#but now his outfit needs to actually be practical ):

[smallestapplin]

Hellooo! Good evening or um good morning so yea I was watching G1 transformers and canonically mirage is like loaded like he's from the upper class. So I um immediately thought that he's sugar daddy material. Like man only picks the finest/expensive cars even from G1. So I'm asking for like um sugar daddy mirage with a human female reader and since he doesn't know how to woo her, he practically buys her attention and time. Like he enjoys watching her spend his money. Casually suggesting that a top that he sees while she's scrolling on her phone and says that it would fit her and that she should buy it. Coincidentally, the color of the top matches his paint. Omg I've made this long huhu now I feel shy. 😿😿

Wait this is actually so cute and funny, I love it. I hope I did this right for you!💖

-

-

Mirage isn’t use to human ways of living and courtship, but he tries so hard to be friendly and welcoming, he wants you to know he’s safe to go to for anything! But falling for you wasn’t on that list, you’re such a tiny thing compared to him, he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

But how could he not? You’re so funny, so kind, always helping him learn more about your culture and Earth in general, even if that means he won’t ever live down calling a trees ‘organic speed stoppers’, but your laughter made it all the more worth it to embarass himself.

Mirage isn’t sure how to court you the human way, so why not his way? It’s not like he can ask anyone either, lest the tell you or make fun of him for falling for a human.

He shows off, racing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe often, doing dangerous stunts, taking sharp turns, making sure he’s flashy enough for you in his alt mode. He lives for your cheers, lives on your priase. The twins know what he’s doing, it’s what ever racer does to gain the affection of someone.

Yet you don’t pick up on that, you gush over him sure, telling him how cool that was! How cool he is! But it doesn’t seem to click, not that Mirage can fault for you that, you’ve never had anyone court you like that.

So, why not gifts? Gifts are a universal love language that can’t go wrong!

“Mirage, you really didn’t have to get me anything, being with you is more than enough.”

How you have him wrapped around your tiny organic digit, making him swoon and spark pulse.

“It’s no problem, really! I wanna show you how much I care about you, so it wasn’t difficult to find a way to buy things for ya!”

He’s too kind, even bought everything himself after hacking (very easily) into your phone and used his own funds to spoil you. Until he got a com from you the day all the packages arrived.

“How many things did you buy me!?”

“Eh, it wasn’t costly so I don’t really remember.”

“Wasn’t costly? Mirage, this must’ve cost my life’s savings!”

You thank him over and over and over again, but he doesn’t mind, always smiling at you and simply asking if you liked what he bought you. It makes your cheeks burn when he does that, asking so sweetly, honestly you might think he’d have an ulterior motive.

The skirts, the dresses, the tops all ranging fm cozy to cute to flirty, pants much the same, he’s even bought you expensive consoles, games, and even things you complained about needing to replace or needing in general.

Each time you cry he doesn’t need to buy you anything, yet the large bot just looks at you with hearts in his optics telling you it’s fine.

Soon nearly sixty percent of your outfits are all things he’s bought you, like a silent claim over you, you can’t move in your home without being reminded of him.

But then that top came in, the one he had been waiting for, and once it did he didn’t bother trying to hide his want to see it. He sits in your drive way in his alt mode, awaiting to see how you look, and by the all spark he’s nt disapppointed.

“Does it look okay?”

You aren’t exactly a big fan of crop tops, but the high waisted jeans you are wearing cover you enough to feel comfortable. The crop top itself is loose and flowy, honestly you could see yourself wearing it around more in the house.

It’s mainly blue with tie dyed black, white, and red, matching his colors perfectly.

You look stunning.

You jump a little, hearing his engines rev loudly. You laugh softly at the display.

“I take it you like it?”

“Remind me to get you a sporty top in those colors.” He sounds near breathless.

“My, Mirage, if i didn’t know any better I’d say you just want us to match.” You tease, laughing at how his engine outright purrs at your words.

Oh, if only you knew how right you were.

Matching, like a couple, like the couple he desperately wants you two to be, loudly claiming you as his.

[sysig]

Leftovers gone bad (Patreon)

[lucalicatteart]

A character reference sheet sort of thing for the main character of the Poll Adventures, drawn more in my usual style (taking a picture of messy pencil sketches then coloring it digitally lol) rather than the cutesy ms paint style of the daily poll images .. there he is.. the adventure boy..

[terrified-spider]

Okay, so my Call of Cthulhu group (originally my CoS group) have shifted from our CoC game to a Ravenloft campaign, with much more episodic sessions that will be easier for me to prep and run weekly. We're setting it after the events of the CoS campaign, with Ezmerelda returning to van Richten's home in Mordent, using it as a base of operations as she recruits individuals from across the Domains of Dread for adventuring work.

Thanks to it being set within the same universe, NPCs from the pervious game will likely make an appearance, and I get to make some updated designs for them (:

The current list of NPCs carrying over includes:

Ezmerelda, gaunt and tired from a lack of human blood, with some new scars obtained during the CoS campaign but never included in the art I made. She technically made it to the end of the CoS campaign, but not without becoming a vampire and having her skull crushed in. She got better, sort of. Now, her and Erasmus get to hang out in Mordent while she stuggles to find ethically sourced blood.

Escher, who's living his best unlife after leaving Barovia and returning to adventuring, now with Gertruda at his side. I'm going to have to fight like hell to make sure I don't make him look like Astarion, because from what I know of BG3 so far, the two have similar character concepts now, and each look good in purple. Unlike Ez, he's going to be quite well fed, no longer limited to only Strahd for blood.

Gertruda, originally 30 in CoS, now in her 40s, with more life experience having traveled with Escher for a decade. The two get along like a house on fire, and make a (un)living thieving their way across the domains. Escher typically serves as the distraction and Gertruda does the actual pickpocketing or breaking and entering.

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT LOKI'S SHOES (ACTUALLY, HIS WHOLE WARDROBE)

Production costs aside, clothes tell the audience about how characters think of themselves.

Loki's shoes in the S2 finale raised a lot eyebrows, but I find them quite fitting: they are comfortable, practical, and most importantly, they are humble. The camera brings this to our attention to communicate his evolution in character.

Loki has always dressed well, often times ostentatiously. Whether he is at war, passing as a Midgardian, or held captive as an Asgardian prisoner, Loki communicates his social class and sense of superiority through clothing. For him, clothing armors his fragile sense of self and against others' opinions of him. He intends to be perceived as deadly charming but ultimately unapproachable.

His attire in the first Thor movie is roughly equal parts green and gold, signifying his royal status. His style is dressed down for his brother's misadventures in Jotenheim, yet overall both silhouettes are lofty, princely, but not hardened or threatening.

In Avengers, Loki's look has more black and leather, with exaggerated emphasis on his shoulders meant to intimidate as he assumes the role of villain. The silhouette is very hard, heavy, and edgy. Gold detailing is prevalent as well. Combined with the goat's helm, this is Loki's most pretentious outfit, which speaks to an undercurrent of low self-esteem and a compulsive need to impress. There's no mistaking he is the main antagonist of the story.

In Thor 2, Loki's attire is similar to Avengers but the overcoat is exchanged for a less bulky version (perhaps conveying he is less guarded now that the effects of the Mind Stone are no longer influencing him). Loki's role likewise pivots from the harsh lines of a villain to the more flexible edges of a reluctant villain-turned-ally. This aligns with his character arc when he protects both Jane and Thor, seemingly sacrificing himself.

In Thor 3, Loki's silhouette is streamlined even further. The overcoat is done away with in favor of what appears to be a leather doublet, pauldrons, and vambraces. Gold accents are minimal. While stylish, Loki's attire is more practical than showy, and his helm serves the dual purpose of protection as well as weaponry. At this point in his arc, Loki has become a full antihero, joining his brother's side in rescuing as many Asgardians as possible, and eventually dying in a vain bid to protect Thor from Thanos.

The TVA does something very fun and interesting in taking away Loki's ability to dress himself. Since Loki cannot use his magic in the TVA, he is forced to wear the same clothing as his captor/advocate, who eventually becomes his best friend and peer.

Perhaps, on a subconscious level, this helped Loki to feel included. We know by his pwn admission that Loki fears being alone and desperately craves a sense of belonging. At the same time, he intentionally dresses to put people at a distance, thereby protecting himself from potential rejection at the cost of isolating himself further.

When Mobius gives him that TVA jacket for the first time, Loki seems uncharacteristically pleased. It is not an attractive jacket by any means, yet he neither scoffs at it nor refuses to wear it. Instead, Loki puts it on and is content when Mobius says it looks "smart" on him. He continues to dress like Mobius and, indeed, mimic some of his mannerisms such as placing his hands on his hips. Without clothing meant to push people away, Loki opens up, has more fun, and makes friends.

Loki's choice of attire as he assumes the mantle of God of Stories (and time) is fascinating. Setting aside the clear design inspiration from the comics, Loki's silhouette is soft, remarkably so. His colors are earthy hues of green, and the only bit of flare are the light gold trimming and crown. The look brings to mind the garb of sages and wise wizards rather than royalty or warriors. He's powerful yet approachable because there is humility in his bearing. And that humility springs from a well of healthy self-worth, self-love, and a deep love for others.

The shoes are not meant to be attractive. They are meant to help him ascend the throne, nothing more.

[smokingsoothesthesoul]

# DREW STARKEY — LIVE TALK SHOW

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ ────୨ৎ──── drew’s first time on a talk show, which just so happens to be jimmy fallon’s and he’s known for scheming. he surprises drew starkey with his celebrity crush. which just so happens to be you.

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ — pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey !

author’s note: please show some love, also this is my first time posting on here, and i don't know how good my one-shots are. enjoy!

word count : 1.8k

you were known for being one of the most famous actresses sought after. they’d been right for it, your acting was phenomenal. as much fame as you had, you never really let it get to your head, knowing where you had come from was the most important thing to you. 

not only that but you were also known for the activist and humanitarian organizations you’d created or supported alongside other celebrities, like angelina jolie, phoebe tonkin, daniel craig, etc.

so when daniel craig’s managers reached out to you it wasn’t a big surprise, apparently they had been reached out to by a talk show if they could invite you along as well. knowing daniel was more than glad to pass the invitation along, you accepted. 

you wondered why they’d want you there seeing as queer had just premiered, and that had nothing to do with you

—

drew had been nervous, he’d be on a talk show, but nonetheless he was a wreck. it took him forever to decide what he’d be wearing, ultimately deciding on a charcoal grey, and white tux with a black tie. he hoped his outfit would be fine for the show.

as he waited backstage for his introduction he paced around nervous, spinning his gold ring on his finger, an anxious tic he had. 

before he knew it, he heard jimmy fallon, “ladies and gentleman, let’s welcome the man everyone's been talking about, he’s rising to fame, the one and only drew starkey!” he announced as drew walked out and shook hands with the bodyguard on his way to the main set. 

hearing the loud cheers and roars of everyone was amazing and he couldn't help but be shook to his core, never in a hundred years would he have expected this. 

he waved to everyone as he made his way over to jimmy and shook his hand, before he proceeded to sit down in one of the couches.

“so drew we’re glad you accepted our invitation, isn’t that right?” jimmy asked the audience, before they all roared in agreement.

“i’m honored, thank you for inviting me.” drew replied confidently, knowing he was nervous inside.

“so we know you’ve been chasing gold for about four years, and now you’re in a queer relationship with daniel craig, james bond, which has premiered if i’m correct?” jimmy asked, knowing the answer but trying to build up the conversation.

“yes, out in theatres about a week ago.” drew replied. 

“how did that transition work, you know, from filming a show where you don’t really have a romantic relationship until recently to a full blown queer relationship?” jimmy asked curiously.

“honestly, a bit overwhelming and a lot of anxiety from my part. not more so because of the transition but just because i knew i had to ace this role. getting the opportunity to work alongside daniel craig and for luca guadagnino was truly the opportunity of a lifetime. whatever time it was, i knew i had to give it my all. sometimes i doubted my performance but daniel helped me and gave me advice whenever i needed it,” drew replied, while he felt himself relaxing a bit as he got comfortable enough to share personal details.

“there was even a time where,” drew began before lightly biting his lip amused at the story daniel shared with him, before continuing, “daniel told me of an experience he had with another co-star. basically when you first film scenes and most of all when they’re scenes like we were filming, the first day on set really is just practice. not reading lines, but actually practicing how certain scenes will go. in our case mature scenes were what we focused on at the beginning seeing as we’d be testing out our chemistry.”

“anywho the point is that once we were literally in the middle of a bed scene, nothing too explicit, and daniel chuckled when i fucked up a line because instead of saying ‘we can’t be doing this’ i said ‘we shan’t be doing this.’ he literally rolled out of bed and said he had to take a breather, i was confused, i mean we fuck up lines sometimes but never enough to call break,” drew explained.

“yeah normally that doesn’t happen, i would’ve been nervous,” jimmy commented.

drew laughed and nodded his head, before continuing, “i was dying of anxiety in the inside, i was like did i fuck up this badly. and i guess daniel could see it written on my face, which is when he walked over and explained how in his last role the same thing had happened with his co-star. and i couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief and literally said, ‘thank fuck’ to which he laughed at as he walked away to get a water.”

jimmy let out a chuckle at the ending of his story, and said, “oh my god i would’ve died of laughter too.” 

drew nodded as he swiped his backhand on his nose, a reflex of his, before replying “yeah i definitely would’ve too but honestly i was too nervous at the time, now i think back on it and laugh about it.”

“actually there was something i was looking forward to, with you here, let’s show this clip,” jimmy said motioning towards the tv for the audience.

before they knew it, drew was being interviewed by a reporter who asked who his celebrity crush was, ‘y/n y/ln’ he answered without falter.

as the video ended drew couldn’t help but let out a chuckle and turned to jimmy while he began, “is that still true?” 

drew knew the answer to that, and nodded, “yeah it is,” he replied confidently.

“we have a surprise for you if you look at the monitor,” jimmy said before motioning towards the tv.

if the world could swallow drew up whole, he’d let it. at that moment. because then and there on the tv, where times he’d stated his celebrity crush was y/n to interviewers and it was playing in chronological order.

as the video ended jimmy looked at him and playfully asked, “anything to comment?” 

drew couldn’t help but cover his mouth with one hand before sliding it down to reply, “genuinely that’d be mine if i could somehow reach her.”

“well who knows maybe one day you will,” jimmy commented supportively.

“unless i get the courage to actually dm her, it’ll be a pending matter,” drew replied.

“why the need for a dm? i’m right here,” you said after making your way quietly behind him signaling the audience to not spoil it.

at that moment, drew froze up, and instantly rose up from his seat but slowly turned around, not knowing if it was real.

as he slowly turned, you waved at him and slightly giggled at his nervous reaction. you waited for him to say something before you said anything else.

as you stood there waiting, drew finally caught a grip and let his charm play out even if he was a train wreck inside. 

“i’m drew starkey,” he introduced, stammering quite a bit. 

“i know,” you replied smiling.

hearing that drew’s brows rose in confusion, he didn’t expect that. he was a nobody and you were everything.

“i was invited to your premiere but i ended up in the er or else i would’ve been there, apologies,” you said, genuinely honest.

drew was lost for words, yet jimmy asked him, “drew you still there or are you too starstruck?” 

“mhm,” drew nodded, not necessarily indicating which one but they could all guess.

he couldn’t get over the fact you’d just apologized for not attending his premiere, gosh he was literally about to faint before he talked to himself in his head ‘get your shit together before you scare her’ which he proceeded to do, and extended his hand for her to shake.

“none of that, my mama taught me better than that” you replied before walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

drew couldn’t believe this was happening but reacted fast enough to not make it seem awkward for the audience, at least that's what he hoped and reciprocated the hug. wrapping his hands around your body.

as they pulled apart, you walked up to jimmy and shook his hand seeing as there was a literal desk between you both and greeted him. 

“jimmy it’s been a while,” you commented.

“glad to have you back on here,” jimmy replied genuinely.

“now that we’re dealing with a starstruck man, we actually have a few live questions, if you don’t mind answering them?” jimmy asked.

“of course, ask away,” she replied amused, wanting to know what was being asked.

jimmy read from his phone, “how does it feel to be drew starkey’s celebrity crush?”

