#but its really just a stomach ache its nothing

[meazalykov]

farewell

barca femeni x reader

summary: you didn't want to say goodbye, but you had to.

warnings: angst

the fluorescent lights hum above you, the sound barely noticeable over the pounding of your heart. you’re gripping the back of a chair so tightly your knuckles turn white. 

your stomach churns, and for a moment, you consider turning around and walking out. but you can’t. they deserve to hear it from you—not from the media, not from rumors. 

they’re all seated around the table, waiting. alexia’s brow furrows slightly, her eyes scanning your face. 

“what’s wrong?” she asks softly, her voice full of concern.

you swallow hard, trying to find your voice. 

“i… i need to talk to you all about something,” you swallow hard, trying to find your voice. your words shaky, unsure. 

patri tilts her head, her lips quirking into a faint smile like she’s trying to ease your nerves. “you’re concerning us, y/n. just say it.”

your throat tightens, and your gaze drops to the table. 

“it’s—” you pause, forcing the words out. “it’s about my future here. at barca.”

the silence that follows feels deafening. alexia leans forward, her elbows resting on the table. “what about your future?” she presses gently, but you can hear the undercurrent of worry in her tone.

“i don’t think…” you hesitate again, tears burning the back of your eyes. you shake your head, willing them not to fall. 

“i don’t think i can stay here anymore.”

mapi sits up straighter, her eyes widening. “what are you talking about? you’re incredible. you’ve been amazing since you got called up from la masia. why would you even think about leaving?”

you bite your lip hard, the sharp sting grounding you for a moment. “i’m not saying it because i want to leave,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. 

“i love this team. you’re my family. but…” you exhale shakily. “i’m barely playing. i’m barely getting minutes. i—i feel like i’m just… here. like i’ll never grow. like i’ll never be like you, mapi.”

alexia’s expression shifts to one of denial. “that’s not true, y/n. you’re already one of the best defenders we have. you’ve just got less experience. that comes with time.”

you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks now despite your best efforts. 

“but when, alexia? when will i get that time? it’s always someone else—ingrid, mapi, ona, and marta– if its not them it's jana frido and esmee. i understand why. you’re all incredible but where does that leave me? i feel like i’ll always just be stuck here, waiting, hoping for scraps of time on the pitch.”

you pause, your chest tightening as the memory cuts through you again. 

“do you remember the champions league final against lyon?” you ask, your voice trembling as you try to steady yourself. 

alexia’s face softens, and she nods slowly. “of course,” she says, her voice quiet, like she already knows where this is going.

“we were up 2-0,” you begin, the ache in your chest growing heavier. 

“i thought… i really thought it was going to be my moment. jona told me to warm up. he told me, ‘be ready, y/n. you’re going in soon.’ i could feel it. the adrenaline, the nerves, all of it. i was ready to step up. i knew i could help.”

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as the frustration bubbles up. 

“and then… nothing. i waited. and waited. and when lyon almost scored from bacha’s cross, i thought, ‘okay, this is it. this is when he’ll call me.’ but jona didn’t. he subbed on esmee. and i just stood there, watching as the game time slipped away from me.”

alexia’s jaw tightens, her hands balling into fists on the table. “that wasn’t fair to you, but jona is not here anymore.” she says, her voice sharp, laced with anger she doesn’t even try to hide.

“it’s not just that,” you continue, your voice breaking. 

“it’s every time. we were up 5-0 against sevilla, and i thought, ‘there’s no way i won’t get minutes now.’ but he didn’t even glance my way. i warmed up for five minutes, and then the final whistle blew. i didn’t even get to step on the pitch.” 

you shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as your voice rises. 

“how am i supposed to grow if no one trusts me enough to let me try? i’m 21, alexia. i should be trusted to step up by now. i shouldn’t still be sitting on the bench, waiting for the chance that never comes.”

mapi’s face softens as she steps toward you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “that’s not on you,” she says gently, her voice steady. 

“you’ve done everything right. we see you. we know how good you are.”

“but it doesn’t matter if the coach doesn’t,” you whisper, your voice cracking. 

“and maybe he never will. another coach does though-- just somewhere else.”  

the silence in the room is heavy, the weight of your words sinking into all of them. patri’s brows knit together as she looks at you, her voice soft. 

“so… where are you going?” she asks carefully.

you nod, wiping at your face. 

“i think it might be bayern. they’ve been watching me. my agent said they trust me. they’re giving me a chance to actually play, to prove myself.”

ingrid sighs, nodding slowly as understanding flickers across her face. 

“it makes sense,” she says quietly. “bayern’s defense has holes, and a player like you? fast, smart, and tactical—you’d fit perfectly there.”

alexia’s eyes narrow, her jaw clenching again. “but they’re not us,” she says firmly, her voice almost pleading. 

“we’re your family, y/n. don’t you see that?”

your chest tightens at her words. “i know,” you whisper, tears spilling over again. 

“and i love all of you so much. but how can i stay when i feel like i’m being held back? i need to grow, alexia. i need to be more than just potential.”

alexia’s hands grip the edge of the table as she stares down at it, her shoulders tense. 

“it’s not fair,” she mutters, her voice thick with emotion. “you shouldn’t have to choose between staying with us and growing as a player.”

“but i do,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “and i wish i didn’t. i wish things could be different. i can-can’t be stuck on the bench.”

patri frowns, her hand reaching across the table toward yours. “you’re not stuck. you’ve got all of us. you’re part of this team.”

“am i?” your voice cracks. 

“like i said.. when we’re up 5-0, coach does not even sub me on sometimes. when they do, it’s the 70th minute, maybe later. i’m not ungrateful, but how can i grow if i don’t play?”

the room falls silent again. the lump in your throat grows heavier as you force yourself to continue. 

“my agent said… they said i need to leave if i want to reach my full potential.”

alexia flinches slightly, her face falling. 

“but… bayern?” alexia’s voice is filled with disbelief. 

“you’re really going to leave? leave us?”

your chest tightens at her words. “ale, you know that i don’t want to,” you admit, your voice breaking. 

“but what choice do i have? if i stay, i’ll never grow. i’ll always be stuck in the shadows of all of you.”

mapi’s gaze softens, and she gets up, walking over to you. she places a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm and reassuring. “we’ve all been where you are, y/n. that feeling of not being enough, of needing to prove yourself… it’s awful. but if this is what you need to do, then we support you.”

“mapi,” alexia snaps, her voice laced with frustration. 

“how can you say that? she’s part of us.”

mapi sighs, turning to alexia. 

“because i care about her, alexia. because she deserves this.”

tears are streaming down your face now, and you quickly wipe them away. “i’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“i’m so sorry. i love you all so much. i wish it could be different.”

alexia stands, her jaw clenched as she stares at you. “when?” she finally asks, her voice low.

you meet her gaze, your heart breaking. “january. the transfer will be official then.”

alexia looks away, her hands on her hips as she takes a moment to process. when she finally looks back at you, her eyes are glassy. “you’ve grown so much,” she says, her voice barely steady. “you’ve become like a baby sister to me. i don’t want you to go.”

“i don’t want to leave,” you whisper, your voice trembling again. “but i have to.”

you know how reality is. you might keep contact with your barcelona teammates for a few weeks after transferring to bayern, and things will fade afterwards. that is how life goes, people move on, and you know you will have to as well if you want to fit in at bayern.

after joining the senior team two years ago from la masia, you thought that barcelona was going to be the club you played at for your whole career. you thought wrong.

alexia steps forward, pulling you into a tight hug. her arms wrap around you with a kind of desperation, like she’s afraid letting go will make you disappear. “you’re going to be amazing,” she murmurs. “but i’m going to miss you so much.”

patri joins the hug next, her smaller frame squeezing you tightly. “bayern doesn’t know how lucky they are,” she says softly. “they’re getting one of the best.”

“i wish coach would see what we all see in you, amor.” alexia says. 

mapi and ingrid come next, the four of them holding you like they’re trying to etch the moment into memory. ingrid’s voice is calm and steady as she reassures you, “the bundesliga is a great league. you’ll fit in perfectly. trust yourself.”

when they finally pull away, alexia’s hand lingers on your shoulder. “promise me one thing,” she says, her voice firm.

“anything,” you reply.

“don’t lose that kindness or growing confidence,” she says, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. 

“it’s what makes you special. don’t let anyone take that from you.”

you nod, tears still spilling down your cheeks. “i won’t.”

as you leave the room, your heart aches with the weight of the goodbye. you never thought that you would say farewell to the love of your life, barcelona, but sometimes you have to let go of the things you love most for your own good.

masterlist

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Sometimes I feel like celiac disease doesn't actually count as a disability since it's so easy and stress free compared to deadly allergies, but then I remember that I have to meticulously plan every trip I go to and play 4D chess with uni campus restaurant menus and for a brief moment there was genuine consideration if I should be put on growth hormones because I was so small from not getting enough nutrients

[tamagotchikgs]

i just want a brain that strives 2 actually work instead of put me in the most immense pain for no reason

[kakashisbabymama218]

lol so this ended up being wayyy longer than i expected, just under 3k

Also, not edited so hopefully there aren’t many mistakes! If so I’ll fix it when I wake up cause ya girl is sleepy lol.

You can read part 1 here

you were barely halfway through your shift when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. you decide to ignore it for now, instead getting back to the task you were working on.

its ten minutes later when you're able to take your break, you head out towards the parking lot, seeing your car parked in the middle of the sea of cars and walk over towards it, unlocking the door and sitting down in the drivers seat.

you pull your phone out from your pocket and open it, noticing a new text message from katsuki. your fingers instantly click on the notification only to see its a video he sent.

you remember he said something about going to a party with eijirou and denki and figure its just a video of the three of them drunk off their ass and yelling into the camera or something like it usually is.

however, when you click play it doesn't take long for you to realize that this is not anything like the normal videos you receive. your eyes widen instantly and your head snaps up, looking back and forth and even behind you just to be safe, making sure no one else is in the parking lot before your eyes are dropping back down to your phone just in time to see katsuki pushing his pants down on his hips and his cock springing free.

your mouth waters at the sight, your legs squeezing together instinctively, eyes glued to the phone. you swallow as he takes his length into his hands, letting his hand drag up and down his dick and your ears perk up at the sound of him groaning softly in the background, hands instantly moving to turn the volume up all the way, wanting to hear each and every sounds that falls from his lips as he pleasures himself.

his thumb rubs at his tip, smearing the precum that dripped from his tip along the purplish tip and you can practically taste him on your tongue.

katsuki lets his dick go, and you watch , eyes moving along with it as if hypnotized, as it bounces up and down softly before settling. movement above catches your attention and you watch as katsuki begins racking his nails up and down his stomach, something you know he loves when you do it to him.

the hand that isn't holding your phone moves down to your legs, rubbing your thighs as you continue to watch katsuki touch himself.

you jump the first time he says something, not prepared for him to talk.

“fuckkk pretty girl—” and shit he already sounds so fucked out and he's barely even started.

your hand begins to slip inside the waistband of your pants, wanting nothing more than to give throbbing clit the attention its begging for when the quiet rumbling of an engine pulls your attention away from the video, your head raising as you see a car pull into the spot directly next to you and you immediately click out of the video, pulling up a random app you have on your phone as your cheeks heat up at the fact that you were really about to play with your pussy in the parking lot of you job.

after a minute or two you glance over at woman in the car next to you, wishing she'd hurry up and get out already so you can keep watching the video, but she's looking down at her phone and you can tell she's not going anywhere anytime soon. you let out a groan and look around the parking lot wishing she parked literally anywhere else.

your damp panties cling to you uncomfortably and you squeeze your legs together to get some sort of friction to your throbbing clit, silently reminding yourself that you are in fact in public so you cant actually make yourself cum.

the sound of a car door opening pulls you from the ache in your pants and you see the woman getting out of her car, closing the door behind herself and walking in the direction of your job.

alone again, you do another quick sweep of the parking lot, making sure there's no one around before your clicking back over to the video.

“wish it was you bouncing on this dick”

and fuck so do you, you wanna feel the fullness you feel everytime you sink down on katsuki's fat cock, the stinging stretch you feel no matter how many fingers katsuki uses to stretch you out or how long he preps you for. he's just so... thick, that it always brings a painful kind of pleasure.

