#but i bought the drink bottle because despite knowing this

[mads-is-tired]

i’ve had my slime story drink bottle for four days (i love it) and the lid just broke 😭😭

my dad, however, managed to fix it by melting the plastic

[diejager]

👉👈 imagine reader as a cow living in a nice farmer but because they doesn’t produce any milk than other cow, the owner was worry so they brought lot of Bulls (task 141, kortac) to chose as mate but all of them wanted the cow.

Credit to @frogchiro and @nymphany for this!

Pasture Cw: hybrid, mention of breeding, milking (milk and cum), SLIGHT DUB-CON, SLIGHT DARKFIC, tell me if I missed any.

Price, the gentle, bear-looking farmer, had initially planned to have you milked, his high-end and pedigree from an ancestry of HoJos spanning many generations that he bought for a high price, soft and plump in just the right areas. He heard from Kate that she and her wife had bought a couple of HoJos, making quite the profit on their milk, fatty and thick, but silky on the tongue. He wanted to have such luxury in his arsenal, a cute, little heifer that he’d milk for the sake of tasting and drinking it to fill his stomach with warmth until he decided to sell a few bottles.

He wasn’t in any need for money, he had enough to last the rest of his life without lifting a finger, but he liked keeping busy, work and routine beaten into his body from the military. He already had a business with the amount of bulls he bought, broad and sturdy, powerful hybrids that he could milk for their potent semen and labour. Most were obedient despite a bull’s temperament, listening to his orders like his subordinates would, following them to a T without a complain. But there was always that one who acted out, either from sheer cheekiness or mischief, he would reprimand them, punish them if it went too far.

He thought he’d experiment with you, his new little obsession he would coddle and pamper with a house of your own and an open stall. You were so well behaved that he could leave the house open to let you graze and sunbathe under the warm sun when you weren’t busy with him training you with various aspect of your new life as his prized possession. You were everything he could’ve ever wanted, obedient, gentle, soft-spoken and eager to please him, letting him suckle on your swollen and heavy tits, your ears flickering back and forth and tail wrapped around his thigh.

His only issue was that you had problems producing milk. You would produce trickles of it some days and a gush of milk the other, it was a disorderly affair that he sought to fix if he wanted to create a stable trade with you alone. When he brought the issue up with Kate, she told him that cows usually produced more milk after birthing, breasts heavy with milk and aching to be milked of it’s produce, thick and rich tasting to raise a little calf that he would soon sell than let them take your attention away.

“Introduce her to the bulls, they might help,” were the mind blowing words that Kate’s wife gave him, the cementing proposition that had him make his mind on the next step.

He introduced you to his bulls, bringing them outside of their stalls and letting them roam the fenced pasture beside yours, watching you lay under the sun and ears flick away a buzzing bug. They’ve seen other hybrids before, women especially, but have never shown any interest in of them. He feared he’d have to introduce you to another farmer’s hybrid (Price wanted to take thing into his own hands, but he didn’t know how you’d take it to his advances) if you didn’t catch their attention, bringing in a stranger to breed you.

Fortunately, they were quick to scent you out, seemingly riled up and pumping out more seed since he bought you, restlessly wandering in circles in their stalls to sate the need to get to you as fast as they could. Their eyes gleaming with arousal and nostrils flared to sniff you out, stalking to the edge of their pen, the metal unflinching to their harsh grip on the fence. They looked starved - possessed - with how eager they were to cross the barrier, hollering at you and trying to coax you towards their side of Price’s land.

Soap and König looked the most out of it, slumped over with deluded perversion of need and hunger, arms reaching for your seated figure, staring at the group of bulls with wide eyes. Nikto wasn’t any better, both he, Krueger and Ghost glaring down at you with vicious and burning eyes, lost in their minds of dark desires and corrupted dreams. Gaz and Horangi were softer, more hesitant to spook you, but they were as restless as the rest of their housemates. You were none the wiser, gazing at them with your pretty, doe eyes, meeting their eyes with innocent and a cute smile, always ready to please others.

Perhaps he should’ve acquainted you all before.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny

[avocado-writing]

if you are taking short fic requests for wade n logan, how about one where typically sunshine!reader comes home sad and while the both of them have that frenemy thing going, they agree on fucking up whoever made reader unhappy :o btw i love your work ❣️

You fill the apartment with laughter and light and life. You: all parts sunshine and joy, making things a bit brighter even when the world feels so dark. You’re a bit of levity at the end of a day which is usually bathed in blood. A reminder of what’s worth fighting for. 

So when you walk in that night with your jaw grit tight and eyes watery, it’s pretty damn noticeable. 

“Hey. You okay?” asks Logan, voice gruff but full of concern. He’s on the couch, patching himself up from no doubt getting the shit beaten out of him, hopefully not staining the new throw blanket you bought. You head to the fridge wordlessly, grabbing a beer and getting annoyed when you can’t immediately find a bottle opener. He holds his hand out silently, and you give in, allowing him to use one of his claws to help. 

“Long day,” you manage, trying to bite back tears. You hear the bathroom door open and Wade sticks his head out, the sound of conversation irresistible to him. 

“Hey sunshine! How’s my favourite—?” he starts, but trails off when he sees the state you’re in. He goes to jump over the back of the sofa to get to you but immediately falls on his face because he’s missing half a leg. Despite everything a laugh bubbles up from you, inescapable. 

“I’m glad my dismemberment is just a slapstick routine to you, cupcake,” he pouts up at you from the floor. You wipe your eyes furiously with your sleeve and go to help him up, settling him into an armchair - and giving him the opportunity to sweep you into his lap. 

“What’s the matter, honey? Seriously. Who do we need to kill?” he asks. “Is it Deborah? Tell me it’s her. She’s been asking for a knife in the kidney ever since she swiped your lunch two months ago. I’m surprised you haven’t done it yourself, you know we’d help you hide the body.”

“You’re sweet,” you sigh, “but it’s not her, actually. I just had a lot to do today and nobody was cutting me any slack, you know? It got too much.”

“If you need us to talk to anyone,” says Logan, fixing Wade with a look which suggests murdering your colleagues will probably create more problems than solve them, “we’ll do it.”

“Yes! Good-boyfriend, bad-boyfriend routine. Oh, or charismatic-boyfriend, grumpy-but-sexy boyfriend. Or even, slut-boyfriend, slut-but-doesn’t-know-it-yet boyfriend. Maybe that one’s better suited for tonight though…”

Logan growls a warning but Wade just grins, blasé. You giggle. 

“Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Be a lot more bored and horny,” Wade muses, as Logan mutters “hmph. Apartment would be quieter…”

You drink your beer and smile.  

taglist: : @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

[wttcsms]

proof of love;

physical traces that reveal just how much you truly mean to him

ft. tobio kageyama, kiyoomi sakusa, atsumu miya

KAGEYAMA, your skincare routine in his bathroom — tobio lives in a stereotypical bachelor pad; you walk into his apartment and it's the very definition of bare-bones. thin, cotton navy sheets line his bed, with one single flat pillow. he doesn't own a dining table, and instead just stands near his kitchen counter to consume his meals. he blushes and tells you that he's just a minimalist. despite it all, though, after fun nights out, you find yourself heading back to his place with him, sleepy and drunk and pouty. you wake up, instantly regretting not washing off your face, moping because "i'm so gonna break out now, tobio!" when kags visits your place, he opens his notes app to get the names of all the skincare products lining your sink. the next night out, you're being carried into his apartment, mumbling drunk incoherencies. instead of setting you down on his bed (which now has two fluffy pillows and a fruit-print comforter that he bought for you), he guides you two to his bathroom where he places you on the counter and starts trying to figure out which steps to do first to help you remove your makeup. drunk-you guides him every step of the way, and the warmth you feel in your chest and cheeks isn't from the drinks — it's from the gentle care of your boyfriend rubbing in an oil cleanser to strip off your makeup.

SAKUSA, your lipstick stains on his water bottle — kiyoomi likes everything in his life to be neat and tidy. he carries a tide pen in his pocket that he ends up using on your clothes more often than his own. he's particular with how his belongings are treated, and you know better than to mess with anything of kiyoomi's. you respect his boundaries and find his oddities endearing, but you feel so much more secure in your relationship when you realize just how loose his boundaries are when it comes to you. on a road trip, you're thirsty and he offers you his water bottle. you don't think too much about it until you finish drinking and instantly widen your eyes at the sight of pink encasing the rim — remnants of your lipgloss. before you can say anything or try to wipe it off, he reaches over and takes a swig from it without a second thought. you try telling him not to drink yet, but he just glances over at you before focusing back on the road. "why would i be bothered by that? i kiss you all the time, don't i?" it's his subtle way of telling you that what's his is yours; you don't need to walk on eggshells with him.

MIYA, a cheap ring that came in a plastic egg — the proposal doesn't go as atsumu plans. things rarely ever go as atsumu plans, but this time — this is the one time he needs everything to go perfectly. and it does: the photographer is well hidden and on time, the decorations came out fantastic, and the ring! the ring is stunning. it's what's on everyone's pinterest boards. the only issue is that he put the ring box in the wrong pants pocket! with sweaty palms and a pink flush creeping from his neck to his cheeks to his ears, he gets down on one knee. he manages to stammer out his proposal speech to you, and you're listening with tears brimming in your eyes and a watery smile on your face, and then, those beautiful eyes of yours widen in surprise when you see, not a velvet ring box, but a plastic orb being revealed to you. he quickly explains that this is not your real ring (no duh), but that in typical atsumu fashion, he messed up. "it's just a placeholder!!! i'll buy you five diamond rings, just don't say no!" you're not marrying atsumu because of the ring, you remind him, but you allow him to slip on the cheesy ring. it's made out of plastic and it's one of those cheap prizes that are available in those weird machines outside the grocery store; the machines where you insert a quarter and twist the knob and a mysterious plastic ball surprises you with a prize. he tells you it took him a dozen tries to get a ring. you're laughing and saying it's meant to be since the ring manages to fit you perfectly. even after getting your real engagement ring, you still keep the cheesy ring to this day. it's evidence that no matter what happens, atsumu will always go the extra mile for you.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Mr Flavor Soda Part 2

Mr. Flavor's Soda gains traction once the creator starts selling in a fixed place. Anthony's Pasta also grows in customers when word gets out that there is a surefire way of crossing paths with Mr. Flavor on Mondays and Fridays.

It's mainly because Mr. Flavor has gained a reputation for being hard to find. It was almost as if he vanished from one side of the city to the next without so much as a hint of how he got there.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't well known. He was a young teenager, likely fifteen or so, who always rushed about Gotham doing questionable parkour.

People had seen him climb up fire escapes only to do crazy leaps, looking to be aiming for his knees to break on each landing. He was spotted doing cartwheels across walking lanes, sometimes going over the hoods of cars that stopped on the lines instead of around.

He deliberately looked for the most haunted places in Gotham, walking with a traveling tea set because "the ghosts like to have tea parties." He had picnics in the middle of dark alleys, asking the air if it would like a second cup but pouring nothing from his teacup.

People were often confused by his responses when speaking to him. Nothing he said was particularly bad, but it showed his severe social awkwardness.

Customers walked away bemused but holding bottles of delicious beverages.

Another odd thing about the boy was his refusal to sell any of his creations for more than a single dollar. Nothing in Gotham was cheap. A regular Zesti was at least two dollars and nineteen cents, but Mr. Flavor looked appalled to charge so much.

A kid claiming to be among the original group that discovered Mr. Flavor, bestowing him the nickname, quoted the strange soda maker as saying, "If someone gives me a dollar, then I am one dollar richer. But if someone gives me two dollars, then they are two dollars poorer instead of only one."

It sounded humble on the surface, but it didn't really answer the questions the kid had originally asked him which were: "Why do you only charge a dollar? Why not more?"

Some people in Gotham were weary of Mr. Flavor. He didn't sound all quite there in the head. He wasn't near the level of insanity of the supervillains running around, but it wouldn't be a surprise if they all woke up one day to find out Mr. Flavor had snapped.

The remaining skeptics also regarded his drinks with cautious eyes. Despite his claims and the word of Red Hood, many wondered if Mr. Flavor was putting some kind of drug in his drink, hoping to spread it to the masses with his cheap prices.

If he was even selling soda at all.

Zesti is a familiar and beloved brand, but Mr. Flavor was once seen tasting the beverage and shouting, "Is this cream soda?!" He then bought one bottle or can of every soda option from the same gas station.

Each one was apparent "cream soda" according to Mr. Flavor. It was confirmed that the drinks the young boy made were far from the flavor of what they considered soda.

Now, Tim didn't see anything wrong with that. Jason had brought back samples of the other's work, and though the ingredients were interesting, they were ultimately confirmed to be soda. Or as close to soda as Mr. Flavor claimed it was.

He was just a bit eccentric while wandering Gotham. Nothing to worry about. Tim, knowing Jason, Bruce- and maybe even Dick with how determined his eldest brother was to try one of the sodas- had everything regarding Mr. Flavor under control; he chose to turn his attention to a series of missing people reports hitting Old Gotham.

There was no visible connection with the victims besides all having long chestnut hair. Age, gender, and social class didn't matter to whoever was taking these people- and Tim knew they were being taken. Tim found it strange that people who vanished were last seen near the same area, having built a map showcasing they were being targeted within a triangle that covered well-known shopping districts.

It was a bit of ground to cover, but Tim figured if he wandered around there long enough, he would attract the kidnapper's attention. He opened his closet, dusted off his old wig, and an hour later, Caroline Hill made her way over to Old Gotham.

Tim originally hated his Caroline Hill as he did not like disguising himself as a woman, but over time, he grew to adore how easily he could change her backstory and his mannerisms to fit with whoever Caroline was that day.

Sometimes, Caroline was a first-year medical student working through clinicals and rotations. She was overworked, under a lot of stress from her assignments, and didn't have time to be distracted by a social life, much less a man asking her out.

Sometimes Caroline was a highschool student who enjoyed community service. She was friendly, outgoing, and more then willing to take the lead in projects. She was naive and sheltered not losing faith in people quite yet.

Other times, Caroline was a high school dropout who didn't know what she wanted. She would apply to any job that would hire her, dreaming of leaving Gotham one day to find a dream to chase. To her, life was dull and meaningless.

Caroline was even a fashion model once. She was famous for her streetwear outfits and gorgeous selt-taken shots. Tim was proud to say her submission to LexCorp's phone promotion contest was still being broadcast, and she received checks for her work. She oozed confidence as a woman who knew what and when she wanted it.

It showed in her walk as she strutted down Old Gotham, stopping to enter any clothing Boutique she saw under the pretense of looking for an outfit for a big-shot party. She was dressed like the world was her runway, but not a red carpet.

If anything, she dressed like a woman who used to live in Old Gotham during its glory days, gracefully wearing the vintage outfit.

Her attire drew the eye of more than one person, especially when she ran her hand through her long, lush hair, making it fall smoothly against her lower back.

Tim figured model Caroline would be a much more tempting target, mainly because she carelessly browsed the various shops and little cafes. Anyone who watched her could tell she was unaware of her surroundings, and Tim had to carefully ensure they never doubted her blindness for even a second.

It was well; he was in an antique shop, glancing at lipstick holders, when something finally happened. The door swung open with a bang, and he allowed himself to jump as it would be something Caroline would do.

"Sorry! I gave the door a little too much razzle instead of dazzle!" a voice yells. Tim twists around to see a boy his age, with wild black hair—as if he did try to run a comb through it, but the strains refused to yield—and big, sparkling, far too aqua eyes.

Was he wearing cheap color contacts? Or was he a meta?

"No problem, Danny." Ms. Pinkney, the owner, a sweet woman who had refused to marry and was now approaching her sixties, smiled back. "Are you here again to play with Cyrus?"

"Yup, I'm going to beat him today." The boy chirps, walking over to a display that was roped off. He didn't seem to care for the sign on the red rope that read "WARNING: HAUNTED BY ANGRY SPIRIT" as he stepped over it.

It was the notoriously cursed chessboard and the two original armchairs from the eighteen hundreds.

Tim knew of the rumor that the man responsible for Gotham's architectural style- Cysrus Pinkney- had been in the middle of a chess game with his friend Solomon Wayne on the eve of his fortieth birthday when he had died.

He had been poisoned in the middle of a large party thrown by Henry Cobblepot, and no one to this day knew who his murder had been. Following Pinkney's death, terrible things happened to anyone who tried to sit or even move the chessboard. Sounds of chess pieces clicking on the board, low mutters in a man's voice, and even the chair moving back and forth began to appear.

Figthen that Cysrus still lingered; Henry had gifted Cysrus's wife the two chairs, the board, and the table it sat on. She took it home and learned that only she and her children were allowed near Cysrus.

He attacked all the others, including Solomon and his other best friend, Amadeus Arkham. The attacks were so bad that everyone eventually knew not to bother Cysrus.

He became an Urban Legend of Gotham, and many tourists would travel to Old Gotham just to gawk at the Pinkey's haunted family heirlooms.

Tim watched him confidently sit in an armchair before a chessboard. He gave the opposite chair across from him a wide smile. "Hiya Cyrus."