“well honestly, and i quote, from the man himself, ‘i’m honored,’” you replied knowing drew was known for his replies of being honored.

next to you drew couldn’t help but smile amused knowing he said that quite a lot, he hadn’t been lying he really was honored. but to hear that you were honored he thought of you a certain way, well that was the most fucking honored he’d be in his life. before, now, or after.

“what do you think of drew starkey and his roles?” jimmy asked, reading off the second question being asked by the audience.

“well honestly, i’m definitely an outer banks fan. i’m glad he’s finally getting the recognition he deserved, i’ve been there since season one, people now are barely catching on,” you started.

as you replied, drew couldn’t help but feel touched at what you were saying. he really had just risen to fame this past year, with the new season of outer banks even though he’d been there since day one of the show.

“i’ll admit this new season and the past one that came out, i couldn’t help but feel a tad bit jealous that our local psycho was tied up and locked in with someone,” you admitted lightly, chuckling amused.

“for me this is a situation where i love the actor but hate the character unfortunately, because rafe deserved better, in this season four that came out. sofia betrayed him and genuinely frustrated me,” you explained.

drew couldn’t help but feel touched at how you were talking about his character, because it was something he’d poured his heart into. 

“one last question for both of you before we go,” jimmy asked before a drum roll sound came on to build anticipation.

“have we created a successful cupid match?” jimmy asked, to which the audience cheered, curious as well.

at that moment both drew and you gazed into each other's eyes, “only time will tell,” you answered truthfully, ‘but maybe we’ll get there’ you tried to communicate that through your gaze with drew. 

the cameras cut and now there was a rising to fame actor, holding out his hand for a famous actress to take. 

and that she did.

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night !!

ᝰ.ᐟ there’s nothing nagi values more than getting his rest, but thoughts of you have been keeping him wide awake at night. someone has to help him get rid of all this annoying restless energy — and it has to be you, the whole entire reason why his sleeping schedule is fucked. ( fem!reader )

pairing seishiro nagi x reader word count 2.4k content contains jealousy (nagi is being a baby abt how chigiri has your attention)/jealous sex, soft yandere!nagi, possessive sex, biting/marking kinktober masterlist

Evil. 

That’s what you are. Nagi is convinced that you are the fucking devil, someone sent from the abyss to ruin his life and destroy his ego. 

Maybe that’s a harsh judgment to make — he doesn’t mean it; not really, anyway. But there is something about you that chips away at his nonchalance. Seishiro Nagi doesn’t care about a lot of things. He can’t be bothered to. He thought that after soccer found its way into whatever void is inside of him, he’d be fulfilled. That that was it — he found his purpose, he found his driving force, and now he can enter society as a functioning human being with actual hopes and dreams. 

He never realized that he had the capacity to care about anything else, and then you arrive on the field one day, camera in one hand, a bright smile plastered on your face as you’re being introduced as the new social media manager for Manshine City. 

And suddenly, Nagi realizes that not only does he have the capacity, he’s actually emptier than he thought. 

You had been receptive to his awkward, fumbling advances. For as attractive and cool he appears on the outside, Nagi’s never bothered to actually approach any girls before. Never really felt the need to. You had taken all his accidental rude comments in stride, and you harbored the same interests as him, and he finally has you now. 

He has you, and no one else can call you theirs, and yet here he is, on a Friday night, sulking in bed instead of getting his precious rest time. 

He’s frowning, looking up at his ceiling as he thinks about what had happened earlier today. 

There’s really no need for a dress code. The coaches are all decked out in athleisure, the athletes themselves are wearing practice jerseys, and since you’re expected to be constantly on the move and chasing after these athletes, trying to get good footage and spend the whole day with ‘em, Nagi can’t necessarily fault you for wanting to be comfortable. You’re wearing a cropped version of the Define Jacket with leggings that hug you in just the right way, and Nagi swears that he isn’t a jealous person.

He thinks being envious is a crude waste of his energy, energy that he can’t bother to exert, and he’s never really experienced jealousy before. 

Maybe that’s why he’s awake at midnight despite the fact that he has an early morning practice scheduled. A practice that you’ll be attending, once again. He frowns as he tosses and turns in his bed, trying to shut his eyes, but every time they’re closed, he keeps seeing you. 

More accurately, you and Chigiri. 

Just the thought of his teammate is enough to make a scowl appear on his face. 

You’re filming content for a TikTok, and Nagi can’t help but childishly pout when he asks himself why does the TikTok need to star Chigiri and Chigiri alone? It’s not like he’s the only member on the team, you know! You spent the whole day laughing at whatever Chigiri had to say, and Nagi knows that it sounds terrible, but he doubts his teammate is that hilarious. And the way you kept following him around, barely paying any attention to the other players, including your own boyfriend, wasn’t even Nagi’s breaking point. No — what his breaking point happened to be was the way your figure-flattering outfit was just too tantalizing. 

You’re so focused on Chigiri, with your back turned to everyone else, that Nagi gets quite a view every time you’re bending down to get a different angle. Even just the memory alone is enough to get him hard. 

Fuck. Now he’s sporting a semi, he’s still seething with jealousy with the memory of you all over Chigiri still constantly playing on a loop in his mind, and worst of all: you’re not here with him. Your laptop is in your apartment, and you had kissed him goodbye after practice because you needed to edit the footage you captured today, and so you can’t spend the night with him like you usually do. 

When thirty minutes go by, and he’s still wide awake, jealous, and hard, Nagi rolls over and groans in his pillow. The minute he gets his hands on, he’s intent on making sure you can’t walk. You won’t be able to chase after Chigiri, that’s for damn sure. 

Things don’t necessarily go according to Nagi’s grand plan. Sure, you’re laying in bed with him, wearing just his shirt and a pair of panties, but you barely paid any attention to him. He’s been pretending to be occupied with his Switch, but he keeps glancing over at you. 

You’re on your phone, eyebrows furrowed as you meticulously go through the footage for a video you plan on uploading. Nagi scowls when he catches a familiar glimpse of red hair moving on the screen. You’re still editing videos of him? Seriously? 

“I thought you weren’t working today,” he mumbles, tossing aside the Switch. You don’t even look up from your phone.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, but Hyoma asked if there’s anything he can improve on for the next promo vid we’re shooting, and I want to at least find something to comment on so he knows I’m taking him seriously.” Chigiri is surprisingly a perfectionist when it comes to videos of himself. He’s been constantly asking you if you’re sure he doesn’t look too nervous or too stiff on camera, and honestly, his worrying is a bit endearing. 

Hyoma — since when were you on a first name basis with his teammate?

This is what sets him off. This is his breaking point.

Sometimes, with how sloth-like Nagi acts, it’s easy to forget that he’s a bonafide professional athlete. A genius, even. He’s quick to pounce on you, tossing your phone somewhere on his massive bed while pinning your body down with his own. With no pesky phone in the way, the only person to give your undivided attention to is him. That’s exactly how it should be. 

“Sei— Ah!” You can’t help but let out a surprised gasp as you feel Nagi nip the soft skin of your neck, teeth grazing you. Not hard enough to leave a mark (he’ll save that for later, for when you’re too drunk on his cock to protest), but sharp enough for you to feel it, to feel the pressure and the intent and the promise behind a love bite. 

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” Nagi grumbles, his head still buried in the crook of your neck. 

“I am, Seishiro.” You run a hand through the white strands of your boyfriend’s hair. It’s just as soft as it looks, and he leans into your touch, seemingly content. You didn’t realize just how neglected poor Nagi was feeling, and you wonder if it’s possible if he’s jealous. But that can’t be it — Nagi’s never been jealous a day in his life. He doesn’t even react when he catches guys flirting with you in public because he’s so confident in his relationship with you. 

You think he just wants to rest like this, but then you feel his lips dragging down the expanse of your neck. He sucks on your collarbone for a second, and returns back to your neck, sucking and biting, and all you can do is tangle your fingers into his hair, letting out little whimpers and gasps. 

“Sei, baby, you— you’re gonna leave marks.” 

He lifts his head up momentarily, staring up at you with a dark fog in his gray eyes that you normally don’t see. Underneath that haze of desire, though, lies something sharper in the gleam of his eyes. 

“That’s the point.” 

And then he does bite down on the fragile flesh of your neck. And you just lay there, allowing him to. 

Nagi wastes no time in using one hand to rub against your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before traveling further to slide your cotton panties to the side. When his thick fingers brush against your folds, he can’t hold back a smile as he finds you already wet. 

You’re embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks when Nagi holds up his hand so you can see the way your essence is glistening on his middle and ring fingers. “You’re this wet, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.” His tone is half-teasing, half-in awe. He maintains eye contact with you, and you watch him stick his fingers in his mouth, obscenely sucking on his digits, groaning as the taste of you hits his tongue. 

And when he’s done, he finally does kiss you properly. 

You think you can taste a hint of yourself on him, and it only makes you feel even hotter. You’re subconsciously thrusting your hips upwards, trying to get any sort of friction from him. 

“Mm, ah, Sei—”

“Shh.” Nagi hushes you, pressing another kiss against your lips, swallowing up your would-be pleading and begging for something, anything — his fingers, his tongue, his cock, something to ease the heat building inside of you. “Gonna make my baby feel so good.” He rubs at your slit through the slickness of your panties, teasing you as he allows the thin fabric to act as the only barrier between his ring finger and your wet heat. You’re already soaking through the cotton.

He’s been fucking pent up since last night, finding no relief, and now that he has you pinned down on his bed, wet and whining for him, he figures you won’t mind if he rushes into things. He has plenty of stamina, anyway. He can go all night if you want him to.

You mewl out his name pathetically when he slides your panties to the side once more, only instead of his fingers toying with you, it’s the tip of his cock that you feel prodding the entrance of your cunt. 

“You feel that?” He gasps out, having to take a few breaths as he adjusts to the snugness and heat of your cunt. He’s slowly pressing forward, making himself at home inside of your pussy, slowly but surely. “That’s—” Just a few more inches ‘til he’s bottoming out. “—the only dick that’s ever gonna be inside of your pussy.” He’s pressed as deeply as possible, his entire length buried inside of you. 

He’s close, so close to you, and all you can do is whimper as you adjust to his size. Nagi’s cock isn’t just long, but thick. Even with your slick-soaked hole helping ease him in, it’s still a bit of a pain to take him all the way. 

“Say it.” His voice goes a bit deeper than his normal easy-going cadence. When you look into your boyfriend’s eyes, you see it once more: the pussydrunk, lustful haze clouding his vision, and the dark, sharp look that is the driving force behind why your boyfriend impatiently started burying his cock inside of you as soon as he could. “C’mon, tell me.” 

The thrusts he’s giving you right now are only shallow; an inch or two being pulled out, only to lightly be shoved back in. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s growing impatient once more, but he refuses to fuck you boneless unless you tell him what he wants to hear. 

Fortunately, it’s the truth. It’s the truth when you whine out, “This pussy is a-all yours, Seishiro.” 

“Yeah?” He’s pulling out slowly, licking his lips as he watches how submissive he can get you to be. He’ll start with a slower pace, he decides. Treat his girl to a couple of easy orgasms before he starts showcasing his true strength. 

At least, that was his plan. Then, your phone notifies you of a text message.

He stills, eyes glancing, squinting at your screen. 

It’s a text. 

From Chigiri. 

Nagi focuses his attention back on you, but inside his mind, all he sees is the notification with his teammate’s name on it. Your eyes are wide, as if you know what he just saw, but before you can explain yourself, Nagi abruptly slams back into you.

The pace he sets is brutal. He has one hand gripping the headboard to steady himself, his other is angrily tightened around your hip, sure to leave a bruise he’ll kiss all better later. 

“Fuck.” He practically snarls, never relenting. All you can do is let out a string of moans as his cock continues to pound your pussy. There’s another chime from your phone, another notification from Chigiri. He’s asking if the video looks okay. 

You don’t have work on the brain. The only thing your mind is capable of processing are the sensations that Nagi is serving up to you on a silver platter. Even with his brutal pace and hard thrusts, he finds enough kindness inside of him to move his hand from your hip and instead grind his palm against your clit. The callouses all over his hand only add to the pleasure, and you find yourself sobbing out his name as you feel the familiar, overwhelming need to cum. 

“You gonna cum?” Nagi grunts out, as if he doesn't already know. He can tell, y’know. He can tell, because your walls are clamping down on his dick so tightly, it’s a struggle to pull out because you’re clinging to him. He can tell, because you’ve got your adorable little fucked-out expression on your face. Drool on your lips, a string of incoherent pleading and broken mewls of his name. His name. Yeah, you better be moaning his name, and his only.

“Mm, Seishiro!” You squeal out, tightening even more against his cock. Your clit is so sensitive, so receptive to his touch, paired with the nonstop thrusting of his dick, you can’t help but cream all over him. 

“Fu-ck.” The swear comes out in broken syllables as Nagi feels you cumming on his cock. He looks away from your face to look at the messy scene between your legs. Your panties are still pushed to the side, the fabric wet from your juices, and when he pulls out a bit, he sees a nice, white ring around his girth. 

You’re still whimpering, eyes closed shut as you try to regain your breath, but Nagi isn’t done just yet. He still hasn’t cum.

When he hears another text message notification, certainly from Chigiri once again, Nagi knows that you’re in for a long night. He won’t stop even after he cums. 

No — for every text message you get from his teammate, that’s another orgasm he’ll just have to wring out of you.

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Obessive behavior, Yandere tendencies, su*c*de/death.

A/N: Finally adding warning labels. We’re getting somewhere. I’ve had some of this written out, but had to add some stuff in to drive it home. Reader’s coping skills are failing, but everyone’s starting to get obsessive. Also, I’ve been fighting myself on drawing art for this. (I’m a bit out of practice.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader has basically called befriending Damian and Jason a lost cause.

Bruce still avoids reader. And, everyone else is still busy with what Reader assumes is Batwork. (Which is fine, Reader is fine. It’s not like they’re stuck in the manor pacing the halls every damn day.)

Cass and Duke’s get back from their respective missions. They weren’t gone too long, but they’re come back a bit roughed up. They debrief with Bruce and then have to go back to being civilians.

Reader is waiting to comfort them. Not to confront them. Reader’s more concerned with how Duke has a mild limp and how Cass’s knuckles have some bruising than them ditching. Plus, reader is still not completely sure that her family is Gotham’s vigilantes. They need to confirm.

But, Duke and Cass both appreciate Reader checking on them and not asking questions. Cass suspects Reader suspects something, judging by Reader’s body language. But, it’s nice for someone who’s naturally soft to be soft with you.

Duke appreciates how Reader treats him so, normally. In a way it reminds him of his childhood, when things were easier. He has a normal friend now, completely mostly free of Gotham’s crazy.

Reader is happy their back, but disappointed that they won’t be going to the school gala. In fact, a few family members make comments about how it sounds like a waste of time.

Bruce, however, is actually happy Reader is excited. And, Reader gets even more excited when one of their new friends ask to be their date. Reader’s date is so genuinely excited about going to this Gala with Reader. (Uh-oh, that’s not good.)

Some of Reader’s other friends, the more haughty and wealthy ones, tell Reader that they should’ve picked someone more… refined. Which Reader defends that their Date is perfectly sweet and good looking to boot.

But, this leads Reader to decide not to tell anyone in the family about their date. They don’t want to hear the same thing from their Gotham family. Reader does inform BFF, younger brother, and Nana of their date. For some reason, BFF was a bit disgruntled, and even Nana tried to convince them it was probably best not to go. Younger Brother was encouraging reader to have fun. (But he was whispering into the phone, and asking Reader if he could come visit them soon. Please. People are acting weird here. Is everything okay, do you need me to come home. No. No. Don’t— It’s fine. I just wanna come visit you.)

But, reader was committed to going and enjoying their date and wearing their custom made outfit.

That night, Reader was given Bruce’s permission to get ready at one of their friends’ houses. Reader was practically spoiled by their friends, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Their date meet them at the Gala escorting them inside and having a wonderful time. (I hope it last. It’s not going to though. How sad.)

At the end of the night, their Date escorted them home. To end a near perfect night Reader got a kiss. A long and pretty heated kiss. Right in front of the Entrance camera.

