#but then i return his glasses and I WAS ON MY KNEES

[motherismotheringggg]

Heheh this is the sub Nicholas anon. And if you can’t or don’t feel comfy no pressure at all. Maybe virgin Nicholas with dom experienced reader giving him a blowjob for the first time. Maybe the reader has the house to themselves and invites him over. And he’s had a crush on them for so long and is so excited… he’s so whiny too 🫣

surrendered

summary: see request above, thank you to this lovely anon who suggested this <3

type: dom fem! reader x sub nicholas chavez

tags/warnings: 18+, dry humping, sex while slightly intoxicated, oral (m! receiving), nipple play (m! receiving)

author’s note: my first request 🤭🤭🤭 i really leaned into the sub! thing which made the reader more dom by comparison so this was SO much fun to write!!!

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Nicholas sat across from you at your dining table, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that felt both thrilling and a little shy. He tried to play it cool, laughing at your jokes, but you could sense his subtle nervousness. His dark eyes would drift to the side occasionally, or his fingers would tap his glass, and he seemed to hesitate just a fraction of a second whenever you leaned in closer.

This was your fourth date, and you’d decided on a cozy pasta-and-wine night at your place. The warmth of your space—the candlelight, the soft music, the little quirks of your apartment—seemed to relax him, bringing him into your world. After dinner, he offered to do the dishes, and soon after he returned to join you on the couch, where you handed him another drink. He accepted, but barely took a sip, glancing at you as if he was gathering the courage to make a move or perhaps trying to savor the moment in silence.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to him; everything about Nicholas drew you in. His appearance held a fascinating contrast—a rugged confidence softened by boyish charm. His dark eyes were intense yet warm, and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, hinting at something vulnerable beneath his steady exterior. His strong jawline and light stubble gave him an air of maturity, though his laughter, easy and genuine, brought out a playfulness you loved. His tousled hair fell somewhere between dark brown and nearly black, and every time he ran his fingers through it, it gave him that effortlessly handsome look that was impossible to ignore.

Settling in beside him, you let the conversation flow. The natural ease between you felt grounding as if you’d known each other far longer than a handful of dates. Yet with every inch you shifted closer, Nicholas grew visibly tenser. His fingers traced the rim of his glass, his shoulders squared up as though preparing himself for something, and he seemed to hold his breath when you brushed against him. You could tell he was torn, the mix of nerves and anticipation almost palpable. His gaze met yours fleetingly, only to dart away again, his lips parting as if to say something before pressing them together, unsure.

Smiling, you leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss against his neck, feeling the way his breath hitched. Emboldened, you let your fingers rest lightly on his knee, brushing over the fabric of his jeans. He stilled, his gaze shifting back to you, eyes wide and captivated.

"Do I make you nervous, handsome?" you teased, your voice low, just playful enough to draw him out.

Nicholas swallowed, trying to maintain his composure with a smile that didn’t quite hide his vulnerability. "Trying to not be," he murmured, though the faint blush rising on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Trying?” you asked with a laugh, pressing another soft kiss along his neck.

He hesitated, then took a steadying breath, and finally opened up. “I’ve wanted you since our first date,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “On our second date, when you wore that mini skirt, I couldn’t stop thinking about you… but, to be completely honest, I’ve… never been with anyone…sexually.”

You leaned back slightly, surprised but gentle, letting him continue without pressure.

“I thought I’d have more time to prepare,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed. His words began to tumble out a little quicker, the way they did when he was nervous. “There’s this whole idea that guys are supposed to just...know exactly what to do, you know? Like we’re born with some secret guidebook. And it’s not like I haven’t done anything, but I haven’t...gone all the way.” His voice softened, slowing as he looked at you, a vulnerability in his eyes that felt raw and genuine. “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

You watched him, warmth building in your chest. The trust he placed in you felt like a gift, and you found yourself even more drawn to him. With a soft smile, you took his hands in yours, bringing them to your lips and kissing each one. “You talk so fast” you started lightheartedly, to break the tension in the room. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” you said, your tone gentle but reassuring. “If we want, we all have to have a first time, and it only makes sense that yours is with someone you like.”

His expression softened, a grateful smile crossing his lips as he met your gaze.

“If you’re ready,” you continued, voice soft, “I’d love to be your first, and we can go as slow as you need. No pressure.” You placed another kiss on the back of his hand, feeling his fingers tighten around yours as he let out a long, relieved breath.

“And I can even take the lead,” you added, a playful glint in your eyes. “Forget all that stuff about what guys are ‘supposed’ to know. Trust me, you don’t need it. Besides,” you leaned in, your voice dropping to a whisper, you flicked your tongue gently against his ear “I was kind of hoping you’d let me control you just a little”.

Nicholas’s cheeks flushed a deeper red, and he let out a shaky breath, his eyes widening at your words. “O-okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with both excitement and nervousness. His fingers flexed against your waist, clinging to you as if you were his anchor, and he gave a slight, pleading whine, biting his lip and inhaling sharply while you continued to work on his neck.

You shifted closer, removing his shirt to reveal his firm strong chest and perfect body. You straddled his lap, your hands settling on his broad shoulders. His hands rose tentatively, resting at your waist as you leaned in, brushing your lips over his. He let out a soft, needy sound, his grip tightening slightly as if afraid to hold you too firmly. His response was hesitant at first, but as you deepened the kiss, he began to melt into it, a whimper escaping him as he pressed closer, almost desperately. His fingers pressed to your sides, in distress to keep you in your place.

You felt him shift, his grip tightening, as if he were gathering the courage to take a bit more control. Sensing it, you pulled back, just enough to keep him wanting, giving him a teasing smile. “Uh uh baby boy,” you murmured, your voice low and playful, “let me handle it.”

His eyes widened, a flash of that earlier nervousness crossing his face, and he let out a soft, almost frustrated whine. His hands loosened slightly, fingers tracing gently over your waist, his need evident in the way he looked up at you. “Sorry… just, you make it hard,” he whispered, his tone half-apologetic, half-pleading.

“I know,” you matched his pouty tone while caressing his face “but you have to wait, I want you to enjoy yourself. He leaned into your hand with heavy breath, you loved the nervous way his chest rose and fell, he was so desperate and needy for something -- anything in this moment. You started running your thumb over his lips a few times, before parting his lips slightly. You didn’t have to direct him before he you in his mouth.

Of course, that’s what you wanted but his willingness even caught you off guard - not that could show it. He looked up at you, wanting approval. You inhaled through your teeth calling him a good boy. His body responded to the praises, you could feel him grow as you sat on top of him, heat radiating from him.

You leaned in, brushing a slow, teasing kiss along his jaw, feeling his breath catch as you murmured against his skin, “Good. Now, just relax and let me take care of you.”

The soft sounds he made were adorable—small, breathy gasps between kisses, little murmurs when you traced your fingertips down his neck, skimming the sensitive skin just below his ear. The way he reacted to each touch sent a thrill through you, making you want to draw out every reaction, to push him just a bit further, to watch him come undone.

“Can I get a little rough with you baby,” you asked him. His half-lidded eyes fluttered as his body was still riding out the high of you nibbling on his neck. He nodded, cheeks pink, his hands resting lightly on your waist. “Yes, please,” he breathed, voice soft, the need unmistakable in his tone.

Without a second passing, you wrapped one hand around his neck and used the other to balance yourself on his knee. You started to rock rhythmically on his, making sure you made contact with his hardness. He turned into a mess, sweat beads forming on his forehead as he squirmed under you.

“Keep it together for me baby,” you begged him “We haven’t even gotten to the best part.” You teased, he complied letting out more whimpering moans, he was committed to trying. He bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut in a mix of effort and desire, trying desperately to hold himself back. His hands gripped your hips, trembling with restraint as he fought to keep his movements steady, despite the way you rocked against him. Sweat glistened on his skin, his breath ragged and shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though every inch of his body was on the verge of losing control.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice strained, “Don’t stop Y/N.” His words were laced with a mix of desperation and determination, his brows furrowed as he bit back another whimper.

You felt the struggle in his movements, the way he held himself back, the intensity in his gaze, and you couldn't help but smile at his effort. “I know, baby,” you teased softly, your voice dripping with sweetness. “I’m almost there and then I’ll treat you right.”

His hands flexed on your hips, his grip tightening, and you saw him swallow hard like he was fighting an internal battle. He nodded, still trying to keep his composure, but every little sound that escaped his lips and the way his body trembled under you told a different story. He was close, so close, and you knew the hardest part for him was still to come.

You rode out your climax on him, coming undone right on top of him. You took his hand and put it on your panties, letting him feel the wetness he created. “Thank you for being a good boy for me baby, now it’s your turn.” He crashed into your lips fast and hurriedly, he was so excited and just as grateful, immediately pulling away feeling apologetic.

You gave him a smirk and a gentle face tap as you shifted your position, guiding him back until he lay against the arm of the couch, letting yourself settle between his legs. He watched you, his eyes wide with anticipation as you trailed kisses down his neck, along his collarbone, taking your time, savoring every shiver and quiet gasp he let out.

Your body drifted lower until you were on your knees in front of him and his breathing became shallow, every inch of him sensitive to your touch. He whimpered softly when you paused, looking up at him with a teasing smile. You only had to give him a look to instruct him to take off his shorts, he did it with a starving hunger. He was in briefs, glaring at you in anticipation. You teased him, rubbing on his thighs getting closer and closer to him.

“For this, you just have to promise me that no matter what, you’ll wait to cum until I say you can - okay?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur. His eyes filled with worry, he felt like he could finish just by your touch alone.

“Please,” he whispered, “I…don’t know if I…please” There was a desperation in his voice, a need so pure and open that it made your heart race.

“Shhhh,” you put your hand up to his face to calm him “You’re my good boy right?” He nodded his head. “And you want me to take care of you right?” he nodded his head again, “so you can do this for me right?” he nodded again, still nervous but ready to obey.

You took your time, savoring every second as you let the moment unfold slowly. Each touch was deliberate, designed to heighten his anticipation, to make every sensation feel more intense. You hovered just close enough to him, letting the tension build between you, before your fingers traced down his chest, brushing lightly against his skin. His breath hitched, his body rigid with need, and you couldn't help but smile at how easily he was unraveling.

With careful intent, you reached for the waistband of his boxers, your fingers grazing the fabric, teasing the edges. His hips twitched involuntarily as you slowly, agonizingly, pulled them down. The moment he was freed, he sprang up eagerly, his excitement evident in the way he was already so hard, flushed, and dripping with need.

You kissed his red wet tip a few times before taking him into your mouth. A few quick motions on the length of his shaft and he was so beautifully responsive —soft, needy whines escaping his lips, his hands flexing as though he didn’t know where to put them, eventually settling on your shoulders, his fingers gripping you tightly. The way he squirmed, the way his body responded to every touch, every brush of your lips—it was intoxicating, sending a thrill through you like nothing else.

You reveled in the control, savoring the power that came with every move you made. It wasn’t just the way he responded—it was the way his restraint faltered with each touch, every soft press of your lips, every calculated caress. You could feel the tension in his body, muscles taut under your hands, but you remained in charge, guiding him through the moments.

As much as he surrendered to the pleasure, it was something deeper for you. The way his body responded, how he trusted you with his vulnerability—it drove you wild. Each shift in your rhythm, each soft command, had him trembling with need, and you knew you were the key to unlocking every part of him. The power you held over him stirred something inside you, a satisfaction far greater than his pleasure, and it made every moment even more intoxicating.

You were still working on him, giving him praises when you could; “you’re such a good boy”, “you feel so good in my mouth”, “you’re so fucking hot when you moan like that”. Each compliment made him come closer and closer to unraveling. He writhed in pain trying to contain himself.

He responded, “I’m a good boy…I’m your good boy”, he thrusted a few times in your mouth, getting ahead of himself, but you knew what he wanted. You anchored him down on the couch, pressing your hands on his thighs taking him far into your mouth. He whined your name out, truly frazzled. His hair was a mess, he was drenched in sweat, and his lips were swollen from trying to contain his whimpers and moans - you knew he was very close.

“Y/N” he could barely get out between gasps, “I’m sorry but I’m close…so close”, he was pleading with you, “can I please cum…please”.

You kept a steady motion on him, taking his full shaft and using your hands to stroke him too. You acted like you didn’t hear him but he whined out your name again “Y/N please!”

You stopped for a split second to lick from base to the tip, only stopping to ask him “Do you think you deserve to cum baby?”

He threw his head back, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath, unable to form words—only a whiny sound slipping from his throat, thick with need. His body arched toward you, desperate for more. You kept him on edge, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard, quick beat of his heart beneath your touch. Your fingers teased over his pecs, then down to his nipples, pinching them sharply as you maintained a fast, steady rhythm with your mouth, drawing every shudder from him.

He gasped, his body trembling, his grip tightening as he fought to hold back. You could feel him unraveling, inch by inch, his desperate whimpers only fueling your control. Every movement, every touch, was a reminder of just how much you had him—completely in your grasp.

His mouth was stuck open, his eyes were shut tight, and he was seconds from it, he just waited on your command and you gave it, “cum for me beautiful boy” you said quickly going back to your motion. It took him no time to meet your request, shooting a full warm load into your mouth.

He let out moans and groans as he came down, you gave him a few last-minute licks around his tip just to make him squirm. He laughed and writhed in pain, leaning down to kiss you, “You’re amazing” he got out between exhausted breaths.

By the end of it, after you got him a towel to clean himself off and he changed into the clothes he brought for the night he lay sprawled against the couch, you nestled into his side and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice soft, a hint of awe in his tone. He seemed almost at a loss for words, still caught in the afterglow, a mixture of relief and wonder shining in his eyes.

You smiled, brushing a gentle kiss along his jaw. “Anytime,” you whispered back, already looking forward to the next chance you’d have to show him exactly how incredible a first time could be.

[akaruiakiki]

what if instead of red glasses he wears red eyeliner instead

inspired by one of the comments read in this Sweet Shuu vid that I forgot the timestamp of WHERE IS IT HOL ON-: Hatoful Boyfriend | Sweet Shuu: April Fool's '16 (youtube.com)

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can��” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Nanami wants you to ride his face...

It was no secret that Nanami read books. Any kind of book. But sometimes he would read something not so wholesome…

Laying on the futon of his home office, eyes half lidded, glasses sitting low on his nose. As he reads, his mind wanders to you. His cock growing tighter in his pants, thinking about what it would be like to reciprocate these acts in the bedroom with you. One specific part caught his attention though. His hand absentmindedly wanders down to his hard erection, his mind racing with the thought of you sitting on his face.

A soft knock on his door puts him out of his trance. “What would you like for dinner, Ken?” you ask softly from outside the door. Nanami froze. His face reddening as he shuts the book. Not sure if he should be more embarrassed about what he was reading or what he was imagining. He adjusted himself before walking up to the door himself and opening it. He appreciated how you were always respectful of his personal space and knocked.

“Oh, hi honey…” your face brightens as he opens the door. The sight of your smile filled Nanami with love, but it wasn’t helping his erection. He doesn’t say anything besides wrapping his arms around, bringing you into a tight embrace. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you returned the hug. “Someone feels a little clingy today?” you chuckle, running your hands over his back.

Nanami burrows his face into your hair. Inhaling your sweet scent he adored. His fingers run over the natural curves of your body, as he presses gentle kisses to your cheek. “I apologize, I feel… I need you right now.” Nanami murmurs into your ear, his declaration runs a shiver up your body. The way he was leaning onto you caused you to hold onto his shoulders, exposing your neck to him. He wastes no time in attacking it, placing his “needy” kisses on it.

Nanami had many ways he liked to kiss you. You have his sincere kisses when he wants you to know he's there for you and he loves you. Peck on the cheek and hand kisses in public. But your favorite kind he gives you are the ones that always lead to more. Where he becomes a little more flirty, nipping at your skin, digging his teeth in, hands roaming all over your body. Squishing anything he could get his hands on.

It’s not long before you both stumble into the room, not being able to get your hands and mouths of each other, until Nanami breaks the kiss, his expression now restless, with desire behind those honey-brown eyes. “I have a request…” he clears his throat. You smile at the way he breaks eye contact with you because he’s nervous. “What kind of request?’ you bat your eyelashes at him. Nanami swears he could die then and there if he wasn’t already embarrassed enough. He walks over to the bed, awkwardly laying flat on it.

“You want me to ride you?” you laugh at how he just lays down. Nanami shakes his head. “Sit. On my face. Please.” he stutters out, giving you a quick glance before he breaks eye contact again, leaving you speechless, this wasn’t something you had tried out before. The desire in his eyes told you he was desperate for this. He looked like he was on the verge of getting on his knees and begging you. “We haven’t tried that yet…” you smirk at him, leaning closer to him. “Is that a no?” he looks at you again, eyes urging you to give in.

Nanami couldn’t help himself once you were hovering over his face. He takes in your scent, closing his eyes, his nose tickling your entrance. Your breath hitching as you look for something to hold on too, eventually resting your hands on the headboard in front of you. Nanami’s breath catches in his throat, he could not believe it was actually happening. His hands find purchase on your thighs, groping them like his life depended on it.

“Keep your eyes on me Kento…” You coo as you look down at him. He could moan at just the sound of your voice, he couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense as he begins to worship you with his tongue. Savoring the taste of you, hands roaming all over your hips and ass, devouring your cunt desperately.

The moment you think he is finally satisfied, he’s not. Only pulling you down more on his face, sharp eyes still on you just like you told him. He didn’t want to miss anything. Music to his ears the way you say his name like a spell, your victim being him and only him. The way you cried out when he would tease your clit just right. And the way you grind against his face was all he could ever ask for. He could die a happy man right then and there.

“Fuck…” you whine, your hand coming down to grip his hair, only driving him more insane. His grunts grow louder as the pleasure and pain mix together delectably. His tongue lapping you up with a new found energy, with confidence you didn’t know he could possess. Eager to chase your orgasm so you cream all over his face. His own arousal building up every second you're on his face.

"Oh god Kento… i'm so close,” you continue your ministrations on his face. His fingers tightening around your ass. He gazes up at you with the most sexy bedroom eyes filled with adoration and desperation, his just pleading for one chance to watch you fall apart on and all over his face. To make a mess on him. “Go ahead, sweetheart…” he mumbles against your sopping, sensitive cunt.

A cry of ecstasy echoes the room as your orgasm finally takes over your body, holding onto the headboard again to stabilize yourself. The man under you is still lapping up everything you are willing to give him. You continue to grind yourself on his face, riding out your orgasm. Nanami’s eyes rolling back in complete and utter bliss, your slick coating his chin and cheeks. Waves of pleasure run through your body, your only thought being Nanami. The way he looked under you, making you hot all over again. Intimacy so intense you could burst.

Realization hits you after your orgasm, finally deciding to remove yourself from his face so he wouldn’t suffocate. Nanami gasps for air as you lift off him, a small giggle escaping your lips. His chest heaving with the exertion that just happened. His eyes still glazed over with lust, taking in the sight of you.

“So where did you get this idea from?” you tease him, poking his shoulder.

A dorky smile spreads across his perfect face as he climbs on top of you, meeting you face to face.

“I read about it…”

[blockedbykei]

𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

🏐 — tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: tsukishima has always struggled wrapping the stupid bandages on his fingers. the new manager seemed to know how, but his pride was too stuck up for him to ask help. luckily, you knew him too well.

— warnings: swearing, blood

🏐 —

The ball slams onto the squeaky floor, the synthetic leader creasing as it meets the shined court. Tsukishima smirks at his opponents’ quick glance at the rolling ball.

“Was that your best, King?”

“Shut up,” Kageyama sneers. Hinata forbearingly chases after the ball. The blonde smirks, adjusting his glasses.

His legs ache, though he didn't have the care to complain nor request to take a break. Testing his endurance was good—he still had limits to test, he still had so much energy to drain. He wasn't going to waste his time tending for the ache.

Something that he wouldn't mind wasting his time on though, was fixing the bandages around his ring and index finger. They were loosening up, untucked from one another. So he looked at Daichi, motioned to his fingers, and his senior's approving nod permits his body to exit the court and onto the bleachers.

"When was the last time you changed those, bruh?" Tanaka blurts. He rubs his hand on his shaved head, his sweat dripping off his temples. "That shit's dirty."

"Just this morning. I'm not unhygienic." Tsukishima bluntly replies. "It got dirty from the ball. Have you seen that thing? When was the last time you changed those balls?"

Sugawara sits beside him, his towel being patted on his forehead. "Two years ago, probably."

Tsukishima fiddles with the thin straps of his bandages, tucking it underneath the wrapped gauze, but it irritates him when it refuses to stick. So he tries and he tries again; from the court to the bleachers, he thinks. A person could only do so much trying.

"Hey, (l/n)!"

His head snaps towards your direction, seeing you enter with a bag full of refilled water bottles. He'd politely take the bag off your shoulders, showing chivalry to remove the image of his isouciant demeanor. But Daichi had already beaten him, as well as carrying the other two bags brought by Yachi and Shimizu.

His fingers absentmindedly twirl and twirl as he stares from afar. His heart pounds uncremeniously against hist chest, like the sound of continuous free spiking against the court floor. He dislikes the feeling of sudden emotions.

But when you were the end of those emotions, he'd bear his hatred.

And Tsukishima had been staring for too long that he hasn't noticed you approaching him with that kind, everloving smile. He doesn't return it.

"Kei," you softly greet. His first name, never given verbal privilege to say but somehow it just felt right for you to say it. "Struggling with that?"

"Hm? O-oh. Yes," his back straightens, forearm on his knee. You sit down beside him but not beside him. He feels like whining. "Can't get the stupid thing wrapped properly."

"I can help—" you offer.

"I got it," Tsukishima tucks his arm against his chest like it was something you'd steal from him. You laugh through your nose. "Not my first time doing it."

"Just let me help," you wrap your hand on his wrist and yank it towards you, the bandage seamlessly falling off his calloused palm onto your lap. Tsukishima feels heat rising to his ears— feels the obnoxious stares of his teammates smiling teasingly as they bounce the balls from their hands to the floor.

And so your soft fingers caress against his, your thumb in the apex of his palm as you hold his hand firmly. Tsukishima puts the weight of his hand on yours, watching your eyes meticulously follow the movement of your fingers wrapping the dirty bandage around his ring and pinkie finger.

"Your scar looks cool," you say. "Where'd you get that?"

"From, uh, Ushijima's spike during our match against Shiratorizawa." His voice falters with embarrassment. "He was strong. An idiot though," he adds the last remark to aid his ego.

"Wow, Kei complimenting Ushijima."

"Followed by an insult," he looks up at you through his eyelashes and feels like he could collapse on the spot. Suddenly the ache on his legs didn't bother him anymore, like they'd been healed by your essence.

You tuck the bandage in. "He may be strong, but he can't block like you," you take his hand in yours and lightly tap it with the other one before standing up. You pick up a waterbottle from your bag and offer it to him. "Drink up. Can't have you dehydrated."

Tsukishima takes the bottle from you. You smile at him, and the edges of his lips quirk up to give you a half-smile, like some sort of gratitude. And you walk away from him.

He could've done a lot more than just speak like he wasn't thankful for your assistance. Instead he watched you walk away, wistfully.

🏐 —

Stupid fucking fingers.

There's blood dripping on the asphalt ground. Tsukishima hisses, Hinata gasps and covers his mouth.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He had bowed so much his back could break. Tsukishima didn't care, he only wanted to shove his entire fist up Kageyama's laughing ass.

Blocking balls was one thing. Blocking Hinata's spike, however...

"Idiot," he says lowly, though loud enough to enlighten Hinata of his disdain. "Shit, could you be careful next time, Shoyo?"

"What's going on?" You exit the gym, locking it behind you. "Is that blood?"

"Yes! Because this Pipsqueak thought we were on some real match. Spiked it at me when we're only three feet apart!"

"Calm down, Kei."

And then he did. He did calm down. His chest went back to it's steady pace as he clutched his hand, the blood's flow weak. You walk towards him and take his hand in yours, then you drag him to the locker room.

"Please don't tell me your scar opened."

He could laugh at that sentence, then again not everyone knows everything. He shakes his head and rubs his nose. "Just a wound from one of my fingers."

"Okay, sit here." He sits on a chair as you reach for the first aid kit.

Tsukishima likes you.

Straight to the point, he admits it to himself that he likes you, and he's proud of that. He could never admit that to anyone else though. Maybe it's because you were nice, and he couldn't bring himself to be mean to you and if he ever was, you put him in his place. Maybe he likes you because you're beautiful. Not just pretty, but beautiful. And you were skillfull at bandaging his fingers. That hit a special spot in his heart.

You sit on the desk in front of him and he offers his hand willingly, placing it on your thigh. You dabbed the antiseptic covered cotton on his bleeding wound. Tsukishima barely hisses from the pinching pain. Instead, he looks at you from the scratched lens of his glasses.

You look at him, laugh a little, and push his glasses up his nose.

Tsukishima blushes.

"Be careful next time, Kei," you advice, placing the cotton aside and start bandaging up his wound. "You're the smart one in the group. They could all go to shit if you get injured."

"Eh, I have you to heal me," his words slip past his lips before he could think about what he would say. His eyes widen a little. And his blush, could it be from embarrassment as you noticed his reaction, or could it be from the way you smile at him and massage the lines in his palm as a retort.

"You're cute," you raise a brow, tucking the bandage in.

"You wrap my bandages all the time." He puts his hands on his lap. And you still sit there, in front of him, on the desk. "You're my little healer."

"Is "little" an insult or?"

Tsukishima laughs. He laughs. Then he takes your hand and plays with your fingers, his fingertips tracing every ridge, every bump of your hand. You watch him as he does so, feeling yourself smile bigger and bigger at every second.

So he takes that chance to lace your hands together. You both blush, looking away from one another.

"Take it as an insult," he finally says. "Healer? Don't take it as an insult. I'll be calling you that from now on, though."

You roll your eyes, jumping off the desk. "Okay, Kei."

You both leave the locker room, hands still together, and his bandage still intact.

🏐—

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, soft dom nanami, praise, p in v, mdni.

husband nanami was a patient man. he treated you like glass, so delicate—he didn’t want to ever break you. with something as passionate as intimacy though, he made sure to go slow and take his precious time with you. after all, you were his baby. yet, there’d be one time where you ask for him to be a bit more rough. just a little, he playfully raises a eyebrow at you before swiping a thumb underneath your chin. “go r…rougher?” and his words were a mere sweet whisper.

“y- yes, ‘s okay, ‘ken,” you’d nod with a tiny tremor in your voice. as he’s giving you slow, deep strokes, the heel of your foot sensually rubs down against his back. pulling him closer to you, you coat the edge of his twitching pink lips with chaste kisses. “i can handle it, promise.”

“okay, sweetheart,” a soft, genuine smile pulls against the crevices of his mouth before he returns the kissing gesture, a candied mwah. grabbing your knees, he gently moves them up toward your jostling chest. “you’re so perfect,” he groans, hearing each lewd moan elicit out of your throat like it was nothing. “mhm, hold my hand. good girl,” he breathes, his sloppy hits against your core starting to quicken and you bite your lip. in a heaving voice, he buries his face into your neck. a strong musk of cologne wafting against your nostrils. “if you want me to go rougher, i’ll go rougher, my love. just for you.”

his pace was swift and gentle—mahogany colored irises of his continue to pour into your gaze. nanami feels his heart flutter once your arms wrap around him, pulling him close. with a single arm, you drag him further into you, another hand squeezing onto his. masses of fingers intertwine between each other as you moan from his touch. with nanami accelerating in a more quick pace, he presses a kiss against the bridge of your nose.

“t- this . . alright, sweetheart?” he asks in a soothing tone, an eyebrow entwining as he meets your loving stare. god, you were just so beautiful like this underneath him. he could stare at you all day and not get bored of your beauty right in front of him. “not going too hard, am i?”

“yes, ‘s good, baby.” you nod, feeling his grip against your left hand tighten just a bit more.

with a concise sharp piston of his hips, he’s more forward and he sibilates a groaning grunt the second he feels your soddened walls grip against him in such a compressing way. as if you thought you were clingy with nanami—your pussy was even greedier, hugging tightly onto his shaft as if you never wanted to let go. granted, you didn’t.

not now, not ever..

as you depart your fingers from his, you start to feel up against nanami’s bulky arm as he’s repeatedly jerking into you. he’s panting, blond strands of hair run down his face and he has to constantly shift his head back so he can look at you. he relishes in your cute expressions—his favorite part of intimacy was to just stare into those pretty eyes of yours that successfully captured his heart.

you moan again, your hand trailing down against the veins near his arms—he’s so beefy. your fingers then reach near his wrist. clammy digits of yours ghost against the frigid texture of his pricey g-shock that swaddles around his wrist. the watch’s been broken for years, but it was a gift from you so he still proudly wears it. flaunting it with a sweet smile on his face everytime.

“f- fuuuck,” you start to babble, feeling his twitching cock continue to pump you full of staggering inches. your ankles rub all against the outer sides of his back to where it almost tickles him. nanami’s moaning right with you—hot chest pressing up against yours. skin ruthlessly slapping so loud that it’s reverb echoes throughout the entire room. it’s like a song of its own, the bed chimes in to pitch a few notes as well from the constant melodic creaking. “don’t stop, kento. ‘s good, i love you.”

“sweetheart,” he inhales a sharp breath, dimples poking against the corners of his mouth. you’re so whiney, he grips against the fat of your thighs with a single hand before you feel him still bottoming out from the inside. “oh, dear. mhm, you drive me crazy, you know that?” and his voice was lighthearted, he was still moaning himself before he’s still stretching your walls out in the process. as his chest heaves, nanami presses a long, adoring kiss against your lips before he cups your chin. “i love you too. more than you could ever know..”

[pseudowho]

Stoic

When Gojo assumes Nanami Kento's lack of PDA for the reader shows a lack of desire for her, a tipsy Kento is quick to correct him.

Warnings: 18+ drabble, Kento goes on a smutty rant

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

'A quick drink' after work had soon turned into two, three, four. Shoko took full advantage of the rooftop bar's balcony, smoking and idly chatting; Higuruma and Atsuya gossipped and quipped, snorting into their drinks; Satoru observed Kento and you keenly behind his dark lens; you stood, excusing yourself to the bathroom as Kento gave you a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Satoru interrupted loudly when you were gone, his pot boiling over, "I just-- I just don't get it, Nanami." All eyes were on Satoru and Kento now-- Kento, with one thin eyebrow raised in quiet disdain at Satoru, and Satoru, with his elbows planted forward on his knees in challenge.

A few moments of silence. Kento huffed, "Should I be apologising for someth--"

"--you've been together for years," Satoru interrupted, "and I'm just not convinced. She could be-- she could be a coat rack for all the affection you show her, you're supposed to not be able to keep your hands off her--"

"--you want me to grope my fiancée in public, am I correct--"

"--well maybe, anything to show that you love her--"

Kento laughed out loud, deep and humourless, continuing to chuckle into his glass, scoffing to himself; "Love her," he rumbled, swirling his whiskey, amber eyes flickering and carnal in the firelight.

Shoko had turned, smirking, to watch the scene. Atsuya leaned back, scowling, chewing on a toothpick with crossed arms. Hiromi leaned, glimmer-eyed, into the drama, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clasping his wineglass. He picked up the bottle, slowly beginning to pour another glass.

"I don't love her," Kento spat, downing his glass of whiskey in one smooth swallow, hissing and slamming the glass down on the table, "I worship her. I'm obsessed with her."

Satoru was silent, mulish, as Kento continued.

"I would walk through rains of bullets for her," he mused aloud, "I would cut off fingers with blunt knives--"

"Nanami, alright, I'm sorry--"

"Any second I'm not with her," Kento continued, his voice quieter, darker, the group leaning into him, "is a second wasted. I don't know what point there was in the years I spent without her-- probably just there to build me into even a semblance of the man she deserves--"

"--why are we doing this--"

"-- and when I'm not thinking about talking to her, watching her, being near her, holding her, or-- fuck, just having her look at me goes bone-deep...I spend at least eighty-percent of my time thinking about different ways to make her cum--"

Satoru was blushing now, his face in his hands, while the others leaned into Kento's mild breakdown with awe, "--fucking hell Nanami, I didn't mean--"

"I almost died last week, at work," Kento mused, as a laughing Hiromi slid the glass of wine down the table to Kento, which he caught seamlessly, "because I was too busy thinking about how her mouth had felt around my cock the night before, because I was pondering the many applications for my tie, because I was thinking about how incredible she felt underneath me--"

Atsuya and Shoko whispered together, Hiromi now giggling to himself unashamedly; "Oh he's really going for it--" "I know I know, shhh, let him finish--"

"--and I've been sat here with her all evening, resisting the urge to strip her, tie her wrists together and have her ride me until I go fucking blind, all because of social-fucking-propriety, just for some long streak of jizz like you to say I clearly don't love her--"

Satoru had shrunk in on himself now, his soul quietly leaving his body, mortified and put to rights as Kento tsked, swirling his wine before downing that, too. He accepted the bottle Hiromi slid towards him in approval.

"...it really just is rather rude and presumptuous of you, isn't it, Gojo?"

The group sat in stunned silence as you returned, sitting beside Kento and laying a hand on his crossed knees. You felt the bizarre tension; Hiromi unable to conceal a blush as he looked at you, Shoko giving you a knowing smile around her cigarette, Atsuya unable to make eye contact. You smiled uncertainly.

"...what did I miss?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Still waters run deep 💀💀💀

[luveline]

hi!!! i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's injured during a case and reader show up at the hospital because she's his emergency contact but the team is really confused wondering who's this stranger fussing over spencer. hope you like it, love you!

thank you for requesting honey!! love you<3 fem!reader

“Close your eyes,” you command, voice all blown up and grand, already smiling. “Close your eyes, Spencer.” 

“No.” He squints groggily. “What are you doing?” 

“Close your eyes.” 

“No, Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks. 

You shake your spray bottle at him. He sighs a long-suffering sigh and finally admits defeat, his tired eyes shuttering closed all too easily. You rest your knee on the side of his bed and hear the metal squeaking at your added weight, your hand gentle as you cover his forehead. “You have greasy hair,” you say sympathetically. “This is gonna feel much nicer.” 

You blast him with dry shampoo, his brown hair turning white with powder. You drop the can in his lap and set about rubbing the powder into his hair until the grease is soaked up, and his hair feels less miserably lank. 

“When are they gonna let you shower again?” you ask quietly. 

You’re still touching his hair. More for him than you, you hope he feels comforted, but mostly you just wanna affirm to yourself that he’s all in one bruised piece. Your heart still aches as much as it did when you got the phone call in the first place —Spencer Reid’s next of kin? 

You suppose that’s you. 

“I don’t know.” 

You take his hair back into his current parting. “Well, let’s hope it’s soon. How are you liking the sponge baths? Are they awful?” 

“Humiliating.” 

Just outside of Spencer’s hospital room, Hotch and JJ stand together with a bag of essentials. They’d drawn to a sudden stop when they realised Spencer had company. “Who is that?” she asks. 

Hotch, used to knowing everything, frowns very deeply. He doesn’t know who you are, but from the way you’re touching Spencer’s hair and face, he should. 

JJ sounds a little put out. “She doesn’t work here.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Hotch says. His frown lightens as you laugh and scratch Spencer’s hair back behind his ears. 

“Is it unkind of me to think he didn’t have any friends?” JJ asks. 

Hotch knows Spencer has friends. He’s summoned Spencer from chess games and fan clubs, picking him up occasionally on the way to the office on cafe sidewalks as he waved goodbye to a glasses-wearing bibliophile, often in coats too big for them or with hair in need of a trim. Spencer attracts the unconventional because he, as anybody in this line of work tends to be, is inordinary. So JJ probably is being unkind, but Hotch knows what she means. 

You look completely regular. You settle on one thigh on his bed while the other keeps you up and put your hand on his chest, chatting breezy words they can’t hear through the glass.

Spencer curls into you slowly. 

“You’ll be home soon,” you say, rubbing his shoulder, “don’t worry.” 

Hotch’s eyebrows rise of their own accord. He and JJ excuse themselves for coffee before they’re spotted, and when they return, you’re gone. “Spence, who was that girl?” JJ asks. Hotch notes the slightest line of jealousy tugging under her curiosity. 

He sounds as though he could use some more pain medication, and a good night's sleep, but he’s proud as he says, “That’s my roommate. I told you about her.” 

“Ah, your roommate,” Hotch says. 

“What’s that mean?” Spencer asks. 

“Nothing, Spencer,” Hotch says, using the young man’s first name in a rare show of affection. “That’s just an irregular word for it. I haven’t heard it in a while.” 

JJ laughs. Spencer hides his face with both hands, a smudge of lip balm on his hand shining under the stark hospital fluorescents. “I’m too tired,” he complains. 

Hotch hadn’t seen you kiss him, but he can imagine how it might have happened, how you’d leaned in for a kiss on the cheek goodbye and Spencer overwhelmed himself thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just an innocuous smudge. Maybe it’s nothing at all. 

“We live together,” Spencer mumbles. “I couldn’t afford to live by myself at first, it’s D.C.” 

“And now?” Hotch asks. He knows Spencer is on good enough money to afford an apartment by himself these days, a big one. He has no dependents. 

“Didn’t seem fair… She’s nice. She’s, like, my best friend.” 

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” JJ laughs. 

Hotch isn’t sure she gets it, but he does. “Well, you can ask her to come back. We have work to do.” 

Spencer pretends he’s hesitant to pick up the phone. Your reply is an immediate beep. Hotch knows a good friend when he sees one. 

[gurugirl]

Truth or Dare | slumber party!h

Summary: Y/n's coworker, Harry, has never been to a slumber party so she decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

A/N: Based off this request. Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6,752

Warning: smut

. . .

By her third glass of chardonnay, her stomach was feeling the acid from the wine but she was having such a good time talking to Harry from the operations department that she didn’t care. She’d have another before calling it a night. Just one more glass so she could sit with him a little longer and listen to him talk and watch as he ran his finger along the edge of his pint glass.

He was probably looking at her like he was because he was also three pints of lager in and he was kind so he was holding eye contact to be polite. Certainly, it wasn’t because he found her attractive (though she’d have welcomed that).

The company’s management meeting was long over and everyone else had gone home but Harry and Y/n stayed for another round. They rarely ever got to talk at the office. She’d always wanted to pick his brain about why he decided to move to the US and how, of all companies, he chose to work at Dunn Services.

Y/n laughed on cue as he mentioned something from his childhood with his sister having her friends over to stay the night. He grinned, a healthy row of teeth aimed at her before he looked down and laughed at himself, “In truth? I never did have a sleepover or anything like that.”

“Really? Surely you had friends…”

Harry nodded, “Oh yeah I had a lot of friends. But I never stayed over at anyone’s and they never came over to mine either. Just… I don’t know. Never happened.”

Placing her nearly empty glass down she turned and waved with a smile as the waitress walked by, “Can we get another round, please?”

“How are you getting home?” Harry asked when she faced him, crossing her leg over her knee toward him.

“Taxi. You?”

“Might walk. I’m not far from here.”

Nodding she placed her elbows on the table, “So, I think that you’ve missed out on an integral right of passage, having never had a slumber party. You should definitely remedy that at some point. I highly recommend a fun sleepover. In fact, if you need pointers on what to do during a sleepover, I’m your gal.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your go-to during a slumber party?” Harry teased before taking another sip of his beer.

“Well, I think there are like two main components. The first is entertainment and I’m always keen on a good movie, or a dumb one, either way… a movie for sure if I’m picking. Some people like to play board games or whatever, but I like to stuff myself into a pile of blankets and pillows and just lie, or drape,” she spoke using her arms to demonstrate herself draping into pillows. “Occasionally, if the mood is right, I’ll enjoy a little truth or dare.”

“Got it. A movie and maybe if the mood is right, truth or dare. And what’s the second component.”

Y/n crossed her fingers together and raised her brows as if she were about to say something very important, “Snacks. Beverages. Good ones. Usually just small bites but here’s my list…” She cleared her throat, “Buttered popcorn, and possibly potato chips. Definitely something chocolatey, and maybe something like a cookie or a snack cake. If not potato chips then tortilla chips and if it’s tortilla chips, salsa should also definitely be on the menu.”

Harry held back the laugh in his throat as he nodded, “Wow. Okay. What about like a burger or Chinese food? Would that be allowed?”

Y/n shrugged, “It’s your party. You can do what you want. I’m just telling you what I’d do and what would be a hit with your sleepover buddy.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. Y/n could tell he was getting bashful. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. She watched him for a few seconds before the waitress returned with their drinks.

A quick gulp of wine and she nudged at his shin with her shoe, “You wanna have a slumber party with me?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, “What? You mean… Seriously?”

She shrugged, “Why not? Then next time someone asks if you’ve ever had a proper slumber party you can say that you have.”

He laughed loudly, his husky voice was like music to her ears. Pointing at her with his finger he grinned, “Now how I can argue with that? I mean,” he shook his head, a glint in his eye, “Every time someone asks me if I’ve been to a slumber party and I tell them I haven’t, it’s such a disappointment! The look on their faces when they realize my whole childhood was a sham…”

They both laughed, leaning in toward one another, tittering toward the edges of their stools.

Harry tilted his head, “Actually I think it sounds fun. You just name the day and I’ll be there.”

Y/n smiled at him. She knew it was crazy. Having a grown man at her place for a slumber party. Typically adults didn’t have those kinds of sleepovers – it was usually with the intent of something far more salacious. But she’d show him a good time, she thought, raising her glass toward his, “Deal.”

.                 .                 .

Y/n had her sofa bed pulled out and piled high with extra blankets and pillows. She had all her favorite snacks plus she ordered cheeseburgers and fries for the guest of the night. It was silly. Truly she hadn’t had a real slumber party in ages, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of excitement that she’d be hanging out with Harry all night. It was possible that her small crush on him was making her feel all giddy but she’d push down that feeling until he gave her any extenuating signals.

Because the truth was that they were both single, young adults and this was such an unlikely scenario. No one would look at this and say Oh how cute of these two grown adults hanging out in bed together for a sleepover. So innocent! No, she knew better. While maybe nothing would actually happen it certainly wouldn’t look innocent.

And of course, she did pick out the perfect pijama set. Something a little more flattering on her body but not too hey I really need to get laid tonight. It was a happy compromise. Cotton shorts and a button-up, matching short-sleeved top. This was just supposed to be a slumber party after all.

Right?

Besides, the little paper invitation she gave him on Monday morning told him to arrive in his sleepwear so she had to look the part. And not to toot her own horn but she made a very cute invitation just for him tucked into a pink envelope with a separate little response card that had space at the bottom for him to mark yes or no if he could come. It was a yes. Obviously.

When Harry finally arrived he was wearing a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. And for some fucking bizarre reason he looked so much hotter than he did when he wore his well-fitted suits at work.

Because goddamn did his shirt somehow just hug his torso in all the right spots and it allowed her to take a good look at all tattoos on his arms that were normally hidden under brushed wool jackets or long-sleeved button-up shirts. She knew he had tattoos. She’d seen him roll up his sleeves a couple of times but she never wanted to be rude and stare for long.

And then the sweatpants, while loose in the legs, fit his waist and hips and…

“You okay?” Harry was still standing in the doorway with his backpack draped over his arm waiting to be invited in.

“Yeah, sorry. Not used to seeing you dressed down like this. Almost unrecognizable.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as Y/n stepped aside to let him in, “Would you like to see my ID? Swear I’m the Harry Styles, the guy you invited over for chips, popcorn, and truth or dare. I’ve even got your invite somewhere in my bag…”

She breathed a laugh through her nose and watched him enter into her space, “Movies too. Oh, and I also ordered cheeseburgers. Remembered that you mentioned that.”

He seemed quite pleased with the burgers as she handed him the bag. She got those small ones, five to an order, “Thanks. Fries too, huh?” He reached into the bag and pulled out three crinkle-cut french fries then stuffed them into his mouth.

“So should we settle in and pick out a movie?” She gestured toward her couch.

Harry had seen the pull-out couch with heaps of pillows and blankets when he walked in. He knew that that would be where they’d be spending most of the evening. It was the glaring thing about the whole slumber party slash sleepover. That they’d be probably sleeping next to one another. As two young, healthy, attractive adults.

“Sure,” he nodded and waited for her to pick which side she was going to take before climbing in next to her, the thin mattress and metal frame giving way gently under his weight before he leaned back against a mountain of pillows, bag of burgers safe in his hands.

Y/n had a few video streaming services at the ready and they settled on a cheesy comedy from the late 90s before Y/n reached over to her coffee table and then lined up all the snacks between them.

They chatted a little, having both seen the movie already. Topics were anything from what their plans were for the rest of the weekend to what they’d eaten for lunch at work. And it was only a little awkward when they both reached into the bowl of M&M’s at the same time, fingers brushing together.

Harry moved his hand away, “Sorry. You go…”

Y/n grinned at him, scooping a handful of candy into her palm, and then sat up, adjusting her seating as she crossed her legs together, “Wanna do truth or dare? Pretend like we’re 15 again having a sleepover. Really get into the whole slumber party vibe, ya know?”

Harry dug out a few M&M’s and let out a chesty laugh, “If I’m 15 again we’re in big trouble.”

Y/n snorted a laugh, “Why? What do you mean?”

He shook his head, a wide grin on his face with deep set dimples carved into each cheek as he turned his head to look at her, “If this were happening when I was 15 I’d already be in the bathroom hyperventilating and probably trying to will away a boner after our hands touched in the M&M’s bowl.”

Y/n guffawed and threw her head back, nearly choking on her bite of chocolatey candies as Harry laughed with her. Honestly, it was the best icebreaker she could have asked for. Things had been kind of clunky between them up until that moment as they were still trying to navigate how to act around one another. And she knew he was teasing but the good belly laugh that she got from Harry’s story was exactly what they needed.

“Okay fine. We’ll just keep going about it as adults then. No fifteen-year-olds here tonight,” Y/n chuckled as she shoveled a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

Y/n kept her eyes on him as she chewed her mouthful, “So truth or dare?”

Harry cocked his head at her, “So the mood is right then? For truth or dare?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, “The mood?”

“Yeah. You said it over drinks. Remember when you were telling me what the most important components are to a sleepover and you said you liked truth or dare if the mood was right.”

Nodding slowly, she thought back to what she’d said, “Yeah. I guess I did say that. And I mean… I think the mood’s right for a little truth or dare. Movie’s almost over and you just pretty much kicked us off with that truth.” A breathy laugh was pushed from her mouth.

She could tell Harry was mulling on another question as he bit the inside of his cheek, head tilting in agreement, “So that means it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Biting her lip as she pondered, she pressed her back into the soft pillows behind her, “Truth.”

Harry shifted to his side, long legs stretching the length of the mattress as he propped his head up in his hand, a pillow under his arm, “Have you ever kissed a co-worker before?”

Scoffing Y/n moved to her side, mimicking Harry’s position on her side, “No,” she grinned. It was true. She’d never once done anything with any of her coworkers. Having Harry over at her house was the closest she’d ever gotten to doing anything like that. “Now you. Truth or dare?”

His green eyes slid over her features, “Truth.”

She laughed to herself, trying to think of something funny, “How many stuffed animals do you own?”

Licking his lips he nodded, “Think maybe two? Gifts from my niece… Truth or dare?”

“Mmm… dare,” she giggled.

Harry lifted a brow, “Ahhh… feeling bold yeah? Okay… hmm…” He pursed his lips to the side as he considered the dare. “Read to me the last text you sent to anyone. And you have to show me to prove it was the last one. And it can’t be any texts you and me, cause that’s not fair.”

Y/n blinked. She wasn’t exactly sure what her last text was besides Harry. But she was slightly worried because if it was what she was thinking… lifting up her message app she scrolled down to the text thread below Harry’s and it was a text with her sister. Which was what she had been worried about. She gulped, hoping that the things she said about her “coworker” who was coming to stay with her weren’t the last things she and her sister texted about.

Puffing out a breath she covered up all the previous texts to show Harry the last text from her sister – God knows you need it. Sending you good vibes, sis ;)

Harry squinted as he looked at the message and pointed, “That’s to you. The dare was to show me the last text you sent to someone. Let’s see it…”

Feeling her neck heat up she angled the phone away from him and read what she’d sent her sister. And there was no mention of Harry but if he were even halfway decent at picking up clues he might be able to figure out what was being discussed prior.

She shook her head and looked up at him. She couldn’t believe she was about to show him what was on her screen. But a dare was a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

lol I doubt anything will happen but I wouldn’t turn him down. Got condoms just in case 😜 send all your good vibes my way

Harry’s brows squished together as he looked at the text and back to Y/n and then down again at the words on her screen. She saw his throat bob and she knew the look on his face. He fucking knew what that was. He had to know.

She had to look away. She pulled the phone down and killed the screen. The awkwardness between them thick and uncomfortable as she peeked back at him. The edge of his mouth was pulled upward in a smirk, “That’s to your sister?”

Nodding she blew out an exasperated breath, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry grinned as he positioned his knee closer to Y/n, his eyes still on hers, “Dare.”

Swallowing her embarrassment down the best she could she decided to ask him the same, “Now show me the last text you sent anyone besides me.”

Harry’s smartass grin told her all she needed to know. That his last text probably wasn’t nearly as risqué as hers.

And it wasn’t. Not even close.

You can have two pounds for free. I’ve got so many growing I can’t keep up. As long as you come to pick them up on Monday they’re yours.

“I have a bunch of zucchini growing in my garden,” Harry pulled the phone away and laid it down next to his hip. “Got a neighbor who wants some.”

Of course, his last text to anyone was about zucchini. Jesus, she was so far out of her depth.

He was still wearing that shit-eating grin as he said, “Truth or dare, Y/n?”

And the way he said her name, all slow and sexy-like had her insides heating up. Well, maybe she made up the sexy part but he was definitely teasing her. She could just feel it.

“Truth.”

She was sure she’d regret that. Truth or dare. It didn’t matter. She was still reeling from showing him her texts.

“Was that text about me?” Shit-eating grin in place as he asked. Fucker.

Y/n’s eyes grew wide dropping her mouth open in surprise. Of course, he was going to ask that. Of course!

“Oh come on, Harry…” she pleaded.

He lifted his brows and awarded her a larger grin with those cute indents scoring into his cheeks, “Them’s the rules, baby. You chose truth and now you have to be honest.”

Clearing her throat she sat up to her bottom and leaned forward so she didn’t have to look at him as she put her head in her hands and laughed in disbelief, “Jesus. Seriously?”

“Yep. Spill. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. It was about you.”

Keeping her eyes on her lap she waited for a smug remark. Some kind of teasing reply but it was quiet. Slowly she turned to look back at him and he was still lying on his side, head in his palm as he watched her, his eyes fixed to hers.

She shrugged, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at her before cocking his head, “Hold on… Really? That was about me?”

Sighing she rolled her eyes, “Yes. Sorry. I was… it was just funny… it was me joking around with my sister is all.”

He blinked and looked down at the space between them as he nodded, “Okay. I see. So you didn’t actually mean it?”

“Well… I guess… We were joking. Obviously, nothing has to happen. I would never expect that. I…” she breathed out exasperated.

“Obviously nothing has to happen. Did you want it to happen?” His pupils were pinned to hers again.

Opening her mouth she stopped herself for a moment. She knew her answer was yes but she didn’t want to come off like a creep. She hadn’t expected it and assumed it wouldn’t. But the truth remained; she hoped it would happen.

Deflating her posture she laid back to her side to face Harry, tucking a pillow into her chest, “The truth is that I think you’re attractive and I haven’t been with anyone in kind of a long time and… she knows that, my sister. So we were just… it was lighthearted but yeah I mean… without any expectations, cause I would never… I hope you know that. But I did think it would be nice.”

“Nice. Yeah. I agree. It would be nice. And just so you know,” he swung his head to look over his shoulder before looking back at her, “I brought condoms as well. You know… just in case.”

She was a bit stunned at that. Was he…

“Dare me to kiss you,” he grinned, irises dropping to her lips for a second before looking back into her eyes.

She laughed, “That’s not how the game works. The rules are you can’t–”

“Fuck the rules. Dare me to kiss you.”

Shaking her head with a wide smile stretched across her face she felt like her skin was pricking as her heartbeat picked up. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Looking back into his eyes she inhaled deeply, “Fine. I dare you to kiss me.”

Harry’s smirk was unreal. The way he dragged his gaze over her face and down to her mouth was almost lewd, “Didn’t need to play truth or dare to get me to kiss you, Y/n,” he scooted in, grabbing the pillow she had tucked into her chest and tossing it away before he drew a hand up to her face, “You just needed to ask.”

She held her breath as he closed in slowly until it was as if all the tension in the room had popped and fizzled when his lips met hers.

He was so soft and gentle. Lips winding easily, carefully at first. And then she parted her lips more, kissing him back and letting her mouth press into his bottom lip before their tongues were meshed.

She moved her knee out to stabilize herself and knocked over the bowl of popcorn between them. Laughing into his mouth she gasped as she parted from him but he only reached for her again, placing his palm at the back of her head to pull her mouth back against his with a grunt from his chest as he pushed the bowl away and drove his arm underneath her side to keep her from getting too far.

Harry was softly moaning as his tongue worked its way into her mouth gently. It was clear he’d wanted to kiss her. That he liked it. And that notion made her head spin combined with the feel of his thumb traveling over her jaw. There was not going to be any stopping the momentum that had begun.

Well, except for when the bowl of M&M’s poured out against her leg. She had to push at him. As much as she would have loved to have kept making out, she would not have been able to enjoy melted chocolate on her legs or the bedsheets tucked around the mattress (think of the scrubbing she’d need to do!).

“Sorry,” she panted and looked down at the smashed pieces of popcorn and the chocolate candies strewn between them, “I’ve gotta pick this up. Our body heat will melt all these and it’s gonna be a big mess.”

Harry grinned, “Why don’t we just move this party to your bed for a little bit? Clean up later? The M&M’s won’t melt if we’re not laying on them.”

She laughed, already feeling overwhelmed and overheated from the kiss and now he was suggesting taking it to her bed? This was really happening, wasn’t it? She nodded and they both moved off the sofa sleeper to their feet, Harry following behind Y/n as she led him to her bedroom.

She already had her bedside lamp on. Bed made perfectly, everything tucked in and neat.

She turned to look at him and he stepped against her, palm splaying at her low back, “I dare you to get onto your bed and take your clothes off.”

A small laugh burst from her chest, “Oh, so now we’re just doing dares?”

He nodded, “Making up our own rules for this game. S’more fun this way.”

Letting go of her he watched as she stepped backward toward her bed and began to unbutton her nightshirt until it was shed from her body before she pushed her shorts down her legs. She was left in a pretty white bralette (something soft for bedtime) that stretched around her breasts and a pair of thin cotton panties that matched. She kneed up onto her bed and let her feet dangle off the edge and pointed, “Now I dare you to take off your clothes.”

He peeled his white t-shirt off, his hair mussing in the process. She watched with her lips parted at the gorgeous man stripping before her. Not only was he built exactly like what she dreamed of (tattoos, beefy, muscular, a touch soft, very masculine) but the boner tenting his sweats was hard not to home in on.

Harry stuck his fingers into the waistband and looked up at her, “M’not wearing any underwear, so be warned…”

She swallowed as the material lowered, belly button, happy trail, a bit of dark hair and then he pulled the stretchy waistband away from his body so his cock could push free and she was already clenching at just the sight as he removed his sweatpants, cock full and heavy between his strong thighs.

Jesus Christ.

Harry stepped forward, nudging himself between her knees and she leaned back to look up at him, “I dare you to take off the rest of this. Since I’m completely naked feels only fair.”

She bit her lip and looked down at his girthy dick. He was clearly not shy of his body, standing there like that, cock right in front of her. But why should he be shy when he looked like that?

Scooting back further into the bed she got up to her knees and pulled the bralette off first, feeling the heat of his gaze on her tits as she then slid her panties down her thighs. She wasn’t nearly as confident as Harry was as she quickly pulled at her top blanket and covered herself with a small laugh.

Harry stepped forward, one knee on the mattress before climbing in next to her, nosing at her cheek softly before his lips were connected to hers again. And she melted into him just like before. His mouth was magic or something because before she realized it, he’d pulled the blankets off her body and he had a big palm sliding up her thigh and over her hip, “Don’t cover up. So pretty. Knew you would be.”

She pushed her fingers into his thick wavey hair and felt her side hit the mattress as Harry pulled at her again, mouth still smeared against hers. He grabbed at her thigh, hitching it over his hip as he tucked in closer and it was warm and she could feel it. Feel him against her hip.

His giant hand smoothed against her bottom and up her spine until he was wrapping his long fingers around the back of her neck. Y/n nudged in closer, driving her hips forward until she was practically straddling him. So Harry took that as his cue to move to his back, taking her hips in his hands so she’d follow with him.

It had caught her off guard, the sudden change in position but her lips never stopped moving with his. Their kisses were wet and she could smell their saliva, and a touch of onion even from the burgers he’d eaten.

He guided her hips down, his thick cock hot under her thigh until she felt her pussy drag against warm skin at the base of his dick. A small gasp escaped her mouth as he pulled her up, letting her pussy glide up his length, “So wet already, Y/n…”

She was. It was embarrassing. Every inch of his shaft her pussy dragged against, coated him, wetted his skin. He kept pushing and pulling at her hips, using her slippery pussy like a soft wet toy he could run up and down his length.

Then she felt his fingers move around to her backside, digits sliding against her pussy as he licked into her mouth.

Gently she rolled against him and when she moved herself further down he pushed a fingertip inside, “Go on. Fuck yourself on my finger a little bit,” he whispered against her mouth.

He was filthy. She had no idea. He’d always been so sweet at work. So polite and respectful. But here he was reaching around her ass to get a finger inside of her cunt as she rubbed her pussy over his cock.

She panted into his mouth as she slid down around his finger, her clit smushed into his dick, slippery as she rolled up and down. But then he began to assist as he added another finger and began to fuck into her pussy, letting his digits curve into her the best he could from his angle. Slushy wet, she stopped moving her hips and parted from the kiss as she looked down at him. She could tell she was gushing all over his palm and probably his dick as she moaned.

“S’that feel good. You’re gettin’ my fingers all wet like it feels good.”

Nodding she gasped, “Yeah. Feels so good…”

Harry rutted up against her, his cock still pressed into her clit, and she panted, eyes still searing into his. She didn’t want to look away. She almost couldn’t believe he was in her bed fingering her like that.

“Your turn to dare me to do something. What do you want, Y/n?”

She moaned and closed her eyes. She was certain of what she wanted as she listened to the way his fingers gushed with each plunge into her.

“Fuck… dare you to… put on a condom.”

She popped her eyes open to peer down at him as he slid his fingers out of her, wiping her arousal on her ass, “They right here?” He moved his hand toward her bedside table, a knuckle tapping at the wood.

Climbing off of him she opened the drawer, “Yeah, a whole box. Hold on…”

Reaching over to pull out the condoms she felt Harry’s hands on her hips as he moved to sit up, then his lips were on her back, dotting warm kisses to her shoulder blades as she finally plucked a condom from the fresh box.

She watched him put the condom on and as expected, it didn’t cover his entire length. He was kind of a big guy. Well, maybe there was no kind of about it. Before today she had no idea he was packing like that. Though he always did come off as very confident and sure of himself.

She bit her lip as she watched him toss the wrapper away and then he kneed up to her, arm sliding to her back and carefully lowering her to the bed before spreading her legs apart as he fit himself there, sturdy thighs pushing against her soft ones.

“Gonna tell your sister her good vibes worked?” He smirked down at her, hands scouring her hips and tummy and then kneading softly at her tits.

Y/n laughed and reached a hand down to his knee before he pulled at her, making her thighs drape over his as he inched in closer.

“Hmm?” He was awfully teasing, she thought, grinning at her waiting for an answer.

“Probably,” she spit out in a laugh.  

Harry gripped at her thighs, lifting her a bit more to fit her bum over his bent knees and she wanted to scream in embarrassment when she realized he was inspecting her sodden vulva. She’d gotten herself all tidied up for him, should anything like this happen, so at least she had that going for her.

He smoothed his thumb through her pussylips, spreading them apart, and softly blew out a breath, “That is very pretty. Think we get him in there?”

She rolled her eyes as she watched him wrap his palm around his base and lay his fat cock over her mons, the condomed-tip reaching to her belly button, maybe further past, “Well, it’s made for it, so I’m pretty sure–”

“What… your pussy’s made to fit around my cock?” A cocky dimpled smirk gave way to a laugh.

“You know what I meant. It’s meant to… like…” she breathed out a laugh.

“Oh, I know… just fucking with you, Y/n.”

He gazed at her as he reared back, painting his cockhead through her labia, up and down, a soft bump into her clit before he repeated, spreading her soft lips apart as he watched the way his crown smeared her arousal between her creases.

When she moaned and wiggled her hips he pointed himself right at her little muscle, nudging softly forward, opening it up for himself. And she felt that first push, the way his tip fit into her, spreading apart and then stretching to accommodate his circumference.

“Oh god…” she breathed as he slipped in halfway and then pulled back.

“Almost there,” he panted as he kept his eyes on where they were connected, pushing and pulling back until she was swallowing him whole, his cock enveloped in her soft, warm pussy.

When he’d buried in whole, he moaned and watched her face twist up in ecstasy. Her lips were dropped open and her neck stretched long as she grasped onto the forearm of the hand he had gripping her waist.

Slowly he began to thrust, viscous liquid seeping from her pussy and sticking to his shaft. It was filthy. She was so wet that every time he bottomed out there was a splat and a plap sounding between them.

She let out a deep moan and her lips curled up, humid breath escaping her mouth as she felt him driving into her guts. He was taking it easy. Languidly fucking into her with wet claps every time he plunged in.

When her cunt was taking him easier and she was dripping down to her ass he moved in a little harder, faster. Angling himself over her, a palm down on the mattress so he could work into her with more gusto.

“Ah! Harry…” she squeaked at the stronger thrusts and clung onto his lats. He was panting, lips parted and pink, a curl falling over his forehead as he plowed into her splooshing pussy.

“Fuck you’re wet. Pussy is gushing, Y/n…”

Her brows pushed together as she gasped, her body knocked upward every time his hips met hers making her tits bounce. Harry didn’t know where to keep his focus. He loved watching his cock disappear into her hole but he kind of liked being right over her so he could see her face crinkle up every time he bottomed out and then her pretty breasts sway up and down. Or maybe he’d like to fuck her from behind, watch her ass jiggle as he pounded into her.

“Mmm… fuck that’s big!”

Harry groaned, “Yeah? Sure know how to sweet talk a man don’t you, pretty? S’hurt?”

She watched his face, a lusty grin, droopy eyelids as he continued muscling his way in deep.

She hissed when he bucked in, as if he was showing off just how deep he could push in and she coughed out, “Mmm… a little!”

Harry was going to lose his mind with her if she kept squeaking out moans and splatting around his cock like she was but he would be a gentleman and pull back a touch. Slowing down a little he sat up and moved his hand between them, smushing his thumb into her clit, which was so sticky wet even that swished and slid under the pad of his digit.

“Yessss…” she breathed out before murmuring on about how good it felt. “Oh fuck, that’s it. Oh god… please don’t stop… Harry, fuck, yes…”

The clit. The magical little nob that worked wonders as long as the man knew where to find it. Clearly, Harry knew right where it was. Knew how to circle over it, pressing against it just right. Knew how to fuck into her as well. Sliding his length through her vaginal walls, spreading her open, and grazing against her gummy little spot on the inside that had her buzzing and liquifying for him.

He watched her whine and squirm under him, loving how she was so into it. God that was an ego boost, “Like that, Y/n? Gonna come for me? Yeah?”

Her ears were already ringing when she lost herself, gripping around him and crying out as her orgasm washed through her tummy. Harry’s cock made her feel so full, so incredibly stuffed to the brim that it weighed her down and she could hardly move as he bulldozed into her, the pad of his thick thumb smushing fast circles over her throbbing nub.

Fucking her through it he gasped at how she spasmed and milked around him, her pussy trying to siphon his come right through his condom. But Harry wouldn’t come just yet. He had something to prove. Wanted to make a show of his prowess and give her something to tell her sister about.

So when she was finally calmed and her pussy wasn’t clamping around him like a vice grip he slid his hand under her head and kissed her gently, speaking low and soft against her lips, “Gonna have you flip over, okay? Just need a little more yeah?”

When he parted from the kiss she blinked up at him, fluttering lashes and out of breath, “You didn’t come?”

He shook his head, pulling himself out, gently before he placed his hands on her hips, “Not yet. I will soon, though. M’right on the edge. Won’t take me long.”

She rolled to her side as he lifted her hips and helped her get to her tummy. She felt his hands on her ass, squeezing and rubbing each meaty globe in his big palms. Then he was straddling her thighs as he spread her gently and she felt him push his thick tip back into her pussy, sharp and hot. It was tighter, felt a lot fuller like that as he began driving in deep and then pulling out to his tip, before plowing back into the hilt.

His moans grew louder and, even he could admit, sounded quite whiny, pathetic. He was shaking as he watched his dick spread her in half, her soft ass jiggling as he smacked into her, skin patting, his cock leaking precum steadily into his condom.

He hissed when it felt too good. His balls squeezing and his fat dick throbbing inside of her. He thrusted forward, landing a palm down next to her shoulder, his chest pressed into her back as he rutted himself in, tucking his cock through her insides and puffed out a hot groan into her ear, “Fuck you feel good. Gonna make me come, baby…”

She moaned and nodded, “Come for me, Harry…”

He might have held out for another thirty seconds, possibly a minute longer but her breathy words, all sultry and pleading had him pumping into his condom in an instant. He gargled on a moan and squeezed his eyes closed as he buried in and stilled his hips, ass flexing so he could push in further if it were possible.

Y/n felt him crushing her back as he collapsed over her, panted breaths in her ear, cock still throbbing in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She didn’t mind it. Liked his weight on her like that. Enjoyed the way he seemed just as fucked out as she was. She could even feel his heart pounding in his chest against her back.

With a moan, she turned her head and nuzzled her face into her blanket with her eyes closed. She’d fall asleep that way if he couldn’t get up. It was quite warm and comforting. Like a weighted blanket draped over her body. And maybe she did doze off for a bit because when she opened her eyes she felt him moving off of her before he crashed down next to her, the springs in her mattress bouncing under him.

Pushing herself to lie on her side she ran a hand over his chest and he turned to look at her, a dopey smile on his flushed face, “So this is what happens at slumber parties, huh? I’ve really missed out all these years.”

She giggled and nodded into her pillow, “Yep. They’re just like big orgies really. Normally there are more than just two people. It’s how I lost my virginity.”

Harry sputtered a laugh, “Really?”

Y/n couldn’t help but to cackle loudly and roll to her back, the biggest grin on her face, “No, silly. I was teasing.”

He slid a hand over her tummy, “So this isn’t what happens at slumber parties, then?” She could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, “Well, not usually. But I think we made our own rules for this one today.”

“Yeah? Well, I have to give it to you. You throw a hell of a party. I’m certain this is gonna go down as the best sleepover in history.”

. . .

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran   @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @damnasstyles @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus

@itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs

@lc-fics @mema10 @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut

@elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @tiredinwinter

@princessaxoxo @angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo

@brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh @golfrry @caynonmoondreams @danaehldy

@mellamolayla @ladscarlett @heartateasee @littlenatilda @virgopr1ncess

@finelinepie @michellekstyles @harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994

@devilsqueen722 @bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @freedomfireflies

[cherubfae]

Hi 👋

I'm loving your work so far and had to follow for more!

I was wondering, if you're not busy, if you could do the scenario when the reader tells them i can hold the whole world in my hands and the other looks confused and the reader holds their face in their hands with the hazbin crew + striker and how'd they react to it?

If not, it's totally cool. I look forward to what you put out next! 😊

"𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔴𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡" || {𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢}

"I can hold the entire world in my hands. Wanna see?"

tags: gn!afab! reader// gn!ftm! for angel, fluff, cuteness, established relationships

Alastor

A crackle of radio feedback as his eye twitches when you reach for him, calms for a second when you cup his face. His clawed hands rest on top of yours. He's rather confused, how is this holding the--

"You're my whole world, Alastor~!" You grin up at him, lovingly.

The facade of a smile he always wears slips for only a second. But it's one second too long and you catch it. His eyebrows relax, lids drooping, cheeks pushing upwards and he beams at you softly. A genuine smile crossing his lips. He cups your face in return, puffing your cheeks like a fish and a muffled laugh track plays. Leaning his forehead against yours, he grins.

Softly, he whispers, "And you are mine, mon cour."

Lucifer

Immediately his eyes well up. He doesn't have the need to act all cool and collected when he's a total softie. He leans his cheek further into your palm, his eyelids fluttering shut allowing for a moment of respite. Tilting your chin upwards, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss.

"I love you more than anything. You are my life, sweetling, my galaxy. I would dismantle Heaven, Earth, and all of Hell to keep you and Charlie safe."

Charlie

The meeting with Heaven hadn't gone to plan and now, she's curled up like a little blanket burrito in her crimson comforter. She doesn't say anything when you announce that you can hold the whole world in your hands, but she's definitely curious in the way she immediately watches you with interest. She's confused when you cup her cheeks but soon gasps loudly in realization, eyes welling up. You always know just what to say when she's feeling blue.

"M-me? I'm your whole world? But you're my whole world, too!" Charlie grunts, breaking free of her blanket cocoon to cup your face in return. "Look! Now I can hold the world too~!"

Vaggie

She expected your reaction to be much worse. Vaggie finally admitted, albeit she was forced to tell, that she had been an angel this entire time. You hadn't been sure how to react and it was clear you were hurt by her secret and she respected that you needed time to process all of this new information. What she hadn't expected was you approaching her a few hours later, gently cupping her face and telling her that she was your entire world.

A valve breaks loose and Vaggie begins to cry. She wanted to tell you for so long! She really, really did, but she didn't know how! You hold her close, slipping down onto the floor with her letting her cry on your shoulder.

"I didn't want to keep this part of me a secret, but there was so much risk in people knowing-- if they would directly come for you, I just... I couldn't risk your safety if you knew what I truly was. I love you so much, I just wanted to keep us safe."

Husk

The glass he had been wiping down would've shattered on the ground had his tail not caught it. His wings instinctively fluff up, setting the cup on a rack with the rest of the clean, empty glasses.

"Didja have to get up there to tell me this?" He clears his throat deeply, gesturing wildly to ask what you were doing. You, currently perched on top of the bar counter on your knees cupping his face.

"Yeah!" You chirp with a grin. Husk sighs, grabbing you by the waist and hefting you down and off the countertop. He doesn't say a word when your legs wrap around his waist and your arms slide around his shoulders. His cold nose presses to your cheek and he chuckles softly, utterly happy and in love.

"You're a dork, huh, hun? But you're my dork." Husk purrs softly, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

Angel Dust

Owlishly, he stares at you. That confusion melts into a genuine smile and a soft chuckle. His third set of arms materializes, tugging you in by your hips while the other two wrap around your shoulders and waist respectively. Pressing his soft cheek to yours, he affectionately nuzzles you with a laugh.

"You're full of surprises, ain't ya, toots? Y-you're my everything, baby. My world. The one light in this whole damned darkness I call my life."

Vox

He was expecting something much different from you when you climbed into his lap, turning his attention away from his displayed monitors. Red eyes flickering, he's confused when you grasp both sides of his monitor screen. This is new...?? Vox's gaze widens as you finish your statement, chuckling deeply. Covering your hands in his, he places your hand to his chest where his dead heart would still be beating. You make him feel alive, no heartbeat and all.

"Fuck, baby, that's pretty cheesy. But I liked it." Vox grins, red dripping from the corners of his mouth. "C'mere, sweets. Wanna kiss ya."

Blitzø

Why do you have to say some of the cutest shit? Ugh, it makes his heart feel all weird and he's not sure how to react, but he does appreciate it nonetheless, especially with the two of you being alone. You know he's been working on his emotions, trying to do better. When he can't find the words to say, he nuzzles your palm softly and gives you a wobbly smile before harshly rubbing at his eyes.

"Th-thank you, ah, fuck.. Why am I crying? Must be a damn ninja chopping some fuckin' onions somewhere." He sniffles, deeply sighing. He grasps your hand in his, squeezing it softly. "I'm not sure if the world is a large enough example.. To, y'know, express my love or whatever.."

Loona

She's pretty taken aback by your statement, a soft blush staining her cheeks. Her tail gives a little wag and she smiles. Bending down to your height, she gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, her hand slipping into yours.

"You're such a sap, babe, but I love you too. You're my world as well. C'mon, let's see what kind of chaos Beel is having at her party tonight. Not every day I can show off how amazing my partner is."

Striker

Saying that he's surprised is an understatement. He recovers quickly, a smirk curling up his lips and he chuckles softly. He kisses each of your palms, gently removing them from his face. He tugs you in close, tail swaying behind him. Tilting your chin up, his claw running along your lower lip. He leans in close, lips only inches away. His voice noticeably deepens.

"You're sweeter than pie, ain't ya, sugar? Got my heart and stomach all twisted in knots like somethin' awful. I'm not the best with words but I'd be happy to show ya just how much your tender sentiment is mutual. If you'll have me."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[monstersholygrail]

Wild Domination

Lion Hybrid bf x Antelope Hybrid fem!reader— exhibitionism, voyeurism, rough sex, aftercare

Your Lion Hybrid bf not choosing a Lion for his mate had been a very controversial choice within his pride. But he had stuck by it. Stuck by you, his Antelope Hybrid mate.

And you were gonna stick by him through it all too. No matter how often the other lion hybrids looked at you like you were their next meal. But not in the way your bf always did. Or how they whispered cruel words as you passed them by.

Though while you were determined to make friends, thinking if they loved you they’d be more accepting of you, your bf knew only one thing would work.

Dominance.

He had to show them all who was still leading his pride and that no disrespect to his mate would be tolerated. Because you were his love and the one who would be leading alongside him. So in a way you had to show your dominance. Or be dominated.

You shyly follow behind him as he gathers everyone to address his pride. The entire lot of you all standing in the large dining room of his home.

“I hear there is some uncertainty on the claim I have made to my mate,” your bf rumbles out, a subtle threat to his tone. They all avoid his gaze.

You blush as he brings you to stand in front of him. His hands on your shoulders and the comforting presence of his heat on your back helping to calm you. His hands draw down your body with desire, sliding along and groping at your delicious curves, feeling the flesh give away under his intense affection.

You don’t mean to but you end up meeting the eye of everyone at the other end of the table, seeing varying degrees of displeasure.

“I’ve brought you all here to clear any remaining doubt.”

You feel a light pressure on our back and you instantly submit, following your bf’s silent instructions. But your eyes widen as you find yourself bending over on top of the table, cheek squished against the glass.

“Love, what’re you doing?”

He doesn’t respond and for a moment you worry he hadn’t heard your breathless question. Then he flips up your dress and kicks your knees a part so that he can fit snuggly between your legs even with your tail. Any lingering questions fly out of your head the second he pushes your panties to the side and you feel his wet tip pushing through your folds.

“So that you know her heart is mine, her soul is mine, her body is mine, and most of all her perfect pussy is mine,” your bf says with a blissful sigh and he pushes into you.

With a growl he refuses to hold back, wanting everyone to understand the claim he has on you and that you have on him. His hands return to your shoulders as he starts pounding away at you, tail flicking furiously. You moan wildly, struggling to push back against his every thrust when he’s pinning your body down. But knowing you need even more of him.

The other Lion Hybrids look on, acceptance and denial in their expressions. Yet no matter what the smell of arousal was clear from both sides of the room. Your own bliss grows at the sight of them all enjoying the show and you cry out when your bf starts hitting those special spots inside of you, his length spearing through your gummy walls till your toes curl.

“Look at how well she takes my cock. Made for me to be inside of her. No one else- no one else can make me feel like this,” your bf snarls loudly, his voice echoing throughout the room as he keeps pumping his cock inside your tight cunt.

By now you can see just about everyone at the other end of the room touching themselves to the sight of you and your bf. It makes your skin buzz and your pussy flutter around your bf’s dick.

Your bf growls again and a second later you feel his hot breath on your neck. You shiver, leaning into him and his relentless thrusts. The new angle hitting even deeper inside you.

“You like this, sweetheart? Having our pride watch as I take your soaked cunt and stretch it with my cock,” He whispers in your ear and you can’t help but clench down on him, moaning raggedly.

He chuckles as if your reaction had given him all the answer he needed. His thrusts start to turn sloppy and erratic and you know he’s close. Wanting to feel you milk his cock, your bf grips your sensitive horns and guides your body back. You cry out, jerking in his hold but not wanting him to stop.

“Now I want you to cum and prove how much of a slut you really are for me.”

You immediately explode over his cock, your orgasm crashing through you as if just waiting for him to let you release. A long mewl leaves your lips as you unnaturally bend so you can feel him as deep inside you as possible. Your body shakes as your bf continues to snap his hips into your squeezing cunt and with how damn tight you are he can’t hold back his own climax for long.

It only takes a couple more snaps of his hips before he’s following after you, filling your pussy with every last drop of his cum he can. Moans from the other end of the table echo down the way but neither of you pay them any more mind.

He sits down in a nearby chair and pulls you into his arms. Cradling your plump frame in his broad chest and sagging against the piece of furniture. Your bf dares to relax before remembering the rest of the pride down the room. He gruffly dismisses them and as soon as you two are alone he sighs and buries his face in your neck.

“You’ll probably have to give a different version of that speech again. I don’t think anyone heard you,” you comment, lazily reaching up to brush your hands through his mane. A gentle rumble passes through your mate’s chest.

“Oh, I plan to rehearse this speech as many times as you can take me…”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Family man || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: first glimpse of Rafe and his first daughter Madeline!!!

Warnings: slight angst?

Word count: 1,358

A/n: will be writing more about readers birth soon dw!!

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The sound of approaching heels echoed down the hall, drawing closer until they stopped outside the door. Barry’s conversation with Rafe came to a standstill as the two men glanced at each other. Barry raised a curious eyebrow, while Rafe’s sharp gaze fixed on the door. His fingers tightened around the glass of scotch before he swiftly brought it to his lips, downing the amber liquid in one go.

As the glass returned to the table with a quiet clink, the door creaked open, revealing you holding Madeline in your arms. Leo, trailed just behind, his small hands tugging at your dress. “My, my, Mrs. Cameron. Looking good,” Barry remarked with a playful grin, his eyes lingering on you longer than Rafe appreciated.

A quiet tension filled the room, unnoticed by Barry but evident in the subtle narrowing of Rafe’s eyes. You offered a polite smile, always composed. “Thank you, Barry,” you replied evenly, stepping further into the room, feeling Rafe’s gaze on you, cold and sharp.

Rafe rolled his eyes, clearly unamused by Barry’s remark, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. “What are you doing here? I’m busy,” Rafe muttered, the frustration lacing his voice unmistakable as he lazily flicked the unlit cigarette in his hand. Your eyes instinctively followed the movement, a silent reminder of a habit you yourself had let go of since the children were born.

You took a breath, your tone firm yet careful, “Can you watch the kids for a couple of hours?” Rafe’s eyebrow arched in disbelief. His voice dripped with incredulity as he spoke, “Don’t we have nannies for this exact reason?” Before you could respond, Leo’s little fingers reached for the glass of scotch perched precariously at the edge of the table.

Without hesitation, you slid it out of his reach, ignoring the whine of protest that followed. Rafe’s lips twitched, amused by his son’s curiosity. He exchanged a brief, knowing glance with Barry before turning his attention back to you. “She’s sick,” you replied, your voice edged with impatience. “I have an appointment.” You reached for the cigarette between his fingers, plucking it from his hand and placing it in the ashtray.

Your fingers brushed briefly against his, but neither of you acknowledged the touch. Instead, you handed Madeline to him, watching as his rough exterior softened momentarily. He cradled your daughter, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she babbled contentedly in his arms. Rafe’s annoyance resurfaced, though it was quieter this time, buried beneath the calm façade he wore so well.

“And I have a meeting,” he sighed, bouncing Madeline gently on his knee. “Cancel your appointment. I doubt it’s that important.” “I can’t,” you shrugged, the weight of his dismissiveness settling heavily on your shoulders. You leaned down to lift Leo onto a chair, keeping your movements deliberate, even as you felt his blue eyes boring into you. This wasn’t the first time he’d brushed off something important to you, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

As you straightened up, Rafe’s gaze lingered, his irritation now mingled with something more complicated. His protectiveness over the children was undeniable, even as his reluctance to engage with the responsibilities of fatherhood crept into moments like this. You saw it in the way he held Madeline, in the way he looked at Leo, and you knew beneath his cold exterior was a man who loved his family in his own flawed way.

Rafe glanced at Leo, who was now sitting contentedly on the chair, playing with a toy you’d handed him, oblivious to the tension brewing in the room. The smile Rafe had worn moments ago slipped away, replaced with a hard look as he shifted his focus back to you. “And what’s this appointment that’s so important you can’t reschedule it?”

Rafe’s voice was cool, and though his tone lacked the bite you’d grown used to, it still carried the weight of condescension. You straightened, refusing to be diminished under his gaze. “It’s a doctor’s appointment. For me.” You paused, allowing the words to sink in. “I didn’t think I needed to run it by you.”

Rafe’s expression flickered—something shifted in his eyes, but only for a second before the mask slid back into place. He exhaled, frustrated but knowing he couldn’t argue with you on this, at least not outright. He wasn’t a fool; he understood the importance of your health, especially since having Madeline.

But Rafe wasn’t one to back down easily, especially when his pride was on the line. “I’ll make sure the nanny is back tomorrow,” he muttered, bouncing Madeline a little more vigorously now as she giggled at him. “But don’t make a habit of leaving them with me when I have work. You know what kind of pressure I’m under.”

You blinked, stunned by the blatant disregard. Even now, holding your daughter, the reality of his responsibilities as a father seemed secondary to him. Still, you swallowed your frustration. Raising a fight wouldn’t change anything; it never did. “Don’t worry,” you replied quietly, bending down to kiss Leo on the head. “It’s just for today.”

Rafe’s eyes remained on you, scrutinising, calculating as if searching for something in your face—whether it was submission or defiance, you weren’t sure. You had long learned how to mask your emotions, presenting a calm, poised exterior, even when you felt anything but. Barry, who had remained silent for a while, shifted in his seat, clearly sensing the thick tension between you both.

“Hey, it’s just a couple of hours, man. You’ll survive,” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood, but his words caused Rafe to glare at him. Rafe redirected his attention back to you who was at the bar cart, pouring two glasses of water for the kids. Rafe gave Madeline a small smile as she babbled happily in his arms, bouncing her lightly on his knee.

“You’re lucky I love these two,” he mumbled, though his tone carried more warmth now. The sight of his daughter always seemed to soften him, and for a brief moment, it almost felt like things were normal between the two of you. Almost. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Leo standing beside the chair now, looking up at Rafe with wide eyes. He tugged at his father’s sleeve, and Rafe glanced down, his cool exterior melting ever so slightly.

“Come here, buddy,” he said, hoisting Leo onto his lap beside Madeline. The two children giggled, and for a second, the tension in the room dissipated, replaced by the soft, innocent sounds of their laughter. Barry, who had been watching the exchange with an awkward silence, finally spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. “Look at you, Rafe. Mr. Family Man,” he teased, though even he seemed cautious, sensing the fragility of the moment.

Rafe rolled his eyes, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. You watched the scene unfold in front of you—Rafe, sitting there with both kids on his lap, the hard edge in his voice softening as he spoke to them. It was moments like this, fleeting as they were, that reminded you there was still something beneath the cold exterior. Something worth holding onto, even if it was buried deep.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” you finally said, tickling Madeline's tummy and kissing Leo's forehead before you move towards the door. Rafe didn’t look up, his focus now entirely on the kids, but you could feel his silent acknowledgment. It wasn’t exactly an affectionate goodbye, but it was enough. As you reached for the doorknob, you heard Rafe speak again, his voice quieter this time.

“Don’t be late,” he said, though there was less command in his tone now—more a request than a demand. You nodded, glancing back at the three of them. Leo was giggling as Rafe whispered something in his ear, and Madeline was now nestled comfortably against her father’s chest. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel a flicker of warmth, a brief glimpse of what could have been if things were different between you and Rafe.

[darylbae]

there’s just smth about daryl seeing you injured maybe a broken leg or even an amputated one from a bite and limping, someone holding you up as you walk. he’d almost run over to you and pick you up.

a dumb idea — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you were injured on a run, and daryl can't bare to see you that way without helping.

Rick had chosen you for a run, not alone, but for you to go. He'd seen you were quick, efficient with your melee weapons, and were probably one of the best choices. You were joining Rick and Glenn, Daryl having to sit this one out by Rick's orders. He hadn't cleared the prison in full yet, so he wanted Daryl back here to keep watch. Daryl and you weren't exclusively a thing, neither of you had spoken about it at all, but everyone else could see it was waiting to happen. You were currently just really good friends hiding your feelings for each other, or at least thinking you were hiding your feelings for each other. You were sat in the backseat of the car, happily talking to Glenn as the car rolled towards the gates. You glanced out the window to see Daryl, sulking at the gate yet picking his arm up to wave at you. You returned the gesture, a sweet smile on your face that Daryl had become addicted to. One of the many addicting things about you.

Your positive-for-the-end-of-the-world attitude had come to an end when you'd ran into a building to find some cover, the darkness of the building rendering you blind as your leg had been impaled by a broken bit of a glass shelf. You let out a cry, falling to your feet as Rick and Glenn rushed over to assist you. "You good?" "What happened?" Rick had turned a flashlight to your leg, seeing your jeans ripped and stuck to your leg with the amount of blood. You almost passed out at the look of it, the glass had lodged itself in there pretty snug. "We need to get her back, now," Rick demanded, wrapping an arm around your back and coordinating with Glenn to get you safely to the car. Rick had taken his shirt off and tied it around your leg above the wound, before beginning the drive back to the prison. Glenn had trained his eyes on you and your leg for most of the drive, making sure you were still alive and not dying back there. The drive felt like hours, you felt like closing your eyes but Glenn was adamant on talking to you. Telling you about Maggie, telling you about how sweet Daryl seems to be around you, and you knew it was a distraction tactic, to keep you awake and not looking at your completely blood soaked shin.

You heard the rattle of the gates as they'd slid open for the car, and you felt a short burst of relief to be back. "Dar..." You managed to speak, wincing as Rick had reached for your hand to pull you out. "Daryl." Rick and Glenn had their arms under yours, carrying most of your weight for you. Until Daryl had heard the commotion and come out to see what the fuck people were shouting for.

Daryl saw you. Your leg, completely red from the knee down, being assisted into the prison. He wanted to help, he wanted to ease your pain even just a little. Dropping his crossbow to the ground, he'd paced over to you, relieving Glenn and Rick of their duties. "It's okay, I got ya," he cooed, "I got 'er," he'd lifted you, arms clinging to you as he led you to the cell block. "It's okay, sweetheart." Your blood loss wasn't fatal, thankfully, but Herschel was about to have you on the mend in no time.

You'd been allowed to rest, peeling your eyes open after having slept a while. The first thing you were aware of was the pain in your leg, which was thankfully still there. It was still light outside, so it must not have been long at all. A bottle of water and some pain meds were sat at your bedside, and you'd desperately taken them in order to ease your pain. "There's my girl." You heard, and Daryl had entered your cell and sat at your side. "How's the leg?" You chuckled. "It's seen better days." You could've sworn you'd spotted a smile on his face for a moment. "Were you scared? Did you think I was gonna die?" You teased, poking his arm and smiling innocently up at him. "No," he answered, "you're a fighter. I know that." There was something he was keeping to himself, you could see it in his brain. Almost as if he wasn't allowing himself to say it. It had been a tough process even getting to a friendly level with him, he had always kept his feelings to himself. But you liked to believe you were making progress with him, you wanted to. "What's on your mind?" You asked sweetly, your voice like honey, and he was addicted. God, he was addicted. He wanted nothing more than to have you night and day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting, or even dating. "Nothin," he grumbled, and you sighed dramatically. "Come on, Daryl," you exclaimed, "talk to me. I need some sort of stimulation for my brain." Your voice was light, but you meant it. He paused, almost debating whether or not to say it. "I just care about ya, is all. When I saw ya bein carried in, my mind just stopped and all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Told Rick it was a dumb idea." You smiled, poking his arm again. "You care about me, that's sweet. I care about you, too." He grabbed your hand as it made contact with his arm, and just held it between his own. This was his way of expression, to show you how he felt without ruining it with his words. The pair of you just sat in silence, hands interlaced, a stupid grin on both your faces as you stared at each other. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, a wave of confidence taking over you as you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Once Daryl had registered what you'd done, he'd turned his head, closing the small gap between you both for a delicate kiss. He was so gentle, his hands still holding yours firmly, and you wanted to do this forever. "I hope that speaks better than I do." He admitted, and you just laughed, resting your head on your shoulder. "Now get some rest, I don't want to see ya on your feet for the rest of the day."

[grandisknight]

afternoon treatment | zayne

summary: Zayne follows the "doctor's orders" in order to feel better.

tags: suggestive, established relationship, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), soft zayne, medical kink, 'doctor' kink, kissing, medical procedures (auscultation), medical inaccuracies (in a sense), chest mention, straddling

wc: 2.2k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: relax time affinity 80 with zayne and that one liner he has. that's it, that's the tweet.

Afternoons at Akso Hospital were always the busiest, from routine check-ups to meetings alike. Staff and accompanying patients hustled through the halls and hushed rooms—there was always something happening, and the cardiac surgery department was no different.

Yet, today seemed to offer Zayne some grace and time to reside in the chilled comforts of his workspace. The morning surgery went well, and his next procedure wouldn’t be for another hour or two. 

Therefore, he’s rewarded himself with a simple diagnosis report. The file was lighter in subject, easier to digest in comparison to what was usually on his plate. In his mind, this was a well-fitted solution to kill some time before returning to sterile scrubs and tense operating rooms.

Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks over their exterior when a soft series of familiar knocks reach his door.

“It’s open,” he calls out, rectangular reflection returning to the onscreen data. Without missing a beat and sparing another glance, he adds on, “Weren’t you supposed to visit a No-Hunt Zone today?”

“Finished my observations earlier than expected,” you chirped, pushing the door to a close and striding towards his busy desk. 

Recent reports of Metaflux fluctuations had consumed your bright morning with Herte Knaves running amok. Nothing out of the ordinary from your usual line of work, easily dealt with in a couple of bulleted blows. Their dispersing remains flecked the air in a quiet flurry that reminded you of snowflakes—naturally, your feet led you to the pristine floors of Akso soon thereafter.

Curiously, you sidestep to shadow his focused form, gaze altering between the wall of text and precise clicks of his keys. “Thought you were on break, but it seems like you’re working,” you mumble, in awe of his steady pace. “As always, Dr. Zayne.”

He speaks with an obvious, “Well, I am at work. The call is coming from inside the house.”

“Zayne,” you punctuate. His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, and you cross your arms in turn. “You know what I mean.”

A faint chuckle passes under his breath. “You’re accusing me as if I’m in the wrong.”

He was not, actually—far from it. That goes without saying when you were in the middle of his office, imposing during said work time. But you’ve been in his graces for nearly a year now, and know well enough that it was only around this time in the afternoons would he be able to catch a breather.

You shake your head, putting on your best voice before coming to your defense. “No, but the doctor’s orders require you to take a break.”

This catches his attention, fingers slowing their clicks and chair swiveling to face you head on. Slight confusion quirks his brow, mirroring your folded arms in observation. “And pray tell, who would that be? Last time I checked, only one of us is a certified surgeon in this room.”

Your eyes instinctively dart to his stationed badge, credentials on full display against his chest pocket. He had you beat there, at the very least.

“You may hold a degree for medical hearts,” you start, taking a step into the space of his parted knees and tapping your chest. 

“But I hold the degree to your heart.” Your finger redirects to the meeting point of his neckline, resting above the aforementioned muscle.

“Is that so?” The corners of his lips lift, amused by your display and newfound authority. “I was unaware of such a professional. Surely, I would’ve remembered seeing someone as dedicated as you during my studies.” 

He takes the chance to brush away a strand of hair hugging your cheek, neatly tucking it behind your ear. Gentle appreciation fills his comment of, “Would’ve made them much more enjoyable, too.”

“That’s besides the point.” You wave him off, though it doesn’t fan away the heat blushing your ears, sensing his underlying meaning. 

Returning to your self-presumed role, you nod. “As your dedicated and completely legitimate doctor, I believe you’re showing concerning symptoms.”

Zayne hums, withdrawing his hand. “I’m afraid your assessment is lost on me. What exactly are these symptoms?”

“Well, my patient seems to love working overtime. This can cause unnecessary stress to the body and mind, for one.” 

You lift one knee to bracket his, the other following in suit—Zayne adapts rather quickly, leaning back to give you space as you carefully straddle his waist. His arms naturally circle around you, hands hovering your tailbone to keep you steady.

Neatly settled on top, you continue with your mild lecture of reported observations. “Even though he should be using the precious time in-between work to give himself a well-deserved break, he does the exact opposite.” 

“He is on a break,” Zayne says to his defense. “It’s barely considered heavy work.”

“Doing any kind of work during down-time does not count, mister,” you chide.

You gently tussle his bangs, pushing them to the side and revealing his forehead. Smoothing over the skin above his brow, your eyes searched his expression before noting a shadow of fatigue beneath his lashes. He really was working himself to the bone, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“A dire symptom of a workaholic is when his skin is faring worse than usual,” you exaggerate. “Your eye bags are so prominent they could be checked in at the airport.”

“It’s not that bad,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling at your touch. They flutter to a close when your hand slides to cup his face, thumb brushing the high of his cheekbone in gentle care. “The lighting just makes it seem worse for wear. I’m fine.”

“I beg to differ.” You slowly trail downwards, caressing the side of his neck with a pursed lip. 

His pulse point thrummed nicely against your fingers, and a curious press elicited a low sigh from him. Unexpected, though the sound was music to your ears and had butterflies rampant in your stomach. A part of you wanted to hear more of the gravelly timbre that rarely made an appearance—you knew what needed to be done.

Picking up where you left off, more of your self-declared medical ramblings followed. “See here? Another symptom, such a fast pace surely isn’t for the faint of heart. Your apical pulse,” to which your fingertips lightly drag themselves towards, “can’t lie to me.”

Zayne is breathless by the time he formulates a response in sincerity. “How can we go about a treatment plan, then? It seems pretty serious.”

A slowed, purposeful pronunciation follows soon thereafter. “Doc-tor.”

Your heart skipped not one, but two beats—dangerous, surely, but it fell short in the face of Zayne’s steadfast compliance. He peers up at you, factually smitten and framed softly by the office lights blending the contours of his face. You raise your other hand to hold his fine face between them. Admiring, in awe of all that he was.

“There’s only one known treatment option, I’ll have you know.” Unable to hide your smile, you quickly add, “Might require mouth to mouth if things go south.”

Zayne’s pools of hazel flick to your upturned lips, before meeting your mischievous stare with a hint of his own.

“Is this truly scientifically proven, or did you come all this way just to kiss me?”

“Yes,” was all you offered to his question, before placing an airy kiss to his cupid’s bow. 

A second found its way to the bridge of his nose, laid over the slight ridge you adore before another rested between his raised brows. His eyes flutter to a close when your lips gently pressed to his temple, stilling at the contact. Slowly, you leave a trail of love across his cheeks, pausing once you meet the corner of his mouth.

Your thumb brushes against his lower lip, smiling at the way he parts them so readily for you. His chin tilts in the direction of your touch, mouthing the chase. A flush of pink sinked into his skin, a perfect peach for you to sink your teeth into.

“Tell me,” you say softly. Your fingers curl underneath his chin, observing the lidded gaze that follows. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

A tender exhale pushes past those very lips. “Right here,” he quietly admits. Closing the distance until you were only a breath away, his eyes focused on the plush of your mouth. “Please, Doctor.”

The union was gentle and warm, a kiss so kind that the same sentiment blossomed in your chest. Traces of a sweetened coffee picked from the hospital’s cafeteria and warm amber from his collar consumed your senses.

Zayne held you closer, chest to his and enveloping in a tender embrace. His hands traced the curve of your back, following your spine to gently cradle your head. Just to keep you this close, he was restless—realizing that he needed this more than he thought. The smile that cracks through another kiss is a testament to it, sealed with a deep breath of contentment.

It was perfect, a moment in time where your thundering heartbeats were equally matched. The world was nothing but a witness to the seconds spent in meaningful lip-locking.

“Mmph,” you groan unceremoniously. 

Something firm brushed against your brow, pulling you out of the sweet trance. The culprit looked back at you in its silver rimmed and glass glory, sliding down the bridge of Zayne’s nose.

“Hm?” He leans back, noticing your discomfort. “What’s the matter?” 

You contemplate on telling him, partially distracted by the puff of his lower lip. It has a sheen of your affection, and you were sure you looked no different in his eyes.

“Your glasses are falling,” you admit. You reach for the frames, intending on pushing them back to the high of his nose.

Zayne pauses your wrist then, a warm mirth in his gaze. “These are in the way, are they not?” He guides your hand, allowing the glasses to depart from his face and settling it on his desk. 

With or without the specs, he truly was handsome—the kind of beauty modeled in Greek busts, from the contours of his cheeks to the sharp angle of his brow bone. You’d have to thank his parents the next time you see them.

He sneaks in a kiss, no longer obscured by the barrier and face perfectly pressed to yours. “My Doctor seems to be distracted,” he comments, taking in your wandering gaze. A cool hand graces the crowd of your head, patting softly. “What are you planning this time?”

His touches brought you out of your daydreaming, and you nod. Hands settling on the curves of his shoulders, you slide them upwards with a murmur of, “I should check your apical pulse again.”

Your eyes wander to the space behind him, a stethoscope only a grab away. With some effort, you spare a hand to reach for it, rising from the chair to a degree. 

Zayne noticeably stiffens at his newfound view—your chest in his face wasn’t something on his agenda for today. The breath in his throat hitches, recognizing your fragrance. Comforting and pleasant, a piece of home warmly enhanced by your skin.

By the time you successfully have the medical device in hand, you nearly drop it at the feeling of his nose digging into your chest. 

“Zayne? You’re—mmh?!” His hands find their way to your midsection, holding you still as he inhales deeply. You only hear him hum between muffled fabric, and your mind dizzies at the heatwave the mere sound sends to your core.

He pulls back with a soft sigh, the peach of his skin notably deepened to a soft rouge. Zayne guides you back to sit proper in his lap, reaching for the stethoscope in your surprised hand. Carefully, he places the ear tips into place for you and brushes your hair back in the process. Nonchalant, as if he didn’t spend the last waking moments happily buried in your chest.

“If you’re checking my pulse for me, I hope you’ve read the hospital’s code of conduct.” He drops his hands then, patiently awaiting your auscultation. In the reflection of his coy stare, you find that your own blush is faring far, far worse than his.

“Right, right. I did, trust me,�� you say in confidence.

You, in fact, did no such thing. But memory of past appointments guides your hand over his heart, chest piece sliding around to count the beats. Not a single count was missed, all perfectly in place and accounted for.

Though, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming. It didn’t help that his eyes were entirely focused on you, pointed with affection and observation alike.

“Well?” Zayne hums. “How does it sound?”

“You have a heart, and it’s beating alright.” Your conclusion was far from exemplary, but at least it was the truth.

“That’s a relief,” he laughs quietly. He gently removes the stethoscope, setting it aside. “Realistically, this isn’t how an auscultation works.”

“My methods are just special, that’s all.” You shrug, lightly patting the space that protects the aforementioned organ. “But you seem to be feeling better, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Mhm.” Zayne presses a kiss to your nose, and offers his gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor. I don’t know what I would do without your care.”

[incognit0slut]

omg neeeed a spencer fic based off of lunch by billie eilish, i feel like that song definitely suites him 😭

Being cornered in the filing room was the last thing you expected when Spencer asked you out for lunch.

Warnings: (18+) oral (f), semi-public (they’re at work) ~1.6k words

A/n: Ty anon I've been listening to this song nonstop and now I have a reason to use it for munch Spence, ily

“What do you want to eat for lunch?” you asked, striding through the bullpen with Spencer at your side. He had a hand on your lower back, and you couldn't help but wonder why he was being so touchy at work when he was usually the one insisting on professionalism. Not that you were complaining; you’d take any small gesture of his affection.

“How about that new sushi place around the corner?” you suggested, leaning into him slightly. “I could go for a salmon skin roll.”

He remained unusually silent, and as you exited through the glass doors, you frowned when he guided you away from the elevator. “What—” you began, looking up at him as he led you down the hallway. “Where are you taking me?”

His silence was starting to unnerve you. He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before pulling you into the filing room and shutting the door behind you.

“Spencer,” you hissed, eyes darting around the room. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours, pressing you against the door. His hands cupped your face, holding you in place as he kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless. You hadn’t realized just how much his kisses could affect you until you started dating him—each one was deep, passionate, and downright knee-weakening.

When he finally pulled away, you clung to his arms for balance, your mind reeling. “What was that for?”

He grinned mischievously. “I’m hungry.”

You blinked, confused. “So you decided to eat my face?”

He chuckled, leaning in to peck your lips again. "That was just the appetizer." His hands trailed down your body, and when you felt him run his palm down your legs, you knew you were doomed.

"Spence," you warned, trying to give him your best glare but already melting into him as his fingers slid under your skirt. "I thought you wanted to have lunch."

"I do," he agreed, slipping inside the waistband of your panties. "And I am. I want to eat you."

You really needed to talk to him about his oral fixation—not that you minded, because honestly, you loved it when he went down on you. The problem was, he didn't always pick the right time or place.

Like that one time on a date when he begged to taste you, leaving your food cold when you returned from the bathroom, with the waiter giving you the stink eye you could feel the judgment in their gaze. And now he wanted to do it at work, with your friends practically in the next room.

"We can't—" you tried to protest, but your voice faltered as he nibbled on your earlobe.

"Shh," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I’ll be quick."

Before you could respond, his hand slipped further down, and you let out a gasp, clutching at his shoulders. His touch was electrifying, and you found it increasingly difficult to remember why this was a bad idea.

"We're going to get caught," you managed to say, though it lacked conviction.

"We won't," he murmured, and when his fingers brushed your arousal, he laughed softly, spreading your slickness up and down your folds. "You’re already so wet."

He grinned when he felt your hips thrusting and bucking upwards. He knew you were inviting him to give you more. The flat tips of his fingers begin to dip in your entrance teasingly. You wanted him. You needed him. He knew he had you right where he wanted.

"Spencer, please," you whispered, half in protest, half in desperation.

"Please what?" he asked, his voice husky. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?"

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. "Please… just..."

He took that as encouragement, intensifying the pressure and speed of his movements. You clung to him, your knees weakening, your breath hitching in ragged gasps. Just when you felt you couldn't bear it any longer, he knelt before you, deftly sliding your panties down your legs. Any resistance dissolved as he gripped one of your legs, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Lift your skirt up.”

With trembling hands, you gathered the fabric and lifted it, exposing yourself fully to him. His eyes couldn’t help but rest on the sight, taking note of your swollen, aroused lips and how wet you already were. His fingers traced over your slick folds, teasingly brushing against your sensitive skin before lowering his head between your thighs.

The moment his tongue made contact, you were already lost in a haze of pleasure. Your head spun as nerves and excitement merged into a blissful frenzy in your mind. He teased up and down your slit, briefly dipping inside your dripping entrance before returning to focus on your swollen, aching clit.

"You taste amazing," he grunted, his voice thick with desire. His hands encircled your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as his tongue circled and flicked over your sensitive bud. He sucked lightly, causing you to hold your breath, before releasing it in a ragged gasp. Your hips bucked uncontrollably as you ran your hands through his hair, tugging on the strands, eliciting a deep, rough yet eager moan from him.

This was why he loved tasting you so much. He was addicted to your reactions, the way you whimpered and moaned, and the eager groans he made between your trembling thighs. He reveled in the sensation of your juices against his tongue, thrilled by the chance to please you and watch your legs quiver around him. He adored the way your voice strained when you called out his name, and how tightly you gripped the strand of his hair between your fingers.

He loved it all, making it clear as his tongue sped up, circling your clit even faster. Looking up at you, he saw you trembling, your gaze locking onto his wide, shining brown eyes as he continued to pleasure you. Each flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, drew you closer to the edge.

"Please," you cried out, fingers gripping his hair as you moved your hips against his mouth. "I'm so close," you gasped, your focus entirely on him, feeling the pressure of his tongue against your throbbing cunt.

He responded with a low, satisfied hum, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. The tension built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until you were teetering on the brink of release. Your breaths came in shallow pants, your entire body alight with anticipation.

He held onto your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he expertly licked your folds, skillfully massaging your clit with the flat of his tongue. The way he moved, the way he tasted you, it was driving you wild. You could feel yourself spiraling, the tension building inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

With one final, skillful flick of his tongue, he pushed you over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering, your breath catching in your throat. You cried out, a raw, uninhibited sound of pure ecstasy, as the pleasure washed over you in powerful, crashing waves.

Spencer held you through it, his tongue never slowing, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were spent and trembling in his arms. Only then did he finally pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied, almost smug expression.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his hands gently caressing your trembling thighs.

You nodded, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. He rose to his feet, his eyes still locked on yours as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his expression one of satisfaction and tenderness. He pulled you into a warm embrace, his hands gently rubbing your back as you steadied yourself, your legs still trembling slightly from the intensity of your release.

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I can't believe we just did that," you said, your voice still shaky. "We could have gotten caught."

"The thrill of almost getting caught makes it even better, doesn't it?"

You groaned and swatted his chest. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. "Let's get you cleaned up before someone wonders where we are."

Nodding, you straightened your skirt and tried to compose yourself, though the lingering heat between your thighs was a constant reminder of what had just transpired. Spencer handed you your panties with a playful smirk, and you quickly slipped them back on, feeling a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration.

As you both stepped out of the room, the hallway was thankfully empty. He kept a protective arm around your waist as he guided you back towards the bullpen.

"Where did you two go?" JJ asked the moment she saw you. "We just ordered takeout."

Spencer stepped slightly aside from you, but his arm remained reassuringly around your waist. "It's fine, I already had my lunch, anyway," he replied smoothly.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure, and returned to your desk as you ignored JJ’s stare. The slight blush on your face threatened to give you away, and you shot him a discreet but pointed glare.

"Yeah? What did you eat?" JJ asked, her curiosity clearly piqued.

"Oh, just something... incredibly satisfying," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo. “Something I've been craving for a while."

You bit your lip, hoping the warmth in your cheeks wasn't too obvious as you met his eyes briefly, noting the smug look on his face.

You were going to kill him.

[dahliakbs]

Damian Wayne x Child! Reader (Part 1) - This won't do —⁠☆

Synopsis: after seeing the state of your apartment Damian pulls some strings and changes your life on step at a time.

Masterlist , Pillager Of Art

"Are your parents attending the pta meeting?" Damian asks.

After seeing the wretched state your house was in Damian chose to stand at the door.

The moldy yellow floor of your apart was covered in dirt and whatever substances you managed track back into the house. The walls in the same sorry state with a moldy yellow wallpaper that was covered in nasty cracks and stains that could never be removed.

The tiles of your flooring were covered in a bottomless pit of clothes and whatever else was in that pile. Your window didn't show some immaculate view of Gotham City instead it was closed off with would. Glass shards left on the floor in front of the window after a stray bullet was shot through your window.

"Oh my Dad, he's not coming" you say as you make your way towards your kitchen.

Damian couldn't bare looking into the kitchen to see what mess was made in their so he chose to stair the ceiling instead.

"Why not?" He tilts his head to the side, he was told by Alfred that events like these were the only way to see how your child was progressing and apparently it was mandatory for parents to attend so why weren't your coming?

"Oh, my parents are dead" you said as if It didn't bother you and it didn't.

Your mother had sadly passed away during child birth.

Your dad tho...

He was a piece of work, never cared for your well-being AT ALL. You basically raised yourself in this house. The only reason you hadn't starved yet was because your father left food in the cupboard for you to use (mostly unhealthy cheap food).

You barely ever saw your dad and when he died you hadn't even noticed, not like he ever came home anyway. The only way you knew was when the news broadcast came on and you saw a blurred out image of a man that vaguely resembled your father.

There were several gunshot holes scattered around the figures body and by the looks of it he was probably just getting off of work before the death occurred.

The situation never bothered you, having no adults around was a blessing if anything.

"My parents can't come but I'll wait with you until your dad does" you replied and gasped when you found what you were looking for.

"Dami you have to try one" you turned to him with a cup of ramen noodles in hand.

"No thank you, aren't there other options?" he asked as he began to list off foods he'd already eaten before.

Safe to say, you hadn't even know those foods existed or eaten anything that wasn't microwavable.

This wouldn't do.

When he left your house that evening he made it his mission to find a way to get you out of that situation.

And that he did, when the day of the PTA meeting arrives Damian is oddly quiet. Not as if he talked much anyway.

While you both waited for his dad to finish speaking with the teachers he'd a held a tight grip on your hand as if to silently tell you not to run off anywhere.

"Dami I still don't know why you told me to bring all my stuff with me, are we having a sleepover?" You asked, you were told to bring all necessities which means that you needed your tooth brush and whatever you could salvage from that mess of a house.

"You'll know when we get there" he said calmly which only made your excitement grown even more. He was already pretty used to your energetic behavior so this was nothing.

At last the meeting had finished and you were all exiting he building.

"Is this the friend you told me about Damian" his father spoke up only to receive a nod in return.

You had never noticed how eerily similar they look but now that you were stood right before him you realized noticed the shared features.

"(Reader) right" Bruce got down in one knee so he could speak to you at eye level. Now, extending invitations to join the family weren't an everyday occurrence but if his son was so hard pressed on your living conditions and even brought up good points as to why you can't live there.

Plus he knew you were a good kid.

"A little Birdy informed me of your living conditions and they wanted me to extend an exciting offer to you" he spoke to you in a way that made your excitement peak.

You were so excited that you hadn't even noticed when you got in the car or when you arrived at the manor or when you arrived at Damian's bedroom door.

For you everything went by quickly, so quickly that when you woke up the next morning you couldn't even remember why you were in Damian's house or why you were currently bundled up across from his sleeping face.

He must've bundled you up while you were asleep. He was always considerate but rarely ever showed you that side of him.

"Dami, I need to go home" you said groggily.

"Your not going anywhere" he instantly replied.

"But I can't stay here forever, I need to go home" you said in a worried tone but he only raised a brow.

"I knew you weren't listening" he sighed.

"Just go back to sleep" he waved his hand in front if your face which seemed to do the trick because you were knocked out within seconds.

And just like that you were silently adopted into the family.