 “don’t worry pretty girl, imma come stretch that pussy out when you get off”

at the reminder of your job your head raises. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, debating.

you leaving early wouldn't really be that bad, you guys were overstaffed for it to be such a slow night, and you have complete faith in your coworkers that they can handle the rest of the night without you.

it doesn't take you long to make you're decision, you're completely exiting off of the video and stuffing your phone back into your pocket, not bothering to finish the video, you'll be getting the real thing soon anyway.

you head back inside of your job, going towards your managers office and knocking. after telling her some shitty excuse about having a family emergency and how you have to go you grab your stuff, calling out a goodbye to your coworkers before you back outside and speed walking to your car.

you know katsuki is at his place because of the message he sent you after sending the video.

this party sucks. going back home, come over when you get off.

luckily his apartment wasn't too far from your job and in less than ten minutes you're pulling up to the familiar building. you park and hurry towards the door, using the key katsuki gave you to let yourself in.

you take the stairs up to the third floor, not bothering with the elevator until you're standing in front of katsuki's door. you fumble around with your keys a little before finding the right one and pushing it into the key hole, twisting it until it clicks. You walk inside, toeing your shoes off at the door.

its dark inside, the only light inside coming from the small space under katsuki's bedroom door. you hear him curse before he's calling someone a shitty extra and you figure he's playing his game.

you make your way to the door, pushing it open, flooding the dark hallway with light. katsuki's head turns at the sound of his door being opened and a surprised look crosses his face. he turns his headset off and sets it down before turning back towards you.

he glances up at the clock on the wall above your head and back down at you.

"what are you doing here so early? I thought you didn't get off for three more hours." he says but you don't respond, instead you're taking his controller in your hand and tossing it onto his bed before crawling into his lap.

your hands tangle in his blonde strands as you press your lips into his. katsuki's hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you back, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. your lips part instantly and katsuki doesn't hesitate, pushing his tongue into your mouth and slotting it against yours.

he tastes like mint with the lingering taste of weed and you moan at the combination, tugging on his hair as you grind yourself down against his growing erection, groaning at the clothing barrier that separates the two of you.

you pull away to mess with the strands of his sweatpants, untying them before trying to push them down. katsuki lifts his hips off of the chair, helping you pull his pants down enough to free his cock.

"you didn't answer my question" he says, watching you spit in your hand before wrapping it around his length. "what are you doing here so early?"

you don't answer, too focused on pumping him fast, your grip tight as you stare down at his cock.

he takes your jaw between his hands, squeezing your cheeks together and forcing you to look up at him. the hand you have wrapped tightly around his cock pauses as you stare into his red eyes, darkened with arousal.

"don't tell me you left work early just to get some dick. fuckin cock slut."

the words are mean but they're completely true, you did leave work early to get fucked and you were a cock slut— his cock slut.

"i saw your video" you tell him, as you begin moving your hand again, slower this time but your grip still just as tight. katsuki smirks.

"yeah?" he questions, tilting his head to the side. you hear him suck in a breath when you begin thumbing at his tip, smearing his precum the same way you say him do in the video.

"yeah. got so turned on i was ready to finger myself right there in the parking lot. probably woulda if someone didn't park next to me"

katsuki's dick twitches in your hand at the mental image of your spread out in the backseat of your car, fingers pumping in and out of your tight pussy as you watch him jerk off for you.

you let out a surprised yelp when katsuki places his hands on your ass before lifting you both out of the chair, he walks the few steps over towards his bed. he tosses you onto the soft mattress before pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

he crawls onto the bed, settling himself between your legs, his head directly in front of your clothed cunt. he drags his finger up and down your slit, feeling the warmth even through the layers of clothes you have.

in one swift motion, he has your legs pushed up with your knees by your head, pulling both your pants and panties down at the same time until they're pooling at your feet, you kick them off the rest of the way, letting the drop to the floor as katsuki takes his place between your legs once again.

the first lick against your sensitive clit was too much, after being ignored for so long the pleasure of finally being touched is almost enough to make you cum right then and there. your back arches off the bed, hands yanking at katsuki's hair.

his eyes are focused on your face, watching as your mouth falls open in a long moan when he takes your clit between his lips and starts to suck and slurp at the bundle of nerves.

"shit katsuki—fuck" you grind your hips up against his face, one of your hands coming to push your shirt and bra up over your chest, freeing your tits to the cool air circulating throughout the room, knowing katsuki likes the cold. your nipples harden even more when the cold air hits them and you take one of them between your fingers, pinching and rolling the nub as katsuki laps at your clit.

it doesn't take long— it never does, not when katsuki is sucking on your clit just right—for you to feel the familiar tightening in your tummy, your toes curling as you moan out a pathetic broken version of his name. two of katsuki's thick fingers plunge inside of you, he doesn't give you time to adjust as he curls his fingers upwards, looking for that spot that'll have you screaming out his name in seconds.

he knows he's found it when you're crying out and trying to close your legs around his head. he focuses his thrusts on the same spot, over and over again until your back is rising off the bed completely and your screaming out his name.

he continues lapping at your cunt, drinking down every drop of slick that gushes out of you as you cum on his tongue. his fingers slow down but never stop moving as he helps you ride out your orgasm. you're panting by the time he moves his head from between your legs, instead moving to lay next to you on the bed, his hand stroking his cock as he spreads his legs.

"cmon pretty girl, want you to ride me" he says, licking his lips and patting his lap.

you swing your leg over his, feeling his hard cock under your cunt and you grind back and forth, hissing and letting your head fall against his shoulder when it rubs against your overly sensitive clit.

you lift yourself up as katsuki lines himself up with your opening. you moan out in unison as you begin sinking down onto his cock. katsuki has to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest and fucking up into you fast and hard.

he'll let you take the lead... for now that is.

your hands find his chest, feeling his muscles under your fingers and you barely have to think before you're dragging your fingers up and down his pecks, letting them slide down to the tiny red marks on his stomach from where he scratched himself earlier at the party.

you lift yourself up on shaky knees, before sinking right back down, still not taking the whole thing inside yet but slowly moving down inch by inch.

"fuck kats', your so big'" you whine out when you finally take him in to the hilt. you feel so full, your tight walls clenching tightly around him as you let yourself adjust to the stretch.

katsuki tisks, thrusting up into you—hard. "thought i told you to ride me" he says with hard slap to your ass. you whine out again at the sting but lift yourself up anyway. you begin properly riding him, sliding yourself up and down on his length, grinding your hips against his, moaning as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

katsuki lifts his head off of the pillow and pushes his face into your chest, taking his lips and wrapping them around you nipple, one of his hands coming up to toy with the other one.

he can tell you're getting tired when your movements become sloppy, so he takes that as his que.

"hold on tight" he murmurs against your chest.

you barely hear him, grabbing onto his shoulders at the last second before your breath is stolen right from your lungs.

katsuki wraps his arms around your middle and plants his feet on the bed below him. he holds onto you tightly as he pounds into you, the sounds of skin slapping against skin immediately bounces off the walls at the pace he fucks you.

"ka— kat-suk-iiii fuckkkkk" you cant even think straight, the feeling of katsuki's cock plunging in and out of you rapidly must have your brain all jumbled because the only thing you can think of is dick dick dick dick dick, the word repeating itself over and over again in your head as you claw at his shoulders hard enough to draw blood, but katsuki barely even notices, too busy using you as a human fleshlight to worry about something as trivial as a few drops of blood.

he's close, dick twitching deep inside of your walls and he can tell by the way your squeeze him so tightly that you're close too. he slows down, dragging himself out slowly, leaving nothing but his tip in before snapping his hips forwards, knocking the wind out of you with each thrust, trying to hang on just a little long so that the two of you can cum together.

he flips the two of you over, laying you flat against the mattress with your head resting on the pillow.

"play with your pussy" he tells you, pulling away from you just far enough to let your hand slip between your legs, fingers ghosting over your clit.

"i'm not gonna last much longer" you tell him as you apply pressure to your clit, moving your fingers in circular motions.

"me— shit, me either" he tells you, hips stuttering a bit as you clench down tightly around him, fingers speeding up the assault on your clit. "gonna cum with me pretty girl?" he asks against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"mhmm... yeah fuck"

katsuki pulls back, angling his hips and hitting your gspot head on. thats all it takes for you to cum, body convulsing as your orgasm crashes into you, your toes curling as katsuki continues to fuck your through your orgasm.

it doesn't take long before you feel his warm seed shooting deep inside of you, pushing further inside of your walls as katsuki continues to thrust into you until he's positive he's emptied his heavy balls inside of your cunt.

you feel as it begins dripping out of your hole the second he pulls out, flopping down on the bed next to you, breathing hard and sweating. he looks over at you, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

he leans down and pokes your cheek "i can't believe you really left work just to come get some dick"

[playfully-sadistic]

Getting yourself off again, angel? Second time today, isn't it? Or already the third, fourth, fifth? You're such a greedy, insatiable thing. Now, now, don't stop on my account - no, keep going, you're doing great.

But your touches are a little too intense, don't you think? A little too... on the nose, too obviously intended to make you come. Good little pets don't finish fast - if at all - no, they edge and edge, over and over again, until they finally get permission to let themselves go and succumb to their primitive needs. So... Lighter. Slower. No rubbing, only caressing, no fingering, only teasing your hole with your fingertips.

But first things first, fingers off entirely. Apparently, you need someone to guide you through the entire process, don't you? You're just too impatient and worked up, full of hormones and heat, to be able to regulate yourself, poor baby. Don't worry, I'll do it for you, step by step, nice and slow. Nothing makes it easier for you than having someone to order you around and tell you exactly what you're allowed to do. Now, isn't it extra fun that, even though nothing stops you from going further before I allow you to, we both know that you won't? You'll be good and behave, just for me, less even, just for a few written words, the illusion of a dom hovering over your barely clothed body and whispering sweet commands against the shell of your ear.

Touch your chest first. Even if it does nothing for you, even if you barely have any sensation in it, I want your fingers circling your nipples, your fingernails gently scratching over them, pinching them between two of them, pulling, massaging. Put on a show, as if someone was watching you. If you have some clamps around, get them, and tease yourself with them - not quite putting them on, but rubbing over your areola, using it to pinch and pull as well. Feel that, treasure? That's what you get for being patient and taking your time. That nice pulling feeling in your stomach... Yeah, that's good, isn't it? Good job. Toy with your chest and nipples some more, make them swollen, sore, red, make sure they already ache before you finally put on those clamps. If you don't own any, you go ahead right now, and order some. The most humiliating, the prettiest ones you can find. And I want you reading through this post again when they arrive, so you can properly get off to it.

Now, I'm sure by now your legs have fallen open all by themselves, mh? Revealing a soaked, hot mess in between, throbbing and begging for attention. So tempting to put your hand right in the middle of it and grope yourself, but you'll be good for me and keep your hands to yourself, love. For now, all you're allowed to do is let your fingers brush over your stomach... Drawing little circles around your belly button, long swirls that slowly go further down, ah, there's that nice feeling of your guts tensing up, isn't it? God, you're so predictable, such a simple thing. Oh, it's fine, you're merely a body in need of being fucked right now, no wonder your brain turns into simple mode.

Gently tease yourself with your fingernails along your lower stomach, before you move onto your thighs - oh, my, you're really desperate, spread them out as far as possible, and let me guess, you only just noticed now how far you've opened up, haven't you? A proper slut for the taking, good job, my angel. Touch your thighs, not the inner parts yet, just explore yourself, palms tracing your muscle, reaching up to your hip, moving onto your stomach again, where that nice, tight feeling comes back. Slowly let your fingers glide to the inner part of your thighs, where your ticklish, and it usually only works to get touched there when it's someone else's fingers, but, oh, fuck, darling, today's different, isn't it? Touching yourself so intensely, yet thoughtfully, it's really showing its effect on you, mh? That's perfect, you're doing so well, yeah, touch and tease your thighs some more, move those fingers up until...

Now you're allowed to move them right in between your legs. That feels good, hm? Finally letting your fingertips feel your own heat, swollen and twitching, feeling your own wetness, only caused by a post. Doesn't that truly show how desperately you need guidance and being made to feel utterly submissive? Don't keep those moans in, show everyone that you're such a needy, horny doll, so desperate to touch themselves. Why the modesty? Let it out. Rub yourself - slowly, dear - and feel yourself up, and know that you've done anything to this point because you followed orders, because you obeyed, because you just couldn't do it yourself and needed someone else so fucking badly, you needed someone to tell you what to do, does it feel like I'm there with you, do you like it, mh? Does it turn you on to know that I took the time writing this, for you to follow every step and work yourself up?