Tim had pulled up the camera feed when Reader got home, at Bruce’s request, just to check on Reader. (He was going to do it anyway.) The entire family was winding down from Patrol in the Batcave when the feed came on. Leaving them all to get a front row seat to Reader’s little act of rebellion.

(That’s all this was, right. Just a little act of rebellion. This won’t happen again, obviously. They won’t fucking let it.)

Bruce is livid. It doesn’t help that Jason wolf-whistles to further enrage him. (Jason is making plans to break someone’s leg though. Possibly the Dates. How fucking dare they corrupt you, that’s his job.)

Stephane is honestly impressed, didn’t think Reader had it in them. (How cute! I wonder what we could get up to together.)

Duke, sweet Duke, didn’t want to see that. His (best) friend getting tongued down on camera. He’s going to need bleach and therapy. (Why would you do that? When you can just game with him. You’re his bro. Gross.)

Cassandra is… understanding. Reader has needs. Reader wants affection. That’s fine. But, not that one. Pick someone else. (Llet her pick, actually. You can’t read people like her, you need someone better. Someone you she can trust. She needs to approve of them first.)

Dick is more disapproving, but he understands. Still, this changes how he sees Reader. Sweet innocent helpless Reader has a wild side. (But still reader is clearly helpless, obviously they don’t know what they’re doing.)

It also changes how Barbara sees Reader. Or confirms. Barbara runs under the assumption that Reader is more like Bruce than anyone realizes. (She’s not wrong, but it’s not in the way she thinks.) Bruce is a bit of natural flirt, he just hides it in his ‘Brucie’ persona. Reader apparently takes after that. (Damian sure didn’t.)

Damian, is disgusted, disappointed, and disapproving. He doesn’t doubt Father will scold you, but your date needs to be dealt with and all other suitors as well. (He’ll take care of it. He’s your brother, that’s his job.)

Tim, however, is legitimately jealous. He wanted to see this side of reader first. He got a glimpse of it before, but he wants it for himself now that he sees the full thing. (Also, right in front of the camera? Did Reader know it was there? If they did, would they be okay with Tim filming them more? Just to observe, please.)

Tim immediately starts pulling up all the information he can about Reader’s date. Without Bruce’s prompting this time. Bruce does nod in approval before marching to the entrance. Intent on putting an end to this and giving Reader a firm talking to.

It goes, horribly. Date is forced to leave and Bruce tears into Reader. (What happened to the outfit I bought you? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date? I didn’t approve of this. I don’t care that you’re back on time or that you’re old enough, you’re my child! Mine! You get my approval first.)

Reader stays composed, barely. The good news is that the brutal scolding is the only consequence Reader faces. (Bruce is more upset about Reader not seeking his approval than doing something he disapproves of. He’s your father. He should have a damn say. Would you have done this to D̴̖̞͑̊̓a̷͎͗̇d̸̜͍̩̓̎d̸̪̩̟̆̎y̶̛̼̌? Why are you doing this to him?)

The bad news, Reader’s date’s life is over. With just a few clicks from Tim and approval from Bruce, Date’s family company falling apart. Reported to the government, lawsuits filed by third-parties. Hidden debts needing to be collected NOW. Any misfiled taxes? Found and reported. And, most importantly, all calls and ways for Date to contact reader again, blocked.

Socially and financially, Date’s life is ruined in less than twenty-four hours. Worst of all, Reader doesn’t know. They’re still on cloud nine about the night, despite Bruce’s lecture. But, come Sunday morning, two days later, things fall apart.

Date is reported dead. Apparent suic1de just the night before. The financial implosion of the family was named the apparent reason.

Reader is distraught, confused, and hurt. What happened? What’s going on? This can’t be happening. I don’t want to lose anymore people I care about. I don’t want to lose someone like Momma and Daddy again.

Reader’s Gotham friends console Reader, saying it’s not their fault. That Date struggled with thought before. Don’t blame yourself. (They weren’t worth your time.)

Surprisingly enough, it’s Dick that finds reader having a borderline breakdown.

Dick clings and coddles and coos, but this time. Reader clings back. Reader clings back tight. Desperate for comfort. Which is surprising for Dick.

Most of the family tends to brush off his attempts at comfort until they hit rock bottom. For once, this isn’t someone hitting rock bottom before they need him. This is someone that’s just genuinely sad and overwhelmed and needs wants him.

Dick also ran under the assumption that Reader was allergic to affection, like Damian and Bruce. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case. It’s a nice feeling. To have someone not fight him when he tries to be comforting. Someone who is happy to take it. Of course, he doesn’t stay long. Once Reader pulls themselves together he’s got to get back to Buldhaven, but this time he leaves a bit slower. (But, him leaving somehow makes Reader feel worse.)

[hearts4hughes]

oh, professor - professor!rafe x student!fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut ; mdni ; p in v ; oral (f receiving) ; degradation ; unprotected sex ; age gap (reader is 22 & rafe is 29)

A/N: i started this writing for someone else, but changed it because it gave off so much rafe energy. all im needing rn is to get attention from professor!rafe

you sit in the dimly lit library. your leg bouncing up and down under the wooden table. it was late— too late for a tutoring lesson, especially one with your professor.

rafe, your professor, sat across from you. his presence was both distracting and irritating. you hate the way his eyes pierce through you, reading every thought you tried to conceal. he is only seven years older, but he wore his authority with a confidence that made your blood boil.

“if you actually paid attention, you would understand the material, y/n.” rafe says, his voice teasing and raspy. you shoot him a glare, your arms crossed over your body.

“i am paying attention,” you retort with a tight lipped smile. the lie leaked from the sides of your lips. how could you focus when every fiber of your being is aware of him?

he leans closer, his scent intoxicating as it fills your nostrils. your heart races in your chest. “then prove it.” he challenges, leaning back with a smirk.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. your mind is blank. rafe grins with pride, his cheekbones highlighted by the lightning in the room.

“it’s hard to think when you’re putting me on the spot.” you roll your eyes.

he stifles out a laugh in response.

at the start of your sophomore year at the university of north carolina, you were assigned to professor rafe cameron’s class. he was new to the college, and his arrival spread like a wildfire. he was tall with piercing blue eyes and a muscular body that was evident even under his formal clothes.

from the moment he walked into the classroom, he wore a confident strut in his steps. the girls practically swooned at him. as the semester went on, the outfits the students wore got smaller— each girl trying to catch his attention. however, he kept it professional, not looking lower than he needed to.

it all made you scoff. professors were supposed to be older and wiser than their students. but he was only twenty-nine! how could you truly respect him when he was barely older than you?

you couldn’t, and it didn’t go unnoticed. rafe had noticed you ever since you stumbled into class. his eyes followed you day after day, week after week, but you never shared that interest. you didn’t attempt to flirt with him or invite him to a party, you were totally indifferent. it enticed him.

however, ignoring your professor wasn’t the smartest idea. as a former straight a student, you were failing one class only— his. even though it was unusual for a professor to directly tutor a student, rafe offered to, leaving you no choice if you wanted to keep up your grades.

the tension between you and rafe was palpable. every week the fog surrounding the two became thicker.

“you’re not concentrating.” rafe spoke, breaking the silence. his voice was softer now, almost gentle.

“i’m trying.” your words were dismissive.

he sighs, closing his notebook. “maybe we should take a break.”

you nod in response.

as he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt pulled taut against his abdomen, revealing the outline of his abs. you looked away quickly, a red flush rising to your cheeks.

“why do you do that?”

“do what?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“act like you hate me,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “i know you don’t.”

you scoff. “why should it matter if i like you or not? you're my professor, not my roommate.”

“it begins to matter when your grades plummet.” he says plainly, tilting his head to the side with a smug expression.

you clench your fists by your side. frustration coursed through your veins like a wildfire. “you think you’re so smart, don’t you? you’re only a few years older than me!”

he chuckles, the sound so entrancing it made you gulp. “i’m smart enough to know that you’re scared to admit that you like me. that maybe, just maybe, you find this as intoxicating as i do.”

your heart pounded in your chest. “this is ridiculous.” you mutter under your breath. “i don’t need this, i’ll figure this class out myself.”

his smirk only grew deeper as you rushed out of the door. as the north carolina air hit your skin, it was hard to ignore the pulsating between your legs. looking back towards the library, you scoffed.

**

the next morning you find yourself back in rafe’s lecture hall. the room is filled with the scent of coffee and the rustle of college students.

you take your usual spot in the middle of the class. as you unpack your books and laptop, a figure sits besides you. you glance at the boy as he smiles, mirroring your action of setting up his academic station.

“hey,” he greeted. “you always sit in these seats, don’t you?” he smirks. “i’m gavin by the way.” you can’t help but blush as he holds out his hand.

you shake his hand, “hi, i’m y/n.” you reply, your hand still lingering in his. “and what can i say, i like routine.” he chuckles at your cheeky comment.

he’s cute with a dirty blonde mop of curls on his head. his eyes brown eyes are doe and kind. his jaw is sharp and his dimples pop when he smiles. he’s the all american perfect boy. the rest of the lecture is harder to focus on as he sits besides you. every so often, he steals glances at you and whispers jokes into your ear.

rafe notices the second the male student sits besides you. he notices how the boy’s gaze lingers on you and your cleavage, and how he’s so desperate for an ounce of attention from you. it makes his body tense and his lungs tight. it’s unbelievably hard to stay on track during the lesson which causes him to end the class fifteen minutes early.

“we’ll pick this up next class. see you all next week.” he clasps his hands together, signaling the end of period.

you stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as gavin follows you like a loyal puppy. within steps of the exit, your professor calls out to you.

“y/n, can you stay after class, please?” rafe calls out towards you. his body was stiff and jaw tense. the usual glimmer in his eyes was replaced with a greenish tinge.

girls besides you sneered as you nodded your head, waiting until the rest of the students filtered out before you walked towards him.

“yes, professor?” you said, your voice bitingly sharp.

“we didn’t get to finish our conversation from last night.” he tisked, his eyes raking up and down your body. “you left so abruptly.”

“well, we were done tutoring, so i had no other reason to stay.” the words are sharp off your tongue, only encouraging him more.

he stared deeply into your eyes. his eyes held an ocean filled with lust and secrets. it was as if there was a siren in the waters, singing and drawing you in.

you broke eye contact, allowing your gaze to fall onto the ground. he chuckled as if he had won a bet. your cheeks blushed something fierce.

“make a new friend today?” he asks as he moved his body around his desk. he was now standing directly in front of you, leaning on his desk. his dress shirt pulled against his body, emphasizing his impressively muscular arms.

he is a work of art.

you turn your head, “i’m not sure what you mean.” your voice was shaky and you weren’t sure if it was because of the tension in the atmosphere or the tension between your legs.

“really?” he challenges. “i could have sworn you were talking to that boy during my lecture.”

“it was just a conversation, rafe.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual. however, your heart rate increased under the confines of your clothing.

he took a step closer, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. “oh, i’m rafe now? what happened to professor? and it seemed like more than a conversation.” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “i don’t like seeing you flirt with other students.”

you swallow harshly. “yeah? and why’s that?” your words were an attempt to maintain steady, but you knew who was controlling the conversation.

his lips curved into a smirk, his eyes darkening with desire. “you don’t have to pretend with me, y/n.” his voice was soft. he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “i know you want this just as badly as i do.”

the fire burning in your core intensified.

“we can’t do this.” your mind was telling you no, but your heart was screaming yes. “y-you’re my professor, and i’m a student.”

“i know.” his voice was sultry. chills traveled along your skin as his finger traced your arm. “i’m no good for you, but doesn’t that make this all so much better?” he leans in, whispering into your ear.

his lips dropped from your earlobe onto the skin of your neck. he sucks along the sensitive skin, biting ever so gently.

“rafe,” you breathe out. he hums in response, his arms wrapping around your body as he pulled you close. “kiss me.”

without any hesitation, his lips landed on yours. his lips were soft, yet demanding, moving against yours in a fiery rhythm. your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between. the bulge beneath his dress pants began to grow.

you could feel the heat radiating from him, mixing with your own. the kiss depend, his tongue teasing your mouth. a moan escaped you, echoing around the empty classroom. he flipped you around, lifting you up, and sitting you on his desk. your legs separated as he stood in between them.

breaking the kiss, he gazed into your eyes, his lips still a shadow on yours. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered, his voice dripping with pure desire.

you were breathless in a haze of pleasure and desire. “what else have you wanted to do?” you look at him through your lashes. your doe, sweet eyes flicking a switch inside of him as he growls in response.

his hands traveled to the hem of your shirt before swiftly ripping it off. you sat clad in a black, lace bra, leaving little to the imagination.

“you’re ethereal.” his words painted a pink flush on your cheeks.

one hand reaches behind your back, unclasping your bra and revealing your perky tits. you gasp as his mouth attaches onto one of your nipples, sucking voraciously.

your legs wrap around his waist as you melt into his touch. every rational thought fled your mind, replaced by a primal need to feel pleasure; to feel him.

“rafe,” your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling every time his tongue swirls around your sensitive nipple. he responded with a moan, dropping to his knees in front of you.

you took in the sight as he unclasped your jeans. his hair was a tousled mess, his lips swollen, face flushed, and eyes hungry with desire.

he pulled the material down your legs, discarding it elsewhere in the room. your matching lace panties made his mouth hang agape.

he looked up at you, “are you sure about this?” you nod, your body squirming in need of touch. he tisked with a grin, “i need words, sweetheart.”

“yes.” the words couldn’t have left your lips faster.

the second he heard your consent, he dropped his head down to your lower body. he began at the edge of your thighs, licking a trail up to your inner thighs. his hands moved with purpose, swirling circles around your legs, but never in the one spot you desperately wanted.

he took his time, savoring each moment as he licked, kissed, and sucked the skin along your thighs and waist.

you wiggled as you grew impatient. he chuckled, taking a hint and suddenly pressing his tongue flat against the thin material of your black panties. your head fell back in pleasure.

he made quick work of pulling your panties to the side and licking a long stripe up your folds. your fingers find their way to his hair, where you tug and pull. that only encourages him more as he begins to lap up your core like a man starved. his nose pushes against your clit as his tongue penetrates deep inside you.

the sight of his handsome face buried between your legs made you whimper, clenching around nothing but his muscle. your juices covered the lower half of his face as he continued to please you.

“taste so much better than i imagined.” he coos, shifting his focus from your hole to your bundle of nerves. you whimpered when his tongue circled around the little nub. he smirked against you.

“i’m gonna-” you interrupted yourself with a gasp as his ring and middle finger entered you. you stretched around his digits, leaving your mouth agape. he pulls away from your legs to look at you as he curls his fingers just the right way.

it wasn’t long before he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a merciless pace. you felt the knot in your stomach tightening as he continued his assault on your pussy.

and just as you were about to come undone on his fingers, he pulled them out. your eyes shot open and you opened your mouth to argue, but his lips crashed against yours in a hungry battle between tongues. he pulled away with a tisk.

“think i was just going to reward you for being a brat?” he shook his head. “after you flirted with that ass in front of everyone? gotta teach you a lesson, honey.” he undid his buckle and dress pants before allowing them to drop to the ground.

your eyes widened as he freed his thick length from the confines of his boxers. his tip was painfully throbbing, in need of release. he ran his finger over his tip, collecting precum and spreading it across his cock. he hisses at the feeling, only causing the ache between your legs to intensify.

he scoffs as you spread your legs wider for him. “such a needy little slut, huh? need your professors dick that bad? so pathetic.” his words send a shock straight to your core, making your legs twitch. he smirks as he steps between your legs. he grabs himself and teases your entrance. when his tip knocks at your clit that’s when you turn into a cock drunk mess.

“please, rafe. i need you so bad that it hurts.” his smirk widens as you beg. while keeping eye contact, he bottoms out completely in you. you want to scream at the pleasure, but all that falls from your mouth are whiney, pathetic whimpers.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust before thrusting ruthlessly into your sopping cunt. his thick length stretches you out deliciously. his hand drops to your clit, rubbing in circular motions to ease the pain into pleasure.

his hand claps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head feel hazy. he continuously pounds into you. his tip kisses your cervix causing you to yell out in pure ecstasy. he smirks as he looks down at your stomach. with each thrust his cock bulges against your skin.