A lamp near Tim was flung at the boy, who took the hit with a laugh. "No need to be rude."

The lamp shattered against the ground, appearing to have been lifted again, only to fall as the boy reached out and moved a pawn. Tim's stomach dropped. His experience with Greta had taught him that ghosts were very real and, when their deaths were left unsolved, often very violent.

This guy had no idea what he was dealing with.

He opens his mouth when the teenager is suddenly flung from his seat, flying across the room and smashing against the wall. Ms. Pinkney laughs as if she just saw a toddler throw a fit.

"Honestly, grandfather, must you be so rude? Danny is just trying to play with you."

Tim watches her hair shift as if someone- or something- was ruffling her hair. Yikes, it was a poltergeist who unliked Greta was not visible but able to touch anything he pleased.

"Knight G1 to F3!" Danny yells, climbing to his feet. The scraping sounds of something being dragged across the floor as Danny twists around with his arms spread wide as a very large wardrobe rushes at him. He welcomed the attack like an old friend, nose cracking as it broke.

"Going Ghost!" Danny screams through his blood, landing on the ground as the wardrobe nearly crushes him.

Tim's mouth drops open. He's taunting Cyrus!? Not challenging his existence but straight up taunting the angered spirit?!

"Grandfather!" Ms. Pinkney scowls. "Stop this at once! You're usually more friendly than this. Danny is a guest!"

"It's okay, Ms. P! I think it's almost Cyrus' death day. All ghosts tend to get a little cranky around that time. Besides we're scaring the lady."

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for " lady" Danny to refer to him as he still wears Caroline. It's enough for the boy to leap to his feet, pat himself down—ignoring the broken nose—and strut to Tim.

Before the undercover man can say anything, Danny yanks out a bottle and hands it over. "Sorry about that, ma'am. Here, I have one on the house."

A Mr.Flavor bottle is thrust into his hands; the bubbling clear water with the leaping boy has green and yellow undertones. It's the only difference to the bottle Jason showed him not too long ago.

The teenager smiles, his teeth colored red. "You're quite pretty. Have a good day! Don't let your drink get warm!"

Then he skipped right out.

"Wha?" He blinks, and Ms. Pinkney slides right up to him with a ruthful smile.

"I know what you're thinking. I don't believe Danny is eccentric, but he has a good heart." She starts carefully, studying Tim's face with far too much intensity. It's not the kind of attention that one gives someone who they are just trying to convince to leave someone else alone. Her eyes linger on his wing for a few seconds too long.

Isn't her shop smack in the middle of the missing people's map? Interesting.

"Who was that?" He says instead, making sure Caroline's voice sounds breathy and sweet.

She smiles "Danny. But most know him as Mr.Flavor."

Tim looks at the bottle in his hands, feeling the ice-cold beverage- did he just pull it out of a freezer?- and unclips it to have a sip. It's nothing like soda, but it is at the same time.

It was far smoother than other sodas, with far more bubbles, and the flavor made his tastebuds sing.

"Oh, looks like you got Sprite. That's one of my favorites," Ms Pinkney comments. "Rare that one. Danny usually sells out by now."

"Does he come here often?"

The old woman laughs. "I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree, dearie."

Not what he meant, but if it kept his new number one suspect to chat more, he is fine with the assumption.

"Does he not like girls?" Tim asks, allowing his features to pull into a pout. He is very grateful that her made Caroline young enough to pass for his own real age.

"I don't believe he likes humans, I'm afraid. Male or female."

Huh?

But Ms. Pinkney's attention was distracted by the chess board, which shook slightly as the pieces previously moved by Mr. Flavor returned to their starting positions. She walked over to carefully lift up the thrown wardrobe.

Tim is quick to help her, slowly restoring the shop to its former glory. It's only after they finish that the old lady glances in the direction in which Mr. Flavor disappeared.

"Grandfather Cyrus is my great-great-great-great-grandfather. It's easier for me to call him grandfather since he's been around for generations, but his closeness has made the family tree a bit sensitive to the paranormal. I'm unsure what Danny is, but he doesn't feel human." She sighs. "I doubt he will find what he is looking for if he continues going about things like this."

"Like what?" Tim asks, stepping closer. "What's Danny looking for?"

The old woman's dark eyes chill down his spine as she gazes at him. "Death."

In the corner of Tim's eye, a man sitting at a chess set nods his head. He decides it's a good time to end his daily undercover work. Tim leaves, strutting with less grace as his mind recounts everything he knows about Mr. Flavor.

He is unaware of the person watching him from the alley, eyes tracing the lovely mane of chestnut hair. The grin that blooms over their face is nothing else but hungry.

[deerboybreeder]

LONG fucking fantasy below the cut whoops. Tw for rape, drugging and stalking ♥️

I move to a small town in the middle of nowhere to completely restart my life. The community is small and tight knit, but thankfully extremely accepting, so me being trans is a non issue! Or at least, people have the decency to not say anything about it to my face. I feel welcomed in this town, though I spend a lot of my time improving the patch of land I moved onto and less talking to residents, even though I've met nearly everyone.

I start getting letters in the mail, complimenting me in sweet, flowery language. It makes me feel special, but there's no return address, so I can't write back. But over time, the letters get more possessive. Once, the letter describes my body fairly graphically, in all the most complimenting ways, but it's clear they saw me working shirtless in my garden, tits free to the wind. My land is huge and fenced in, someone would have to have jumped my fence and gotten very close without my noticing to see me doing that.

I start spending a little less time at home and more time in town, hoping to make some connections to keep my mind off my "secret admirer", who started recently describing how beautiful and motherly of a man I would make swollen with his baby. I don't tell anyone about it, embarrassed by the content, and the fact that despite the obvious escalation, it makes me wet to think about all this attention. I'm not beloved by the town, but I make a few good friends.

One day, a year to the day I moved into town, a package shows up at my door. Its from my secret admirer, a very small bottle of wine with a letter attached. Praising all my accomplishments this year, in detail, in order. Singing my praises and wishing for even more in the upcoming year. Against my better judgement, I accept, and take the wine inside.

I generally am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol- I learned that recently, out with friends at the local bar. One had bought me a drink and I needed help home afterwards, and the friend that bought me the round felt so badly about my state he walked me home himself. But I had nothing else to do that day, so I poured myself a glass anyway.

I don't drink often, so I didn't recognize right away that something was wrong. Didn't notice that I was fading in and out of consciousness on the couch until one moment I was watching a documentary on wilderness survival, and the next it was about space travel. My body was heavy, I could barely move, so the couch would have to do that night.

I almost chalked it up to overindulgence when my front door opened.

It was a small town- I had no reason to lock my door. Even my secret admirer hadn't made mention of wanting to break in, just lamented that they couldn't work up the courage to approach me first. But apparently, this was how they chose to do it.

I yelled, a slurred and disoriented thing. Time was runny, and I didn't even have time to process running before they were on me. A mask, sunglasses and a ball cap obscured my attackers face, hair seeming meticulously tucked into the cap to further obscure their identity.

I tried to struggle, but I'm small and they're much bigger- not to mention the wine that I realize must've been drugged. They shush me, clearly altering their voice so I wouldn't know who they are- small town, after all.

They pull up my shirt, tangling me in it and covering my face so I can't see them. Everything is running together, and at some point they've taken my pants off too, Im lying naked before them. Everything narrows down to sensations that run together. A mouth sucking on my nipple, my attackers hands running reverently down my body. They're murmuring words I can't understand because my head is swimming from the spiked drink. Their fingers find my wet and waiting slit, and they thumb over my tdick, and despite myself I make a strangled noise.

Then, I am aware of their cock at my entrance, and I get another burst of fighting, but it's useless. They shush me, kissing the side of my face through the fabric of the shirt around my face, and promise to be gentle as they push themself into my dripping cunt. They moan openly into my ear, muffled by the shirt, and start playing with my tits while they rape me.

Everything is blurry, I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake up and find that they're still fucking me. They whisper praises, saying they wish they'd done this a year ago when I first moved in, how much of a tease I was working in my garden shirtless or changing in front of the window. How we were going to be so happy together, how excited they were to realize I had a womb they could fill. How they'd start with one, but they knew I would look heavenly round and heavy with their baby for the rest of my life.

I don't know how much time passed, them using my pliant body like a cocksleeve. They were mostly true about being gentle, aside from the bruising on my hips where they held me down. They came against my waiting cervix at least once, but it all ran together for me. After cumming inside me, they gently rubbed my stomach over my womb, scratching the trail of dark hair that sprouted over the year taking testosterone.

I wanted to cry, but they stayed inside me growing soft for a while, gently fondling me or kissing my body. Eventually, I blacked out entirely.

The next morning I couldn't pretend it was a dream- I was left tangled up in my clothes, though a blanket from my room was draped over me and my TV turned off. My cunt was sore and I had the world's worst hangover. I stumbled to the shower and tried not to throw up.

I didn't want to be alone, so after my chickens were fed I went down to the friends house who helped me home that night. He had been so kind, and we'd started getting close. He had even dismissed a mutual friend making a joke about taking advantage of me the night he helped me home- he'd just helped me to my bed and left. I could trust him.

He knew something was off the moment he saw me, and ushered me inside. He got me water from his fridge, and sat down with me to let me talk.

I told him everything. First about the rape that night, then elaborating to the stalker in tears. He looked horrified, and let me sob in his arms. He was so kind to me, so good to me. I told him I didn't want to be alone. He offered to move in with me for a little while, to make sure nothing else happened. I agreed immediately, and he started packing up his things right that second.

His time spent moved in was nice. I got up early for my chickens and garden, but somehow he was always up earlier, making me coffee and breakfast. Some days he even watered my plants for me, just to be kind. He was sweet, always there to support me. He slept on the couch with no complaints, and even held me close when a noise outside had me convinced the stalker was going to break down the now locked door and rape me again.

The admirers notes slowed. They first were promises of coming back again, to see my "beautiful fertile body" up close again. Then threats when my friend moved in. Then nothing. I thought the nightmare was over.

I had chalked up the throwing up to a traumatic response and the drugs working their way out of my system. When it continued I didn't think much of it. Attributed the weight gain to my friend fussing over me and making sure I ate well. But the slightly round look of my stomach unsettled me, so I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.

I was in hysterics when I saw the lines, and my friend ran into the room asking if I was hurt. I just shook my head and showed him the test, and he took me into his arms. We both know by this point it was too late to abort in the state this town was in, and travel costs put it out of the question if I could go out of state to have it done.

My friend assured me that it would be alright. That he'd help me through this. That he'd even help me raise the baby if I didn't want to be a single father.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was the kindness he'd shown me this past month or two. Maybe it was the way he looked up at me, having knelt down in front of me to make his promise of support. But I kissed him. I had fallen in love with this man, who'd taken care of me in my time of greatest need. And with the way he kissed me back, he'd fallen for me too.

It was like a switch was flipped, like he had been holding back this entire time. I invited him into my bed, and every night his hands were on me. I loved the way he felt, so happy to have someone else touch me after what happened. Every touch was adoring and reverent, he made me feel like a prince. Id beg him to cum deep inside me and breed me, and he'd get a look in his eyes when he pounded my cunt. It helped me pretend it was his baby growing inside me, especially when he'd put his hand on my growing stomach protectively.

Our relationship moved quickly. We were dating for only three months when he proposed to me, but it felt like three years. Gladly I accepted, and it took only two months to set up the wedding. He handled everything, insistent I just relax because he didn't want to stress out the baby. I was heavily pregnant at our wedding, and I heard a few murmurs about it being a shotgun wedding. I let them gossip- I hadn't told anyone about my attack, and I didn't care if they thought we were just getting married because I got knocked up. My husband and I knew the truth.

Those final few months were hard, but my wonderful husband took such good care of me. Doted on me hand and foot, took care of the chickens entirely, and with winter setting in soon I didn't need to tend the garden at all. This loving wonderful man cared for me through every stage of this unwanted pregnancy and turned it into the start of a beautiful life. It was like a scene out of a romance novel.

My labor was hard, but he was there through it all. Fussing over me and ensuring I got the best care. It hurts beyond words, the baby huge and heavy, but I managed. A sweet baby girl.

He was overjoyed. The next two months spent in a sleepy newborn haze, of course. But he was always there, at my side. He cooked dinner, kept the house tidy, watched the baby as I tended the chickens, our main income aside from a few residuals from some old novel he wrote years ago. He didn't even ask for sex, knowing I was healing, even if I wanted to regardless of doctors orders. But we waited.

The anniversary of the attack came and went, and he held me through my sobs. Reminded me that even if the experience was horrible, we had our beautiful daughter, and our beautiful relationship, because of it. And he was right. I was able to leave it behind.

As time wore on, he continued to be an amazing husband. Attentive in daily life, wonderful to our child, and absolutely fantastic in bed.

Nights spent after the baby was sleeping entwined in each other. His cock buried to the hilt in my needy cunt, his mouth on my heavy milky tits. Some nights, id let him take Polaroid photos of me impaled on his cock, or sucking him off, or stroking my tdick as his cum leaked out of me. I never saw where he kept them, but the idea that my body was so important to him he kept photos around made me feel good and loved. I never needed to ask with him, he somehow always knew what I needed, and I was often marked with hickies along my body from him. He said he was claiming every part of me.

A few months into summer, I felt off again. This time I didn't wait, and took a pregnancy test right away. Positive again. We weren't trying explicitly, but we weren't preventing it either, especially not with how I begged him to breed me every night. I told him, and he was overjoyed. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We decided to turn his old stuff into a playroom, since the nursery itself was small. I set to work on it in the mornings, while he was making breakfast. It was a lot to take down and move, so it took a while. While emptying his desk to have him move it to storage, I found a little cardboard box. Curious, I opened it up.

At first I thought it was the dirty photos he had taken of me. The idea of him alone in his study, fucking his hand to these photos when working late on a new story made me shiver. But then, under those photos were more. Candid shots of me out with friends, even before the baby. I hadn't gotten out much after the baby came, not like I went much of anywhere after the attack. These photos were old.

Then, the ones from my home. In through the windows while I was changing. My shirtless working in my garden. Me reaching for a gift wrapped bottle of wine.

With shaking hands, I set the box down. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had come up behind me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, in a way hours ago I would find protective but now felt like a vice grip.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, as he placed a hand over my womb, once again full of his child. "I told you we were meant to be. That you would look beautiful heavy with my baby for the rest of your life. I know you think so too. Why else would you beg me to breed that fertile, beautiful body of yours again? Just as I said before. If it weren't for that night, we wouldn't have our daughter, or our marriage. I just wish I'd done it sooner."

[lovemybluebully]

A Small Lapse of Judgement

What do you get when you cross a drunk Wolverine? Tickled. You get tickled. 🤣

Okay, yeah sorry guys. This one is literally like twice as long as my last one, but Logan and Wade both needed to get wrecked good. lol I'm just having too much fun writing these guys. So get some snacks or something because you're going to be here for a minute.

More somewhat movie spoilers, and Wade saying inappropriate things to Logan's annoyance. lol Oh, and of course tons of cussing. And tickles. Lots of tickles.

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 4,372

At first Logan had declined Wade's invitation to live with him at his apartment. Having been on his own for so long Logan didn't want to accept the fact that anyone actually wanted him around, but after Wade's persistent prodding and convincing he finally accepted.

"Yes!! It'll be like a sexy slumber party!" Wade had whooped, but one steely-eyed look from Logan made him turn it down, "Ahem. Or, you know, just two guys hanging out together with no lewd activities of any kind...."

No doubt Wade pushed Logan's buttons and got on his nerves more than anyone he had ever met in his life, but after their ordeal together there was no denying the bond that had been created between the two of them. It was hard for him to admit it, but Wade was definitely someone Logan now considered as a friend.

Surprisingly he settled in quickly and had begun to make himself comfortable, allowing him to let his guard down and actually relax for once. It was only a one-bedroom apartment so even though he had to sleep out on the couch every night he was grateful to have a place to call home.

And Wade was thrilled to have him there. Unlike his other roommate, Blind Al, Logan was progressively becoming more tolerant of his off the wall antics so it was nice to have someone else there that he could really joke around with. And drink with, though Logan still tended to embark on some solo day drinking of his own.

Wade shuffled into the living room in his crocs one late evening with Dogpool cradled in his arm to find Logan slouched over on the couch in nothing but jeans and a tank top and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Further observation revealed there to be two more empty bottles laying around on the ground by his feet.

"Hey. Robert Downey Jr. Wanna take it easy on the booze?"

Logan lazily looked up at him, rolling his eyes when he saw Wade was allowing the dog to lick all over his face.

"I will once ya take it easy on always making out with that mutt."

Wade stared at him in defiance as he continued to kiss Dogpool's head while she licked all around his mouth, making Logan grimace in disgust before Wade set her down upon the ten-sizes-too-big dog bed he had bought for her.

"You know if you were jealous all you had to do was ask, baby girl. There's plenty of Wade Wilson to go around," he leaped onto the couch beside Logan and puckered his lips, making smooching sounds as he tried to pull the other man close while Logan cursed and struggled to hold him back.