If you own a vibrator, you'll use it now. If it's the kind that you shove inside your needy hole, then do it, don't be gentle, don't be slow, shove it inside of you on the highest settings, as deep as it can go, and use your hand to continue rubbing. If it's the kind that you put on yourself, lay it on you, don't press it against you - we wouldn't want you to get too excited now, would we? - and shove your fingers inside of your instead. Fuck yourself. Make it good. Make it hard to not fall off the edge. Make it as rough and fast and overstimulating as you possibly can. Make it feel humiliating how fucking close it gets you that you're doing this in the first place. Feel the weight and tension that your heat brings - lean into it. Open your mouth, let the moans and whines and all those pretty noises out, don't close it to swallow, let your drool run down your chin - pant. It's getting hard to not come, isn't it? Poor baby.

Do you want me to give you permission? You do. I know. It's okay, baby, relax, keep fucking yourself open like that. A little patience.

Getting harder, mh? Feeling it in your guts already? God, you're so...

Think you can manage a bit longer?

Soon, my angel. You sound so good when you're desperate.

Almost there.

Ready, love?

Come for me, right now.

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

goodnight moon

how spencer turns college!reader's bad sleeping habits into very good sleeping habits.

MDNI | smut! word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), slightest teensiest bit of overstim, fluff to the moon, spence and reader just being sweet, spence just being obsessed and concerned with every little thing about reader authors note: hiiii. soooo this is TERRIFYING. why is smut soooooo scary and vulgar. but i've been working on this one for a long while and i think i'm happyish with it??? idk. its not really adding anything new or revolutionary to the world but i think its cute!! lemme know your thoughts. i think smut is something i'll get better at writing with time but yk. okay whatever have a lovely day and i hope you enjoy!!

There’s a noticeable tension in your shoulders as you lay down on top of the covers of your bed. Your face crushes into the soft down of many pillows, nose buried into the crevices. You trace out the clean smell of Spencer's shampoo that manages to linger on your sheets even after a week of him being away on a case, the fragrance making your head become even heavier with each deep inhale you take.

You can physically feel the exhaustion clawing at your soul. Eyes shut, blocking out the harsh shine of the overhead light you definitely forgot to turn off, you reach your arm up to work on the knot in your shoulder. You roll it back, feeling an unsettling click that probably shouldn’t be there. 

Spencer would be able to work the knot out like it was nothing, if he were here.

You shift your leg up, thinking. When did he say he’d be home earlier today? You had called him before your final exam this afternoon, for some encouragement and reminders on the principles of astronomy.

The all-consuming fog in your brain prevents you from remembering any of the important details of the conversation, such as when he’d be home, so you choose instead to just replay the soft I love yous he had said into your ear. 

By this point you’re sprawled across a good portion of your bed, back to the ceiling with one leg bent, head turned to the side. Your spine sinks down into the mattress, relieving the aches just a bit, and the sweet, sweet release of sleep ensues minutes later.

Until it gets quite rudely interrupted.

You don’t hear him enter the room. You haven’t even opened your eyes to see him. The only thing you notice when you wake is the feeling that you’re being picked up from your hips and rotated, a complete 180.

“Hello?” you ask loudly even before your eyes open.

When they do open, they see your lovely boyfriend standing above you, grimacing like he’s been caught. Spencer’s hands are holding you mid air, and you look at him, wildly confused, as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.

He’s still wearing his work clothes, the thick sweater vest that you got him last year for his birthday layered over his button-up. He must have just gotten inside, his bag was still crossed over his body. 

“Hi honey. What are you, um, doing?” you ask quietly. His nose scrunches in a cute attempt to push his glasses up his nose without using his already occupied hands.

“Hi. Sorry for waking you up.” He ducks down to kiss your forehead. “You just really shouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach. Bad sleeping posture can actually worsen chronic pain more than any other factor in your daily life,” he explains, setting you down but keeping a firm grasp on your waist. Your mouth forms an awkward little smile, matching his. “I had to intervene.”

“I know. It’s just so uncomfy. But why’d you pick me up? You could’ve just nudged me, or, you know, asked…” you grumble. You make room for him, however, as you speak. He sets his bag down and clambers into bed next to you, body seemingly rivaling yours in exhaustion. He leans against the headboard, turning his head to look at you.

“I wouldn’t normally do that, but I knew you were exhausted, so I figured you’d be less likely to wake up if your body was physically touching fewer things,” he justifies, logic drawing a soft giggle from you. You settle into a comfortable silence, the room still bathed in artificial light and Spencer still in his work clothes.

He eventually breaks the stillness after a minute, turning towards you. “How did your astronomy final go today?”

“I think I did alright. Our study sessions paid off, I think. But it was never my strong suit,” you reply, tracing your fingers over his leg. “I’m so achy now though. It’s strange what four hours of math can do to your body.” 

His hand slides up your arm in response, lightly pressing on the tense spots. 

“It’s strange what four hours of math and sleeping like a contortionist does to your body,” he corrects with his little know-it-all look, fingers circling a bit more firmly into your shoulder.

“I also really, really missed you,” you add, smiling back at him. “So be nice to me.”

“I missed you,” Spencer responds, even sweeter. “And I am being nice.”

You roll your eyes and he reaches over to kiss you gently. “Would you like me to be nicer?” he whispers softly. Your brain is all but short circuiting as you look at him, his eyes flitting between yours like he was searching the stars.

Your head is nodding even before you can actually realize what he means.

Then, his body is gone from yours. You stay silent, trying to regulate your breath, eyes following him as he stands and walks over to turn off the big light. Your eyes flicker to adjust, but with the moon’s gentle shine pouring into your window, it’s absolutely perfect. 

A blush, that you're hoping the new darkness will conceal, creeps up your cheeks when you see the soft outline of Spencer’s back as he takes off his sweater vest and pulls at his tie. He turns back and looks at you, eyes all soft and full of adoration. “Yeah? Not too tired?”

“Nope,” you murmur, convincing yourself as much as him. He finishes getting into his PJ’s and walks back to you. You straighten your back, trying to appear as awake as possible. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he says back at you, voice gentle. “You can barely keep your eyes open.” A kiss, this one to your cheek, softens the blow of his words. You shake your head, but he continues. “You were sound asleep not even ten minutes ago, and you’ve yawned six times in the last five minutes.” His hand strokes the side of your waist.

“Spencer. I'm fine,” you huff. He smiles a little and sits next to you on the bed. His mouth is on yours, kissing you firmly, sweetly. 

A hand, always in motion, always calculated, slides up to your nape and presses you closer. The other slides down and thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing lightly over your skin, making it erupt in goosebumps.

His brow scrunches softly. “You’re so worked up.”

You stay silent, begging him with your eyes. He dips down and kisses right where he touched, and your hips lift a bit in response. 

“Honey. Lie back,” he says, and you do so. He readjusts his body so he’s on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, nose, and then moves down to your neck. He kisses that one spot beneath your ear that makes you gasp quietly. He then does it again, and again, and again, in that focused way of his. 

Wordlessly, he slides down further. His nose bumps underneath your belly button, in the thin stripe of skin showing where your top meets your panties. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yes. Please. Please, Spence,” you whimper softly, head feeling like a cloud of gas from the endorphins. He peppers even more kisses there and ghosts his fingers over your hip bone. He slides your panties down an inch and immediately kisses the skin that’s revealed.

“I thought about doing this to you all the time while I was away,” he murmurs. He presses another kiss more firmly on your hips, even closer to your soaked core, sucking gently and leaving a mark. “These should be off by now,” he muses, gently pulling your underwear down. 

His hand is immediately where you want it, two fingers pushing up against your folds, and to your clit. He touches in little circles, sending jolts of pleasure up your stomach, eyes looking up to yours to gauge your feelings. 

You almost hate Spencer for how fucking good it feels. You let out a soft moan, heart pounding. And when his middle finger sinks into your entrance with no word of warning, you toss your head back and close your legs around his hand. Spencer’s mouth twists into that little smile of his, pushing ever so deep into you, and says, “It feels better when you keep your legs open, sweet girl. If you need more, tell me.” You nod immediately, desperately. 

“Yeah. I need more,” you whisper, and he bends down and gives your clit a kitten lick. Your hand goes to his hair, softly pushing him closer. He gets the message and presses his tongue flat against it, eliciting a moan from you.

“You’re so pretty like this, under me. I missed you.”

You really do almost forget just how nice it was to have him on top of you after a week, telling you nice things and making you feel so good. He pushes his ring finger in to match his middle, stretching you slightly and adding pressure to where he knows it feels good. Your eyes screw shut and you furrow your brow in overwhelming pleasure, a soft exhale coming from deep within you.

“This good?” he asks, other hand coming to take care of your clit in his mouth’s absence. You nod frantically, looking down at Spencer. He watches where his hand comes in contact with you, pushing in and out at a steady pace. “You’re not normally this quiet. Is it a lot?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “Feel so sensitive.” He presses a soft kiss onto your clit, and you jolt.

“Sweet girl. It’s been a little while, huh? Even right before I left, I didn’t use my mouth." You shake your head in agreement. “You’re doing so well for me though.” 

He resumes with his tongue, working you into oblivion. His free hand holds your hips steady, hindering you from writhing away from the mind-numbing pleasure.

His mouth is occupied and your brain is utterly ruined, so the only noises coming from the two of you are your soft exhales and whimpers, and the obscene sound of his hand pushing incessantly into you.

And eventually it does, in fact, become too much. He sends you into orbit. You lift your hips, practically pushing yourself into his face, pleasure coursing through you.

“Spence, I’m. I-” your voice gets caught in your throat. 

“I know,” he says, calm and collected. A stark contrast to whatever the fuck you’re feeling right now. 

He keeps going in the same way, steadily driving you through your orgasm. You let out one last moan and your body relaxes and limps around him, chest moving up and down rapidly. 

You come back to earth and grab his arm to tug him away. But he stays, pressing kisses all over you, watching you with his imploring eyes.

“You can take it. Missed you so much. Just one more,” he says in broken little sentences, parting with your core for just a second before resuming, hand picking up speed again. But this time, you don’t feel as awake. As alert. Your chest feels heavy, and your eyelids even heavier.

The post-orgasmic haze has settled even more into your bones, pressing you down deeper and deeper into the dark chasm of sleep once again.

The last thing you see before you succumb is the moon casting a perfect glow onto Spencer, still diligently pressing soft kisses onto you, holding your hips still so you won’t roll over in your sleep like before.

[r3starttt]

GHOSTFACE ELLIE

PAIRING: Ellie x reader

SUMMARY: Quiet girl turns out to be a psycho <3

CW: phone sex. guided masturbation. fingering. knife play.

AN: as always @clairoscharm thanks for reading my stuff and supporting my delusional ass AND total creds to this for the dialogue

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles | ELLIE'S TAGLIST: @ilovetaylorrr @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @elliesmistress @aouiaa @chlobearsworld @crispers @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee

Lying in bed, the glow of your phone the only light in the room, you scroll mindlessly, your limbs heavy with the dull ache of hours spent in the same position. A pillow is wedged between your legs, more out of habit than comfort, and the phone in your hand holds you captive in an endless loop. It’s been five hours, maybe more.

Your attention flits from one post to another until, once again, you land on her. That girl. The one you’ve been following for months now. She’s pretty, but not in an obvious way. She wears glasses, those chunky ones that somehow make her even more intriguing, and her wardrobe is an exercise in minimalism: basic tees, old Converse, jeans that have seen better days. Yet, it suits her. She doesn’t need anything more.

She’s intelligent, too. You’ve seen it in the rare moments she speaks up in class, offering insight that stands in stark contrast to the usual drivel from the self-assured brunette at the front of the room, whose every comment is met with the weary nod of a teacher who’s simply given up.

But not her. She’s different. She only speaks when she has something worth saying.

You’ve never really spoken to the girl you’re watching now, the quiet one, the one with the pins on her backpack that match all your obsessions. But you’ve heard her, overheard her really—laughing with her small group of friends, a sound that’s more music than noise. And that laugh, paired with her intelligent, effortless aura, keeps you coming back to her profile. You scroll through her feed again, trying to piece together more of who she is. But it’s hopeless, really.

You know better than to hope.

You’ve overheard her laughing with her friends, and once—just once—you caught a snippet of conversation that seemed to be about someone like you. They joked about how a person like you would be the perfect way for her to "get out of her comfort zone," before she rolled her eyes and tossed a gummy at her friend, who ate it off the floor with a grin. The image of that moment clings to you, taunting. Maybe if you were the kind of person who ate floor gummies, maybe if you filled your pink backpack with pins and trinkets like hers, she’d notice you. Maybe then you wouldn’t seem so insignificant.

But it’s a foolish thought, really. All of it becomes irrelevant when you see her newest post, a fleeting story—her hair, damp and messy, clinging to her face, and an oversized red shirt, soaked through in the same vibrant hue. The image is imperfect but mesmerizing. Did she mean to post it? Probably not, because just as you finish taking a screenshot, Instagram glitches, and the story vanishes, no longer available to view.