“rafe, it’s too much.” you breathe out, squirming around. his hand tightens around your throat and his other clings to your hips, holding you down as he fucks you.

“you can fucking take it.” he spat, his lips connecting with yours. it’s a clash between teeth and tongues as the knot in your stomach intensifies.

he leans back in his heels, hitting a new angle. his dick hits your g-spot continuously, bringing you to your climax. you cream around his length and it spills onto the floor below you as he doesn’t slow up on his thrusts.

you lay limp, clinging to his biceps as he spills inside of you. you’re thankful that you’re on the pill because nothing ever beat the feeling of his sperm painting your walls. breathlessly, he slows down his strokes. he pulls out, kneeling down and watching your mixed juices spill out of your worn-out core. using his fingers, he pushes his release back into you, marking you as his.

“i think you just earned some extra credit.”

[dollfacefantasy]

wait idk if you write for wade but ermm bf!logan fucking reader n letting wade watch ?!!?!?!? he wants to show wade that you’re his!!!

you got it <3 i have never written for wade before but i’m gonna try my best for you 🙏

logan howlett x fem!reader ft. wade wilson cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation

"You enjoying yourself over there?" Logan grunts from where his jaw rests against your temple.

"How could I not be? You're putting on a great show," Wade replies without missing a beat.

As usual, his answer is laced with mockery. He sits leaned back against the cushion of the sagging chair in the corner. His eyes watch you and your boyfriend with amusement, but the hint of desire gleams over his irises as well.

You're perched in Logan's lap on the bed. You've been here for a while. Your back rests flush against the warmth of his chest. His large palms cup and grope at your breasts, skilled fingers tweaking your nipples below your ribbed shirt. This started as a moment between the two of you, but opened up to include his roommate as the third party a few minutes ago.

"I would've thought you'd already be jerking off, you sick fuck," Logan taunts.

The words roll off Wade's shoulders like water, which is fine because there was no true animosity behind the term of endearment. You understood by now that is just how they communicate. 

"Well I don't know how you remember it, peanut, but you invited me to watch."

"Only cause you practically invited yourself in."

"Please with the way you left the door open, you all but asked for a ménage à trois."

The roll of your boyfriend's eyes is nearly audible to you, but you can actually feel his lips curling up into a smirk against your cheek. His fingertips give your stiffened buds a nice twirl, coaxing a soft whimper out of you. That only heightens how smug he is.

"What d'you think, baby? Is this what you wanted?" he breathes.

All he gets from you with that question is a small whine because, in truth, you didn't intend for this to happen, but you weren't unhappy that it was now. Originally, when you came over to visit your boyfriend, you didn't think his roommate was home. That assumption had been proven wrong by the sound of a low whistle only minutes later, coming from the open doorway Wade was watching through.

It's the same whistle he makes now.

"I always thought you were the type to make cute noises like that," Wade smirks.

"Did you now? You think about her a lot?" Logan says.

"Here and there."

You hear a breathy chuckle behind you, but you're too caught up with the feeling of hands on your chest. They cup and massage, caress and tease. It's bliss, but it's been going on for so long it feels closer to torture. You could feel your panties growing uncomfortably damp; though all you do is tilt your head back against his shoulder. Logan had never let you down. You just needed to be patient.

Wade wasn't content to just watch from the sidelines though, so he pipes up again.

"It's not my fault she struts around in those outfits of hers. Skirts so small they look like they were made for dolls," he quips.

"Her clothes look best when they're on the floor," your boyfriend adds.

To go along with his statement. His hands leave your breasts and tug your shirt over your head, tossing it into the other man's lap. The bright, thin fabric makes the semi-hard tent in his pants more noticeable. You bite your lip as he palms himself over the material.

Your nipples had long been visible through that tiny shirt, but now they were just in plain sight. Wade's eyes had locked onto the hardened nubs. Logan's fingers still fondled them, pulling on them until you whined.

Soon enough, you're arching your back, which unintentionally boosts your hips from his lap. He takes the advantage to pull your skirt from your legs and discard the garment on the floor.

"I think you were right, peanut. She does look much better like this," Wade says, "Maybe we should have a new dress code around the apartment."

"In your dreams. Enjoy this while you can," Logan shoots back.

Your breaths grow labored. You feel the bulge pressed against your ass growing as your hips swivel and rub your plush flesh on the familiar cock.

"She's got pretty tits, doesn't she?"

For once, Wade doesn't have a quick comeback. Instead, he just nods. 

"Spread your legs, bub. Let him see how cute that little pussy is too," Logan rumbles in your ear.

Your thighs spread on instinct as if each syllable was pulling on some puppet strings. Now on display are the simple panties you were wearing and the wet patch that had formed between your thighs. You feel it only growing worse as Wade's eyes snap down to it and stay there.

On the other side of you, one of Logan's arms constricts around your chest while the other dips and slots a hand between your thighs. He cups the heat of your center before his fingers apply ample pressure.

You mewl, body rolling with the new waves of pleasure coursing through your limbs. Logan chuckles at your responsiveness. He nips at your earlobe before more words come out against your skin.

"You showing off? You're moving a lot."

"I-I'm not. Just feels good," you whimper in defense of yourself.

At the reminder of the other man, you cast your gaze over to him. The heel of his palm is still smoothing over his erection, giving himself dull stimulation similar to the kind Logan's providing you with.

"You know what'd make it feel even better?" he asks, the question obviously leading to the answer 'me.'

Before you can muster any kind of response, Logan's hands meet in the middle of your body around the curves of your waist. He picks you up and spins you around, pinning you on your back against the mattress. His larger frame cages you in on the foamy surface.

He tilts his head up to grin at Wade. "Your invitation was to watch. Don't remember asking for your commentary."

"You didn't have to. It's a package deal," he says back.

Logan shakes his head before latching his mouth onto your neck. His teeth scrape at your tender flesh while his tongue simultaneously flicks at your pulse. He teases just the right amount to keep your movements chasing him for more.

Your body squirms beneath the heat of him. He keeps you in place though. His hands sweep down from your shoulders. They stop on your tits to give some more attention to the soft mounds. Then, they continue their descent and coast over your hips, cupping the swell of your ass. It feels like they're so many places at once that for a brief second you wonder if Wade had actually joined in.

You angle your head back and find the other man still parked in his seat, proving your theory wrong. He smiles at you. You see it upside down because of your position. It's the last thing your vision catches before your eyes flutter closed.

Logan pushes you down hard on the mattress before then pulling you up a bit to tear your panties off. Once they're gone, he pulls back onto his knees so he can shove his pants down to mid thigh and get his cock out.

The huge appendage stands proudly before both you and Wade. He wraps his fingers around it and pumps, giving no facial reaction despite the fact that his slit begins oozing precum. You feel like you're gonna start drooling just from watching the rhythmic, repetitive motion that he uses to pleasure himself.

"You like what you see?" he teases.

You start to nod, but Wade chimes in. "Fuck off. Do you even have to ask?"

That brings a giggle from your lips. You look at him over your shoulder, smile on your lips inherently flirty from how turned on you are right now.

"It's nice, isn't it?" you ask.

He does respond, but Logan's voice overpowers him in your ears. "Ah ah. All your attention on me."

He tugs you closer by your thighs, bringing you flush against him. You can feel the way his cock pulses where it rests on top of your cunt. It lies there like a form of foreshadowing. A visual of how he'll be fitting inside you a few moments from now.

"If you're talking to someone else, that means I'm not doing my job right."

With that, his hips slip backward and then slide forward again, pushing his shaft inside the tight, warm, embrace of your cunt. You keen as that familiar feeling of fullness washes over you. Your limbs start to squirm, but he pins your biceps down with his forearms and your legs are trapped from the position he has you in. There's no other option besides lying there and taking it.

He lets out a deep sigh too. You were already spasming around him. Your walls convulse rapidly as they work to accommodate the thick intrusion.

"Still feeling good?" he grunts.

He feels himself all the way bottomed out and rests there for a brief moment. Just as you're about to answer, he drags out and then snaps back in. Your response shatters into a whiny moan. The rest of your words come out garbled as a result, so you just nod instead.

"Yeah? You think you need anything else to make it better?" he asks.

That one gets a rapid head shake in response.

Chuckling at the stark difference, he looks up at Wade in the corner as he starts to thrust at a more measured pace. His intention had been to taunt the merc, but he sees him even more reclined than before, hand stroking his cock up and down. It increases the heat in Logan's belly and gets him slamming into you harder.

"Fuckkkkk," you whine. One of Logan's hands comes up to rest on your throat for better leverage to thrash you against the mattress with.

"You're so tight for me, baby," he groans, "You like this? You like being watched?"

"Mhm, yeah," you answer, words sputtering from your lips like a broken sprinkler.

A sound somewhere between a hum and growl comes from Logan. He leans down impossibly closer, his hips not stopping once.

"You like me showing you off? Showing someone else how well you take me?"

In response, he gets another lazy, blissed-out nod from you.

Despite your head feeling all foggy, your grip on his shoulders stays firm. Your nails dig into the skin, a small way to keep you grounded when you feel like everything around you is just fading into the background.

"Tell me who's making you feel this good," you hear him grunt in your ear.

"You."

The word comes out breathy and moaned. Too quiet for his liking.

"Who? Say my name."

"You, Logan," you whine before a chorus of whimpers bursts from you.

His cock was angled to ram into your favorite spot. It pistons against it over and over. Your legs shake violently, and all you can even think to do is keep calling out his name.

"You hear that?" he asks Wade.

"I think the version of you who died could hear it," the other man smirks.

Your boyfriend huffs out a laugh against your shoulder and keeps fucking into you. The bed creaks almost loud enough to challenge the noise you're making.

Wade keeps dragging his fist over his length. His pace resembles the one Logan's using for you. He squeezes and swipes his thumb over his tip. ghosts his fingers over the sensitive underside. He could tell you were getting close, and he intended to finish along with the two of you.

"Almost there for me, bub?" Logan asks.

"Yeah, yeah. Just need you. Don't stop," you whimper.

"Not going to," he breathes, "Not until there's no question you're mine."

You knew what that meant. There would be no question when he came and had his cum leaking out of your pussy. That's the goal he's working toward, the finish line he's hurtling to.

His hips clap against your center, filling you completely. You rock against the blankets with his momentum. The feeling of euphoria plumes inside you, luring you closer to your release.

"C'mon, no need to be shy. Cum for me. Show him how good I make you feel," he purrs.

Those words are the final strike you need to go crashing over the edge. You choke out a moan, and your body goes lax beneath him. You melt into a twitching puddle of shudders and whines, babbling about how perfect he feels inside you.

Your performance elicits a groan from Wade in the corner. You can't see, but you have strong suspicion it was the finale for him too. You imagine the way his hips buck into his hand and his head tilts back in pleasure. A pristine stream of pearlescent white bursting from him. It drives another wave of ecstasy over you.

Logan cums last. His hands fly to dig into the spaces beside your head; he avoids gripping your arms while he cums to prevent shattering your bones. The light duvet scrunches up with his fists. His eyes close too. A sharp puff of air leaves his mouth before his hips hammer into you deep and spill his load.

His balls smack against your ass, a final resounding sound signifying the end of his thrusts. He looks like a god when he cums, bulky, glistening chest on full display. His v-line and pubes slick with your arousal. Face set into an expression of pure satisfaction.

He fucks you full just like you need. Your eyes droop with the contentment it brings over you.

You're not sure how long you're in that dreamy daze for. You barely register Logan pulling out or climbing off of you. You only regain some sense of your surroundings when you hear mocking applause from behind you.

"Bravo you two. Color me impressed," he says before whistling, "If you guys put that on the internet, you could make something with that. Bring the whole celebrity sex tape thing back."

You hang your head back to look at Wade. "Yeah, but we're not really celebrities," you smile.

"And we're not doing a sex tape," Logan says from the other side of you.

Your head whips around to face him, and you laugh at the serious expression on his face. The sweet sound of your laughter lightens it up a bit. He reaches out to give your cheek a gentle stroke.

"It's just a suggestion. And with a name like the X-men, there's no limit on possible porn titles," Wade concludes, receiving more laughter from you and a groan from Logan.

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!jungkook, sub!jungkook, softdom!reader, oral (m receiving), etc.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, extra

wc: 1632

a/n: i havent read the previous three parts in months so if theres any discrepancies pls forgive</3

masterlist

in the time you'd known jungkook, you'd never actually been to his apartment.

he was at university on a scholarship, meaning that he didn't have to worry about paying for schooling or dorming. any money he earned from tutoring or any allowance received by his parents was all his to keep, meaning that his current residence was nicer than that of the average student.

despite being aware of all of this, you were still quite shocked the first time he brought you around.

unlike what you'd expected, jungkook's spacious studio apartment was not filled with nerdy figurines and stacks of comic books (god, that would've been adorable). instead, it replicated the appearance of the average bachelor pad. the furniture appeared of good quality, the bed was comfy, the decor clean, and even the cleanliness gave you a vibe of maturity and put-togetherness that you hadn't quite gotten from jungkook yet. at least not to this extent.

the most shocking thing, though? that was jungkook himself; his look and demeanor while lounging around his apartment.

he'd been growing his hair recently, something which you adored, though tonight had been the first time you'd ever seen him with it without the proper care you assumed went to it every morning. the messy curls laid at the sides, fluffy after a whole day of being worn and played with by the wind. accompanied by that, he donned some loose sweats and a simple tank top, two garments you'd never once seen on the boy. he tended to go for less casual outfits while in public, usually wearing buttoned up flannels or graphic tees.

unfortunately for you, his slight change in look had an instant effect on you. had anyone else seen him like this, you were sure they'd pursue him immediately. as of late, more and more girls were taking notice of him. since meeting you, his confidence had gone up and his way of presenting himself had evolved quite a bit. just a few more months and you were sure he'd become a heartthrob by all definition of the word.

"god, you're gorgeous," you practically whimpered as soon as he let you in, having taken a few moments to simply stare at him before pecking his lips as a greeting.

"oh, i- thanks. you're prettier," he mumbled back as he welcomed you in, "sorry it's a little messy."

he must've been kidding. the place was insanely tidy! you expected as much from jungkook, but it was still surprising to find a college-aged boy with cleanliness.

"it's perfect, baby. show me to your room?", you went straight into business.

with a sheepish smile, he led you to his room.

you had previously agreed that you'd be spending the night tonight. it was your first sleepover at his place, which had you both giddy at the thought. there was no special reason for it other than your sudden insistence for it about a week ago, claiming you wanted to see where a one jeon jungkook spent his nights away from you.

he was shy about it at first, as per usual, but agreed after a few smiles and kisses from you.

and so now you had the privilege of laying on his bed on a saturday night, clad in a pair of his boxers and an oversized shirt of his as you waited for him to do his skincare.

you had insisted on not packing an overnight bag, knowing jungkook would have anything you needed at his place — he was very well put together, after all.

smiling at him as soon as he entered the room, you extended your arms to motion him over to the bed, causing him to chuckle shyly as he stepped towards you. once he was at a close enough distance, you grabbed at his arms, pulling him to the bed and somehow managing to get him to lay down, climbing on him immediately after.

"hey, there, gorgeous," you flirted, hands on his shoulders and full weight sitting on his crotch area. it wouldn't take long until you found a tent under you.

"you don't have to try and fluster me every time you see me anymore, you know ..." he mumbled as he lost any ounce of control under you.

"where's the fun in that?", you smirked as your hands traced their way under his shirt, pulling it off him without a second thought, "god, how'd you get even more handsome?", you groaned as you took him in, so pretty below you with his long hair and his breathless state.

"i- i just- oh-,"

you gave him no chance to speak, choosing instead to quickly throw off your his own shirt and lower your lips down to his. the kiss was immediately heated. you could never really help yourself around jungkook, but fortunately, he liked that about you.

he'd gotten a bit less shy with time. his hands were more willing to explore your body nowadays, currently finding themselves on your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

you adored how much more comfortable he'd gotten around you, both sexually and not so. at times, he'd even initiate sex with you. these instances were a bit awkward for him, but you always liked to encourage him, letting him know through your enthusiasm how much you enjoyed it when he went after what he wanted.

however, you still had to keep him on his toes somehow.

like now.

