#anyways smooches to either and or both

[kindahoping4forever]

Cake @ The 5SOS Show Tour Buenos Aires Night 1 - 19 July 2023

[tender-rosiey]

smack, smack — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: special thanks to the beautiful @stinkyme for inspiring me to actually write this and for fangirling over the idea with me <3

gojo satoru, like any dad, got his fair share of ‘bullying’ from his daughter, his 5 months old baby.

some dads get peed on, others get their hair pulled, and others get their nose bitten on the daily. it's a little something to make them suffer a bit like the mothers had to during the pregnancy.

your husband, however, is always getting smacked in the face whenever he has his blindfold on, and I mean harshly smacked in the face and unforgiving scratching.

the first time it happened was when he was going to school. he was ready, uniform on and everything, but he simply had to say goodbye to his two girls.

skipping to your shared bedroom, he placed two big smooches on your face. then, after much of pulling him off you, he went to smooch his little girl. a big unmatched grin was on his face as he looked down at her in her crib.

he picked her up, cooing softly at her, “what a pretty girl, just as pretty as your mama, huh?”

satoru then laid her gently against his chest and started rocking her softly, while humming. after a while, he felt her stir a little in his arms. she sleepily looks up at him, and he smiles down at her, “good morning, baby—“

now, your daughter was used to seeing her dad without the blindfold. she was used to getting met by her dad's bright blue eyes.

so when a strange unknown man was holding her up instead of her papa, she started wailing and screaming, repeatedly smacking him in the face.

whenever her little—strong—hand landed on the blindfold, she would try to pull it off with all her baby might. you scrambled out of your bed at the loud screeches and screams of both your husband and your daughter.

you saw how satoru was desperately trying to, as gently as possible, make her release her grip. you stumbled on your words, before yelling, “your blindfold! take off your blindfold off!”

“I! am! trying!” he yelps as she continues slapping the hell out of his face.

you hurry and take his blindfold off, swiftly throwing it to the side. he started rocking her, smiling despite the red marks and scratches all over his handsome face, “it’s me, daddy! you see me?”

almost magically, your daughter calmed down in an instant with the occasional hiccup from her previous crying. he smiled, “there you go; that’s my girl.”

she gently made grabby hands at him, and he quickly pulled her back into his chest. your daughter instantly snuggled into his shoulder and hid her face in his neck.

you stared at him for a moment, “well, at least we know that she bloody hates that blindfold.”

it honestly kind of adds up.

you remember the many times that your daughter was generally distressed or fussy and instantly calmed down when she saw her dad’s eyes. you also remember that one time your daughter was actually zoning out while looking at satoru’s eyes, her own safe place.

satoru chuckles with a shrug, “I have you as my savior, anyway.”

“you can’t always count on me to be the one to save you from our daughter’s monstrously strong grip.”

and he can’t.

no one is brave enough to try and to fight back a baby, let alone the strongest sorcerer’s baby.

that attack happens way more than satoru would like. for example, whenever you’re busy, he takes his little princess to the school with him. in general, everyone helps in taking care of the little angel (devil in some cases).

however, god forbid she sees satoru coming back from a mission with his blindfold on.

it took some time for your husband to learn his lesson and immediately take his blindfold off before he entered the school. until then, he was prone to his daughter’s crazy strong hand smacking his face till his entire face is painted red and not the cute kind.

satoru never believed in his students to save him, except for yuuji. the first time it happened around the students, most of them were either laughing or speechless.

yuuji did try to save his sensei from his smacking machine of a daughter, but ended up getting smacked himself.

your husband did hope that, maybe, nanami’s heart would soften, and he would finally help him.

nanami’s heart did soften, just not for satoru. instead, your daughter now has a special soft spot in nanami’s heart, as he did in hers, but that isn’t our topic for today.

the amount of times you would enter the room to find nanami chuckling or smiling at your husband getting beaten to a pulp by your baby. satoru could be sobbing, “nanami, please! save me!”

and nanami would simply smile—sadistically—and hum, “I don’t think I will.”

you’re pretty sure that nanami believes this is god’s way of punishing your husband for all the mischief he caused.

ignoring that, it grips your heart how satoru’s face would brighten up the moment he saw you. he would run up to you, giving you the baby to calm her down while he gives his face a rest.

and your little girl was smiling and giving you her version of cheek kisses.

your husband recovered quickly though, and took her back, his blindfold finally off. he doesn’t do it without pecking your lips though, “my savior.”     

then he gets lost in his own world with his little girl, and their laughs and giggles filled the room. her hands were gently holding her dad’s face as she squeals, and satoru’s heart soars as he forgets about his beating from a moment ago.

now, that doesn’t mean that his dear students don’t make fun of him for always losing against his little girl. during one of the recent teasings, he simply huffed, “you never tried the grip of a baby! tell them, yuuji!”

yuuji shudders as he remembers how long the slap mark lasted, “she is one hell of a strong baby.”

it’s one thing for panda and nobara to laugh, it’s another for megumi and maki to do so as well. your husband’s ego simply couldn’t take it anymore. he took his baby in his arms and gathered the baby bags, sparing one last glance at his ‘bullies’.

and so your husband dramatically exits the room, “I need my wife! I can’t with you people anymore!”

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[blujayonthewing]

'she probably needs someone to talk to that isn't a teenage druid boy with his own problems and traumas who is played by justin' -- yet another unexpected thing that melliwyk and aubree have in common

[323cutie]

so we've already talked abt kissing woosan... have u guys ever thought about kissing yungi.

because kissing yunho sends you to another dimension. he's more casual than sensual with his kisses, more likely to give you little pecks and smooches rather than take every kiss slow. but he's sweet -- he likes to use kisses as a form of payment. you want him to switch the laundry? one kiss, please. you want him to run and grab your favorite drink? hmm, that might cost you two... you know that he'll do these things for you anyways, but you also know that you both love indulging each other. not to say that you only get sweet, cute kisses. yunho just reserves the slower kisses for intimate moments alone with you. there's something different about him here, something that automatically commands your attention and obedience. he determines the pace, the vibe -- a hand on your neck, always, holding you steady. and, ugh, he really is a tease, the way he laughs at your little noises, murmuring to you about how bad you want his kiss. heavy, deep, half-lidded eyes watching as you chase his lips when he pulls away even just for a second... he doesn't stop you, though. and when he pushes forward to kiss you again, even harder, you don't stop him either.

kissing mingi leaves you breathless. he's just so happy to have you close to him, he'd probably do whatever you asked. eager, but not necessarily in a rush. he always, always holds you tight, arms wrapped all the way around you. even if you're planning on a quick peck, he's prepared to hold you close to him for a while. he rarely ever lets you get away with just one kiss, and if you try to pull away before he's got his fill (which is never, really) he whines. he's not above begging, either. he asks for more, wants you to stay close, wants to feel you just a little bit longer. he manages to calm himself down when you're out and about, but often he tends to back you into a secluded corner just so you can have your way with him. and you can't say no to him! it's impossible when he's giving you puppy eyes and pouting. so you indulge mingi in what you know you both want, and after he's decided that maybe he can let you go, he spends another long while pressing little kisses all over your face. it's ritual, at this point -- your forehead, your temples, each of your cheeks, your nose, then one final kiss on your lips (that always threatens to send you back to where you started). you're both giggling by the end of it, lovestruck and spineless.

[ram-bles]

a crumb of nsfw daisuke?

daisuke x reader | headcanons

requests/inbox: open

[ 🔞 minors dni ]

woah. from sweet to spicy. ill give this a try!

wrote this on mobile, sorry for the fuckass formatting.

gender neutral reader. sillies. lots of sillies. weed mention (like once).

🌺 c'mon, he somehow sneaked in some of his secret stash'a magazines. he's still a guy after all.

"Dai?" "Yeah?" He's busy on his Gameboy, but he acknowledges you, tilting his body to show his face but his eyes were glued to the screen. "Did you steal these porn mags from Jimmy or someth—" A pink blur suddenly pushes you away, using his feet to kick it back under his bed. "DUDE. PRIVACY. C'MON NOW."

🌺 You've probably caught him once or twice even before you two were a thing. It wasn't hard to, after all, you both shared a room.

Too lost in the sauce to even notice you, so you had to clear your throat. You've never seen someone so shocked to the point he doesn't know whether to shove his dick back in his pants, hide under the blankets, or try to do both at the same time but completely failing. He's stuttering your name out along with strings of apologies. Don't get your dick caught in your zipper now, Daisuke. "I didn't know you were there! Shitshitshit- I'm so so sorry- Aghhhh." He felt pathetic, whining in embarrassment. Daisuke ends up just pulling the blanket over the entirety of him. "You could've just asked me for help, y'know." He stares at you, scandalized as if he wasn't rubbing one off just moments ago. "How the fuck was I s'posed to know?!" You shrug, amused. "Dunno." "Man, fuck youuuu." "Happily." "Get over here already, please!"

🌺 Outside internship though? Weed before sex seems like something he'd do. I can't explain why.

🌺 Feeling his rings on you... in many ways.

🌺 Pretty sure we all agree that he's into praising. Both giving and receiving.

🌺 You know he's having lots of fun when the pitch of his voice goes high. Squeaking, voice cracking, whining.

🌺 Speaking of how vocal he is, he's probably loud too. But, since you're in the ship now, he'll try his best to keep it down, either on the pillow or you. He'll also be rambling about random things just so he doesn't finish early.

🌺 Dirty talking? ❌ He'll be cringing like there's no tomorrow. He'll make a discord (or whatever equivalent) kitten joke about it if he does.

🌺 Unintentional dirty talking though... That's another story. Or should I rephrase, more-so leaning towards cussing.

"Fuck— you're sosososo pretty..." His hands were pressing the back of your knees, folding and spreading your legs for him. He whines your name out, resting his length on your abdomen while he impatiently waits for your permission. "C'mon, pretty. I'll be this deep inside you." - "Feels good. Feels so good." He's panting and rutting into you like a dog. "You should- nh- loosen up a little- shit- if you get any tighter I think I'll cum..."

🌺 Quickies galore. Sure, it's less risky, but with his libido? Anyways, he's pretty easy to please anyways. A round or two would probably be enough for him.

🌺 Wearing his clothes while at it? Mega turn on for him.

🌺 Well, yes his libido is high, but you still need to be straightforward with him. He can't take hints...

"Want head?" "?!? Who's head?!" "YOUR DICK." "YOU'RE CUTTING IT OFF?" "WHAT? NO, I MEANT SUCKING YOUR—" "Good morning to you both too." "CAPTAIN?"

🌺 He loves giving and receiving hickeys. You would have to remind him everytime not to mark too high on your neck.

🌺 His aftercare involves lots of cuddling and lots of smooching.

🌺 Ending with a silly note. The first time you've done it with him, he ended up saying thank you since he didn't know what to do.

[simpjaes]

insane thought but…. (random too)

imagine you’re saying goodbye to everyone after a party/meetup or anything of that sort with jake and he’s DRUNKKK like you can smell the alcohol from miles away, and he’s kinda leaning into you for support, and he’s so drunk to the point he’s voicing his thoughts about getting back home.. IFYKWIM🙂‍↕️

(sigh i love my brain sometimes)

-💌

content: you're best friend's with jake and learn how bad he's wanted between those thighs all these years. also, this has fluff, drunken confessions, desperate pining. uh...mentions of him jerking off next to you when you're sleeping.

not proof read.

It's tomorrow, and everyone seems so excited for you. Jake can't help but feel a little broken inside either, with the way your eyes light up at each person smooching your face with a wet and messy "goodbye."

It's not fair that you're just going to leave him like this. Not before he got his chance anyway...

It's his own fault, sure. Maybe he should've taken his chance last summer when you very much looked like you were about to kiss him. Why did he turn his head solely because he was nervous about it?

Or maybe, he should have taken the chance when your last ex broke up with you. The way you leaned on him, clinging to his sweater with hot tears in your eyes. You looked so pretty despite being so hurt, he wanted nothing more than to kiss away all those bad feelings and show you that the guy was nothing but a practice run for a real relationship. He was just a guy to help you raise your standards, even.

Or, maybe he should have taken his chance last night when he was sleeping in your bedroom one last time. In your bed like always, you had cuddled up to him as you fell asleep, pillow talk turning far more intimate than he thought it ever would. "You should come with me." You had mumbled. "I'll feel empty without you." You trailed off after that.

He chose to believe you were just sleep talking. Despite knowing you well enough to understand that you've never fucking sleep talked.

So, that leaves him here. Understanding that he missed every single fucking chance intentionally. And now, he's not even sober enough to approach you in a way that would even matter.

Except it does matter.

A lot.You were leaning against a window with your friends, relishing in the vibes of your "goodbye" party one last time when you glance to your best friend.

Never before have you seen the look on his face. He looks...determined? Angry? sad? You're not sure. You make note in your sobering mind to give him a longer, more loving goodbye than anyone else. He deserve it after all.

And after you do those goodbyes, knowing that the party will likely continue long after you're gone, you make your way to Jake.

He's far more drunk than you've ever seen him too. Cheeks dusted with reds and pinks, ears burning hot, even his hair is sticking to his forehead as he looks at you. He can barely even stand when you reach him.

You're quick to place your hands on his arms, helping him stand up straight when you go to speak, but you're cut off immediately.

"You can't go," He says, stumbling into you and holding you tightly against him. His alcohol breath is strong and hot against your cheek, but you're not sure how to respond. "You can't. I haven't even-"

You pause, trying to pry yourself from his grip and trying to ignore all the eyes on you, but he doesn't let you do either.

"I don't care who knows, I only cared if you knew." He slurs, holding you tighter. "I don't understand how you don't."

You successfully push away from him this time, looking at him both in pity and out of confusion.

"What don't I know?"

"I want you so bad right now.." Jake breathes. "Come home with me."

You feel your breath catch in your throat at those words. Truly, you stop breathing for a moment as you look at him. He stares back, blinking out of sync but still hopeful, looking at you in a way you've never noticed before now.

"Huh?" You retort, thinking you must have heard him wrong.

"Feel." He says, grapping your hand and pressing it between his legs, allowing not only you, but anyone who is watching to witness the proof of his words. "I need you."

You yank your hand back, mostly out of embarrassment, feeling a bit vulnerable in this situation.

"Come home with me." Jake mumbles again, now starting to hiccup.

Right, he's just drunk.

"Come on, I'll get you home." You finally say, sighing.