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, a single word of frustration, though it’s nothing compared to the soft whimpers and low murmurs that follow as you shove your hand between your legs. That same position you were in a few minutes ago now doing the opposite, relaxing your stiffened body into something comfortable and private. Something that gets interrupted by your phone vibrating in a disturbing tone.

Your eyes open, your mouth closes and the finger teasing your clit quickly abandons its place to rest over your stomach. The sudden sound taking your breath with the vibrations. The pad of your thumb slid over the screen, hanging the call without even glancing to look at the number. Whoever it was should be able to use their fucking fingers and type whatever message they needed you to know at ten pm on a Friday.

The agitation slowly faded into that anxious palpitation in your heart, your body catching your needs again as the wet under your panties grew again. You took your time, sliding your shirt over your head, the small shorts being tossed somewhere in the floor and your panties and bra resting at the edge of the nightstand next to you beside your phone.

She was in your mind- creepy, but it'll be enough for your horny brain to work into making you cum. And truly it was working amazing, circling at your clit, caressing your own skin in hopes to trick yourself it was someone else. Your thighs clenching whenever you were too harsh on yourself. Nipples hard between the pads of your fingers. Your mouth opening the slightest to catch your breath at the somehow pretty sound of your wet.

But the vibrations appeared again. A disturbing sound that made you anxious.

With a groan you turned yourself on the side, managing to grab at the phone with wet still on your hands. Who cared anyway.

The phone buzzed in your hand, the screen flashing with an unknown number. You hesitated for a second, half-expecting it to be a wrong number or maybe some random perv dialing at the worst possible time. Or maybe it was just some grumpy old person calling the wrong number altogether—some mundane accident that you could dismiss with a quick tap.

But then, through the crackling line, your name came through, distorted and warped, like someone speaking through an old, broken radio. Your brow furrowed, confusion setting in immediately.

"Who’s this?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. Had you been too careless? Maybe given your number to someone you didn’t remember in class?

"Long time, huh? Didn’t think you’d answer," the voice replied, dripping with mockery. The eerie, disembodied tone was layered with heavy breathing, the kind that made your skin crawl.

You sat up straighter, fingers gripping the phone tighter. Your confusion only deepened, your eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. "Who is this?" you repeated, but instead of an answer, the voice laughed, a low, unsettling sound that rattled your nerves.

"Don’t be so impatient," they teased.

A heavy silence followed, stretching on far too long. Your heart started to race as the seconds ticked by, tension building until you almost hung up. Just as your thumb hovered over the screen, ready to end the call, the voice cut back in, calm and unnervingly intimate.

"I think you left the door open."

Your eyes immediately shot to your bedroom door, closed just like you’d left it. But something about the way they said it made you second-guess yourself. You suddenly wanted to throw the blankets off, get dressed, and rush downstairs to check every door, every window. You always locked up before bed—double-checking, even—but now that doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

"You know," the voice continued, smooth and casual, "you shouldn’t leave it unlocked. Makes it too easy for someone…"

Your pulse hammered in your ears, and a cold chill settled deep in your stomach. Every word felt like a creeping shadow, something lurking just out of view. You tried to force yourself to move, to shake off the growing panic, but their next words stopped you cold.

"I wouldn’t do that," they said, a twisted hint of amusement in their tone. "I’ve been watching you."

A wave of nausea rolled over you as the realization hit. This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t some random caller. Whoever they were, they knew too much—things they shouldn’t know.

Your mind raced, heart pounding as you scanned the room, trying to process what was happening. "Who the hell are you?" you managed to stammer out, your voice shaking, but they ignored the question entirely, continuing as if the conversation was on their terms.

"How long do you think you have left?"

The playful edge was gone now, replaced with something colder, more deliberate. The words cut through the air like knives, sharp and precise. Whoever this was, they weren’t guessing—they knew something you didn’t, and it left a sick feeling crawling up your spine.

"I don’t—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of the moment, but the distorted voice on the other end silenced you. "Go lay down again," they whispered, the words almost affectionate, but twisted in a way that sent every nerve in your body on high alert. "Come on, if you're good enough maybe I'll have pity. You're good at causing that." They definitely knew you.

You hesitated but obeyed their every command. Each step against the cold floor of your room sending a shiver up your warmth body, a thin layer of sweat growing on your forehead at the silence between the line. "There we go." He mocked you.

"See? wasn't so hard to obbey." You heard their slow, heavy breathing, each breath dragging out in an unsettling, deliberate rhythm. It was shallow, almost raspy, like they were too close to the phone. "Come on, lay down." His tone was quieter, almost a mumble. You did as they ordered, adjusting yourself in almost the same comfortable position you were in, before this creepy guy called to entertain himself tonight.

"You're shy now?" he chuckled. Your body reacted before you could even process, trying to make this have any sense. Your eyes wandered all over the dark in your room, there was absolutely nothing. Not a window half open or the courtains allowing much inside view, the door was closed too. "Spread your legs, yeah... just like that. Now, put your hands over your thighs- no, lower... yeah, closer." His every command was followed. The tip of your fingers caressed the inside of your thighs, sliding your hand up and down, over your knee and then down until you got too close to your pussy, the wet growing shamelessly fast. He didn't really put any more rules, his breathing increasing withint every touch you applied over your body. growing into it eventually.

"Good, good girl"

Your hands stopped in the inside of your thighs, gripping at your own flesh at the mix of fear, shame- mostly wanting her to just come inside and finish the main plan she'd had on her brain when you answered her call. "Don't stop now, you were doing so good..." Her voice had a fake pity on it, mocking you. "Move them over your stomach, come on."

But you didn't.

"I know you wanted this." Ellie whispered, it was the closes her tone got to that robotic distortion you've heard before. "You were whining my name."

Your breathing was unsteady, your stomach tightening in everything but pleasure.

"Let me hear you again."

Your hand slid between your legs, hesitant on the show you were about to give her. She must be able to see, right? somehow.

You rubbed small circles on your throbbing clit, scissoring your folds to make it last longer. "Fuck- good girl.... just like that." Your lips parted open, allowing the front teeth to show up a little. Whines coming in the warmth of your breath before her name started to slip in between. You were ridiculously wet. each touch on your pussy loud and explicit. Profanity elicting out of you withing every touch over you nipples, down your stomach and against your pussy. She didn't have to ask, you'd do anything for her, anytime.

"Fucking pretty girl... hear that. So wet for me." Her voice was almost a whimper. there was no shame and fuck if she was here. actually seeing it in front of her eyes. She'd be on her knees for you, offering to help, to touch, to clean. "Yeah... fuck- please-" her breath was loud, a cruel trick to make yourself think she was close.

"Wanna cum?" you nodded as if she could see. she had to see. "Stop- stop." the tone was firm and you had nothing to do but whine at it, rubbing your clit one last time. You did leave your hand there, just needed any sorth of pressure between your wet pussy.

The call ended. And you desperately abandoned your body to pick up the phone and call again. The tone would ring and ring until it didn't, was it a joke?

The back of your head crashed against the messy pillow behind you, catching your breath for the millionth time this hour. There was a mess consuming you. The fear and uncomfortable of being seen by her, as creepy as it could be, it made you wet. She was a craving you would kill to suffice anytime and you've got her so close. Even if she was cruel, if this was a joke to laugh at you, you'd still do it again.

Your eyes drifted to the end of the bed, glancing at your naked body before crawling to pick up your clothes. You made it to the mere edge of the mattress, stretching to pick at your shirt and maybe at your shorts too.

The door cracked slightly, letting in some light from the hallway. But no one came in, there was no sound, no step, no loud greeting. "Dressing already?" your attention turned to meet at the strange mask covered person- her. The black robe adorning her body, way too loose. Her boots were so loud against the floor, almost as loud as the sound form the door when she slapped it closed. You were drooling.

"Eager?" Her knees folded slightly, getting to your height. You heard the shine of her blade, watching it just a few seconds later beneath your chin. "Put that back." Her head tilted to the side, you could barely see her through the dark circles covering her eyes. It took you a while until you put the shirt back to where it was, tossed somewhere you'd think about later.

The cold of the blade dig the slightest into your neck as you turned back around. Her other hand was quick to get rid of the mask, allowing you to have the prettiest sight. There was no actual reaction but a whimper that had to brush through your lips as you sensed her lips over yours. It was sloppy and gross and desperate, all while the mere tip of the knife cut between your breasts, digging hard enough to let the blood drip down your stomach, stopping the second your back hit your matress. It eventually stained the pretty blankets beneath.

She slid under your neck, nibbling and sucking at the skin while her knife rested flat against the fat of your thighs. Her legs crawled to trap you in between, leaving enough space for your legs to spread a little, enough to fit her hand in your pussy, really. Which didn't take long, craving to hear your voice this close, right next to her ear again. "Fuck baby, so fucking wet for me?" you nodded, already a disturbing mess at the feeling of her hand cupping at your cunt, slapping at it.

Her digits got trapped the second she landed on your clit, not paying too much attention as she could only care about tasting you, licking at your skin and sucking at the trail of blood under your breasts. Leaving her name stained on your tender withint every kiss and sucking and touch.

"Lemme hear you, come on." She slid her digits with ease, thrusting in and out of your wet pussy. You clenched at her, cupping the back of her neck- up her hair, and forcing her to kiss you, needing to savor her for once. She was whining, as wet as you beneath that tough costume.

"Fuck- just like that baby? yeah? gonna cum for me..." There was a sloppy kiss between each word. Quiet whines and moans pressed against your skin to overlap the wet of her thrusts on your pussy. "Ellie- Fuck- els...." she chuckled at your words. Her quiet ego being fed at the sight of you, so fucked for her. "My good girl, mhm?" her weight felt too heavy, and her kissed too overwhelming. But she was fucking you good, way better than what you've imagined.

The knot on your stomach grew bigger with every praise, every squeal of her fingers against your pussy, every moan she'd let out and the vibration you'll get on your skin.

But the knife cut deeper this time, just as you'd open your mouth to have the orgasm you've been denied for so long. You saw her eyes, her flushed cheeks and those freckles you'd admired from afar in hopes to someday see them this close.

The warmth on your stomach now growing- drenching on the sides of your body. But fuck it was a good sight to see, what she'd been craving for a while now. Your pretty whine and her hand drenched in your wet not transformed into pure horror and pain.

"Good girl, yeah baby. I know" your hands wandered anywhere, not even thinking on defending but holding her, pressing her closer to you. Have her one last time. "I know."

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three

cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts

the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.

no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.

it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.

it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?

"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"

as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.

it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.

"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"

it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."

"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.

"why do you care?"

"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."

"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.

"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"

"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."

"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.

ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."

you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"

"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."

you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?

"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"

"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.

your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."

"no," it answers with ease.

"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.

"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.

"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.

"no," it responds.

your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"

suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.

you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.

nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.

"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.

then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.

you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.

you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.

you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.

a silent apology before it vanishes completely.

when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.

you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.

you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.

do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[inkedinshadows]

Tea, Cookies, and Love

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel takes care of his mate while she's on her period.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

@azrielappreciationweek

You hated being on your period.

Even after years, it was still hard to deal with the cramps and pain, so strong that most days you couldn’t even get out of bed. Instead, you curled up under the warm sheets, clutching a hot water bottle tightly over your aching tummy. It didn’t help much with the pain, but you liked the comfort it brought.

The door opened silently, and Azriel slipped inside. He had a steaming mug in one hand and a small plate with chocolate cookies in the other. “I made your tea, love,” he said quietly as you lifted your head from the pillow. “I know it doesn’t do much, but it’s better than nothing.”

You just frowned, watching as he set the plate and mug on the nightstand. The smell of ginger and peppermint reached your nose, but you didn’t touch the tea. You would likely burn your tongue if you took a sip now.

“I thought you were going to Rita’s,” you murmured.

“The others did,” Azriel confirmed. As he sat down next to you, a few tendrils of darkness wove through your hair, drawing a small smile from you even as you clenched the muscles in your stomach at the stabbing pain.

You closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to work through the next cramp before you could ask, “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Azriel lifted a brow, visibly trying to hold back a smile. “You're really asking that?”

Sitting a bit straighter in bed, you nodded weakly as you reached for the mug. Even if you couldn't drink it yet, you could still savor its warmth in your hands.

“I'm not leaving you alone and in pain while I’m out having fun,” he stated. His voice was soft, but it carried that underlying determination that told you he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Yet, as he stood up and began undressing, you still tried, blowing over the hot tea. “I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to go with them, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, pulling on some sweatpants and a shirt. He turned to you with a smile. “But I don’t want to.” He climbed into bed next to you, slipping under the blanket and wrapping you in his arms. “No, I want to stay here and take care of my beautiful mate.”

