse every time. There was first studying for an exam, he didn’t even show up to school the next day for the exam, then there was his dad in the hospital for breaking his arm, the next day you saw pictures on his facebook of him playing golf, last time is was his car broke down, and he didn’t want you driving because your car was in the shop, and now this.

Of course, you didn’t believe him. His mother always got back from work at 7PM, and the date was planned for 8. Also, you knew there was Saturday school today because your bestfriends little brother went there every Saturday. You are honestly debating just ending the relationship.

But he’s so sweet. You think to yourself, turning onto your side and hugging a pillow as you keep yourself from crying over some stupid boy. You’d been with him for three years now, and he wasn’t such a jerk in the beginning.

When you first started dating, he would show up randomly at your house while you were in your pyjamas and minion slippers eating pizza for breakfast, a beautiful set of flowers in his hands, a new one every week to replace the old ones. Now he doesn’t even buy you water. You knew something was up when he stopped throwing his arm over your shoulders in public. He’s only been doing it since Peter has been hanging around you.

Peter.

God he was annoying. Where did he even come from? You were just chilling in the halls looking through your locker like it was a fridge and some random snack would eventually appear, then he was there, with that stupid smile on his face that made him look like the most innocent puppy, the most adorable stupid smile, and all he said was ‘hi.’ before awkwardly walking away, you could swear he was sweating bullets.

You knew he liked you. He couldn’t possibly make it more obvious. With his daily goodmorning texts that you’ve only responded to about 3 times in the past two months, and nightly goodnight texts, and the three times a week good afternoon text when he wakes up late. You haven’t even put his name as a contact in your phone, you know that would only piss off Flash when he does his weekly “Do you have any boys in your contacts?” check every Monday.

Wow.

You lie there, staring at the wall.

How stupid were you? You were in one of the most toxic and un-trustworthy relationships possible and you’re only just now noticing it?

You put your all into Flash, making sure he was okay every second of the day, always the one planning days out. You were even expected to pay for the dinner tonight. Stupid considering he was the rich one in a big house.

You pick up your phone to check his location, he was home, and his little brother was at school. His parents were working.

You sigh. His little brother is at school. A bing comes from your phone, your friends name popping up as a notification: Hey, still going out with Flash tonight?

You toss your phone to the foot of the bed and sit up, not caring when it bounces off the mattress and falls to the floor and under the bed. That piece of shit. He was cheating on you. It was obvious, and you’ve deflected that thought a thousand times, you’ve never wanted to believe it, so hearing it was enough for the waterworks to break, thanking God you were home alone so you could cry as loud as you want, which you do.

Leaning back against your headboard, your hands move to your eyes as tears begin to fall down your cheeks, an occasional sob coming from your throat as you stand up. You were so fucking done. You take some jewellery from your desk, necklaces and bracelets he had bought you when you first started dating, and you throw it into a bag, then you storm over to your wardrobe and you find two hoodies that you had borrowed from you, tossing those next to the little plastic bag, your tears still falling from your eyes and clouding your vision as you curse profanities and complain about what’s happened. Then you freeze.

Your parents weren’t supposed to be home, but the sound of the floor creaking just outside of your room has your heart stopped. You were never a fan of being home alone, making every little sound scare the shit out of you.

But this wasn’t just a little sound. It was the creak of the floor, just a few inches from your door on the right most piece of wood that had made the sound, and that only happens when it’s been walked on. So yea, you were scared, and confused. Someone was outside your door.

“Layla?” You shout out, thinking maybe your sister got home from school early, but there’s no response. “Mom…?” Your voice begins shaking, and you reach back inside of your wardrobe, gripping the neck of a metal bat before approaching your door. “Is that you Hank?” You call another name, your dog's name, then your heart skips as you head quick heavy steps running down the hallway, and back down the stairs. “Alexa, lock the front door!” You shout, not sure why. You want them to leave, but you just lock the door and you dart down the stairs, following the sound of your dogs growling. You turn the corner and there Hank was, his hair standing on his back and his ears pinned to the back of his head. He was a big dog, a German Shepherd with a damned strong bite force. Something your moms ex found out the hard way. But Hank wouldn’t attack without a command, so he stood there, blocking the exit as he stared up and the man dressed in all black, a hoodie over his head. “Who are you?” You shout, gripping the bat harder as you prepare to help your dog fuck this dude up.

“I uh… I don’t want any trouble. I tried knocking but you didn’t answer, and the door was unlocked.” It was true, your mom never locked the door behind her when she left to work.

“So you think it’s okay to just walk in?” Your voice is stern, and you approach him, his eyes landing on your bat “Hank, go lie down, good boy.” You tell your dog, and he hides his teeth before leaving the door, giving the man a little side eye before walking away.

“I don’t want any trouble, I was just worried…” His voice cracks mid sentence, and you swear you recognised the voice. “P-Peter…?” He’s silent as he drops his hands and stares at you. He looks back at where your dog was standing before removing his hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” You shout as he walks towards you.

