#bumping shoulders and catching the others eyes

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (44/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Let's get this party started!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of previous smut), alcohol consumption, slight jealousy, a kiss

Word Count: 3.6k

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A/N: we love girls girls. happy Sunday to everyone! feedback is appreciated!

Your little heels click on the asphalt of the streets of Monaco as Kika and you walk towards the club, arms hooked and cheeks warm from the wine. Cold wind blows in your faces. 

“I was so happy when Charles invited us to come with you,” Kika smiles and lays her head on your shoulder, which is certainly quite uncomfortable due to your uneven pace. But she doesn't seem to care. 

You rest your cheek against her top of her head. "I didn't even know that you were coming tonight until a few hours ago," you say. 

“He apparently only messaged Pierre today and asked,” the Portuguese woman says, lifting her head from your shoulder. "Very spontaneous. But all the better that it worked.”

You smile at her. "That's true.”

Together you turn a corner and immediately the club on the other side of the street catches your eye. Neon signs, which somehow don't fit with the rest of the city's atmosphere, draw attention to the building and the closer you get, the louder the music seems to get, penetrating through the walls. A few people are standing in front of the double doors, guarded by security guards dressed in black, discussing admission. 

When you see the clipboards in the hands of the broad-built men, you stop abruptly, causing Kika to almost trip and bump into you. 

“Are you okay? What's wrong?” she asks, looking at you in confusion. 

Nervously, you nod in the direction of the club. ”They have clipboards.”

Kika looks at the bouncers and then back at you. “No shit, Sherlock. That's where the guest list is,” she replies and tries to pull you a little further. “Why are you stopping? Have you changed your mind? Don't you want to party?”

“Yes, I do,” you reply hesitantly. “But how do we get in there if they have a guest list?”

A grin spreads across Kika's beautiful face before she puts her arm around you and pushes you forward. “Do you really doubt that we'll get in?” she asks, and when she catches your nervous glance, she pulls you closer. “You were invited by a Formula 1 driver, querida. You're the last person who needs to worry.”

As you cross the street and stand behind the people who are still arguing with the bouncers, you realize how different your life seems to be now. 

Ten days ago, you were worried about how you would pay your rent if you didn't find a job – and now you're spending nights on yachts, your best friend is a model and you're partying with Formula 1 drivers in Monaco's most chic clubs. And you're even living with one of them.

And you love him too. 

The bouncers don't seem to be giving in, and the more unyielding they look, the more annoyed the men in their black suits appear. As people try to negotiate their entry and wave banknotes in their hands, the men look past them and nod to you. 

Without hesitation, Kika pulls you through the crowd and comes to a stop in front of the entrance doors. She is about to open her mouth when one of the bouncers takes a step to the side and smiles at you. “Good evening, ladies,” he says in a deep voice, holding the door open for you. “Mr. Norris is expecting you.”

“Thank you very much,” Kika replies with a broad smile, quickly pulling you along behind her so that you can only say a quiet ‘thank you’ to the two men before the club's double doors close behind you and you are enveloped in dim light, warm air and music that gets louder with every step you take. 

“See? That wasn't so hard,” your friend grins, and together you walk down a short hallway before entering a large room. To your left are a few seating areas on an ampore, some open and others roped off. To your right is a long bar stretching across the room, with lots of people already gathered around it. And right in front of you – there's the dance floor. 

At the back is the DJ booth, currently manned by a woman who seems to know exactly what the crowd wants to hear. With precision and skill, she flows from one song to the next without you really noticing, and the audience is eating out of her hands. 

“Hello, you two beauties,” someone suddenly says behind you, and when you turn around, you see Lando's face. He's wearing a white shirt, the top buttons casually undone so that part of his chest can be seen. With arms outstretched, he hugs Kika first before pulling you close and planting a kiss on your cheek. “How are you? How was Christmas?” he asks, taking each of your hands to pull you to the seating areas on the left. He briefly lets go of Kika's hand to untie one of the ribbons before letting you go ahead. 

“It was great,” Kika replies and takes off her long jacket before dropping onto one of the dark couches. She crosses her legs. "But I think our girl here had the most fun," she grins, raising her eyebrows. You give her a dirty look. 

Lando turns to you with raised eyebrows. ”Did you two fuck?”

“That's exactly what I asked!” Kika laughs and claps her hands joyfully. 

You feel the heat rising to your face, and it's not because you're still wearing your coat. Tensioned, you take it off and lay it over the back of the couch. “We didn't,” you answer curtly and roll your eyes. 

Kika and Lando exchange a meaningful look that you try to ignore. 

“Where are the boys, anyway?“ the Brit finally asks, rubbing his hands together as if he can't wait to see his friends again. 

“They dropped us off one street over so they could find a parking lot and so we wouldn't all be seen together,” Kika replies, reaching for the drinks menu on the small table in front of her. She begins to flip through it. 

“Very good.” Lando turns to you. "Today, only guests are invited who I and Martin know personally and trust so much that no one has to worry about any photos getting out," he smiles, putting his arm around your shoulders. 

You look up at him. ”Really?”

He nods. “So you don't need to worry. And neither does Charles.” He gently pulls you close before letting you go again. “So, girls. What can I get you to drink? Wine, cocktails, shots?”

“I'd like a strawberry margarita,” Kika replies, leaning back on the couch. 

“A piña colada, please.”

“All right. I'll be right back.“ Without turning back to you, he leaves and heads towards the bar, where he is immediately greeted and hugged by a few people, while you first make yourselves comfortable in your seating area. 

“Do you know this Martin guy?” you ask the Portuguese woman, who looks over at the crowd. 

She nods briefly. “Martin is really nice. And he's a good DJ,” she replies, and you notice how her gaze sticks to the female DJ. “He just doesn't look as good as she does.”

You can't suppress a grin. ”He doesn't have to look good as a DJ, does he? He just has to be good at what he does.”

“That's right,” Kika agrees with you before turning to face you. She points with her thumb over her shoulder and towards the DJ booth. ”But she's definitely hotter.”

Before you can say anything, Lando returns with a tray and sets it down in front of you. Your two cocktails and more glasses are on it, but there are also small shot glasses filled with red liquid. He hands you your drinks. 

“There we are,” Pierre greets all of you and briefly embraces Lando. Charles is standing behind him and smiles at you. 

“I'm glad you all made it,” the Brit smiles, giving the Monegasque a quick hug before everyone sits down. 

Charles takes a seat next to you, so close that he can press his leg against yours. “Hi,” he smiles gently. “Everything okay?” You return his smile and nod before taking a sip of your cocktail. His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips, which wrap around the straw. “Piña Colada?”

“Mh-hmm.” You hold the straw out to him and watch as he takes a sip. "Do you like it?”

“I do,’ he admits. ”But somehow I prefer the Nightmare Colada.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at his words and the thought of the night when you got drunk on his boat. How you poured out your hearts. 

“To a great evening,” Lando raises his voice and hands everyone a shot glass. Carefully, each of you takes one, careful not to spill any of the red liquid. ”Cheers!”

The drinks that make their way to your table over the next two hours taste so fantastically good that Kika and you doubt that there is much alcohol in them. The cocktails taste fantastic and the music puts everyone in a good mood, so you leave your table and hit the dance floor. 

Your group dances to the beat that the DJ is playing like tipsy teenagers. Kika and you hold hands and dance together, causing the boys' eyes to almost pop out of their heads. The Portuguese woman presses her front against yours, her hands on your hips while yours are on her shoulders. And when she leans forward with pouting lips, you can't help but press a friendly kiss on her lips. You hear someone whistle – it's definitely Pierre – and when you both pull away from each other, you have to laugh. 

Kika puts her arm around your shoulders and the other around Charles. “I can't believe I kissed this beauty here before you did, Leclerc,” she grins. 

Charles looks at you with rosy cheeks, but his words are directed at Kika. “Is she a good kisser?”

“The best kisser I ever had,” the brunette replies with a grin before letting go of you and throwing her arms around her boyfriend. 

Charles and you look at each other uncertainly. 

Well, why haven't you kissed each other yet?

The thought is haunting your mind, but you can't answer the question. 

Doesn't Charles want to kiss you? You've definitely done things that are definitely not PG-rated. You can almost feel his spent between your thighs and his lips on your neck, the tip of his cock nudging against your clit and – 

Why haven't you kissed each other?

The Monegasque seems to notice your thoughts, but before he can say anything, Kika grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar. You lean against the counter and wait for one of the bartenders to notice you when your friend takes your hand. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in concern. 

“Why do you ask?” you reply with a counter question. 

When a bartender reaches you, Kika orders your drinks. "I didn't want it to be weird between you and Charles. I'm sorry.”

You smile weakly at her and give her a quick hug. ’It's all right. We won't let this ruin our evening, okay?”

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” She asks, tilting her head. ‘You can call me day or night and I'll come to you. I promise.”

Your smile grows wider. "I'm already aware of that.”

“And I really love you, you know that?“ She puts her hands on your upper arms and hugs you tightly. Apparently, Kika gets emotional when she's drunk. 

“I love you too,” you return her embrace, and when the bartender puts your drinks in front of you, you both toast. 

“To the coolest girls, aka us,” she grins. As you both take a sip, someone taps her on the shoulder. Your best friend turns around and apparently she knows the young woman standing behind her, because she pulls her into a fleeting embrace before introducing you. ”Querida, this is Elena. She is also a model.”

In front of you stands a breathtaking beauty. With her brown hair, dark eyes and dark complexion, she looks as if she has just flown in from vacation. She is wearing a black and white dress that highlights her figure and accentuates exactly the right places to make her look flawless. 

You smile at her and introduce yourself as well. “Nice to meet you,” you say and extend your hand, but Elena kisses you on the left and then on the right cheek. 

“It's nice to meet you, too,” she replies with a smile before approaching you. ”Wait. Wipe below your eyebrows. You have some mascara on there.”

Without questioning her remark, you do as she says, and apparently it's good, because both women look at you with satisfaction afterwards. “Thank you,” you say. “That's very nice.”

Elena waves it off. ‘Don't worry. I'd want someone to tell me that too." She leans against the bar. ”You already have your drinks, right? Should I order shots for us?” she asks, but before either of you can answer, she is already talking to the bartender, who quickly prepares a cocktail and sets down three shot glasses in front of her. "Here you go," she says, handing each of you one of the glasses. 

After you've clinked glasses and emptied the small glasses, Kika fishes her cell phone out of her purse. ”Should we take a picture? I'm already drunk, but I definitely want a few more, and I don't think they'll get any better as the evening goes on,” she giggles, tapping someone on the shoulder to take a photo of you. First one of Kika and you, and then one of the three of you. 

“What's your name on Instagram?” Elena asks you, also digging out her phone so you can type your username into the search bar. When your profile pops up, she immediately clicks the follow button. 

Your phone lights up and the notification pops up on the lock screen, and when you tap it, you confirm her request and follow her right back. 

Her profile has a very aesthetic and artistic touch. Every picture is exactly where it should be. The colors all match and at the top of her biography is actually her full name: Elena Montpellier – one million followers – model at Bijou Management agency. 

“I didn't know that Lando had invited you,” Kika says to Elena, who just shrugs. 

“I'm here with friends,“ she replies as the three of you return to your seating area. "A friend of mine knows Martin and asked me if I wanted to come. And as if I'd stay at home when Martin is playing here in the club.”

Confused, you look from one beauty to the other. "So who is this Martin?” you ask hesitantly, afraid that Elena will laugh at you. 

But she doesn't. Quite the opposite. She slides closer to you and tells you about Martin, who is apparently a world-famous DJ. On her cell phone, she shows you videos of his shows and the crowds in front of which he usually performs, but in none of the sequences can you see his face. But suddenly she puts her cell phone down and motions for you to look up. “Speak of the devil.”

Your men join you and, like you, they have someone new with them. The face looks incredibly familiar. He kisses each of the girls on the cheek before introducing himself to you. And then it clicks. 

“Oh my God,” you gasp before he can say a word. ‘You're Martin Garrix.”

“That's me,’ he replies, visibly confused, glancing briefly at Lando, who puts his arm around your shoulder – skilfully ignoring Charles' scowl. 

“My friend here hasn't been in this industry for very long,“ he explains, gently pulling you over to his side. "This is all still pretty new.”

Martin looks back at you from Lando. ’Then I'm glad you're here today,” he smiles. “How did you end up with these guys, if you don't mind me asking?”

You're about to open your mouth to answer him, but Charles is faster. “She's my best friend,” he replies, standing next to you, his arm around your waist. He glances at Lando, who quickly removes his arm from your shoulder and catches your uncertain glance. 

“Okay, cool,” Martin simply replies. ”I still have about half an hour before I have to go to the desk. So, what's going on in your lives?”

While everyone is chatting, you hold back and watch. Pierre and Lando are talking, while Charles, Elena and Martin have moved closer together and the latter is showing something on his cell phone to the other two. You lean back into the couch and sip on your cocktail, Kika leaning on you. 

“I'm sorry he introduced you as his best friend,” she says, only audible to you. 

When you shrug, her head wobbles. “It's okay. I've made my peace with it,” you reply with a half-truth. 

Of course, you would prefer to be more than just his best friend – after all, you share a bed and the images of his expression when he came and painted your thighs refuse to leave you – but if his friendship is all you get from him, then that's that. 

“Please take care of yourself.” Kika raises her head and looks at you anxiously. ”I don't want you to get hurt. You've already been through so much.”

You gently press a kiss on her forehead. “I appreciate your concern.” Your gaze flickers over to Charles, who is now talking only to Elena. He shows her something on his phone and they both have to laugh. The woman leans forward a little to get a better look at the screen, but holds her neckline of the dress so that you can't see inside. 

Charles eyes move from his screen to you, without looking at Elena once. 

You smile at him, but before he can return it, the woman next to him says something and his attention is back to her, as if you weren't there. Maybe he just wants to be polite, after all, Pascale has taught him well and Charles is not one who just -

“Hi,” someone interrupts your train of thought and when you look up, Martin is standing in front of you. "I'm going to the DJ booth now and I thought you might like to join me," he suggests. ”As a kind of welcome and an apology for being so strange just now.”

You raise your eyebrows in wonder. “Actually, I should be the one to apologize. I'm not quite into the ‘famous people know other famous people’ thing yet. I'm sorry.”

Martin waves it off. “Don't worry. It takes some getting used to. But maybe it will help if you support me at the DJ booth.” He holds out his hand. 

“I've never done this before. So I can't guarantee anything,” you smile, which makes him laugh. 

“I'll show you everything. And if necessary, you can just stand next to me and look beautiful, but that shouldn't be a problem.“ 

“All right.” Without hesitation, you put your hand in his and he helps you to your feet. You take a quick glance at Kika, who grins at you and pushes the rest of your cocktail into your free hand, wishing you lots of fun. 

Your eyes flicker over to Charles, whose eyes are already glued to you. He doesn't seem to notice Elena at all, she talks and talks and apparently shows him something without realizing that his attention is not on her right now. He looks from your face to your hand, which is still holding Martin's, so that he can guide you through the crowd in a moment. 

It doesn't feel right to hold another man's hand, even if it's just for a moment. It should be Charles' hand holding yours. Charles' fingers entwined with yours. But Charles is sitting there with Elena, knee to knee. 

“Are you okay?” Martin asks, looking from you to Charles, who can't take his eyes off the two of you. 

You swallow and smile at him. “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” the DJ asks implausibly. “Charles looks at me as if he wants to kill me. You're just friends, aren't you?”

With your eyes fixed on Charles, you answer him. "Best friends," you correct him with the words of the Monegasque, before turning to Martin. ”Shall we?”

"With pleasure.”

As the two of you leave the seating area and you don't turn around to catch the eye of your best friend, Charles clenches his jaw. 

He already knows the feeling that is welling up inside of him, but last time it was Lando who triggered it and he had to work on himself not to see the Brit as competition. Which is complete nonsense, because Charles knows that Lando would never come between the two of you, not after he called the Monegasque and put him in his place while he was in Italy. 

And Charles knows that he has nothing to worry about. He is the man you go home with later. He is the man you share your bed with at night. He is the man who will later push up your dress and is allowed to touch you where you need him most. 

He knows all of this. And yet there is nothing he can do about it, except feel increasingly jealous with every step you take away from him.

[wibben]

Premium Air

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

“Oooh, Kentooo—”

Your sing-song lilt carried through the door as you shouldered your way inside, precariously balancing keys and groceries and your coat sleeves and your phone and everything in your arms. The door thunked shut behind you with a deft bump of your hip, and your voice practically dripped with syrupy mischief.

You were always happy to come home to your husband. But tonight you were practically bursting at the seams.

The prank had planted itself in your brain during an idle moment of scrolling earlier – a viral video of some poor soul falling hook, line, and sinker for their partner’s insistence they’d paid for “premium air” in their tires.

The disbelief. The sheer, helpless outrage. It was perfect.

What other choice did you have, really?

You had to try it on Kento.

The warm scents of garlic and herbs welcomed you home like an old friend as you stepped into the kitchen where Kento stood – apron-clad and sleeves rolled to his elbows – methodically slicing vegetables. It was a scene straight out of some too-perfect ad for domestic bliss.

“Welcome home,” he smiled, not even glancing up, the low rumble of his voice curling warmly around the words. “How was your day?”

“Good,” you said lightly, sidling up to the counter where he worked, the marble smooth under your fingertips. Your hand found its way to his hip – a quick squeeze – before plucking at the apron strings knotted snugly at his waist. “I got air in the tires while I was out, by the way.”

“Good,” he said simply, pausing in his work just long enough to catch you by the waist. The kiss he pressed to your brow was automatic, familiar, and warm in a way that settled your nerves even as your grin threatened to betray you. “Thank you for taking care of that.”

You lingered for a beat, fiddling with a kitchen towel, busying yourself with nothing in particular while you readied your pièce de résistance. Straight face, poker face, you could do it—

“Mhm!” you chirped, as if it had just occurred to you. “I got the premium air, actually. So we should be good for a while.”

The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board stuttered, then stopped entirely.

You didn’t dare look at him, instead scrubbing furiously at an invisible stain on the counter. “Premium air?”

“Yeah!” Your tone brightened, easy as if you’d snagged the deal of a lifetime. “Supposed to last longer or something. Smoother ride. The guy said it’s good for fuel efficiency, too.”

He turned now, his full attention leveled on you. Arms crossed, brow furrowing just slightly, like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon, and you knew you had him.

“How much did it cost?”

You hesitated, just long enough to sell it. “... Five hundred dollars.”

His lips parted slightly, brows climbing toward his hairline. For a moment, he just stared, the silence heavy with disbelief. Then his eyes slid shut, and he let out a long, resigned sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as though you’d planted a headache just beneath his fingertips.

“Five hundred dollars,” he repeated, his voice somewhere between incredulous and exasperated. “For air.”

You shrugged, biting back a grin so wide it hurt. “Well, it’s premium.”

“Did he give you a receipt?”

He scoffed, already moving for his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he muttered under his breath, “... taking advantage of someone like that – what kind of business are they running…”

Your lip caught between your teeth as you tried – and nearly failed – not to laugh.

“Nope. Said the machine was down.”

“Where did you go?” he demanded, steel laced his tone, though not for you – never for you. His frustration, his righteous indignation, was aimed squarely at whoever had dared, in his mind, to deceive you. “Which shop? I’ll handle this.”

You decided enough was enough, then. He was sufficiently prickly and you’d gotten your satisfaction from his defense of you, the armor he donned just for you without hesitation. It was time to put an end to it before he marched out the door, ready to wage war on the world in your honor all because of some unscrupulous mechanic that doesn’t exist.

“Kento—” you started, fighting to keep the laughter from spilling over, but he cut you off, glasses nudged firmly back into place as he muttered to himself, “They think they can pull something like that on you? On you?”

He paused mid-dial, a flicker of something indecipherable passing over his face as he looked at you. His tone was steady as ever.

“Did they at least refill your blinker fluid while you were there?”

You blinked. “My what?”

“Blinker fluid,” he repeated, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “And grease the horn. That’s critical for winter. It’ll seize up if you don’t.”

Your mouth opened, the beginnings of indignation clawing up your throat, but he pressed on, nodding as though delivering sage advice from on high. “And the engine,” he added thoughtfully. “I hope they waxed it. People always forget to wax the engine.”

“Wax the–? That’s not even—”

He exhaled, heavy and martyred, as though the weight of your ignorance had become his cross to bear. “I should double-check,” he muttered, already setting the knife on the board and moving to step past you. “And the muffler oil. Did they top that off? Or are we going to have to go back tomorrow?”

“No!” you yelped, darting into his path and planting both hands against his chest to halt his progress. “Wait – Kento, no! You don’t have to check anything!”

His momentum stilled, his palms settling lightly over your wrists, warm and unhurried, as he looked down at you with an almost clinical curiosity. “No?” he repeated. “I need to make sure your car is safe to drive, I won’t have you getting into an accident because your engine isn’t properly waxed.”

You wilted under his scrutiny, exasperation bubbling to the surface in a huff. “No! There’s no such thing as blinker fluid, or muffler oil, or… or premium air! I made it all up! It’s a prank, Kento. A joke. You’re not actually supposed to believe it.”

There was a beat of silence, his expression so unreadable you began to second-guess whether the joke was on you. And then – his lips twitched. It was the faintest movement, barely perceptible, but it unraveled into a low, rumbling laugh that warmed the space between you like the crackle of a hearth. His smile – soft and indulgent – followed close behind.

“You thought I’d fall for premium air?” he asked, his voice thick with amusement, hands sliding up to frame your shoulders with infuriating ease. “You thought that would work?”

Your protest died on your lips, replaced by a flustered splutter, as he guided you backward with a careful pressure. The countertop met your hips, the cool edge sharp against the warmth radiating from him. His hands didn’t leave your shoulders, steady and grounding, until he was satisfied you wouldn’t bolt.

“That would only work if I thought you were stupid enough to fall for something as ridiculous as that. You’re too smart for that, and I know it.”

“... but you’re staying right here where I can keep an eye on you,” he hummed, his breath brushing your temple as he leaned past you to retrieve his knife. “Clearly, you’re not to be trusted.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Oh really?”

“That’s right.” He resumed chopping, his voice maddeningly even as though you hadn’t just been maneuvered into a corner like some errant schoolchild. “Five hundred for premium air. Honestly.”

“I was trying to prank you!”

“And you failed,” he said smoothly, glancing at you with a smirk that sent your blood pressure soaring. “But next time, you might want to pick something a little more believable. Like… gold-plated windshield wipers.”

A groan escaped you as you thunked your forehead against his shoulder in an act of theatrical despair. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. Without missing a beat, he tapped a freshly chopped carrot slice against your pursed lips. “Now, stop sulking and taste this for me.”

[kngrose]

can we get some bully headcanons for sevika? Please 😫🥵

bully! sevika headcanons

WARNINGS: bullying, harassment, implied degradation, implied dehumanization, abuse, violence

AN: anon………… you might be onto something…

When it comes to bullying you, Sevika takes it to a different, almost sadistic level. There’s something particularly unsettling about the way Sevika derives enjoyment from your discomfort and pain, especially because she perceives you as weak and vulnerable.

It’s not enough that she’s already double your size, her sheer height that towers yours, and her mass— inclined top to bottom with muscle. Or that she could easily snap you in two if she so pleased.

She’ll be testing the waters at first; bumping your shoulders harshly when she passed you, hard enough to make you stumble back. Or tripping you occasionally, watching your arms flail fruitlessly to catch yourself.

Because bullying isn't simply about asserting dominance; it’s about relishing in the power she holds over the situation. It’s about drawing a reaction out of you, it fufills her in a way nothing else does.

She’ll step up her game once she realizes a little bump on your shoulders just isn’t enough. Now, she’s spewing insults and making harsh threats. Talking poorly of you amongst others in your presence; all to make you acutely aware of the hierarchy. The dynamic. She’s the one in control, you don’t get to ignore her.

And there’s never a sense of empathy or remorse in her actions—only a dark satisfaction that feeds her ego and solidifies her position of power over you.

She’s harsh, she’s cold. She incredibly insensitive. What really makes Sevika stand out is the fact that she takes her time, patience is a virtue. She’s calculated with what she says and does; makes sure its always something that’ll hit the nail on the head.

When she speaks, it’s laced with a cold, condescending tone. She finds content in making you feel small, belittling your every attempt to stand up for yourself. Her words are like ice, cutting through any bravado you might try to muster.

She’ll give you orders, ones that are humiliating and degrading. Ones that almost dehumanize you. Dont walk towards her, crawl. What reason do you have to walk anyways? Not like you’re going anywhere she isn’t. And in addition to that, there’s no need to take a chair either, you’ll be just fine on your knees at her feet. She doesn't need to raise her voice; the venom in her tone is enough to make your stomach turn.

She makes it very clear that you’d better do what she says.

And if you hesitate? That’s when Sevika leans in, her proximity a reminder that she’s always in control. The heavy threat of physical violence is there, lurking in her body language, and that’s usually all it takes to make you pliant. You have no idea what she’s capable of.

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to break something."

When she does decide to escalate, it’s a careful and well thought out move. She might corner you in a quiet, isolated spot, where your fear is palpable, and she can enjoy the way your breath hitches when you realize there’s nowhere to run.

She’ll impose her massive size on you, blocking you in. Trapping you. It’s maddening, not know what her next move is.

And if you try to fight her, she’ll be elated. She couldn’t miss that small fire erupting in your eyes. A look nothing short of sadistic etching it’s way onto her face. It’s thrilling, she thinks. It’s almost cute, watching you aim poorly executed blows at her face and chest; your form is horrible, you’re doing more damage to yourself than anything. She’ll snicker, because it’s funny, and because she knows it’ll discourage you.

She’ll relish in this moment, she loves to watch the fire dim.

“Feeling brave, puppy?” She’ll sneer, and she’ll push you. Hard. It’s sends you backwards, just barely keeping your balance. Its the first time shes used her full force on you. “Fight me, then.” She’ll follow up with another shove, this one knocking you off your feet.

And she’ll bend down, gripping the collar of your shirt to reel you back up. “On your feet. Fight.” She doesn’t even have to hit you, she realizes. She’s just tossing you around, pushing and shoving and pushing and shoving. Watching you hit every corner in the room. “Fight back.” She’ll bark, but she knows that you won’t.

She can see it manifesting on you, clear as day. You’re tired; you can hardly keep your balance up. There’s small bruises forming on your shoulders and arms; from being shoved into different surfaces.

But there’s something else she notices as she grabs you off the floor again, your scared, tired eyes meeting hers.

That fire, it’s gone.

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist to be notified whenever i post, xx

taglist: @opropheticsoul @randomperson291 @arevik2345 @gravegoer @d3eathnotes @nikaachuuuu

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

NOTE: short chapter ? (If you guys have any questions head to my inbox ^^, and I all know we wanna see a sex scene where they’re bumping against each others clits, and scissoring, It’ll happen soon trust me)

⟣・S2・WATCH IT ALL BURN︰

YOU WALK INTO a pretty battered up place, a hand on your hip as you walked next to caitlyn. you were still a little injured from yesterday but that’s okay, the green smoke was clouding your goggles that were attached to your face, causing a frustrated sigh to escape you. the rest of the enforcers including you, were searching for jinx after the incident that had happened.

It wasn’t just an incident, it was a pretty big one, cause caitlyn’s mom got caught in the crossfire. least to say it wasn’t surprising that caitlyn was on the verge of losing it, but she was holding her composure the best she could.

Not to mention you getting hurt was one of her biggest regrets, she wish she could’ve protected you more— but things happen.

Vi checks over her shoulder from time to time to make sure you’re alright, she doesn’t want you getting caught in her sister’s bullshit. It was pretty scary being here, if you were truthful.

You never met jinx but you’ve heard so many good and bad things about her. Honestly, none of it seemed to make sense anymore. She just sounded like a broken person overall, someone who just needed help.

Jinx was hiding somewhere near the ceiling, she could see you, caitlyn, and vi. her pink colored eyes landing on you as she raised her gun slightly, she wondered what it would be like if vi were to lose the most precious thing she’s had in her life— due to being in jail for long 7 years.

You and caitlyn really switched vi’s life around, even though right now she didn’t like having to be an enforcer. But if it was to stop her sister? It was the right thing to do, it has to stop at some point.

Jinx hand starts to shake as tears prick her eyes, she leans back and hides behind a wall— not bothering to take the shot.

She’s just hated what her sisters become, so lovestruck on you and out to get her— it wasn’t fair.

You flinch slightly when music suddenly comes on, making you step back quickly.

“It’s okay, (name).” Maddie tells you, placing her hand on your shoulder. “No one’s there.”

Caitlyn’s eye twitched when she saw the way maddie had placed her hand on your shoulder, her lips upturning into a frown as she grew a little annoyed— maddie always used the sweet act with you just to get close.

And it pissed off vi and cait.

YOU HAD TO take a minute to catch your breath as you leaned against the wall, collapsing to your knees as you lift up your top underneath your shirt, the gash still there from the time you had gotten injured after the explosion. Vi and caitlyn make their way towards you, their expressions full of worry and concern.

“Are you okay, love?” Caitlyn asks as she kneels to your level, the height difference between you three very visible. Cait being taller than vi and vi being taller than you. that was so cute.

Vi tucks some of your hair behind your ear as she rubs her thumb over your cheek, “we can take you back. you didn’t have to come with us.” she tells you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“No, no,” You reply. “I want to help. I’m tired of lying in bed doing nothing.”

Caitlyn knows it wasn’t the best time to be taking at look at your boobs but they were so round and pretty she just wanted to put her hand over it and squeeze them in her possession. If only her thoughts weren’t so vivid right now, she probably would be dead set on getting revenge on jinx which—of course—she still is.

Vi reaches to grab the curvy part of your waist, her hand easily squeezing there gently. “Okay. but if you feel sick let us know.”

“I’m okay, guys, seriously.” You tell them, “I can handle myself.”

“If you’re sure.” Caitlyn replies, trying to keep her dirty thoughts away.

If they were out of sight, they’d be out of mind. right?

Wrong!

Vi couldn’t help but take a look at your chest again, oh this felt so wrong and disrespectful but it felt so good at the same time. when she first met you, she already knew she would take a liking to you.

The thought of being between your legs right now and wanting to hear you whimper was not what she had in mind but she wanted it to happen, she craved it to happen.

Standing up you dust yourself off, “okay-- let’s go get the others. I think I know a route.”

“After you sweets.” Vi replies softly, dusting herself off.

Caitlyn stood up as well, vi taking a long look at your ass before quickly adverting her gaze.

They do not know how long they’re gonna last.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

[misahyochaeng]

Candy

(Fem!Reader x Poly!Samo)🔞

tw: Dom!Samo, Sub!Reader, Club/Stripper!AU, Dancer!Samo, Slight CnC, Drunk sex, Threesome, Food play, Exhibitionism, Shy!Reader, “Unexperienced" Reader, Fingering, Body worship, Mentions of liquids or spit of some sort, Backstage sex (REPOST FROM MY WATTPAD!!!!)

a/n: this is an old chapter i’ve decided to repost, im sorry if the writing style is off.

—

—"Come on, Y/N, stop being such a sore loser!"

Nayeon mocked as she gave you a light shove on your shoulder. Jihyo looking at you with furrowed eyebrows as she crossed her arms.

—"All you do is play games at home, go out with us for once!!"

Your roommates complained, they were usually party people, often out drinking or clubbing; you on the other hand were completely opposite.

You preferred to stay in, sure you liked to go out from time to time and have fun, but you didn't see the need to do it all the time, you'd rather stay home and have your alone time.

Though the nagging was getting on your nerves, and you knew it wasnt gonna end any time soon, so you gave in.

—"Alright, Alright.."

You groaned, standing up from bed, running a hand through your messy bed hair.

Before you know it, the girls pulled you into your vanity for a "makeover".

Nayeon did your makeup, while Jihyo chose a proper outfit for you, and in a matter of seconds, you were fully dolled up.

They both checked you out, smirking a bit.

—"Not bad, Y/N.. you should thank us."

Jihyo remarked in a slightly cocky tone.

You looked in a mirror and was a bit taken aback from your appearance, you were wearing a short, dark red bodycon dress, topping it off with black heels and a leather jacket, and your makeup was dark yet femenine; it was obvious you were gonna catch some looks in the club.

—"Oh wow,"

You mumble as you stared brainlessly at the mirror,

—"Yeahh, yeahh.. we know, you look stunning."

Nayeon said in a bit of a sultry voice, creeping up behind you and hugging you, hands on your waist and squeezing your sides, she smiled as she leaned on your shoulder.

—"Let's get going."

Jihyo replied as she dragged you both into the car, drifting away to the club.

The club was packed when you got there, visible for a weekend, you let out a shaky sigh as Nayeon held onto your arm and led you to the club, showing your ID to the bouncer as you finally reached inside.

After a while, you lost the girls, they had downed so many drinks down your system that your head was pounding and everything felt like a slight blur.

You stumbled around trying to find them until you bumped into two girls, groaning as you fell hard on your bottom.

—"Fuck, i'm sorry."

You rubbed yourself softly before looking up, jaw falling open and eyes widening at the sight.

There hovered two dancers, you'd been observing their entire performance before and having them this close felt surreal.

—"Wow... i mean, sorry, did i say that out loud?"

You stammered, eyebrows furrowing and cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment,

The dancer with black hair and bangs stared at you with amusement, the latter next to her giggling a bit and reaching her hand out to you.

You finally realized you'd been on the floor the whole time, taking her gentle hand and standing up.

—"I-i'm really sorry about that."

—"It's okay honey."

The girl with bangs replied, eyeing the girl next to her, it was like they were communicating with just eye contact.

—"Say, you seem nice.. you alone? how about a drink with us."

—"No I' should get going to my frie—"

—"Whatever, come on let's go."

The two well dressed dancers grabbed you and pulled you into their own backstage room, you passed by bouncers, dancers and even pimps flirting with girls.

As you crashed on the couch, the girls began pouring pure alcohol.

—"Loosen up, sweetheart, let's have some drinks, no?"

The brown haired girl handed you a shot, your hand a bit shaky as you took it gently.

—"I'm Sana by the way, and my little companion there is Momo."

She said as she pointed at the cold looking girl with bangs mixing up the drinks, you weren't gonna lie, her presence was scary.

—"And you are?.."

—"Y/N."

You replied quick, bringing a pillow to your lap, covering your revealing outfit.

—"Great, Y/N! Well.. how about we play some drinking games, loosen up a bit. hm?"

Sana appealed as Momo quietly brought over the multiple shot glasses and cups.

—"Alright.."

You blurted awkwardly as you began playing.

—"Okay, the games pretty simple, we'll flip a coin and the player has to guess if it's head or tails, whoever loses has to be given a shot by their opponent, alright?"

Sana inquired, eyes staring at you with a slight glint; you nodded.

—"Alright! I'll do it with my dear Momo so you'll visualize the game a bit better."

Sana smiled, scooting over to Momo who was staring at you both with an unreadable expression.

Sana pulled out a coin and flipped it, covering it with her hand after taking a peek.

—"Alright Momoring, heads or tails?"

Sana said in a cheeky tone, a mischievous smile plastered on her face.

There was a moment of silence as Momo thinked, the bass of the music outside the backstage only being heard.

—"Tails."

Momo replied, smirking softly as she read Sana's face for a response.

—"Dangit!"

Sana groaned softly, a pout evident on her face.

Momo chuckled as she stood up and picked up a shot glass, pushing Sana down gently on the couch next to you, her eyes darkened and dominant, she lifted Sana's chin up and forced her mouth open, pouring the shot glass into the latter's mouth.

The sight brought a feeling to your stomach, you didn't know if it was Momo's hand placement and her cocky smirk as she hovered and poured the alcohol down Sana's mouth; or if it was Sana's beady eyes, staring up at Momo as the intoxicating liquids fell in her mouth, plump lips shining as a bit of the liquid dropped down her chin.

Sana swallowed and knocked you out of your trance by speaking up.

—"Alright, you see? nice and simple! Now it's Momo's turn."

She smiled as if she wasn't looking up at her friend needily just seconds ago.

—"U-uhmm.."

—"Alright, Y/N, heads or tails?"

Momo bluntly interrupted, arms crossed as she looked down at you, a competitive smile on her face.

—"Heads?"

Momo nodded, flipping the coin swiftly and taking a look at it, she giggled before exchanging a look with Sana.

—"Wrong!"

She began approaching you even more, shot glass in her hand, but this time it was different, Sana began slithering over to your direction too.

They both had test tube shot glasses in their hands, as they got closer, both Sana and Momo straddled each of your thighs, practically pinning you down as Momo forced your mouth open.

—"Spice things up a bit, no?"

They both put the tubes in their mouth, leaning in, lips practically brushing as she both passed the liquid into your system.

—"Fuck.."

You groaned as you swallowed, the alcohol burning your throat.

—"We're gonna have a lot of fun with you."

They said in unison.

Hours passed and you played even more games, though for some reason you kept losing and drinking more and more, over and over again.

—"You lose again, Y/N"

Sana said in a teasing tone, straddling your lap as Momo handed her another shot glass, a lollipop inside the glass, adding a sweet cherry flavor to the alcohol.

—"A-again... thiss iss unfair—ugh..."

You slurred over your words, you were drunk out of your fucking mind from the amount of drinks the girls had made you take, and the amount of times you lost.

—"Shh, i know, i know, princess, just take it."

Sana glided her thumb across your lips, parting them open, taking out the lollipop, taping out the excess liquid from it before making you suck on it.

—"Fuck.."

She cursed under her breath before pouring the alcohol into your mouth, the cherry liquid dripping from your lips down your chin.

Sana couldn't resist any longer, glueing her mouth onto your bottom lips, sucking and licking up the spilling liquids.

You hummed against her lips, too drunk out of your mind to even acknowledge what was happening.

Your kisses began getting sloppy, small moans escaping your lips as Sana toyed with your chest, Momo slowly creeping behind.

—"Took you fucking long enough, how about we take this off?"

Momo laid behind you, hands massaging your shoulders and kissing your neck while Sana went to work on your lips and chest.

—"I could practically rip this dress off you, babygirl, but you look so pretty, want you to wear it for us next time you come see us."

Momo whispered in your ear, kissing your earlobe before biting it gently.

Sana began lifting up your short dress up to your hips, your arousal evident in your lacy underwear.

—"Fuck, you're soaked."

Sana bit her lip at the sight, collecting your wetness with her finger before tasting your arousal, eyes practically rolling to the back of her head as she tasted you

—"Gosh, fuck.. were gonna make a mess of you, make such a big fucking mess of you, princess"

Sana rubbed you through your underwear, teasing your slit and occasionally pressing down on your clit, while Momo payed attention to your neck and tits.

You threw your head back in ecstasy, leaning back onto Momo as Sana finally took off your underwear.

—"Such a pretty fucking pussy, just for us, right?"

You nodded, body barely conscious as they had their way with you, Sana's fingers now knuckle deep inside you.

You whined weakly, the feeling was so good yet you felt so flimsy and tired to even form basic words.

—"Gosh, been fucking eyeing you since you walked into this club. Yknow, this whole fucking thing was rigged, yeah? Just wanted you all nice and intoxicated so we could fuck till you're unconscious."

Momo whispered in your ear, her hands shoved down your dress as she toyed and played with your nipples.

The stimulation was overwhelming, you threw your head back further in search for Momo's alcohol stained lips, your lipstick was smudged and you had hickey marks all over, mascara running slightly on your cheeks.

—"You like this, no? getting used by pretty girls like us, hm?"

Sana interrupted, as you were about to speak up, you were cut off short by Momo's fingers rubbing on your clit, one hand still kneading and groping your breast.

Those loud noises were also cut short though by Momo's slightly large hands covering your mouth, suppressing any noise coming out from you.

—"Be fucking quiet, gosh.. you need it so badly don't you? it's pathetic."

You squeezed Momo's thigh as you felt yourself coming closer to the edge, your inner walls clenching on Sana's curled fingers, they knew you were near.

—"Gonna cum, baby?"

Sana said in a tone laced with a facade of pity, she twisted and curled her fingers even deeper, hitting your G-spot, the feeling backing you arch your back.

—"So pathetic, you naughty fucking girl, i bet it turns you on when i watch you get fucked by my co-worker, hm?"

Momo bit your neck, one hand still on your mouth as the other rubbed your clit even faster.

—"Come on baby, cum for us, you've been so fucking good."

As those words left Momo's mouth, you practically came undone, your juices coating both Momo and Sana's fingers, body falling limp against Momo, she gently held you and rested your weak body on a pillow.

—"Shhh, it's okay.. it's okay."

Momo soothed you into a passed out state, the alcohol in your system being too much.

While you were out, the girls tasted your juiced on their fingers and groaned in unison.

—"Fuck, we might need you to visit more often."

[yeagerprincess]

Sorry for the 3 year Hiatus (｡•́︿•̀｡) Forgive me?

Anyway....

Sanemi Brainrot Time 🩷

SFW:

-He's a completely different man when he's with you. He's constantly holding your hand to guide you around; along the sidewalk, up and down the stairs, uphill, downhill, doesn't matter. Keeping you safe is his number one priority, even if he's only walking you through the hallway. He'd never forgive himself if you so much as slipped on pebble.

-But it took a while for you to get to that point. Each night, you found yourself restless, unable to catch a wink of sleep, and so you'd sneak off to what used to be your secret escape. Just a simple, peaceful meadow that you'd given a few homey touches to: A picnic blanket, a lantern, and a couple of books to take your mind off things. It was your own little slice of heaven, until one night, you found Sanemi sitting among the flowers. He looked a little out of place. So brutish and hardened in contrast to the delicate petals all around him.

-At first, the two of you would ignore each other and simply go about your own separate business. But eventually, you began to greet to one another. Greetings turned to small talk, smal talk to meaningful conversations. After nearly a year of meeting up like this each night, you began to see each other in daylight too.

-The other Hashira would notice how Sanemi didn't bump shoulders with you in the hallway and instead, made an effort to avoid colliding with you. They'd notice how he'd soften his gaze and actually look at you when you passed by, instead of storming in whatever direction he was going. They'd notice how you'd wave to him, and how he'd turn pink at the sight of your gorgeous smile instead of asking you "what your damn problem was." They'd notice how the two of you shared your own inside jokes, how he'd suddenly become calm in your presence, how he'd lower his tone when you entered the room, how you slowly became more and more talkative and friendly as the two of you began to fall deeper and deeper in love. It was so incredibly obvious to everyone, but incredibly sweet at the same time.

-One day, during one of your nightly rendezvous, the two of you were silently gazing up at the stars together when a sudden rush of confidence overtook you. You inched your hand a little closer until your pinkies were touching, then gently intertwined yours with Sanemi's, who remained quiet all the while. Wordlessly, Sanemi shifted his hand underneath yours, and locked his fingers with your smaller ones. The two of you exchanged looks, and nothing more. There was no need. You understood each other perfectly.

-He was stunned each time you kissed him on the cheek. Every look, every smile, every wink, every touch, everything you did was pure sweetness in his eyes. You could do no wrong. He catered to your every wish and desire, no matter how tedious or inconvenient. He'd give you the sky if only you'd ask it of him. Your bedroom was filled to the ceiling with gifts from Sanemi. Flowers, chocolates, new dresses and kimonos, shoes, dolls, plushies, everything you could ever ask for. And yet, you never did. He simply wanted you to have them, and so he'd bring them to you no questions asked, like a bird finding a shiny rock for his mate. It just made sense to him. You deserved anything you wanted.

-Including marriage. And when he finally proposed, he did so in your secret meadow, under the stars. You were so happy, you couldn't even say "yes," only managing to throw yourself into his arms and pepper his face with kiss after kiss.

NSFW:

-Sex was a different story though. He absolutely dominated and manhandled you in the bedroom. Not in a mean way, just that in order to show you how much he loved you, he had to fuck you like he hated you. That makes sense, right?

-His favorite position is absolutely reverse cowgirl. He just loves watching your cheeks bounce on top of him and seeing your thighs jiggle with each slam of your relentless hips. He loved it when you rested your pretty feet on top of his thighs while riding him too. Yeah, he's that kind of guy, sucks toes, eats ass, eats his cum off of you AND out of you. The good stuff.

-He can be VERY kinky, too. He'd indulge in each and every one of your kinks indiscriminately, even if he isn't sure he's into it. He's gotta try it at least once for his pretty wife, doesn't he? You deserve no less.

-Sanemi cannot get enough of your bouncy tits either. He's constantly sucking and biting on them and shoving his dick in between them. He's a sucker for nipple play and loves to tease and torture them until they're so sensitive that you can't wear a bra comfortably. He'll always make sure to kiss them better for you, though, so it's always worth it.

-He's rough when he throatfucks you too. He's the type to teach you how to relax your throat to take him better and give you "practice time" to get better at taking all of his thick dick in your mouth. He likes to shove it in all the way and force you to hold still, just feeling his throbbing dick in your throat and his heavy, cum filled balls on your face.

-He's a eater for sure. He absolutely gets pussy drunk and eats you out for hours unless you physically stop him from the overstimulation. He'll use his body to pin you and hold your thighs apart so he lap at your juicy peach and drink up all your nectar without worrying about your incessant kicking and squirming. He won't stop until he's drank you dry and you're crying for mercy.

-When your legs are in the air, it just does something to him. He LOVES staring down at your fucked out face, seeing your thighs pressed up again your chest, your knees beside your head, and your cute feet in his face. He'll suck and kiss and lick at your ankles while mercilessly bullying his needy cock in and out of your squirting pussy. Maybe he just gets off on being bigger, stronger, and tougher than you, but something about seeing you folded up and immobilized, completely at his mercy makes him want to cum inside you until he can't breathe anymore.

-And he sure is noisy too. You can barely hear yourself moaning with how loud Sanemi is. He's constantly babbling about how sexy and wet you are, how you're so good at milking his aching dick and balls, his needy grunts and groans, the wet sounds of his mouth on your tits and the even lewder and wetter noises his dick makes as he plunges himself into your juicy pussy as if he'll die the moment he stops.

-Dont even get him started with the praise. Sure, he'll call you his good girl, but if you praise him right back, he'll cum on the spot. "That's my good boy" "Your dick feels so fucking good" "I'm gonna cum all over that dick, baby" "You're gonna make me squirt again" "Just like that baby, right there" Oh, he'd just kill anyone who so much as thought about looking at you.

Okay byyyyye Love yall (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡

[jamesandanthony]

Tommy Week Masterlist!

(all bucktommy except day six which is bucktommy plus tommy/omc)

_____________________________

the slightest touch

Day one: masturbation | Words: 3,917 | Rated: E

Established Relationship | Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot | Masturbation | Sexting | Phone Sex | Dom/sub Undertones | Praise Kink

Home, he texts Evan as he heads for the kitchen and the leftover lasagne in the fridge. Miss you. After eating and showering, Tommy collapses into bed, bone weary and feeling a little sorry for himself without his boyfriend's bare chest to snuggle into. Almost as if Evan is listening to his thoughts, Tommy's phone dings with a message and he opens it to see a photo of him, shirtless and smirking into the mirror of the bathroom at the 118. Miss you too.

_____________________________

with or without you

Day two: acceptance | Words: 3,407 | Rated: G

POV Tommy Kinard | Post-Episode: s08e06 Confessions | Light Angst | Making Up

It's not the first time since they'd broken up that Tommy has driven to Evan's - Buck's - place after work instead of his own. This is, however, the first time he's halfway out of the car before he's realised where he is, and he turns back to his truck in a mild panic, hoping, praying, that he doesn't see anyone he knows before he can escape his stupid mistake. Apparently the universe has other ideas. "Tommy?"

_____________________________

more than fine

Day three: supernatural creatures | Words: 1,701 | Rated: G

POV Tommy Kinard | Established Relationship | Fluff and Humor | Tommy is a movie guy | and Buck definitely isn't

"So, what did you think?" Tommy asks, holding the door open for Evan as they leave the movie theater. "And you can be honest." He slides his hand into Evan's as they start along the sidewalk back to the loft, strolling leisurely as the sun sets across the city. "Can I, though?" Evan teases, bumping Tommy's shoulder with his own. "You're not going to dump me if I don't like another one of your favourite movies?"

_____________________________

heavy on me

Day four: dom/sub dynamics | Words: 4,128 | Rated: E

POV Tommy Kinard | Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot | Bottom Tommy Kinard | Dom/sub Undertones | Mild Praise Kink | Anal Fingering | Anal Sex | Evan gets his reward...

Once the dishes are put away, Evan turns to him, clearly trying not to be too pushy but with a hopeful look on his face nonetheless. Tommy steps into his space with a smirk, sliding his hands around his waist and pulling him close as he leans in to whisper in his ear. "Where do you want me, baby?" he breathes, feeling the shiver that his words send down Evan's spine.

_____________________________

long time coming

Day five: anxiety/PTSD | Words: 1,949 | Rated: G

POV Tommy Kinard | Past Child Abuse | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | With a fluffy ending

Your father's dead. His aunt's voice echoes in his head, churning up all sorts of feelings he doesn't know what to do with, and he sits, staring blankly at the phone in his hand. Wrapped his car around a streetlamp. Three sheets to the wind as always. "Hey babe," Evan calls from down the hall, voice becoming louder as he walks towards their bedroom, "did you say you're off next Thursday night-" Tommy feels more than sees his frown as he pushes the door open, pausing in the doorway as he catches sight of him. "Tommy?"

_____________________________

old flames, new fires

Day six: flashbacks/Tommy begins | Words: 3,127 | Rated: G

POV Tommy Kinard | Past Relationship | Soft Tommy Kinard | Flashbacks | Tommy bumps into an ex at trivia night...

The picture round arrives with the interval, and they're hunched around the sheet, arguing over a country outline that has them a little stumped when a figure approaches their table hesitantly. "Tom?" he says, and Tommy looks up in surprise. "Oh my god, Mateo?" he says, eyes wide as he stands to greet him. "Yeah," Mateo replies, grinning, and Tommy doesn't miss the way he looks him up and down appreciatively. "Man, how long has it been?"

_____________________________

sweet surprise

Day seven: unexpected events | Words: 3,151 | Rated: E

POV Tommy Kinard | Established Relationship | Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard | Fluff | Mild misunderstandings | Tommy Kinard is loved

"Thanks," Evan says, tipping the driver as Tommy climbs out of the car, looking around in confusion. "I thought we were going to Miceli's?" he asks, turning to Evan with a raised eyebrow. "Change of plan," Evan replies, snaking his hand into Tommy's and leading him inside the rowdy looking bar they've been dropped at, clearly trying to hide a smile.

[altcvnningham]

of a demon in my view

william “case” calderon x f!reader

summary: when the team return to the rook after visiting the science facility in kentucky you hear a bump in the night. good thing case is back to protect you, right? (takes place after the 'emergence' mission. inspired by this post. please heed the tags!!) read on ao3

tags/cw: nsfw, dubious consent, f!reader, angst, (case is) under the influence (of the cradle), rough sex, size difference/kink, biting, choking, case is hung, animalistic/primal behaviour?? i guess?? reader is confused but loves case too much, case is obsessed w reader, aftercare (ish), author goes mad with power at the use of italics wc: 4.8k

a/n: umm sorry to case + the case enjoyers, i wish i’d written something softer for him first... trust that my first full nsfw fic on here would be icky nasty dubcon w poor confused reader. promise she likes it. since there’s not a whole lot of case content to base his characterisation on, i hope this suffices!! shoutout to lovely lacie @dearlydevoured, case's actual irl gf who put up w my brainrot while i wrote this <3 title from “alone”, edgar allan poe.

You wake gasping.

The bedroom is pitch black, offering little but a sliver of moonlight to orient yourself, cutting the room split in two as you try to discern what the hell that sound was. A slam, booming like thunder and carried in with the draft and the dust. It takes much to hear it across the old house, the Rook as big as it is barren, and it takes much more again to wake you. But whatever it is, it had, and your body jolts in its instinct to get up and investigate.

But as you do, you stop. You’re half a leg out of bed and a finger upon the nearby flashlight when you catch something in your periphery. You don’t even look at it head on- the figure in the open door. Just stare ahead at the wall and freeze, trying to clock if whatever stands there has spotted you sooner than you’d spotted it.

Any other night, Case would have awoken before you. Hell, he would have dealt with the problem himself before you’d even stirred. But the space in the bed where he usually sleeps is cold, and it had been all night- they’d left for Kentucky a couple days ago now, and you hadn’t received much word in between. Only a call from Marshall on the way back, to keep an eye on Case when he returns. That he wasn’t quite right.

But you know Case better than anyone. You know he already isn’t really quite right as he is; you never minded it, the odd pauses between words and the bitten tongue, like he’s always holding something back, or the distant way he sometimes seems to regard you from across a room, before the colour floods back to his face and he finds the courage to smile. Whatever warmth you possess encourages a similar feeling in himself, and Case had found himself sweet on you quicker than he would most. He sees in you a kindred spirit, maybe. A missing piece. Enough that when he sleeps next to you, the screaming stops. Most nights.

But whatever it is in the door, you’re almost sure it isn’t Case. Almost. Until—

Breathing. Quick, shallow, raspy. For a second it doesn’t even sound human, until you recognise it- the same sound when he wakes from a nightmare, the same panting in your ear when you hold him tight and let him ride it out. The fear, primal, pacified by your patience and care. Your heart tugs- it’s him. You know it’s him.

With that knowledge alone enough to brave your panic, you turn your head to the open door, and regard the figure stood in it with an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh, god, Case. It’s you. Jesus,” you huff, a hand clutched to your chest. “Scared the shit out of me.”

A smile, sheepish, spreads over your lips as he just stands there in the doorway, filling it with his shadow. Tall, stocky, broad-shouldered as he is, arms held stiffly at his sides as he just stands there, shapeless face cast in darkness. His hulking figure eclipsing the moonlight trying to come in from the hallway windows. You can’t see his expression, only the whites of his eyes, and though it’s hard to tell at first, they look to be open wide. And staring at you.

Your smile slowly drops. You sit up.

“Case? What’s wrong?”

But he doesn’t talk. Doesn’t say anything. Just- fucking- just stands there- just you and him, locked eyes, for a fleeting moment feeling like prey and predator at a stand-off in a too-open clearing. Vulnerable, is the feeling that creeps up your spine and staples you there, still and rigid in the bed.

There’s a pause. He blinks. You think he snaps out of whatever daze he’s in, because he comes into the room and kicks the door shut with his heel, but where he’d usually sigh, sit on the bed, and undress, he just moves straight towards you. Unhurried, but urgent. Single-minded in his pursuit.

Case’s knee dips into the mattress, sinking under his weight, and though you aren’t scared you feel the urge to move back into the bed, hitting the headboard in your scuffle.

“Case, you’re still dressed,” you worry, voice lilted like a question. He must suddenly notice, or perhaps hear your concern, because he glances down at himself, though decidedly mustn’t care at all- even as you go for the zipper of his windbreaker yourself, he’s wholly intent instead on closing in on you. Scarred hands curl around the headboard as he leans in to kiss you- no, to- smell you? He noses your hair, behind your ear, licking a greedy stripe up the side of your neck. You do your best to ignore it, focusing your quivering fingers upon the zipper, and somehow you manage to push the jacket off him and onto the floor. His hands are immediately on you then, dug into the back of your hair and cradling your skull as he kisses sharply along your jaw, your cheek, the corners of your babbling mouth.

“H-hey, um,” is all you can manage as you’re jostled by his movements. He isn’t rough, isn’t even hurting you, but his fingers dig into your arms and pull at your hair in a way that’s unfamiliar, uncharacteristically desperate, like you’ll slip into dust any second. It’s enough to make you wince. “Case- Case, c’mon. Talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, we can—”

“Want you.” Is all he says.

“What?”

“Want you,” he repeats, an animal grunt in an octave you’ve never heard before. It thrills you as much as it frightens you, but you steel your focus, more concerned than you are anything else. That excitement that tingles at the base of your spine is unimportant, insignificant in the grand scheme, when he’s acting so strange.

“Case, I think you should sit down a sec,” you say, trying gently to pry his hands off you, but he won’t budge. He’s stronger than you- much stronger- and before you can open your mouth to protest his hands are on your waist, pulling you out of the bed and stringing you out atop the blanket like you weigh nothing. “Wh- oh!”

You land with a hiccup, disoriented as he climbs on top of you, and in your befuddled state you’re half worried about shoes on the bed as he wedges a leg between yours, coarse grey cargo pants chafing your sleep-soft thighs. A tiny yip makes its way out of you as you bear the sudden weight of him- as is always so stifling, yet now seems suffocating- a thick scarred forearm braced in the pillow beside your head as he buries his nose in your neck, not quite kissing but breathing you in, huffing like a dog, something primal, savage.

It’s so unfamiliar, and yet so like Case; never having seen him this way but always sensed, known, that there lingered in him something like this, some growling thing seated deep inside just waiting to get out, biding its time and snarling. It frightens you, but not enough to fight it off. Just enough to lay there and let whatever thing that’s reared its ugly head in him feel you out, get its bearings of the girl trembling beneath him.

You catch a scent on his shirt then, tart as it wrinkles your nose. It’s a strange smell, acrid, not entirely unpleasant but foreign to you- like chemicals or detergent, coppery like blood but lacking its warmth. It clings to Case’s clothes like something parasitic. You breathe it in, and strangely it has a texture, almost like smoke, but whatever it is your body rejects it, tangled in a cough as your vision blurs. It’s enough then to just let him close over you as he likes, pressing your face to his hair instead as he mouths at your neck, starved.

You’re burned by the heat of him. Heavy as he envelopes himself around you, greedy hands moving down your body to touch and grab and grope, undecided whether he wants to be gentle, whether he can be, calloused hands like sandpaper as he slides them under your shirt. Your own hands try to turn his jaw so you might see his face and deduce the expression into an answer, a reasoning for his behaviour. But every touch you give has him shuddering beneath you, near enough purring as he careens his cheek into your hand, lapping up your warmth.

Case feels like he’s on fire. Tunnel-visioned. Drunk, almost. He’d cooled off whatever substance he’d breathed in that facility on the flight back to Bulgaria, but part of it still sticks to him like sap, simmering and seething all red and angry in a place inside he can’t reach. He’d claw it out of himself if he could, if he had the guts, but he swears he could smell you from the fucking front door- and by then it was over, decided for him before he even knew what he was doing. Something else took hold then, brutish and hungry, overcome with the base animal need to stalk, hunt, fuck.

His hands run down your body, kissing wetly into your open palm. You whimper frantic and confused as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down your legs, falling frail as petals somewhere off the bed. You gasp as he pushes himself forward, hips bullying your legs apart, while he peels back your shirt to knead your breasts and latch his mouth upon a perked nipple with a moan.

“Hey, slow- slow down,” you rasp, barely a whisper, dying on an open-mouthed sigh as a spike of pleasure needles you. You can’t help it. It’s him, Case, always so soft with you, so slow and gentle, now pawing at you like he’d sooner die than go without touching you. Your hands knot into his hair as he sucks at your nipple, tangled at the base of his neck, unsure whether you’re trying to push him off or pull him closer. “I think we should- just- calm down and—“

“No,” Case says, a low noise, almost strangled as he unlatches himself from you, shaking his head. He sounds pained, sick, emitting a whine as he unfolds himself, hands wrestling with his belt. In your sudden shyness, feeling all too exposed, you pull your shirt down and make a move to close your legs, but Case’s hand nudges your knee, as thoughtless as if he were swatting a fly as he pries them back open.

“Gotta have you now, baby, I-I gotta,” he mumbles, repeating it under his breath over and over like a mantra. Is it for you to hear? Is it for himself? You don’t know. But even as you try and move his hand away it’s a hopeless thing. He’s firm, resolute. Won’t so much as let you budge. He slides his belt off with one hand, shoving his cargo pants and boxers down his hips, and stamps your arm back at the side of your head with the other, wrenched tight around your wrist.

“O-ow, careful, Case—”

Your words are cut short by a jarring thud. His cock thumps thick and heavy against your tummy, and wide-eyed, you freeze. Oh. Case tugs around the base to give it some hopeless attention, something, anything to take the edge off. The shock of it all pulls out a breathless whine from you. He’s never usually so forward. He rocks himself slow against you, moving his hips down, nudging your clit with the leaking head of his aching dick. It’s- it’s so much that you don’t know whether to stop him or just surrender, craning your neck down to try and catch a glimpse of- of—

Fuck, you forget how big it is. Every time. It always looks so much more intimidating than it feels, but that’s because Case has always been careful with you, patient, always working you up on his fingers first before even attempting to split you open on him, even then only feeding you inch by tentative inch until he’s seated nice and deep inside you. Eager, but takes his time with you, never in any rush to give his sweet girl what she needs.

But you have the feeling that this time is different. Not- not bad, but- different. His hands are hard on you, bruising, kisses impatient and starving, even the way he’s slowly fucking his tip against your clit, hazy-eyed and mindless as he watches himself slide the length of his shaft between your folds, so pink and sweet- it’s maddening. It’s only then that you realise you’re moaning, bleating like cornered prey.

As if suddenly reminded of the fact he ought to prep you, he shoves two fingers unceremoniously into his mouth, sucking them wet before pulling them out with a pop and delving his hand between your legs. It’s done so fast you flinch, a panicked sound pulled out of you. His usual patience is swapped with hurried desperation, a flit of his eyes to yours- your lips, your face, God, the prettiest thing he’s seen in his life- measuring your reaction. Your shock and confusion must be evident in your wilted expression, because he moves his fingers just a little slower, watching with enamoured reverence as your face flushes hot, savouring the way he can see the thoughts just spill out of your head like honey as it empties itself for him. So, so pretty.

“U-um—” you stammer, as dumb as the day you were born. You want to say something, want him to say something, but your mind goes blank. Whatever good sense might linger is gone- there’s only Case, much too broad and much too big in your bed as he looms over you. He slides his fingers against your clit, tender with need; he thumbs at your slick entrance, soaking his knuckle as he teases against it, and moans at how reflexively it clenches around him, begging to be filled. How badly it wants him. He barely humours your poor, needy pussy as he slides his middle finger inside, thick as it stretches you, just about managing the first knuckle before you keen, body bowing into him.

“G-God, Case, please—”

Sobriety spurs vaguely into him then, the light coming back into his eyes as he blinks down at you, strewn like a blushing favour over the pillow. His perfect girl, his. As he looks at you, he slides his finger out of you slowly, relishing with a faraway look on his face the way you crumple and cry, grasping at his wrist to try and pull him back in again. He thinks he’d go mad for it. For you, he thinks he’d die.

“S’okay,” he grumbles under his breath, a click of his tongue as he tuts at you like one might a skittish animal. He pulls back, lining his cock up with your soaked entrance, his pupils blown black, drunk. “I’m gonna make it better. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise.”

He has to make it better. Has to. Has to apologise for what he’s doing, how he’s acting- he has to apologise for what he is, the thing growling inside him, tearing, clawing, screaming to get out—

He’s still sucking the syrup of you off his fingers as he pushes himself inside you, eyes rolling into the back of his head with a loud, broken groan. He’s so lost to the white haze of bliss for a second as your slick heat all but swallows him in, pushing only a little resistance at the sudden intrusion and God, he knows you’re not used to it so quick, so soon, but you’re his good girl, his baby, and he knows you can take it.

And you’re not quite used to the stretch even on a good day- feeling it rip into you now is near agony. Your mouth opens wide but not a sound comes out. Useless anyway, given Case bends down and closes his own around it, tongue delving hot inside to seek yours. It’s so fast and so much that you barely find time to adjust, just letting your mouth loll open and surrender itself to him as he tongues you, trying so hard to focus on accommodating to his cock pushing- forcing- its way into you, too much, too much, too big—

The hand around your wrist loosens as though some pliant drug has washed cold over him, and you open your eyes for just a second, enough to catch the way his dilate, black melting into the white before he sinks himself all the way inside you. Filling you to the hilt, suffocating. Bliss is written into every line of his face, softening as he lets out a whine. He bottoms out, and you see it in him- complete and utter relief. Some awful agony in him quelled immediately, his body slack against yours. He feels, in you, complete. Home.

It’s evident enough that it puts you at ease, whatever it is that’s compelled him like this. He’s not trying to hurt you. You don’t think. He’s just rather like a big dog that believes itself to be no larger than a puppy, unaware of its own weight and strength. Case’s body goes almost flat atop yours and the only way he notices at all is how it pushes a wheeze out of you, a silent beg for release.

But just then you feel his hips pulling back, cock sliding out of you inch by agonising inch. A whimpering plea is all you’re given to let out before he slams back into you again and fuck, it’s too much, he’s too big, you’re not used to—

“F-fuck, Case, wait—”

Your legs tremor involuntarily as they part further to let him closer, let him in, his hips welded to yours as he buries himself right to the fucking root of you. Case groans, delirious as his face falls against your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Case- s’too much, you’re—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, an attempt at comfort that leaves you dizzier than it does much else. He licks a wet kiss to your neck, meant to calm you, but only riles himself up more, setting off a dormant bloodthirst in him; he does it again, and this time he- he bites you.

You squeal. “O-ow!”

Like an apology he can’t voice he laps his tongue flat against your skin, mulling hungrily over the bitten flesh like he’s savouring it. It’s only when he’s sated himself on you that his hips start moving, slow, languid thrusts that quicken each time you yelp, hurried pace picking up once he feels you clench reflexively around him.

And he’s usually so gentle when he fucks you, almost hesitant, always like he’s half afraid of breaking you. Not like this. He fucks into you mindlessly, a rabid thing with a single razor sharp splinter of desire- you. Wants you. Has to have you, has to split you open and- take you. Fuck you so there’s nothing left in him to think of or breathe in but you. Every thrust is merciless and messy, Case pounding into you again and again as the sound of him fucking into your wet cunt smacks luridly in the air; loud enough that it makes you wince, cringing to hear yourself so shamelessly, how your body makes itself so slick and malleable just for him. His hips slam into you faster than you can take it- but you can take it, you can, he insists, demands it, grunting it into your ear, baby, please, jus’ take it for me, take it take it take it—

Your orgasm slams into you, a violent punch that singes you hot-white and blind; your thighs clench around his hips of their own accord and pull him in even deeper- as if there’s any more room- unbidden as you cry out, wailing helplessly as he just- keeps- fucking you. Wave after wave of pleasure drowning you over and over and over. It almost terrifies you, how willingly gone your body leaves itself, all sense and reason fleeing you all to make room for this- him.

You babble incomprehensibly as you ride it out, words lost in your throes of euphoria, smothered completely beneath the sweet and tender violence of him, your ravaged cunt milking and just taking him in its refusal to let go.

You don’t know if you’re crying- it all feels so good you can barely make sense of where you are- but through the red haze of it all you feel Case’s hand cup your cheek, caress your face, mumbling choked apologies into your shoulder as he keeps impaling you on his cock, chasing his pleasure into you. It’s the sweetest thing, his voice very almost pathetic, incongruous to the way the rest of him seems dead-set on pummelling you into the mattress as he garbles a knotted string of I’m sorry, baby, can’t help it, s’too good, I’m sorry—

As if you’d even care if he wasn’t. As if you wouldn’t let him break you and cradle the pieces in his mottled hands. As if you wouldn’t let him carve out a home inside of you, broken and bloodied, and nestle himself within. Where no one can hurt him ever again, where nobody could ever find him. Nobody but you.

You’d promise him that much, you think- the times when he wakes up screaming in the night, when he sits up in bed and stares empty at the wall, when mid-conversation he’s just suddenly stunned into white-noise silence, the Case you know, the Case that’s yours, absent for but a moment. Replaced by something else entirely, something you’re not quite sure you recognise. You take him then, like you take him now, your body so dumb and fragile in his big arms as he fucks you hard, cock punching into you so bad you go dizzy.

And isn’t this much like that? Don’t you love him even now, as he is? While he violently breaks you?

“C-Case,” you choke, his chest pressed so tightly to yours you can hardly breathe. His hand snakes up your neck, closing around your throat with a satisfied moan, stars dotted in your view. You feel something cresting again, down your legs, up your spine, the back of your neck— “Oh, god, Case, please, I’m gonna—”

But you don’t know what you’re gonna. It hits you before you can even find out. You come again, you think, some viciously delectable feeling severing you and flinging your body straight up off the mattress, holding him to you, begging him closer, as though he could be any more than he already was. Flesh melting into flesh, sweat sticky and waxen, indistinguishable from his. Inseparable. As you cry out again, he groans, thick and low and not quite human, spilling himself so deep inside you that you feel it pooling hot in your gut, molten sweet; your own climax is slow, tender agony, gorging you open, rippling warm and pink behind closed eyes like the thin warbling of blood in water… and then… and then…

It’s a short moment later, or maybe a few, when the black spots in your vision clear.

You’re staring up at the ceiling, cracked white, a picture much like Case’s eyes had been in the doorway, veins struck blood lightning across marble sclera. He’s there too, you can hear him, his voice a distant echo as you feel large hands cup your face, your whole world oscillating.

It’s bliss. It’s perfect. You lie there, barely coming to, your body sinking into the mattress as though you weren’t even there, floating, feeling so, so nice.

When the shadow pulls over your vision, you smile. Case holds himself over you, his thumb peeling back your eyelid, letting out a choked sound of relief when your eyes, lucid, finally fix on him.

“Oh- oh, thank god- oh- baby, I’m so—”

He scoops you up like a ragdoll in his arms, clutching you so tight to his chest that you can feel the erratic thrumming of his heart, quick as a rabbit’s to the slow drum of yours. A series of strangled noises leave him as he buries his face into your shoulder, wet, whether from kisses or crying, you don’t know- but you know that you love him, and he’s yours. It’s the only thing on your emptied mind as your face burrows against him, breathing him in. That strange chemical smell is long gone now, enveloping you back into the warm embrace of pine and petrichor, the smell of home. Of him. It’s all you can think of, the only thing you can form into words, when you mumble, exhausted, into his chest.

“‘Love you, Case.”

And he must hear it, because his heartbeat slows then, decelerating a steady hum to match your own. His death grip on you loosens, his body going slack as he falls into you. Whatever noise that screams endless in his mind seems to cease, because through it all he hears you, hushing and cooing at him as you pull your fingers softly up his arm, pulling him slowly, slowly, down into bed. You stay still as he sifts frantic hands over you, smoothing you over like he’s trying to keep the shape of you, checking you like he would for bruises. You know this is his way of taking care of you, of fixing you, of making everything right and keeping his precious baby together with all her pieces intact; he kisses you slow but trembling, lips finding every swath of skin he knows he’s bitten, pinched, groped too hard.

“Didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, quiet and worriedly into your hair. He kisses, again and again. “Didn’t mean to be so rough. Didn’t mean—”

“I know,” you whisper, “it’s okay. I’m okay. Look- feel.”

You find his hand in the dark, pulling it around yourself to press it against your chest, your heart beating heavy against his palm. You keep it there, proof of your wellness, showing him you’re unharmed. Where it matters, anyway. You’re so strung out from your orgasm that all you can do, want to do, is just lie there and hold him, body limp and satisfied in spite of it all.

It’s just that, then, quiet, the soft sounds of his breathing slowing in time to yours, a conscious effort to calm himself, to prove to you that he can be, that he isn’t that thing that lingered in the doorway glowering at you- to prove to himself that he isn’t a monster.

He tells you again that he’s sorry, but you just tut your forgiveness and shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. And he tries to tell you why, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out. Just the voice in the back of his head again, the knife kept lodged in his throat all this time. We don’t talk about that. His vision warps, chromatic as he blinks away pictures of the lab, the lights, the Cradle. We can’t talk about that.

Case just sighs then, settling into your arms and cocooning himself around you like he’s not the very thing he’s trying to protect you from. He thinks he tells you he loves you too- that, at least, he knows is his- but he isn’t sure if you hear, fallen asleep before you can utter a response.

He just looks at you, and he’s completely besotted. Utterly and madly. He kisses you sweet and gentle, stamping his one last apology as soft fingers thread through your hair. He’ll fix it, he vows, for you, for you. Then he slides in next to you, curling his arms around your tummy to pull you in close, swearing until he falls asleep to make good on that promise. Then, as sleep slowly takes him, there are no more bumps in the night.

[jolpt]

hi!! i had a couple of ideas for melissa bots if you're still taking those. one is reader reaching out to melissa for comfort after a long day at work, and the other is smoking with melissa for the first time. i hope you're doing well!!

Thank you so much for the requests! I've sat at my laptop more times than I can count in the last 2 weeks and there isn't a single word to show for it because my brain is a barren wasteland for ideas, so much appreciated. These were great to write, but let me know if you have any feedback or want any changes!

1.) Comfort for a long day:

Summary: It's been a long day, maybe Melissa can help.  

Melissa Schemmenti - ✧˖° Long days

Greeting: Maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, but there was an unexplainable weariness in your bones that seemed to weigh you down, only increasing with time. It’s the third Tuesday of the month, so you’re stuck in the library for a staff meeting. Usually, you would’ve taken a seat next to Melissa, preferring to be close to her, but there was just something about today that made everything feel too much. Your main priority was getting this meeting over with and heading home. Taking a seat at the table closest to the exit, you zone out, missing the confused look she sends your way when she notices you sitting at the back of the room.

It’s around 5 when the staff is dismissed. You’re packing up your things in your classroom when you catch a glimpse of red out of the corner of your eye. You look up to see Melissa leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. You look back down at your bag, continuing to shove your notebook in as you speak up.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She replies, walking further into your room. Her eyes flicker from your bag to your face, eyeing it closely. “You left quick. Didn’t even notice ya.” Her tone is light, at least that’s how it seems. But there’s something off, and she can’t quite figure out what it is yet, so she proceeds with caution.

“Yeah.” You don’t give her much of a response, still not looking at her. She curses inwardly as the silence hangs in the air. She sighs before speaking again.

“Are you okay?”

The softness in her voice cuts through the fog in your brain. Finally meeting her eyes, you see the concern pooling in her irises. Your shoulders sag, and you let out a tired sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… long day.” You murmur, fighting back the lump in your throat. Your vision goes blurry for a moment, but you quickly blink it away.

Melissa doesn’t miss the tears, and she’s by your side in an instant. You don’t fight it when she pulls you into a hug, holding on tightly as you hide your face against her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s alright.”

END

2.) First time smoking with Melissa:

Summary: Your first time smoking with Melissa. 

Melissa Schemmenti - ✧˖° Smoking

Greeting: You and a few other Abbott Elementary staff were out at a bar, winding down and celebrating the upcoming weekend. You’d been there for a couple of hours when the crowd started to reach its peak. Feeling the need for a break, you stepped outside for some fresh air, pulling a cigarette from your pack and placing it between your lips. As you patted your pockets, you let out a frustrated groan—your lighter was still in your car. With a sigh, you turned to head back inside to grab your keys. Just as you rounded the corner, you bumped into someone.

“Fu—sorry. Melissa? Hey. What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing.” Her tone came out slightly defensive, and you couldn’t quite pin down why. “What’re you doing? Didn’t you just leave? Why’re you coming back?” 

A small smile of amusement played on your lips at her rapid questions.

“Forgot my lighter,” you said, pointing to the cigarette between your lips.

“Oh.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you leaving already?”

“No.”

“Then...?”

“None of your business.”

That made you let out a small laugh.

“Alright then. You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter on you, would you?”

She mimicked the same patting motion you’d done a few moments ago before pulling out a red lighter and holding up the flame in front of your face.

“Melissa Schemmenti, you are my saviour,” you said, leaning in to light your cigarette.

She rolled her eyes as she pocketed the lighter. You blew the smoke away from her before offering her the cigarette. She eyed it for a moment before accepting it.

You kept your eyes on her face as her lips wrapped around the cigarette. You’d never seen Melissa smoke before, but the practiced ease with which she inhaled and exhaled the smoke told you it was a common enough occurrence for her.

She noticed you staring, and heat rose to your face at being caught. You coughed slightly, tearing your eyes away from her. She smirked around the cigarette.

“See something you like?” she teased.

END

As always, feel free to leave any feed back or requests.

[lh44girl]

“Dreaming Together”

The late afternoon sun poured through the windows, casting a golden glow over the living room. Roscoe was in full play mode, darting between you and Lewis as you both sat cross-legged on the floor, tossing his favorite toy back and forth. Lewis had invited you for a Sunday roast dinner among family & friends at his house in LA after the chaotic burst of Las Vegas GP. A get together with close friends & family. You both have known each other (friendly encounter) for almost 4-5month ago ( but who is counting ) Lewis felt from the first time meeting you, that you’re family(as if he knew you in a past life) ,someone special ,worm & kind like the warmth of the sun during a winter afternoon & a breeze of fresh air during a summer day .

“Come on, Roscoe, I thought you were faster than this!” you teased, crawling on all fours to grab the toy before Roscoe could.You always had a soft spot for pets (dogs) & kids,even though you had none of both of your own.The bulldog gave an excited bark, beating you to it with a triumphant wiggle of his little tail.

Lewis laughed, leaning back on his hands. “You’re really out here losing to a dog, huh? Shameful.”

You shot him a playful glare. “I’m going easy on him! Don’t make me take you on next.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Lewis grinned, inching closer as if preparing to wrestle. Roscoe, not to be left out, plopped himself directly between you, earning another round of laughter.

Eventually, the playful energy faded, replaced by a warm, quiet contentment. Roscoe flopped onto his back with a happy groan, demanding belly rubs, and you both obliged, your hands bumping together as you showered him with attention.

“Alright, mate, you win,” Lewis murmured, lying down beside Roscoe and letting his head rest on the floor. He looked over at you, his smile soft now, his eyes catching the sunlight. “I think he’s officially tired us out.”

You lay down too, propping your head on your arm as you looked at him. “Speak for yourself. I could go another round.”

Lewis chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Sure you could,” he teased, his hand lazily reaching out to tap your arm before resting near Roscoe’s belly.

Roscoe shifted, nestling himself snugly between you, his warm body a comforting weight. Even though the house was full of people roaming around but in that area between kitchen & living area it was quiet ,the afternoon slipping into stillness. As your eyes grew heavy, you inched a little closer to Roscoe—and by extension, to Lewis.

It felt natural, the way your head found its place near his chest and how his arm instinctively draped over your waist. His fingers brushed against your back, a soft, absentminded gesture that sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the sunlight.

Before long, both of you had drifted off, tangled in each other and the warmth of the moment. Roscoe snored softly between you, his presence grounding the tenderness of the scene.

When Lewis’ mum came in later from the outdoor terrace into the kitchen , she stopped in her tracks. There you were, curled up on the floor with Lewis, your legs intertwined and your head resting against his chest. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, his face relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in years. Roscoe lay nestled between you, snoring blissfully.

She smiled, quietly pulling out her phone to snap a picture. Miles, peeking over her shoulder, come inside ,grinned. “This is one for the memory books,” he whispered.she nodded & smiled .

When you stirred awake a little later, you felt the steady rise and fall of Lewis’ chest beneath your cheek. His arm tightened slightly, as if even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go. You blinked up at him, your heart fluttering at how peaceful he looked, and for a moment, you just stayed there, soaking in the warmth and closeness.

It was simple, unexpected, but it was perfect. In that quiet moment, for the first time since you met him , something unspoken settled between you—soft, natural, and undeniably real.

[momotonescreaming]

Bucktommy library date when

[miniimight]

3AM sukuna underestimated just how much sleep he'd lose after having a kid (dad!sukuna x fem!reader)

the soft pitter patter of your baby's feet was enough to alert his senses. he didn't move—didn't even open his eyes—but his ears were tuned to the sound of your daughter's heavy breathing and the occasional babble.

he could hear her fiddle with the drawer handles, a soft rumble causing her to hum as she pulled the drawer out. a thud meant she bumped into it as she drew closer, messing around with the paper and cords inside.

he peeked one eye open. you were fast asleep beside him, and he was inclined to keep it that way. he didn't like to see his woman exhausted and seconds away from falling flat on her face because his little girl was, apparently, nocturnal.

"mama." she huffed as she finally turned her attention to the bed, fussing as she attempted to climb up.

he sighed. that was his cue.

he groaned as he rolled over, peering over your resting body at his daughter. she paused for a second, staring up at him with those shiny eyes that reminded him so much of you.

he raised an eyebrow.

she ignored his judgement and bounced in place, stretching her arms out to be picked up. "mama."

"mama's sleeping." he grumbled.

oh. oh, no. she didn't like that. she pouted, eyebrows furrowing in what seemed to be anger. her fingers curled into tiny fists and sukuna's lips twitched upwards in amusement. how adorable.

"mama." she said more adamantly.

he glared right back. "if you're coming back up here, you're gonna go to sleep."

whether she understood or not, she kept fussing to be picked up. he rolled his eyes and scooped her into his arms, rolling onto his back. baby was on his chest, leaning up so that she was sitting upright.

sukuna held onto her back, in case she toppled over and fell over like the bobblehead she was. "lie down."

"no." she chirped, looking out the window at the moon against the midnight blue.

"sleep."

"no."

he scrunched up his face. his life was much easier before she learned that word.

growing bored of the night sky, your baby rolled off sukuna's chest, scooting her way through the mess of sheets over to you. she glanced back at him as if to see if he was watching.

he gave her a look, observing her carefully. "don't you wake her up," he warned, propping his head up by his elbow.

her round eyes showed no trace of acknowledgment before she turned back to face you. there was a pause before her hand lifted in the air.

"okay." he sighed, catching the tiny hand in his before she slapped you awake. "come on."

she whined, writhing in his grip as he pulled her off the bed by the leg, dangling her in front of his face. "you really are little menace, aren't you?" he scoffed, flipping her over and holding her just like you taught him to.

she just babbled as her finger pulled at her mouth, the other hand resting on his shoulder.

he dragged his feet out the bedroom, into the kitchen. "what is it that you want, hm?" he rifled through the cupboards and pantry tiredly. "want a cookie?"

she squealed happily and pat his shoulder, a good enough answer for him to pull the package out. he dropped onto the couch, handing her one.

she nibbled on it, the chocolate staining her hands and mouth. he watched her fondly. to think he'd have a child of his own still confused him to this day. for all his wrongs, he must have done something right.

"wan' one?" she slurred, holding up the half-spit cookie to him.

"...no." he said plainly, though he did pick up a new cookie and took a bite out of it. might as well, he thought.

his eyes drooped until he felt his cookie being snatched out of his hand, replaced by the spitty cookie with most of its icing dug off.

"daddy take that one." she giggled, feasting upon her new cookie.

sukuna... what could he do? he ate that thing.

when you woke up the morning after, you just shook your head at the sight—your daughter resting on your husband's chest, cookie crumbs and chocolate smears all over the both of them. fast asleep. sugar coma.

you saved that picture for later <3

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[cursingtoji]

cw: office au, nanami x loser!reader, semi public, oral, praising, slight emotional dependency? geto version gojo version

nanami is so in love with the little office loser. he doesn’t give you much attention when you first arrive, just another presence in the office. then he starts to, unwillingly, listen to the conversation of others about giving the new clumsy girl a little rough time.

nanami watches from the corner of his eye as you quietly accepts your boss’ request to work overtime, he frowns as your boss implies under many corporate jargons that it’ll be unpaid and you should do it for the team.

“so naive” he murmurs watching you smile.

he can’t help but become infatuated with you when watching your skirt raising when you try to reach a tall shelf in the communal kitchen.

“here” he catches the coffee beans bag for you, without even needing to extend his arm much. nanami arrives so quietly that his voice scares you and you take a step back bumping into his strong body behind you and leaving a tiny squeal out, “sorry, are you okay?” he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“y-yes, thank you” he gives you space and you turn around looking at him over the thick frame of your glasses. it reminds nanami of those ads where a gorgeous woman has a pair of glasses down her nose and the caption says something like ‘single hotties in your area’. he then understands the appeal.

he keeps himself busy most days, so one day as soon as he sends an email he relaxes on his desk rolling his shoulders and looking around just in time to watch you knock a box of staples off your table. he raises from his seat to go help you but he gets a call at the same time so he sits back down to answer it while keeping his eyes on you.

you kneel picking the small items one by one. he likes seeing you on your knees. then you push your chair and crawl under the desk, trying to reach a few staples that went under the cabinet, at this point you’re with your head down on the carpeted floor and your ass up, nanami watches it with lusty eyes, just agreeing and humming to whatever the person on the phone is saying while wondering if you remember you are wearing a skirt. he watches in awe the black semi transparent pantyhose you have on stretch at the back of your thighs and the panties peeking out from underneath it.

when you get up your hair is messy and your face is flushed, you don’t think most of it, just glad to have caught every little staple. meanwhile nanami pulls his chair closer to his desk so you don’t see the volume in his pants when you pass by after basically flashing him.

nanami knows he wouldn’t last long with you around. one night he also stays overtime and you, being the extreme people pleaser you are, bring him some coffee and different sugar packets since you don’t know how he takes his coffee, but even with this simple self-assigned task you still manage to screw up and spill some on his pants immediately apologizing and getting on your knees to clean it with your sleeve. the friction on his upper thigh is making him grow hard but your teary eyes is what pushes him over the edge.

“nanami-san, don’t go home too late” the last person in the office says stepping on the elevator and waving goodbye.

“have a good night” the blond manages to say over the desk divider that hides your figure. finally knowing you two are alone kento throws his head back and allow his muscles to relax and enjoy the warmth of your mouth as you suck him.

“that’s right, sweetheart, good girl” he praises with a guiding hand on the back of your neck. it’s so good to have someone praising you in this place that your eyes water with joy. kento never meant to nut in the office but here he is, watching his cum run down your chin.

you take the small bin under his desk to spit the incriminating evidence of his pleasure so you don’t have to swallow it, “here, let’s make the clean crew think that’s matsuda’s” kento switches the bin with the one under his coworkers desk.

he hates to admit but over time he starts to look forward the times you feel overwhelmed and come to him for affection.

which leads him to the tiny copy room way too many times, making you hold the edge of your skirt and pulling your underwear and tights down to eat you out on top of the copy maker.

“keep quiet, darling” he warns knowing fully well how thin the walls are.

although you have done many unspoken things to him in this office, nanami still flusters you. every time he’s near, your thighs start to shake and your clit throbs untouched.

“come here, i’ll show you” he motions you over his desk when you ask for help with a task. you watch him perform it on the computer screen, “now you try it” he moves his chair a bit to give you space to use his keyboard and as you bend over slightly to replicate his steps he uses the opportunity to feel the skin of the back of your legs since today you don’t have any tights.

“go back, click here” he corrects still touching you, his hand comes higher, laying just under your ass cheeks, “why are you shaking? type the code there” he says like he doesn’t have a hand under your skirt.

“s-sorry” you say when making a mistake.

“it’s okay, start over” he commands, now playing with the hem of your underwear, it’s hard to do what he showed you when you can’t even guide the cursor right.

nanami pushes the material of your underwear into your folds making out the shape of your pussy through it.

“do it again with this file” he points sounding so collected it makes you even more nervous, he rubs your core so lightly, it’s almost like he’s doing it for his own pleasure, like he’s trying to make out the shape of your clit with the tips of his finger only.

“save it, and send to yourself” as you finish the task he starts to pull down your underwear looking around to make sure no one is watching when he helps you step out of the white lacy material, “well done” he bends to pick your panties, giving your leg a quick kiss — since that’s the most he can do in the office during the day—, and putting the soaked fabric in his pocket.

“thank you” you smile and slowly make your way back to your desk, though your boss calls you middle way about a mistake you made on a file and to come to his office, now you wonder how you’re supposed to make it through the day not only without underwear but also dripping wet.

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[ovaryacted]

PAIRING: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x f! reader || WC: 900 CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Missionary Position/Mating Press. Overstimulation. Mentions of sub-space. Logan is an endearing tease.

Alright...Y'all know I just had to. If it wasn't already evident based on my previous posts, Wolverine is rotting my brain and Hugh Jackman snuck up on me in my sleep and slipped into my head again. I had to get this out of my system before I went insane lmao, and don't worry, I have longer pieces in mind for claw daddy. When writing this, I also imagined the X-Men version of Logan cause I loved the og movies, so this isn't the variant Logan from the Deadpool movie but imagine whichever version tickles your fancy! Thanks to @ozarkthedog for helping me pinpoint his characterization btw. <3

At times, Logan knew he could be a lot to handle. Not that he would really give a fuck most days, but he became more conscious of his presence when he met you. Softer, much more pliant in comparison to him, covered in hard muscle and rugged tendons. You didn’t mind his intensity, much less his overbearing weight and heavy hand. In fact, you welcomed all of him and encouraged him to let loose and forget about his fears regarding how he handled you.

“I’m not made of glass, Logan. I can take it, trust me.”

You told him once, his eyes silently apprehensive as he glanced at you. He was always careful, always self-aware, and treated you with respect. You knew it would take much more convincing to get exactly what you wanted with your lover, who was too adamant about keeping Logan and Wolverine separated in your relationship. But just this once, you asked for his trust to try something else, something a little different.

Ultimately, you got what you wanted, but your curious ambition may have underestimated the situation.

Legs pinned above his broad shoulders, Logan’s hips hammered into you as he fucked you into the mattress. You’ve lost track of time since he pulled the first orgasm between your legs, the tip of his nose and upper lip covered in your slick, glistening under the dim lighting of your bedroom. He surprised you as he kept going, pulling another release out of you with the use of his thick fingers, and a third the moment he slipped his body into yours over and over again.

The back of your head lay limp against the crumbled pillow underneath, thighs shaking on impact and your body jolting upwards with every thrust Logan gave you. You didn’t have the energy to moan or cry out for him anymore, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, and your hands loosely held his flexing biceps.

You were lost, so far gone into pleasure, your brain wasn’t working anymore. The only thing on your mind was how the tip of Logan’s cock continued to hit that spot inside you with rehearsed precision, sending you further into that fuzzy headspace you seemed to enjoy. Your eyesight grew hazy, glossed over with tears on your lashline that began to fall down your warm cheeks. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a comforting palm on your face, fingertips tapping along your cheekbone in an attempt to ground you back to reality.

“You still with me, sugar?” He asked, gravelly voice filtering through your ears. You whined in response, pupils losing focus as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Not a single thought in your head now, huh?” The creases on Logan’s temple became more prominent as he smirked, deep strokes intensifying the heat you felt deep in your gut.

“C’mon sweetheart, need to hear you say something. Talk to me.” His nose bumped into yours, huffs evident on your bottom lip as you struggled to find your voice.

“Logan...” Your voice was breathless and raw, trailing off into a meek whimper at the feel of his other hand squeezing your waist. Your eyes trailed up to his own, hazel irises and a toothy smile came into view, causing you to clench around him. 

“There she is. This too much for you?” He knew it was, knew that this was what you asked of him, to push your limits and bring you to the point of no return.

Your mind fizzled out, the grip on his arm waning as he continued to thrust hard into you. You gave him a feeble nod, finding enough stamina to provide an answer. It was too much; three orgasms in, and your entire body felt on edge and overstimulated, sensitive to anything that was done or said within the confines of your bedroom. And yet, you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to eat your own words and make him proud.

“I know, honey, I know. Just giving you what you wanted.” Logan teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm that matched his cocky expression.

You could feel yourself getting closer, your thighs and knees shaking on either side of his head. He continued to move against you, the hand that was on your waist drifted between your legs, seeking out your throbbing clit. His thumb pressed into the engorged nub, rubbing it in diligent circles that sent your hips jolting away from him. Logan held on to one of your thighs, pressing it towards the mattress and bending forward to pin you in place. Your heart raced, your chest ached, and you tightened at the violent wave of your next climax threatening to wash over you. 

“Keep your eyes on me, right up here. I gotcha.” Logan said, maintaining the powerful drives of his hips until you came around him with a scream of his name, doing your best to hold his gaze. You sobbed at the feeling, a neverending spiral of bliss filling your body and making your head go blank.

“That’s right, atta girl. Keep looking at me.” He rasped, groaning loudly under his breath and leaning down to give you a bruising kiss, spilling into you and filling you to the brim not that long afterwards.

Sure, Logan can be a lot to tolerate sometimes, but you didn’t mind being the one to handle him.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[screampied]

just need a oneshot where toji being so extremely soft with his pregnant wife.😔

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, toji's a big softie, calls reader 'mama' + 'baby' & 'darlin'

wc. 2.0k

toji rubs his eyes, pure static forming into his irises for a bit as he’d awaken up from his nap. with a quick glance at the clock, it read two thirty. in the background played the intro from some old western movie that was on repeat. ah, ever since you’ve gotten pregnant he’s always been staying up with you, ruining his sleep schedule in the process. not that he necessarily minded, you were his wife and he’d do anything for you,

his ears twitch a bit as he hears a sudden ruffling noise of feet — verdant eyes of his focus on you and it’s you trodding towards him and he smiles. “heyy,” he murmurs in a drowsy tone, he figured you’d be awake. toji stares at you so lovingly, the cute baby blue nightgown you wore, winnie the pooh slippers that dragged across the fleecy carpet. with a yawn, he pats his lap for you to take your seat. “y’er lil waddle never stops bein’ cute, mama.”

“stop.” you frown with a pouty look, he’d always tease whenever you do your cute little walk. he grows to adore it, the cute rounded bump on your belly only getting larger. pretty soon, you were about to reach your second trimester. time flew by so fast, it was almost like before you could blink, you’d be meeting your beloved new baby. you slowly make your way onto toji’s lap and he slings an arm around you. he smells good, you were a bit tired already from that ten second walk, cute..

“sorry baby,” toji utters in a soft voice, kissing the back of your head as you relax into his embrace, leaning back. “was gonna wake ya up but ya looked so peaceful,” and he brings a kiss near the inner crevice of your neck. “miss me already?”

you still remain with the cute glowering expression. with a sigh, you shrug. “yes, actually. missed you a lot.”

“awww,” toji caresses against your thighs, his touch was delicate and gentle. as he spoke in a gruff voice, he nips a few more kisses toward the corner of your neck as you faced the other direction. “missed you more. ‘n i missed our girl too,” and that catches you by surprise, he’d always refer to the baby’s gender as a girl. as if he could read your mind, he chuckles before leaning his head against your shoulder. “whaaat? got a feelin’ ‘s gonna be a girl.”

“i think it’s gonna be a boy,” you mumble, feeling your heart flutter a bit. oh, it was always like this between the two of you. the constant banter of the gender, toji just knew it was gonna be a girl while you thought otherwise. he’d be happy with either or though. you, likewise. toji watches with half-lidded eyes as you turn your body a bit to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you plant a kiss on his chin, lips brushing against his stubble and he hums in amusement. “did you get any sleep at all? you have eye bags, ‘toj.”

“ah, ‘m fine,” he grins at your concern, the scar slashed near the right side of his lip twinging in response. you were so cute—the pregnancy glow you had bestowed on you, he could stare at you all day. toji leans in to kiss your nose, yet he notices your deadpan. with a grunt, he surrenders.

“okay okay, the most i got was maybe four-ish hours,” and the look of worry on your face made his heart twist. toji pats your head, smoothening his tone. “don’t worry, baby. it was for a good cause. was up all night readin’ that book you bought like last week.”

with your brows furrowing in confusion, your lips part at your abrupt realization. “oh— the pregnancy fact book?” and then you giggle. “really? i thought you said books were boring, toji.”

“trust, they are,” he sulks, bringing his wrist to rub his eyes. you take a brief glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday. despite it being unable to tell time anymore, he still flaunts it, all because it was a gift from you. with a low sigh, toji moves a few strands out of your face. “but, ‘m willing to try new things for you—er, for us. and it’s quite informative, it told me about y’er strange cravings ‘n it checks out.”

you frown. “what’s wrong with my cravings? you told me you like them.”

“well, darlin’ i love you a lot okay,” and he paints a wet kiss against your cheek. “but if i have to eat another peanut butter pickle sandwich with you, ‘m gonna lose it.”

“it’s not that bad,” you protest, bringing a palm near your stomach to rub it. the bump was easily growing as the weeks progressed—you couldn’t help but be excited once the week of forty rolled around. “you just have a bland appetite.”

toji rolls his eyes. “peanut butter and pickles, baby. not jelly, pickles. pickles?” and you look at him, he’s gently holding both of your shoulders before you giggle. “and i thought nothin’ could top the toast ‘n ice cream.”

you deadpan again. “okay now you’re just being dramatic.”

“i love you,” he boops your nose. “i love you and y’er weird food cravings,” and toji’s eyes trail down toward your tummy. so cute and round, he gingerly moves the fabric of your gown up to reveal your skin, a palm ghosting against your belly. “any cramps today? pain i should know about?”

“no,” you hum, immediately relaxing from his touch. the warmth of his hand made your breathing slow a bit. he moves it around in a smooth circular rotation before brushing a thumb against your belly button. “kinda scared toji.”

leafy, viridescent eyes meet its way back up to yours before his face softens. “what for, darlin’? good scared or bad scared?”

in a sweet, timid tone, you puff out a single shaky breath. “like … both i guess? i’m excited of course but ‘m kinda scared. we’re having a baby, toji. pretty soon i’ll be on my third trimester,” and he’s so attentive as you’re talking, quite literally getting lost in your eyes. who knew that you could turn this man into such a soft sap, he adored you. as you continue to rant, toji strokes your cheek with a warmhearted simper. “i watched lots of videos about birthing and it looks scary.”

“not gonna lie to you, baby. ‘s gonna be scary, but y’know what? ‘m gonna be right there with you,” and he strokes a thumb against the enlarging stretch marks growing against your belly. he’s gentle, tracing a finger against each one before his eyes avert back up to you. “i’ll be right beside you. holdin’ y’er hand ‘n all,” and he kisses the crown of your head. “y’er gonna be the prettiest mommy. our girl’s lucky to have you. i’m lucky to have you.”

for some reason, those last few words struck right through the veins of your heart. mentally, you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry—

but alas, your eyes start to swell up, bottom lip quivering and toji notices immensely at your change of body language.

“awww, was that too much?” he purrs, bringing you towards his chest. you sniffle, your nose digging into his neck and an arm of his cradles you. toji starts to rock you, he presses another kiss against the top of your head before humming. “didn’t mean ‘ta make ya cry, darlin’ but ‘s true. ya don’t gotta worry that pretty little head, ‘m gonna be right here for anything..”

a solid tear drops against his tank top before your chin rests against his chest. you slowly look up at him with that familiar pouty expression before he swipes a thumb against your eyes. “cutie,” he takes your tears away, your lashes all damp and long. “y’er even more emotional because of the baby too. hormones, aw yeah i know these facts by heart.”

“you’re such a dork,” you wipe your face with a laugh, the mood suddenly light again. toji was gonna be spewing out pregnancy facts at you all day, you knew that now. whilst you sat up, trying to re-collect yourself, you speak in a soft voice. “but really, thank you toji. i love you,” and you grab ahold of his hand. your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing it tight. “you’ll be a great daddy.”

“heyy girl, don’t make me cry now,” he teases, a thumb of his running across the softness of your hand.

toji’s face relaxes, the more he stares into your eyes, the more he falls more and more in love.

toji was just as excited as you, maybe even more.

he couldn’t wait to start this new milestone, this new journey with you. a baby, the two of you would be proud new parents. the thought of it alone brings a soft smile to his face before he leans in to kiss you.

you return the gesture,

closing your eyes while feeling his warm lips mash against your own. toji was so weak for you, happily so.

life was worth living for him again now that he had you and the growing baby in your stomach. once you met him, he thought he’d never move on. he was a broken man who came to the mere conclusion that he had no purpose— all until you came along. toji didn’t believe in second chances, but maybe he’d start. you were his everything, and he couldn’t have been anymore grateful to have you in his arms at this right particular moment.

after a while, the kiss departs and toji smears a thumb against your glossed lips. “you drive me crazy,” he whispers, soft jade like irises peering into yours for about fourteen seconds before he sneaks a kiss near your jaw. “oh, you just reminded me. i ordered somethin’ the other day.”

with your interest piqued, you watch as he grabs out his phone— toji opens some shopping app, swiping a thumb near the check out section before showing it to you. what you were staring at was a cute huge pink sticker for cars that displayed the words of, ‘BABY ON BOARD!’

“you’re so cute,” you lean in to hug him, finding his enthusiasm adorable. a hand of his strums against your back before he leans against the couch. “you’re really set on it being a girl though, huh?”

“yeah,” he presses his nose against yours. “or if it’s a boy, we can name ‘em toji. such a manly name.”

your eye twitches. “one of you is enough,” and he smirks, feeling your thumb play against his scar. “but toji, ‘s like the afternoon. you should go back to sleep.”

“not tired,” he shakes his head, wrapping two arms around your sweet frame. your scent had him always wanting more of you, so sweet. toji pats your back gently before his face buries into your neck. “i’d rather stay up ‘n talk with you.”

“but i was gonna go back to sleep,” you pout.

toji huffs with a smile, kissing the shell of your ear. “oh, you want me back in bed, ‘s that it? darlin’ you could have just asked.”

you blankly stare at him and he guffaws, standing up and pulling you with him. “ah, c’mon. let’s go sleep for another fifteen hours i guess,” he teases, and he helps you walk. toji gawks at your cute waddle. so cute, you felt like you had so much water stored in you. entirely full, your heels slide against the floor before you hold onto your husband’s bicep. “there we go, one step at a time.”

“i’m not a baby, toji.” you mutter, secretly feeling yourself get hot from his doting affection. he’s holding onto you and you’re holding on to him.

“y’er my baby,” he corrects, and once the two of you reach the empty bedroom filled with infant supplies and boxes of baby furniture, you take a seat on the edge of the mattress. toji towers above you as you sit, cupping your face with a sly smile. “wife,” he coos in a gentle voice, two thumbs fondling against both sides of your temples. “i love you. never forget it, yeah?”

“i .. love you too toji.”

he hums. “heh, before we sleep though. how about some pickles?” and your face lights up.