A new warmth spread through your body, one that had nothing to do with the mug or the hot water bottle. You actually removed the latter from your stomach to place it on the nightstand instead, so that you could snuggle closer to Azriel.

“Don’t you need that?” he murmured, letting you move around to find a comfortable position. You settled for curling up against his strong chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Not really,” you answered in a whisper. You finally took a sip of the tea, and its pleasant taste filled your mouth, warming your throat as you swallowed. Hopefully, it would soothe your aches, but you knew how unlikely that was. “It’s not that hot anymore.”

“Do you want me to go heat it up again?”

You looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips. You shook your head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I just want you here.”

“Then I’ll stay here.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your temple, then draped his wings around you. “Whatever you need, my love.”

You wanted to answer, but you grimaced instead as another cramp twisted your gut. It felt like being ripped apart from the inside, and you almost spilled the tea while trying to find a position that would bring you some relief. Azriel’s broad hand covered your lower stomach, gently massaging the area to offer what little comfort he could.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I hate feeling like this too,” you mumbled once the pain settled, at least for the moment. You drank some more tea, and your eyes took in the chocolate cookies he had brought you. “Are those Elain’s cookies?”

Azriel nodded, his hand still drawing soothing circles on your stomach. “She made them this morning. I thought you might want some before they're all gone.”

“Gods, I love you,” you breathed. You turned your head just enough for your lips to brush against his, but you didn't kiss him yet. “You just make it so easy.”

Azriel's lips curled into an amused smile. “I love you too, beautiful. But what is it that I make easy?”

You set the mug down, cupping his face with your now-free hands. “Loving you, Az.” You finally kissed him, pouring all your feelings and gratitude into the kiss and down the bond. “You make it very easy to love you.”

You chuckled as a faint blush crept up his neck. “Thank you,” he murmured, “but I don't do anything special.”

“He doesn't do anything special, he says,” you scoffed playfully. You gave his cheek a kiss, then reached for the mug again and took another warm sip.

Snuggling closer to him, you tucked your head under his chin and closed your eyes. Azriel held you tighter, cradling you against his body. As he opened his mouth to reply, you knew he was going to say that it was true and he didn't do anything special, so you beat him to it.

“For starters, you're here with me instead of out with our friends,” you pointed out. You didn't even open your eyes, instead simply listing all the reasons why he made you fall in love with him every day, all over again. “You made me tea even if I hadn't asked for it. You rub my aching belly. And you brought me Elain's cookies.”

“I just want to take care of you,” he said. His tone was soft, and he sounded as if he was defending himself and his choices. He really didn't see what was special about it. “And I know how much you like her cookies.”

You sighed quietly. You picked up a cookie, but even though you loved them, you didn't feel like eating anything right now. You'd save them for later, when the cramps would hopefully relent. So you offered it to him without a word.

Azriel took it, brows furrowed. “You want me to feed you?”

Your quiet chuckle was interrupted by a twinge of pain deep in your core, and you quickly disguised it by saying, “I want you to have it.”

He shook his head and handed the cookie back to you. “They're for you.”

“The others are for me. That one is for you.” You didn't even touch it, opting to simply sip from your mug again. “It's how bonds are accepted.”

“We accepted the bond years ago,” he mused. He didn't take a bite, instead waiting to see where you were going with this.

“I know.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. He was beautiful, and he was yours. Your love and your home. Your mate. Just as you were his. You knew he considered himself lucky to be with you, but he never realized you were the lucky one.

“Every day, I am beyond grateful that the Mother blessed me with you as my mate,” you murmured. A sudden lump formed in your throat, and you weren't sure if the tears prickling your eyes were caused by the hormones or the depth of your feelings for him. “And I want you to eat that cookie. Because I want you to know that I would choose you in every life, no matter what.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment, but you could see the swirling emotions in his hazel eyes. The love and care, the vulnerability he showed only to you. He slowly lifted the cookie to his lips and took a small bite, his eyes never leaving yours, your ache momentarily forgotten.

“I would choose you in every life too,” he said softly. “I would find you, and I would love you. In every life, every world.”

When you kissed again, the bond between your souls glowed stronger and brighter.

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Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[torturedlexdepartment]

Used

JJ Maybank x fem reader

Authors note: just had to write something for THAT scene that drove us all crazy. Gif made by me cause I could not stop thinking of how hot he was with the fucking bat 😅

This is my first new fic in a long time, so I know it's not without its flaws, but I hope you guys enjoy 😅😈

Warnings: SMUT, mean JJ, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, rough unprotected sex, blood

Summary: you track JJ down at Zeazy's office

The second I saw downtown, I knew he was really off the rails. Lucky for me, I knew exactly where he was headed. I broke off from the group, making sure no one was following as I sprinted further into town.

When Zeasy’s real estate office came into view and I saw the busted windows, I sighed in relief. I found him. I approached quietly, not wanting to spook him as I reached through the broken door, opening it up from the inside.

“J”, I whisper as I enter the front office, trying not to step on the glass that’s scattered all over the floor. I continue walking forward till I’m grabbed by the back of my hair. I go to let out a scream and a ring clad hand is slapped over my mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He seethes as he releases my hair and pushes me forward. I spin to face him and he’s still holding the bat, hair disheveled, eyes darker than his normal shade of blue and I take a cautionary step backward.

“You need to stop J, they’re gonna lock you up for years over this.” I say, nothing but concern laced in my words.

“They aren’t taking me alive, I can guarantee you that. Just get out of here. You aren’t gonna want to watch it unfold Y/N.”

“I just want to help. How can I help you, I know this isn’t you.” I take a step towards him and he takes steps back.

“You can’t help me. Just get the fuck out.” He shouts as he points to the door. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

“Please-” He cuts me off, storming towards me and grabbing me by the throat.

“You wanna know what I need princess? Get on your fucking knees.” He demands as he releases me and I choke as I let in a breath. I’ve never seen him like this in the years I’ve known him. Completely unhinged and it makes my stomach churn.

“We can’t stay here, take me somewhere else and-” I’m cut off again and this time he’s pushing me down to the ground. “The glass.” I shriek as I feel the shards cut into my knees.

“Open your fucking mouth. Now.” He demands as he undoes his jeans. My heart is racing as I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. When he pulls his dick out, I attempt to speak again but he grabs the back of my hair and forces himself all the way to the back of my throat as I choke.

“There we go. I’ve always wondered what you’d look like with that pretty mouth stuffed full with my cock.” He rasps as he pulls out to the tip of my tongue and plunges it back inside. I do my best to breathe through my nose as his assault continues. Tears cascade down my face as he continues to use me and I’m relieved when I feel him begin to twitch and my mouth fills with cum. “That’s a start.” He growls as he pulls out and I can finally breathe again. I didn’t have a chance to fully process what he just said before I’m spun around and my face was pressed into the floor. My cheek stings as I’m cut up all over again and I can’t even speak as my shorts are pulled off and panties pulled to the side. He buries his face in my pussy and I gasp as I try to pull away.

“Stop trying to run away from me, you need to be wet for the way I’m about to split you the fuck open.” He flicks my clit rapidly and I try my best to stay still to avoid the glass pushing deeper into my skin. “Didn’t take much though, did it? You just love being used don’t you princess?” He plunges two fingers into my aching hole and I moan into the floor trying to figure out if this is a sick dream because while I’ve thought about this, I never imagined it would be happening like this. I can hear how wet I am as his fingers slide in and out with ease, nudging that sweet spot with his rings and I’m already on the edge.

“J.” I cry as I start to tighten up and arch into his movements, no longer caring about the pain to other areas of my abused body.

“Cum already.” He coaxes and I’m relieved when I do. “Jesus, I hope you squeeze my cock the way you just squeezed my fingers.” He pulls them out, cleaning them off before replacing them with his cock.

“Fuck-I can’t.” I plead. He’s so thick and I feel like I’m being torn open. I’ve never felt so full.

“You need to relax. You’re so fucking tight that you’re pushing me out.” He groans as he continues pushing in all the way to the hilt. “Breathe, I know you can take it. I’m gonna make you.” He starts a punishing rhythm, one hand tight on my hip and the other pushing down on my back to keep me from moving.

“JJ, please.” I plead and he slaps his hand over my mouth but doesn’t miss a beat as he continues chasing his release.

“They are still out there searching for me, you really want the whole town to hear how helpless you are while I’m inside of you?” He mocks and seconds later, he’s pulling out and flipping us over, bringing me into a straddle on his lap. “You wanna cum again, you’re gonna have to work for it. Come on Y/N, use me like I used you.” He demands and I’m quick to action, sliding down hard then pushing him down to lie flat on his back. “Shit!” He hisses as glass cuts through his shirt, piercing his back.

“You’re a piece of shit!” I seethe as I bounce up and down, trying hard to take the control he granted me. His head flies back momentarily at the pleasure we both feel but I can tell he’s still angry with the way his fingertips bite into my hips.

“Yeah? And what does that make you?” He retorts as he tries to sit up and I slam him back down again. “Bitch.” He growls and I know it hurts. I lean down, capturing his mouth with a brutal kiss and biting down hard on his lower lip. The taste of blood forces it’s way into my mouth with his tongue. If he wants it rough, I’ll give it to him. Our teeth clash together as I take him deeper and deeper. He grabs the back of my hair, snapping my head back. “Come on, squeeze me good and hard one last time.” His teeth sink into my neck and that band snaps as my body shakes on top of him. I feel him twitch and then his hot ropes of cum are shooting inside of me. In the distance, I can make out the faint sounds of sirens as we struggle to get to our feet.

“J.” I warn.

“I know.” He quickly tucks himself back into his jeans as I put my shorts back on. Both cut up and used, he grabs my hand and we flee into the night.

[spidermanstealyohoe]

Hi, I love the way you write ♡. You could do some smut with Jenna or Tara, whatever you prefer. If it makes you uncomfortable just don't do it, don't worry.

wet dreams || t.c.

“now i'm in your wet dreams, said you don't know what it means”

__________

pairings: tara carpenter x gn reader

summary: tara starts having these… certain dreams about you, her enemy and roommate

warnings: language, smut

a/n: first time writing smut 😭 also send request guys i’m out of ideas

words: 1.0k+

__________

__________

tara woke up from her nap in cold sweat, heat between her thighs, ragged breath, and lustful eyes. she looked around the room to make sure you weren’t around.

but that only lasted a couple seconds until you came back in playing something on your phone, you noticed her weird demeanor and raised an eyebrow.

“you good?” you scoffed softly, sitting down on your desk chair. tara rolled her eyes still hot and bothered, her core aching to be touched as she squeezed her thighs together.

“i’m fine.” she responded with a huff as she wiped her forehead. you raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off, turning back to your computer, which had the brightness all the way up.

“do you have to have the brightness all the way up?” she asked annoyed, rubbing her eyes since her vision was still pretty blurry.

“because i can.” you shrugged making her groan softly, she slumped back down onto the mattress with a huff.

“someone’s moody…” you mumbled then all of the sudden you felt the back of your head get smacked with a pillow.

“hey!”

“you deserved it…”

you rolled your eyes in annoyance and turned back to the computer, tara on the other hand was still pretty well… lustful. she felt her heat grow more every time she thought back to the dream she just had.

her hand played with the strings of her sweatpants, folding with the fabric as she bit her bottom lip. you were too focused on whatever was on your computer, your back was turned to which made her desire to do something, she’d probably regret since you’re in the room.

her hand slipped down to the waistline of her sweatpants, her hand aching to go further down but she didn’t considering you were literally 10 feet away from her.

she could feel her heartbeat through her ears as she slowly went further down, she really tried not too but it was hard since she could feel her sensitive core throbbing. her hand made its way to her upper thigh, she bit back a whimper still making sure you were still focused on your computer.

her fingers slowly moved to her slick wet folds as she gasped softly then immediately covering her mouth, her gaze went to you to see if you were looking but thank god for those loud ass headphones you bought.

tara slowly moved her fingers in a circular motion trying not to make noise, she bit her lip and closed her eye, keeping one open in case you turned around. she’d probably die from embarrassment if she was caught touching herself and to you.

just as soon as she felt a knot in her stomach, you decided to turned around. she removed her hand from under her pants, her cheeks flushed and acted as if nothing happened.

“what?” you asked obvious to what she was doing as you raised a confused eyebrow at her and stood up to get something from your drawer.

“nothing…”

“you’re weird.” you mumbled lowly as you rummaged through your drawers, looking for something that tara didn’t care about right now. you found what you needed and went to go back to yourself desk until you saw tara giving you a glare.