"no touching, baby," you murmured between kisses, grabbing onto his hands and pinning them above his head as you leaned down onto him.

with a simple gulp, he nodded, lips shyly smooching so you'd kiss him again.

continuing your kiss, your hands went down to his torso, sneaking under the fabric and beginning to play with the skin there. your fingers traced the ridges of his abs, adoring how he shuddered against you but made no complaint. the silent effect of your actions only lasted up until your hands made their way north, eventually finding his nipples and tracing them teasingly.

the poor boy under you whimpered against your lips. his arms made some movement, but did not stray away from where you'd left them above his head, still pressed together as he attempted to follow your directions and not touch you.

your next move was to rid him of his clothes altogether, requiring to get off him for a few moments but immediately taking your rightful place straddling him on his bed once more.

"prettiest thing i've ever seen," you hummed as you looked down at him, leaning down to press kisses on every inch available.

"please ..." he mumbled when your lips first made contact with his chest, knowing their next destination.

ignoring him, you continued as before, letting your lips find their way to his nipple and twirling your tongue around it in a teasing manner. your barely there touch had him whining at the contact, wanting more from you.

you took pity on him, deciding to go all the way and suckling on the bud just how you knew he liked. except the poor boy could barely handle the pleasurable pain that came from it. he writhed under you as you alternated between pecs, filling his chest with love bites that'd flourish by the next morning.

the kisses made their way down his body, landing at his happy trail by the time you lowered yourself to your knees at the end of the bed. with a bite to your lip, you enjoyed the view of what was to be in your mouth in mere moments.

jungkook sat up, wanting to see what threat of pleasure approached him next. he groaned upon seeing how hungry you looked eyeing his hardness, but he remained a good boy by keeping his hands to his sides rather than reaching for you.

"a-ah, fuck," he groaned as soon as your lips made contact with his member, lightly closing in on his tip and suckling at it in a way that had his breath catching and eyes rolling back.

keeping your eyes on the trembling boy, you caught glimpse of his hands fisting harshly at the sheets, holding himself back from wrapping around your hair as he usually did. the thought made you smile around him. he was so so sweet and well mannered.

deciding to be just as nice, you engulfed as much of him as you could, practically deepthroating him. his reaction was immediate, whining and writhing above you while you had your fun with his cock.

"p-please, oh fuck, please," he pleaded for nothing in particular.

you weren't one to ever deny him of anything. every one of your actions was meant to aid him in his pleasure.

humming against him, you slobbered all over him, not minding the mess of your saliva and his cum slowly dripping down onto your chin as long as the pretty boy above you was losing himself because of you.

as per usual, his orgasm hit him pretty quick. as shy as he was, he was never too timid to let himself cum when he hit his limit. jungkook was one to appreciate the pretty girl giving him pleasure by demonstrating his immense appreciation.

it always got to you how loud he became while cumming, which was currently causing a mess in your panties. you decided to enjoy every drop of his orgasm before paying mind to that, though.

finally done torturing him by licking off any remnants off his dick, you climbed up his body and sat yourself on his lap with a smile, leaning in for a teasing tongue-filled kiss before humming in satisfaction against his breathless lips.

"did i tell you i love how you're growing out your hair?"

he gulped.

"you've, uh, you've mentioned."

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (02)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.1k

Aliyah's Notes: rafe triple appearances 👏 i actually rlly like this yk like the pacing and the dynamics are great imo. i hope u all will like it too. reader seems like such a jobless ho in this chap but she's booked and busy yall i promise

As the early morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of your apartment, you stood in front of your full-length mirror, taking a deep breath as she surveyed her reflection. Today was the day—the day you would finally meet Rafe Cameron and discuss the terms of your marriage arrangement. The thought made your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Despite your bubbling personality, the pressure of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders. You had spent the past few days steeling yourself for this moment, and now that it was finally here, the reality of it sent your heart racing.

You glanced at your closet, a vibrant array of outfits hanging neatly. You had planned to wear something that screamed “fabulous”, but time was slipping away from you. You settled on a leopard-print strapless top, pairing it with a denim mini skirt. You slipped on your favorite black heels, which added just the right amount of height and made your legs longer. You grabbed your black Prada bag, a reminder of the success you had fought so hard to achieve.

Despite your nerves, you felt a surge of excitement. This meeting was a step forward resolving your visa issues, and you were determined to make the best of it. You wanted to present yourself as confident, someone who could hold your own—especially when facing someone like Rafe Cameron.

You slipped into the back seat of your private car, offering a quick nod to your driver, Gregory. As the engine purred to life, you felt your heart pounding in your ears, each beat amplifying the weight of anticipation.

When you arrived at the law office, your gaze immediately landed on Nicolas, your lawyer. He stood up from his chair and made his way over, exchanging small talk that felt oddly comforting amid the tension. Together, you entered the meeting room, where Rafe and his lawyer were already waiting for you.

Even seated, his presence dominated the space. His broad shoulders, casual posture, and confident smirk that made him look every bit the arrogant athlete you had read about. His lawyer, Sabrina Rashid, sat beside him, a sharply dressed woman who radiated professionalism. Rafe, on the other hand, looked annoyingly relaxed in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. 

Well, this made you look overdressed… Embarrassing, but you kept your head held high.

Nicolas gestured toward the table. “Shall we?”

You slid into the chair opposite Rafe, offering a small nod to his lawyer before turning your attention to him. His blue eyes flickered over you, lingering longer than necessary. You could practically feel his ego inflate with every second.

“You’re late,” he drawled, breaking the silence. His voice was as cocky as his expression.

You arched a brow, setting your Prada bag on the table with a soft thud. “Hello to you too—and you’re lucky I showed up at all, considering your reputation.”

He smiled. “Feisty. I like that.”

And so, you cringed at his words. You rolled your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

Nico cleared his throat, clearly eager to steer the conversation to business. “Yes, well, the purpose of today’s meeting is to discuss the logistics of the marriage arrangement—specifically, where you’ll be living, financial obligations, and how this will be handled publicly.”

“Publicly?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “I thought this was supposed to be discreet.”

Rafe shrugged. “I don’t do discreet, sweetheart.”

You shot him a glare. “I am not your sweetheart.”

“Not yet, but wait ‘till we’re married.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his audacity, but recovered. “This isn’t going to be like that. We’re not doing some fake, lovey-dovey routine for the press.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about looking like a normal couple, someone the media can’t tear apart every other week. It’s all about appearances, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me sweetheart.”

“Whatever you say,” he grinned. “Plus, you gotta admit, you and I? We’d be a headline every day, sweetheart.”

“Is he serio—”

Nico stepped in before you could respond. “Alright, enough. Let’s get back on track.” He glanced at Rafe’s lawyer, who nodded and opened a folder.

“First item on the agenda: where will you two be living?” Sabrina asked, her tone professional and no-nonsense. “Given that this marriage is primary for legal purposes, we need to establish residency. For it to be legitimate, you will need to live together.”

You shot a look at Rafe, who was already smirking like he’d won some kind of silent argument. “I’m not moving in with him,” you said flatly.

“You think I’m thrilled about having a roommate? Especially one who probably spends hours in front of the mirror.”

You crossed your arms. “I do not.”

Lies.

“Oh, please. You’re a model. You probably have a different skincare for every day of the week.”

“And it’s supposed to be a bad thing because…?” You frowned. “You should take exemple. You look like you wash your face with body soap.”

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s focus, kids.”

Rafe’s lawyer continued, ignoring the banter. “You’ll need to appear as though you’re cohabiting. If not, immigration authorities will become suspicious, and the arrangement could fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes at Rafe. “Where do you live, anyway?”

He learned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve got a place in SoHo. Penthouse. Nice view, great amenities. It’s got plenty of space for you to do… whatever it is models do.”

“Funny, I have my place in the Upper East Side. And I am not giving it up.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Upper East Side, huh? Posh.”

“I earned it.”

“Well, we’ll need to figure something out,” Sabrina interjected smoothly. “But you need to live together. In one place.”

Rafe looked amused. “You can have the closet space. I’m a sweet guy like that.”

“How generous,” you muttered, turning back to the lawyers. “Fine. We can do the whole ‘living in one place together’ thing. But I need time off, to stay at my place once in a while.”

Rafe winked. “Wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

You ignored him. “What about finances? How is this going to work?”

Nico pulled out his own folder. “We’ve drafted a preliminary agreement outlining financial contributions from both parties. It’s important that this marriage appears legitimate, so we suggest pooling certain expenses—utilities, rent or mortgage payments, and shared household costs. This can be done through a joint account, which will be monitored to ensure the marriage looks genuine.”

You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, and you shot him a look. “A joint account? I hope you’re not expecting me to pay for your post-game drinks?”

He chuckled. “Relax. I’ve got more money than you can spend in a lifetime. The joint account is just for show. But if you want to chip in for groceries, I won’t stop you.”

“Oh, how noble of you,” you replied dryly.

Nico glanced between you and Rafe, clearly trying to keep the conversation on track. “This account will cover all necessary shared expenses—bills, groceries, and any incidentals that may arise from your living arrangements. It’ll help maintain the appearance of a genuine marriage.”

Sabrina nodded in agreement. “Exactly. As for your individual assets, those will remain separate. No need to worry about your personal finances getting tangled up.”

You relaxed a little at that. “Good.”

“And what about public appearances?” Rafe asked, sounding surprisingly serious. “How often do we need to do the whole ‘happy couple’ thing?”

Nico exchanged a look with Rafe’s lawyer. “You’ll need to be seen together frequently enough to make it believable, but not so much that it seems forced. A few key events—charity galas, public outings—will suffice. It’s important that you strike a balance.”

Rafe shrugged. “I’ve got games, events, plenty of opportunities to be seen.”

You sighed. “I have shoots, fashion shows, and meetings. We’re both busy.”

“Sounds like we’ll have to schedule our love life,” he quipped, flashing you a grin that made you want to throttle at him.

You gave him a sweet smile. “Good thing it’s not real.”

He laughed, and for a second, the tension in the room eased.

Nico shuffled his papers. “There’s one more thing to discuss—media coverage. Given that Mr. Cameron is already in the spotlight, it’s important to control the narrative.”

Sabrina continued; “We’ll need to issue a carefully crafted statement once the marriage is official. Something that explains how you met, why you’re together, and addresses any potential rumors before they can spiral out of control.”

“A public statement?” You cringed at the thought.

“It’s necessary,” Nico said. “If this looks like a publicity stunt, it could raise red flags with immigration.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking far too relaxed for the situation. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it believable. I’m great with the media.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what worries me,” you muttered.

He smirked. “Come on, sweetie. We’ll be the hottest couple in New York. Think of the headlines.”

“I’d rather not,” you moved your hands dismissively.

The lawyer continued discussing the finer details of the arrangement—contract clauses, confidentiality agreements, and timelines. You zoned out for a moment, your eyes drifting back to Rafe. Despite his infuriating attitude, there was something about him. Something that made you feel like this might not be the worst decision after all.

“I hope you’re prepared for the spotlight,” he said suddenly, snapping you back to reality. “The media’s gonna eat this up.”

You arched a brow. “Please. I’ve been in the spotlight longer than you have, and with far less drama.”

He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

You leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on, the space between you suddenly charged. “I’m not one of your little fangirls, Rafe. You might charm the media, but you’re not charming me.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, replaced by something darker, more intense. His gaze dipped, lingering on your exposed cleavage, heat flaring in his eyes. You felt a spark, your breath catching as your own eyes betrayed you, flickering to his lips—pink, curved, and way too tempting for your liking. The air between you thickened, crackling with an unspoken challenge, the playful banter giving way to something far more dangerous.

Rafe’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and for a moment, you forgot where you were, the weight of his stare pulling you in. The thought of what it would feel like to wipe that cocky grin off his face—or maybe even taste it—flickering through your mind.

But then Nico cleared his throat, shattering the moment like glass, and you quickly sat back, your heart racing as you wrenched your gaze away from Rafe’s.

“So, we have a deal?” Rafe asked, cutting through the tension.

You glanced at Nico, who gave you a subtle nod of reassurance. With a deep breath, you turned to Rafe and extended your hand. “Yes, we do.”

His hand clasped yours, warm and firm. “Looking forward to being your husband, sweetheart.”

“Looking forward to not being your wife,” you rolled your eyes, pulling your hand back. “This is purely business. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Whatever you say, wife.”

The next few days passed in a blur of contracts, legal jargon, and meetings with Nico, Sabrina, and Rafe. You had signed your life away—well, not really your life, but it certainly felt like it. 

You were lounging in your Upper East Side apartment, scrolling through Instagram when your phone buzzed.

Rafe Cameron.

Just seeing his name made your stomach tighten with a mix of irritation and something else you couldn’t quite place. Hesitantly, you opened the message.

Rafe: “When do you plan on moving in?”

You stared at the screen for a second before typing.

You: “I’m not even packed yet… what the hell.”

Rafe: “What you waiting for? You’re not chickening out, are you, sweetheart?”

There it was again—sweetheart. That nickname got on your nerves, but you were determined not to let him get under your skin (although he already did).

You: “Stop calling me that, and also I have a job and a life. I can’t just drop everything to move into your stinky place.”

Rafe: “I’m offering help.”

You snorted at your phone. Right, because Rafe Cameron would actually help you pack your boxes.

You: “What are you gonna do? Carry my shoes for me?”

Rafe: “If it gets you here faster, then sure. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. Was he serious? You couldn’t picture Rafe Cameron, basketball star and all-around cocky jerk, standing in your apartment, packing boxes and loading them into a truck. The mental image alone was laughable.

You: “Wait! No!”

Rafe: “Why no? You need a few more days to decide on what to pick?”

You: “Jerk.”

Rafe: ":)"

You: “And I can’t move in yet. We need to make a public appearance and get married before I start packing and do all the move-in things.”

There was a pause before his response came through.

Rafe: “Fair.”

You: “Excited to live with me, am I right?”

Rafe: “Projecting much?”

You: “You wish.”

Rafe: “Ditto, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. You quickly clicked on the rolling eyes emoji as a response and threw your phone onto the couch, not wanting to keep talking to him.

The next morning, you blinked your eyes open, greeted by the familiar warmth of your apartment, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about everything. The visage, the arrangement, the pressure, the stress, immigration, Rafe Cameron—all of it felt distant, like a strange dream.

But then reality settled back in.

You groaned softly, burying your face into your pillow for a second longer before sighing and throwing off the covers. Today was yet another meeting with the lawyers, and you already were over it.

You knew marriage was a lot of papers and documents, but you truly didn’t think it was this much.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you padded across the plush carpet to your closet, glancing at the outfits hanging neatly in a row. Usually, your first thought would be what designer outfit to wear today but you couldn’t muster the energy to care this morning. Today wasn’t about looking fabulous; it was about getting down to business, and you didn’t care how you looked because you’d be stuck in a room for hours with two lawyers and your future husband.

Future husband… God, how weird was it to say that about a man you didn’t even know.

Instead of focusing on it, you reached for a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a simple white tank top. You pulled a thick, cozy grey cardigan over your shoulders, its warmth a small comfort against the stress building in your mind. 

As you made your way to the kitchen, your phone buzzed on the countertop, and for a moment, you thought it might be Rafe. But no, it was just a reminder from Nico about the meeting. You sighed, grabbed a cup of coffee, slipped into the backseat of your car and headed to the law office.

The law office was as sleek and imposing as ever—polished wood, glass walls, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You stepped into the conference room, finding Nicolas and Sabrina already seated at the table, a stack of papers in front of them. They looked up and offered polite smiles as you entered.

“Morning,” you said, taking a seat and smoothing the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Morning, Y/N,” Nico replied, his tone friendly but businesslike. “How’re you feeling?”

You hesitated, offering a half-hearted smile. “A bit nervous and tired, I guess. But ready to get things moving.”

Nico nodded, glancing at the empty seat beside you before opening his mouth to speak, but Sabrina beat him to it.

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N, just to let you know—Rafe won’t be joining us today.”

Your heart sank, but you tried not to show it. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Last-minute practice session,” she explained, her tone casual. “It was unavoidable, apparently. He couldn’t get out of it.”