“You weren’t answering me texts, and they weren’t going through. I was worried.”

“So you come into my home uninvited?” He doesn’t say anything again, and his eyes drift down to the metal bat in your hand, which you keep a nice grip on.

“I’m sorry…”

“Get out.” You tell him, pointing towards the door he came in through.

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Well I don’t, get out.”

“I have a gift for you.” Of course he did.

“Look, I get you’re trying to be friendly, but I have a boyfriend, Peter.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice lowers, almost sinisterly as he approaches you, a little too close for comfort as you take a single step back. “Can we go to your room? Your dog is…” He turns around, his eyes landing on the dog who’s cautiously watching him. “A little paranoid.”

You think about it for a moment before sighing. What harm could he possibly do? You wonder, then turn towards the stairs as you lead him up to your room, the rightmost piece of wood creaking under your weight, and he closes the door behind him for you.

“What’s in it?”

“It’s a surprise, but do you have a restroom I could use first?” He asks, and you look him up and down, not sure you trusted him enough to even use his restroom, and you notice his gloves.

“Yea, it's over there.” You nod your head towards a closed door in your room, and he goes into it quickly after he places the box with a little pink bow on your desk.

What could he have possibly gotten you? You trail your fingers over the little pink bow on the white box, and curiosity gets the best of you, your index finger and thumb pulling open the bow, and then you open the box. The item inside is covered by black feathers, so you push them aside, and the second your eyes catch what's in the box, you’re horrified. An immediate sick feeling bubbling up through your stomach as you cover your mouth and involuntarily gag. That was a fucking finger. You tell yourself, sickened, but it wasn’t the worst part. The promise ring on the finger was Flashes. It was a little cold band, adorned with a little pink heart, and cute diamonds curling around the band itself. You had the same one on your ring finger.

You had to get the fuck out of there. You tell yourself, but your hand pauses just before you touch the door handle, which was covered in some sort of white shit. Spider webs? You tilt your head in question. Your phone. Where was your phone? You quickly make your way to your bed, tossing the sheets around in search of your phone, then the bathroom door opens. Peter stepped out, his hoodie off in place of a grey shirt you’ve seen him wear often, but it never had the dark stains on the front that it did now, and his presence immediately makes you back away from your bed, and to the other side of the room to create distance.

“I said it was a surprise.” He sighs, tossing his hoodie to the floor before reaching up and removing his shirt, leaving his chest naked. He was fucking built.

“You need to leave, Peter.” Your voice shakes, but it’s confident.

“Come on now, he was cheating on you. He deserved it.” His voice lowers as he stalks towards you, only stopping when your back hits a wall. You hear your phone buzz, and behind him you see the screen light up with a text from under your bed. You had dropped it earlier.

“Peter-”

“Shh…” He shushes you, pushing his lower body against you, still dressed in your pyjamas. “You deserve so much better than him.”

“Peter, leave. Now.” You whisper, your intent was to shout, but you can’t seem to with his proximity. It made you nervous.

“I just wanna touch you…” He tells you, one of his hands reaching to gently touch your waist.

“This is your last warning.” He chuckles, he thinks you’re joking. Fine. You tell yourself. I warned you. Your knee comes up, striking him in his stomach and he groans and curls over in pain as you rush over to your bed, your fingers an inch away before some sort of white string, the same on the handle of your door, shoots out and grabs your phone, looking back, it was now in his hand, the little white web connected to it.

“I tried to do this the easy way.” He squeezes your phone, and it crushes in his hands. “But I’m done waiting.” He growls, moving back towards you as you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankles and yanks you back before reaching down and pulling you up by your hair. “You don’t want to behave? Fine.” He tosses you onto the bed, moving you and manhandling you with his strength as he moves you to take off your shorts and top, leaving you in your red lace set. “See how pretty you are? Fuck.” He groans a little before bending down, leaning to lick a place between your thighs.

“Peter!” You shout, attempting to back away, but his grip moves to tighten on your waist.

“Just stay still…” His voice shakes with urgency, “I need to have you, I can’t wait any fucking longer…” He groans, pulling you close and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist before pushing his lips to yours, your hands instinctively pushing him away, but his hand just moves up, wrapping around your throat to keep you close, and you continue batting at him, but he seems locked onto you. “Stop fucking fighting me…” His voice shakes more, he’s desperate, you realise as he starts to hump you, your centre still covered by your thin lace panties, you hated to admit it, but it was turning you on. “Take these off…” He demands, but begins to do it himself, leaning back to hook his fingers through the lace of your panties before tugging them down your thighs, your hands swatting at him the entire time. “That's enough…” He growls, lifting you by your thighs as he throws you further back onto the bed, then he grabs your wrists and pins them against the bed frame.

“Fuck- Peter-!” Suddenly, your mouth is covered by more of the webbing as it shoots from a device on his wrist, then your wrists are also covered by the thick webbing, making it impossible to move your arms at all.