“you look weird.” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as you glared at laying figure and flipped her off, “go fuck yourself.” then tara said something she’d probably never say in a million years, especially to you.

“fuck me yourself, you coward.”

you had to do a double take to make sure you hear right, at first you thought she was joking but when you took note of her serious expression, your heart sped up.

“what are you-“

“you heard me.”

you couldn’t tell if she was pranking you, you looked around the room for a camera or something but nope, nada.

“uhm…. oh.” tara stood up, walking towards you and grabbed the collar of your hoodie, pulling you down to her eye level, your noses brushing slightly against each others.

“you heard me… fuck me…”

“what’s gotten into you-“ before you could finish, she cut you off with her lips coming in contact with yours, her arms around your neck pulling you impossibly closer.

somehow you two stumbled onto her bed, rolling sound making out. the sound of lips smacking and her quiet sounds were heard around the room. you didn’t really know why you gave in so quickly, maybe because you could feel the tension since the day you met but who knows.

she grabbed your hand and lowered it down to her lower stomach, you instantly got the message of what she wanted and slowly moved your hand down to her waistline.

“please.” she begged softly, your eyes widen slightly since you’ve never seen her this submissive or vulnerable.

your hand trailed down to her upper thighs as she gasped loudly, clutching onto your shoulders, finger nails digging into your hoodie. you slowly moved to her slick folds, before she could let out a moan, you moved your lips together, teeth clashing as you felt her hips buck up to your hand.

your fingers moved in a circular motion as she let out little moans into the kiss, her hips rocking back and fourth into your hand as your pace slightly increased.

you could feel her body start to shake slightly in your hold as you kissed her neck, nippling on her sensitive skin. her hands tangled in your messy hair as your pace was fast and steady.

you could feel her body start to convulse as she let out a loud moan, her grip on your hair and back tightened as you helped her come down from her climax.

you two laid there for a moment as she was panting in your hold, you rubbed her belly softly as her breathing slowly went back to normal.

“we should do that more often…” she whispered softly as you raised an eyebrow and picked your head up to look at her, “are you high?” she smacked your shoulder at your words.

“ow, i was just asking…” you grumbled as you rubbed your shoulder, she raised an eyebrow with a slight smirk on her face.

“just shut up…” she grabbed your collar again and pushed her lips on yours again.

[webism]

★ sometimes, sukuna makes you ride his thigh instead of his lengthy fingers, or his sharp face or prodigious cock.

it's meant to be a punishment, a deprivation of what so often leaves you breathless and stupid, but you can't find fault in the muscled ridges of his thighs. maybe if your sharp-toothed lover was less active, less built, you'd struggle a bit more to find pleasure in his thigh.

you don't even know why you're being punished. it could be for your sharp tongue, or for touching yourself unpermitted, or for some other perceived sin. but as far as the space between you and ryomen stretches; he is the church and you are to kneel over his thick thigh and repent.

so repent you do. you rock your hips, grind down against his bare thigh as if seeking your own climax is apology enough for wronging your lover. if you wronged him, that is—sometimes sukuna punishes you unprovoked, the protests you give when you've really done nothing wrong get his dick hard. though you've cum more times you can count now, surely he can't punish you longer.

you can practically taste his cock it's so close, hard and throbbing and resting against his stomach just waiting to be doted on. you could reach out and grab it, and your fingers ache to feel the weight of his length against them, as does your tongue—but you know your ministries wouldn't go unpunished. and touching him when you're not permitted to doesn't reward you with the fun punishments like fucking yourself on his thigh; your ass would be sore for days.

"faster," his voice is steeled, painted nails digging into your hips. it hurts, how harshly he holds you, but it hurts in a searing way you'd miss if he were to let go. his touch is mean, you love it about him.

you oblige, rock your hips faster despite the sweat that pricks at your skin and the increasing work it takes for your lungs to provide you with enough oxygen to stay clear-headed. sukuna tsks, though, bares his teeth and forces you down harder against his solid thigh. it's a mess of your lust, glossy with your slick and you don't doubt he'll have you clean him up once you're too fucked out to think. perhaps with a cooling bath; perhaps with your tongue.

"you're a mess," he chides. "fucking filthy. stupid brat, so dumb and you're not even taking my cock. you couldn't."

harder, he presses your cunt against his thigh, pulls you to grind down on him. your desperation isn't lost on you, but sukuna's words prick at your stomach.

"i could. let me, please, i want—"

"you want?" he growls. "you don't want. you need my cock, brat, and i'm denying you a necessity."

you know he gets off on using you like this, playing with your threshold for pleasure. just how many orgasms can he rip out of you using his thigh alone? he's controlling your movements like you're the toy despite the lack of physical stimulation he gets from this. he's fucking you mindless and all he's doing is sitting nice and still for you.

when he manages another orgasm out of you, the slurred mewls of 'too much' falling of his deaf-by-choice ears, you realise your punishment isn't pleasure. it is the denial of himself: your newfound addiction, his reverent touch. he won't give you his cock, his tongue, his fingers or even the heel of his palm. all you get is his thigh, and you unravel from that alone. he finds it pathetic and all too erotic in the same breath.

is there really any denying you if he can draw pleasure from you using just the frame of his build?

thanks sutton for star hehe its so fun. i need to write more two-dick-sukuna writing him with one dick here felt wrong

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[loserlvrss]

𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 l. minho ( 이민호 )

synopsis | minho will always take care of who he loves, and you love that.

pairing : lee minho x fem!reader genre : drabble, domestic fluff warnings : mentions of being sick & food, skinship word count : 0.6k authors note : i know u know lee know btw

“just sit down,” your boyfriend was pushing you into the barstool beside the kitchen island.

your arms crossed over your front, features pouting. “you know, minho, i’m sick, not useless.” you exaggerated with your hands, swinging them out beside you. “i can—i can, i don’t know, cut up the carrot or something!”

he smiled adoringly at you, like one would a cute animal or small child, and shook his head. “what kind of chef boyfriend would i be if i made you do the work?”

you rolled your eyes, knowing that it was ultimately useless to argue with the lee minho; he’d get what he wanted in the end. and frankly, you weren’t good at cooking. that’s why you two worked so well, he had his little hobby to destress and you were always fed. a win-win.

so, when you woke up in the middle of the night with a stomach ache, only sleeping a couple hours after that, he was quick to jump into the kitchen. he wanted to make you something his mom would make when he was sick as a kid—you found the gesture sickeningly sweet. he must really love you, you thought.

he’d gotten started in silence. usually he’d let you talk about everything and nothing at the same time, but he’d never pry if you didn’t feel like it. and, today must’ve been one of those days, as you just watched with closed lips.

he looked so beyond good when he cooked—arguably better than the food. and nothing was more attractive than his desire to take care of you. he didn’t even go back to sleep until he knew you were okay, trailing you into the bathroom and getting you medicine before you even asked. he made sure you were warm and properly cuddled under the blankets (in his arms), rubbing your back until peacefully off in dreamland.

honestly, you owe those couple of hours to him.

“hey, minho?” the silence was finally broken, your boyfriend stopping all his movements for a second and looking at you. his eyebrows rose in a non-verbal approval to go on and ask. “i know we’re already dating, but i have a big crush on you. i just thought you should know.”

he huffed out a laugh, “is that so?”

“yeah, in case you want to do anything with that knowledge.” you admitted innocently, “like marriage or something.”

“i plan on it, love.”

you made a face, something between disbelief, mock-disgust and blushing. “if you were over here i’d kiss you… thrice.”

he eyed you suspiciously, “you just didn’t want to say twice ‘cause then i’d start dancing to alcohol free.”

“maybe,” you joked, getting from your chair and making your way around the counter. he pretended to be offended, steadily chopping up the various vegetables again, and ignoring you. “you know i love your one-man show, baby.”

he smirked slightly—though you couldn’t see—but still was childishly giving you the silent treatment. you pleaded, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his clothed spine once, before pressing your cheek to it. “there’s literally no one else i’d rather listen to sing red velvet while they shower.”

“i knew you listened, weirdo.” he chuckled, “if you wanted me to sing to you, i would, you don’t have to creep around.”

you lightly squeezed, “oh, shut up.”

and then suddenly he burst out into song, scaring you, but then sending you into a fit of giggles as the choreography soon followed; the knife safely out of his grip.

you watched in awe of his playfulness, disguised by straight lips and lidded eyes. you really couldn’t read a book by its cover, you thought, because this stupidly-handsome book always knew how to make you feel better.

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[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐫

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k (LMAOOO)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Post-Divorce, shared custody, injury and stitching in the beginning, heavy angst, arguing, Jealous!Miguel, fall out, mentions of infidelity and pregnancy, EVENTUALLY SMUT, PIV unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating (we’re getting nasty nasty), brief breeding kink

𝐀/𝐍: This is inspired by @yougavemeyourheartyouknow baby daddy AU. I didn’t think this one would get this lengthy but here we are I guess.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Divorce was supposed to bring closure, but for Miguel, it only fuelled a lingering ache for the woman he still loved. Convincing himself that ending the marriage was for your benefit, he didn't realise the depth of his mistake until he saw you moving on.

Miguel hissed when he felt the rubbing alcohol being smeared onto the wound across his abdomen with a cotton pad. A sharp scent of disinfectant wove through the air, tingling his nostrils and it mingled with the faint aroma of coffee you both had earlier.

There he was, perched on the sofa in his ex-wife’s living room, hair damp from sweat as you patch him up after another mission as Spider-Man — an event he never anticipated would happen to him at two in the morning.

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere,” he spattered out as he felt another stinging wave from the alcohol. You gaze up at him from his wound that you were focused on before you spoke.

“Sorry, I thought you had a higher pain tolerance,” you said, dabbing the wound gently.

“I do, but that doesn’t give you license to be rough with me like that,” he mumbled. Despite the divorce, he knew you’d never do anything to hurt him.

You both remained friends as your marriage never worked out between the two of you. You would patch him up whenever he needed it— he would rather have you take care of him just to feel your touch than have a random nurse.

As the blood cleared from the open cut, you could see the gash more visibly now. A villain's blade had slashed across him deep enough to leave a large wound that won’t heal on its own.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” you got up from the seat to go to the bathroom before coming back with your kit. Miguel sank further into the plush cushion of the sofa, feeling the fabric yield under his weight.

His heart twisted with a mix of guilt and gratitude as he watched you tend to his wound. He grimaced slightly at the pinch of the needle on his skin but your hands were delicate, careful not to further damage the delicate area.

He sat still motionless as his eyes were glued to you. It was easy to admire you and how concentrated you were right now. You were always nurturing and wanted the best for people you cared about. Your brows furrowed as you kept working on the cut.

“Jesus Miguel…” you whispered, taking in the sheer size of his cut.

“What?” He asked, tilting his head in mock confusion. “It’s not that bad, you know I’ve had worse. You’ve treated worse than this,”

Even if you were divorced and not together by law, he still cherished these moments with you. You were still the same woman he loved.

Watching you fix him up made him feel like things were almost back to normal again— that he was home and his wife was here to get him back on his feet. Until reality would set in.

“I know. It’s almost like you’re testing your own durability,” there was an obvious worry etched in your voice as you were finishing up stitching his wound. It made his stomach churn with silent longing.

“That cut? You really think that’s a test for durability?” He arched his brow inquisitively. He knew it was a big gash but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“That was nothing more than me not paying attention. But this one however…" he pointed to his bruised shoulder, "that was a test for durability. I got smashed through a wall,”

You peered up at him momentarily, a flicker of disturbance in your eyes, before you silently resumed his last stitches.

Silence fell between you as the faint hum of the city filtered through the window, punctured by the occasional sirens and car horns.

“All done,” you announced, leaning back to examine your work.

He sat up from the couch carefully, making sure not to put too much strain on the fresh stitches. “Gracias,”

“Don’t forget to drink your fluids,” you reminded him.

“Sí sí. You sound like an overprotective mother,”

“Well…I just so happen to have a daughter,” you gave a soft smile. Out of everything that had happened in your marriage, he would forever be grateful that you gave him a daughter.

Watching Gabriella grow was a profound blessing that he would never take for granted. Fatherhood had made him learn a lot about himself that he never knew he could harbour, fostering a newfound level of patience and empathy within him.

And now, as Gabriella was approaching her fifteenth birthday, Miguel couldn’t help but reflect on how quickly the years had passed. He would soon be preparing for her quinceañera with you, a milestone that seemed to arrive in a blink of an eye.

“And do you tell her to drink her fluids as much as you tell her papá?” He asked in a slight tease.