Did you get your hopes up a little bit?

Maybe. But he's clearly out of his fucking mind right now, and it really is probably for the best that you take him home and make sure he's all tucked in with water and a pain reliever.

And you do try. Letting him wobble his legs and balance against you as you walk him out. Whispering to you the whole way. He goes from being cheeky to almost...sad. Pleading, even.

"Need you so bad,"

"I can't keep pretending like I don't"

"You want me too, right?"

"Right? You've thought about it? About me?"

And when you continue to avoid his questions, he falls silent for a moment. Now outside, being put into your car.

You hear him briefly before you close the door.

"I'd make it feel so good, i promise."

Goddamn him for being so fucking drunk. Some people say that when you're drunk, your words are sober but you find that incredibly hard to believe right now. After all, you've tried to lay down hints for Jake. You moved on, not wanting to keep feeling rejected. And now...this?

By the time you place yourself in the driver's seat, that short moment of silence away from him did little to help.

"Please, tell me you've imagined it.""It's not just me, right?"And he keeps going. A loop of the same questions before...

"Yes! Jake! I've thought about it! A lot, actually. Now can you please stop talking? You're too drunk right now and it's starting to fuck with my head."And for a moment, you thought he'd listen to you. Just a moment, really. He throws out another question now, letting it linger in the air, forcing you to slam on your breaks in the middle of an empty street just to stare at him.

"Did you touch yourself?"You narrow your eyes at him, unable to see too much in the light of the moon but you can tell that same hopeful look is welling up in his eyes.

"Did you?" You breath out, questioning him back.

"Fuck," Jake breathes a half moan at your face alone right now, awestruck by how the night shades your face so beautifully. "All the time..." He sighs now, smiling as if he's remembering each session he's fucked his fist to you as a fond memory.

You eye his figure down for a moment before you manage to start driving again, thinking hard about if he's being truthful, or just horny.

"For how long?" You ask.

"How long what?"You roll your eyes at his hiccups, rewording your question for him.

"How long have you, you know, masturbated to me?"

"Years." He says it like a period on a sentence. As if he's answered the question millions of times and to be honest? It's making your brain spin with emotion.

"When was the last time?" You pry now, rubbing your legs together.

"This morning."

Pause, you hold back a small groan knowing Jake was in your bed with you all morning. Honestly, he didn't even move.

He notes your silence, but also notes your lack of discomfort too.

"You were asleep, I've learned how to be quiet over the years..." He mumbles, only now realizing how weird it actually is.

"Jake..." You carefully whisper. "Why are you doing this to me, knowing I'm moving away?"

His voice rings once more.

"Because maybe you won't, if you let me try."

[silverzoomies]

Can you do 100 from the smut prompt list with Peter (Dark Phoenix version) but can you make it where the reader is his wife and he still is gentle and loving with her.

I really want to see how you would write a more romantic Peter

Pancakes

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, domestic, married couple, cock warming, risky sex, creampie, implied/referenced breeding

word count: 2,762

a/n: this one's for you, purple cat !! apologies, i'm rusty with my writing and characterization right now. probably will be for a while. sorry the ending's so abrupt !!

Peter races ceaselessly back and forth. Like a fast paced pendulum in full swing, he juggles his two most demanding responsibilities. The X-Men and teaching. His multiple jobs and total lack of free time are some of the many downsides of being a grown ass adult. He doesn’t wanna complain too much though, since the work is definitely rewarding overall. Like fo’ sho, he’s not gonna deny the perks.

But even with those sweet positives - making both money, and a name for himself; your superhero husband rarely has time for you anymore.

Peter hopes you’ll forgive him. Again. As he ambles into your shared room after another heinously long day, his body is littered in scrapes and bruises. Echoes of battles won. The wounds will surely heal by next morning. You know this as well as you know him. But you still insist on patching him up anyway, after Beastie’s already taken care of him twice over. You’re just so damn doting. It makes Peter feel even worse for waving you off.

He guarantees you a quick peck on the lips and a “love you, gorgeous.” Before he finally succumbs to mental fatigue. A tired fog of exhaustion beckons him to collapse into bed. You beg Peter to stay up a bit longer. An hour, at least. But just as you get a word in, he’s already conked out. Snoring away.

Within three hours, he wakes. You sleep soundly next to him. Snug as a lil bug. Peter presses a loving smooch to your sleepy head. Ruffling your hair, he bolts out the door promptly after.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Every day. For months on end. His schedule never seems to align with yours.

Peter misses you so bad. He misses spending time with you. Laughing together. Cuddling for brief instances, cuz he can never sit still long enough for it to last. He misses making small talk. Only to glance at the clock and find hours unknowingly passed. Peter longs to take you on spontaneous trips across the country again, trying pancakes at every small town diner he can find.

And to put it bluntly - he desperately yearns to make love again. To you. His smokin’ hot wife - Mrs. Maximoff - and no one else. After months of pent-up frustration, he’s about ready to burst at the seams. It physically pains him when he remembers how often the two of you used to bone. So many times a day. Every day.

Peter still wonders if his speedy swimmers are even worth a damn. With all the raw, passionate sex he had with you - it’s a miracle you never followed the Maximoff family trend of carrying twins.

He even misses the more shameful moments shared with you. Like the times he surprised you with truckloads of gifts, spoiling you rotten - after he forgot your anniversary. Again. And again and again and- …hey, he warned you, long before the two of you ever got married. Peter isn’t the most reliable lover. He’s never been “boyfriend material,” as they say. And he knows now, better than ever; he most definitely isn’t “husband material" either.

But he really does love you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. About as much as he loves Wanda. Which is an astronomical amount of love, if he's being honest. And if he were born with some reality-warping mutation instead, Peter would move the heavens and Earth just to make you happy.

Times are tough for mutants these days, though. There’s still so much work to be done. Classes to teach. Rights to fight for. People to save. No shortage of those.

You know he isn’t to blame for his absence. And he knows you know it. But still...it just...it sucks! He needs to be there for you, as much as you wanna be there for him.

And when the X-family comes together on a Friday night for a much needed break - more than anything in the world, Peter looks forward to spending every second with you. As soon as you walk into the lounge room, Peter pulls you straight into his arms. You’re wearing a tasteful dress you picked out just for him. It makes you look like a goddamn knockout. But all he wants is to tear it off you and press his bare body against yours. To feel your soft, luscious skin get sweatier under the natural, burning heat of his own.

The team play a few board games together, sharing drinks, gorging on Remy’s best gumbo. Peter gets a slap on the wrist with a ladle, after Lebeau catches him sneaking a third bowl - before anyone else even has their first.

It’s an easygoing, chillaxed affair. And throughout the night, your silver fox husband keeps you close like a magnet. Attached at the hip. He’s uncharacteristically clingy, touching you as much as you’ll allow in a sociable space. Calloused hands tenderly graze your skin as he offers to hold your drink. Peter’s fingers splay against your lower back, curling in, drawing affectionate circles.

You make your rounds and mingle with the family. Peter follows you around like a lost dog in need of attention. He keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, taking every opportunity to secretly grope your ass. You sneak him a few wary glances. Wordless warnings. Bringing his drink to his lips, the fine lines of Peter’s dimples pull in a lazy grin. He averts his gaze elsewhere.

Once more, his impulsivity earns him a slap on the wrist. Not from Remy this time. But from you. Peter takes your subtle scolding as a challenge. Leaning closely into your vicinity, he mutters.

“Oh, it is so on.”

“Don’t you dare!” You whisper back, squealing after he gives you a light smack on your ass.

His teasing continues without warning.

You chat with the team, visibly tensing as Peter pulls a nonexistent strand of lint from your dress. His hot touch lingers dangerously close to your cleavage. You can’t help but blush. The warmth in your cheeks races across your skin, creeping through your supple bust. Left speechless, your words falter on your tongue. Peter carries the conversation for you with minimal effort, flaunting aloof charisma.

He cracks a poorly timed joke and it fails to land. Feigning his embarrassment, he hides his face in the fragrant crook of your neck. His teammates tease him for it. But what they don’t know is, it’s all a theatrical ruse. They don’t see the way his teeth nip your flesh before he pulls away.

During an innocent game of UNO, your husband’s lidded gaze leers at you from across the carpeted floor. Peter’s dark hues make a short gesture to the dip between your legs. Biting his lip, he meets your eyes again with a frisky look. You know that look all too well. Again, you blush profusely. Logan catches him in the act as he wiggles his silver brows. But the old timer makes no comment, shaking his head with a smirk.

The team later settles down for a movie. Taking their respective spots in front of the TV, snacks in hand, they all lounge around. Peter steals a cozy spot on one of the sofas. He leaves a space for you next to him. Bouncing a knee restlessly, he cooks up a number of sneaky ways he can tease you. But his plans are all tossed to the wind once you scooch your way between the couch and the coffee table.

You shimmy your ample ass in front of him. Is it intentional? Unintentional? You naughty, little minx. His virile gaze falls to your tush, so full and grabbable in your dress. In a split second, he grabs your waist and inches you back into the warm familiarity of his lap. Your body relaxes, your back against his chest.

Finally, at last, Peter cuddles his wife again.

And he’s content with doing so for all of one minute.

His knee continues to bounce underneath you. With your hands joined together in your lap, his fingers absentmindedly play with your wedding ring. Steering his attention from Jurassic Park, Peter brings a hand to your chin. In the darkness, the television’s light illuminates all of your best features. You’re stunning. He really can't help himself. Peter pulls you in for some modest lip action. Careful not to catch anyone’s attention. The fingers of his opposite hand tease the back of your neck, igniting patterns of goose flesh.

“Aw, you cold?” Peter’s affectionate voice hitches, seemingly innocent.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Peter vanishes and returns in a fwip, draping a thick blanket over the two of you once he returns. Showing gratitude, you peck his cheek with a soft kiss. Cute. Your mischievous husband almost laughs. He adores how naive and sweet you are. Oblivious to his schemes after five years of a marriage, and a decade of familiarity. Peter makes a few adjustments. Playing it off like he’s covering you for warmth.

You sink into him again with a fond smile on your lips.

An adoring smile that instantly falls, lips parting, exhaling a breathless gasp.

Peter trails fiery fingertips along your inner thigh and up your dress skirt. His hooded gaze stays hard locked on the movie, faking interest in Jeff Goldblum’s incoherent mumblings. Blissful buzzes resound faintly against the fabric of your panties. Peter’s grin stretches impishly again when you jolt as a response. Your clit pulses under flush pressure, making you squirm in his lap.

Confession time: your husband’s on a mission to make you as wet as possible, in as little time as possible.

The pads of his warm digits draw lower and push into damp fabric. You’re already soaking yourself silly.

“Feel that? How wet you are? Must’ve really missed me, huh?” Peter breathes silently with his nose in your neck, getting high off your familiar scent. His lips press a chaste kiss to your skin. A husky chuckle blooms in his throat, “Missed you too. Missed this. So fuckin' much.”

His name teeters off your lips in a confused whimper, barely audible. Sneaking your damp panties to the side, Peter’s thick digits breach your lonesome pussy folds. After being deprived of you for so ungodly long, the feel of your wet lust hardens him all at once. His fingers play a little game of tunnel diving, prodding your lush insides. Peter adjusts his position on the sofa by a smidgen. Silent curses tickle your temple. His girth bulges against your ass.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” You huff under your breath, frantically scanning the room as he shifts again.

Peter’s digits curl so deliciously deep inside you, whirring like a silent vibrator, making your cunt spill leaky love. His breathy lips loom close to your ear.

“Hmm? Gunna try somethin’ risky. You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you, baby? Don’t want ‘em catchin’ on.” 

“Honey, no-”

“Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Just go with the motions. Trust me. It’ll be so fun. I know you wanna.”

Peter uses speedster precision to pull his flush dick discreetly from his jeans. Poor guy’s so homesick, he’s crying - leaking precum, throbbing as Peter nudges him into your plush heat. It’s an awkward angle at first. But Peter guides you through it with more hushed whispers. The blanket acts as a veil of innocence, draped over your connected bodies. Peter urges your hips to sink lower. You choke on your own mewls as he scarcely ruptures your precious tunnel.

“Tell me if it hurts, ‘kay?” He coos through an easy tone, parting his lips against the shell of your ear.

A subtle hitch of his hips does the rest of the work for you. Biting his tongue, Peter curls his brows inward. Your slick walls envelop his length all at once. Smooth, shuddery tightness compresses his cock and sets his nerves ablaze. Your husband peppers your temple in heedless kisses, letting throaty grunts slip in between each one. His pulsing cock keeps your walls pried open. Snug, safe, secure, and buried to the hilt.

Peter doesn’t move, and neither do you. One of his hands digs nails into your hips over your dress, keeping you cemented on his lap. He’s torturing himself, fighting his own relentless impatience in an attempt to stay perfectly still. And it’s taking every microscopic ounce of willpower not to pound you senseless. Peter covers his face with a palm. His dark, lust-blown eyes peer through lazy fingers at the TV.

He’s six inches deep in his wife right now, and not a soul in the room has any clue.

Clearing his throat and acting casual, Peter shifts his hips again. His fat tip prods your cervix with a weepy kiss. Like a promise to stuff you full of something special. He sneaks a careful hand between your legs. His wedding ring settles over your bush, cool to the touch. The rough pads of his fingers vibrate more intensely than before, winding into your twitchy clit. Coaxing you to break. You tremble in his lap, knees flying inward, knocking together hard enough to bruise.

Peter’s eyes roll back in his skull as your sticky walls seize tightly around his snug dick.

“Ah, fuck me.” He groans into your hair.

He can’t stop himself from knocking his hips upward every few minutes. Burrowing his buzzing thickness deeper, Peter splits you open, impaling your poor pussy. His genes imbue his body with primal frustration. Hiking the intensity of your hot bliss, his digits toy with your clit. Your breaths grow more sparse and shallow, as you blink tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Pietro, honey, please-"

He hitches his next breath. Reeling his ass into the couch cushions, Peter makes an abrupt retreat before ramming his cock into your womb. His inky gaze widens tenfold as your pussy swells, squeezing his dick tight enough to lock him in your hot channel forever. His lashes flutter. Going cross eyed, Peter feels his weighty balls tense under denim.

His hand darts up from your hip, clamping over your mouth in a flash. Peter pulls you hard against him, your back flush with his heaving chest as you cum. You’re so fucking lucky the movie transitions into a particularly loud scene. The shrill roar of Jurassic Park dinosaurs plays like a perfectly timed miracle. Concealing your muffled squeals of ecstasy.

The slippery contractions of your orgasm send him into the stratosphere. Your pussy creams hard on your husband’s whirring cock, and his pent-up longing comes crashing in bombastic waves. As covertly as he can, under the thick heat of the blanket; Peter repeatedly thrusts into your lush pussy. Slowly - so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 

It’s both the most hellish, and thrilling sexual experience of his near-middle aged years. He bites his lip so hard he draws blood. Peter’s brows fly up, following an expression of pure vulnerability. Thick, endless pools of white, syrupy heat flood your pussy, gushing in streaks and leaking down his vascular dick.

Peter takes a two second pause to catch his breath, unusually winded from such a scandalously intimate experience. With his nose buried in your hair, his lips pepper your head in soft kisses. Bringing his fist to his mouth, Peter clears his throat again.

“Uhm, g-great party, guys! Love you! We’re gonna bounce. G’night!”

The two of you disappear in a blur, leaving the blanket fluttering in the air.

Back in your shared room, your ever-insatiable husband drills you raw again and again. Spilling thick, sticky load after load - like he’s really trying his damndest to knock you up. You lose track of how many times you reach ecstasy. Peter tells you he’s making up for lost time. By the end of it all, your limp, naked body lies loosely in his arms. Running his fingers through your hair, he catches himself staring at the ceiling with a big, dumb smile on his face.

Saturday morning, Peter channels his inner, teenage self. Recalling his notorious streak of high school ditch-days, much to his mother’s dismay. He decides…ah, screw it. If Chuck needs him, he can just reach out via telepathic communication. Peter bails on his responsibilities to take you out for pancakes. At a family owned diner in some nowhere town, far away from any sinister villains.

You sit across from him at the booth, leaning tiredly over your breakfast. He can tell your body aches just by looking at you. Bones rigid. Legs sore. Hair unkempt. Makeup smeared. 

You’re goddamn beautiful.

[papaya-twinks]

maybe something where reader gets into a pretty bad crash on track and she’s a bit unresponsive, (so red flag of course) while everyone heads back to the pits, oscar is clearly stressed out watching the replays and hearing the radio messages when we were just about to crash and all panicky to our race engineer, but thankfully we make it out alive and conscious, receiving a lot of cheers from the grandstand. ends in something really fluffy with oscar where maybe he gives us a big fat smooch even though we’re a bit roughed up and a liiiittle bloody (but the crew took care of us)

Warnings: blood

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - this fit Lando more than Oscar and I think you originally requested this for Lando in another request anyways 

Both you and Lando being racing drivers, there was no doubt a lot of stress that pumped through the both of you when you watched a car in the same livery as the other tumble into the side of a wall. But so far, every time it had happened, it had never been either of you. Thank god…right?

“Who the hell was that?!” Lando said, speaking desperately into the radio as he watched a Red Bull car flip over onto the side of the barrier, the side of it slamming into the outside. The track had been oiled and slick, as it was newly painted, and the car had skidded right across the Parabolica. 

“We’re checking, Lando,” Will said through the radio, his eyes flicking round to each and every screen, searching for a name. “Who is it?!” Lando yelled again, desperate to see as he pulled into the pit lane thanks to the red flag. “It’s Y/N, Lando,” Will said, voice monotonous. 

“Fuck, this isn’t happening,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he spoke to himself, standing out of the car and im the garage. A breath he didn’t even know he was holding left his lips as he saw you step out the car, following the medic into the medical car. 

As he helped you out into the pit lane, you ignored the mechanic desperately trying to ask you to go to the medial tent, and instead rushed to Lando, your boyfriend clearly insanely panicked as you threw your arms round him. 

Yes, no one strictly knew Lando and you were dating…but you could hardly go with stressing the shit out of your poor boyfriend and just  leave him to it. Without an ounce of hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, letting him hold you up.

His hands squeezed at the supple flesh of your thighs, his tongue dipping into your mouth as he held you to him, pulling you back behind the wall of the garage, hiding you from the sight of the TV crew. 

Neither of you cared that your blood was spilling from a cut in your hand as you tangled your fingers through his curls, as he somehow (if even possible) managed to pull you closer to him.  God PR would kill you both…

[raven-cincaide]

 ‘Best Friend’ Kisses 

Summary: The three times you and Yuji kiss all happen during different stages of your lives, different times and have inherently different meanings, from the awkward ‘first kiss’ as middle schoolers to a surprise reunion smooch. Although, you don’t know what to make of the last one. 

Pairing: fem! Reader x (Best friend) Itadori Yuji Sweetober prompt 2: Best friends  WC: 2.4 KWarnings: Fluff, minors (innocent!) kissing, did I mention fluff?

To say that you and Yuji were close would be like saying ‘water is wet’ or ‘ice is cold’- it's something that everyone who had seen you grow up knew; you two were always in each other's lives- day in and day out you’d hang out together. If you were there, then Yuji would undoubtedly be somewhere close by. It was like you two were bound by an invisible force which told you where the other was. A force that always seemed to bring you two together. Your teachers would sometimes laugh that you were ‘held together by a red string of fate’ while your parents always reminded you two to get married at a respectable time and not forget to send them an invite to the wedding. 

Truth be told, it felt so perfect and surreal. Like your entire life plan was laid out perfectly in your lap: study together until college, get a degree, then you would work at a company for a few years to build up a resume and some cash before settling down somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo. Maybe even in the more green village-like areas where you’d build your perfect future together. Yuji would be a P.E. teacher at some local high school, and you would be either an English teacher or a writer, depending on which profession took off first. You’d build a family together; Yuji wanted three kids at least. You wanted one, so you compromised on two and filled the last spot with a pet of his choice. 

Thus, the first time you two kissed was related to that grand life plan. The life plan that you two came up with during recess in middle school. Although it was a gorgeous day, nice and warm and perfect to be outside, both of you lazied about in the school library, sitting on the soft chairs in the very corner of the room commonly known as the ‘silent reading corner’, surrounded only by a handful of usual-ignored-older computers and heavy bookshelves. There was no one in the school's library besides the two of you and an old librarian checking in new books somewhere in the second room, well out of sight. The other kids were out kicking ball between each other or up to some other type of mischief, but you felt down and tired and settled for the more comfortable indoors. And expectedly and without question, Yuji joined you, sitting in the familiar seat beside you. 

“Let’s kiss on it!” The young pink-haired boy exclaimed as he spun another round on the well-used computer chair beside you. “You know, to seal the deal. As they do at weddings in front of the pastor, so it’s a deal for life.” 

You peer up at him from your spot, where half of you lay half sprawled out on the desk, head rested on top of your folded arms. “I think it’s the vow before the kiss that makes it, you know, ‘til death do us part’ thingy.” 

“Oh.. well, let's do it anyway; that way, we won’t forget it until we get married!” Yuji shifted closer; his lips widening into a wide grin as though he had just won a whole cake.  

“I swear you just want a kiss”, you mumbled, but don’t shove him away. You stayed perfectly still, just staring at him with huge eyes, as he leaned closer until you felt a tiny pressure on your lips, a shaky warmth that disappeared as quickly as it came. A second passed, and you two stared at each other in utter silence before you flew away, faces dark red, as you heard the librarian walk in to remind you to get back to class. 

You had to admit you don’t remember much of that kiss. 

But you do remember the sudden shyness that followed and how yours and Yuji’s cheeks would blossom into dark red blush whenever you looked at each other after that- a fact that made the other kids tease you the hell out of you two. 

It was an awkward kiss that, for a long time, made you worried you would lose Yuji. That he wouldn’t want to be friends with you because you were a bad kisser- and unknowingly to you, he felt the same. Thus, you two didn’t kiss more times in middle school. 

The second time you and Yuji kissed was during your first year of high school, right after summer break. The two of you sat, sprawled out in the shadows of the high school bleachers from one side and the overgrown bushes from the other—a perfect little obscured space for anyone who didn’t want to be seen. But still wanted to have a good view of the sports area with the bright green football field, an area for throwing balls, spears, high and low jumps and other activities you didn’t even know existed. 

The football tryouts had just finished, yet there were still a few hours left until the cheerleading tryouts started. Yuji had wanted to only show up to your tryouts. Still, an old classmate practically begged him to join for football tryouts as company, completely forgetting that since last semester Yuji hit puberty and not only shot up like a beam but also grew strength and muscle like a gorilla. Effectively impressing the P.E teacher who wanted nothing more than to sink his claws into your horror-loving, more-of-a-bookworm-than-sports-guy Yuji. 

So now you had no choice but to hide in the shadowy part of the field, sitting on Yuji’s sweatshirt in your bright blue cheerleader uniform, sipping on a milkshake and Yuji in his barely sweaty jeans and t-shirt, right beside you, chugging down a Gatorade. 

“How quickly do you wanna get married?” 

Your eyes flickered to Yuji as he peered at you through pink bangs. The second he caught your eye, though, he turned away, his face unmistakably red. His lips were still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. He was a mix of cool-casual as if he had just asked how long you had until class, but also so obviously fidgety and nervous that you found him totally cute. Absolutely adorable, and something else you refused to admit about your best friend. But there was also something else in his expression, and you quickly recognised the question for what it was: a distraction. Something to keep his mind occupied on anything other than his sick grandpa. 

‘So bad, huh?’ you wanted to comfort him in the only way he would accept- by answering his half-metaphorical question: “Hmm, maybe during or straight after Uni? I heard there are some perks with getting housing if you’re a young married couple,” You mused aloud, trying to keep the tears out of your voice. 

“We should kiss on that, You know, to seal the deal..” you paused mid-sip of your cherry-flavoured milkshake, sensing an air of nervousness settled between you. You bite your lips, a part of you were uncertain and nervous. You weren’t children anymore, and a kiss at your age would have all sorts of implications. 

But you could also see his need for a distraction, could see how tense his shoulders were and how desperately he gripped the Gatorade bottle. He was afraid, you realised, afraid to be completely alone once his grandpa passed. You still had your parents, but Yuji would have no one. He was afraid you’d leave him too. 

“I swear you just want a kiss” You could practically hear him sob in relief as he spun around to face you; the childhood reply from all these years ago brought him unimaginable relief.

This time it was not a shy and quick press of the lips- it was more desperate. He pressed his lips to yours firmly and moved them against yours as if he were trying to get closer or eat you alive. You weren’t sure.  Teenaged hormones raged- an unexplainable tension between you two as your lips and spit, and tongue met each other over and over again. 

This time, there was a lot more exploring now, tasting, feeling. 

The taste of Yuji and the puckishly sweet-synthetic taste of post-practice Gatorade cut through the sweet flavour of a cheery milkshake on your tongue. The warmth of his hands on your body, the feel of his chest under your hands. How much he had changed seemingly overnight from a soft and squishy boy into a brick of solid muscle hidden underneath hoodies and loose-fitted jeans. 

You gasped as he pushed you down into lying and broke the kiss to stare at him. His pupils were blown wide, almost manic. One leg was planted on the ground, the second was frozen in the air mid-saddling your waist, as if he had just realized what he was doing. His blush caught up with him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what to do. “D-Do y-you wanna stop?” 

You heard the unmistakable whistle from the tryouts just meters away, and it was as if a dose of reality had finally broken through your haze. What were you two doing in broad daylight too? “Y-yeah, definitely not here” You don’t miss the disappointment on Yuji’s face as he scrambled off of you and helpd you up. 

Thinking back, you wondered if things would have been different if you hadn’t said ‘yes’ that time- if you hadn’t stopped and instead urged him on the way every fibre of your being screamed at you too. Would Yuji have stayed in your high school? Or would he have transferred out of there the very next day with no warning and no goodbye? Not even a chance for you to say your condolences to him, or mourn his grandfather's death, who was like your own grandfather? Or would it have ultimately not mattered? 

The third time you and Yuji kissed was days before the university started. It was sunny and warm as you waited near rebuilt Shinjuku station for your friends for a much-needed shopping spree. The university started almost two weeks later than your high school after the summer break and the day coincided with the last time you saw Yuji. Although there was still a feeling of anger, much of it was replaced by melancholy and a sense of betrayal. You wished Yuji would explain the simple ‘why’- you swore you would have understood. 

But he never did, and despite frequent texting, you always turned down his request to meet up.

You were bitter, not only for having lost your best friend but also because he ruined the plan. The perfectly perfect life plan you both had created in middle school came crashing down without warning, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces. You were still bitter about being left behind- replaced like a pair of gloves and so stubbornly angry that you didn’t even notice Yuji screaming your name until he was just a few feet away. 

You glanced up, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, and he spun you around and around, your face buried in the crook of your neck like in all those post-war veteran coming-home pictures. You noticed he looked older, more worn out than his twenties, like he had been through hell and back again. “Y-yuji?!-” You didn’t even finish your sentence as his lips were suddenly on yours. A desperate plea and apology all poured into that one kiss. 

You froze. Your body grew rigid in his arms; you thought your love had cooled, and yet there were sparks between you- no, wait, there WERE actual blue sparks around you. You tore yourself away from his lips, ignoring his sulking pout, as you stared at the specks of blue around you in shock and awe.

“You can see that?” An unfamiliar voice spoke up, and you turned to face a dark-haired man standing beside a brown-haired woman. Between them was something that you could only describe as a black-and-white demon dog of sorts. It’s horrifying and cute all at once. Although its proportions feel all wrong, there was something like a third eye in the middle of its forehead surrounded by a red mark in its forehead that didn’t look like a mere paint job.

 “And you see him?” the woman asks, pointing a long finger at the animal.

You nodded slowly, your gaze flickered between the reminisce of blue specks and the puppy, and then you returned to the unfamiliar duo. 

“Then it’s all good, right? Fushiguro? Kugisaki? We call tell her, right?” Yuji exclaimed, his voice an obnoxiously loud cheer that only piped down once you pressed your hands against his shoulders in a silent demand to be set back down on the ground. 

Instantly Yuji’s eyes, puppy dog expression and disappointed pout stared up at you. You didn’t smile or laugh back at him, in fact, you didn’t even know whether you wanted to know whatever that ‘all’ was. You just felt uneasy and awkward in your best friend's embrace after two years of absence, or maybe it was the way he looked much older than when you last saw him, like he had been to hell and back several times over? He didn’t look your age- he looked almost a decade older. Or was it something else that brought an unmistakable bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like you wanted to get the fuck away from there before you were dragged into something you didn’t want to be a part of. 