"Hey hey! Fucking knock it off, asshole!" Despite his annoyance he chuckled a little with the alcohol lightening his mood and after a few more seconds Wade finally relented to sit himself back.

"You can fight it all you want, but I know you'll come around one day. There's no resisting my natural labido," Wade sat facing him as he gave a wink and a flirty grin, causing Logan to sigh with a shake of his head and take another sip from the bottle.

"See this is exactly why I still drink. I need something to help tolerate your obnoxious ass on a daily basis."

"Fine by me. It has its benefits. Number one being that you're so much less stabby when you're like this," Wade teased, wiggling a finger into his side as Logan squirmed and giggled before swatting at his hand with boozed up coordination.

"Why are ya always tickling me? I hate that shit," Logan was still smiling though as he rubbed at his irritated ribs.

"Because," Wade smiled and turned to look out at the audience before whispering quietly under his breath, "The people demand it."

He sat staring in silence for several seconds until Logan lifted a brow in confusion.

"The fuck you looking at?"

"Nothing," Wade turned back to him, "Well it's because I have to make you laugh somehow, grumpy pants. You're always so serious, and worst of all you never laugh at my jokes."

"Oh yeah? Have ya tried actually being funny?"  A big shit eating grin was plastered on Logan's face as he instinctively pulled his arms in close to his body, not expecting Wade to let that one slide.

"Ooh hoo hoo, you're going to pay for that one later. You know what, smart ass? Maybe I'll tickle you in front of Laura. I'm sure she'd love to help me double team you sometime. A little badger on badger action, if you will." 

It was Wade's turn to smirk as Logan just looked back at him with nervous eyes that he tried to hide behind the scowl now creasing over his face.

"You'd better fuckin' not."

"I don't know. It's sounding like a pretty good idea to me. Usually I have to pay to see that kind of thing but-"

Logan growled as his claws started to come out, but Wade just laughed and wagged a finger at him.

"Ah ah ah! Rule number one, no bloodshed in the house. So best keep those claws of yours in check, my little kitty cat."

"Just don't give me a reason then," Logan warned, retracting the claws before his eyes raised to focus on Wade's head, "By the way, how long are ya gonna keep wearing that stupid toupee? I already told you that you ain't foolin' anyone with that thing."

Wade looked positively insulted as he patted and smoothed down the hair on his head.

"Uhmm excuse me? As I've told you a thousand times, it's a hair system. It's so I can go out in public looking halfway decent. Not all of us were blessed with the perfect bone structure of a successful Broadway actor," turns his head briefly to look at the camera, "And besides, I think it looks quite distinguished."

"I've seen better looking roadkill than whatever that thing's made out of," Logan snorted and downed the rest of the bottle in his hand before dropping it on the floor beside the other empty bottles.

"Says the guy who looks like he has roadkill glued to the sides of his face," Wade gave a less than gentle tug on his muttonchops as Logan grunted and smacked his hand away.

"Oh yeah? Well at least I can grow facial hair, pal. You on the other hand don't have a speck of hair on your whole goddamn body. You're like a fucking pre-pubescent child. This is what a real man looks like," a tipsy smirk crawled across his face as he nonchalantly pulled up his tank top to show off his hairy chest and stomach.

He emphasized his point by running a hand over his hirsute, muscular torso while Wade just stared very, very hard.

"........Are you trying to turn me on right now? Because it's working," Wade was smiling deviously and reaching a hand out as Logan chuckled dryly and gave him a hard shove, sending him flying to the other end of the couch, "Just so you know, I'm adding that one to the spank bank."

"You fucking wish, bub. Think ya got a better chance with that ugly ass dog of yours," he nodded over towards the sleeping pooch while tugging his shirt back down. 

It was rare to see such a repulsed look on Wade's face as the man always seemed to be down for whatever but apparently messing with the dog was where he drew a line.

"Woah woah, that's just going too far now. You need therapy, my friend."

"Oh please. I forgot you were the fucking poster child for mental stability," Logan muttered as he lifted his legs to prop his bare feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

"Heyheyhey! What in the ever-living fuck do you think you are doing? That's where we cut up our Bolivian nose candy-"

"I thought Feige said ya can't talk about that."

"Well what Feige doesn't know won't hurt him. Now let's go. Chop chop. Feet off the table, bud," Wade scolded and kicked Logan in the leg as the man rolled his eyes and begrudgingly pulled his feet down.

"You are such a fucking caveman. That table is an antique. Furniture crafted from the finest-OOof!" Wade grunted in pain as Logan dropped his feet onto his lap with his heel coming down hard onto his groin, "Uh uh nope. Not happening. Feet off the Deadpool too." 

"Well I gotta put 'em somewhere. What? Offended that ya weren't my first choice? Be flattered I finally found a good use for you," Logan smirked big time at the genuine outrage that now displayed on Wade's face.

"What the fuck do you mean?! You've seen what a phenomenal cook I am!"

"Almost burned down the apartment."

"I'm the king of late-night karaoke!"

"Got the cops called on us three times already."

"Well I'm good at making friends everywhere I go."

"I had to beat the shit out of all those bikers to get them off of you. Not to mention you almost got us banned from my favorite bar, you dumb fuck."

Wade started to pout from Logan shooting down all of his claims, but was quickly back to grinning as he thought of something that Logan couldn't possibly argue against.

"Okay, you know what? You wanna see something I'm good at? I'll show you something I'm very good at," Wade smirked and grabbed ahold of Logan's legs, securing his ankles in one arm as he began ruthlessly tickling the bottoms of his feet.

Logan lost any sense of calm he had as he immediately broke into a hysterical laughing fit, figuring out too late that he had made a huge mistake. There weren't many things in life that could get the Wolverine to lose his cool, but Wade Wilson the Tickle Monster never failed.

"Baahahahahahaha! Wahahahahade, dohohohon't!! Okaahaahaahaay! I'll mooohoohoove 'em!!"

Logan was far too buzzed to pull his usual act of fighting back his reactions and trying to pretend that he wasn't as horribly sensitive as he really was. Not that any of that ever discouraged Wade since he knew he'd always get him to crack eventually.

"Nah, that's okay. You just keep them right where they are, Giggles. Maybe this'll teach you some manners. Or not, that's okay too. I wouldn't want to run out of excuses to do this....," he scratched at the soles with Logan going nuts and frantically pulling at his captured legs while Wade's arm only squeezed tighter around them to ensure he wouldn't escape.

"Stahahahaaap, ya dihihihick! Fuhuhuhuckin' lehehehehe-lehehet me gohohohohooo!"

"What's that? Aww did you forget your safe word again? So confusing. How do I know if you really want me to stop or not?" The merc teased with his fingers scribbling at Logan's arches as the X-man's laughter surged in volume.

"Fuhuhuhuhuck you! Aaaheheeheeheehee nohohoho! Waahaait! I'm sohohohohorry!" He howled with tears already in his eyes as Wade found the weak spots under his toes; his body twisting and flopping around as he braced his arms on the couch in his clumsy attempts to get free.

Wade always enjoyed when Logan was in this state. Not only was he a lot less homicidal than if he was sober but he wasn't nearly as uptight and didn't even fight the tickles as hard. He practically just rolled over and took it and didn't hold much back. 

He suspected that Logan didn't hate being tickled nearly as much as he made out and loved to tease him about it much to the older man's insistent denial of the fact. It's likely that Logan would rather die than ever admit something like that.

Wade then cleared his throat and began to speak in his best exaggerated Australian accent.

"Crikey mate! Here we have the Wolverine. Best known for its violent tendencies and natural ability to be a complete jackass. When confronted by a stronger and more powerful predator it begins to make the most adorable snorting sounds that are meant as a sign of his submission. Let's listen in, shall we?"

Logan had been belting out uncontrollable snorts all throughout his laughter and it was one of Wade's favorite things to poke fun at him for.

"Shhh-Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup! You're sohohohoho fuhuhucking stuhuhuhupid!"

"Oh, I'm fucking stupid? Who's the one making all the little piggy noises, Wilbur? Speaking of piggies....," Wade smirked as he started to play with his toes again, "This little piggy was an alcoholic....This little piggy was always so mean to his friend, Wade.....This little piggy talked shit about sweet little Dogpool....This little piggy..."

"Fuhuhuhuhuuuck! Alrihihihihight I gihihihive uhuhup! Haahahahaah! No-No mohohohore!" Logan had managed to pull a foot free and was now kicking Wade in the back as hard as he could, which wasn't very hard at all due his weakened state from laughing so much.

"No more? No MORE? Sorry, sweet cheeks. But I've got plenty more," Wade then threw his foot aside as he turned and dove onto Logan's prone form to now attack his very ticklish stomach, "That was for treating me like an object! This is for saying I'm not funny!"

Wade snickered with glee as the feral man expelled a less than manly squeal of giggles and immediately curled into a protective ball, though all attempts to evade were useless. Deadpool was positively relentless.

"Nooooohohohohohoo nohohohot thehehehehere! Okahahaay you're funny! You're fuhuhuhuhuhunnyyyyyaaahahahahahaaStaahahahahahaaap!"

"Oh sure! All of a sudden I'm just magically funny now! Don't insult my intelligence! You can't bullshit a bullshitter!" Wade managed to get his hands underneath Logan's shirt, raking his fingers up and down his bare stomach and forcing him to dissolve into a lengthy, mirthful wheeze.

"Why are you so ticklish? Is it part of your mutation? A result of a Weapon X experiment gone horribly wrong? Talk, damn you! I need answers!"

Not that Wade actually expected him to answer, but Logan was laughing entirely too hard and fighting it even less. He had his head thrown back in hysterics that exposed his oversized canines, writhing feebly while tears were leaking down his reddened cheeks.

It was a sight to see the normally powerful X-man rendered helpless from such a soft touch, but it just goes to prove that healing factors and big muscles were completely useless against a tickle attack.

Wade would have loved to keep tickling him all night, and he knew the man technically could take it with the high amount of stamina he possessed, but it was time to let him go now and save it for another time. Logan had been a good sport, and he didn't want to push it too far.

Pulling his hands back he now stood triumphantly hovering over the still giggling and plastered Wolverine, who kept his body all curled up in case the crazy merc decided to come for him again.

"Are you sure you're the Wolverine of legends? I mean, this isn't exactly what I had pictured. If I hadn't personally seen you in action then I'd have some serious doubts," he smirked as Logan finally relaxed and slowly splayed out on the couch.

"Heehehehe-That's the worst Wolverine to you, bub. You-hehehee-fucking suck," Logan continued to giggle as he struggled to fight off the dizzying high of the combined tickle assault mixed with the alcohol in his bloodstream. Wade was pleased to see he hadn't soured his mood.

"But do I swallow is the real question? Hehehe, sorry, I couldn't help myself. Now did you learn your lesson, you drunken idiot?"

Logan regained some sense of focus as he slowly sat up and looked up at Wade with the most cocky grin.

"Of course not. Gonna take a lot more than that, fucker."

"Do not tempt me, Peanut. I showed you mercy this time, but I cannot guarantee this next round I will be as charitable," Wade smirked and cracked his knuckles, surprised to see Logan lean back onto the couch with his arms folded behind his head.

"Pffft. You don't fuckin' scare me. You can do your worst. Though I'm sorry to say you're not gonna get the chance. Ya wanna know why?"

"Why?" Wade practically demanded with his hands on his hips.

"That's why." Logan lifted a hand to point behind Wade as the merc whirled around to confront what may have got the drop on him and found.....nothing. Nobody.

"Wait a minute.....did I really just fall for the oldest trick in the bo-AAAHCK!" Wade let out a scream as he was pounced from behind by a playfully growling Wolverine and landed hard on his stomach with his face hitting the floor. He had seriously misjudged the other man's current ability to fight back.

"Heheh, you really are a fucking idiot. Now let's see how you like this shit...," Logan immediately dug into Wade's ribs from where he sat perched on his back and was more than thrilled by the scream that ripped out of the merc's mouth. He knew there was no way a loudmouth like Wade wouldn't be ticklish.

"Nohohooo Logan wahahahahaait! Ahahaheeheehehehehe! You cahahahan't tihihihickle meheheee! I'm-I'm the 'ler! Nohohot yooooou!"

"The what? What the hell are ya talkin' about now?" Logan didn't let up though while Wade tried to sputter out an explanation.

"The cohohohommunity! Ihihihit's a thihihiing! I g-guess tehehehechnically I'm a swihihihihitch buhuhuhut stihihill!"

Logan raised his brows, looking more confused than before as he ended up just shrugging it off and shaking his head.

"Nevermind. I really don't wanna know. Now shut up and laugh, asshole," Logan's big hands ran up and down his sides, squeezing his waist and making it back up into his armpits as Wade flailed and shrieked and desperately tried to clamp his arms down.

Logan couldn't help but laugh at Wade's reactions with how he had barely started in on him yet.

"Geez. Have ya really been this fucking ticklish this whole time? Looks like we've got some time to make up for," his fingers fluttered around under Wade's arms, producing wild cackles as he wriggled like a worm and tried to scoot across the floor.

"Get off get off! Nooohahahahahaha! I'm nohohohohot tihihihicklish! I'm nohohohohohohot!"

"Well if you're not ticklish then all this shouldn't be botherin' ya, right? Or do you prefer me stabbin' ya better?" Logan smirked as he used the three middle fingers on each hand to simulate his claws as he repeatedly poked at Wade's ribcage with rapid fire speed, "Hehe, now you're dead."

"Gaahaahahahahaha!! Nohohohohot the clahahahahaws! Mehehehehercy!" Wade begged, trying to reach behind him to smack Logan's hands away. Spoiler alert, it didn't work.

"Mercy? Ha! That's a fuckin' good one. Hey, whaddya know. I guess you are funny after all. Hehehe, tickle tickle tickle, fuckface."

Wade's hysterics were increasing in volume by the second and Logan snorted in amusement at the thought that they might get the cops called on them for a suspected murder happening in the apartment.

"Holy shit. Keep it down, will ya? You're gonna wake the-"

"What in the name of Satan's asshole is that horrible noise?!?!" Blind Al shouted in annoyance as she wandered into the room and nearly tripped over the two men roughhousing on the floor.

"Blind Al! Blind Ahahahahal! Hehehehelp mehehehehe!" Wade screamed as he managed to roll over underneath Logan and reach out a desperate hand towards his elderly roommate.

"You're such a dick. Ya know ya don't have to emphasize that she's blind all the time, ya inconsiderate moron," Logan rolled his eyes with a smile as he now had better access to Wade's ribs and stomach and dug right in.

"Baahahahah-Buhuhuhut thahahat's her nahahahahame! B-Becahahahause she's blihihihind! Gehehehet ihihit?!"

The older woman's lips pursed with disdain.

"Please keep torturing him. I will sleep good tonight knowing that stupid motherfucker is suffering," she gently patted Logan on the shoulder as she turned around and made her way out of the room.

"You got it, boss lady," Logan nodded with a smirk and scratched furiously at Wade's stomach, easily avoiding the flailing hands trying to stop him.

"Blihihihihind Al! Aahahhahahha! You trahahahaahaahaitor! Ahahahafter ahahall I've d-dohohohone for yooohoou!"

"Maybe you could gag his bitch ass too," she yelled back over her shoulder, making Logan chuckle.

"She's got a point. You're loud as fuck. Always makin' fun of how I snort while you're over here shrieking like a fuckin' little girl."

With that, Wade was struck with inspiration as he thought of a way to get Logan to stop.

"Yehehehes! Oh yehehehes Lohohohogan! Dohohohn't stop! Th-Thahahat's ihihihit! Tihihihickle me! Tihihickle mehehehe untihihihil I pahahahass ouhohout!" Wade pretended to moan between his laughs as he put his hands flat against the floor to demonstrate that he had no intention of preventing the tickling, though it was a major struggle for him to keep them there.

Logan tilted his head as he stared down at Wade in bemusement.

"Can't tell if you're tryin' to psyche me out into stopping, or if you really do like it that much. I wouldn't put it past ya to actually enjoy being tickled. Not the weirdest thing about you. Either way, if ya say not stop then I won't," Logan smirked and proceeded to tickle him even harder as he kneaded into his hips.

"Noooooohohohoooo! Okaahahaay! I lihihihied! I cahahahan't tahahahahake it! Pleasepleaseplease stooohahahahoooop!" Wade squealed and kicked his legs around and uselessly tried to grab at the other man's wrists to pry him off.

"Now was that really a lie? Are ya sure it wasn't an educated wish?" Logan loved to bring that stupid shit up every once in a while, knowing it would get under Wade's skin.

"So fuhuhuhunny I forgohohot to lahahahaugh, ahahahasshole! Nohohow gehehet off meeeheeheeheee! You fuhuhuhucking mahahahade yohohohour point!" 

Logan was about to make another quip when he heard loud barking and turned his head to see Dogpool come flying over the back of the couch towards them in superhero slow-motion.

She then rushed in to grab Wade by the hair as she pulled with all of her tiny body weight trying to free him.

"Yehehehes! Mary Puhuhuhuppins! Saahahahave pa-pa! Thaahahahat's it!"