You nodded slowly, processing the information. It wasn’t that you were angry—just… bothered. This was an important meeting, after all. Even though this marriage was fake, it still involved a lot of big decisions. Decisions you didn’t feel comfortable making without him.

“Okay,” you said after a moment. “I guess we’ll have to catch him up later, then.”

Sabrina gave you a sympathetic look. “I’ll make sure he’s informed about everything. I know it’s frustrating, but Rafe’s schedule can be pretty unpredictable.”

“I get it,” you replied with a shrug, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s just... this is important, you know? It would’ve been nice to have him here for this.”

“I understand,” Sabrina said gently. “And I’ll make sure he’s fully briefed on everything. He’s committed to this, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit unsettled but trying to brush it off. He was used to a chaotic schedule, and you couldn’t expect him to drop everything for every meeting. But still... you couldn’t shake the slight discomfort gnawing at you.

“Okay,” you said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Nico flipped through the stack of papers in front of him. “We’ve got a lot to cover. First off, the wedding itself. We need to finalize a date, and given your visa situation, we’re looking at a timeline of about three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” you exclaimed, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. It was sooner than you’d expected, but you understood the urgency. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Nico said, waving his hands. “We need to move quickly. The sooner the marriage is official, the sooner we can start the immigration process. And in the meantime, you and Rafe will need to be seen together publicly—on dates, outings, and even social media.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Public appearances... right. How often are we talking?”

“Enough to make it believable,” Sabrina took over. “We don’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s important that you’re seen together frequently. A few key public outings, some posts on social media—it’ll help establish the narrative that you’re a real couple.”

You nodded. “And Rafe’s on board with all of this?”

“He is,” Sabrina reassured you. “We’ve discussed it, and he knows what’s required.”

“Okay,” you said, feeling a bit more reassured but still uneasy. The idea of staging your life for the public was daunting. It wasn’t just about attending a few events or posting pictures—it was about selling the image of a relationship that didn’t exist. And with Rafe not even here for the planning, you couldn’t help but feel a little disconnected from it all.

You smiled faintly. “It just feels... strange, doing all of this without Rafe. I mean, I know it’s a fake marriage, but it would still be nice to have him involved, you know?”

“I understand,” Sabrina said. “It’s not ideal, but Rafe’s committed to this. His schedule is unpredictable right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s not invested in making this work.”

You nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. Maybe Rafe’s absence wasn���t a sign of disinterest—maybe it was just bad timing.

Nico continued, flipping through the papers. “Let’s move on to the wedding itself. Have you given any thought to what kind of ceremony you want?”

“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it at all.”

“Alright,” Nico said, nodding.

“A small ceremony,” you echoed, thinking it over. “It… It could be nice, no? That could work—but shouldn’t Rafe have a say in this?”

“He will,” Nico assured you. “Mrs. Rashid will loop him in on everything. But for now, we need to focus on logistics. The venue, the guest list, the timeline—it’s all about making sure everything looks legitimate to immigration.”

“Okay. Let’s go with the small ceremony, then. But I’d still like Rafe’s input before we make any final decisions,” you said softly, your cheeks warming slightly.

“Of course,” both lawyers said with a smile.

The conversation shifted to the finer details—the venue, the guest list, the timing of public appearances. It felt more like planning an elaborate PR campaign than a wedding, but you tried to stay focused. Every decision was one step closer to securing your future, even if it didn’t feel real.

The meeting felt like a marathon. You exhaled a long, tired sigh, your head spinning with wedding details and timelines. You couldn’t help but glance at your phone again, half-expecting a message from Rafe. But there was nothing. He was at practice, wrapped up in whatever game plan his team was working on.

You adjusted the strap of your tote bag and pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself as you headed for the door. But as you opened it, you stopped short, nearly walking straight into someone standing just outside.

“Whoa—” A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts, and you blinked up to see Rafe Cameron standing there, leaning against the doorframe, as if he had been waiting for you.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, surprise laced in your voice. You hadn’t expected him to be here, especially after Sabrina said he wouldn’t make it.

He straightened up quickly, looking just as startled as you. “Y/N… uh, hey. I—uh, I’m sorry I missed the meeting,” he stammered, his usual confident demeanor slipping for a moment. “I couldn’t miss practice…”

You stood there, momentarily frozen. It wasn’t like him to stutter—and it threw you off. “Oh… right. Yeah, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. Sabrina said you had practice,” you said, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

He shifted his weight, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Yeah, I, uh… tried to make it, but, you know… basketball.”

You nodded slowly, still surprised that he had actually shown up. “Well, the meeting’s over. Sabrina said she’ll catch you up on what we discussed.”

“Right, yeah, I’ll talk to her,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, so... goodbye?”

“Goodbye,” he said, looking down at the floor for a second before glancing back at you. There was a brief, awkward silence that stretched between the two of you. Neither of you moved, though you weren’t sure why.

Finally, Rafe cleared his throat, and his gaze flickered over your outfit. A slow smirk crept onto his face, his familiar cockiness returning. “So... what’s with the sweatpants and cardigan? Didn’t know you had it in you to dress so casually.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the teasing tone. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Just saying... it’s not exactly the runway look I was expecting from a supermodel.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat before you could stop it. “You’re one to talk, Mr. I-show-up-in-a-T-shirt-to-a-business-meeting,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smile.

Rafe’s eyes lit up slightly, surprised by your reaction. It was the first time you had actually laughed at something he said, and for a moment, he just stared at you, taking in the sound. Cute, he thought to himself, the word slipping into his mind unbidden.

“At least my T-shirt was designer. This,” he flicked his gaze over your cardigan, “looks like something you stole from your grandma’s closet.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “I happen to like this cardigan, thank you very much. It’s cozy.”

He grinned. “Cozy, is it? Guess you’re preparing for the life of domestic bliss we’re about to have. How cute.”

You shook your head, fighting another smile. “Funny—like you even know the meaning of domestic bliss.”

He tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “Who says I don’t? I could be all about the cozy life. You don’t know me.”

You arched a brow. “Really? You? In sweatpants, lounging on a couch, binge-watching Netflix?”

“I can be a homebody if I want to,” he said, shrugging, though the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t being serious. “Give me some credits, alright? I can rock sweatpants.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Maybe you will. You’ll be living with me soon enough—” you froze slightly at that reminder, and your smile wavered. He noticed the shift and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ll make sure to show up to the next meeting. Promise.”

You gave him a small nod, still smiling. “You’d better.”

He nodded, and for the first time since you’d met, there was no teasing in his expression—just quiet understanding. You gave him one last look before heading down the hall, feeling the warmth of your laugh still lingering in the air between you.

And Rafe stood there watching you walk away, thinking about how cute your laugh was—and how much he wanted to hear it again.

chapter three

[nxtaliaistyping]

Thinking about Bruce Wayne fucking the disobedience out of you

18+ nsfw, fem reader, spanking, rough sex

Knowing that Bruce Wayne was Batman was a luxury that few people had, and he reminded you of it daily. How it’s a risk for you to know, it’s a risk for him to be dating you in the first place. So the one thing he asks of you, is to listen to him. All he wants is for you to be safe, and he knows what’s best for you.

So when you’re standing there in your stupidly attractive outfit, having followed Bruce…no, followed Batman, into the warehouse he’d thought a rising drug gang was utilizing, he was pissed beyond belief.

Jaw clenched, visible at the cut-off of his cowl, he grabs your arm and pulls you over to some nearby wooden crates, throwing you over them so your ass is practically hanging out the short skirt.

“I told you. I told you never to follow me. And you didn’t fucking listen.” He growls, the voice he usually saves for criminals he needs to scare a confession out of now being directed at you.

No matter how much you whimper that you’re sorry, clearly it’s falling on deaf ears as he pulls your skirt up and spanks you. Hard.

“Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson. A lesson to actually listen.”

He strikes again and again, hard ones too. Your ass feels bruised and aching, as your frame jolts with each spank. Clenching your thighs together offers you little relief, all that’s left is to cling to the crate for dear life and hope to god some criminal doesn’t wander in to see the bat spanking you like a naughty child.

The truth is, Bruce had found evidence that the gang had moved their base of operations, meaning this area was truly abandoned. But he figures you don’t need to know that, maybe the fear and anxiety at being seen will further drive home the lesson he’s attempting to teach.

Just when you’re about to cry out that you can’t take anymore, he rips your underwear off with sheer brute strength right before fiddling with the crotch of his suit. You don’t dare turn to try and see what he’s doing, fearing more punishment.

But the feeling of his cock tapping against your ass tells you what is about to happen, as you arch your back wantonly.

“This isn’t a reward, do you hear me?” He grunts out, before sliding into you quickly, setting a rough pace without giving you time to adjust. You grip the crate tighter, eyes rolling back at the harsh rhythm.

Little moans and whines are fucked out of you with each thrust. All of them are music to Bruce’s ears, despite his annoyance at your behaviour. Still he keeps railing you like he hates you, forcing his cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your stomach. The heat rushes to your core, clenching around him.

“I’m gonna cum in this pussy…gonna take you home leaking and wanting.” He states, speeding up to clearly chase his release. “If you’d have just been a good girl like I wanted, I’d have ate you out when I got back. I’d have made you gush around my tongue like I always do. But no. You had to pull a stunt like this.”

When he cums, he does so with an almost animalistic growl, marking you from the inside with his hot seed. You feel it fill you up, but you also feel the burning need that comes with not being able to orgasm. Whimpering as he pulls out, he picks you up bridal style before walking you to the batmobile and placing you in the passenger side. At least he didn’t place you in the back, restrained where the criminals usually go.

As he drives back, you feel his release seep out of your used cunt, surely staining the seats. But you don’t say anything, just trying to keep your thighs tightly pressed together. The whole time, it's silent, until he eventually cracks once he gets you home safe. Telling you how worried he was, how you're the best, purest thing in his life, how he needs to protect you no matter what.

And if he goes back on his word and makes you cum all over his thick callous fingers...well he just can't resist <3

[adrienneleclerc]

I love each and every one of your stories! 🥰

I have an idea where the girl pranks her boyfriend that her friends were having a “Christmas party” and pretended she was going to wear sexy lingerie as an outfit and I would totally love to read how the F1 guys would react to that. I don’t know how you feel about that 🙈

Love the idea!

A Nonsense Christmas Prank

+18: Minors Do Not Interact

Summary: How the drivers react to you “leaving” the house in lingerie

Warning: sexual content (in a way, I guess)

A/N: drivers include Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri

For Reference, this is the lingerie (it’s the cutest one I found on a mannequin)

Y/N stepped out in lingerie and strappy heels, talking on the phone with her friend.

“Yes, Miranda, im heading out right now.” Y/N made it a point to talk loudly to get the attention of her partner, making them look up and seeing her in the scandalous attire. “When have I ever been late? It’s not like I’m gonna be late for wine and gossip, I’m practically out the door.” Y/N hung up the phone

Charles Leclerc

“Where are you going like that, Mon ange?” Charles asked.

“Oh, my friend Miranda is having a nonsense Christmas party. Yes, it’s inspired by Sabrina Carpenter, don’t ask.” Y/N said.

“I thought this little set up was for my eyes only, I don’t know how I feel about other men looking at what’s mine.” Charles admitted, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Oh haha, there won’t be any men there.” Y/N said, tying up the rob she was wearing.

“Okay, but I’ll feel better if I’m taking you to Miranda’s apartment, where does she live, again?” Charles asked, getting his coat out of the closet and getting his keys.

“Are you crazy? I’m not going to her Christmas party like this.” Y/N said. Charles had that confused puppy look on his face.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked, putting his keys back on the hook.

“I mean, yes, it’s a Christmas party, but I’m wearing this.” Y/N said pulling out a more winter appropriate party outfit.

“Oh thank god.” Charles said with his hand in his chest. “I’m still taking you though, get dressed.”

“Yes sir.” Y/N said teasingly.

Lando Norris

“Are you planning on wearing a coat with that outfit?” Lando asked.

“Yes, Lando, I’m going to be wearing the parka you bought me for my birthday (December babies UNITE), how do I look?” Y/N asked, holding the rob open.

“You look Great, so Great in fact, you should cancel on your friend Miranda and spend the night with me.” Lando said.

“Thank you, baby, but i am not canceling on Miranda.” Y/N said.

“Do you think she’ll mind me crashing the party?” Lando asked, playing with the string of Y/N’s robe.

“Probably, it’s more of a girls’ night.” Y/N said,

“Damn…are you sure you can’t stay with me tonight?” Lando asked with a pout.

“Positive. Can I go now?” Y/N asks.

“Yes, you can go, but i need updates about the party. And you need to bring leftovers.” Lando said, giving Y/N a kiss on the forehead. Y/N giggled. “What’s so funny about being sweet to my baby girl?”

“No, it’s not that, but do you actually think I’m leaving the apartment in lingerie? Of course not, I’m wearing jeans, your quarter zip, and the uggs you got me for Christmas.” Y/N said, giving Lando a quick peck. “But I do love you for not telling me to change.”

“Trust me, I really wanted to, but I didn’t want to sound like a dick. Think I can drop you off at the party? Do you need to bring anything?” Lando asked.

“Just let me change and you can take me.” Y/N said.

Logan Sargeant

“Babe, Florida is not that hot.” Logan said, looking at Y/N’s outfit,

“I’m going to my friend’s place, she’s having a Christmas party.” Y/N said.

“Your ‘clothes’ don’t really seem christmassy to me. It’s more of a Valentine’s Day getup, or my birthday.” Logan said.

“Well Miranda thought it would be fun.” Y/N said.

“And im sure it will be. But you sure it’s a good idea to go dressed like that?” Logan asked. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing! But I want you to be safe.”

“I’m a big tough girl, I tie my own shoes and everything.” Y/N said.

“Don’t quote Hercules to me, this is serious. At least let me take you.” Logan said.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Y/N said. “Im just gonna change real quick.”

“Wait, you’re not wearing that?” Logan asked.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous, it was a prank. Just give me a minutes.” Y/N said because she got dressed in a cream colored long sleeved Henley with a red plaid skirt, sheer black stockings, and cream colored heeled booties.

“You look beautiful.” Logan kissed Y/N. “Let’s go.”

Oscar Piastri

“Where are you going darling?” Oscar asked

“While we’re in Australia, my friend invited me to a Christmas party.” Y/N replied.

“I didn’t know you had any friends here.” Oscar said.

“Yeah, she moved her in September for her job.” Y/N said.

“That’s good, have fun with her then.” Oscar said. Y/N looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not going to say anything about what I’m wearing?” Y/N asked.

“You look beautiful, darling. I’ll take you, let me text my mom though.” Oscar said.

“I am so concerned that you are not saying anything about me wearing lingerie to a Christmas party, Shark Bait.” Y/N said.

“It’s just a girls night, right? That sounds perfectly fine. Besides, I can’t tell you how to dress, I know how much you hate being told what to do outside the bedroom and work.” Oscar said and Y/N slapped his chest playfully.

“Well I’m glad you know I hate being told what to do. I’m gonna change.” Y/N said.

“Wait, you weren’t going out like that?” Oscar asked,

“Babe, it may be hot here, but definitely not hot enough to dress like this.” Y/N said before she changed into an emerald green V-neck top with a black shorts and sneakers. “Next time, can we please stay in England for Christmas? Or at least go to New York? It feels weird to have Christmas during the summer.”

“Well for me, it’s weird to have Christmas in the winter.” Oscar said.

“Whatever, New York Christmas is iconic, argue with the wall, let’s go.” Y/N said.

“Yes ma’am.” Oscar replied.

The End

Not the best but lmk if you want part 2 with Lewis, Daniel, Carlos, and Max.

[thewickedjazzy]

Special week: Blurred Lines for Kinktober.

♡featuring: jjk & bsd x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩PHASE 1: geto & chuuya x reader

♡synopsis: being a movie star in the jjk world has its perks and pitfalls, especially when you find yourself face-to-face with four swoon-worthy men. to make things even more complicated, you end up sandwiched between chuuya and geto in one night.

♡warnings: ņsfw, mdņi 18+, established plot, smųt with plot, characters are aged up or in their 20s, threesome, double penetration, cum mentioned, double cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, degradation 'slut' ... not proofreaded, ig that's it?