“You know I do and I tell her to eat her greens,” you replied, matching his lighthearted tone.

His heart soared at the fond memories. You were always an amazing mother, a role that bloomed naturally from you as soon as you gave birth to your daughter and held her in your arms for the first time.

He didn’t think he could fall for you more until he saw you nurse your baby for the first time with a tender look in your eyes. He hated the fact that he wasn’t there to witness those precious moments of you bonding with your daughter enough when he had the chance to.

“I’m surprised Gabi hasn’t picked up any of your bad habits,”

“Bad habits like what?”

“You know…the irresponsible stuff,” he chuckled, clearly getting a rise out of you. “You should’ve seen her last weekend. She called the guy you’re seeing a ‘cabrón’”

An uneasy tension knotted in chest after he broached the subject of your date, almost like he was dreading to hear what you were going to say.

He was never thrilled about the topic, just as he never was when you spoke about anything to do with other men. However, he didn’t expect to see your face drop, like the topic hit a raw nerve.

“She said that?” You voice was hesitant and he noticed shoulders slump and your brows furrowed.

Either you were uncomfortable with Gabriella’s candid remark towards your date or you didn’t like that she was cursing at her age.

“She did. Look I heard what she said but she’s probably just saying that to sound grown up. She is a teenager and the hormones make them go nuts,”

“Sure I guess,”

“Try not to take it personally,” he reached out to hold your hand and tried to reassure you, even if hearing Gabriella cursing wasn’t the best thing a father should let slide.

“I’m not upset about that,” you droned.

“Your tone says otherwise,”

“There’s something I want to discuss with you,” Your demeanor shifted into something more serious and you were avoiding eye contact with him which made him uneasy. “If I’m going to keep dating him, I can’t patch you up like this anymore,”

Miguel swallowed thickly, processing what you had just told him. “You’re not meaning…”

“Yes,”

He felt an uncomfortable pull in his gut and his heart felt like it was about the leap out of his throat. “You can’t be serious,”

“It won’t be fair on him if I’m still friends with the man I was married to,” Miguel couldn’t help but scoff at that, but he couldn’t call it stupid.

A small part of him knew that you were right. How could any man feel safe when his new woman was still close with her ex-husband, her ex who still loved and pined for her? But he wasn’t going to stand for that.

“And since when did I care if it’s fair on him?” He snapped back.

For a split second, Miguel could feel the cool platinum of the wedding band that he still hasn’t removed from his finger. It served him a bitter reminder that he was still not over you. He hoped you wouldn’t bring it up, especially now.

“This isn’t just about you,” there was a sharpness in your tone when you said that, whether it was intentional or not it still cut deep. You continued to pour salt on the wound as you added on, “Don’t act like you didn’t sign those divorce papers too,”

“Stop it, don’t you think I know that. I was naive to think that a divorce was going to solve anything,” Those damn divorce papers. Thinking about it made the knife that was already stabbing his heart twist further.

If there was anything he regretted the most in life, it would be sitting down in the courtroom and signing those papers that finalised your parting.

Now, he had to watch you go on a date with someone else because he pushed you away. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, frustration knotting in his chest.

“You know why we had to file the divorce,” you said.

Miguel’s mind went spiraling and he wanted to sink into the floor. He was fully aware that he was the one to blame for this. The long hours he spent away as Spider-Man, the growing distance between the two of you— it all led to a rift that tore you apart.

He initiated the divorce, convinced it was for the best. Your marriage was standing on its last leg and he didn’t want to waste your time.

Even if there was no bad blood between the two of you and you decided to stick to being friends after, it didn’t make things hurt any less. Miguel still craved more of you and he missed his chance when he had it.

But now the consequences of his decision were biting him in the ass and the prospect of his biggest fear was coming to fruition. He couldn’t stop you from dating again and he hated it.

“Even if we do stick to being friends, we’re going to be more distant than we were before,” you further explained.

Miguel stared silently as you stood up from the couch and kept going. Each word uttered from you was punctuated with agony that was piercing his heart. “You’re not going to be able to have me like you used to Miguel, not the way that you want,”

He knew he was starting to be selfish now and he had no right to be jealous when he failed you as a husband. He was fully aware of the point you were making and the logic behind it but he still refused to let it go.

Finally he spoke after a long while, “I’d rather have a part of you than none of you,”

“Do you truly believe that you’ll be satisfied with that in the long run?”

Realistically, no. But he wasn’t going to admit that to you. He didn’t want to be a bystander in your life and witness you bounce back and love someone again that wasn’t him.

But despite that, he still wanted to stay because there was still a small part of him that was grasping onto straws, hoping that you will take him back and you’ll be his again.

But how long could he accept the scraps of you that you’d throw at him before it got too unbearable? It was ironic— the main cause of his wounds that you just patched up right now, the life of Spider-Man, was the reason why you both drifted apart.

“If it wasn’t for our shared custody that’s tying us down, I would’ve said we should’ve cut off a long time ago,”

Those words hurt more than Miguel let on. He rose from the couch and limped towards you, hissing from the sting of the wounds. “Don’t say that, I’m the father of your child—”

“And that’s all you’ll ever be,” Miguel winced internally.

He didn’t know what hurt more, you interjecting or the fact that you only saw him as a co-parent to your daughter. But the latter was definitely going to have a lasting effect on him.

He was going to reach out for you, but you turned your back to him. He had nothing to say now and this could be the last time you would be this warm and open with him.

Without uttering another word, he tapped on his watch to engage his suit before moving towards the window. A moment before he shot his webs to hoist himself away, you spoke one last time.

“You have Gabi for next weekend.”

He merely nodded at your words before he disappeared into the night, swallowing his frustration and disappointment. His web shooters echoed through the streets.

His mood drastically changed the moment he left your comforting apartment to the chaos of Nueva York— it was almost palpable.

His web shot out, catching onto the building he was aiming for. He landed against the wall with a gentle thud before he turned back to look at your apartment from afar. This was going to be the last time he could swing by your apartment through your window freely and his heart was already aching for you.

~

Miguel headed up to your apartment and rapped at the door. It didn’t take long before he saw Gabriella answering the door to him.

She had a duffle bag full of her clothes for the weekend and her phone was in one hand. He gave her a warm smile and kissed her forehead.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied casually.

Miguel’s line of sight went past Gabi and further into the house. You weren’t anywhere near the door.

He didn’t know what it was but Miguel felt a pull that was coaxing him to go to you. For a moment, he was conflicted whether or not he should see you. But eventually he caved in to his desires and stepped into the house.

“Where’s you mom?” Miguel asked.

“She’s in the bathroom taking a shower, I think,” Gabi replied before her attention was drawn into her phone screen.

“Stay here. I’ll be back,” Miguel padded over to the bathroom with cautious steps. It had been six months since your friendship had broken off, and he didn’t know what to expect when you saw him in your home.

His palms were sweating, and he could feel every pulse in his body. Part of him thrived off the anticipation that was building up to the moment but the other part was screaming at him to turn back and just leave you alone.

The bathroom door was ajar but the shower wasn’t running. He could see from the gap that you definitely weren’t taking a shower.

He found you sitting in the walk in shower with your knees tucked into your chest. You were wearing a tank top and some sweatpants. He pushed open the door further so he could get a better look at you.

Your eyes looked foggy but he could still see the redness around the rim from crying moments earlier. It almost looked like you were in a dissociative state, and for a moment, he thought you didn’t acknowledge him until you spoke.

“Gabi’s stuff is at the front door,” you mumbled. Your voice sounded hoarse and wavering as if it took extra effort for you to speak.

“Yeah, I saw,” he replied, keeping his response short so he wouldn’t overstep any boundaries. The last thing he wanted was to open the door to more problems.

“So why are you here?”

Miguel didn’t know how to respond without eliciting a negative reaction from you. He didn’t want to tell you the full truth, but he also couldn’t think of an excuse for your question either.

He couldn’t leave your question hanging longer than it already has, so he opened his mouth to speak, even if he didn’t know what to say “I…was just checking Gabi got everything,”

The nagging urge to reach out to you, to touch you, was getting harder to ignore with each passing second he was in your presence.

Seeing you this vulnerable in the bathroom was tormenting and it was not something he was expecting to see. He didn’t know how to inquire about your well-being without sounding invasive.

“Are you okay?”

Clearly not. You shook your head mutely. At least you were being honest. Miguel cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s pathetic,”

“It’s not pathetic if it got you crying like that,”

Seeing you on the bathroom floor like this sent him back fifteen years earlier where you were in the same position, except you didn’t look so ghostly.

Both of you were holding each end of the pregnancy test, nervousness etched in both of your faces as you anticipated for the results.

Miguel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze feeling the clammy warmth of your skin against his. Your eyes remained glued to the test in front of you, time seemingly slowing to a crawl.

The moment you saw the double lines appear, you broke down into tears and sobbed into his chest from pure joy. Miguel’s heart stuttered as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

The news that you were going to be parents cremated his love for you even more. You couldn’t stop crying and wouldn’t release him that night— your grip was like titanium.

He didn’t mind carrying you to bed though, the weight of you in his arms grounding him in a sense of euphoria that washed over him now.

Seeing you now, so different yet so achingly familiar, brought a lump to his throat. He heard your voice again and was brought back to the present.

“He…” the word was lodged in your throat. Miguel could feel a tinge of rage brewing in him with a mixture of his protective instincts. He knew you were talking about your current boyfriend the moment the word left your lips.

“He cheated,” you stated. Miguel's anger flared and he balled his fist tightly, struggling to contain the rolling emotions threatening to spill out. Even if he didn’t show his anger outwardly, you still knew him well enough to pick up on the signs.

“Please I’m begging you, don’t do anything rash. I’ll heal from this, but the last thing I want is you getting involved,” he heard your plea, and seeing your upset expression made him push aside his heated thoughts.

He was inadequate when it came to being your devoted husband, so what made him believe that he could be your hero in this situation.

He didn’t want to do anything that would further upset you; he had already overstepped your boundaries by trying to reconnect with you.

But now that you’ve broken things off with your boyfriend, could this be an opportunity to rekindle your friendship? Maybe something more. He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

His heart was trying to root him to stay but his intuition was tugging at him to go. It was clear that you didn’t want to talk about it further with him.

As much as it bothered him, there was nothing he could do. After all, you were a grown woman, and you were free to keep things to yourself.

You didn’t owe him anything even if he was your ex-husband— if anything that was probably more reasons why you shouldn’t share anything with him.

“I think I should be getting going, Gabi’s waiting,” he turned around and reached for the door, trying to conceal his disappointment.

“Wait—” you called out. He halted. “Are you planning to do anything later?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” You asked meekly. He mulled it over for a moment. He suspected that you didn’t want to be alone after what you’ve experienced and he was glad that he was the one that could keep you company.

“If it would make you feel better, then of course,” his tone was warmer and his muscles relaxed at the thought of spending an evening with you.

There was still that underlying anger he felt towards you ex who had the galls to betray you like that behind your back.

But that was overshadowed by the newfound seed of hope that was planted in his heart— that things might get better between the two of you.

You rose up from the shower floor and washed your tear stained face before you both got out of the bathroom together.

~

Miguel felt the rush of wind brushing past him as he swung over from building to building to get to his destination. His movements were fueled by determination and yearning.

It wasn’t long until he could see the soft glow of your bedroom light filtering through the curtains. He paused outside of your apartment, contemplating how things would turn out. What was he doing here? What was he hoping to achieve? All he knew was that he couldn’t stay away no matter how hard he tried.

With a sigh, he slipped into the open window and pushed past the curtains. He found you settled on your bed with the bedside lap on. You glanced at him, showing that you had acknowledged him but you didn’t give him your full attention.

“Gabi’s staying over at my parents’ house,” you said dismissively. Part of him was glad that Gabi wasn’t around— he didn’t want her to witness how vulnerable he was right now and the tension between her parents.

“I’m not here for Gabi,” he replied, his voice steady but his heart racing.

The apartment felt different than normal— almost hollow even though nothing much had changed physically the last time he was here. Maybe the feeling was from the absence of warmth between the two of you

“Do you need me to patch you up again?” You asked incredulously, still not looking at him.

“I’m not here for that either,”

Finally, you look back at him, waiting to see what he had to say.

It took a few seconds before he could trust himself to speak again, but to him it felt like a lifetime. The words he had rehearsed mentally over and over finally spilled.

“I came here to apologise, for everything. I neglected you and wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now how much I’ve hurt you,”

There was an uncomfortable silence that stretched out for a while. Your face was unreadable, blank of any emotion and Miguel couldn’t tell what was going through your head. There wasn’t even a twitch in your expression that he could pick up on.

“Now he says he’s sorry,” your voice carried a bitterness that threw him off. You climbed off your bed and took a few steps away, facing your back to him.

Miguel’s heart sank in disbelief.

“Are you really going to give me the cold shoulder now?” He climbed down the windowsill and stepped further into your room towards you. “Look, I know it’s a late apology, but I need you to understand how much I regret pushing you away. Please just hear me out,”

“Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? You left me alone. You were never there, always busy in another dimension or saving the multiverse while our marriage fell apart.”

“I was trying to protect you!” His voice escalated in volume. “Everything I did, I did it for you and Gabi,”

“Protect me?” You scoffed. “By pushing me away? All you did was made me feel like I wasn’t important enough to fight for,”

Miguel gritted his teeth, feeling his frustration surfacing. “You think I didn’t suffer? Every time I left, it tore me apart. But I thought it was something I had to do,”

“You thought wrong,”

Suddenly all those gloomy memories came rushing to him like a tidal wave. He could see the images of your lonely silhouette sitting at the dining table, waiting for a husband who never came home.

The empty bed that felt colder each night he wasn’t there.

The guilt that had been lingering since the divorce now crashed down like a storm on him, suffocating him.

“I know I made mistakes and I didn’t prioritise our marriage. But I never stopped loving you, not for a second,” He said, his voice softened, almost in a pleading manner.

“Really?” You said, your tone cutting. “Did seeing me move on and go on another date make you suddenly come to your senses?”

Miguel’s jaw clenched at that. He didn’t like that you saw him that way but he couldn’t blame you for coming to that conclusion. “That’s not fair, I was trying to do what’s best for us. I didn’t want to hold you back,”

“You didn’t want to hold me at all, Miguel. Do you really think that you could swing by into my apartment and fix everything with an apology?”

“No…” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair before his voice lowered, “But I would regret it everyday if I didn’t try. Losing you was the biggest mistake of my life,”

His mind was racing, remembering the warmth of you embracing and how you would fit perfectly together. “I miss the way we used to be, I missed the way you would melt in my arms, I miss coming home to you,”

“Kiss me,”

“What?” He gave you a puzzled look. “After everything that I’ve done to you, you want me to kiss you?”

“If you’re really sorry, you would kiss me,”

Miguel hesitated— his mind was conflicted, torn between his guilt and your command. For a moment he didn’t move, studying your face to see if you had an ulterior motive to all of this. Was this a test or a chance at redemption?

But eventually, he caved in and leaned in until his lips met yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first as he was holding back from overwhelming you.

His lips slowly parted, and he softly whispered into your mouth. “I’m so sorry,”

He heard you moan softly in response and his chest clenched. He couldn’t believe he had that much of an effect on you just from a kiss.

His hands reached over to the back of your head firmly before his lips pressed hard on your lips, not wanting to miss a single moment of you were sharing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

You clung onto him, your kiss hungry and desperate, as if trying to erase all the pain and distance between the two of you.

After everything you’ve been through, you’ve still had a tight grip on him, and it was killing him little by little. But he would happily give himself to you without a second thought.

He pulled away and his lips trailed over your jaw. All the hostility from you melted away as he continued to kiss over your face and neck. He could visibly sense the tension easing from your body as your breath hitched.

He pulled his face away from your neck to look at you in the eyes. “Needy,”

“Says you,”

“Yeah? I’m not the one who asked to be kissed though,”

“You and I both know that you wanted it just as much as I did,”

“Hmm maybe. Do you know what else I want?”

“I might have an idea,” you finished off your sentence by grinding your hips against his own. He let out a stuttered moan at the touch before a smile crept across his face.

So shameless.

He felt the heat creeping to his groin and translating to a growing erection. His dick was painfully hard now and you continued to grind your hips, using his erection to get more friction.

His face heated up when he heard your desperate whines. You were so needy for him right now and that was only stroking his ego.

He pulled away from your embrace and disengaged his suit with his watch to reveal his nude body in its full glory— his throbbing dick was the most prominent view.

He saw you gawking at the precum that was spilling from the tip— an amused smile played on your lips before you looked back up at him. “Look who’s needy now.”

Hearing your smug remark brought him a wave of nostalgia, something he missed when making love to you. But it also ignited something in him— a growing desire to take you and make you eat your words.

He grasped onto the hem of your silky nightgown and pulled them up so he could reach to your undies to pull them down. Swiftly, he lifted your legs up and wrapped them around his waist before effortlessly pinned you against the wall.

He knew he was being desperate and skipping most of the foreplay tonight, but he didn’t care. He needed to feel you clench around him, his body will hate him if he delayed it longer.

Positioning himself against your folds, he could already feel your wetness paint his tip. You were soaked just for him and only him— just how it should be.

He pushed himself in and your mouth hung from the overwhelming stretch from his dick. Feeling the grip you had was almost enough to knock the winds out of him. He halted when he was halfway, gauging the sight of you.

A sense of familiarity washed over him when he saw your face warp while struggling to take him in. Your brows were furrowed and your mouth was agape, slowly drowning in the bliss he was giving you.

You let out a startled moan when he slammed the rest of him in with a lewd slap.

“Go slow…please. I need time to adjust,” you breathed, voice coming out staggered. He kissed the corner of your mouth in acknowledgment. He dragged himself out before rolling his hips in, keeping a steady rhythm so he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.

It was easier to feel and hear how wet you were with his slow and shallow pace. He had been yearning for this moment for too long and now that he could finally have you like this, everything felt more intense.

You were finally his again and it almost felt too good to be real.

He rested his forehead against you, watching through his hazy eyes how responsive you were to him and picking up every micro expression.

The room filled with your soft moans as he kept thrusting into you. Your labored breaths merged with your lips inches away. He could feel his peak crawling in and he made sure to reach the deepest part of your crevice before he unraveled inside you.

Having his release fill you up again was dizzying. Carefully, he put you back down onto your feet again and you leaned onto his chest for stability until you regained your balance.

He kept holding you close with his body pressing flushed against yours and catching your breaths in silence. A short moment passed before you looked up at him.

“Let me taste you, please.” You said. It wasn’t a question. Hearing the way you requested that in such a sultry way made his cock twitch and he was whipped all over again.

He could feel the heat rush to his cock and his erection forming. “You want a taste? How can I say no?”

He pulled himself away from you and perched on your bed, spreading his thighs to display is dick standing on its end. He let out a sharp exhale as he watched you go down on your knees for him and settled between his legs.

Miguel tensed when he felt your hand clasped around his length, grappling onto the bed sheet to steady himself. The after effect of his previous climax was still tingling and coursing through him.

“Easy…don’t overdo it,” he muttered, his hip stuttered slightly.

You look up at him and he could feel a new string of precum drawing out from the tip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,”

Your tongue grazed along the tip, and you were collecting your own wetness that coated his dick from earlier along with his precum. You were so eager and yet so gentle, it was overwhelming.

You were too good and it was getting to his head. Everything about you was enticing. You gave the head of his cock a few kitten licks and he let out a groan, his hand reaching over to the back of your head.

It took every fiber of him not to buck his hip and shove him all the way into your mouth. He had to squeeze his eyes shut when he felt the warmth of your mouth around the tip. He let out another pleasurable moan, arching into your touch.

The sensitivity in his body continued to soar through him and the feeling of your mouth was enough to drive him up the walls.

You’re so good. How are you always so good at this.

More precum beaded up from his tip and gently leaked down into your mouth— he heard you hum from the taste. You lowered your head until you had his full length in his mouth.

His eyes fly open from the sudden sensation and he looked down to see you eying up at him. You carried a soft look in you eyes even while doing something lascivious. It was enough to disarm the coldest of souls; he couldn’t help but caress your cheeks right now.

“Eres tan hermosa en este momento,” he mumbled, still in a hazy trance. His nerves were firing and he threw his head back, getting lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

Before he could register it, he was shaking and trembling when his orgasm came crashing down again. Ropes and ropes of his jizz squirted into your mouth. His eyes were unfocused, and it took him several deep breaths before he could find his voice again.

“Ay por dios…”

He still felt sparks from his high and his mind was absolutely buzzed. The lewd sound of you swallowing him down send a shiver crawling down his spine and his stomach fluttering.

His head dropped against the pillows from exhaustion, still panting. He felt the bed shift when you lie besides him and nussled against his chest.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he confessed, kissing the crown of your head.

“I can still taste you,” you teased. He responded lift your chin up to look at him and caught your lips in a gentle kiss. He was insatiable and he didn’t want to stop feeling your touch after having been deprived of it for so long.

He was quick to slip his tongue into your mouth and map out the familiar heat that he loved so much. The taste of himself was barely lingering in your mouth.

His mind was spinning from everything— the taste of your lips, the smell of your arousal and the sound of your low moans as he kissed you deeper.

All the little ways you responded to him was enough to give him the energy to turn you over on your stomach. His straddling on your back and his hard on sat at the base of your rear, between each globe of your cheeks.

“Hard again, eh?,” you quipped, turning your head to look at him.

But your demeanor quickly shifted when he began to push himself in, keeping his pace measured and slow. You started gripping and kneading the sheet from the feeling and muffled your moans into the pillow.

“Don’t hide from me,” he muttered, leaning in before his teeth nipped at your earlobe. You lifted your head from the pillow instinctively, letting out a startled noise.

He continued to slide himself in and out of you while simultaneously kiss along the curse of your neck from behind— each thrust was measured and calculated so you’d feel everything from him.

“Do I make you feel good, amor?” He moaned in your ear before he started to build a faster rhythm. Your noises became more urgent and he could tell you were desperately chase your high.

Each thrust pushed you further into the sheet. A guttural moan ripped from you as you clenched around him and reached your impending climax. He felt your come around him, taking him closer to the edge.

He pulled out momentarily, turning you around so you lied on your back and rested your legs on his shoulders. He didn’t give you a chance to prepare before he bottomed out.

He started thrusting inside you with little to no exit before hand. He didn’t pull his cock all the way but rather dragged himself slightly back before slamming back in relentlessly. The rough pace only milked more moans and sweet noises out of you, encouraging him to keep going.

Your voice was becoming frantic mixed with your moans and he almost missed when you spoke.

“Breed me,”

It took a moment for the words to register in your head and he felt his mind go hazy from your request. It wasn’t a question, but an order. You wanted this more than anything. His thought were filled of you, being bred by him and carrying another child and marking you as his again.

“Make me a mami again,”

This gave him extra motivation now. Each time, his thrusts became more and more sporadic and losing it’s rhythm. The bed creaked in protest from his pace. With one final stroke, he pushed as much of himself inside you and filled you up with your seeds again.

But he wasn’t done. He pulled himself away so he could slip two fingers into your swollen pussy. He gathered the remnants of your shared release onto the pad of his fingers before he held them near your mouth.

Pressing his thumb against your lower lip, he gently lowered it down and watched in awe as you opened your mouth. He pressed his fingers in so you could get a taste and let out a low groan, feeling your mouth suckle on the cum that was clinging onto his fingers.

“Can you taste how good we are together, amor?”

He kept watching you intently until he slipped his fingers out and reached over to kiss your forehead. You look spend and your breathing became laboured.

Miguel perched onto the bed besides you again, gulping to moisture his dry mouth. He had spent so many nights alone, haunted by the nights of his decision that led to your divorce.

Being in bed with you alone, naked and drenched in the afterglow felt surreal. He didn’t think he would ever experience this again.

“Have I told you that I never stopped loving you,” he whispered with raw emotions. Even if he did already tell you, he wanted you to know that he meant every word. It was never about falling out of love but rather about protecting you and his daughter— his family.

Your eyes met his. “I know. But love wasn’t enough to keep us together,”

“I know that now. But I want to make things right, if you let me,” The air that was static with tension was now starting to flourish with new possibilities.

“I don’t know if things will be back to the way they were, but let’s take it a step at a time,” you kissed his mouth.

You pulled away and rose from the bed. “But I want to take a shower first, care to join me?”

He gave you a mischievous look and he was liking where this was going. “Lead the way, cariño,”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @maiyart @lazyjellyfish300 @mrsoharaa @truth-dare-spin-bottles @farrowroyale

@amberbalcom14 @blvd-sourz @bluesidez @slushycoookie @prettygirleli

@saintdiior @peachipeachy @xyziiix @mybvalentine @c4rm1son

@annavatar @scaryplanetdestroyer

You know normally in a situation where the character gets back with reader, you’d expect them to get all possessive and primal and whatnot. I didn’t want to showcase that dominant dynamics here. Not my cup of tea ewewew I kinda liked that I got reader to tease Miguel too and they still had their back and forth even after everything

Ayrus xoxo