"Yeah.....that dog weighs like eight pounds. Hehehe, don't think you're getting away from me just yet, bub," Logan snickered as he dragged Wade closer and plunged his fingers into his armpits, earning another shriek as the merc futilely clamped his arms down and thrashed even harder.

"Looohohohogaaan staaahahahahahahap! I'm-I'm sohohohohoh glahahad to seeheehee-ahahahahhah-see yohohou ehehehembrace thihihis sss-sihihide of you buhuhuhut-AAAAHH! FUHUHUHUCK!!"

A loud ripping sound was heard as Logan looked up in wonderment to see Wade with a hand gripped to his now bald head as Dogpool stood there with his whole hair piece in her mouth.

Logan couldn't help it. The sight of Wade laying there with those fucking staples sticking out of his head and the dog now gnawing on his toupee like a chew toy was just too comical.

He started to laugh. Really laugh. Laughing too damn hard to keep tickling Wade as he literally fell over, holding his sides while his whole body shook in uncontrollable guffaws.

Wade was finally able to sit up as he glared at his hysterical friend, but he had a smile on his face too.

"Really?! That's what makes you laugh?! You seeing me getting hurt is funny to you? Pretty fucked up, you sado," he pretended to sound annoyed, but really he was anything but. It was rare to see Logan laugh like this besides when Wade was tickling him half to death so he'd let him have this for the moment.

Still he had to strike back somehow for this indignity.

"Puppins attack! Kill, my little munchkin! Kill!" Wade shouted as the dog rushed towards the fallen man and jumped onto him. But Dogpool didn't have a mean bone in her body and only knew how to attack with love as she affectionately licked Logan's face much to his aversion.

"Blech! Wahahade! Gehet your dohohog!" He bellowed as he continued to laugh, but other than trying to shield his face with his arms he didn't do much to stop her.

"Okay okay, come here, sweetie pie. Lets get you away from the bad man who tried to kill your pa-pa," Wade reached over and pulled her off of him, setting her into his lap.

Logan finally fought down the giggles as he sat up to find Wade staring longingly at the destroyed toupee in his hand. He kind of felt bad for the guy and thought he should offer some words of encouragement.

"Yeah, that thing's fucked. Big time. But hey, I think you look better without it," he nodded, using his shirt to wipe off his face as Wade gave him a genuine smile.

"You're only saying that because you're drunk," the merc teased back as Logan shrugged in response and grinned broadly.

"You're probably right. I wouldn't touch ya with a ten foot pole."

"That's okay. I don't mind doing all the touching...," Wade gave him a quick squeeze on the side as Logan snorted and lurched away from his reach and got to his feet.

"Don't fucking start that again. I'd say we're even now. Besides, you don't wanna fuck with me now that I know how damn ticklish you are. It's a stalemate. We can put this all behind us and move on. Now if ya don't mind I'd like to get some sleep," he waved the other man away as he grabbed some blankets off the back of the couch to set up his sleeping area.

Wade just smirked as he began walking out of the room with Dogpool in his arms.

"Silly silly Wolvie. I'm not sure you realize the implications of your actions. But I'm afraid this is far from over. You, my friend, have just started a war."

Logan's face fell as he only stared back at Wade in wide-eyed silence.

"Nighty night, Peanut. Sweet dreams," Wade smirked devilishly, waving with wiggling fingers as he flicked off the light switch on the wall.

[yuyusboyfriend]

Cookies & Cream

pairing: nerd!seonghwa x reader

wordcount: 2,7k

content: your tutor helps himself to the cookies in your bag despite you telling him countless times no, without knowing what they really are.

warnings: nsfw, aphrodisiacs, afab reader (use of words cunt, clit, pussy - no mentions of chest or other gendered terms) dom!reader, sub!seonghwa, use of pet names (baby, love), unprotected sex (wrap it ☝️) mentions of food, mentions of sex toys, blow job, cunnilingus (pussy ATE 🗣), edging, some body worship, lmk if there's anything else

Masterlist!˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You had told Seonghwa that on the way to his dorm for a study session, you'd be picking up snacks to get you through the next few dreaded hours. Not that you dreaded spending time with seonghwa, the boy was a pleasure to look at, big brown eyes smiling at you every time you grasped a concept thanks to his help; the warmth of his body engulfing yours when he leant over you to help with a question.

Okay, that wasn't so much helpful as it was distracting, but you liked it nonetheless. You wondered if Seonghwa had any relationship experience, because of the way he was oblivious to almost every move anyone made on him, and would turn fire engine-red when he heard you talk about anything slightly sexual. From your observations, you had concluded that this man has probably never felt the touch of a lover. Still he was a lovely boy, sweet and innocent,,, it kind of did something for you.

“Did you get me turtle chips?” Seonghwa questioned through the front door.

“No 'hello y/n! You made it! Nice to see you'? What did you do with my sweet seonghwa?” you sighed at him, knowing you bought him both the originals, and the churro version. Pretending to not notice the blush on his cheeks, likely caused by the 'my sweet seonghwa' comment, you strolled passed him till you reached your regular spot on the sofa. You pulled the snacks out one by one, watching the joy on Seonghwa's face as you brought all of his favourites to last him until the next session.

“What's in the tub?” seonghwa eyed the plastic tub you had put bag into your bag after pulling the rest of the drinks out.

“Cookies I made, and before you ask, no you can't have any.” you warn.

Seonghwa pouts like his life depends on it, devastated as he adores home-baked goods, especially the ones you make for him. "Why? Who are they for?? Are you seeing someone after me?” he blurts out a little too desperately.

“Why? You jealous, Hwa?” you smirk at him, watching him turn red once again at your words.

“I'm not jealous! I was… just worried because it'll be late by the time you leave, I don't want you wandering around at night…” he gets quieter with each word.

Ah shit, you feel kind of guilty now. You stood up to walk over to the table where always study together, ruffling his hair as you go. “Oh, Hwa, I'm going straight back home after this, don't worry your sweet little head,” you reassure his worrying.

You hadn't realised your tutor had cared so much about you, before this you didn't even know if he considered you friends. Your stomach fluttered at the idea, knowing that seonghwa didn't have many people he considered friends, you could count them all in one hand.

He huffed and pulled out his chair, handing you the test papers you had filled last session, with red pen markings on it showing you where to improve.

“You did really well, if you keep this up you'll be passing with flying colours. I added a couple suggestions on where you can expand on points, but otherwise, you did an amazing job y/n.” He smiles softly at you, proud that your hard work has been paying off.

After an hour of going over some new material from your classes with him, you decide to take a break to stretch and eat the food you brought. Although, you both had already cleared a bag of turtle chips and a bowl of M&Ms in that time, as well as a bottle of your favourite drink.

“Hwa I'm going to the bathroom, ill be back in a minute” you announced to your friend as you walked down the hallway to his spotless bathroom; you always admired how clean seonghwa was, sometimes he'd even help you with yours when you held study sessions there.

Honestly, seonghwa was still hung up on why you didn't let him eat the cookies in your bag, the clear container told him there was way more than you could eat on your own,,,

Surely—you wouldn't notice if one was missing…right?

The boy looked over to the hallway, listening to the sound of you—fighting the shower curtain? He couldn't tell, but you sounded busy. He turned his head back to your bag and reached in, opening the tub and taking one…must've okay three cookies, stuffing them in his mouth and chewing them as fast as he could. They tasted like heaven, he could tell they were a little different from your regular ones, you must've tried a new recipe? Maybe that's why you were so adamant about him not having any? Whatever it was, it was hardly noticeable, the crispy marshmallows taking over his taste buds. He quite literally moaned at the taste, almost annoyed that he nearly missed out on this.

He washed them down with the strawberry milk he kept stocked and put everything back where it was, just as you walked out of the bathroom.

“Alright, what have we got left?” you looked at the boy standing by his chair.

“Uh, we”, Seonghwa went to answer your question but his brain completely blanked. “We were…” he looked at the table to remember where you had left off, but you had already his noticed is off demeanour.

“Hwa, you good?” you tilted your head at the boy, watching him push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“I'm great y/n! Lets, uh, get back to the work?” he avoided looking in your direction, his body feeling funny - fuck, what did you put in those cookies? He thought.

“Hwa. What did you just say? Did you—Did you eat the cookies I told you not to!?” You started raising your voice at him, more worried about him than anything.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd notice if a few were gone…” he says under his breath, feeling overwhelmingly heavy. His emotions feeling all too strong to the point where he feels a tear rolling down his cheek before he could stop it. His core felt like hot coals, and his skin more painfully tender than he had ever experienced in his life.

"Sit down, I'm gonna get you some water… I know this is a weird question, but are you seeing anybody currently that I can call?" you already knew the answer, but you didn't want to risk it.

"Wh-what? No, I'm not seeing anybody y/n, why would you need to-" He huffed out a groan as his sweatpants grew tighter and rubbed against his swelling hard on.

"Okay, those cookies you just ate? They're aphrodisiac cookies, I hadn't even had a chance to test them out, I was going to when I got home…" you reluctantly looked at Seonghwa's horrified expression, mixed with sweat forming on his brow. You watched as he fidgeted and pulled at his irritating clothing, his hips rutting and bucking subtly against nothing.

"Hwa you wouldn't happen to have any… sex toys, would you? I can go to the pharmacy and pick some up, It's not far." you already start grabbing his spare set of keys and your jacket to leave, if you went now it would only take 8 minutes-

"In the bottom drawer of my desk, can you help me get to my room?" Oh. So he wasn't as innocent as you thought. He reached out for you, barely able to stand by himself now, his legs feeling like they would crumble under his weight. As you wrapped Seonghwa's arm over your shoulder, pulling him up, he pressed his body against yours, resting his head on your shoulder. God, the scent of you was making him harder, barely restraining himself from biting your neck while you walked him to his bedroom.

He slumped into his bed, not waiting any longer to take his shirt off. He wanted to burn the damn thing now, the material felt torturous on his sensitive nipples. You looked at him in awe, his blushing body making your mouth dry and your hands ache to feel him under them.

"Well, I'm gonna go-"

"No."

You looked at him in confusion, seeing his darkened eyes filled with desire, "What do you mean, no?"

"The least you could do is help me...please?"

That's all you needed to jump into his lap and connect your lips. The kiss was filled with desperation, teeth bumping and tongues swirling together, fighting for dominance in your mouths. You grind against his aching cock, dragging a whine from his sweet voice.

"Sweatpants off, now Hwa" need dripping from each word, you didn't have to tell seonghwa twice. He lifted his hips up on the bed, and he pulled them off with your help. You took a moment to take in his figure. He was gorgeous, I mean, you already knew that, but lying here looking so desperate for your touch gave you goosebumps. You wanted to devour him; and you would do just that. You leant down between his legs to his stiff cock, kitten licking his soaked tip.

"Oh fuck," He squirmed under your tongue, hips trying to buck into your mouth for more. You held his hips down as you took him fully to the back of your throat. He cried out sweet whimpers at the feeling of your mouth around his cock, taken away all too quickly as you came back up for air. He didn't have to suffer for too long, though, as you formed a steady rhythm with your hand.

"I'm gonna cum y/n it feels too good," tears rolled down his reddened cheeks.

You took his cock out of your mouth with a pop, "love, we just started, I can't have you cumming that quickly now, can I?" untying the string of your own sweats, pulling them down with your underwear, exposing your bottom half to seonghwa. His member twitching and leaking at just the sight of you.

"You're my tutor, shouldn't you be helping me, hm? Why don't you let me sit on your face, and you can show me how to make someone cum, baby?"

Hwa had a habit of swiping his tongue against his lip when he was thinking, or doing anything and fuck, he was so sexy about it. It fuelled so many wet dreams and solo sessions, you couldn't wait to feel it in action.

God, he did not disappoint. He swiped his tongue across your soaking cunt, swirling around your swollen clit. You cried out at the sensations of him ravaging you as you stimulated your clit on the tip of his nose, while he fucked your starving hole with his long tongue. It didn't take long for the pressure in the pit of your stomach to build, you barely had time to warn seonghwa before you came on his tongue. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and rocked your hips against his face as you rode out your high.

You admired his fucked out face, your arousal still across his mouth and nose, and leaned over to kiss him again. “Okay, it's only fair you have your turn Hwa, ready baby?”

He could only whine out your name and beg for you to fuck him, he was so ethereal in this state. You couldn't wait to see him cum. As you sank down on his cock, he sat up and gripped your hips so hard it would leave marks he wanted to worship after. Once you bottomed out, you stayed there, letting seonghwa adjust to the feeling. He pulled your shirt over your head and kissed your skin, scattering hickeys across your chest.

"Fuck you're so tight y/n, please move," he keeps his hands on you trying to roll your hips against him.

"And you're such a needy boy, should've listened to me when I told you not to eat those cookies, hm?" you cooed at the boy looking into glossy eyes, before lifting yourself up and slamming back down, ripping the loudest moan yet out of seonghwa. You kept a slow, steady pace, teasing and punishing seonghwa for this very avoidable situation, more so because you worried that this would be the last time on his cock. Fuck he was perfect, he filled you so much better than your exes', hitting all the spots you never knew you needed.

But, He couldn't take much more of the pace and took it into his own hands, flipping you on your back and lifting your legs over his shoulders to put you in a mating press. Once he had you like that you knew you were done for. His hips slammed into your cunt, making your jaw drop, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. The way he pounded you deliciously had you seeing stars, Your groans just short of screams; not so much because you didn't need to but for his neighbours' sake, although you were already expecting to hear about a complaint in the morning anyway.

"fuck, fuck y/n you feel so good," He huffed out a series of thank-yous and sweet nothings into your skin, worshipping your pussy like he was willing to die for it.

He picked up his pace, thrusting just as deep, and you knew you wouldn't be able to last much longer, by the looks on his face he was right there with you. You cried out again when he moved his hand to your clit, circling with his thumb at the same pace as he was dipping into your cunt, your orgasm just on the edge.

"Y/n I'm gonna cum I can't-" was all he could get out before you clenched tightly around his cock, your own orgasm beating his. He pressed his hips down into your cunt, his cum filling you, leaking out from your hole. He rocked in and out once more before finally, and reluctantly, pulling out, watching his cum leak out of you.

Once he had helped you clean up and changed the bedsheets, you started looking for your scattered clothes to go home, you didn't know how to face seonghwa, guilt rushing back through your veins.

"Where you going?" seonghwa looked at you from the bed with sad eyes.

"well you know, I thought- I thought I should…." you mumbled.

"Come back, I'm not done yet…and I'm cold…" seonghwa smiled sweetly, pulling the blanket back for you to get in with him. With a sigh of relief, you picked up one of his hoodies he had left on the back of his desk chair and pulled it over your head before climbing into bed with seonghwa. As soon as you were under the covers his arms wrapped tightly around you, slipping his hands under the hoodie.

"Are you okay with this? I mean, is it okay that I like you as more than a tutee? Seonghwa softly admitted into your neck as he held you closer, rubbing circles into the small of your back. His breathing against your neck gave you goosebumps, you wouldn't ever want to leave his arms if it was an option.

"You like me? Wow Hwa, you're trying to take advantage of your student" you teased, but not for long when he looked at you pouting. Instead of answering with your words, you pressed your lips to his once again, taking your time to enjoy feeling his soft lips and the way that you fitted together like two pieces of a puzzle. You fiddled with the hair that reached his nape pulling a satisfied hum from seonghwa.

You pulled away to look into his pretty eyes, "So, tell me more about the toys in the draw?"

AHHH this took ages ,,,,, I deleted like 1000 words and started over bc I wasn't happy with it but now! It is done!!!!!!!! Who next......

also not proof read so sorry for any mistakes !

[satorusugurugurl]

The Best Money Can Buy!

Summary: Marie’s Summer Fest prompt: wine tasting

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, aphrodisiac, smut, unprotected smut, creampies, multiple rounds

Word Count: 3,371

A/N: Thanks for the request, Nonnie! I can totally see Gojo doing something like this! I love me a bottle of white wine! Yummy!!

You loved wine; everyone in your friend group knew that. If it was your birthday, you got at least one bottle of wine from either Shoko or Nanami because Gojo, your sweet boyfriend, didn’t know a lot about wine. He didn’t like the taste of alcohol and was a lightweight. He had little experience knowing what wine to buy, so he usually let the professionals handle it.

Until you started moaning at the white wine Nanami had gotten for you. Your eyes rolled back at the taste, and your head leaned back as you sipped on the glass. Of course, your boyfriend was jealous. You should only make those sounds for him, not some inanimate object (other than your toys). Despite lacking the experience, Satoru decided to buy the best wine he could find!

Of course, he bought the most expensive wine he could find, and what better place to get it than Italy itself?

“Baby!” Satoru from the kitchen. “I’m home!”

From the bedroom, you ran into the kitchen, watching as your boyfriend placed three bottles on the counter—wine bottles, to be exact. Excitement swelled inside your chest as you hid the green, huge bottles with labels written in a foreign language, which meant they were your souvenirs from his latest mission.

“Three bottles of wine from Italy for my beautiful, wonderful, amazing girlfriend!” Gojo excitedly announced, motioning towards them. “Three different vineyards, all stupidly expensive for the average person but mere pocket change for me.”

“Welcome home, Toru!” You wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing him deeply against his lips. “Thank you! You are the sweetest ever!”

His lips pressed against yours before he trailed kisses up your cheeks to the top of your head before placing the wine bottle opener in your hand.

“Anything for you, sweetheart? What do you want to try first, red or white?”

“Satoru, it’s eleven in the morning.”

“So? A little day drinking never hurt anyone.”

He had a point there, and it wasn’t every day that your handsome boyfriend brought you home wine straight from Italy. Snatching the bottle opener out of his hand, you ignore the triumphant chair from your boyfriend as you walk around the kitchen island. Gojo watched you gracefully maneuver yourself around the condo, grabbing a couple of glasses from the cabinets as you opened the bottles, allowing the wine to breathe, whatever that meant. You look so pretty in the summer morning light, and your concentration centers on pouring the wine into the glasses. God, how the hell did he get so lucky?

No matter how mundane your task was, it always left him smiling like an idiot. He said happily, propping his chin on his hand as he watched you bring the first bottle of wine to your lips, sipping the red liquid. Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed, humming erotically. From those sounds you made, you enjoyed his wine more than Nanami’s. That left him with an immense sense of pride as you took a sip of water, cleansing your pallet before picking up the second glance and taking another sip. Another moan left your mouth as you swirled the white wine inside the glass.

“Toru—“ you mewled, “These are so good!” You sighed before picking up your water again and taking another sip.

“Only the best for my baby.” Your boyfriend motions towards the third glass of wine. “Try the last one and tell me what you think of it. I want to know which one is your favorite so I can order you a whole crate full of it.”

Gojo watched in anticipation of your thoughts on the third and final glass, waiting to hear the soft moans that resonated from your mouth. But those soft, sweet sounds never left your mouth. All he heard was a puzzled hum. His eyes peaked towards you, watching your face twist with confusion. Your pretty lips smacked together before you swirled the wine in the glass, taking a larger sip.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, straightening his back as you sipped another glass of the third wine and sipped it. “Does it taste weird?”

“It’s uhm—“ you cringed, you actually cringed as you took another drink, “extremely bitter.”

“Bitter?” Gojo glances at the bottles, frustration clear on his face. “I asked for the best. And if it’s bitter, why the hell do you keep drinking it?”

You down the rest of the glasses shiver, running down your spine before you pour yourself a glass from the second bottle. “I’ve tasted plenty of wine but never had one like that.” Pouting down in his chair as you leaned over the counter, you gave him a big kiss on the lips. “But the other two are probably the best wine I’ve ever had in my entire life. Thank you so much for spoiling me, baby.”

The sulking abruptly stopped as your words left, Satoru feeling like he was on cloud nine. It made him happy hearing how much you enjoyed it. It was the perfect way to start his first evening back at home. It was an evening that was sure to be filled with laughter and snuggles, and the evening started just that way. Snuggling you on the couch as a movie played on the television. It was a perfect evening until Satoru noticed how hot your body was, and he didn’t mean by how attractive you were

Your body was burning up like you had a fever. You were shifting, and a sweat began beating over your forehead. Maybe the room was too warm. However, if that were the case, wouldn’t he be sweating, too?

He brushed it off and the fact that you were wearing leggings. But as more time passed, the sweatier you shifted and fanned yourself. That seemed to do nothing for you as you sat up, pulling your T-shirt up over your head, throwing it to the ground, and frustration as you pressed your thighs together. Your face flushed as you groaned out of annoyance before you got up, rushing for the thermostat to check the temperature.

“Why the fuck is it so hot in here?!” It was set at a comfortable seventy-five degrees. “What’s going on?” You peered over your shoulder at Gojo, who wasn’t sweating. “Are you hot?”

From the rage burning in your eyes, your boyfriends decided to reply with ‘Yeah, I’m super fuckin hot’ with a wink was not the smartest approach. “I’m comfortable, baby.”

“Ugh!” You yanked your leggings down, kicking them off and across the room. “What the hell is wrong with me?! What kind of wine was that last one? It was a rosè, was it?”

“No, of course not; I know you have a mild allergy to that kind.”

“Then what kind of wine is it, Toru?”

In a rush of panic for your safety, Satoru quickly grabbed the bottle, eyes roaming over the label in Italian, a language he didn’t speak. Luckily, he could quickly take a picture of the label and translate it with the help of the internet. With a few taps of his phone, he could discover what wine he had mindlessly bought for you.

“Alright, so it’s a white wine—which you’re not allergic to! Bottled in 1989, an amazing yeah, I made my appearance then!” The nearly demonic growl from you made him clear his throat as he kept reading off his screen. “It’s also a—oh—oh fuck.” Blinking his eyes didn’t change what he was reading like he’d hoped it would.

“It’s a what?”

Satoru’s face fell as he nervously laughed. “It’s uhm—it’s a popular aphrodisiac.” Gojo grimaced as he saw pure hot rage flicker in your eyes. “I swear baby, I had no—!!”

“Take off your pants.”

Your blunt request had your boyfriend staring blankly at you. “I bed your pardon?” He questioned as you stepped forward, clearly not fucking around.

“I said, take off your pants.” your underwear was swiftly tucked down and tossed to the side, along with the rest of your clothing. “Did you hear me that time? Or do I need to repeat myself a third time?”

“N-No, sweetheart!” From the sheer fear, Gojo practically teleported his pants off. The second he was in nothing but his boxers and t-shirt, you were dragging him to the bedroom.

Minutes bleed into hours, and Gojo wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The only thing he was confident of was that he was as sweaty as you were, and he hadn’t had any of the aphrodisiac wine. Sweat beaded at his forehead, slowly running down to his neck. He looked at you through pale eyelashes as you dug your nails into his pale skin, adding to the collection of red crescent moon indents that littered his flawless skin. And remove you made in every roll of your hips left his cock begging for mercy. It was overly sensitive, and it was getting to the point that it was almost sore from overuse. You were testing to see if he was indeed ‘the strongest’ in every sense of the word.

But when you frantically ground your hips down on him, he wasn’t feeling very strong at all. “Fuck!” The pain, pleasurable tone of his voice echoed within the bedroom, along with the sound of the creaking bedframe. “B-Baby! Love of my life, I’m begging you to please let me—nngh!!” You’re slamming down on him, silencing any further words left his mouth.

“Shh~! I-I’m—” You tilted your head back with a shuddering sigh, “I’m close again!” Pale brows knitted together as Satoru bucked his cock into your weeping cunt.

His cock twitched as your wet walls hugged him tight, refusing to let him go, squeezing him for all he was worth. There wasn’t much left. Feeling him twitching inside your heart flipped a switch in your brain, telling your hips, which were sore and stiff, to move even faster. Before you knew it, the grinding had turned into you slamming yourself up and down on Gojo’s cock as hard as you could, drawing out a whimper from the man beneath you.

In this position, your clit rubbed perfectly against his crotch, driving you over the edge. When your walls started convulsing around his poor overused cock, Satoru somehow mustered some of his remaining strength to grab hold of your hips, his long fingers digging into your flesh as he madly began thrusting up into you. His sudden burst of energy had flipped the tables, leaving you a whimpering mess above as he snarled dominantly below you. Much like Gojo, your pussy was screaming in protest, every nerve burning with overstimulation. Those whimpers, the intense contractions of your walls, had your boyfriend spilling whatever cum he had left inside of you. Giving you everything he had to offer.

“Fuck—fuuuck—” he moaned out as you pulled your hands away from his chest. “I’m going to be shooting blanks here pretty soon if you keep this up, sweetheart.”

“Mm.”

A pained nervous chuckle sounded from his throat as you pulled yourself off of his cock. Were you finally done? Have the effects of the aphrodisiac finally worn off after eight rounds of sex?

“Oh, thank—nngh!” Tears welled in his cerulean eyes as he threw his head back. His pupils the size of pin-pricks as you put yourself in reverse cowgirl before you slammed yourself back onto his twitching cock.

The sound of his breathless, shaky gasps with music to your ears as his hands groped the fat of your ass, massaging it as you began bouncing yourself up and down on his shaft. Your hands rested on his knees, allowing you to keep your balance. You pushed yourself up for a second before slamming back down, your wet pussy singing happily as you rocked. Satoru was making his music, a symphony of grunts, moans, and huffs of breath as he watched you riding him as if he were your favorite dildo.

Which he didn’t mind.

“Oh fuck, fuck yes, baby!” Despite how sensitive his cock was, Satoru was getting a second wind, eager to please you more. “Ride it~; throw it back, baby.”

Well, your boyfriend was catching his second wind. You were finally starting to feel as though the aphrodisiac was wearing off. Your legs were tired, your back was stiff, and you were fairly certain that you couldn’t take much more of this. You gave his knees a tight squeeze before your movements came to a halt. Gojo took note of the way that your thighs were trembling and how your soft whimpers became more like pained whines.

“Ooh baby,” he cooed, sitting up, grabbing your ass tighter. “Are you tired, baby?” When you just nodded, Gojo hummed. “Poor baby~ do you want me to take over?” Another weak nod. “Okay baby, I got you, no worries. Get into position.”

Without a word, you got onto your hands and knees, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who grinned almost wickedly. “Like this?” Gojo growled, grabbing your ass and spreading your cheeks so he could stare at your twitching pussy leaking cum onto the bed sheets.

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” He smacked his cock against your ass before lining it up with your entrance. “You want it?”

“Yes.”

“You really want it?”

“Yes, please! I fucking need it, Toru! Please, I—gaaahk!” You gritted out as his long cock was shoved inside of you, stretching out your walls, pushing deeper inside of you than you were able to reach before. “Ahh—nngh! T-Toru!”

“Oooh fuck baby~just like that sweetheart!” The palm of his hand connected with your ass in an echoing smack. “You’re taking my cock so good! You’re such a good girl!”

What happened to the man who was whimpering and moaning underneath you a few minutes prior? You thought he would be done after the last round; you would just be milking him one last time before you both passed out from overexertion. This feral version of your boyfriend was something you could get used to.

From the way his hand continued to smack you on the ass to the dirty words that left his smooth pretty lips, you couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, you just gripped the sheets with both hands, clutching them for dear life. As you moaned and answered every question, he asked if he felt deep enough. Or if he wanted him to come inside for the ninth time that night. He also asked if you were comfortable or if it was too much for you to handle. Usually, it would’ve been. But thanks to the aphrodisiac he had accidentally bought, your stiff muscles were the only thing you could complain about.

“Mmmm.”

“Fuck I love you so much! I’m sorry I accidentally drugged you with an aphrodisiac.” he planted kisses down your spine, his fingers gently massaging the sting out of your ass from his latest slaps. “But I’m also glad this happened. Because I got to spend the evening with you like this.”

“Satoru!” You cried it out as he laid his bare chest flush against your back. “Kiss me!”

When it came to you, you never needed to ask him for a kiss. Before you could sigh, Satoru’s mouth was on yours and a searing kiss. His hand gripped your chin and tilted your head to the side, deepening it. As his tongue gently massaged his hips, ground against your ass, pushing himself deeper inside of you until his tip was kissing your cervix.

Satoru growled into your mouth, eyes opening just an inch to watch your eyebrows twitch with pleasure as you struggled to kiss him in between soft little moans. Seeing that expression, only him seeing such a cute look on your face, had him more than eager to continue to pleasure you. The slow grinding turned into a full, deep thrust as he pulled himself out completely before pushing back in. Your walls eagerly clenched around him, welcoming the change of pace.

“Haaah, oh my god, fuck!” Satoru mewled out against your kiss, swollen lips. “Holy shit, I love you—I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“Nngh, agh~ hngh! I-I love you too, Toru!”

Even though he hadn’t had any of the aphrodisiacs himself, he felt a burning desire deep in his stomach. One that was not fueled by a chemical but by his love and adoration for you. Those pure, raw emotions had his lips against yours and another furious kiss.

“T-Toru—!!” you tried to warn him, but the rough thrust caused every word to leave your mouth and brain as you only found yourself capable of moaning.

“Good girl~ give me baby girl, give it all to me!” your walls constructed around his cock as your legs began to shake. “Fu-Fuck baby, yes, yes—g-gonna!!”

From the heat in the room to the feel of you coming around him, Gojo had been doomed from the start. He slammed himself fully inside of you. His balls slapped loudly against your ass as he spilled above you with a roar of pleasure. The fuzzy oxytocin that pumped through your veins made it almost impossible to register your boyfriend's orgasm aside from the warmth of his cum that filled you.

You blinked slowly, your heart rate slowing down, allowing you to listen to the bed shift as your Satoru pulled out, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Each blink of your eyes almost seemed to make time fast. One second, you felt Satoru rub at the small of your back before you blinked, watching him leave the room. The next time you opened your eyes, you watched as he stood above you, rubbing a warm, damp rag over your skin, cleaning you up between your legs.

The warmth of his hands and the gentleness of his touch lulled you to a light sleep. You probably would have slept more if he hadn’t gently rubbed circles against your shoulders and drawn you out of your slumber. The second your pretty eyes locked on him, Satoru felt as if his heart was being squeezed inside his chest.

He didn’t say anything as he handed you a bottle of water. The unspoken request was loud and clear. You took it greedily, gulping down the liquid, using the dry burn in your throat. You kept swallowing down the water until it was empty. Without so much as a word, you snuggled into your boyfriend‘s chest, humming contently as he wrapped his strong arms around you. All the while, his hands gently rubbed up and down your spine, easing the stiffness that formed in it.

He stayed like that, embracing each other until Gojo pulled his head back an inch to stare down at you. “You doing okay there, sweetie?”

“Mhm, I’m a little sore, but I’ll survive.”

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

“Not right now. I want to stay in your arms a little bit longer.”

Satoru pressed his lips against your head as he tightened his grip around you. “Alright, sweetness, just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll carry you there.” You nuzzled your face into his side with a pleased moan.

“I will,” you whispered, “I love you, Toru.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Gojo Satoru might not know much about wine, but he knew how to love you unconditionally. That was worth more than any overly expensive wine his money could buy. Because the love Gojo had for you was priceless.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

Summer Fest Tag List:

@typicalife-101

[mauvecherie-writes]

a win and ruined sheets: j.koundé

pairing: jules koundé x black!reader

summary: months apart had the both of you acting out of character for each other.

content tags: 18+ NSFW, MDNI, established relationship, fluff, google translated french, sexual content, oral sex [f receiving], unprotected sex, mild dirty talk.

ru’s 💌: finally a full written smut Jules scene lmao. It’s been a long time coming. this is for my Jules girlies especially @hopefulromantic1 and @queenshikongo3 [Serena you’ll see one part specifically for you, you’ll know when you see it 😉.] please comment, reblog and like 💋.

tip: kofi | paypal

w.c: 2.4K

A bright smile spread across his face when he walked further into his suite and you were there. Dressed in nothing but his Barcelona jersey and a pair of ‘Hot Girl’ bootie shorts. Your coiled curls sat in a high puff on your head with a scarf around your edges.

On your face was a smile that eclipsed his.

“Mon cœur!” [my heart] He exclaimed as he dropped his bags and opened his arms. You had already jumped off from the couch where you had been residing as you watched the highlights of the match against Austria. He played well throughout the entirety of the match and you couldn’t be more proud of your boyfriend. Representing his country on the world stage was something Jules was proud of and despite the fact you were unable to be there on the stands because of another commitment due to your job, as soon as you were done, you hopped on the first flight to Germany to be with him now.

You dove into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist. The two of you tightly held onto each other. You buried your face into his neck and sniffed in his scent. He smelt like the Shea butter scented body wash you had bought for him months ago because you thought his old one contradicted his cologne too much. Jules secured his arms around your waist as he walked back to the sitting area and dropped us back on the couch which caused you to giggle.

You took your head out of the crook of his neck and cupped his cheeks and smiled at him.

“Hi, my baby. I’m so proud of you.” You gleamed up at him with the love reflecting in your eyes as you held his gaze. Jules sighed in content as he smiled and pecked your lips, humming softly as your thighs shifted to his waist.

“Merci, mon amour.” [thank you my love] He replied. “I wish you had been there but I’m so happy you’re here now. My heart is beating so fast now that you’re in my arms.” His words warmed your cheeks and you didn't stop the giggle that left your lips.

“I got on the first flight that I could so I would be with you tonight. Did you have any plans with the team to celebrate?” You asked as you played with the locks.

“Yeah the team had plans but I don’t care for them now. Would much rather spend time with you.”

“I like the sound of that.” You smirked at him. They haven’t been with each other physically in four months. An entirely too long of a distance as unfortunately, their jobs kept them apart. Nights full of sexting and phone sex could never replace the real connection the both of you share.

“Why don’t we order some room service and I light up some candles and we celebrate in our own way.” You smiled at him as you played with the pendant of his chain. Jules smirked as he squeezed your thigh.

“I like the sound of that.” He threw your phrase back at you which causes you to laugh. With one last kiss, you will yourself you pull away from him. As you freshened up, Jules had ordered room service, a full platter of your favourite dishes along with a couple of bottles of expensive champagne. The both of you had undressed and adorned your bodies in the lush white hotel robes as you shared the food and drink.

However, Jules kept you close. Never letting you stray away from him. He kept you in between his legs, his hands around your waist as he placed kisses along your neck.

“Four months away from each other.” He mumbled into your ear. “Ne faisons plus jamais ça." [Let’s never do that again.] He whispered in your ear.

“I promise baby.” You replied, giggling as you felt his lips tug on your ear. Since knowing Jules, you had taken it upon yourself to learn how to speak French as that was the language that he communicated with the most so you felt it imperative to also know the language.

“Tu m'as tellement manqué." [I missed you so much.] The words left your mouth as you turned your body and you placed your hand on his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He moaned into your mouth as you sucked on his tongue as you pressed your body into his.

“Tu m'as manqué aussi.” [I missed you too.] He mumbled into your mouth as Jules’s hand came to the ties of your robe and pulled them apart. The fabric falls away from your body, exposing your voluptuous breasts to his greedy eyes.

“Touch me.” You whispered. Jules didn’t need any more instruction as his large hand covers your breast and pinches your nipple in between his fingers as he kneads the flesh. The kissing becomes heavier as you moan into his mouth. Each sound, a plea for him to do more.

Always the giver, Jules turned the positions of your body so that you were lying beneath him. You smile at him as he pulls the robe away from your body as he discards his before joining you once again on the bed. As he hovered above you, you trailed your fingers on his chest, scratching the soft hairs on his sternum.

He leaned down and captured your lips. The press of his body on yours, had you parting your legs wider as you whimpered into his mouth as his tongue passionately entangled with yours. As his body was slotted in between yours, moaning as you felt his heavy dick pressed against you. Your arousal built up even more as Jules began to subtly rub himself against you.

But it didn’t take long for Jules to find himself situated in between your legs, following the path to your haven with a trail of kisses. He placed your legs onto his shoulders as he wasted no time diving in. Your hands shot up and gripped onto the headboard of the bed she sucked on your clit oh so sweetly. Your hips took a mind of their own and rolled them back and forth into his mouth.

The sweep of his tongue against your sensitive bud was like a branding to your soul. You had missed his mouth on you so much and Jules was taking it. You moved one hand from the headboard to his thick locks and gripped on them.

He continued sucking on your clit harder, biting on it for stimulation before soothing it with a lick as his fingers prodded at your entrance. He started a new rhythm of his fingers and tongue on your pussy. Your eyes roll to the back your head as your thighs spasm around his head.

“Oh fuck! Jules!” You exclaimed as he sucked in your clit harder, thrusting his fingers faster inside of you, curling them so that they brushed on our sweet spot every time.

“Oh my god!” You screamed as Jules spanked the side of your thigh as the rush of your orgasm spread through your body. Stars exploded behind your eyes as your body convulsed and you almost blacked out from the intensity of your orgasm. Your hands caressed his hair as you rode out the waves of your high that were still wrecking your body.

Jules placed his hands on either side of your waist, bringing his own body to hover above yours. In between your legs, you could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh.

The desire was palpable between you. From your very first time with Jules, the both of you knew that you would be addicted to each other. These four months were the longest you’d even been apart since the beginning of your relationship so the need to feel him was strong.

He parted your legs and you got up to your elbows and searched for his lips. He drove his hand into your curls as he kissed you deeply. You slowly fell back onto the bed, your hands pressed onto his chest before sliding down to his abs and finally circling his waist.

Jules rubbed his dick against your entrance and you squirmed as you tried to angle your hips, feeling impatient - now wasn’t the time to tease you. Your eyes locked as you wrapped your fingers around his girth, pulling his dick towards you until his tip pierced through your opening.

The both of you gasped as he slid into you, deeper and deeper with every inch. Your hands grabbed ahold of his forearms as you adjusted yourself to his size. It didn’t matter how wet or how relaxed you were, his thickness took some time getting used to.

“Fuck, bébé. J'ai besoin de bouger.” [Babe. I need to move.] He whispered.

“I’m okay. Please move.”

You met him stroke for stroke, lifting your hips every time that he came down. He was slow, taking his time but you could tell that he was holding back by how tense his muscles were beneath your touch.

Suddenly, he pulled out of your heat.

“Jules?” You sounded confused but any question was left stuck in your throat when he wrapped his arms around your thighs and placed his mouth on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out in ecstasy as your back arched off the bed. His tongue rapidly lashed against your sensitive bud as you rolled your hips into his mouth, riding him. One hand came down and grabbed onto his thick locks, moaning as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Jules! Oh g— uuuhhh!” You whined as your grip on his head tightened as you were about to come. Then he pulled away and thrusted back into you, the force of it taking your breath away. He kissed you wildly and passionately which caused you to gush around his dick as you tasted your sweetness that resided on his lips.

He dropped his head into the crevice of your neck as he hiked one of your legs into the bent of his elbow as he began to piston his hips into your body. You tried to meet the command of his thrusts but he was pressing you down, leaving you helpless as you took it all.

“This pussy is so good, fuck.” Jules groaned into your ear. The sounds of your skin slapping echoing across the room as his thrusts rattled your body.

“ Tu es si profond, bébé.” [You’re so deep, baby.] You knew that Jules loved it when you spoke to him in french especially when he was deep inside of you, wreaking havoc in your core. You bit onto your lip as you felt his kisses trail down from your jawline to your chest before he took a nipple into his mouth.

“Jules!” You whimpered his name as you felt yourself tightening up once more. “Baby. I’m gonna come!” You squealed as he bit down on your hardened nipple before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Give it to me bébé. Come on my dick.” His hair fell over your faces like a curtain, shielding your expressions just for him to witness. Sweat shimmered on his skin, dampening his forehead and eyebrows. The contracting of your cunt around caused him to groan as his eyes lost focus of your face before he closed them.

You tangled your hands into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. However, before your lips could even meet, your body seized as your bubble finally burst.

“Fuuuccckk, that’s it bébé. Drench me just like that.” His voice hoarse and his accent sounded thicker which prolonged your orgasm. He looked down at where your bodies were connected and moaned at the sight of your cream collecting at the base of his dick.

Your legs were in the air with your feet pointed towards the ceiling as Jules’s hands were on either side of your head with his chains dangling in your face.

“I missed this sweet pussy.” He told you. “C'est ma chatte, n'est-ce pas.” [It’s my pussy isn’t it.] His strokes became faster and faster until the bed was rocking and the headboard was knocking against the wall.

“It’s your pussy. Only yours.” Your words are like a shot of adrenaline for him as they cause him to pound into you harder. Your hands came to his neck and pulled him down to suck his bottom lip into your mouth.

“Right there baby!” You gasped, your mouth falling open into a silent moan. You were about to come again. Your eyes widened as your pupils dilated - the words falling short as your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Come with me baby. Just one more.” Jules panted as he brought one hand to your hips and held onto you as he worked himself in and out of your pussy.

You screamed his name as he did yours - his body convulsing on top of you. You felt his come shoot deep inside of you and you hummed in satisfaction as he filled you up.

He fell into your arms and you wrapped them around his shoulders as his moved underneath your body and hugged you. Your bodies were still joined in your moment of peace as you placed a kiss on the side of his forehead. He turned his head so that his chin was on your sternum as he met your eyes.

“I hope that’s not your only round for the night.” He commented which caused you to playfully roll your eyes.

“You made me come like three times. Give me a few minutes, not all of us have stamina like you.”

“Maybe if you came to the gym with me-.”

“Annndd lady-boner gone.” You tried moving from him but Jules just pulled you back, squealing as you did as he attacked you with kisses. The both of you rolled in the ruffled sheets until you were above him.

Your core was pressed against his hardening dick. You bit your lip as your arousal began building up just from the way that he was looking at you. He smirked as he could feel your wetness begin to soak him.

“Is your lady-boner back?” Jules asked as he sat up and wrapped his arm around your waist. With one hand on his chin and with the other, you reached in between your bodies and held onto his dick, aiming his tip for your entrance.

“Just shut up and kiss me…”

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @emjayewrites @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @lettersofgold @henneseyhoe

[sixosix]

'cat' the son | itoshi rin

( a/n ) when i came back the poll was 50/50 so i got bribed and it’s now decided that rin is the winner + little highschool au bc we all know they dropped out:/ idk what to title this im ngl

there’s a cat on the sidewalk.

you have about six dollars in your hand, a faltering mission to treat yourself to a cold drink, and an aching heart at the sight of the little animal seated like a king on concrete, looking up at you with blank eyes.

its dark fur and near-teal eyes remind you of someone. of a back facing your seat, dark hair always kept neat and looking like it’s conditioned meticulously, and the sharpest eyes you have ever seen on a high schooler.

it has been a long day, long enough for you to have stormed out of the room as soon as classes ended to rush to the nearest shop that would sell what you��re craving. alas, there is a cat on the sidewalk, and you can’t just ignore it.

“stay here, kitty,” you say before rushing off with the six dollars in hand and a new goal to head straight to the nearest sign with an animal cardboard cutout printed on it.

eventually, you find one; eventually, you come out of the store holding cat food and a tiny cat bowl because you were worried about letting the cat eat straight from the can. it’s baby blue with little fishes added as design, though you think it’s rather gruesome to put that there, considering the canned food you bought is made from fish. still, you hope the cat will appreciate it.

the cat is still there as if it’s understood and blessed you with patience. the unimpressed look it has on its face says otherwise, though. grateful, you kneel beside it, slightly mesmerized by the fact that it hasn’t run away yet.

maybe other people are feeding it, too? it doesn’t look worryingly thin. needs a little cleaning, but looks well-fed. you’re relieved.

“here you go,” you coo, ignoring the strange looks of the passersby. you place the bowl down and crack open the can. the smell has the cat walking over, meowing all crankily. “i know, i know.”

the cat doesn’t dig in until you’ve finished shaking off its contents, staring at you in the same way the itoshi guy in your class would. the resemblance is uncanny.

you spend the rest of your afternoon keeping the cat company. its face speaks as if it’s far from amused, but the way it rubs against your ankle contradicts it.

cute. the cat is cute.

another student comes to visit the cat, carrying two cans of cat food. it’s been sitting in the plastic for a little while because as he had been going in the same routine he usually has, he spots you, his classmate, bent to the knees next to his cat, and paused.

rin thinks you’re scared of him because everyone in the class is. he lets you have your moment, choosing to come back later when you’ve finished so you don’t freak out and scare the cat. he thinks he can strike up a conversation tomorrow where there are no cats to frighten.

the cat walks up to him, instantly familiar. he doesn’t even meow up at rin impatiently, which confirms rin’s suspicions.

“y/n fed you well,” he mumbles. “i guess you can have this tomorrow.”

you’re suddenly all too aware that rin sits in front of you. he’s right there, uniform stretched over his broad back, most likely because he’s the prodigy of soccer in your school.

the neatness of his hair reminds you of the cat from yesterday, with its silky dark fur despite being a stray. you resist the urge to touch it, missing the cat already. you make a mental note to refill your water bottle so the cat can drink after.

while left thinking about the fact that you’re three dollars shorter than yesterday's budget, you fail to notice that class has ended and rin has his arm slung over the top of his chair to turn to look at you.

rin’s eyes flicker down to the paper bag next to your feet. “what’s that for?”

startled by the smoothness of his voice directed at you, you choke out a: “t-this?” you gesture lamely at the bag containing the gruesome bowl.

“what else am i referring to?”

you scrunch your nose. “okay, no need to be so rude. maybe i won’t tell you what it is.”

rin stares, and you’re intensely reminded of piercing eyes looking up at you, patiently waiting for the canned tuna.

“it’s a cat bowl,” you murmur, defeated.

“cat bowl,” he repeats, a gleam in his eye. he probably thinks you’re weirder than he already thinks you are.

“for a stray. i don’t want to bring it around because some other cat owner might steal it. i can’t have that.”

“show me,” he demands.

a little terrified by the fact that the class grump is actively maintaining a conversation with you; you obediently show him the bowl, spinning it around to show all sides. rin hums, contemplative. your classmates are starting to stare. “it’s weird, right? fishes for the print and fishes for dinner. do you like it?”

“lukewarm.”

“what does that even mean?”

“it’s too small. buy a new one.”

“...you think?”

rin nods, standing up. the chair screeches while he says, “i’ll come with you.”

this is how you end up in the same pet supply store with a companion this time. rin picks the most expensive one for the bowl and the canned cat food, which makes you think he must really like cats a lot.

but as you two leave the store, you belatedly realize he’s leading the way even though you never told him anything about the stray you meet.

it doesn’t hit you until the same cat meows and purrs at rin, rubbing against his pants with its entire body.

“hi,” rin says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you gape. “wait, the cat’s yours?”

rin bends down, knees to his chest while he sets the bowl down and cracks the can open with one finger. “no. dad’s allergic. he doesn’t follow me back home anyway.” while he does that, the cat comes to greet you, and your heart aches on rin’s behalf.

so he just comes to feed him every day, huh… you muse, gently scratching the cat who purrs at your attention but still looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“do you have a name for him?”

rin pauses, having finished pouring everything. “...no.” he squints at you as if you’ve just asked him the exact coordinates of his birthplace: sincerely confused.

“what do you call him, then?” you watch as the unnamed cat starts digging down on the food, content. you wonder why no one else has already kept this cat to themselves. he’s so cute and polite.

“cat.”

“ah, of course.”

you two watch ‘cat’ eat, content with the silence. it starts to drizzle moments later, but rin is quick to pull out an umbrella and cover all three of you. the cat grumbles unhappily at the splatter of rain hitting him.

“do you always visit him?”

“yes.”

“do you like cats?”

“yes.”

a shame that allergies are the only thing keeping itoshi rin from getting a cat.

while you’re distracted, the cat goes back to rin. rin wastes no time bending down to pick him up, looking awfully domestic in the middle of a sidewalk in front of a busy coffee shop. your hands twitch to reach for your phone, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stare. they look so much alike.

cute, you think, horrified, rin looks so cute holding the cat.

while engulfed in rin’s arms, the cat meows at you. and you, with a too-tender heart, can’t resist.

“i’ll keep him,” you declare with newfound determination. “i’ll take care of him. if you let me keep the bowl you bought.”

rin’s eyes light up, though it wouldn’t have been evident if you hadn’t been his classmate and witnessed his varying expressions of death. (as if it was varying in the first place.)

“i’ll buy everything else he’ll like,” he says, like a true cat mom, his face glowing with barely concealed excitement.

since then, rin accompanies you home. you tell him that you’ve saved up three dollars from yesterday and now you have more than enough to buy a nice, cold drink and maybe catnip for the cat, but rin insists that he���ll pay for everything, including your beverage.

“you feed our son.”

“our son?” he repeats curiously.

“yes. he lives with me. he looks like you,” you explain absentmindedly, setting up the water dispenser on the new food bowl rin ended up buying. it no longer has fish for design or the painful lime green he bought the second time—instead, it’s a nice blue that compliments the cat’s eyes.

“and what are you implying is going on between us?”

you nearly spill water all over the floor. “i…” you honestly did not think about that, “—nevermind. don’t make it weird, itoshi!”

you think you heard rin chuckling, but you’re too busy being embarrassed to bother.

(during class, you will find that rin is far from intimidating. in fact, he’s actually a little bitch to deal with. you’re starting to think that he’s more of a pain to deal with than an actual grumpy cat.

“don’t forget to buy food for our son,” rin says after class, in front of students who gossip like there is no tomorrow.

“what?”

“for our son,” rin says, nonplussed at the sight of your haunted expression.

someone who has overheard the conversation pipes up, “you two have a son?”

“we don’t!” you hiss, face burning with embarrassment at the sudden influx of attention from your classmates.

rin frowns. “don’t lie.”

“you two are starting to act like a married couple recently…” another comments offhandedly.

“itoshi walks y/n home, i saw!”

“we have a son,” rin agrees, and you’re starting to think that he’s doing it on purpose.

“stop saying that!”)

thank u art aanobrain for giving me the idea of rin just naming the cat ‘cat’. that idea is so special to me.

anyway. RIN IS SO HARD TO WRITE HELPPPP. this was an excruciating process i genuinely did not know if i did anything right but WHAT’S DONE IS DONE. thx for reading <3

[scrumptiouskoalahottub]

🔞Platform Roulette | George Clarke

[Arthur has invited you to join in platform roulette after asking him for months, you've been living in London for around 4 months now and share a flat with George & Arthur so it made sense for you to tag along at some point, although the night doesn't end the way you planned it to end]

You arrive at King's Cross at 8am, you George and Arthur waiting on Arthur tv as usual as you're waiting you open your phone out to take a picture for instagram to show to your followers you go places other than your flat and the gym, you caption the photo with "platform roulette shenanigans 😛" and add it to your story, the boys fans base know you live with them so it was only a matter of time before you popped up in a video. Finally Arthur turns up in a hurry as usual as you film the intro for the first part of the video

"Hey guys and welcome back to another episode of platform roulette, today we're joined by someone else aswell as Arthur tv, she's been yet to make an appearance despite the nagging of her asking, it's y/n" he points towards you as you stand there and wave "hi guys and for the record I haven't nagger I asked once, Arthur just wants people to think everyone wants in on the game" you laugh and nudge him as George and Arthur tv laugh in unison "in that case why don't you pick the platform for todays adventure then any between 1-16" He looks towards you "erm, 4, my lucky number" you smile, he looks to the board to see what you've picked out "looks like we're off to Edinburgh" he turns back to the camera "right let's go get our tickets and a train bev" you all make your way over to the WHSmith to grab a drink, it's a 4hr journey so you decide to opt for 2 bottles of wine. "Jesus you're gonna be drunk before we get there" George laughs at you "unfortunately Mr Clarke I'm not a lightweight like you boys" you shoot him a wink as you pay for your wine, the boys opt for Cans of madri for the trip.

You get seated on the train and realise you've bought wine with no cups, "right guys I don't want no judgment here" everyone looks at you as you say this "but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to neck it out the bottle, I don't have a cup" you look at them as you let out a giggle, Arthur shakes his head as he looks at you "this is why you've never been allowed on before" he laughs as you pop open the bottle of wine. You manage to finish the last drop of your second bottle just as you pull into Edinburgh, the boys said you were going out into the town so you opted for casual wear, flared jeans, a corset top and one of George's flannel shirts you borrowed off him. Arthur starts to film again as he explains the rules and you head to rhetorical first pub, Arthur goes to the toilet so you all decide to sneak a quick "secret shot" in, you George and Arthur tv shot a sambuca as you wait for your drinks order, shortly after you all sit down Arthur reappears "just to let you know, you owe us all £50" you chuckle "how do you work that one out" Arthur looks confused "because we've all just done a secret shot at the bar" Arthur looks at the cameraman in shock as you've literally been at the pub 5 minutes and George and Arthur wouldn't of done this off their own backs "you're never coming again" he laughs as he takes his Guinness.

"Split the G?" You challenge him, although you've never drank Guinness in your life let alone know how to properly split the G. "You're on, but don't cry if you lose" he looks up at you with menace in his eyes "same goes for you" you retort. You both start to sip as you plant the glasses down at the same time, the camera man pans the camera to the glasses and pure shock stretches across his face "no way" he says as he looks at Arthur, George and Arthur tv rise out of their seats to see not only has Arthur missed the split line, you've managed to perfectly split the G on your first attempt.

"She's had your pants down mate good and proper" George laughs as his head jolts back, Arthur looks at you with an open jaw "you're never coming on this again, I'm off home" he buries his head in his hands as George and Arthur cheer you on, you catch George's hand slightly graze your thigh as they do so, was that an accident?

After plodding around the streets of Edinburgh you're all slightly tipsy and head the the last pub the score markers at the end show

[George: 11|Hill: 10| Y/N: 12|Tv: 12]

You sit down at the final pub and you decide to opt for a fishbowl cocktail for you all to share, Hill and tv make their way to the dance floor as you and George hang back for a second, your feet start to ache a little. "Have you enjoyed today?" George asks scooching closer "yeah I have, it's a lot of fun but I doubt he'd want me to do it again after showing him up" you laugh "honestly you being here has made the day better, there's something about you that lights up the room and it's nice to see, it's nice to see you have fun" George smiles at you "thanks George, I appreciate that" you lean in to give him a hug, you both pull away and just start at eachother for a hot second, "you look gorgeous by the way" he says "George you're drunk and you don't mean that" you say as you pull away and take a sip of the cocktail, he says nothing in return as you make your way over to the dance floor to join the boys

"Everything okay?" Tv asks "yeah I'm good, now show me some good dance moves" you giggle as you all dance, you turn to George who's buried in his phone, "George!" You shout, he looks up and ignores you, your eyebrows furrow as you walk over to him "ignoring me are we?" You laugh "I did mean what I said" he retorts "I've felt like this for a while, I just couldn't muster up the courage to tell you" you make your way over to sit with him again, you were left speechless. You wouldn't know how you'd be able to acknowledge George's feelings without it causing a stir in the friendship group "I'm not sure how we'd go about this if it was something serious George" you grab one of his hands and look at him with soft eyes "I like you too, but the friendship sort of made me step back" just then Tv and hill walk over and you slip your hand away from George's "you okay mate?" Hill asks, "yeah he's just feeling it abit now, he's a lightweight" you chuckle trying to hide the conversation you've just had "well out trains nearly due so why don't we head out?" Hill says, you all finish the last drops of the fishbowl and make your way to the station, George stumbling slightly so you interlink your arm with his "I'm definitely not coming again if I'm the one who has to babysit" you look at them all, letting a playful scoff "hey! I don't need babysitting!" George protests as you approach your train.

You sit down and hand everyone a bottle of water you stashed in your bag, "don't say I don't look after you all" you smile as you take a bobble out of your bag and tie your hair up, hill walks to the bathroom as tv is fast asleep, George plants his hand on your thigh sending shivers up your back, you turn to him, "if you're not too tired we can sort this out at home" you look at him with fire in your eyes, his eyes widen at your words "really?" He says "mmhm" you nod as Hill returns to his seat

You arrive back into King's Cross as you wake TV up from his sleep, you all stumble off the train and Hill opts to get tv back to his flat as you offer to take George back to his, awaiting Arthur's return. You get into the Uber and make your way to the flat, you exchange no words throughout the journey. The silence kills you as you open the door to the flat and toss your keys on the counter, "so where were we-" you turn as your words are interrupted by George smashing a kiss onto your lips, your move with his motions as sparks fly between you, you both manoeuvre your way to George's bedroom, still locked in by the passionate kiss. You decide to take control and spin him around, pushing him onto his bed, you look at him with menace as you unbutton your jeans leaving no time for conversation, you straddle him, planting your ass on the outline of his shaft, you flick your hair to the side as you slip your corset top off leaving nothing but a thong on your body, George places his hands on either side of your hips "fuck you're so gorgeous" his breath hitches as he says this, seeing you in a new light. You lean down to his level and relock your lips in a fiery kiss, tension rising between you both

You slowly slip your fingers into the seam of his joggers still straddling him, looking at him for permission to remove them, you lift yourself up onto your knees as George slides his joggers and boxers down, revealing his hard shaft beneath you, conscious of time you slowly tease George by grinding yourself on top of him before sliding him inside yourself, you let out a small gasp as you adjust to his length, letting out a slight whimper "fuck you're so big" you exclaim as you begin to ride him, you dig your nails into his chest as he grips your hips, assisting you "you're so tight" he looks at you with desire as he bites his lip

George decides to take action as he flips you onto your back, asserting his dominance. He teases your entrance, repaying the suspension you caused for him before slipping his tip inside you, your breath hitches as you cup one of your tits, "how bad do you want me?" He exclaims sending a slight smirk across his face "I want you to do everything possible to me George" his expression lights up at the thought of no boundaries, he locks his hand around your neck as he places a thumb on your pussy making figure 8 motions, your head jolts back in pleasure "fuck" you let out, George then starts thrusting into you, still playing with you sending your body into overdrive, his grip becomes more tightening round your neck, leaving small air to make its way in, your eyes start to water from the pain.

You feel yourself becoming close but didn't want it to end just yet "bend me over your desk George" you look up at him with doe eyes, you smirk at him "holy fuck you're insane" he pants as you walk over to his desk he uses for filming, you lay yourself on the corner of it as you signal for George to include the ponytail you recently tied up "fuck me with my hair wrapped around your hand" making george lost for words, he wraps your pony around his hand and grips it hard, you dig your nails into the desk as he takes a hold on your ass, he slowly teases you once again before thrusting into you one last time, your mind goes into over drive at all the feelings you're experiencing, you feel your legs turn into jelly as you're close to climax "fuck George I'm so close" you scream out, he picks up the pace as his grip on your hair slips, taking both hands on the top of your ass to gain control, you whimper as your legs fall from underneath you and you reach your limit "oh fuck George" you climax as George still continues to thrust into you, nearly reaching his limit "oh fuck y/n" he mutters as he climaxes also, both out of breath you emerge from his desk all sweaty

"Fuck that was amazing" George says out of breath, "yeah you could say that" you laugh as you quickly collect your clothes and run to your room to get changed into something quick before Arthur comes back George does the same, you wander back into George's room and plant a kiss on his lips.

"Maybe we could develop on this?" You say with a smile

"I definitely want to" he says rubbing your check

Just then the door handle clicks and Arthur's home.

-

🫶🏻

[iwritefandomimagines]

HOME — SPIKE (BTVS)

masterlist

pairing: spike (btvs) x reader

description: evenings curled up on a newly acquired couch in the a vampire’s crypt were hardly what most would call domestic bliss. but for you? you’d never felt more at home.

warnings: none really ! sappy cutesy domestic romance <3

author’s note: listen i’m super ill & binging buffy and i needed some sweet, fluffy, domestic established relationship spike content so im providing it myself!

———

“Another glass of wine, love?”

You peered up at Spike with a smile, watching the combined glow of candlelight and the television light up the small grin on his face.

He looked almost godlike in this light — the dim orange flicker illuminating perfectly chiseled features, glistening teeth, twinkling eyes that bore into yours with utter love and admiration.

You’d never have expected to find such happiness with the vampire you’d once considered an enemy.

Granted, Spike had changed a lot in the time you’d known him.

But even as he fought alongside your friends and protected you time and time again, you’d never thought he’d reacquire a soul and you’d acquire feelings for him so powerful they sometimes winded you.

And now here you sat, curled up on the couch he’d bought to share with you, an empty wine glass in hand and a heart entirely at peace.

“Mhm,” you hummed, holding the glass out to where he’d poised the bottle for pouring, “Thanks babe. Just a little more.”

“Hardly any left anyway, pet,” he laughed, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, “Hungry?”

He placed the bottle back on the table with a thunk! and pressed a small kiss to your forehead as he sat back down beside you.

You shook your head, leaning in close and resting your head on his chest as he settled back down on the couch.

“You’re sure you’re alright just being here with me tonight?” you frowned momentarily, acutely aware that the rest of the Scoobies were out patrolling tonight.

Spike was always happier to be with you than out fighting evil — and no longer just because he was supposed to be a big bad himself — but you still worried about boring him when he could’ve been out causing chaos or having fun himself.

“Don’t be bloody daft, love,” he laughed, arm curling around your shoulder as you swigged your drink, “You think I’d want to be out there with those morons instead of here with you? I’d take being all cosy like at home with you over that any day.”

You smiled, the word “home” warming your heart. It meant the world knowing that he meant his words, despite that lingering feeling in your tummy that one day he wouldn’t feel that way.

“Just don’t want you getting bored of this kind of stuff, s’all,” you shrugged, your body relaxing under the soft rubbing of his thumb against your upper arm, “But m’glad, I needed a night like this tonight. I love you.”

At that, his already wide grin broadened exponentially, “Love you too, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about that, you know? I’m perfectly fine. Happy, even. Ecstatic, really. Could never get bored of bein’ with you, could I?”

You hummed in reply, almost satisfied with his reassurance, “I know, I just—,”

“Pet, it’s rare we get this kind of alone time, and you still think I’d want even less?” he scoffed, cupping your face in his hands, “Bollocks to the Scoobies and the big bad out there when I’ve got everything I need here.”

Okay, you weren’t going to fight back on this anymore.

He’d hated how soppy you made him at first. He hated how poetic his declarations to you often sounded, and how even before reacquiring a soul his undead heart was pained by any inclination you might be hurt or upset or mad with him.

Now, though, he’d grown to embrace it.

You saw him as he’d hoped to be seen all those years ago before he was turned — embracing his romanticism, and in fact finding it charming.

You knew how difficult it had been for him to open up to the way he felt about you, and given your friends’ disapproval it had been for you too.

But everything that had happened had led you here, to domestic moments with the man of your dreams and a place you could finally call home… Even if it was a crypt.

You’d discussed getting your own place together, but you didn’t want him to have to entirely relinquish every facet of his life before you, given that he’d already changed so much of himself.

“Sorry I ask that so much,” you chuckled, pressing a small kiss to the curve of his jaw, “Who’d have thought I’d have domesticated the big bad, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m not some bloody dog! I’m not domesticated. Just happy.”

“I’m only kidding, babe,” you giggled, “Besides, it’s you that’s got me on a leash as far as the others are concerned.”

He scoffed, another roll of his eyes as he held you in closer, “Yeah that’s ’cause they’re still convinced you can’t possibly love me. Can’t blame ‘em really, pet.”

At those words you placed down your glass, leaning up to kiss him urgently, gripping onto his t-shirt for a moment as you drew him in.

Despite his surprise, he relaxed into the kiss immediately and his hands found your waist to pull you to straddle his lap and deepen the kiss.

“Hate when you say things like that,” you pulled away briefly to pout, “They’re just so wrapped up in themselves they haven’t taken time to see the man you’ve become.”

He smiled against your lips, leaning back in to kiss you again briefly, “They’re right that you’re too good for me though, you know that? End of the day, m’still a monster for everything I’ve done.”

You shook your head, “You’re not a monster, Spike. William. You’ve done some terrible things, yes, but that’s not the real you. Not anymore. I wouldn’t change you for the world, alright? And I’m not too good for you. Never have been.”

It was his turn to kiss you with urgency now, overwhelmed by the emotion of your words.

“And here I thought I was the poet,” he chuckled, a low rumble as you watched his throat bob when he swallowed, “Pretty face and a mouth full of pretty words to boot.”

You scoffed jokingly, “Only for you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Hardly, pet. S’why they don’t like you being with me. Doesn’t matter though, sweetest girl in the world ‘nd you’re all mine.”

You hummed, cheeks flushing red at the compliments.

It usually pissed you off that everyone treated you like you were too pure for this world, like some helpless little girl who needed saving.

Maybe that’s why you’d been so drawn to Spike to begin with — he’d never treated you as fragile, only ever seeing your brightness as a strength (if not a nuisance at first).

“All yours.”

“Want to put another film on, love?”

You pondered his question for a moment, briefly eyeing the television before shaking your head.

“Just want to lay with you, if that’s okay,” you yawned, cuddling into his chest.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as your sleepy eyes blinked open and closed, “Okay love, let’s get you to bed.”

He scooped you up into his arms bridal style, smiling down as you yawned again and cuddled in closer, “All this romance has worn you out, eh?”

Your eyes opened briefly again for a moment as he laid you down on your shared bed gently, “Nope, m’just… Just happy. Comfortable. Sleepy.”

Spike laughed, rolling his eyes as you fell asleep almost as soon as you’d finished speaking.

He rid himself of his jeans, curling up next to you and pulling you as close to him as possible, “G’night pet. I love you.”

He didn’t need you to say it back right now to know you felt the same, and if he could he’d stay in these domestic moments forever.

Try as he might to deny it — you were right.

You had softened and domesticated him… But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

———

ok i hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!!! no idea how i feel about this, i liked it at first but then lost my way a bit i think lmao. pleaaaase let me know your thoughts & feel free to request more if you’d like <3 here is my masterlist too.

[anthracite-writes]

Obey Me! Dating Headcanons (SFW)

ft. The seven rules of the Underworld (The demon brothers) - SEPRATE Reader type - X GN! reader

NOTE: These are just my personal headcanons for the brothers I’ve had for the 3 years I’ve been playing this game and what I think I think would fit them, if some of the headcanons are may be very OOC - apologies in advance.

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 !!: What it's like dating the 7 brothers + love languages NOT PROOF READ - APOLOGIZES IF THERE'S TYPOS OR SPELLING ERRORS!!!

𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓮𝓻

Love language? Quality time, Acts of Service, and Words of Affirmation. He'll open doors for you, prepares you lunch, would occasionally ask if you need anything at random times.

Hands full? Don't worry, he'll take those off your hands. Sad? Boom, he made you your comfort food and got comfort snacks. You're busy studying? He'll come in and check on you every so often to ask if you want anything to drink or eat.

Invites you to spend time with him in his study while he works on the copious amount of paperwork or even to spend time with him in his bedroom as he listens to his music.

When you're together like in his study or his room, he'll pull you onto his lap. Just wanting you near him when it's just the two of you.

Constantly praises you - "You never cease to amaze me Y/N", "I'm so proud of you". Will acknowledge your achievements no matter how small they are to everyone else.

Dates? Long walks at night, listening party in his room, dinner dates, list goes on.

Man just loves spending time with you.

Probably in denial with how protective he is over you. "I'm just a little overprotective over you. That's all."

Out in public? Holding hands, hand around your waist. He's on a mission to let people know you're already taken.

Def. overworks into late into the night so you have to force him to to go to bed. Either he goes willingly or you have to drag him to bed.

WAYYY to prideful to admit he longs for your cuddles, hugs, and over all touch when he's in bed

Calls you 'my love' or 'my little angel/lamb'

Fav. areas to kiss? Hands, neck, lips for sure.

𝓜𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓸𝓷

Love Language? Gift giving/receiving

Man's broke so, expect a lot hand made gifts.

Firm believer he’s a really crafty person, not the best but he puts a lot of effort into the handmade gifts

Gifts a lot of cool found objects he finds when he’s out and about (shiny stones, cool bottle caps, etc)

Ya know… because his animal is a crow.

LOVES to give "just because" flowers [Hand pick from the woods around the House of Lamentation]

Finds a cool rock? 'Hey! Y/N, I found this rock and I thought of you because it's cool!'

Calls you 'Human', 'Dummy', 'my lucky charm' list goes on.

No, really. You literally are his lucky charm when he's gambling - Well, that's what he usually says despite how much he loses.

Dang, he actually won? He'll immediately spend it on getting gifts for you. Clothes, shoes, accessories.

Extremely caring towards you, seeing you upset or just slightly down - he'll do anything to cheer you up, no matter what; he will cheer you up.

There is never a boring moment with him. There's just always something going on with him.

Someone is picking on you? Oh, don't worry. he will make a scene. And a big on at that.

'Oh no you don't! The only person that gets to pick on Y/N, is ME!' 'AYO! The job of picking on them is already taken! Scram!'

Fav. places to kiss? Cheeks, forehead, top of the head.

𝓛𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷

Love Language? Physical touch and Quality time for SURE

Always have imagined him to be such a sweet guy, just extremely nervous due to the fear of messing up.

Gently place and hold his face in your hands, he will MELT

Honestly, any kind of touch will send him blushing and stuttering - just something like your hand brushing up against his will make his face go red and unable to speak for 3-5 business days

He would want to do EVERYTHING with you

Anime Marathons, reading manga, playing the newest game he bought or reruns of games he's already completed but wants to experience playing it with you by his side.

Will ramble on and on about his interests, be sure to listen to him

Intimacy level up if you reference something he mentioned in his rambles - he'll be over the moon that you actually listened to him.

If he sees you upset, he wouldn't leave your side.

Def. doesn't know how to comfort someone but will give you hugs and cuddles - willing to listen to you and let you vent to him about what's upsetting you

Lets you sit on his lap and cuddles you when he's gaming

When he gets frustrated on a level, Levi would most likely rage quit (after saving) out of the game and cuddle you tightly as he de-stresses himself before returning to the game

No matter how long you have been together, he still cannot fathom the fact you're willing to spend time with him let alone dating him.

Would get a teeny tiny bit jealous if you're attention is one something else like one of his brothers, Henry 2.0, or even an inanimate object like his figures.

then usually rounds back to the thoughts you're just a genuinely caring person who looks out for anyone and genuinely finds what he likes interesting.

Calls you 'normie' or just by your name. He gets nervous if he deviates from what he's used to calling you

Love it when you reassure him, cheer him on, or just listening to him no matter the situation.

Fav. place to kiss? lips, cheeks, forhead, genuinely anywhere on your face, top of the head, hands.

𝓢𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓷

Love Language? Quality time and Words of Affirmation

Reads poems and read passages in his books to you that remind him of you.

' Hey Y/N, There's this poem that reminded me of you, please let me read it to you' or 'This line in the book I'm reading made me think of you, would you like to hear it?'

Snuggles while he reads you stories for sure.

If you have a hard time sleeping or suffer from insomnia, he'll keep reading to you till you fall asleep in his arms/against him.

Loves it when you go outside with him to watch the wild cats around the House of Lamentation or let him lay his head on your chest or your lap while you read to him and gently play with his hair as you do so. It puts him at ease.

For dates he'll have reading dates, take you to cat cafes or coffee shops, book stores.

Holding hands? Yeah, a lot of that.

Def has a candid shot photo of you playing with the cats either in one of the cat cafes he took you to or when you two were out in the front of the House of Lamentation as his lock screen

Calls you 'love', some literacy reference like 'my rose' [Le Petit Prince Ref.] for example, and MAYBE 'kitten'

Fav. places to kiss? Forehead, top of head, nose.

𝓐𝓼𝓶𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓾𝓼

Love Language? Quality time, Gift Giving and Physical Touch

He LOVES it when you two spend time together. That means lots of touching...

Like painting your nails, spa and self-care days, trying on clothes, list goes on! [... what were you thinking???]

Loves buying you clothes when he's off shopping, he sees something that suits your fashion taste? oh he's getting one in every colour.

Def. matching outfits for the two of you, like genuine matching outfits - not those tacky couple's shirts, tf?

Extremely PDA, so be ready for surprise kisses and hugs.

Be ready to be shown off! He'll be posting photos of you two together on his socials, takes you to his modeling gigs, parties, the whole nine-yards.

Out of all his designer clothes and belongings, you are the one he wants on his person 24/7.

Did you forget the man's also a musician? [I'm pretty sure it's actually canon in OG OM! might be wrong - don't hold me to this statement.]

He will write songs about you, you are his muse.

Makes sure you get VVIP treatment if you attend his shows and backstage privileges and just make sure the staff at his shows/events are treating you like the gem he sees you as.

In public, he'll hold your hand, link your arm with his, or even have a hand on your waist to keep you close to him at all times.

When you're sad he'll let you lay with him in his bed and spoon you, holding you close to him as he whispers sweet nothing to you but also will listen to you if you need to talk.

Respects your boundaries - Yeah, he's very physical when showing you how much he loves you but if you show any signs of being uncomfortable or tell him to stop, he will.

He never wants to upset you with his touching of physical affection.

Finds everything about you adorable

I mean EVERYTHING. You have parts of you you don't like and are insecure about? To him, every inch of you is perfect to him. You can't tell him otherwise.

He'll call you all the nicknames under the sun.

But, would mostly use 'babe', 'hun', 'cutie', 'gorgeous', and 'my beloved'

Fav. places to kiss? Everywhere and anywhere.

But most fav places to plant his kisses are your lips, shoulders and neck.

𝓑𝓮𝓮𝓵𝔃𝓮𝓫𝓾𝓫

Love language? Acts of Service and Quality time.

Willing to cook you anything you desire [with a little of restrain and struggle to not gobble down the food he's cooking for you]

Memorized all of your fav. foods, comfort foods and snacks, food allergies, how you like your food.

Anything relating you with your relationship with food - he will remember it.

Sad? Beel's got you, he's cooking up your ultimate comfort food for you - in the meantime, please enjoy the comfort snacks he bought you while he cooks for you.

Food is his love language, you can't tell me otherwise!

uh-oh, you're having late night cravings? Most likely Beel will be in the kitchen when you get there and he'll be more than happy to cook for you - no matter what your request is.

Def. a lot of food centric dates - restaurants, picnics, food tours, street food, movie nights.

DW, not all about food when it comes to dates. Loves going for outdoorsy dates to like hikes, enjoys having you as his spotter when working out or having you sit on his back when he's doing push-ups.

If you're there with him and you're spending time with him, he considers it a date

If there's food, he wants to experience it with you.

Love just being around you.

Cuddling on his bed to going grocery shopping - he loves it.

The strong silent type but will be sure to tell you how much he loves being around you.

Would love it if you cook/bake with him

He aspires to be a chef [literally canon.], so he loves trying to make new recipes and cooking dinner with you when he's on cooking duty.

Would call you 'honey' or something... I feel like any food related nicknames he'd use

otherwise, he'd just call you by your name

Fav. places to kiss? The top of your head and forehead.

𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓻

Love Language? Physical Touch.

Cuddles and snuggles in the Attic sleeping area Belphie set up when he was captive everyday after school, though he would want it to be 24/365 or till the end of time

Loves it when you gently play with his hair when he sleeps on you.

Loves waking up next to you, if your still asleep he'll just lay there admiring you while he plays with your hair or caresses your cheeks.

Would most likely use you as a personal body pillow.

Any sleeping position works for him - the closer your body is to his, the better.

Very handsy when he sleeps, he'll cling to you when you two are sleeping together - so be ready to never be able to escape his grasps till he wakes up.

Dates include a lot of night-time activities [yeah, I'm aware that the Devildom is in enteral night] include night walks in the surrounding woods and stargazing either outside of the House of Lamentation or in the Planetarium room of the house.

Would def. find a star close enough to his and Beel's and claim it as yours so no matter how far apart you are, you'll always be close to each other in the stars he loves looking at.

Loves getting pets on the head and when you caress/hold his face in your hands

You are now his personal pillow, he will lean against you anywhere at anytime to take a nap.

In more private settings, he'll lay down on your lap and fall asleep or just chat with you like that till he drifts off to sleep

You bed is now his bed, man would def. sneak into your bed in the middle of the night to sleep next to you

Calls you 'sleepyhead' or 'sleepy-sheep'

Fav. place to kiss? Forehead, back of neck, and shoulders.

[sushiwriterhere]

a little bit of fun

this is my attempt at a drabble (1.8ish-k words), this is for/dedicated to/inspired by @laracrofted and @theharddeck because sometimes a threesome can be and is something so personal and healing <3 i hope you enjoy!! i have nothing else to say for myself lmao - minors DNI! warnings: threesome (mmf, and the boys do kiss hehe), dp (PiV, unprotected) + ass play (oops lol), spanking, dacryphilia a bit, pining if you squint tagging?? @sebsxphia @sometimesanalice @waklman @joaquinwhorres @gretagerwigsmuse @lewmagoo @genius2050 @seresinsweetie

You're midway through taking your first sip of the perfect ice cold beer when a deep voice behind you intones, "We saw you from across the bar, we liked your vibe."

Turning around slowly, you turn a very unimpressed gaze upon Jake and Javy, both of whom are sporting shit eating grins. They're clearly amused with themselves.

"What is this gay lovers bit you guys are doing?" You raise an eyebrow at the pair, nodding your head at where Javy has an arm draped across Jake's shoulders. "And why do you think it's going to work?"

If you're honest, the two of them are a sight to behold. They both somehow glow under the artificial lighting of the Hard Deck, and their uniforms are too form-fitting to not be tailored, despite you knowing they're not. Truly, it's unfair how attractive the both of them are.

"It's worked before, sweetheart," Jake's smile is sharklike, but there's little real bite behind it. It's Javy you've got to keep an eye on.

"Thought we might try again." Javy lets his eyes scan your body lazily, not even bothering to hide the way his gaze fixates on the way your thighs press against the barstool and the way your tits strain against the sundress you'd thrown on.

"Well, you're shit outta luck. Not looking to get disappointed one more time today." You make to turn the barstool around, but then Jake's crowding you against the bar.

He's so fucking warm and solid against you, you almost don't know what to do. But you push weakly against his chest and try to make a help expression at Javy over his shoulder. He just shakes his head.

"Disappointed? Baby, if I remember correctly you were–"

You don't let him finish because you slap a hand over his mouth and exclaim, "Okay! None of that please. I'll get Penny to ring the bell if you finish that sentence."

Behind Jake, Javy just smiles warmly at you and his expression melts into something that sends a lightning bolt of arousal through you, "Just one drink?"

"Fine. One."

-

"Thought you said, uh, you didn't want to do this again," Jake's voice is strained with the way he's holding himself back from thrusting up into you. "Fuck, you're tight."

All you can do is moan in response as you drop your forehead to rest on his shoulder. Every single one of your nerves feels like it's on fire and you think you might be running a fever. Stradling Jake's hips and sandwiched between the two men, with Jake's cock already buried inside of you and Javy steadily sliding into you, your mind is swimming with arousal.

"Nah, our girl loves a little hate fuck." Javy emphasizes his last word with a little thrust, one that jostles both you and Jake up the bed just slightly.

Despite the copious amounts of prep and what feels like a good third of the bottle of lube Jake keeps in his bedside table (which he vehemently denies he bought just for when this keeps happening), you still feel the slight stretch as Javy inches inside you alongside Jake. You're panting and whining; you can't even bring yourself to care about the fact that you're supposed to not want this. The two of them are relentless, Javy behind you, Jake under you.

"Shit, shit, fuck!" You gasp out as Javy finally bottoms out. "Both of you aren't supposed to have huge dicks," You pause to let out a whine as Jake rocks his hips up just slightly, "That's against the laws of nature or something."

"The fact that you're talking so much means we're doing something wrong," Javy laughs lightly and smacks your ass in a way that makes you jolt.

"Shit, Javy, you gotta warn me before you do that." Jake attempts levity but you can hear the way he's fighting the urge to throw caution and coordination to the wind, press his feet into the mattress, and fuck you with abandon.

Javy doesn't respond, instead he makes his point by using one of his huge hands to grab your hip and the other to grab you by the ribs and dragging you back against his hips and down onto both his and Jake's cocks. A surprised groan leaves Jake and you squeal.

You bite Jake's neck to try and muffle the moans that are bursting from your chest at the way Javy's hands feel on you, the way Jake keeps petting your sides but also pinching your nipples. He usually complains the morning after, but never in the moment.

It would surprise most people, you think, the way the two operate in bed. Javy's usually confident in that quiet way that lets you know he's competent, whereas Jake is all ego. Every time you've found yourself in this exact position though, or some form of it, it's Javy who's in charge.

You're digging your nails into Jake's shoulders and trying to breathe through the onslaught of sensations as Javy sets a brutal pace, your forehead buried in Jake's neck. He throws his head back and pushes his hips up just as Javy pulls out and the way the two slide past each other instead of with each other might haunt you for the rest of your life.

When Javy puts a hand on the back of your neck for leverage, you know you can't hold on to your ploy any longer. You lose yourself in the way your bodies move in tandem, the way Jake moans and pants are right by your ear. Javy spanks you again and you feel the tears on your cheeks before you register that you're crying at all.

Then Javy's lips are up against your ear, "Fuck, look at you, taking our cocks so well. You're so fucking perfect, made for this, made to be stretched out and fucked."

Jake groans when Javy's lips brush his over your shoulder and then he's babbling too, "Shit, Javy, I can feel her squeezing us. Baby, I can't believe you pretend you don't love this."

You think you might be trying to defend yourself, might be trying to tell them that it makes it fun when everyone involved knows that this is how you'll end up anyway, but you can't form words. All your attention is on the way the curls at the base of Jake's cock are rubbing on your clit, the way one of Javy's hands has sneaked around to the nipple he's learned is more sensitive than the other. You think you might be drooling as you moan mindlessly.

Then, the moment of light tenderness is over when Javy leans back slightly and chuckles darkly before saying, "Jake, watch this."

His free hand grabs your ass and spreads you open. Then he spits. You moan at the sensation of the coolness against you, til he gently prods at you with his thumb and you choke off the sound. You jerk away from the sensation involuntarily, a little too fucked out to control your body, a little too turned on to do anything but gasp out a desperate please.

"Fuck, Javy, do it again, she loves it." Jake lifts your face away from his neck so he can look into your eyes, so he can see the way they flutter at the sensation of being so goddamn full.

You can only imagine what you look like–sweat plastering your hair to your forehead and neck, eyes slightly red from crying, lips bitten to hell. He keeps eye contact as Javy repeats his actions and your eyes roll back. Your eyes are closed when his hand slides from your face to your neck and just holds you there.

The moan you let out when Javy moves his hand from the back of your neck to trail feather-light down your back is animalistic, it tears itself out of your chest as you feel yourself cry again. Jake tries to keep an even pace with the rhythm of Javy's hips, but you can feel the way they're starting to lose pace, clearly both close.

Then Javy starts talking. It's always the same when you're all so fucked out, the barriers come down.

"Such a good fucking girl, you should see the way you're stretched around us, good god, never going to let you go. Should keep you here so we can do this every day, fuck you full of us, sweet, sweet girl." His voice has lost its hard edge, but he keeps the tip of his finger in your ass, his other hand on your lower back.

"Fuck, you're so good to us. You look so good like this, bent over for me, I bet Jake loves the way your tits feel. You're so fucking incredible."

Jake somehow finds it in himself to speak up too, "Come for us, c'mon baby, let go, wanna feel you come around us so fucking bad. Let go, come for us."

They've never failed to talk you through it. It makes your heart clench in your chest in a way that it shouldn't when you're split open on their cocks, when your eyes are too glazed over to really see the expression on Jake's face where he's now holding your face firmly in one of his hands.

They hold you when you finally fall apart, barely faltering. Jake keeps chanting something about your tight fucking cunt and Javy pets your back and calls you our best girl.

Jake finishes next with a grunt that breaks off into a moan as he shoves his hips up hard into you, and you shudder from oversensitivity. When Javy comes it's sloppy, like it always is, his cum adding to the warmth of Jake already inside you. Everyone's oversensitive but Javy keeps the three of you rocking together til you come to and whine and smack Jake in the chest, til you brace yourself on him so you can reach back and try to hit Javy too.

"There you are..." He murmurs as he pulls out and you almost collapse from the way you know his eyes are hyper focused on the mixture of his and Jake's cum leaking out of you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," You grind out as you roll off Jake and throw an arm over your eyes, remembering that you're supposed to hate them, but also bone tired.

Jake's arms are still around you and your legs are draped on Javy's thighs, his hands now petting your calves and thighs. It's strangely domestic and soothing despite the way you ache and you know you'll need them to hold you for the next hour. They always do it more than enthusiastically, working as well together to take care of you afterwards as they do a team in the air.

In that moment though, Javy's smile is devilish when you peek at him and you know Jake is wearing a matching expression, "Why? You offering?"

"Oh, fuck you."

"Already did, baby, already did."

read the companion fic - “it’s not rotten work (not if it’s you)”