“Just stay still… We both need this.” You groan, the sound stifled by the webbing on your face. “You’ll love me when you feel how much better I am than him…” He reaches down and undoes his jeans, the sound of his zipper seeming to cloud your head before he slides the jeans down with his boxers, his cock springing free from it’s confinement, and he gives it a few strokes before inching closer to you, the sound behind the webbing on your face becoming more desperate. “God girl, staying so still…” He presses a kiss to your head as he lines his cock up with your pussy, seemingly admiring it as he strokes his dick. “Such a pretty pussy…” He whispers against your ear, then he slowly begins to slide his cock inside of you, not wasting any time in pumping in and out of you as he fills you perfectly. “Feels so good…” He groans, but it turns into a moan as you feel him already leaking inside of you. That was fast. You look him in the eyes as he pulls out faster than he’d gotten inside of you, his eyes meeting yours. “Fuck I’m sorry… You just feel so fucking good…” He groans, leaning down to press kisses to your throat and down your collar bone, and you’re frozen in fear, and in second hand embarrassment.

He reaches up, and tears the string off of your mouth, a whine coming from your lips as it painfully pulls on your skin, and you part your lips, short breaths leaving your throat as you sit with him between your legs, not sure what to do.

“I’m sorry baby I-”

“Get the fuck off of me…”

“Don’t talk to me like that…” He warns, pulling his pants back up with his boxers before reaching into his back pocket.

“I said get the fuck off of me Peter-” Your voice catches in your breath as he holds two little capsules in his hands, tearing one of the plastic things open with his teeth before attaching the needle to the bottle in his other hand.

Oh shit, oh shit.

“Won’t be such a smart mouth after this, will you?” He takes the lid off the needle with his teeth, then sticks it into the side of your neck, making you yelp, and of everything that’s happened today, that had to be the worst part.

 You fucking hated needles.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

This is a direct follow up to #391

#396

“Fuckface, I don’t care what demons your preacher dad put into your head.  The fact that you are coming to the realization that that part of your life is over.  He must have really fucked you up, cause I have never seen a twenty-year-old take a beating like that.  I shredded your back to ribbons, and all you did was say you were sorry over and over.  You almost make me feel sorry for you.  But I don’t….

“But the sad thing is I do care that I have the son of a vehement anti-gay preacher in my cab.  A son that was rock hard and leaking while I was laying my whip into you.  Did you know that?

“Yeah, while you were crying, your dick was loving every minute of it.  Let me ask you.  You want this?  You want to suck dick, take it up the ass, and get smacked around for a life?

“You are going to have to do more than nod.  Here, come back with me to my bunk.  You are going to suck on my dick a bit….  Kneel there between my legs while I lay back….  Yeah, I know you’re still sore, but oh well.  Help me get these pants off….

“Ok this is what I want you to.  I’m going to be filming you.  This will be your confessional and coming out video in one.  You are to suck my seven-and-a-half-inch fat dick, but I want you to pull off and talk to the camera from time to time.  But when you do, I want you to jerk my dick and rub it on your face continually as you talk.  You are to tell the camera that you love cock.  You can’t get enough of it in your mouth and  in your ass.  Tell the camera that you’ve been living a lie, and you denounce your previous life—a life you have no intention of returning to.  Also, tell the camera that you ran away from the first driver at the first chance you had.  He needs to be washed free from any responsibility of you.

“You got all that?  It is important that you hit every one of those points.  And when you are done sucking and talking, I’m going to lift my legs.  I want you to move down to eating my hole.  Make sure you moan.  Still stroke my cock.  I want to show the viewer how much of a pig you are.  You ready?  Look at the camera.  Go!…

“…

“…Atta boy.  That was good.  That video will definitely make a statement.  And I love that your gold cross from your necklace was able to make an appearance or two.

“You can stop slurping my shit hole now.  You’ll have plenty of time to do that later.  Help me get my legs down.  We need to get going, and I need to install you.

“Install is the right word here.  Here, put these wrist restraints on….  Yeah, you ain’t the first faggot I have bound up in here; you ain’t going to be the last either.  Normally I would just hogtie you to the bunk, but since I am bobtailing, it would be very rare that we’ll be pulled over by the DoT. 

“Here’s some ankle restraints for you to put on as well.  I own this trailer outright.  I have made a few modifications for my transport of fag meat.  These heavy-duty bungee restraints are better than chain or rope.  As we roll down the highway, they will keep you in place with your legs spread and secured to the sides. 

“Move aside; I need to be behind you.  This third bungee will connect your two ankles together.  All three will keep you centered with your legs apart.

“Give me your hand.  Your wrists will be attached to bungees as well.  I’ll have you standing spread eagle naked as we drive the next few hundred miles.  When I bought this tractor I made sure that there was a little extra room.  Some of these cabs can be so tiny.

“That one went on easy.  Now the other.

“…There!  How does it feel?  No, don’t bother answering.  I don’t care. 

“Damn you look good, being all stretched out.  Your back and ass are nicely welted up.  The bleeding seems to have stopped.  This is so hot.  Arch your back and stick your ass out.  I need to fuck it.

“I don’t have much time.  Damn you are still loose from earlier.  Fuck.  This cunt was really made for cock.  It’s not going to take me much time.  Oh yeah. 

“…Mmmmm.  Oh yeah.  This cunt is going to be used tonight.  I contacted my riding buddies.  You ever been gang banged by a bunch of gay and bi bikers?  They know how to use faggot piece of shits like you.  They know who you are and who your papa is.  They won’t care that you made those videos demonstrating your love for cock.  They’ll probably make their own videos too. 

“I’m getting close boy.  Tighten up around my dick.  Fuck yeah boy.  You ready?  You ready?  Here it comes boy.  Ahh. Ahh. Ahhhhhh!!!!

“Damn faggot.  You have a righteous cunt.  Clamp down as I pull out.

“We got to get going.  I still have a few things to add. 

“This is one of my creations.  It’s like an anal hook except that it’s got a butt plug on the end instead of a steel ball.  It goes in your cunt like this.  Normally faggots like you struggle, but with the amount of dick you received today, you have one giant gape.  It’s affixed to a metal rod that goes from your cunt and up your crack to the small of your back.  There this heavy chain will suspend you from the ceiling. 

“There’s no bungee on this.  It should help you deal with the truck movements.  I used to have a slave mounting post with a dildo mounted on the top, but it was too cumbersome to work with in this tight space.

“This collar gets secured to the chain as well.  Nothing puts a fag slave in its right frame of mind than a collar being locked on.  Well, excluding a back full of welts and cuts.

“This necklace and its gold cross is coming off.  You don’t need it anymore…. 

“Shut up!  That was a statement of fact, not an invitation for an open discussion….  I don’t give a shit who gave it to you.

“…Open your mouth.  …You are the reason why God created gags.  Hold still, I just got to buckle it on.  …There!  No more talking for you.  You’ll be blindfolded, but there are other things I need to show you.

“Hold still.  I need to get in front.  Can’t much drive while standing behind you.  Oh, I should hang this from the roof as well.

“OK move aside, now.  …There!  You look good there all spread out. 

“But I’m not done.  You need to be wearing my jewelry….  The first is a pair of titty clamps, and not just any titty clamps.  These have weights dangling from them.  It hurts, doesn’t it?...  Good.  Second set goes on.  Ha!  You can’t pull away.  Those bungee cords and the anal hook pull you right back in position.

“They’ll be tight, but you will still have blood flow.  Damn that looks better dangling on your chest than some gold chain with a cross.

“Oh lookie there!  With all that I am doing to you, your pecker is semi hard.  And look at those balls!  They are just hanging there.  Don’t worry.  I have something for them too.

“This is a ball collar.  It’s flat and wide.  It opens, closes, and locks in place rather easily Your sack fits in very comfortably in the half-inch space between the front and back pieces, but there is no way that either ball will be able to squeeze through.  Once it’s on, like I just locked it in place, there ain’t no way it’s coming off unless I allow it.

“Feels fine, doesn’t it? 

“The other interesting feature is that it has a ring in the center of the front and a matching one in the back.  And wouldn’t you know, I have weights to attach to it.  That’s one, …and that’s the second. 

“Oh look at those balls getting pulled away.  Fuck that’s hot. 

“I should say that the weights on your titties and your balls are attached with a strong elastic connector.  So they are going to be bouncing around.  Every pothole I hit, every uneven part of the road, every gear shift, this cab rocks back and forth. 

“We are bobtailing.  That means that there’s no trailer, no trailer to stabilize the movements of the tractor.  It’s going to be a bumpy ride, and those weights are going to be bouncing all over the place.

“You ready to get rolling?

“Oh wait.  There’s one more thing.  I need to show you this…. 

“…You look puzzled.  I bet you are thinking, why does a truck driver have a toilet brush?  There are no toilets in this cab…  well no porcelain ones.  I can’t speak to your talents… yet.

“And look at it.  It’s an expensive one.  Solid metal handle.  The bristles are firm.  I would hand it to you to feel, but your hands are otherwise occupied.  Trust me when I say this.  This fucker is heavy.

“Before coming to stand in front of you I hung a very elastic cord from the roof about 6 inches behind you.  This brush now hangs from it.  With every movement of this cab, it’s going to bounce and swing all around behind you.  It may even strike you, reaching anywhere from your thighs to your shoulders.  Your bloody welted back is a certainty. 

“Hey!  I just had a great idea.  Let me take your necklace and wrap it around the bristles.  That way as it strikes your back, you can thank your dad and thank Jesus.

“Ok blindfold on.  My secondary dash cam is filming your struggle.  And lastly, my noise canceling headset will be on.  If I can find one of your dad’s sermons on the evils of the gays, I will blast it for you to hear.  Found one. “Let’s get rolling.  Damn, not even into third gear and the screaming have begun.”

[onceonafullmoon]

Ikepri Yandere chart (least to most dangerous)

(These are just my interpretations on the 8 princes ofc, and I’ll def do another hc collection for the other suitors if y’all want!! The princes in the color lists below aren't in any particular order, so you can rearrange them in your head) Warnings: implied kidnapping, violence (towards reader and other people), murder, noncon elements and manipulation

Green- not a threat Orange- you’re on thin ice Red- pretty dangerous Pink- you’re screwed

Yves

The most sane prince of the bunch arguably, so he’s also the least likely to become a yandere and the least dangerous one.

He’s too soft and sensitive to manipulate, and he doesn’t have too many connections in Rhodolite due to his Obsidian heritage. The only thing he really has going for him is talent with the sword… which isn’t all that great.

But while Yves doesn’t have that many talents, he’s a hard worker and he’ll definitely do his best to keep you by his side, no matter what.

Honestly, it’s more like dealing with a really annoying pushy guy who can’t take no for an answer than anything really scary, but there’s always the underlying fear that he might snap on you whenever you’re alone.

Nokto

Nokto is pretty unstable and sensitive despite the front he puts up, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

Nokto has plenty of connections, so not only are you at risk of being hunted down by a rich benefactor’s mercenaries, any attempt of escape to another country be thwarted by his foreign allies

But don’t let his sly nature fool you, Nokto is deep down just a brat who wants to be held. And despite his manipulative nature, he’s hesitant to use those tactics on you because he truly does want you to love him back.

He’ll definitely try to come onto you a few times, but the likelihood of him forcing himself on you is practically non-existent, and he’s too squeamish to hurt you.

That’s being said, you’re still trapped with him for a lifetime, and you might just end up giving in.

Jin

With his aversion to love and the fear of becoming like his father, Jin becoming a yandere isn’t too likely… but sometimes fixation on not being something leads to being like it.

Jin’s a pretty physically tough guy and he’s well enough like by the people, so he’s got a few connections, but the most terrifying thing about him is the way he can get you to let down your guard.

He always uses whatever you’ve confided to him in secret against you by gently nudging you to go along with his ideas… after all, you trust him, don’t you? And if that doesn’t work, blackmail is definitely on the table.

Jin isn’t too scary, but he’s a bit… much at times, just a bit forceful when manhandling you. But he’ll never force you himself on you, swearing to himself that he’s at least better than his father in that sense.

Clavis

Oh sweet Clavis… despite his mischievous demeanor he really is just a pure hearted guy… that being said his desperate need to be loved can twist him.

Clavis has skills with the sword, shady business partners, and most terrifying of all, a very inventive and brilliant mind though he often underestimates himself.

I mean, (spoilers) he literally keeps an entire colony of people a secret from all the other princes (save Chevalier), how hard can it be to hide away one more person?

Not to mention, while he’ll never hurt you or force you to do anything you don’t want to do, he’s not above doing anything to put you in a more… vulnerable state.

You’re just going to have to pray he doesn’t figure out how to concoct a love “potion” for your own sake.

Leon

You might be surprised by his ranking here, but Leon despite the fact that he might not be very likely to be a yandere, is *very* dangerous.

Not only is he a talented swordsman, he has something that most of the other princes don’t have, a social life.

Okay, jokes aside, Leon is so likable and well respected that even if you do escape, hardly anyone will believe you, or if they do, they won’t even bother to care.

Leon isn’t completely deranged though, he’ll still allow you to push back and fight against him, but he has his limits too you know? Just don’t push too far, he’s not above roughing you up just a bit.

Chevalier

Yeah, you probably expected that he’d be pretty high up, huh? Well while he’s unlikely to fall in love, when he falls, he falls hard.

Chevalier might not have connections, but who needs connections when everyone is afraid of your sharp mind and skill with the sword? Not that escape from him is very likely anyway with his smarts.

The thing about Chevalier though, is despite his demeanor, he’s against unnecessary violence, so any worry about him attacking you in anyway is entirely unnecessary.

That being said, you’re not sure if the about the people you care about are in the same boat, and he knows that, so he uses that fear to keep you in check.

But he’s a genius after all, he’s sure he can make you fall for him eventually, it’s only a matter of time.

Licht

I bet you didn’t expect the babiest of baby boys to be so high up, but make no mistake, a man with nothing to live for has nothing to lose… except you, and he’ll do anything to keep you with him.

Licht is rumored to be one of the top swordsmen along with Leon and Chevalier, and while he doesn’t have any connections himself, Nokto is pretty willing to go along with whatever his twin brother wants.

But the thing that makes him so scary is the fact that he’s completely obsessed with you, he worships you, don’t you know?

Unlike the other princes before on this list, he has no qualms killing people if it’ll keep you with him. And he’s so obsessed he might force himself onto you if he thinks it’ll keep you around.

Be gentle with him. Not for him, but for you.

Luke

I mean, isn’t he basically already a yandere from what we’ve seen on his route? Platonically or romantically, if you catch this man’s attention, he’s going batshit insane for you.

It’s true that he’s the prince with the least resources having only known of his royalty for a few months, but he’s also the prince most willing to risk everything because of it.

After all, what care does he have for this kingdom? He only needs you, and he’ll do whatever he needs to keep you with him.

It also doesn’t help you that he has (spoilers) connections with the literal prince of Obsidian. If he needs to he can just grab you and cross the border.

And he’s honestly not above breaking a few of your bones if it means keeping you with him, though he might not force himself on you… hopefully. Just try not to set him off, he’s like a firework ready to explode at any minute.

[mavrintarou]

[8:53 AM] Hatake Kakashi

Happy (belated) birthday to my first love in all of anime history

Warning: medium spice/smut

.

Kakashi was too old to be out after 10 PM.  He took one last shot with his friends and family and excused himself, leaving the bar.

He checked his phone, no new messages were waiting for him.

The message he sent twenty minutes ago was left unread and he knew without a doubt why.

There was only one place he wanted to be tonight and he headed straight there.

.

He found her exactly where he had expected. She was stretched out on the couch, lying on her stomach, nose deep in a book, with headphones over her ears, likely playing the music she’d chosen as the soundtrack to her novel.

Her phone was nowhere in sight, so it was no surprise to him she hadn’t responded to him.

As if sensing someone was staring at her, she slowly shifted her intense gaze off her book and turned her head, her eyes widened and she squealed. “Kakashi!” she shouted, a hand over her heart. “You scared me!” She chuckled and suddenly frowned, “what are you doing here?”

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed onto her chest, seeing she was wearing an oversized shirt, her perky nipples erect against the materials. He could only guess why she was turned on from her book because it was hardly chilly. “I texted you.” He let himself in with the spare key she had given him. He approached her like a predator with their eyes locked on their prey. “Why didn’t you respond to me?”

Y/n quickly sat up on her knees, not before putting her bookmark in place before closing her book. She pulled off her headphones and set them aside before blinking and probably wondering where her phone was. “It’s charging in my room, I didn’t hear any notification through my headphones.”

Kakashi stood in front of her and cupped her jaw, tilting until their eyes connected. He loves her hazel eyes. With his height, she was at eye level with his hips. Her eyes dropped to his crotch and he growled, instantly hardening.

Her eyes shifted up towards his, “why are you here?”

“It’s my birthday,” he tells her, his thumb rubbing her jaw. “I wanted to see you…” he said what his heart longed to tell her.

“It’s your birthday?” Y/n’s tone is accusing as if she doesn’t believe him.

He reaches inside his back pocket and whips his wallet out at her.

With her jaw still in his grip, she snatches his wallet and opens it, seeing a wad of cash and cards and then his ID. “Well,” she looks up at him, “happy birthday Hatake Kakashi.” She hands his wallet back to him. “Should I feel special that you’re here with me on your birthday night?”

Kakashi’s eyes land on her lips and he hums. “You feel special even though I’m the birthday boy?”

He doesn’t take the wallet so she stuffs it inside his pocket. Her fingers hook around the loops of his belt and she tugs him closer. “Then, why have you disturbed me and my reading then? You shouldn’t have come if I didn’t respond to you. What if…” she looks up at him, “I was with someone else?”

His eyes narrowed, “are you with someone else?”

“Always with my book characters,” she answered teasingly. She jerks her jaw away, leans forward, and rests her forehead against his lower abdomen. Y/n let out a breath before turning her head to look up at him, “I thought we agreed we should stop seeing each other?”

Kakashi’s heart dropped and he sighed, he knew she would bring it up. He couldn’t help but hope she wouldn’t. That he could fuck her good and he could leave, like all the other times.

But the last time, three weeks ago, she dropped the bomb on him, wanting to end things between them.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” She said after he pulled up his pants. She tossed him his shirt. “Let this be the last time, okay?”

He’s done it more than once, ending things with other women, and never had a problem walking away. But he couldn’t help but feel like he was just punched in the guts by her words. “Okay,” he answered coldly, pulling his shirt on. He muttered before taking off, “take care, Y/n.”

And that was the last time they have spoken.

Kakashi’s hand slipped underneath her jaw and gently forced her to look up at him again. “I know, but I can’t stay away and I realize,” he swallowed, “I don’t want to be away from you anymore.”

 “What are you trying to say?” she asked after a few seconds of silence.

“That I’m in love with you, damn it.” He growled before dropping down and crouching in front of her. “I’m in love with you and I want to be with you, just you.” He declared softly, staring straight into her hazel eyes. “Tell me you want that too?”

Their relationship started as a one-night stand that eventually became multi-night stands. They both understood their needs for each other and sought out one another when their needs needed to be met.

Kakashi saw another woman aside from Y/n and over time, he realized he was beginning to see Y/n in her. He could no longer deny that his heart was making a spot for Y/n. Eventually, he cut all ties with this other woman and only focused on Y/n.

His career had him traveling far and constantly that he did not want to settle. He doesn’t know when things started changing, but he found himself wanting to be home more, wanting to just see her, wanting more relationship-related things. He stayed the night once and woke up with her in his arms and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt something so right.

Everything felt right with Y/n.

“Kakashi,” Y/n whispered, her eyes softened. “Are you sure? Are you sure… you I’m enough?”

He lets out a chuckle, “I should be asking you that, am I enough and worthy for you? Compared to your book boyfriends?”

She scrunches her nose and looks away thinking. “Some of them are debatable but want to know a secret?” She beckons her hand for him to come closer and leans to whisper in his ear, “you’re who I imagine in my books… with brown hair… black hair… it’s always you.”

Kakashi groans, his grip on her tightened. “You always know how to rile me up.”

“Stand up,” she murmurs with authority.

He raised a brow and stood up and his eyes bulged when she reached for his belt buckle. “What – what are you doing?”

She freed him, freed his cock out from his boxer briefs. “I want you – in my mouth.” She peered up at him beneath her lashes. Her hand fist around his cock, barely going wrapping around his cock as she brings the tip to her lips, rubbing his pre-cum along her lips. “These lips…” she kissed the tip, “or the other lips?” She reached to touch between her legs, no doubt rubbing herself.

“Both?” he asked, hopeful in his tone.

“Since it’s your birthday… I guess I’ll let you be greedy.” Her mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock, her tongue swirling and lapping along the ridge of his cock. She could feel the veins against her tongue and took him further into her throat until she gagged.

Kakashi gaze down at her watching her choke on his cock as he combed his fingers through her air. Grabbing her face firmly, he began thrusting into her mouth, rocking his hips and groaning in pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum…” he announced and spills down her throat. He praised her, “good girl… my good girl…” he pulled out and watched some of it drip down the corner of her lips. “Always so good for me… no wonder… you stole my heart.” His thumb wipes away the residue and he licks it.

He hauls her over his shoulder and marches to her bedroom in one swift movement. His palm slaps across her ass, “now onto the other lips.”

Y/n giggles as she pushes her hands against his ass to hold herself upright. She gives his tocks a good squeeze, earning another slap to her ass from Kakashi. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

With a hand pressed behind her upper back and one wrapped around her knees, he gently lowered her down onto her bed. He crawled and straddled her, towering over her.

“I need the truth,” he rasped, “do you – do you want me for me… for 44-year-old me?” He pauses, to see her attention is all on him.

It made him uncomfortable when he discovered how she would give him all of her, sincerely and genuinely. He never had a woman want him for himself before until he met Y/n. She’d gazed at him and listened to him, wanting to know things that no one else bothered to ask. At first, Kakashi had no intention of keeping her around when she began wanting to know how his day went, and how work was going… he didn’t want to give her hopes of being a boyfriend. But she genuinely wanted to know his day, know who he was and he couldn’t deny her that. He longed to feel needed and not just be a distraction. He wanted permanent, not temporary.

“I have a demanding career there might be times I won’t see you for weeks on end,” he swallows the lump in his throat. “All my life, being in the military was all I needed and known… until you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Since meeting you, you rewired my entire existence and it scared me, scared me shitless.”

“Kakashi…”

“You’ve made me want to finish up my mission faster and safer… so that I can come back to you,” he admitted softly. “When you told me you wanted to end things with me, it destroyed me and I did what I did best… run. It wasn’t until the days got closer to my birthday that I had a reality slap, making me realize that I was going into another year of life, and for once, I wanted something different. I wanted to make a difference.”

He inhales softly, “I don’t know what I can give you, for sure my heart… and mind-blowing sex… but anything you want from me, I’ll give it to you. Just give me you too.” He rests his forehead against hers. “So, will you take me?”

Y/n’s fingers thread through his silver hair from the back of his neck. “I have fallen in love with you the moment you began reading my books with me…”

Kakashi let out a laugh, “they are good…” he paused and his eyes widened, “you love me?”

She nods, “yep, for a while.”

A soft breath exhales from his chest, “I don’t deserve you, but I want you still… tell me, do you want me? You still haven’t answered.”

“Always.”

“Okay, Professor Snape,” he teased, pressing his lips to hers. “Can I… take your offer on the other lips?” He slipped his hand inside her panties, feeling her wet sex. He slipped a finger inside, groaning. “Can I?” he eagerly asked.

“Yes, always…”

Looking into her eyes, he smiles, “no more fucking… just love-making…” he frowned at her pout, “what?”

“But I like your fucking though…”

He groaned, he loved her innocent dirty mouth. “You can have both – fucking-love-making…”

. . .

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[reccyls]

The Robin Who Grazed the Reaper’s Secret Eagerly Awaits His Words (Part 2)

My translation of Victor's 2025 birthday story

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue (Victor's POV)

---

In the sitting room of an orphanage, we sat opposite of the young man who was in charge of the facility.

Victor: If you have any difficulties, feel free to share them with us.

According to William’s mission report, the previous orphanage director and his associates had been dealt with.

(The former director had abused the children here, and even taken part in human trafficking.)

Orphanage Director: I know I’ve only just become the director recently. Orphanage Director: But there are still some children who are wary of me…

The troubled director had no clue about what his predecessor had done.

(William’s fake mission was to verify whether or not the new director had any connection to the previous one.)

But Victor had already determined the man’s innocence.

Victor: If it’s all right, could we meet with the children?

…

The director showed us to the orphanage’s garden, where I could hear excited voices chattering.

Kate: They look like they’re doing well.

Victor: The most important thing for children is that they’re happy.

Victor’s profile as he watched over the children was overflowing with affection.

Victor: When these children grow up, they will be the foundation that supports this country. Victor: Just like you.

His hand was still holding mine. Aside from his warmth, there was something else that made my heart race. And right then, a boy pointed at us.

Energetic Boy: Those grownups are being lovey-dovey!

Kate: L-Lovey dovey!?

At the boy’s shout, the other children began ooh-ing and aah-ing as they gathered around. However…

(Ah.)

At the periphery of my vision, I could see a girl with a guarded look in her eyes. Victor noticed her too, and he smiled.

Victor: Everyone, look closely! On the count of three, flowers are going to fly out of our hands!

Raising our joined hands high in the air, Victor encouraged the children to count along.

Victor: Three! Two! One! Abracadabra!

Children: Wow!!

I was as surprised as the children were when flowers began raining from our hands.

Victor: Oh? I think today’s a good day for me. Victor: That’s not all I’ve got!

Flowers sprouted from Victor’s sleeves, and doves flew out of his coat.

(That girl looks a little more relaxed now.)

I looked over the girl, who was now looking directly our way.

Victor: Kate.

I realized that Victor had slipped something into my hand, and then I slowly approached the girl. When I reached the nervous girl, I crouched down and opened my hand.

Wary Girl: Wow…

A flower unfurled in my palm.

Kate: That mister over there is really good at magic tricks. Kate: Do you want to watch some more with me?

It took some time, but the girl eventually nodded and put her hand in mine. Making sure she was okay, I stood up.

Kate: Let’s go!

…

In no time at all, we’d gotten close to the children and played with them in the garden. However…

(I’m… at my limit… Victor’s amazing…)

He was the exact opposite of my exhausted self, still overflowing with energy as he played with the children. Even the children who were initially wary were now happily running about hand-in-hand with Victor.

(The mission may have been fake, but I’m glad we came here today.)

Even if Crown punishes the wicked, the wounds of those affected by their evil don’t disappear. But life goes on.

(So that no one will ever hurt anyone like these children have been hurt…)

Kate: I need to work harder.

Victor: I think you already work hard enough.

Kate: Victor! I thought you were still playing with the kids?

I didn’t notice when Victor had sat down beside me. He gave me a self-pitying smile.

Victor: I’d forgotten that children have infinite energy.

He let out an enormous sigh, and as I laughed, I placed my hand over his.

Kate: You shouldn’t work too hard either, all right?

Victor: Hm?

Kate: Both Crown and I care about you a lot. We don’t want you to push yourself too much. Kate: When you find yourself overwhelmed, it’s fine to reach out to someone else for help.

Victor normally works so hard that we’ve had to resort to creating a fake mission to get him to take a break.

(It really does worry me…)

Victor: You’re the same as ever.

A gentle, yet somehow melancholy, smile found its way onto Victor’s face as he brushed my cheek. When I realized he was touching me, I felt my face heat up. But then–

Kate: Oh!

I suddenly remembered something important, and stood up abruptly.

Victor: Kate? What’s the ma-

Kate: I- I, um. I have to, uhh, wash my hands!

Throwing out the first excuse to cross my mind, I raced away, ignoring Victor’s calls behind me.

…

(William helped make the reservation, but I’m still amazed at how well it turned out. I’m glad.)

Carefully packed in the box I was holding to my chest was Victor’s birthday cake. The important errand I had to run was to pick up the cake William and I had ordered.

(Victor must be pretty worried right now after I ran off…)

The cake shop was only a few minutes away from the orphanage. However, the sun was now beginning to set, so I quickened my pace.

Kate: I hope Victor likes it.

Absorbed by my thoughts, I didn’t notice the hand reaching out to me from behind.

Kate: Wha-

The moment I realized that something was being pressed against my mouth, I felt myself growing weak. The box slipped from my grasp.

Kate: Vic… tor…

The world went dark.