♡word count & a/n: 5.2k, a special thank you & a smooch to @remlionheart for helping my ass write this and feeding my brain with her sweet ideas. it was so amusing and fun to write that i couldn't stop giggling. this fic is dedicated to my bbg @bittysuguro

[check the jjk & bsd special week masterlist]

“what do you mean my card got declined?!” a furious voice echoes across the pristine, high-end louis vuitton boutique.

you pause mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. the boutique is one of the most luxurious on omotesando street, and you haven't expected any kind of outburst here, of all places and you can’t help but arch an eyebrow, pondering if he's trying to pay with monopoly money or if his bank account has suddenly taken a nosedive.

the subject of the chaos stands by the counter, fuming—he’s a redheaded man in a black designer coat with a flat cap pulled low over his striking blue eyes. he looks like he just walked out of a fashion editorial, except for the part where he is practically roaring at the terrified cashier and waving a gold card like a weapon.

you find yourself blinking once again—what in the world is going on?

“sir, i ran it three times, and each time—” the cashier stammers, flinching as the redhead leans over the counter like he is about to blow the place up.

“i know there’s money on it! RUN IT AGAIN!” he growls, and you swear you can see veins popping in his neck.

before the poor cashier can even protest further, another man saunters into view, tall, lean, and wearing the most obnoxiously casual yet designer outfit. white hair peeks out from under a pair of dark sunglasses, and despite the clear chaos, he is wearing the cockiest grin you’d ever seen.

“tsk..no need to get so worked up,” the white-haired man drawled, arms laden with five louis vuitton bags. “your poor is showing.”

the redhead whirls on him, eyes blazing. “what did you just say, you asshole?”

the taller man stands there unfazed with his shit grin spreading wider. “you heard me, short stack.”

the redhead’s whole body stiffens, and you half expect him to launch himself across the store. you are only a few paces away, casually browsing the new bags collection, but now you find yourself watching the scene unfold like a deer caught in headlights.

“oh, please,” the white-haired man replies with a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “you sure you wanna do this, kid?”

at that moment, the shorter guy’s feet literally lift off the ground as he floats up toward the white-haired man, arm cocking back for a punch. it's like some weird gravity-defying stunt, and you can't help but stare, unsure whether you are hallucinating or if this is a really elaborate prank. you half-expect someone to jump out and yell, “surprise! you’re on candid camera!” while someone else films your bewildered expression.

the punch swings forward but… stops. midair.

“what the—” the redhead sputters, his fist hovering a mere inch from the smug man’s face, like an invisible barrier is blocking it.

“oh,” the taller man snickers, “you actually tried.”

just as things are about to get out of hand, a third man appeared—a taller figure with dark hair tied back wearing a serene expression as if he just strolled in from a yoga session. he places a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, gently pulling him back to the ground.

“hey man, let’s not destroy the boutique today, alright?” he says, tone weary yet unbelievably calm, like he is used to this kind of chaos. his gaze shifts to the white-haired man whilst rolling his eyes. “saturo, stop antagonizing everyone you meet. people are staring.”

the redhead grumbles something under his breath, glaring daggers at the taller man—saturo?—who simply chuckles back at him.

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the fiery-haired man still glaring at gojo, like he’d just stolen his lunch money—suddenly turns his gaze toward you as if he can feel your eyes boring into him. “what are you staring at?”

he takes a step toward you, and you feel your body tense up like a live wire. you can't help but blink back at him, because honestly, what are you supposed to say? "oh sorry, just trying to figure out why a five-foot ball of rage is levitating in a louis vuitton boutique?"

before you can formulate any semblance of a response, a smooth voice cuts in, dripping with nonchalance, “now, now, chuuya, no need to take your frustration out on innocent bystanders.”

the ginger-haired man—chuuya, you think you heard—glare flickers with surprise as a tall man with messy brown hair sidles up next to him, his brown trench coat swaying with his lazy steps. you barely register him before he sweeps his hand out, pushing chuuya aside like a piece of furniture. “pardon my associate’s behavior. he’s always a little testy when his card gets declined.”

you blink. “huh…?”

the brown-haired man gives you a dazzling smile, the kind that should come with a warning label. “ahh but you…” he trails off, letting his dark eyes roam over your figure with a look of pure delight. “such a wonderful sight. how can such a radiant beauty even exist in this world?” his voice dips, smooth and syrupy, and you can practically hear the faint sound of violins playing in the background.

chuuya’s eye twitches as he scowls at dazai. “are you seriously doing this right now?”

dazai ignores him entirely, stepping closer to you. “osamu dazai, by the way. and you must be the goddess gracing us with your presence today. It’s an honor to bask in your light.” he flashes you a grin, the kind that looks practiced but somehow genuine, and you’re not sure if you should be flattered or call security.

“i—uh—” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the situation.

before you can utter another word out, the white-haired man—saturo, you assume, based on the way the other man addressed him—suddenly whips around, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough to reveal his gorgeous icy blue eyes, narrowing his gaze on you.

his entire demeanour shifts in an instant, going from casual smugness to absolute starstruck fanboy in 0.5 seconds. “wait… wait a damn minute—” his eyes widen, and he practically leaps forward, shoving dazai to the side like an afterthought. “you… you’re—no way, it's you! you’re my favourite movie star!”

dazai, now comically stumbling from the shove, frowns, “hey, i was talking first!”

saturo doesn’t even hear him, his attention laser-focused on you as he runs a hand through his white hair, grinning like an excited puppy. “holy shit, i’ve seen all your movies! you’re incredible! i mean, not just pretty—you’re talented too! that last film? chef’s kiss. truly. pure brilliance.”

you stare at him flabbergasted by the sudden barrage of praise. “uh… thanks?”

saturo claps his hands together and then turns to dazai with a smug smirk. “sorry, what were you saying? something about basking in her light?”

dazai, ever the smooth operator, recovers quickly, “wait a minute…” he muses, leaning slightly closer to saturo, “you know, your voice is kind of… nice.” he cocks his head as if discovering a new piece of an intriguing puzzle. “almost like i’ve heard it somewhere before… perhaps in a mirror?”

saturo's eyebrows shoot up, a look of surprise briefly crossing his face before his smug grin returns again. “well, well, aren’t you observant?” he says, hands casually stuffed into his pockets as he looks dazai up and down. “i guess i should compliment your taste then—great minds and great voices think alike.” he chuckles, and you can almost feel the mutual smugness radiating off the two men.

chuuya, who has been silently simmering through the whole exchange, finally explodes. “are ya both fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls, fists clenching at both his sides. “first, i’ve gotta deal with him”—he jabs a finger toward dazai—“and now this jackass too?” his foot taps impatiently on the boutique's polished floor, like he's ready to fight both of them.

“chuuya tsk.. tsk you're just upset because your little card got declined.” he shakes his head chuckling, “i didn’t know the economy would reject you specifically. but you know, you could always start a gofundme or maybe, uh i don’t know, pawn that fancy hat of yours?” he smirks playfully. “i hear they pay well for vintage."

saturo chuckles, clearly enjoying their little banter chaos. “hey, i like this guy! he’s got jokes.” he leans over toward dazai. “you sure we didn’t cross paths before?” then, turning his attention back to you with a teasing glint, he adds, “don’t worry, sweetheart—i’m still your best bet if you’re looking for a hero.” his eyes glimmer with flirtatious arrogance, as if he’s already planned your honeymoon by now.

chuuya throws his hands up in exasperation, shooting dazai an accusatory glare. “this isn’t funny, dazai! how the hell are we even supposed to survive in this weird-ass world when my damn card doesn’t work? not to mention that this is your fault for bringing us to this ridiculous place!”

the bandaged man sighs briefly, slipping into a serious look, “you're right. but I guess it's time to become a street performer. i mean, with your size, you’d make an adorable little tap dancer. might even make some decent pocket change.”

“you son of a—”

“enough!” the hot black-haired guy, who had been silently observing, steps forward, placing a firm hand on chuuya’s shoulder again. “we’re in public. can we try to act like civilized people for five minutes?”

chuuya grumbles, his fists still clenched, but the black-haired guy’s firm grip on his shoulder seems to anchor him enough to stop an all-out brawl. he glares between the two idiots in front of him—dazai still grinning like a smug bastard and saturo, who looks like he’s already planning his next punchline.

saturo straightens, his grin shifting slightly. “ugh suguru..don’t be such a killjoy.” he gestures lazily at dazai, “i was just making a new friend.”

chuuya scoffs. “friends? yeah, right. who the hell are you guys anyway?”

“just… tell them your name already. this isn’t a fight club.” suguru rolls his eyes.

saturo shrugs, turning his attention back to you and flashing that million-watt grin. “well, since suguru insists.” he dramatically puts a hand to his chest as if introducing himself for the first time. “i’m gojo satoru. the strongest sorcerer and uh apparently,”—he glances at dazai with a smirk—“your newest competitor for this sweetheart's attention.”

you sigh, clearly having enough of this shitty situation that feels like the setup for a sitcom episode. the ginger looks more frustrated by the minute, and the sight of him glaring daggers at the so-called companions makes you feel slightly bad for him.

“alright, chuuya,” you say, pulling him toward the cashier, ignoring the stunned look on his face. you feel suguru follow, maintaining a calming presence beside you. the cashier looks just as frazzled as chuuya, but you’re determined to end this nightmare once and for all.

“wait, what are you doing?” chuuya protests, glancing back at you with wide eyes. “you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, really. it happens all the time,” you insist, shooting him a reassuring smile as you pull out your own card. “this is on me. plus you can pay me back in another way, though.”

dazai, overhearing this, perks up like a dog hearing a treat bag crinkle. he sidles over with that ever-present smirk on his face, leaning closer to you. “oh, you accept other ways? you naughty naughtyyy tsk!”

you roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm slightly, and ignore him completely. instead, you focus on the cashier, who looks thoroughly confused but also relieved to see the drama coming to a close. “just run this through, please.”

chuuya crosses his arms, clearly still disgruntled but unable to resist the tide of your determination. suguru shoots him a look that seems to say, “just go with it,” and chuuya huffs, lips pressing into a thin line.

as the cashier processes the transaction, you turn back to huuya. “it's fine, I really get it—everyone has rough days. uh how about you let me help you out a bit? i actually have a project coming up that could use two male leads.”

“it’s a vampire movie,” you explain with a grin spreading across your face as you watch chuuya’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “and honestly, you two fit the aesthetic perfectly. everyone i’ve auditioned so far has been terrible. i could really use your looks and… personalities,” you point toward the redhead and the hot black-haired man.

chuuya raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his features. “a vampire movie? seriously?”

“actually, I think you’d be perfect for the role. your features and that hair of yours are perfect for it.” suguro chuckles, nudging chuuya slightly.

you watch as chuuya’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. for the first time, he chuckles, rolling his eyes at suguro. “you wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve had to dress up like one just to save that idiot dazai’s neck.”

suguro chuckles back, shaking his head. “guess it’s time to redeem yourself.”

chuuya huffs but a small smile betrays him. “fine, i’ll consider it. but only if you promise i don’t have to wear any ridiculous costumes.”

“i can’t make any promises,” you say with a teasing grin.

suguro smiles, leaning against the counter. “i’ll accept the offer, too.”

you beam, feeling a wave of relief wash over you finally. “great! i’ll send you both the details later.”

“ugh, why is this so hard?” you can’t help but chuckle at his struggle, it’s not like you're defusing a bomb here—just rehearsing a kiss for a scene.

“chuuya, it’s just a kiss. how hard can it be?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, watching him pace back and forth through the rehearsal room like a caged tiger.

“just a kiss? have you seen your face?” he gestures wildly, and you swear you can see steam rising from his ears. “you make it look way too easy!”

you giggle glancing up as you hear a faint creak from the door only to see geto strolling in and casually leaning against the door frame. you can tell that he just got out of the shower as he holds a towel drying his luxurious black hair. you part your lips trying to take a deep breath as you see his damp hair clinging to his neck in a way that’s... well, distracting, and you're not above admitting that. but as he shakes the water from his hair, your mind drifts back—against your will, mind you—to that moment from a week ago.

technically, it was a regular day. nothing special. just you trying on a costume in one of those annoyingly small fitting rooms. and of course, it had to be the tightest, most ill-fitting costume known to mankind. the zipper might as well have been laughing at your misery as you wrestled with it, stuck halfway like it had a personal problem against you.

after what felt like an hour of struggle, you finally managed to peel the outfit off your body like some weird victory over fabric. and that’s when geto decided to make his grand entrance.

“oh, uh... wrong room,” he said and in that split second, you swore your heart had leaped out of your chest, seeing his eyes go wide, flicking down clearly taking in the delicate lace set you had on and oh, the way he stares makes your cheeks flush hotter than the sun on a july afternoon.

you are friends. just friends. well, maybe more than friends. the three of you are getting along—maybe a little too perfectly, if you are being honest. it is in the small things like how geto always have a lighter handy for you and chuuya, even though he doesn't smoke. you have no idea why, but somehow he’d always flick it open when you reach for a cigarette. that, combined with the lingering glances and casual touches that seems far too intimate to be strictly platonic, says something about where things are heading.

chuuya, on the other hand, is... well, he is oblivious. not that you mind it. he is just so focused on the roles you are rehearsing together that he hasn't picked up on the fact that you’ve been flirting with him for a while now. hell, geto had caught on, but chuuya? the poor guy needs it spelled out. you are going to have to make your moves more obvious—or, in chuuya’s case, maybe drastic.

and if you think back to certain moments—like that night when chuuya got himself absolutely plastered. that redhead brat went from zero to blackout drunk in record time, and of course, it fell on you to drag his sorry ass home. you just couldn't see him stumbling out of a bar, half-laughing, half-cursing, completely out of it and do nothing. to be fair, this all came after his impulsive bank robbery—yeah, you heard that right. a bank robbery. apparently, after the whole boutique incident, chuuya decided he was tired of being broke.

so there you were, guiding this drunken menace through the streets, and contemplating how you could spring him from the charges he was facing. he was barely coherent, mumbling something about the "best wine ever" and how the stars were "calling his name." romantic, right? wrong.

by the time you finally got him inside, chuuya, in all his sottish wisdom, decided clothes were optional. without a word—no hesitation, no second thoughts—he started stripping. pants off, dress shirt shirt flung across the room, and he was about to lose the rest when you jumped in.

“whoa, okay, let’s maybe not do that right now?” you managed to say, trying your best to avert your gaze but also wondering why the hell the universe had put you in this situation. because, let’s be honest, as much as you didn't want to stop him... you really, really should.

and you did stop him, somehow managing to wrestle him back into some kind of decency before he could make things even more harder for you. needless to say, he was so out of it, that he passed out immediately after—half clothed, thank god.

and you thank heavens that he doesn't remember a damn thing the next morning about his one-man strip show.

you blink as the sound of geto’s teasing voice yanking you from your thoughts.

“what’s going on in here? i could hear chuuya’s desperation from down the hall.”

chuuya glares at him. “shut it, geto. we’re just—”

“rehearsing a kiss,” you finish, unable to resist the urge to jump in.

“exactly,” chuuya huffs, crossing his arms defensively and pouting—god he's so adorable. “just a stupid kiss.”

geto smiles softly and steps further into the rehearsal room, “well, it can’t be that bad. show me what you’ve got.”

chuuya rolls his eyes, obviously being tested by geto’s teasing and you can see him mentally gearing up, “alright, but don’t laugh if I mess it up.”

you try to flash him an encouraging smile to ease him a little bit. “just breathe. it’s literally just a kiss.”

he nods stepping closer, you notice his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. he gets within a breath’s distance and suddenly seems frozen, his confidence evaporating as he stumbles over his own thoughts. “uh... so...”

you can't help but chuckle softly, leaning in a little closer to coax him. “come on, chuuya. just focus on my lips. you can do this.”

geto—who had been watching from the side with a knowing smile—decided to step in. “you know, it might help to ease the tension. let me give you a few pointers.

chuuya blinked, caught off guard but quickly nodded. “yeah, sure. anything to make it look… believable.”

without uttering a response, he strides over and gently cupping your sweet pink cheeks, leaning in to press his soft lips against yours, and oh god, it’s perfect. the world fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you and the warmth of his lips. you let out a soft gasp as he slips his tongue between your puffy lips, tilting his head for better acess making your heart race as your mind wonders if you’ve just been seduced in a rehearsal. honestly you’re taken aback by how natural it feels, how perfectly his lips fit against yours.

geto loses himself completely in the kiss, his fingers brushing through your hair as if he’s trying to pull you closer, as the kiss deepens a low hum escapes his wet lips. you feel a rush of pleasure floods through your entire body, and just when you think it can’t get better, he pulls away, slightly breathless and blinking as he locks gaze with your lips for a bit before averting his gaze to chuuya.

well as for chuuya, the ginger stands there, wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted as if he hasn’t fully processed what just happened. “uh… was the tongue really necessary?” he stammers, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of crimson.

geto chuckles, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “now you try.”

chuuya blinks again, still looking all flustered but still wants to get it right. he turns to you, hand sliding to your waist in a way that is awkward but endearing.