“Oy why is it so important for you to make her a sorcerer anyway?” the woman crossed her arms over her chest, seizing you and your still stunned expression, up and down as if judging your entire worth in that mili-second. 

“Because she’s my best friend of course!” Yuji exclaimed, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you from collapsing from the onslaught of emotion you felt at that moment. 

From anger and betrayal to curiosity and the unmistakable fear as the dio inched closer to you while Yuji kept you still in one place. But most importantly, the unmistakable pang of pain that came with being called ‘his best friend’. It reminded you once again that a kiss for Yuji was just a way to greet someone, like a personalised handshake or a first bump. It meant nothing, and you were a total fool to become so affected by it. To still hope against hope that your life plan could be salvaged. It was foolish because you were the only one to feel that way, 

Or so you thought.  

Author note: This is a republish of the fic from like 3 days ago, but still I just thought it could be a pre-university Yuji fic, or maybe a hdc . What do you think?

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[haselovesriki]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 there’s nothing like doing nothing with you

bf!ni-ki x gn!reader

wc : 2165 (oops)

synopsis: after a week of stress following your exams, you can finally unwind and relax at home with your boyfriend.

warnings: kissing, skinship, swearing, fake argument, pet names (babe/baby), riki can carry reader, reader goes to school (college/highschool)

★ continue reading ↓

In all true honesty, the past week had fucking sucked.

Like, a lot.

Coming back from school absolutely and utterly drained was not an uncommon occurrence for you, being the overachiever and determined person you were.

Unfortunately, your despair had only amplified, especially after an entire week overflowing with exams after exams and endless studying.

The week had been anything but pleasant. Not a single day was left for you to rest; time overly consumed by either excess studying—consequently led by your perfectionism—, doing the fuckass exams themselves, or simply contemplating your horrible past decisions that landed you in a situation like this. All while being incredibly snappy and pissed at anyone that even dared to speak, look, or be in your presence…. including your horribly sweet and loving boyfriend.

So yeah, the past week had fucking sucked.

Thankfully, Friday eventually came around (despite having felt like a decade of suffering and unbearable psychological pain) accompanied by the sweet and warm promise of finally obtaining a sense of peace and tranquility with no more reasons to worry.

Preferably, by the side of your boyfriend who, unfortunately, had been the main victim of your impulsive and irritable attitude.

Now, finally being here in his presence cuddling in your warm comfortable bed after what felt like a lifetime of anguish, despair, sorrow and utter misery...

Well, you feel pretty damn good.

“I swear to god Riki, don’t leave me alone. It’s cold!” You exclaim dramatically as the boy decides to peel himself away from your clingy touch. He rolls his eyes playfully at your irony.

“Cold? You gotta be kidding me,” He lets out an incredulous scoff as he steps on the bedroom floor, though his mouth doesn’t hesitate to immediately form into an endeared grin as he watches you begin to sulk, before he continues;

“Baby, I’m sorry, but if I didn’t escape your death grip within the next 10 minutes I would’ve died from a heat stroke.” He sneers, but you don’t miss the gentle glint in his eyes and soft tone of voice.

To your over dramatic silent and sullen expression, he sighs defeatedly and turns around, facing his back to you.

“Fine, I’ll carry you on my back if you’re that adamant on me not leaving you alone.” As soon as the tempting offer leaves his mouth, your face immediately breaks into a bright beam and you waste no time to stand on the bed and piggyback onto him, wrapping your arms and legs around his figure.

You place a disgustingly wet smooch onto his cheek, snorting at his immediate recoil to the unexpected wet mark left.

“You’re so cute,” You mutter to him, happily placing your head above his shoulder and watching as he navigates his way to the kitchen while holding you.

“You’re cuter.” You hear him mutter, almost too quietly, nearly going unnoticed by you, but you catch it anyways and can’t help but break into a gentle smile at his shy compliment and kiss him once again on the cheek; this time softer, flowing with adoration.

Eventually, you both make it to the kitchen as he places you on the counter despite your initial objection. He pulls down the hood of your hoodie, placing an aggressive peck onto your forehead while holding your cheeks in his hands before opening the utensil drawer and pulling out two spoons.

You grin as you watch Riki navigate through your kitchen that he’s become all too familiar with, flailing your legs back and forth happily. As he grabs 2 bowls for you both, you think of how glad you are that no one in your family was home tonight to see you stare at him so lovingly, all too mushy and gushy, as they would probably call it. Of course they loved him, a lot, but it was still embarrassing when they could see how utterly down bad you were for the boy.

The boy takes out 2 ice cream flavours from the freezer and walks back to where you sit, scooping a delectable amount of vanilla ice cream into one bowl and cookie dough ice-cream into the other. Placing your bowl of ice cream between your legs propped up on the counter, he grabs his own bowl and shoves a spoonful of the cold, sweet treat into his mouth.

Out of impulse, instead of eating your ice cream, you pat his head, brushing your fingers through his soft yet messy strands of hair. He hums and subconsciously leans into your touch, not noticing your teasing yet warm smile.

The soft moment lasts for a few seconds, before you break the silent shell and ask quizzically, “Why are you having vanilla ice cream?”

“Huh?” He mumbles, snapping back into reality and raising an eyebrow at your question.

“No offense babe, but why the actual fuck would you choose vanilla ice cream over cookie dough.” You answer back, finally taking your own bowl and eating a spoonful before sighing with satisfaction at the taste.

“Well, no offence babe,” He mocks, “But vanilla is literally the best flavour. Why wouldn’t I?” He bites back, before adding;

“Full offence, by the way.”

“Vanilla is fine, at best, but it’s too bland compared to cookie dough.” You respond, rolling your eyes playfully and suppressing a smile that threatens to spill.

“Don’t yuck my yum, jackass,” He says, lips quivering as he holds in a cackle begging to escape. “Vanilla could never be bland. It’s a classic that could never go wrong.. wayyyy better than raw fucking cookie dough!” He exclaims.

“It tastes so much better than you say it does, I promise. Give it a chance, your whole world will transform. Promise!” You answer and place another spoon into your mouth, laughing at his unimpressed expression.

“Fine, let me taste some of yours then—“ Riki says, reaching for the bowl in your hands before you immediately pull away.

“Nuh uh! Get your own!” You exclaim as he lets out airy giggles, your voice muffled by the spoon still in your mouth and holding the bowl high above you so that he can’t reach.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t really thought about his height playing a factor. Which was, albeit, a really dumb move, because he is an absolute giant. Obviously, he would be able to reach the bowl in your grasp. Which is why, before you can even attempt to object, he has absolutely no problem grabbing the bowl from above you.

“Hey! Tha’s unfai—“ You exclaim once again with a voice muffled from the spoon in your mouth. Expecting him to eat from the bowl, you attempt to reach it from him, but to your surprise he places the bowl on the table. Suddenly, your face is barely half an inch away from his when he pulls the spoon out of your mouth and his lips touch yours.

You don’t react for the first few seconds, your lips completely still against his as you try to process what he was doing.

When it finally dawns on you, you can’t help but pull away from him, only to crash your lips back onto him harder. Shyly smiling into the kiss, Riki’s hands that were otherwise holding the bowl come to hold your head in his palm as he deepens the kiss.

His hands, as well as his lips, were cold against your own, due to him (luckily) having more time to indulge in the ice cream. You don’t really mind the numbing cold nonetheless, because a cozy warmth washes over you when you feel his lips on yours.

Your boyfriend detaches himself from the kiss momentarily to nestle himself between your legs and places his hands over your waist, laughing loudly when your lips chase his, wasting no time to crash back.

A content sigh leaves his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grazing at his nape gently and holding him close to you.

A moment like this felt like it couldn’t be broken; time cocooned in the warmth of your shared affection, each kiss a promise.

You gasp when you feel him slightly nibble on your lower lip, a cascade of tingles shooting down your spine when his tongue immediately comes after to ease and swipe against your lip.

Your grip around his shoulders tighten, legs wrapping around him tightly and trapping him as you feel his smile against yours at your clinginess.

Relaxing your shoulders, you tilt your head slightly and start feeling like your body is melting. Your mouths are still somewhat cold from the ice cream, but the warmth of the kiss is scalding from within, warming up to each other’s touch. Suddenly, interrupting the warm silence you both had been able to build, a cold and wet feeling of what seemed to be his tongue shoots way too far into your mouth, almost making you choke as you pull away quickly.

“‘Ki! What the hell was that?” You exclaim, watching as he hunches over in a fit of laughter at your reaction.

“What, don’t you like a little tongue?” He asks between huffs of laughter, holding himself up on the counter edge.

“Not if you shoot that far down my fucking throat! Seriously, were you trying to kill me?” You ask, struggling to contain your own laughter starting to bubble from your throat as you watch him struggle to catch his own breath.

“In my defence, I was just trying to taste your ice cream!” He admits, holding up his two hands and palms outstretched by his head as a sign of self defence.

Dramatically gasping, you gently kick him in the hip, huffing when he yells out an ‘ow!’.

“You kissed me to taste my ice-cream?!” You ask exasperated, before continuing; “Wow, I see how it is, you’re so cold-hearted Riki. I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

You let out a huff, looking away and crossing your arms and exaggeratedly rolling your eyes but not hiding your amused smile.

He coos at this, breaking out into a smile before pinching both your cheeks, peppering your face with brutal kisses all over while muttering small apologies.

“Sorry—“ kiss. “Baby—“ kiss. “Just wanted to—“ kiss. “See what the hype was about.” Finishing his sentence with a final kiss on the tip of your nose, you can’t help but let out an amused exhale.

When he leans in to kiss you on the lips once more, you lean away. He cocks an eyebrow at that, mouth pursing into an unamused expression.

“Not letting you kiss me again after that stunt you pulled.” You state, avoiding his disappointed gaze that you’re sure would make you give in.

“But—“ He tries to object, but you’re quick to shut it down.

“Absolutely not. It’s what you get for using me for ice-cream, and for attempting tongue slaughter.”

You expect him to silently grudge at that, or at least try to argue in his defence. What you don’t expect however, is for him to sweep you off the counter and hold you in his arms, spinning you around in bridal style.

“Wait— let me go!” You exclaim in surprise, flailing your limbs in an attempt to escape his hold.

“Nope! Not until you kiss me,” He yells, eyes crinkling as his mouth forms into his wide boxy smile. Boisterous laughter fills the kitchen as you try to liberate yourself, him running around the house with you in his arms.

Finally escaping from his grasp, you make a run for it, running to the living room.

Jumping on the couches, you try to avoid him as he tries to catch you. The moment is childish, but fond nonetheless as he chases you around.

“C’mon, leave me be!” You beg as you navigate the room while standing on furniture, but he simply shrugs his shoulders with a beam ear to ear, finally reaching you and tackling you down on the couch.

Laughter continues to fill the room as you both attempt to catch your breaths from the house chase. His arms are wrapped around you so as to not let you escape once again, but you don’t really try to leave his touch this time. Finally, after a few minutes of calming down, he smiles at you and you see his eyes flicker to your lips.

You decide to take matters in your own hands and you reach to kiss him gently on the lips, cradling his jaw in your palm as you do so. As you pull away, you watch his face morph into a sheepish grin and a light crimson dusts at his cheeks.

“See? That's better,” You hear him mutter before he decides to nestle his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder, relaxing his limbs over yours.

By now, the ice-cream is long forgotten, but neither of you really mind, now finally in each other’s presence.

So yeah, the week had fucking sucked. But today wasn’t too bad.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚



a/n : THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READINGGGGGGGGGEBDJDNFKSNFKENF

this is my first time writing a fic (also just my first time writing something for the fun of it in general) so it’s like… really messy 😭😭😭 wasn’t really sure what i was doing but i promise i’ll try to improve in the near future!

also i barely proofread,,, just slightly skimmed through to make sure it was alright. sorry if there’s typos or anything that doesn’t make sense!

i really really hope you enjoyed :) comments would be appreciated! and i accept any sort of feedback or constructive criticism that could help me improve my writing.

again thank you!!! 💓💓 have a nice day

[hai7ani]

os ventos do amor ᡣ𐭩 ー haitani rindou

the five times rindou shows you he loves you (tries) & the one time he finally tells you about it.

( the winds of love ) friends with benefits + colleagues au, mdni

一 · in his kitchen (prequel)

The first time Rindou tries showing you he loves you, you're busy slurping noodles in his kitchen, and he's creasing his brows ironing your stupid little blouse in his tiny laundry room.

"Need some help?" You tease from the table after swallowing.

Usually you'd let him do it himself in peace, with no mocking, as per his own request to iron your clothes for you whenever you stay the night. But he's been at it for the past 20 minutes now just ironing one stupid blouse, and you're starting to grow impatient, because he'd promised to share this bowl of ramen with you but it's almost finished now.

Your voice echoes in the living area and he doesn't reply, but you know he heard you. You put down the chopsticks and sigh, "you know, I could've done it myself. No need for the trou-"

"Here."

You cock your head to the side and you see him, finally, out of the laundry room, with some sweat beading on his forehead and he's padding towards you, holding out your white blouse to you by its hanger.

He's still frowning when he stops before you at the dining table and you can feel his deject before he even says his next words:

"It's a stubborn crease, 'n I coulda done better. But I don't wanna burn through your shirt." He hands you your blouse and you immediately soften at it, fingers gently running over the said crease and you can tell he's done his best ー he did a great job, because if it were up to you, you would've chosen to give up halfway through.

"And sorry I ripped your skirt. I'll buy you a new one this weekend." He apologises through a mouthful of ramen and you reach a thumb up to wipe away some soup dripping down his chin.

Your eyes flicker to the said skirt sitting on the edge of his couch ー a black linen pencil skirt with a little slit running up your knee is now a big slit running up your hip, and the sight makes you want to laugh. You'd stripped it off and threw it there upon entering his house ー a little angry and upset that he'd ripped through your favourite skirt to wear for work out of eagerness to fuck you in the backseat of his car without getting you both home first, and he'd offered to iron your shirt for the next day out of guilt.

And now you're left in nothing but your undies, still not yet showered (you're waiting for him together), and you notice it's a little red on the tip of his ears. But your fury has died out long ago and seeing him like this ー somewhat embarrassed and you think he's kind of stupid for apologising because deep down you know he knows you don't mind at all, but he still says it anyway ー makes you want to grab him by his cheeks and place a fat smooch on his lips. But you don't, and you continue to watch as he swiftly finishes up the noodles before turning to wash the dishes.

"...Thank you, Rin." He doesn't see it but you're smiling when you say it to him ー shy, rosy lips a little pursed, the apple of your cheeks rose high, and he resists the urge to turn around and cup your cheeks with soapy hands.

"Whatever. 'N the noodles were disgusting. Remind me to never buy it again."

"Okay."

二 · in the office

The second time is when you catch him in the printer room the next morning.

He's photocopying documents by the printer, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and he has one hand manning the machine with the other supporting his body. His fingernails tap beats against the hard surface as he waits for the next batch of documents to finish printing.

Rindou doesn't notice your presence and you don't make yourself known either, choosing to watch him by the door as he makes quick work of counting and organising and stapling together freshly printed documents while making sure they're all in the correct order for the team meeting later ー and you think it's so bad of you to be ogling at his exposed arms with indecent thoughts of doing many things to him floating in your mind as his muscles flex under the light with his every move.

But you don't let your thoughts consume you, and he looks up at you ー now standing beside him with your arms tucked behind your body and a cheeky smile planted on your face.

Rindou focuses back on his work, obviously in a rush to complete everything, but he still acknowledges you nonetheless.

"You're up to something." He sighs while stacking together the stapled documents.

You feint a pout.

"...'M not." (He interpreted this as "I am.")

Rindou has never once told you this but he always thought that you had somewhat of a close resemblance to a cat. A very annoying Siamese cat that behaved like his previous one, constantly following him around and begging him for attention while also pretending like it isn't.

But it's nothing new. Rindou had come to a conclusion a while ago that you like to keep him guessing, and you particularly enjoy acting nonchalant when it's so obvious to him right now that you want something, anything that can keep you going for the day.

"What, you want a kiss or somethin'?"

"...Kinda,"

Bingo.

"But I want to use the machine more than I want a kiss."

He smirks, though he doesn't give it to you just yet, and you begin to count and prepare your own documents in silent when he doesn't reply. (You think he's ignoring you and it's awkward.)

But Rindou doesn't step away even when he's finished and you're confused. And unlike yourself, he doesn't have a knack for keeping you guessing. He speaks before you have the chance to ask.

"How many?" He grabs at your papers and lays them face-down on the machine before closing the shutter. His thumb hovers over the screen, eyes unwavering against your own as he waits for your reply.

"Um, ten copies." Your smile slowly widens when he finally presses 'print' and steps back for you to take over. He doesn't collect his documents to leave, however, and you raise your brows in confusion when he moves to close the door gently (and locking it, too) before shutting the blinds altogether.

"What're you doin'? Aren't you in a rush?" You question.

He shrugs and makes his way over to you.

"I've got time," he says it while trapping you against the machine with his two arms, lips quickly hovering against your own and you can smell a hint of the peppermint gum he likes to chew on from time to time.

"The machine's all yours," he licks at your bottom lip, "and now, for your kiss..."

I've always got time for you.

You think it's a great thing that the printer room doesn't have a CCTV.

三 · at the mall (shopping for your skirt)

Rindou has a good eye for things. You knew it the moment he'd picked out a pair of Daiso's reindeer-printed socks for you as your Secret Santa a few Christmases ago.

(You've always liked reindeers, but Rindou simply bought it for you because he didn't know what you liked.

You'd jumped in happiness the moment you opened your present and Rindou thought you were actually the prettiest girl alive.

You'd pounced on him in excitement, yelling out your gratefulness for everyone in the party to hear.

He'd decided that he wanted you then.)

So you're in Aeon browsing through skirts without him even though you came out here together. You don't know where he is, and you've given up on looking for him after phoning him a few times and wandering around like a lost child looking for its parent.

But you hear a cough behind you and you turn around, only to be greeted by the sight of a really pretty dress hanging from his finger.

You admire it from top to bottom ー a really nice coral pink dress with large hibiscuses printed all over with a little slit running up the thigh ー and Rindou moves it closer to you.

"Whatchu think of this?" He asks, nervous eyes a little dodgy against your mischievous ones, and you smile a little when taking the hook off his finger.

"I wanted a skirt, not a dress." You comment, obviously poking fun at him and Rindou immediately reddens like a tomato. "Forget it, then."

He reaches a hand out to snatch it from your own but you take a step back away, clutching the dress to your chest tight.

"Didn't say I don't want it, though." You jut your chin out and he snorts.

"I need to make a call," he fishes his card out from his wallet and hands it to you. You grip on the flat plastic tight, afraid of losing it while also in shock because why did he hand you his card? He's acting like you're both a married couple now.

"Text me when you're finished." And he shuffles away with his phone pressed to his ear.

四 · during the phone call with his brother

"Yo, Aniki." Rindou greets the moment his brother picks up the phone. After eight rings, what the hell is this idiot even doing?

"What?" The older man answers from the other line, phone tucked between the shoulder and his ear while he's rushing to prepare his daughter's dinner.

"You busy?" The younger boy asks. He shuffles his weight from heel to toe while standing in front of a wall full of different mugs and bowls at the home appliances department.

Pink is nice. She likes pink. Or should I get red? It's almost Valent-

"Uncle Rin-rin!" His niece's voice booms through the speaker, cutting Ran off and Rindou immediately smiles at it. "Hi, sweetie."

And Ran takes over the phone again. "What's up? Speak before I hang up. I'm a very busy man." Rindou resists the urge to snort at it ー he has a favour to ask, after all.

"How do you..." The younger pauses, oddly feeling a little too nervous to continue. Though it is his own brother on the other line that he knows although very annoying, he would still be there to help, Rindou finds it a little embarrassing to be asking him about this. He's never done this before, and he's not very big on asking his brother for favours too, and Ran is surprised at the sudden question shot that's been left hanging.

He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. He knows Ran will never let this go if he asks, but he decides to screw his ego because in the end, it is for you.

"How do you, um," he taps his foot on the ground.

...Fuck it.

"How do you chase a girl? Or something like that. Whatever it is."

"...Chase a girl? What girl- Oh. The one you've been sleeping with."

"What the fuck? Not in front of my niece, dude."

"Relax, I put her down a while ago."

"You're fucking annoying, you know that?"

Ran only laughs boisterously at Rindou's annoyance, but he doesn't leave his brother hanging.

He's always here for him, no matter what.

"So what're you thinking? Any options?" Ran asks. Rindou grabs at a white mug with pink flowers painted on it before replying. "Mugs."

"Mugs? Like for drinking, mugs? You're not serious, Rindou? You're buying mugs to chase a girl, are you insane?"

The younger clicks his tongue and puts the porcelain back on the shelf albeit a little harshly. "Why else do you think I'm asking you, asshole? Just tell me what to buy. I really don't know."

"I can't tell you what to buy for a girl you're chasing, dude. And I don't even know what she likes. What does she like? You tell me."

He ponders for a moment. "Dresses. Pink stuff." His mind travels back to the night you first met, at work, as clerks, when you'd included your hobbies into your introduction and one of it was gardening. "And like, flowers."

"Then just get her flowers, you already have your answer." Ran deadpans from the other line, but Rindou only hisses. "Yeah, but I already got her a pink dress with flowers printed on it. What else?"

"I'm talking about actual flowers. You can get them anywhere, and most importantly, never fails to make a pretty girl smile. She already likes flowers anyway."

"...'Kay, thanks. You're useful for once."

"Fuck off." Ran clicks his tongue. "...And red tulips, if I may suggest. And remember, tell me how it goes-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

五 · aftercare with you

Remember when I said that Rindou wanted you the moment you'd hugged him in excitement after seeing some lame reindeer-printed socks wrapped up nicely in a little box tied with a pink ribbon on top?

Yeah. He'd wanted you since then. But instead of starting off as friends from colleagues before getting to know you better and then asking you out on a date when he feels the time is right ー like a normal, sane person ー the both of you had gotten into a mutual agreement of becoming friends with benefits.

You don't remember exactly when it started, how it started, who initiated it, and neither does he, but you don't really care. Not when he's busy rubbing soft circles on the bruise forming on your hips for some comfort while he pecks you again and again on your forehead as you slowly fall asleep beneath him. He'd lost focus for a bit and gripped you a little harsher than he should've, but you really don't mind, yet he still feels bad.

And Rindou thinks you're prettiest like this ー neck and chest painted in hickeys that he'd sucked (out of adoration), eyelids droopy with your bags a little red from the tears of bliss you'd shed, and the back of yours fingers are gently caressing his left cheek. Your room smells of sex and lemongrass and a quiet 'sleepy?' is all he asks when your eyes finally close.

You hum out a lazy response of 'yes' before moving the same hand down to rest it on his nape, playing with the ends of his mullet a little, and you push him down to rest on your chest.

It's heartwarming. It feels intimate. And despite your abnormal relationship title with the man, you don't reject the sudden swell of your heart and neither does he.

So he presses a soft kiss to the top of your left boob ー right where your beating heart resides ー and you hug your legs a little tighter around his waist. It's nothing sexual and you both know it. It was all just to bring him closer to you, for you to feel more of his warmth in the coldness of your bedroom paired with the chill of February.

"Sleep then." He assures, voice gentle and lulling, and you smile a little at it.

Rindou is always softer at times like this, you realise ー when he'd fucked the life out of you after a particularly long day, when he'd made you moaned out melodies that he swore belonged to heaven, when he'd spent hours between your legs lapping up everything you have to give him.

Though you don't let yourself go at his words, and he watches amusedly as you try your hardest to fight back dear sleep in his arms. You don't think you're ready to sleep yet. Something feels out of place, oddly, even though you're sure you have completed everything that was in your checklist today.

Laundry, washing the dishes, prepping for Monday's meeting... You've done it all, and yet you still can't pinpoint what it is that is missing.

Until he moves up to silently place a warm kiss on your neck ー where your pulse beats against his lips ー and he realises his life hasn't really started until recently, until the day he'd met you and he thought you were such a breathtaking girl. Colours had burst into his world and your smile was the first thing that had lightened up.

And while you're happily drowning in his attention, Rindou silently wonders if the two of you were perhaps lovers in your past lives.

He wonders if you'd be willing to catch him. To be there, holding your arms out and yelling to him that you're here and to not worry; for him to just fall into your arms and he'd be safe ー you'll catch him.

Because he is falling. Hard. And he doesn't know how to tell you about it. He hopes that for the past few days his gestures were enough to tell you a portion of his love...

Just a portion, though. Because he wants to tell you the rest when he finally gets to call you his. Under the moonlight, at dinner with his brother and his family, before his parents at their graves every anniversary, or in front of your dog that's pawing at your door asking to be finally let in... Whatever it is, he wants to show the world that he loves you.

So when you smile sweetly up at him as he grows hard against your thigh ー a silly little love boner that you must've thought was just him getting horny to you massaging his sore backー Rindou's become a little more certain that the two of you must've met one way or another in the previous lifetimes and have fallen in love with each other when you gently trail a finger down his abdomen, before finally wrapping a hand around him.

Rindou wonders what it'd feel like to be yours in this lifetime.

And he gives in to your touches. He buries his head into the crook of your neck and lets you play with him as you please.

He thinks it's kind of cute that even as friends with benefits, you've already engraved a piece of yourself onto him.

Like the extra sets of pencil skirts and blouses that you leave hanging in his wardrobe in case of last minute plans that he swears are a hassle to iron because he can never get the creases right. But he never complains, and he would always offer to iron your clothes each time you stay over at his house. Or even when you don't. Because he would always find your stuff sitting in the basket when he's doing his laundry. And he'd have to iron them neat for you, before hanging it up in his wardrobe for you to wear the next time you stay the night.

Or like your toothbrushes hanging next to each other on the wall in his bathroom ー pink and purple facing each other by their bristles because you'd insisted out of the blue on a random Monday morning, at the start of your "relationship", with foamy toothpaste in your mouth and your hair poking out in every different direction it can go.

And sometimes your shoes bring him joy too, whenever he would get up to check on the door while you're falling asleep in his bed and he'd spot how your black pumps are always somehow scattered messily next to his own neat dress shoes by the entrance, and he'd have to squat down and rearrange them nicely.

He looks back up at you with ragged breaths and a coil in his abdomen that's threatening to break anytime soon. You're still giving him the same smile that drives him nuts every single time, and he leans in closer to give you a little kiss on the lips that you very much love.

And Rindou comes to a sudden realisation that he wants to tell you he loves you now. He needs you to know that he's all yours. You're his sweetheart.

So he does what he thinks is right ー what he feels is right. He reaches over your body, towards the marble vase on your nightstand that your mother had gifted you as a housewarming present, and he picks a fresh flower out of it after careful consideration. You don't move from your spot, only trying to kiss whatever skin of his that your lips can reach from your position ー his shoulder, his bicep, his arm, his neck... And a familiar smaller-sized tulip appears before your eyes. You raise your brows a little at it.

"Pretty fuckin' girl," is all he murmurs before pushing himself into you.

"I'm all yours." He whispers.

A peaceful winter night and Rindou fucks you again in missionary with so much love bubbling in his chest and a red tulip tucked behind your ear.

终 · during breakfast together

"Do you want eggs?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

You kick your feet and watch from the bar as he cooks you both breakfast in your kitchen. You're covered in one of his shirts that he'd left sitting on the back of your chair, your tired eyes scans over his half-tattooed back covered in scratch marks, and you feel oddly proud to be the one to have done all that.

But you know it is not right. And you're not stupid ー you're aware of the things he's been doing these days, and if you were a forgetful fool you would've missed the rule you made with him at the start of your intimacy.

Never catch feelings for each other.

...But you were no forgetful fool, and the ache in your heart is too painful for you to ignore. You'd seen the way he looked at you last night ー the way he'd fucked you like you were the finest thing personally handcrafted by the hands of God. And because you treasure your friendship, you know you shouldn't be doing this to him. You think he's a good person, and you want to remain friends with him.

But you don't want to let him go.

"Hey, Rindou." You call out. He's in the midst of scrambling your eggs with butter when you do so. "Yeah?"

"Rindou," he hums again.

Ever so patient, but I have to break your heart.

"...We should end things, Rindou-kun."

Saturday morning and it feels as though his world is falling apart from your simple sentence. Like you've ripped apart his beating heart that pounds solely for you and threw it on the ground.

You are so cruel.

So much for all that last night, he thinks. So he turns around after hurriedly switching off the gas. The wooden spatula covered in eggs is still in his hands when he faces you in agony and you want to break down and cry.

You feel like a villain. The evilest villain of them all.

"Why? Was I too rough on you last night? I- Or were we too open about it? Tell me." He's worried. He's so worried that it almost makes you want to crumble into pieces.

Purples flicker between your own and your lips wobble. You grip the hem of his shirt tight in your hands and look down.

"Please, tell me." He pushes again, so you decide to tell him truthfully.

Be a big girl, don't cry. You've survived 25 years of life, cutting things off with your FWB should be easy.

"...I've caught feelings."

Except it's not.

A lone tear makes its way down your cheek and you wipe it away quick. "Sorry, I broke the rule. I caught feelings and I- I don't think it's right for us to continue this any further." Your voice cracks with every word you speak and it makes you want to cry even further, because he's not saying anything.

And despite the strong stance you've presented to him, Rindou knows you're putting on an act for him. So he puts down the spatula and shuffles to you. He stops before you and tilts your chin up with his finger.

You'd half-expected him to be upset about this as much as you are, because you know the feeling's mutual, but you respect the rule of your relationship more and you don't think it's right to continue on.

Except he isn't, and he's so fucking smug about it.

Rindou's got a huge grin on his face when you look up at him. Hair a little messy, a hickey on his jaw, and you're sobbing into his arms now.

"You like me." He states.

You kick him a little and continue to cry.

"You like me, huh?" He repeats again.

Rindou has an arm wrapped securely around your waist with the other hand smoothing the back of your head as he shushes you gently, rocking you both side to side and you hit him a little on the chest.

"Do you think this is funny? It's not funny. I'm being serious." So you try pushing him away in hiccups but he only laughs as you struggle against his strength.

"Why do you wanna end things?"

"As I've said, I broke the rule. It's not right anymore."

He snorts at your reasoning. "You know, rules are always meant to be broken."

"So you don't respect me enough to follow my rule?" You're trying to pick a fight but he doesn't quite buy into it, choosing to kiss your forehead instead as you continue to wiggle your way out of his hold.

"I've never been one to follow the rules anyway." Rindou mutters against your hair as he presses another kiss to your crown. You're too endearing to let go, he thinks, and he holds you anymore tighter to himself at that.

"And who said if it's right or wrong? Screw rights and wrongs. We both like each other, the feeling's mutual. There's no point in letting each other go." He wipes your tears away with his palm and cups your cheeks with them. "I know you don't wanna let me go."

You swat his chest again at that and he only laughs harder at your reaction. He thinks you're the most precious thing in life. In his life. In the universe. You're the most precious thing ever.

"I like you a whole lot, you know." Smooch. "More than you'll ever know." Another smooch. "Let me be yours."

You pout as you look into his eyes. Purple orbs sucking you in deep and you have no choice but to fall. Purple orbs that tells you these arms will catch you if you do. And another kiss to your soul that tells you everything you need to know.

"Okay."

You'll catch each other.

"I love you."

You're already catching each other.

😅😅😅😅😅 been mia for so long bc i've been working on this. Its been in my drafts for soooo long LOL and this was supposed to be a valentines day special but i didnt make it in time cus i was bz sleeping.. but i hope you guys like this a lot ^^ listen to the playlist if u have time! And i tried a new layout too i hope it looks nice.

Reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for reading <3

© HAI7ANI ON TUMBLR / DO NOT STEAL

[satrs]

Look at me, look at me,

you lookin'?

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎ I wanted to thank you for 1.025 followers! It really means the world to me and I am shocked and so happy of how far and big this blog has gotten in just a couple months. Thanks to every single one of you, I love you all!!! Bigggg big BIG hugs and smooches to all of you MWAH MWAH!!!

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; friends with benefits trope with them.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; various Blue lock men/jjk men x fem!reader

TAGS; NSFW CONTENT! MDNI. unprotected intercourse. fingering. nicknames(pretty, princess, pretty girl, baby). size kink(?). mating press. doggy. oral(fem!receiving). dirty talk.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+[proplayers]!

TRUE FRIENDS

when two preexisting friends decide to start having sex.

It was a give and take between you both, as true friends would. One hand washes the other, right?

"So fucking tight." His grunts and your moans filled the room beside the slapping of naked skin. Your moans turned higher in volume as the pistoning of his hips increased, your legs sore from being folded in half for what seemed to be an eternity.

"You feel that?" His hand pushed down onto the pit of your stomach, pornographic mewl rushing past your lips at the pressure, his tip kissing your cervix "Right in your tummy. Feels good?" Your frantic nod caused the man's heart to swell with pride.

"That's what friends are for."

ISAGI. Loki. KUNIGAMI. Ness. Snuffy. Ur fav

Suguru. Yuji. TODO. Inumaki. Ur fav

NETWORK OPPORTUNISM

when two people agree to serve as “backups” for each other in situations where neither of them can find another partner for the evening.

"That asshole couldn't give it to you anyway." Your moans got muffled by the pillow your head was buried in, ass in the air as his hips moved in sync to yours, hand harshly ripping the flesh of your back, red handprint on your rear. "But that's alright," His movements showed no sign of stopping, motioning you to hold the headboard for stability. "Best friend ‘s here to save your day."

The movements of his hips increased, curses falling from his lips. "There’s nothing better than this." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you up against his chest, his breath tickling your neck. "What do you say, princess?"

A strangled mewl left your lips at the new angle, feeling him impossibly deeper in you, mind feeling hazy. "Y-yes!" You felt his chuckle against your neck, goosebumps visible on your skin.

"That's right."

OLIVER. SAE. Bachira. Nagi. Otoya. Ur fav

SATORU. Shiu. Hiromi. Hakari. Ur fav

SUCCESSFUL TRANSITION IN

when someone intentionally uses a FWB as a stepping-stone into a romantic relationship.

Your hands tangled into his hair as his head buried between your thighs, his hands on either side of them, holding you firmly in place. "Can't get enough of this perfect pussy." He looked up at you, mouth and chin glistening in your juices, cheeky grin on his lips.

His fingers slide through your folds, his breathing ghosting over your aching heat. "So pretty. All mine, my pretty girl." His mouth was back on your cunt, sloppily making out with your lips, whining into your pussy, hips subconsciously buckling against the sheets.

Your thighs locked around his head as you felt your orgasm washing over you, your angelic moans still reaching his covered ears, and he swore, he felt like he was in heaven.

His first step did indeed lead him to cloud nine.

Noa. RIN. BAROU. Chigiri. Sendo. Ur fav

Yuuta. CHOSO. MEGUMI. Nanami. Ur fav

TRANSITION OUT

when romantic partners decide to maintain a sexual relationship after a breakup.

"Pussy s' made for me." You bit your lip as his fingers deliciously curled up inside of you, teasingly caressing your g-spot. Your breathing turned erratic as his wrist speed up, leaning to your ear, his hot breath tickled your neck. "Still as good as in the good. Old. Days." With each word that rolled from his tongue, he accompanied sharp thrusts of his fingers.

"How about we try it again, hm?" Your eyebrows furrowed while sinful sounds escaped your lips, a chuckle erupting from his throat. "I'm just playing." His thumb attached to your sensitive bud, causing you to see stars, nearing your release. His head hung in your neck, attacking it with his lips, sucking marks onto it.

You let a mewl escape you at that, the familiar but also uncanny feeling of his lips against your tender skin bringing you closer to the edge.

"Can't hide this from your new plaything, you know that, right?"

KAISER. SHIDOU. Karasu. Chris. Ur fav

TOJI. Mahito. Sukuna. Naoya. Ur fav

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[zombii-writess]

𝙲𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚎𝚜

Tags: fluff, cute shit Cove does, ooc cove slightly?

Synopsis: basically, Cove doing things that gets you flustered and fall in love with him deeper

Word Count: 1073

Characters: Cove x GN! Reader

Leaning over and buckling your seatbelt

▸Cove huffs whenever you forget to buckle yourself in. Of course, he’s not upset, in fact he loves leaning over and doing it for you. Totally not using that as a reason to steal a smooch from you. 

▸He also cares about safety; anything can happen, and he doesn’t want to see you hurt. Like what if a helicopter suddenly falls on top of your car? Or what if he breaks too hard and you fly out the window?? 

▸He always makes sure you’re buckled in first before he does so himself and starts the car. Even if you’re in a rush. Safety first! 

▸And he totally doesn’t grumble in displeasure whenever you beat him in buckling your seatbelt first. 

“I wanted to buckle you in… what? I didn’t say anything?”

Zipping up your jacket

▸Whenever you both decide to go out whenever it’s cold, you always toss on a jacket and not zip it up. Cove will and aways zip it up for you, not caring of your whining.

▸He doesn’t want you to get sick! If you do, he won’t be able to kiss you until you feel better and even though he has good patience, he doesn’t want to wait too long. 

▸And once he reaches the maximum level, he just dives in and smothers you in kisses despite your protests, next thing you know, you’re both sick. 

▸But hey! What’s a better time to spend with your partner than being sick together? He doesn’t care if he misses work, he’s happy enough to spend this time with you. 

▸Unfortunately, you can’t be angry with him for too long because look at that face! He’s really sorry but he’ll make it up to you once you both get better. 

“I’m sorry (Name) for not listening... But at least we get to be sick together!” 

Holding your hand before crossing the street

▸Again, a safety thing, but he loves holding your hand and uses this as an excuse to hold yours. And to show off to others that ‘hey look! we’re holding hands so that means we’re dating! so back off!’. Especially in front of the cars you’re walking past, Cove giving the poor drivers a scare from his intense staring.

▸Y'know that one Tik Tok audio clip from Chowder that basically goes like “Hold my hand NOW”. Yeah, that’s Cove, but he would never yell or use force on you to hold his hand. He instead pouts and gives you the puppy look so you can hold his hand.  Which you do because he looks adorable.

▸Always, without missing a beat, always kisses your hand. He loves bringing up your intertwined hands to his lips and plant a kiss, letting his lips linger for a bit before bringing your hands down and swinging them gently, a skip in his step. 

▸The warmth seeping from your palms brings Cove a sense of calmness. Just being near you calms his mind from any negative thoughts that spring up randomly. 

“Oh, we’re about to cross the street, (Name)! Hold my hand before we cross!” 

Tying your shoes

▸Sometimes we leave the house in a rush and forget the most important thing. Tying our shoes! But with our trusty boyfriend, Cove, he always does it for you! He would stop you, kneel down and tap his knee, signaling you to put your foot on it so he could tie your shoes properly. 

▸He always checks if you tie your shoes or not. Cove doesn’t want you to trip and fall for other people. See what I did there?? No? Okay anyway if you do fall for some reason, he’ll be there to sweep you off your feet. 

▸Whenever he finishes tying your shoes, Cove would stand back up and look into your eyes with a shiny smile. You question him and he points at his cheek, blue eyes shining even brighter. 

▸He wants a reward from saving you from any falls you could’ve had in the future! Cove wants a kiss. From you. Either on the lips or cheek, he’s not a picky person. 

“Here, let me tie your shoes for you.”

Always offering you food

▸Even though Cove loves shoving food in his mouth and swallowing it in one go, he never forgets to offer you some. Doesn’t matter if the snack is small and it’s not enough to feed two people, Cove will walk over and ask if you want a bite.

▸If you offer him food, he’ll be floored and open his mouth as you spoon feed him your meal. He’ll be happy with whatever you feed him a tiny crumb, a vegetable he doesn’t like, reluctantly, he’ll eat that.

▸Drinks! Drinks are included in the equation. 

▸Even though Cove wants to sip on the refreshing slurpy, he will make sure you have the first zip without fail. 

▸Cove blushes at the thought of the indirect kiss whenever you put your lips on any of his utensils he eats with. Even though y’all are already dating. He still gets flutters from you. 

“Want a bite, (Name)?”

Forehead goodbye kisses 

▸Whenever you or Cove are running late or have to leave for a few hours, Cove will pull you towards him and plant a kiss on your forehead.

▸Has become a routine for you both to never leave without you receiving Cove’s kiss before heading out to work. Honestly, it’s the best way to start off the day and he hopes that it never changes.

▸But when you’re in a rush, you sometimes forget to receive that kiss and that brings down Cove’s morning. He pouts and waits for you to return so you can pepper your face with kisses to make up for the one you missed in the morning. 

▸You’re sorry but you can’t complain from the kiss onslaught so it’s a win-win

“Oh, you’re leaving right now? Let me kiss your forehead!” 

“I miss you...” texts throughout the day

▸This kinda goes with the ‘goodbye kisses’ 

▸Cove texts you throughout the day that he misses you. He sends one not even a minute of you leaving the house you both lived in. 

▸He’ll send a text saying that he ‘craves to cuddle you’ when you leave to take a shit. 

▸It’s really cute until he starts spamming you while you’re in a meeting, your embarrassed face sputtering out apologies towards your workers. 

“Heyy, i miss u :(“ 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A/N: Heyy ya'll I got another one for you hehe but I kinda rushed at the end because its late and im tired

Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi!

[just-jordie-things]

since your asking for blurbs here you gooooo

how about jjk men (at this point i think you know my faves) with the lipstick trend on tiktok? yk the one where they mess up the lipstick and then the camera pans to the bf with lipstick marks:)) -🌿

ofc i love this trend <3

GOJO SATORU

has not seen the trend, and does not know that filming a tiktok is your intention when you sit on his desk right in front of him and cover his face with kisses. he knows that you're leaving lipstick stains all over his lips, cheeks, nose, jaw, and even on his neck, but he doesn't think twice about it.

this behavior isn't exactly out of character for either one of you. and it' honestly a miracle you're allowed to work together because you were both nothing but distractions to each other.

like right now, satoru is leaning in to steal another kiss from your red smeared lips, only to find that you're applying more lipstick in the camera reflection on your phone.

unbeknownst to him, he actually perfectly imitates the trend as his hand curls around the back of your neck and pulls you back in for more. ___

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

has seen the trend because you showed him the other night. but when you suggest filming a tiktok for it, he flusters.

nonetheless, he watches as you perfectly apply a layer of pink on your lips. he's always liked when you wore lipstick, and he definitely likes to watch you do it.

you cap the makeup when you're done, spinning away from the bathroom mirror to smile at him prettily. his hands find your hips as he helps you onto the bathroom counter and you're already peppering his face with smooches. you kiss everywhere your lips can reach. your hands are playing with his hair while you drag your mouth down his neck, and megumi definitely forgets the purpose of this makeup session.

(in his defense, your makeup sessions haven't really had a goal before. besides, well, ;) you know)

all too soon, you're pulling away with a giggle, grabbing your phone to hit record as you reapply your lipstick. however when you accidentally smear it, megumi doesn't reach to wipe it away like he's supposed to. you turn the camera towards him, capturing the perfect lovesick and stunned look on his face.

he ends your video and lifts you off the counter, whisking you away. he's not a fan of social media usually, but maybe he should finally get an account. ___

OKKOTSU YUUTA

doesn't have the time to follow tiktok trends but an excuse to make out with his girlfriend??? shit he'd plop you onto his lap as soon as you asked!

he actually does, much to your surprise and you have to explain that you have to go put the lipstick on first. you kiss for a little while anyways because he was already excited.

when you come back with a bold red lip, yuuta's only more excited, and is grinning and giggling as your lips scatter lipstick stains all over his face. his palms are rubbing eager circles into your hips, hoping this moment could last for an eternity.

pouts when you pull away to grab your phone for the video, but honestly is just as eager to make the tiktok with you.

you reapply your lipstick, purposefully smudging it at the corner. and with a gentle hand, yuuta thumbs away the mistake, smiling at you lovingly.

the video is so cute that your friends that follow you comment about how you make them want to throw up :) success! ___

INUMAKI TOGE

actually saw the trend before you did, and went out the very same day to pick out a dark red lipstick for you to do it yourselves. you might think it's a little cheesy but you can't say no when he gives you puppy dog eyes.

so you apply the bold lip and give him so many kisses you worry he's going to faint. he's smiling and humming and enjoying every kiss you bestow upon him to the fullest. he thinks it's the cutest when you kiss the tip of his nose. by the end of it, his face is so covered in red that there's some parts you can't even make out the print of your lips.

when you go to film the tiktok, you're the one blushing like crazy as toge precisely fixes your purposeful mistake, the pad of his finger soft as he wipes away the red stain on your cheek. as you turn the camera to face him, he grins, proud to show off all the lipstick marks you'd given him.

after recording the tiktok, you really have to convince him to wash the lipstick off his face. he pouts, upset to wash away the hard work and proof of your affections. you promise to make more cute tiktoks with him in the future if he agrees to let you wish his face.

you also promise to go back to what you were up to before ;) that always does the trick. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[deandoesthingstome]

Medieval Fantasy

Pairing: Witcher!Geralt x Reader

Summary: The offerings at this hotel, I swear.

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving, 69), p in v (cowgirl, missionary), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I suppose, strictly speaking we're not fucking the monster, but he's still a treat, so enjoy!

A/N 2: (Edited) I do owe @augustsprincess a little thank your for an idea; I played it out during the group chat here, but I probably wouldn't have included it at all if not for you, so *smooches*

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

Mike ordered a pizza from room service for the last hour of your reservation with him once he flipped the time switch. You sat cross-legged on the couch with him, munching happily while he narrated the ridiculousness of the rest of the scenes to your scary movie, making you giggle where you’d normally be hiding behind a blanket. You’d remember this night fondly for a long time. Mike’s easy going way had put you completely at ease once he noticed you were a little hung up on Walt.

He unfortunately didn’t know anything about how to get a hold of your missing object of desire.

You set the scene for the story pretty much as it was, but added more spook and gore, opting to split up the experience into two nights. One with live Mike, just barely slipping out the window before the parents came home from their Halloween night costume parties, only to be killed by the tow truck driver who showed up when his car, parked around the corner from the house, wouldn’t start. He was hung on the hook that should have hoisted his beater onto the truck. And one a few weeks later, when the heavy drag of the chains and hook across the attic floor led the heroine to investigate, only to be taken swiftly and with no mercy by her incorporeal boyfriend. Not rough, just urgent, insistent, longing for some other connection that would allow him to leave the vicinity of his undoing. If he could have taken her outside on the sidewalk without prying neighbor eyes, he probably would have.

You put the notice up after you posted. The next would be your last regular monster fucking post. You were taking a hiatus to work on your first novel.

sendmeanangel: and then Walter burst through the window, all wolfed out darkgothnightengale: while they were both fucking you??? sendmeanangel: yeah, and i can only think my subconscious was trying to not kill me when it chose August and Mike for that experience. I can’t imagine having anything else inside me while getting fucked by the Bull MNstrluvr: i would kill for a dream like that darkgothnightengale: well, did he take you away? sendmeanangel: i woke up!!! darkgothnightengale: and still no luck finding him? sendmeanangel: no. i found a guy who seemed like him, but he’s in Minnesota. Or was. It’s like his online presence is either non-existent or ended abruptly at least ten years ago MNstrluvr: another ghost lol! sendmeanangel: very funny. Mike was a lot of fun anyway. I needed that darkgothnightengale: and you’re still going back? sendmeanangel: i’ve never heard of a witcher. He just showed up on the site the other week and i bet he’s softer than he looks. I booked him at the same time i booked Mike, so it’s already scheduled and i could do with one more amazing adventure before i give it all up darkgothnightengale: i still don’t understand why. If you don’t have walter, what’s the harm? sendmeanangel: there’s no harm. Obviously i’m free to do what i want. But i think about him all the time. And i just think maybe it’s time for a break MNstrluvr: when you find him you should see if he’s up for booking a room with you so you can recreate that dream sendmeanangel: oh my goddddd! 

“We certainly hope you haven’t been displeased with your experiences here,” the desk clerk asked gently.

“What? No! Everything’s been wonderful. Why do you ask?” you inquired, at a loss for what may have precipitated the comment.

“We noticed you hadn’t made another future booking yet.”

“Oh, that,” you stammered. ”I just…no, everything’s fine.” You fingered the edges of the card stock bearing the elevator code to get you to L2 and tightened your grip on your bag reflexively. Just a trick you used to bring you back to steady. 

“Well, please. If there’s anything at all we can do for you…” You smiled and cast your eyes down so as not to betray your true feelings, but glanced up quickly to try to judge the meaning behind the next statement made with a hint of weightiness. “Anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you offered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The elevator opened to a small wooden hut, a place for your belongings and coat, a small wash basin filled with still steaming water and fragrant scents set on a wooden stand. You disrobed, dipped a washcloth in the water, and bathed yourself with the enchanting smells, then grabbed a linen towel to dry off before climbing into the outfit you’d selected for the fantasy. You slipped the silver dagger into the holster you’d strapped to your thigh and dropped your heavy skirt down over it before wrapping the cloak around your shoulders.

You had no idea what you were walking out into, only that if things got too hairy, as they absolutely could, he’d be there to save you. There to comfort you. 

You stepped out onto a wooded path leading to a trail along a marshy bog, mostly full moon shining in the sky above you. You were never going to get over the mechanics of this hotel that made it seem like you were in at least five distinctly different places, some of which were outside, while still housed in the same building. But you were solidly on the side of possibility. Monsters were real. Magic was real. This hotel was real.

You carried a small basket of goods, as if headed to a market or maybe home from one. The path ahead of you seemed less than ideal and you began to wonder if you’d made a wrong turn. The churning and bubbling of the bog was lost on you as you looked around for another path that might lead to more solid ground, grateful for the light of the moon since a flashlight app was absolutely not happening, as your phone was left back in the hut.

Suddenly, a loud shriek sounded from the liquid and a large figure began to emerge, long twig-like legs reaching into the space above it as if searching for something. You dropped your basket and ran as soon as it became obvious the thing it was searching for was you. A moment’s respite allowed you to reach under your skirt and grab the dagger before you resumed fleeing away from the monster but suddenly a creepy crawly leg swept around you and it was all you could do to jump out of the way.

You stumbled when you hit the ground, but landed on your back, which meant you could stab up at whatever was coming at you and you did. The blade wasn’t long enough to do full damage, but some gore dripped down your arm as you registered a little casualty point and you pulled back and stabbed again as quick as you could, completely unconcerned with whatever came oozing out. It had to be better than being dead, you thought.

You heard another roar and the distinct slice of a finely crafted blade through the air and the legs that had you trapped were suddenly no longer attached to the larger body that was stalking you. It gave you time to move, scramble out of the way and find a spot to regroup. From behind the boulder you saw him. Leather clad, silver hair flowing, steel blade drawn and hacking through more limbs. As he spun for another attack, you glimpsed his dark eyes and shimmery, pale skin.

It was maybe not the time, but his ass looked great too. 

“Little help,” the strained call came, as he flipped the beast over, tackling what you took to be the lower extremities. A smooth patch on the chest seemed like it was made for stabbing so you climbed onto the rock and jumped, landing right on top of the beast with your tiny blade finding a home in the furry goo. 

One final, ear-splitting shriek and the deed was done. Your compadre stood and held out a hand to help you up and off the steadily shrinking body of the buggy creature you’d just slayed. You felt your feet touch solid ground as you looked up at the mountain of a man who stood before you.

“Alright?” he asked. “I think you got ‘im, but we should head out in case there are more. I don’t think tonight is the right time for this. We’ll come back tomorrow and finish the job.”

“What job?”

“Okay, sure. This wasn’t why you were walking alone late at night in a Krak infested bog? Are you telling me you weren’t hired to clear the area?”

“No?” you answered, unsure what the words coming out of his mouth meant. Was this what a witcher did?

“Were you hired for anything?”

“I’m really not sure what you mean.” You had to find a way to talk to this man coherently. You remembered your basket. “I was just walking back to town from a market. I think I got a little lost.”

“I think you got a lot lost. Can I help you find your way back? I’m Geralt.” His black eyes were  ringed with dark circles, but in the moonlight, those looked like they were fading slowly.

You offered your name and a hand, which he shook, and you felt a line of heat rush straight through your arm, down your chest, and into your core. You gasped as the last of the shadows over his face and eyes dissipated, leaving you staring into amber eyes full of flame. The memory of lights piercing the shadows the other night flooded your brain. What if that wasn’t Walter, as you suspected? But no; the howling.

Geralt helped you locate your discarded basket, into which you stuffed your goo-covered corset and cape, eager to be free from the stench and hoping desperately that dry cleaning would do the trick when you were home. You mounted his horse, Roach, with his assistance and he led you into town. He made a beeline straight for an inn, dropping you off at the entrance with instructions to ask about lodging while he found boarding for his horse for the night.

“Oi! You’re late!” an oversized brute behind the bar exclaimed in your direction as you entered the tavern and you froze, unsure what part of the fantasy this could be. “Have ya lost control of yer legs suddenly? Bring the goods here. Now!”

You looked down at the basket with a realization that was confirmed by another shout.

“Yes. That. The basket. Now!”

You were about to begin the trek across the wooden floor to hand off your basket to the foul looking man, when a pair of comforting hands came to rest on your upper arms, holding you firmly in place.

“I think you have the wrong merchant. This basket of goods is mine,” Geralt’s deep and soothing voice growled. “And we require rooms for the night.”

Rooms? Was this not happening?

“Almost full tonight, Witcher. Only one room left.” You stifled a snort at the cliche of it all.

“We’ll take it. And I’d venture to say you’ll want to provide a meal and round on the house. At least one of your swamp monsters is already dead thanks to this one.” Geralt stepped you into the tavern and over to the bar where a key dangled from the innkeeper's hand.

“She took out a Krak?”

“Practically single-handedly.” There was something like pride in Geralt’s voice, and maybe a little admiration, though you definitely didn't handle that on your own. Still, you grabbed the key with a smirk and turned to find an empty table. Geralt followed once he’d grabbed two tankards of ale, and two plates of stew with bread were set down in front of you after a few moments of awkward silence, during which you took in the clientele. How was the hotel paying all these extras?

“Wolf!” someone called from the entrance and for a moment you thought they’d seen Walter. You looked around, but found nothing other than another sizable man clad in leather and steel making his way to your table.

“Lambert,” Geralt acknowledged him, and introduced you. “What brings you tonight?”

“Just finished up a town over and heard of another job. Looks like you’ve already taken it on. Finished so soon?”

“Hardly started. First kill’s hers anyhow.” Geralt nodded with what appeared to be reverence in your direction.

“Beginner’s luck,” you demurred. “I don’t think a small dagger is going to be of much use with the rest of whatever those were.”

“Looks like I’ll be headed out at first light alone then, to complete the task,” Geralt mumbled, with a comforting look at you before turning attention back to Lambert.  “I’d welcome your assistance with this one.”

A barmaid approached to set another tankard of ale in front of your new red-headed table mate and you didn’t miss the way her hand traced over his shoulder and her eyes met his as she walked back toward the counter to continue serving other customers.

“It’s a good thing you’ve found your bed for the night, since we’ve just taken the last one,” Geralt grumbled with a hint of tease. 

“Unless you need my assistance with anything else?” Lambert’s tone was clear and they both turned their gazes slowly toward you. 

It was a choice. You hadn’t asked for this, but you were being offered an option. Heat filled your cheeks and you cast your eyes down with a sudden shyness. Though two entirely different men, your dream from the other night was somehow presented to you on a platter, and yet…

“I don’t think I’m anything Geralt can’t handle on his own,” you replied, aware this was your call and no one else's.

With the sleeping arrangements out of the way, you spent the next hour or so enjoying stories of training and fighting. If your ears didn’t deceive you, several of their completed jobs seemed to include gratitude delivered by way of sexual favors, sometimes alone, sometimes together. They were cheeky and sly with the language, but the innuendos were there and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it. 

You waived off another round of ale and professed you’d much rather find a tub of warm water to sink into for a bit. Geralt agreed and you both said your goodnights to Lambert.

Settled into the room, you were surprised to find there really was a wooden tub full of tepid water. A large cauldron hung over a roaring fire and you watched as Geralt used a rudimentary crane-like contraption to hoist the pot over the tub and dump its boiling contents into the water below.

“It’ll warm the water for a bit, so you should take advantage now, if you were serious.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s room for both of us,” you mentioned with a little sadness.

“We can take turns, just don’t stay in too long,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. “Do you need any help with your garments?”

With your corset already removed, all that remained was to unlace the heavy woolen skirt and lift the flowing linen gown underneath it over your head. Geralt was a huge help nevertheless and your body shivered as you imagined his fingers tracing every inch of you, not just your waist or the lucky bits of leg that received his touch as he bent to grab the hem of your dress.

He held your hand as you stepped into the tub and sat down, knees bent against your chest. How would he ever manage to fit himself in here? you thought. While you swirled the water around you, you watched as he turned away to unbuckle his leathers and disrobe as well. You were right about his ass. 

You smiled a little to yourself at how comfortable getting naked with him was and then you smiled wider when he turned to face you once again, approaching you in all his glory and settling down onto a stool next to the tub with a washcloth in his hand.

Geralt offered to help you wash off, then dunked his hand into the water when you accepted. He ran the soft rag along your back, down your arms, across your chest. He took a few moments to run the soaked cloth along his body as well when the water began to cool much faster than you’d hoped, leaving no opportunity for him to sit in the tub himself. When he “dropped” the rag while dipping it back in the water for another pass, he didn’t hesitate to reach deeper into the tub, fingers searching the bottom for the cloth but finding your bottom instead. He leaned forward to complete the kiss you had asked for with a lick of your lips and smiled into your gasp when his fingers made their way between your legs.

“You know,” he started after pulling away from your hungry mouth, “I do feel as if I owe you a bit of gratitude myself.”

“Why, whatever do you mean, Geralt?” you gently taunted with a fake bit of naivete.

“You were the hero tonight. You deserve a reward.” He stood from the stool, exposing his hardening length, and helped you to stand.

“And will you be my reward?” you purred, clasping your arms around his neck as he lifted you out of the tub.

“Gladly,” he replied, slipping his hands eagerly down your side body and around your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. He captured your mouth again with a searing kiss as he walked toward the bed and deposited you on your back, legs splayed wide and waiting for him.

“Maybe you could finish what you started.”

He dove to the bed next to you and cupped your cunt with a rather large hand.

“This is just the beginning,” he promised as he bent two fingers and slipped them inside. He watched your face with intent as he pumped his fingers in and out, teasing more and more slick from deep inside you. He kissed you when he added a third finger, swallowing the moan that ripped from your throat. 

You couldn’t control your hips if you wanted to, bucking up into his hand, trying to pull him in deeper, trying to find the grind that would let you explode. His lips on your jawline, his tongue on your neck, kisses on your collarbone before he nuzzled into you and whispered how good you fucking smelled from here already. All these words of praise and touches of desire sent you right over the edge with an urgent need to crawl back up and do it again.

He must have been expecting you to take some time to recover because he was off guard when you pushed at his shoulder and sent him to his back so you could sit up and swing your legs over his. Settled on his thighs with an eye toward his very large erection, you smiled and made clear your intentions.

“I want you, Geralt. All of you.”

“However you’d like,” he grinned back, one arm tucked behind his head and the other reaching to stroke himself. 

“Fuuuuuuuhhhck,” you moaned, watching how he handled himself, sure saliva was probably dripping from the side of your mouth. “Kinda like that.”

You scooted back down his legs and leaned forward, eager to let him feed you the cock he was keeping hard for you. As with every other host, it was going to be impossible to take him all the way, but you were going to give your best effort on the parts you could reach. His hand motion shortened as your mouth took over servicing the head and a few inches of length. You let your tongue swirl around the tip and dripped saliva from your mouth to give both of you something to slide over. 

Your pussy was still yearning for touch and since you didn’t need your own hands for the blowjob, you let one travel down your body and between your legs to trace along your folds. You rubbed two fingers over your sensitive clit, curling to dip them into your warm, wet opening a few times before returning to focus attention at the nub. 

“I can help with that, if you’d like,” Geralt grunted breathlessly, the arm behind his neck reaching now for your body, prodding you to turn. While you continued to lave over Geralt’s prodigious member, you crawled around to find your knees on either side of his head and when you felt his hand smooth over your ass, you didn’t resist the pull.  

You moaned around the cock in your throat while Geralt wrapped his lips around your pussy and licked his way into your slit. Eventually, he let go of his dick and wrapped both hands around your thighs, holding you close against his face and lapping in tandem with the bob of your head.

On more than one occasion you found you could not concentrate effectively on the head you were giving, since the head you were receiving was so mind blowing. You found you had to lift your mouth off his cock and beg for more, scream for him to make you come. When he did, you were able to return to pleasuring him, since he didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry to move you away. Instead, it was as if he were playing a game called ‘how many times can you come on this tongue.’

It became abundantly clear that you were never going to be able to return the favor. Geralt was not interested in coming down your throat, so when you felt like you couldn’t handle one more tender lick, one more urgent suckle, one more flick of the tip of his tongue on your sensitive pearl, you begged off. Pleaded for mercy.

“I’m not done,” he called from the other end of the bed. “I still owe you my gratitude.”

You peeled yourself reluctantly away from his cock and eased yourself around again, to lay alongside him, chest heaving and thighs shaking.

“I can’t fathom how one Krak deserves more than you’ve already given, but I’ll gladly take it, if only you’ll let me rest a moment.” You draped an arm over his chest and drifted your fingers through the dusting of hair you found. 

“Perhaps some water?” he offered, reaching for a cup and the pitcher by the bedside. You shared the cool liquid, quenching one thirst while another still burned hot and needy. 

“How long can you last? Surely I’m not that bad at oral.”

His laugh was so bright, it was as if the room was suddenly aglow.

“You are excellent at that. I just have a lot of practice not letting go until I’m sure my partner has reached the absolute peak. It’s a point of pride.”

He wasn’t arrogant about it, just matter of fact. He was here to serve. 

“What if we simply waited until you were ready again? Surely that wouldn’t take forever.” You trailed your fingers down his chest, through the patch of hair at his abdomen, and onto his still rock hard length. Feeling how firm he was, letting your hand trace the veins, your thumb nudging the helmet of the head, you couldn’t help but be hungry for him again.

You found yourself straddling his thighs once more, eyeing his cock, begging for him to fuck you now.

“Do they have condoms in this time, wherever we are?” If an ancient Greek labyrinth had condoms, surely this medieval inn had them, too. You were still in the hotel after all. He chuckled and nodded toward the nightstand, where you found a plain wooden box that revealed what you were after when opened.

Geralt made to take the packet from you, but you resisted. “Allow me, please.”

You tore open the package and worked the rubber onto the tip, then rolled the sides down and checked the fit. You let him make a final adjustment, but when he leaned up as if to roll you over, you protested.

“I’m good right here,” you purred, grabbing ahold of his sheathed cock and lifting up to position yourself right above him. You set him at your entrance, still dripping from your several orgasms, and lowered yourself good and slow. You were getting used to the size of these men, but that didn’t mean the start didn’t require some care.

Your eyes closed almost involuntarily once you’d taken him to the hilt and you sat motionless for a moment, feeling your core loosen around him. You began a steady pulse, up and down, as you opened your eyes to see him staring up at you with desire. He rested his hands on your hips, neither speeding you up nor slowing you down, just feeling the motion, feeling you. 

After a few more strokes, you grabbed his hands and slid them up your body, pressing the palms of his hands against your breasts and tossing your head back at the sensation. He was more than willing to continue cupping and squeezing without your guidance which allowed you to set your hands on his thighs behind you, providing even more leverage for your rise and fall. Now you sped up. 

“Fuck, Geralt, this feels so good,” you cried out.

“I can make it better,” he countered, slipping his hands around your ribs and pulling you forward, chest to chest as he captured your lips once more. With his hands firmly holding your head in place, he began to buck up into you and when it seemed like it was going to be to much, he let his hands drift down your back and onto your hips again, to hold you place while he set a punishing pace, thrusting ever harder and deeper into your pulsing core until he finally exploded with a roar. It wasn’t your peak, but you weren’t complaining in the least. He’d fucked you through several tiny orgasms, each ebbing and flowing with ease. If there was nothing more, no additional gratitude the rest of the night, you’d be just fine.

But he was having none of it. He lifted you off and laid you to the side, urging you back against the head of the bed and lifting the covers for you to climb under. Once you were comfy, he left the bed to deal with the condom removal, grabbing an apple and knife from his bag on the way back. You sat and conversed while he fed you thin slices of sweet fruit, taking his own bites after every third for you.

Geralt was easy to talk to. Not overly wordy, but happy to chat nonetheless. Although you wanted to ask questions about the hotel, you knew it would be wildly inappropriate so you stuck with the script for the scene. What would it take to clear the rest of the Kraks? How dangerous would it have been had he gone alone? What’s the most danger he’d ever gotten into? The most fun? How often, exactly, had he and Lambert been thanked simultaneously?

That question was designed to reignite the passion in the room. You weren’t disappointed. The mere telling of the experiences got him rock hard again and it was with delight that you let him take the lead the rest of the evening. Once he’d donned another condom after feasting on your pussy one more time, he took you on your back, legs wrapped around his waist so he could grab at them when he needed to open you wider or lift your leg over his shoulder to find that one final deep spot that had you panting his name and coming hard around him. He took one more lingering kiss, then pulled out and tidied up, joining you back under the covers for a final round of pillow talk before turning in for the night.

Somehow, with the knowledge that the physical part of the evening was over, the air in the room changed and the conversation did as well. He wasn’t overly concerned with keeping the topics to the scene, but you found yourself second guessing if you should ask anything at all about Walter. It seemed rude, even though Mike had been completely open about it. This stay wasn’t that one. 

You’d booked an overnight and Geralt hadn’t needed to bend time for you, if that was even something he could do, so you had no direct in with a question about his possible gifts. You could maybe ask why Lambert had called him Wolf, since they were both from the same school. But in the end it was Geralt who brought up Walter, without realizing what he was doing.

“I lucked into this spot. The hotel had just lost one of their best hosts, and the guy was booked solid weeks out. They’re still trying to find another werewolf to take his room, but in the meantime they contacted me and set up this level.”

“How did they find out about you?” you asked, trying to keep your heart rate from spiking at the hint of information about Walter.

“The way they find out about any of us, I suppose. Word of mouth.”

“Do you know what happened to him? The guy before you?” You didn’t think you were holding your breath, but Geralt’s answer told you otherwise.

“Not a clue. I try not to get caught up in the gossip. Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to faint. That’s a real skill since you’re already laying down.”

You tried to take a breath and laugh it off at the same time, asking your next question with a feigned indifference. “There’s gossip in this hotel?”

Geralt’s laugh was infectious. “There’s gossip at every hotel, but this one's something else. I think the vampire is the ring leader. I try to stay away from it. Keep my head down. Take care of my guests. And I shouldn't have even said that. Please forgive me.”

It was obvious he wasn't going to give up much more information, if he even knew anything specific to begin with. You tried to stifle a yawn, but Geralt noticed and stood up to blow out the candles illuminating the room, leaving one small oil lamp burning. When he returned to bed, you curled up into his warmth. You felt a little bad about imagining it was Walt you were snuggled next to, but it didn’t stop you from drifting asleep with a smile on your face.

You opened your messaging app as you were about to step out of the cafe where you’d gone for a latte the next morning after dropping your bag at home.

sendmeanangel: you’ll never guess who showed up to get coffee this morning 

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble @brattymum96

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

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if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

[pia55tri]

Carcar prompt!!

Carlos follows Oscar back on Insta randomly and Oscar is very ??? about it hehe

thank you for sending in a prompt 🫶

Oscar gets so many notifications on his public socials that he’s muted them all. That isn’t to say that he isn’t immediately informed when anything happens, because he is.

This time, it’s a message from his social media manager, who doesn’t really manage his posts, but does keep an eye out on them for the team. It goes, Just a few comments from some drivers on your latest post. And Carlos followed you back.

And Oscar’s immediate instinct is to ask, Carlos who?

Is it Carlos Alcaraz? That would be cool, but unlikely.

Even just as unlikely is Carlos Sainz Jr. following him back. But that’s just what happens.

Oscar stares at his followers list for a long moment. He isn’t on bad terms with Carlos, per se. But they’re not on — on great terms either. They just.

They talk. A lot. Carlos talks a lot, in general, and Oscar is exactly the type to goad him, so when they end up in the same vicinity — which is often, nowadays, given that they’re both living in Monaco and bumping into each other at the gym, or the padel court, or even Lando’s favourite haunts around the city — they end up talking for longer than Oscar anticipates.

And they take the same private jets. Same planes, if they’re flying commercial. They have the same friends on the grid. They go to the same gym.

It just happens. Oscar never expected it to, but it does. And somehow all those coincidences and those conversations snowball into texting on the regular and sending each other ridiculous posts from the internet and sports news clips and short messages about their very separate days. And.

Anyway. Throughout it all, Carlos never followed Oscar back on instagram. It was funny, at first (and still is, really), because Carlos would leave comments on his posts like a terrible stalker. For the first few weeks of their sort-of-friendship, Oscar doesn’t think that Carlos even knew he hadn’t been following Oscar back. But it’s since been a little joke between them.

(And imagine that, an inside joke between Oscar and Carlos Sainz Jr. Oscar was a child and spectator at one of Carlos’s rookie races. Little Oscar would have laughed in disbelief. Rookie Oscar would have also laughed in disbelief, in, albeit, a mildly different manner.)

So, now. Oscar is up at an unreasonable time, lounging in his underwear, in the middle of his messy room, and staring at the carlossainz55 in his followers list.

What the fuck.

He needs a sympathetic ear.

🏎🏎

“Okay?” Logan is not at all sympathetic. “And, uh, how does that make you feel?”

“I’m. Normal about it.”

“If you were normal about it, you wouldn’t have called me about it at,” a rustle and a sigh, “three in the morning about it. Mate, I have a meeting in, like, four hours.”

“Logan, please.”

“Call Fred or something.”

“No!” Oscar immediately protests. “And no calling Lando either. They’ll just tell me to— to smooch him or something.”

Another pause. “Well, mate, I don’t know what to tell you, but I personally think that if you’re thinking about ‘smooching’ someone at three in the morning, then you should probably do that.”

Oscar groans. “Fuck you, too.”

“Cheers,” Logan says brightly, then hangs up on him.

Oscar groans again.

🏎🏎

He finally gives in to his little lizard hindbrain and pulls up his messages with Carlos.

So you’re finally signing up to seeing me on your timeline regularly?

He stares at his screen with some shock at his own audacity. What is he—

A buzz. And a reply from Carlos.

Much easier than me going to look for your account every time I want to see you, yes?

Oscar stares some more.

Carefully, he places his phone screen-down on his bed. Looks up at the ceiling.

He can feel his heart in his throat.

Well.

Well.