“fine… i got this.” his voice is hushed as his take your lower lip between his pink ones, trying to mimic what geto had done. it was just a kiss—chaste, careful, like he was still holding back. but then something clicked within you, the ginger's eyes snaps open before growling into your mouth as you slip your tongue into into his before twirling the two pink muscles together. you glide your delicate fingers through his messy strands, pulling him closer for a few seconds before he pulls back, breathing heavily.

“okay, that was… not acting right?” he says, his brows furrowing as he tries to catch his breath. “is that how it’s supposed to feel?”

geto sighs loudly, shaking his head in exasperation. “chuuya, how didn’t you notice? it’s been going on for a few months already. didn’t you realise it? because if you really want us to… you know...”

“ugh, thank you!!! finally someone who can read my hints,” you exclaim, shooting geto a grateful look.

chuuya blinks a few times, his brows knitting together as he processes what’s just been said. “wait, hold on,” he splutter, looking back and forth between you and geto. “are you both... serious?”

“god, i’m such an idiot. i thought we were just—” he pauses

“just friends?” you finish for him, giving him a playful nudge. “come on, chuuya. i thought i was dropping some pretty big hints.”

the redhead runs a hand through his messy hair, looking both at you and geto. “ so..uh..you really want us to fuck you?” he mutters, lips forming into a slow grin.. “like...both of us?”

“uh, yeah?” you say, biting your lip to suppress a smile watching chuuya and geto exchange glances more like a silent understanding seems to pass between them, and before you know it, geto strides over and lifts you off the ground effortlessly.

“wait, wait, wait!” you squeal, laughter bubbling up as you squirm in his grip. “what are you doing?”

“just a little detour to somewhere more private.” he says, glancing back at chuuya, who raises his eyebrows with a sick lustful grin plastered on his face.

“seriously, you guys, i can walk!” you protest, but the thrill of being swept off your feet makes it hard to sound convincing.

“good, ‘cause we'll make sure you won’t be walking straight for days.” chuuya says as he opens the trailer door, stepping inside with geto following suit.

the sound of a zipper being pulled down is the last thing you hear before you’re instantly pressed between the two men, their eager hands working quickly to strip you bare. the fabric falls away easily revealing more of your skin to their hungry eyes.

“damn,” chuuya breathes seeing your skin pebble once they hit the cold air. “you’re even prettier than i imagined.”

your eyes flutter shut as your head falls back on geto's shoulder and you relax for just a second before you feel chuuya's mouth encircled your nipple, his jot tongue swirling around your areola tasting your sweet skin as he groans softly against it.

“hngh—chuuya…” you whimper fingers tightening in his messy hair.

he releases your nipple with a slick pop, then brings his large palms to knead your pillowy breasts. as geto lifts you slightly, guiding your hips down to press against his hard cock. you open your eyes to glance down, breath hitching at the sight of him resting between your slick folds. you can't help but let out a soft gasp seeing how massive he is, tip coated with pre-cum and veins popping and soaked by your essence. you let out a soft moan as he peppers your neck with hot, wet kisses, goosebumps rise across the plains of your skin.

chuuya leans down easing you into geto's embrace and spreading your plushy thighs wider.

“look at her pussy—fuck s’pretty..” chuuya drawls as he spits on your swollen clit drawing lazy cut shapes on it, the warm fluid drooling between your puffy folds.

he then plunges his spit-slicked fingers past the swell of your plump lips, coaxing you to get even wetter for them as geto's large, gritty hands grip your ass, pulling you back and forth on his throbbing, leaky, fat cock.

“such a good slut, sucking my fingers so well,” your cunt clenches eagerly sucking on chuuya's long fingers, once he's truly satisfied, he pulls out of your cunt before smearing your juices all across your folds.

geto grips his cock in his palm, the leaky tip smearing your juices as he positions himself between your chubby cheeks. you never tried anal before and you never expected yourself to gasp that loud feeling the rush of spit pools against the pad of your tongue from him stretching your hole so perfectly. you cry out in surprise before chuuya swiftly plunges his tongue into your mouth swallowing your lewd noises.

“ffuck, i’ve been waiting for this, babe.” you hear geto's soft moans against the shell of your ear from behind, “... thinking of you in those lacy little things... mngh, you have no idea how many nights i couldn’t sleep, wanting to feel you... s’warm and tight around me.” he grips your juicy ass cheeks tighter, thrusting you down against him, as if he can’t wait any longer.

“ready for me doll?” chuuya breathes against your lips.

“yes ahh please chuu—mngh” you try to respond, but your words dissolve into a moan as you feel him slowly push inside your heated core. you had expected him to be gentle—just not this gentle. he languidly slides deeper and deeper, his head dropping forward to rest against your soft breasts, growling as he buries himself inside you.

you dig your nails into chuuya’s shoulders, forming delicate marks on his pale skin as you use him for leverage to push yourself back onto geto's cock. each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, making you shudder as chuuya fills you completely.

“god, you feel s’ fuckin’ good, doll,”

your moans get higher and higher mingling with their grunts and growling, chuuya finds himself thrusting faster than usual, his cock is pulsing from watching you nastily taking him and his friend's cock so perfectly.

“y-you okay doll?” chuuya breathes, his voice laced with awe as he watches your eyes roll back into your skull.

“ffuhmk—yes please more,” you cry feeling geto's pace starting to match chuuya's fast and hard ones, your body tenses up, pleasured from all angles, both with their girthy huge cocks filling you up to the brim, your vision blurs seeing through haze chuuya's eyes roll back, his fiery strands sticking to his face and neck, red hue blossoming under his skin and rapidly spreading to his chest.

“jesus f-fucking christ, you're so hot.” geto breathes against your skin tilting your head so that he can bite down your bottom lip gently before drawing circles with your tongues making the pair of you an even greater mess, both his hands reach up to cup your pillowy breasts squeezing them as they jiggle between the palm of his hands, “mmngh—sugu~ahh” the two of you moaning in unison.

before you can catch your breath, chuuya grabs your cheeks with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity in a sloppy kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth as his fingers roughly toy with your clit, drawing sharp, almost painful pleasure from the sensitive nub. “you gonna cum for us, mngh? gonna be a good slut and cum?” he growls, cupid's bows wet from your searing kisses as his fingers cut circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

the world around you blurs as you're finally pushed over the edge with the repeated brush of their cocks against your spongy spots—a blinding white light floods your vision, static crackling in your ears. chuuya watches in awe, like he's witnessing a miracle, as you cum, your body convulsing with pleasure. at the same time, geto spills inside you, his warm release filling your womb to the brim. the intensity makes you feel like you might pass out, a scream ripping from your throat as the knot in your lower belly unravels with chuuya's twitching cock inside you as he too rocks inside you multiple times riding out his sweet release with force that makes your body shake as he paints your walls with his hot shooting cum filling you up perfectly. you three reach your peak together, perfectly in sync.

the world gradually comes back into focus, as you three try to calm down from your release. geto is the first to pull out, and as he does, you feel his cum slowly drip from your body. chuuya follows, watching in awe your ruined holes leaking with their seeds as your legs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure.

chuuya chuckles breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, and gently rubs a hand over your thigh. “i’ll get the bath ready for ya doll,” he murmurs, voice still rough from the intensity of his orgasm, before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

you nod, watching his bare form head to the bathroom as geto leans in close, pressing gentle, reassuring kisses to your lips while his strong hands tenderly massage your trembling legs. “relax, baby” he whispers between kisses, his lips still deliciously sloppy, “you did so well. let me take care of you.” he strokes your skin soothingly, bringing you down from the high as you try to catch your breath.

you give geto a tired but grateful smile, your chest still heaving, “t-thank you, sugu,” you murmur softly, watching his lips curl into a satisfied grin, and he continues to massage your legs, his fingers easing away the lingering tension.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @whiteelovex @dottedhalfnotes @victoria1676 @ghostedwriting @a-trashbag @bakedpotato12 @ambervanth @sakui1 @iams0up @osamucide @lighthoonie @chuuyascumsock

[babyleostuff]

today was (not) a fairytale

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!mingyu x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.6k

. . . mingyu forgets about your anniversary

mingyu was a busy guy, that was obvious. but one thing he was never too busy for was you. it didn’t matter if it was just a can you couldn’t open, or a spider that had to be killed - mingyu was always there for you, no questions asked. to be honest, you could call him and tell him you wanted a hug, and he’d drop whatever he was doing just so he could trap you in a bear hug for the rest of the evening. that was how whipped he was. 

and now he was late. two hours. 

at first you thought something had happened - you texted some of the boys to ask if they knew where he was, you called his mom - you even checked the latest news, worried to see any updates about a car accident. 

nothing. 

sitting at an expensive restaurant full of people by yourself was humiliating enough, but what bothered you even more was that it was supposed to be your anniversary dinner. mingyu never missed any milestones of your relationship, he even bought you small gifts on the date you had your first kiss. 

then it hit you - his location. quickly pulling your phone out of your bag, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

he was at seungcheol’s place. 

not bothering to call your boyfriend - it wasn’t like he was answering any of your calls before, so why bother - you called the oldest boy, fiddling with your napkin that you wouldn’t be probably using tonight either way. 

“hey, is everything okay?” seungcheol asked immediately. it wasn’t often that you called him, especially at such a late hour, so he figured something must have happened. 

“is mingyu with you?” you heard some shuffling in the background, and noises that sounded a lot like your boyfriend and hoshi. 

“um, yeah. you want me to pass him the phone?” you could clearly hear seungcheol’s confusion in his voice, but you weren’t in the “shitting rainbows and unicorns” mood, so you didn’t even bother with hiding your annoyance. 

“fan-fucking-tastic.” 

you couldn’t believe he actually forgot about your anniversary. you had been planning this date for such a long time now. getting a reservation at this restaurant wasn’t easy, even mingyu had to pull a few strings and flash a couple of polite smiles, so you could come here on the exact day of your milestone. you prepared matching outfits for god’s sake. how could have he forgotten? 

“tell him not to come back home tonight,” you said, and hung up the phone before seungcheol could say anything. 

you spend the whole ride home trying to keep your tears from falling. you didn’t know what was worse - sitting in a restaurant for two hours waiting for someone who was over at his friend’s house drinking soju, or that the love of your life forgot about something so important. 

the second you got inside your apartment you practically ripped off the dress you were wearing, suddenly almost disgusted by the feel of it on your skin. your shoes joined soon after, and not even five minutes after getting back home you got changed into PJs (for once not being mingyu’s shirt), and poured yourself a glass of wine. 

“happy anniversary i quess.” 

when you were about to turn off all of the lights in the living room for the night, you heard the door open and close with much more force than needed. 

“baby? baby, where ar-,” he emerged from around the corner, stopping right in front of you. you took in his form - hair tousled from the wind, his shirt from practice still on, and shoes on his feet, which never happened - mingyu never wore shoes inside the house. huh, he must’ve been in a real hurry to get here. 

“i’m so sorry, i got here as quickly as possible,” he said, a little out of breath. you had to stop the urge to laugh in his face because what the hell? 

“too bad you didn’t bother to show up where you really were supposed to be, mingyu,” you snickered, anger radiating off of you. your boyfriend knew he was in deep shit the second seungcheol shot him a worried look, and how he would make it up to you, he had no idea. 

“i know, baby-,” 

“don’t call me that. you don’t deserve it mingyu,” you pointed a finger at his chest. just then he noticed you got your nails done to match the design on his tie, and he could swear he died a little bit at that moment. “do you have any idea how humiliated i felt sitting there like an idiot, waiting for my fucking boyfriend who decided to go out with his friends on our anniversary?” 

“i called your friends, your family. i thought you got into an accident for fucks sake,” your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, as you finally felt something else than just anger. the thought of losing mingyu wasn’t something you wanted to think about on your anniversary night. “i was so excited for this, and you knew it,” you took in a shaky inhale, once again feeling the tears brimming in your eyes.  

it took everything from you not to hug mingyu, he looked so… sad, and just so defeated, and that wasn’t something you were used to seeing on your boyfriend’s face. 

“there are a thousand excuses on my mind right now, but none of them will excuse my behaviour,” he sighed, his lower lip trembling. please don't cry, please don’t cry. “i forgot,” he said, straightening his back a little. “i simply forgot, and nothing i do will make up for it.” 

tears clouded your eyes, and you couldn’t help when they started falling down your cheeks, probably ruining the makeup you put so much effort into. if you knew you’d end up crying on your anniversary night you’d use a waterproof mascara. mingyu hesitantly raised his hand, as if he was afraid you’d run away from him, but when he saw you didn’t move an inch, he started wiping off the tears of your face with a gentle swipe of his thumb, almost as if you were about to fall apart. 

“say something. no, yell at me,” he said, and put your hand against his chest. “you can even hit me,” mingyu said, pleading in his eyes. “please, just do something.” 

“i don’t want to yell at you,” you sniffled, wiping off the rest of the tears yourself. “and i definitely don’t want to hit you. i just-,” you looked at him and only then noticed the dark circles under his eyes. did his face get slimmer too? “when was the last time you slept?”

he looked a bit taken aback by your question, considering he was begging you to hit him like a second ago. “to be honest, i don’t know, but i took some naps in the practice room. that’s not import-,”  

“when was the last time you ate?” you interrupted him again. 

his eyes softened because there was no way he just stood you up on one of the most important days of the year, and you were asking him about his well being. “i don't know.” 

i don’t know. hearing those words from a person who inhaled food like a vacuum, and could never say no to a snack broke your heart. how did you not notice how exhausted he was before? 

“oh, mingyu,” you said, tearing up again. “why didn’t you tell me, i would’ve brought you some food.” 

“i know, but i didn’t want to burden you. i knew i’d be fine,” he said, voice gentle. “besides, that’s not important now. let’s talk about how big of an asshole i am,” he grabbed your face in both of his hands, tilting it more upwards. 

“how can you say it’s not important?” you murmured, nuzzling your face further into his palm. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you without food for longer than an hour.” 

“hey, i don’t eat that much,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, and seeing mingyu’s face lit up at your, albeit quiet, laughter, you felt the anger leaving you for good.  

maybe you were too selfish? all you lived for for the past week was the date, but in the process you managed to somehow miss how exhausted your boyfriend was. yes, he did forget, but he was so overworked lately, you couldn’t really blame him, right? and it wasn’t like you were a saint either, you missed some dates in the past too. 

“whatever you’re thinking, drop it,” he said sternly. “don’t try to make any excuses for me. i forgot, okay? it’s all my fault.” 

technically you knew you had every right to be furious at him, hell - an hour you cursed him out with every curse word you knew, but maybe it wasn't the time to think straight, and just give the light of your life a second chance. “i don’t want to fight,” you said, wrapping your hands around his wrists. “and we still have,” you looked over at the clock, “two hours before midnight. we have the wine, and i think i have a pizza in the freezer.” 

mingyu shook his head in disbelief. “there’s no way you’re real.” leaning in, he placed a peck on your cheek, filling your chest with a warm, fuzzy feeling. “you look beautiful by the way,” he whispered, and put his forehead against yours. “i’m really sorry.” 

“i know, gyu. i know,” you whispered. “and mingyu?” 

“yeah?” 

“you can call me “baby” again.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom