#can you imagine all of the dinner conversations
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kinzhae · 2 days ago
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He Only Dated You For Your Sister
Gojo X Fem!Reader
You always thought love would save you. That it would sweep in and make everything hurt less—less lonely, less empty, less
 you. And for a while, with Satoru Gojo, it felt like it had.
He wasn’t just charming; he was magnetic. His presence filled every space, his laughter echoing louder than anyone else’s. He made you feel seen, plucking you out of the background you’d been relegated to your whole life. He chose you, or at least that’s what you told yourself.
But the truth is, he never chose you.
You see it now, in hindsight, with a clarity that cuts like broken glass. The signs were always there, but you ignored them because you wanted to believe in the illusion. You wanted to believe that, for once, you were enough.
The final blow came the night it all unraveled.
You had planned a quiet evening—dinner at home, candles flickering on the table, the kind of intimate moment you craved but rarely got. He arrived late, as always, with a lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You tried to ignore the ache in your chest when he barely glanced at the effort you’d put into everything.
Halfway through the meal, your sister’s name slipped into the conversation. Again.
“She’s doing amazing, isn’t she?” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “I mean, she could do anything she wanted.”
You froze, your fork hovering mid-air. It wasn’t the first time he’d talked about her, but tonight, something snapped.
“Satoru,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. “Do you even realize how often you bring her up?”
His expression faltered, surprise flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I can’t go a single day without hearing you talk about her,” you said, your voice rising despite yourself. “I’m talking about the way you look at her. The way you
 God, the way you light up around her.”
He blinked, leaning back in his chair, his usual confidence suddenly absent. “You’re imagining things,” he said softly, but the guilt in his eyes betrayed him.
“No,” you shot back, standing now, your heart racing. “I’m not. Don’t you dare lie to me. Not anymore.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. You could feel your hands shaking, your breath coming in shallow gasps. And then, in a voice so quiet it was barely audible, he said the words you’d been dreading.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
The room tilted. Your world tilted. You gripped the back of your chair to steady yourself. “What didn’t you mean, Satoru?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and that pause—that damned, suffocating pause—told you everything. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about you,” he said. “I do. But
”
“But it’s her,” you finished for him, your voice breaking.
The look on his face was answer enough.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The weight of his betrayal pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had known, deep down, for so long. But hearing it—seeing it—was something else entirely.
You grabbed your coat, your vision blurry with tears, and headed for the door.
“Wait,” he called, his voice laced with desperation. “Don’t go. Please. We can fix this.”
You turned, your hand gripping the doorknob so tightly it hurt. “Fix what, Satoru? The fact that I was never enough for you? The fact that you used me to get closer to her?”
He flinched, the weight of your words hitting him like a slap.
“You don’t love me,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “You never did. And I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
And with that, you walked out.
---
The night air was freezing, but you didn’t feel it. You walked aimlessly, your chest hollow, your tears blending with the light drizzle that had started to fall. You thought breaking up with him would bring some kind of closure, some kind of relief.
But all you felt was loss.
Loss for the person you thought he was. Loss for the love you thought you had. And most of all, loss for the part of you that still wanted him, even now.
When you got home, your phone buzzed relentlessly—texts from him, voicemails pleading for another chance. But you knew there was nothing left to salvage. He had never truly been yours to begin with.
You deleted the messages, one by one, until your phone was silent.
And in the quiet, you made a promise to yourself: you would heal. Not for him. Not for anyone else. For you.
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fear-is-truth · 21 hours ago
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THERE IS AN IDEA OF PATRICK BATEMAN, some sort of clean-cut abstraction. sleek and composed, an entity dressed in cerruti suits and armed with a flawless smile that mirrors the world’s shallow expectations. the surface is pristine, polished
perfection. but beneath it lies nothingness. tonight, the edges are fraying. the mask of sanity isn’t slipping—patrick doesn’t allow that—but the cracks are there, visible to those who know where to look.
he spears a piece of civet de lapin with savage precision, the tines of his fork puncturing the tender meat as though it’s timothy price’s chest cavity, the cleaver in his mind driving neatly between the sixth and seventh ribs. patrick doesn’t look at you directly, but his peripheral vision is locked on you, on price, on the distance between you that feels like it’s shrinking with every word that leaves price’s greasy lips. price thinks he’s clever. using dim-witted jokes as an excuse to lean just slightly into your personal space. saying your name like he’s tasting it on his tongue like wine—it’s all part of some pathetic attempt to needle patrick. jealousy churns like acid reflux, climbing up his throat.
patrick doesn’t interrupt; he never does. instead, his irritation manifests in small ways. the tight clench of his jaw as price makes another asinine comment about “the boy next door.” this isn’t just jealousy—it’s humiliation, resentment. patrick can’t stand price’s charm, especially how he can flirt so casually, so sloppily, and still get a response. patrick has spent years perfecting himself and yet here you are, humoring someone who doesn’t deserve a fraction of your attention. his chest tightens as he watches you laugh, the sound so soft and genuine. patrick stares at his plate, trying to blink away the heat stinging his eyes.
when the waitress approaches to refill his glass, he smiles up at her. “i’ll kill you, cut your throat, drain the blood from your corpse, and have you stuffed like one of those taxidermy animals at d’orsay.”
..
later, in patrick’s pristine kitchen, you lean against the marble counter, still wearing the faint glow of wine and conversation. the scent of citrus cleaner lingers in the air. patrick stands by the fridge, unscrewing an evian. you’re recounting something from dinner, a moment you found vaguely amusing. “timothy really has this commendable switch,” you say, reminiscing about the way his ability to shift the tone of a conversation in order to keep it afloat.
the words register—or, rather, what patrick thinks he hears registers. his brows knit for a moment before his expression smooths, and he nods with agreement. “he is a contemptible bitch,” as though this has been a universally acknowledged fact all along.
you blink. “what?”
patrick sets the bottle down on the counter, his face impassive as he adjusts his cufflinks.
“price. a contemptible bitch. very true.”
your lips part to correct him, but the sheer absurdity of the situation stops you. patrick doesn’t notice your reaction—or if he does, he ignores it. he’s already moved on, straightening the lapel of his suit jacket, his mind cycling through another round of imagined violence involving price and a very large knife.
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dekariosclan · 3 days ago
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I can't help but send another ask - or, well, this falls more under headcanon territory - your insights into Gale are always so poignant and immensely entertaining!
Can't remember exactly where in Act 1, but at some point Gale mentions that during his isolation he warded his townhouse tower against visitors for their own safety. Now, it's easy to take that at face value and assume he meant standard boring ol' protection spells, but we've all seen his resurrection protocol.
Which led me to ponder the following: what do you imagine the ratio of "practical wards meant to harmlessly deter visitors" to "elaborate booby traps that put Home Alone to shame" is? Does he remember where they all are, or after returning to Waterdeep are there a lot of "ah, must have missed that one" moments while rescuing poor Tav from yet another trap they set off by accident? Is Tara part of the security system?
I just feel your thoughts on the matter would be positively delightful to read
Can I just say, I would legitimately pay a ridiculous amount of money to see a Gale / Home Alone crossover movie.
Ridiculous. Amount.
But since we will never be blessed with that, let’s chat about it here!
You are absolutely correct that Gale talks about warding his tower during his confinement! He mentions it during his conversation with Tav at the tiefling party, if you question him about being lonely during his confinement:
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Now, for your ask:
The ratio of ‘practical wards’ to going full “Home Alone: Lost in Waterdeep”? I think it’d be 50% straight up barriers and 50% goofy booby traps
and honestly, I don’t think that the goofy booby traps are just a Gale thing. I think it’s a wizardly pride thing. Remember that wizard tower in the Underdark?! That guy had turrets with laser beams, an enchanted ass elevator, and a robot that needed a hug but would also kill you. Lorroakan had Ramazith’s tower set up with false portals, guards, puzzles that can disintegrate you and again, every wizard’s favorite, those damned laser beams.
I think Gale’s barriers and wards would be straightforward spells. His traps, though, I feel would be 190% more creative. And 190% more GALE, as every single trap would involve our favorite mirror image Gale popping up to say hello!
I think the barriers/wards would do fine for deterring most visitors—Gale did say he’d set up enough ‘to keep a small army at bay’—but in the event of a more persistent guest, Mirror Gale would politely provide ample (and increasingly passive-aggressive) warnings to try and persuade any visitors away:
“Hello there! You seem rather determined to make your presence known! Rest assured your visit has been noted; however, i must ask that you turn back from here. Have a lovely evening!”
“Greetings! You know, I would have thought it was quite obvious by the myriad barriers you’ve had to traverse that company is unwelcome, yet here you are! A more intelligent visitor would have likely given up by now, but it seems common sense won’t stop you, will it? No no, heaven forbid.”
“You don’t quite seem to be getting the hint. Tell me, are you often this belligerent and clueless? I shall make note not to invite you to any parties once my Tower is open to visitors once more.”
“Hello again! Ha-ha, ahh
.are you quite sure you wish to proceed? I must warn you that I have been, ah, instructed to incinerate you if you go any further! Ah-ha, no hard feelings of course!”
Do I think Tara would be part of the security system? That’s a tough one, because while Tara CAN AND WILL cast a fireball with excellent accuracy when needed (as shown by the rooftop meeting if it goes sour), I think she would’ve been unable to commit to security duties due to having to go find magical Gale Dinner© trinkets for his consumption.
Finally, I would assume that Gale would take extra special care to ensure that all traps/wards have been deactivated when he brings his beloved Tav home—however, I could see there mayyybee being one or two missed. In which case, a quiet afternoon of Tav exploring their new home might suddenly be disrupted by a glowing Gale appearing and proclaiming, “Hello! Ah! Well—this is rather awkward, isn’t it? Despite ALL prior warnings, you have now breached my inner sanctum and sadly, must be punished for it. I shall now commence following you and reading a selection of Elminster’s teachings on the history of conjuration spells, which is sure to bore you so completely that you will long for death—”
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o3o-lapd-o3o · 2 days ago
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okay! part 4 is here! still no dinner scene but hey, who doesn't like a telemachus and athena moment? huh? huh?
the post/thread that started this whole au
dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3
*later that day* *telemachus walking around the palace ground and speaking with athena about poseidon & also tomorrows family dinner*
telemachus: so, you said lord poseidon is your uncle, right?
athena: *under her breath to herself* unfortunately
athena: *to telemachus this time* he is indeed my father’s brother.
telemachus: what does he like? what’s his favourite food? does eat with you and the other gods on olympus?
athena: *not expecting to play 40 questions about poseidon*
athena: HU- *coughs* why do you want to know? i thought you studied the gods when you were younger?
telemachus: i mean yeah, but those are other people’s words. what better way than to ask his actual family?
athena: *regretting this conversation, but answers because it is telemachus asking*
athena: if you are looking to strike a conversation with him, i can say for certain he will be interested in anything about his kingdom, the sea.
athena: as for food, i’m sure you know we gods, do not require mortal food for sustenance.
telemachus: *confused and stops walking*
telemachus: *turns and looks up at athena* but you ate breakfast this morning with us? and other meals?
athena: *stops walking also and laughs a little at his confused face*
athena: *ruffles telemachus’ hair* yes i did. we can find it enjoyable, whether it be an offering, during a feast or with

athena: *stops ruffling his hair & smiles warmly at telemachus* family.
telemachus: *smiles*
telemachus: *continues walking*
athena: *continues with him*
telemachus: so, you still never said what his favourite food was?
athena: *shrugs* i don’t know, fish?
telemachus: *laughs* well we certainly have plenty of that!
*both continue talking and walking together*
*a short while later*
telemachus: ok so even though he does have a place to live on olympus, he doesn’t live there? how come?
athena: the sea is his domain, i would expect he feels more comfortable being always part of it. he knows everything that is happening on and in it then.
athena: also, i’m sure that having my father be king of the gods while also being his younger brother, is not something he would personally want to be around all the time.
athena: i think if it were my younger brother

athena: *imagines ares as king of the gods* *shakes the thought immediately away*
athena: *waves hand in front of her in dismissal* never mind that thought.
telemachus: *eyebrow raised in confusion* uh ok.
athena: as i was saying, my father, while he is a great & wise king of us gods, occasionally having to sometimes deal with his...
athena: *thinks to the lighting shaped scars on her face and body*
athena: 
games, does not always end up good for those who play them.
telemachus:
telemachus: so, he just prefers living in his palace under the sea basically?
athena: pretty much, yeah.
athena: maybe you could save some more of your questions for my uncle at dinner tomorrow?
athena: trust me, i’m sure he’d love to talk about himself.
telemachus: yeah, i’ve got so much to ask him!
telemachus: not just about himself, but how he and my father came to be such good friends!
athena: *laughing to herself as she knows the truth of said friendship*
athena: oh i too would like to know

athena: *has a thought* little wolf, you’re helping your mother and the palace servants plan everything for tomorrow, correct?
telemachus: yeah i am!
telemachus: actually, i probably should go and find mother to discuss things.
athena: *gently holds his arm before he can run off* before you go, i believe it would be best if we sat your father and my uncle right next to each other don’t you think?
athena: i normally know your mother and father would sit together as king and queen, but this is a family dinner, is it not?
athena: *grins* friends should be with friends.
telemachus: *holds hand up for a high five* that sounds like a great idea athena! that means you’re next to me, right?
athena: *hive fives and then smiles at telemachus* of course.
telemachus: *smiling back* okay, i’ll go and let mother know!
telemachus: *waves before heading into the palace* bye ‘thena!
athena: *waves back* goodbye telemachus.
athena: *now to herself* oh tomorrow will be fun indeed.
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chaoticrockmusic · 2 days ago
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A Little Light in the Dark
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Synopsis; Bruce Wayne invites you to Wayne Manor for an intimate dinner, a rare glimpse into his world beyond the mask. But when a sudden blackout plunges the mansion into darkness, his chaotic family takes over the evening, and you see the unpolished, human side of the Wayne household. Amid the teasing, laughter, and chaos, Bruce’s quiet moments with you shine brightest, proving that even Gotham’s Dark Knight has a soft side reserved just for you. Warnings; Damian being a little sassy brat
Bruce invites you to Wayne Manor for dinner, promising a quiet, intimate evening. When you arrive, the sprawling estate is even more magnificent than you imagined, but Bruce’s warm smile and the way he takes your coat quickly dispel your nerves.
The dining room is grand, yet the table is set simply, with just two settings and soft candlelight. It’s a surprising contrast to the billionaire’s public persona, and the subtle care he’s put into the evening makes your heart flutter.
"Not as intimidating as you expected?" Bruce asks, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he pulls out your chair.
"I wouldn’t go that far," you reply, but your smile is teasing. "It’s... cozy, in a billionaire kind of way."
The conversation flows easily as the two of you eat, laughter mixing with the soft clink of silverware. Bruce is more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him—his usually guarded demeanor slipping just enough to reveal glimpses of the man behind the mask.
But just as dessert is being served, the lights flicker—and suddenly, the room is plunged into darkness.
"That’s odd," Bruce mutters, standing immediately. "Stay here. I’ll check the breakers."
Before he can even leave, chaos erupts.
From the hallway, Damian’s sharp voice cuts through the dark. "Grayson, stop bumping into me! You’re going to break something."
Tim appears next, holding his phone up like a flashlight. "Did Gotham’s most powerful man forget to pay his electric bill?" he asks, smirking.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Not now, Tim."
Then comes Dick, cheerfully stumbling in with a handful of candles. "Who needs power when we have ambiance? Romantic, right?" he says with a wink, grinning at you.
"Romantic?" Damian scoffs, stepping into the room and giving you a critical once-over. "Father, your standards are slipping."
"Damian," Bruce growls in warning, his tone sharp.
The teasing only escalates when Jason arrives, flashlight in hand, shining it directly at Bruce’s face. "Relax, Bats. Power outages build character. And hey, it’s not my fault you didn’t warn them about the chaos they were signing up for."
Bruce shoots him a glare that would terrify anyone else, but Jason just smirks and leans back against the doorframe.
In the midst of the family’s antics, Bruce is uncharacteristically quiet, his focus flickering between them and you. When the others drift off to investigate the outage—arguing and teasing each other the whole way—Bruce returns to your side, the shadows from his flashlight dancing across his face.
"Sorry about all of this," he says, voice low and almost hesitant. "I wanted tonight to be
 better. Less chaotic."
"Bruce," you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. "This? It’s perfect. It’s you—all of you. I don’t think I’d want it any other way."
His gaze lingers on you, and for a moment, the weight he carries seems to ease. "You’re something else," he murmurs, almost to himself.
As he steps closer, the space between you shrinks, the candlelight casting a golden glow over his features. You feel his hand brush yours—a tentative, unguarded gesture—and when your fingers intertwine, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
"Next time," he says softly, his voice a low promise, "I’ll make sure it’s just us."
"Next time," you agree, your smile warm.
The power finally comes back on, the lights revealing Damian glaring at Jason, Dick grinning triumphantly, and Tim tinkering with the breaker box. Alfred breezes into the room as if nothing unusual has happened, asking if anyone would like a fresh pot of tea.
Bruce lets out a quiet sigh, giving your hand one last squeeze before releasing it.
As the family chaos continues around you, Bruce’s attention remains on you—his expression soft, his smile rare and private, meant only for you. And as much as you enjoy seeing this side of him, you can’t help but look forward to the quiet moments when it’ll be just the two of you.
(God Damian is a little shi-)
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obsessedwithstarwars · 2 years ago
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I love this SO MUCH!!!
Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 18
BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz
[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]
Based on this post
First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>
---
“Are you still mad at me?”
Jason sighed. “I’m not mad.”
She didn’t like his answer, but contained herself. Like she did all the thousand times in the last hour.
“I promise I’m not mad.”
Her eyes were deep turquoise pools without end. He usually didn’t feel analyzed when she looked at him, she was very firm on never using her skills on him despite joking about not being a good doctor; but now he could almost feel her poke around in his head. He didn’t like it.
“I was mad, but I‘m not anymore. Promise.”
She liked that answer even less than the other one. “I’m sorry.”
She was being honest. Like she had been the first thousand times she apologized.
It wasn’t about being sorry or being mad with her. It was just—
“I shouldn’t have said yes without asking.”
He stopped walking, took a deep breath and turned to look at his girlfriend. She was twisting the hem of her blouse, her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyebrows furrowed. He had no doubt that Jazz was sorry about making that deal with Bruce the previous day, but it didn’t mean that her actions didn’t hurt.
He ignored the pinch in his chest.
Jazz was not like his family, he tried to remind himself once more. She didn’t act because she thought she knew what he wanted better than him, or because she was so sure she was in the right that she wouldn’t waste time asking him if he agreed.
The moment Bruce was out of that window she looked at him with wide eyes. “I fucked up,” she had said without hesitation, throwing him off the spiraling thoughts of betrayal.
How he was feeling was probably written in his face, he had no doubt. Sure, the Pit wasn’t clouding his thoughts — and it hasn’t done so in a while, not even when he thought that Jazz had used him as a guinea pig with the Lazarus Waters — but even with a clear head he was still not okay.
They had talked. For hours.
Figures that his first real argument with his girlfriend would be Bruce’s fault — he was not counting the whole drama of that week as a “couple’s argument".
Jazz's usual ramblings, which in any other situation would be endearing, was then grating to his ears. Excuse after excuse, she kept explaining, or trying to, that she thought he needed to go to that dinner. That his problems with Bruce, while valid, shouldn’t deny him a relationship with the others. That she would be there and could act as a shield—
He had to stop her right there.
It was an awful lot of assumptions, he told her. She didn’t even know about his past, he growled.
That made her stop. “You are right, I don’t. I wish to know, when you want to tell me. I want to know everything about you.” She finally looked him in the eyes properly. “But I still think that deep inside you want to go to the dinner.”
He wanted to go. He wanted to see Alfred and see his second childhood home (the nicer one) and meet the new people in the family.
She knew he wanted to go, because she was one of the few people in the world that could see past his tough guy exterior and actually made an effort to see what was inside.
Still, he would like it if next time, his girlfriend didn’t make a decision for him. He told her so and the argument ended in a better tone, with a hug and soft kiss goodnight.
Why was Jazz insisting again, you ask?
“You shouldn’t have, no. But you apologized and I think I’ve told you to not apologize if nobody was hurt. I’m fine. Shall we go to that damn dinner?” He gestured towards the elevator, and of course Jazz didn’t move.
She stopped biting her lip, but her hands kept torturing the hem of her blouse.
“You don’t look fine.”
Okay. Not only were they going to that stupid dinner because of her, but they were going to be late because of her as well.
He sighed, rubbing his face.
ïżœïżœWell I’m perfectly okay. Can we please get moving?”
Jazz frowned, like he just kicked a puppy or something.
“Danny always—”
“Well I’m not Danny!”
The silence was only broken by the echo of his shout in the empty hallway. It was only then that he noticed he was breathing heavily.
Jason stopped, straightened his back and took a deep breath. Only then he looked back at Jazz, finding those hurt eyes that he had only seen back at his other safehouse, when he accused her of so many horrible things.
The image of a bruised wrist passed behind his eyes.
He was not his father. Either of them.
“Listen—”
“I’m—”
Both stopped talking, looking at each other in a tense silence.
When she didn’t say anything else, he continued. “I’m not your brother, Jazz. I understand that you feel sorry and I understand why you jumped like that. Yes, I’m upset, but I just— I don’t need a talk about feelings right now, ok?”
She processed his words for a moment.
“You need time.” It wasn’t a question.
“I— Yes.”
She tilted her head. “Time away from ‘us’?”
“What? No!” What the actual fuck? “No, I just got you back, why would I want to be apart from you?”
Jazz’s cheeks tinted a bit red just as she looked down at her hands, finally letting go of the piece of clothing.
“Just wanted to check,” she said with a small shrug, still looking down. “Didn’t want to assume things.”
This made him chuckle.
“You are silly.”
At least she was smiling when she looked up at him. “Can I hug you?”
Instead of an answer, Jason walked towards her and pulled her into his chest, easily circling his arms around her body. It was comfortable and it felt right, having her so close. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo.
“We cool?” She asked against his chest.
He nodded, even if she wouldn’t be able to see it. “We cool.”
By the time they got to the bike, all the bad feelings had been replaced with tender kisses. Jazz offered to bail on the dinner and blame it on her if necessary, but at that point Jason was so fed up with the stupid dinner he wanted to go out of spite.
The ride was uneventful, Jazz’s long dress pants and heeled sandals weren’t a problem to ride a motorbike.
They made the trip to the Manor in silence, Jason’s mind disconnected from the motions as familiar landscape passed by them at high speed. It has been a while since he climbed the hills towards Bristol, but he couldn’t remember if the last time was when he brought that first edition to Alfred so he knew he was alive, or if there was a more recent instance.
In any case, the familiar shape of Wayne Manor was impossible to miss, nor were the empty roads that were far from civilization and the common people living in the rest of the city.
Jason expected to feel rage, to feel dread, to feel the painful anticipation before facing something that you really don’t want to experience — but as troubling thoughts started to plague his mind, he felt strong but gentle arms tighten around his waist, not giving the thoughts enough time to settle in his mind.
That’s right, he wasn’t alone. He didn’t need to face things alone. Not anymore.
The silence was broken as he parked close to the door and both got out of the vehicle.
“It’s
 big.”
He snorted at her comment. “Don’t let the opulence get to you.”
Jazz hummed in thought. “Oh it doesn’t. Is not my first time in a mansion this big.” She turned to look at him with a little smile. “I haven’t told you about the time we lived in a mansion?”
He chuckled as he stored the helmets away. “Sounds like a fun story. Wanna share with the class?”
Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and he knew she was considering if she needed to lie to him. It didn’t hurt that much, especially not now that he knew why she needed to measure her words.
“The GIW paid my parents an absurd amount of money in exchange of our house and all the ghost hunting technology. Danny was thrilled, of course, since he always wanted to be rich. We had our own butler and everything.” She sighed dramatically. “It ended quickly when Danny found out that what the GIW truly wanted was access to the portal to nuke the Ghost Zone. He barely stopped them in time and the day was saved once again.”
“Nuke the Ghost Zone?” He asked as they started walking towards the Manor. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Very. The Ghost Zone, or the Infinite Realms, are like
 what was the word?” Jazz thought about it for a moment, one finger on her lips with smudged pale pink lipstick. Which reminded him to check that he didn’t have lipstick stains on his face. He would never live that down. “It is like
 a mirror dimension of this one! Yes, that was the thing. Anyway, if that one is destroyed, this one goes as well.”
He lifted an eyebrow, stopping right at the front door. “You guys have dealt with crazy stuff, haven't you?”
Her smile was tired. “You have no idea.”
There was more she wanted to say, but both knew it wasn’t the moment or the place. There was so much pain, so many secrets, in her teal eyes that he wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. Had she been hiding all of that from him? Of course she had, she was good and hiding and lying. Jazz was burdened by secrets that weren’t her own and a past she couldn’t share.
Once again she reminded him so much of Dick, and how his brother was all smiles and circus tricks to distract you from the pain Jason could see in his eyes when Dick thought nobody was looking. He knew there were things his brother wasn’t telling him, and he never pressed. Everybody had their secrets. Even him. Even his girlfriend.
But, unlike with his brother, Jason wanted to know those secrets — not to make sure she was not a supervillain, but because he wanted to carry that burden with her. It hurt to see her in pain. He wanted to take away her sorrows so she didn’t have to look like this.
Jason cupped her face with one hand, for once not worrying about his calloused palm being rough on her soft skin. She leaned into the touch.
He put his other hand on her waist, leaning in for a last kiss. She eagerly placed her hands on his chest, responding to the kiss with a little smile against his lips. He felt her sigh and melt into his arms, all worrying thoughts escaping her mind this time.
He may not be able to take away all her sorrows, but he was happy to distract her from them for the moment.
When they parted, he saw a curtain quickly be closed in a nearby window.
He sighed, knowing that it was showtime.
“Ready?”
At her nod, he rang the bell.
Of course, the door was opened immediately. Alfred had been waiting behind the closed door, with half the family standing there, trying to not make it obvious they've been eavesdropping.
“Welcome,” the butler said with a smile. Jason answered with one of his own, happy to see the old man. “May I take your coats?”
Jazz hid her nervousness as she gave her denim jacket to the butler, softly introducing herself to him.
“Jason.”
He looked up, finding Bruce standing there with a stupid turtleneck and sensible jeans, selling the whole “dad” thing. He kept an open and non-aggressive stance, with a small smile. He even wore stupid superhero slippers.
“Bruce.”
Jazz came back to the tense silence, tapping him on the shoulder.
“Your jacket, dear?”
He looked away from Bruce and took off his jacket, deciding to not give it to the man to ruin this night for him and his girlfriend. Jazz deserved to have a good time, and he would not be the one that fucks this up for her.
“Jasmine—”
“Jazz is fine,” her smile was polite, although not as warm as the ones she gave him. “Thank you for inviting us.”
It was a charged sentence, of course, since Bruce never intended to actually personally invite anyone — he always sent Dick to mediate between them. And they only accepted to come after he fucked up so bad he had to make a deal to even start apologizing.
He knew. They knew. The others knew.
Jason snorted.
He loved his girlfriend to bits.
“So
”
Everyone turned to look at Dick, who was smiling in that specific way. The one where he was trying hard to become a distraction.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“She knows who you are.”
“Well, maybe she wants to have a more formal introduction, given the circumstances.”
“She is right here.”
Now everyone looked at Jazz, who didn’t seem amused at being talked over like she wasn’t there.
“Right. Okay.” Jason sighed dramatically and got ready for grating night. “Jazz, these are Dickolas, Timbit, and Bruce, who you have already met.” He vaguely made a gesture towards them. Tim was biting his lips, trying not to laugh. “This is Alfred,” he put a hand on his shoulder, smiling when the older man placed one of his gloved hands over his, “he taught me how to cook.”
Jazz’s eyes widened when she made the connection — right, he had scarcely talked about his childhood that dinner when they kissed for the first time.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Alfred said with a slight bow.
She answered with one of her own. “The pleasure is all mine. Jason has talked a lot about you.”
He hadn’t, right? Now he couldn’t remember exactly how much he had told her.
To hide his blush, he continued. “And this is Cass.” He pointed at the silent and observant figure of Cassandra next to Bruce. “She is—”
“Black Bat.”
Cass smiled broadly at Jazz’s words, nodding and approaching her to sneak her arms around her before anybody could stop her. She pet Jazz’s long red hair a few times before letting her go.
“Welcome.” She said.
Jazz blinked in confusion for a moment before smiling back.
“Thanks!”
Both smiled at each other for a few moments, his girlfriend’s shoulders finally relaxing. She was nervous, he knew, and she was hiding it well. Did Cass notice that as well?
She was some of the few he interacted less with, and he didn’t know her as much as the others. From his investigation he knew who she was and where she came from, what she was capable of and why she didn’t kill; but he had never seen her without her suit, or from this close. Black Bat was a shadow, barely seen but always there.
But Cassandra was all smiles when she took Jazz’s hand in hers and pulled her further into the house with a skip in her step, visibly excited to meet the new person.
“The others are in the living room.” Alfred answered Jason’s unasked question. “Dinner will be served in an hour.”
With that, he disappeared through a door and went probably to the kitchen to finish preparing everything.
Right.
Dinner.
“Everything alright?” Tim’s question brought him back to the group already walking away from him. He rushed to Jazz’s side.
“Uh?” Jazz’s attention snapped back to Tim, her eyes had been fixed on a corner in the ceiling. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
Tim glanced at Jason with a slight frown, silently asking if he knew what’s up. “You seem distracted.”
He hadn’t even finished his sentence and Jazz was already looking away, this time up the giant stairs that went to the east and west wings of the Manor. Her eyes on the door toward the East Wing, the Family Wing.
“Darling?” Jason gently touched her side.
“I’m
” Her eyes moved with intention, like they were following something running down the stairways and towards the hallway to the left. “Is just
”
When her eyes started to water, Jason pulled on her arm and made her stop. Something was up, he was sure of it.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, I
” with her free hand she wiped the tears away. “It’s— This house has belonged to the family for generations, right?”
Everyone looked at Bruce, who tilted his head. “Yes. Why is that important?”
Ah, Bruce. Always demanding.
“Well, huh.” She sighed, wiping away more tears, careful to not smudge her eyeliner too much. “There’s no easy way to say this but
 The place is haunted.”
As she said it, she glanced behind Bruce, narrowing her eyes. There was nothing there, of course. Nothing except—
“Ghosts?”
“Yeah, that’s what haunted means.”
Dick rolled his eyes at the answer. “I mean, are there ghosts here?”
Jason didn’t miss Tim’s nervous look at Bruce, or how the man looked around, wary.
“There are ghosts everywhere in this damn city.” She chuckled. “But this place feels like
 You know when a cursed place feels wrong? Like you don’t need to know the backstory to know something bad happened there?”
Everyone tensed. Jazz wiped more tears.
“Well, this place is like that, but the opposite. So many lives, so many—” More tears flowed down her face, but she didn’t seem sad. She frowned like she was getting pretty annoyed. “Damn it!” She turned on her heels and glared at the empty stairs. “Yes, I can see you! And hear you! Stop making a show!”
Jason felt it. He didn’t know how, but he felt like something that was there had fled away at the woman’s words.
“Thank you!” She huffed, straightening her back and wiping her wet hands on the hem of her blouse. “So rude!” She shook her head in disbelief, finally turning back to them. “I’m sorry, what was I saying?”
Jason was the one that recovered first. Yes. His girlfriend could see ghosts. That was normal. Just one more thing to the list.
“What did you see?”
Did she see Bruce’s parents? They didn’t die in the Manor, but

“I couldn’t say
 Not every ghost maintains their form when they are created, and these didn’t.” She smiled, apologetic. “They were very chatty, though. I’m sorry.”
There was a moment of silence, broken when Tim clicked his tongue.
“Well, that’s surely something that happened.”
“Uh
”
“So my house is haunted?”
Jazz blinked. “You’ve never noticed? Have you never felt the protection magic around the house? Even mortals are capable of detecting ghost magic, especially as strong as this one is.”
Dick mouthed “ghost magic”, flabbergasted.
“No. I can’t say that I have.” Bruce answered slowly. “If I show you photos, could you identify the ghosts?”
Cass pulled the hand she was still holding and hugged Jazz close to her chest and away from Bruce. “No work talk.”
“Right, um,” he cleared his throat, suddenly very uncomfortable, “sorry about that. Tonight is supposed to be a normal family dinner.”
Jason wondered how many lectures he had gotten before they arrived. He still found it funny that his apology had been coached via comms — sad, but funny. It wasn’t surprising that the old man was incapable of offering an honest apology on his own.
They continued walking, Jazz now more present than before, offering casual explanations about what she was used to with ghosts, why she was crying — she laughed, saying that it was her body’s way of reacting to ghostly presence — and that she had been planning on setting up a protection spell but this was stronger than whatever she could do anyway.
Soon they were in the main living area, the voices of the others bouncing out of the door. Jason recognized the place — that’s where the gaming console was when he was little, and where Bruce usually sat to read with him after school and before patrol.
The memories weren’t as painful as he thought they would be. Sad, of course, given that those moments were from a life he couldn’t get back no matter how much he wished for it.
But the room wasn’t the same quiet haven he remembered. Someone was arguing loudly while someone else was laughing, and sounds coming from the TV, probably a video game, were blasting from speakers.
It was the same place, but at the same time it wasn’t.
Jazz didn’t draw attention to him when he picked her free hand and interlaced their fingers, she kept talking with Dick about something regarding her gymnastics class.
“Oh, hey!” Bernard, Tim’s boyfriend, was the first one that noticed them arrive. He stood up and walked towards Tim, extending his hand to shake Jazz’s. “Hello, I’m Bernard.”
She shook it, confused. “You are
?”
“Tim’s boyfriend.”
She finally made the connection, smiling. “Ah, I remember reading about you.”
“I hope not in those stupid tabloids.”
“That and when I looked up the Dyonysus cult.”
Bernard blushed deep red, quickly withdrawing his hand. “Listen—”
“Hey I’m not judging you. I wasn’t even looking for you,” she laughed. “I just did a research of all the occult stuff happening in Gotham before I moved here.”
“You must have been researching for weeks.” Blondie number two jumped over the sofa she was lounging on and shouldered Bernard out of the way. “Stephanie Brown.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jazz shook the offered hand. “Spoiler?” She asked for confirmation.
“Yup!” The woman beamed. “It’s so nice to have another girl around. Jason should have gotten braver and asked you out before.”
“Hey.”
Jazz looked uncomfortable for a second. “Things happen when they need to happen.” She looked at him, her eyes full of worry. “I— I haven’t told you yet, but I may have found out about you that night?”
This made him stop. “What?”
“Yeah.”
“And you still said yes?”
She blushed, looking away. “Yeah.”
He remembered her flirting back, how she blushed easier than usual, how she looked at him when he finally said the words. His speech had been pathetic and yet she had looked like he hung the moon and stars.
Had she known he was Red Hood then? And she said yes?
“You are weird.”
She chuckled, getting on the tip of her toes to kiss him on the cheek, the hand entwined with his squeezing for a second.
Someone clicked their tongue, the sound clearly displeased. Jazz jumped back to put a bit of space between them, suddenly very aware of their audience.
“Dami, be nice.” Dick said in a tired tone.
“I just don’t see what’s so interesting about her. Is a civilian who just happens to be involved in the supernatural.”
“She can see ghosts!”
“No way!” The last person to introduce themselves, Duke, stood up from where he had been sitting on the floor, leaving his controller aside. “You can see them too?”
“Ah, metahuman, right?” Jazz’s smile was wide. “Signal.”
“Yeah!”
“And you can see ghosts?”
“I can see
 well, I call it ‘ghost vision’ but maybe it is not the same thing as you do,” he chuckled, quickly shaking her hand. “I can see auras and a bit on how they move in the past and in the future.”
“You can see the future???”
Aaaaand they lost her. Jazz’s eyes glowed with excitement, ditching Jason to follow Duke to the sofa and sit down to ask him a myriad of questions. She tried not to be too invasive, but he knew she would start asking about his childhood soon.
He sat down next to her, not acknowledging the others as they stood around either on the other sofas, the loveseat or on the floor. They were very obviously looking at him like he was an animal in a zoo, waiting, comparing.
This was exactly what sickened about coming to the Manor — they weren’t looking at him when he was there. Each had a mental image of “Jason Todd” and struggled to match it with the person he actually was. Or, in the case of Bruce, he was still trying to find the little boy that died.
The walls started to feel too narrow, the room too small for him, when he felt a soft touch on the back of his hand. He looked up, finding the smiling face of Jazz, his vision clearing around her.
“Right, Jay?”
He tried to mask his confusion. “About what.”
He saw the worry flash behind her eyes, but she quickly moved on. “About when I told you I saw your suit and I had to pretend I didn’t see anything.”
Oh right. When she drilled onto him about how to properly hide his stuff and how obvious he was.
“It’s not my fault you broke into a poor guy’s apartment late at night. You pervert.”
Her face went red immediately. “I— I didn’t—” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not the scoundrel that likes to break in through the window, like other people.”
“And whose fault is it? You refuse to get that damn lock.”
“I will do it when I do it!”
It was adorable how frustrated she got with the teasing. He couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his lips.
He didn’t care who was watching anymore, or if the others were trying to walk on eggshells around him. Jazz reminded him that it was okay to just be and he knew she would be in his corner if it came to it.
---
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#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc fanfic#dc x dp#friendly neighborhood vigilante#can you imagine all of the dinner conversations#it’s gonna be wild#jazz casually mentioning the dungeon in her parents basement#or how her house tries to kill her and her brother
 mostly her brother#and how her doctor is basically the abominable snowman frozen yeti thing#it’s complicated and she doesn’t know exactly what he is but he HELPS#or bringing up freakshow and why she doesn’t like clowns#or someone wishes something and she goes a little ballistic#OOOOOOOOOOOHHHH WHAT IF DANNY CRASHES THE DINNER#or they ask how she knows Vlad Masters and she says he’s her godfather#but their relationship needs work because he once drugged her and injected her with nanites so she’d be forced to kill her brother#but she eventually got Dani out of it so it balances out#The Batfam is slowly freaking out and trying not to show it#so is Jason but he’s also LOVING EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS#or they don’t even make it to dinner without Skulker/Fright Knight coming in to rescue their Princess/Queen Regent from the bat’s clutches#or Bruce called Clark to drop in unexpectedly to question Jazz after dinner#or Constantine interrupts and Bruce shows Jazz the cave#she’s not impressed but does give a few helpful tips#meanwhile Constantine is like wtf is the Princess of the Infinite Realms doing in your lair BATMAN#this got away from me#point is I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE WHAT’S NEXT
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nikkento-writes · 3 months ago
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It starts with a distasteful joke from Gojo. "I bet Nanami's pretty vanilla in bed, am I right?" He nudges you playfully as he sips on his lychee mocktail in the restaurant. Your boyfriend excused himself to use the bathroom and Ieiri went out for a smoke, leaving you alone with Gojo, who you met for the first time just a little over an hour ago.
You're shocked that he'd even ask such a personal question, especially since your relationship with Nanami is still four-months fresh. Unsure how to respond, you simply laugh, not answering. When he continues to stare at you through his blindfold, your smile falters. "You're being serious?"
He smirks, clearly egging you on. "I just can't imagine our little strait-laced salary man being very fun in the sack. No offense."
You're torn between changing the subject all together into something less inappropriate and defending your lover's honor. And unfortunately for you, as the anger inside you begins to bubble at Gojo's tactless words, you choose the latter. "If you must know, he's very, very fun in the sack." You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. 
He shrugs, the shit-eating grin still on his face. "I just can't see it. But as long as you're satisfied, that's all that matters."
"I am very satisfied, thank you very much!" you emphasize, cheeks hot now, annoyed. Before you explode on him, Nanami and Ieiri return, so you try to contain your rage as much as possible throughout the rest of dinner.
You intend to keep his outrageous comments to yourself, not wanting to start any unnecessary drama, especially with Nanami who is above this type of ridiculousness. But remembering Gojo's smug expression makes you irate all over again. That night, while you're cuddling with Nanami, you share the story. "So, Gojo said something funny to me while you were in the bathroom." As you recount the short conversation from earlier, you keep it light-hearted, laughing about it as if it doesn't grind your gears (which it does). In all honestly, your sex life with Nanami is amazing, and while it's nobody's business but your own, you can't help being bothered that certain people think otherwise. 
When you're done, Nanami doesn't respond right away, processing it all before he speaks. "Interesting." His voice is steady, though you can sense a hint of annoyance in his tone. "He's an idiot," he adds, holding you closer, grazing his lips on your forehead. 
You giggle, snuggling into his chest. "I know."
"But...you are satisfied, right?"
The waver of uncertainty in his voice breaks your heart and you almost regret telling him. "Of course I am! You know I am!" you answer confidently, peering up at him.
He kisses your forehead. "You promise?"
Grabbing both his cheeks, you smooch him on the lips. "I promise."
Gentle kisses soon turn into sloppy ones as Nanami rolls on top of you, surrounding you in his strong and muscular body. It happens quickly; the blanket is shrugged off, clothes are stripped and scattered on the floor, your legs are spread wide for him as he eats you out voraciously, proving how much fun he can be in bed. He makes you orgasm twice like this, getting it nice and wet for his hard cock, throbbing in his fist as he strokes it. “Ride me,” he demands, laying on his back, licking his lips while you mount him.
You oblige, sinking down on his cock slowly, adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Kento,” you whine, wiggling on his lap until he bottoms out.
“Feels good, huh sweetheart?” He traces your mouth with his thumb, teasing it.
“Yes. So fucking good.” You suck on his fingers, rocking back and forth on his lap. 
He fucks you like this, his feet planted on the bed, bucking his hips up into you at a steady pace. Suddenly, his phone rings, interrupting for a moment. He glances at it, his expression tensing, showing you the name displayed on the screen: Gojo Satoru.
"Answer it," you say, grinding on him with a wicked smile on your face. "Prove him wrong."
For a split-second, he looks at you like you're crazy. But something in him snaps, probably the same thing that made you so angry earlier. Sometimes, you just want to prove yourself right. 
He picks up the phone, putting it on speaker. Gojo's voice rings out. "Nanami, I feel terrible. I said some inappropriate things to your girl - "
"Fuck me, Kento," you whine, bouncing on his lap as he thrusts up into you faster, entire body hot and electric with pleasure. 
Nanami has the phone in one hand and the other that was just in your mouth playing with your clit now. Through labored breaths, he says, "Sorry Gojo, I'm a bit busy being an absolute bore in bed. Isn't that right, kitten?" 
He holds the phone closer to you while you moan your boyfriend's name, your third climax of the night approaching quickly. "Kento, Kento, fuck me Kento!”
Satisfied, Nanami sets the phone down on the bed, gripping your hips to pound up into you, the squelching of his cock pummeling into your wet cunt so erotic and lewd. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna breed this slutty little pussy.” Over the edge now, he shoots his load inside you, letting out his own husky moans. He hastily lifts you off him to eat you out one last time, his cum leaking down from your cunt onto his chin as he sucks on your swollen clit until you come on his face, moaning obscenities incessantly. Completely spent now, you pull off him to cuddle, kissing each other messily as you both come down from your high. 
"Ahem." Gojo's voice startles you as you realize that neither he nor Nanami bothered to hang up the call. Horrified, the two of you wait with bated breath for his response, noting the suggestive ruffling in the background. "I apologize. I stand corrected."
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yawnderu · 1 year ago
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Currently thinking about neighbor!Simon with a sweet thing who keeps shamelessly flirting with him.
Ghost, the soldier who has been basing his life in self-control and discipline, knocked down a peg or two by his younger neighbor. He doesn't even respond to the flirting, simply replying with a grunt or a "thanks" so quiet you can barely even hear it before he disappears into his house.
Neighbor!Simon, who initially moved to your quiet neighborhood for some peace and quiet— and he gets just that, with one glaring exception.
Neighbor!Simon, who is forced to listen to your moans and whines as you bounce up and down a dildo, filthy nonsense escaping your lips whenever it hits a sensitive spot.
Neighbor!Simon, who seemed amused about it at first and ignored it, but after a few times started feeling his jeans tighten up.
Neighbor!Simon, who cups his throbbing boner over his jeans, trying his best to stop himself from jerking off, yet your whiny moans are taking away any semblance of self-respect he has.
Neighbor!Simon, who timed his strokes with the sounds of your squelching cunt, imagining it's him going in and out of you.
Neighbor!Simon, who pathetically came all over his stomach when you moaned out his name, filthy and overly loud words leaving your lips because you know he can hear you.
Neighbor!Simon, who since then was less of a Ghost in his own neighborhood, actually trying to reply to your attempts at making conversation with him.
Neighbor!Simon, who told you one of his awful dad jokes just to hear the loudest sigh ever, the corners of his lips threatening to tug up at your reaction.
Neighbor!Simon, who eventually started tagging along for anything you did— Grocery shopping? Paying bills? Going to the park? Shopping? He's coming with you, claiming there's lots of creeps around.
Neighbor!Simon, who accepted your offers for dinner, looking at you moving around the kitchen and helping you, imagining you're his pretty little wife.
Neighbor!Simon, who got enough courage to kiss you after being 100% sure you were interested in him.
Neighbor!Simon, who couldn't keep the surprise from showing on his face when during one of your make out sessions, you took him to your bedroom.
Neighbor!Simon, who was a groaning mess underneath you as you rode him, calloused hands holding onto your hips with a bruising grip.
'' 'S what you wanted all along, love?'' He manages to grunt out between his deep groans and moans, hypnotized by the way your tits bounce while your tight cunt takes all of him.
''Since I first saw you.'' You reply with honesty, leg muscles tired from riding him, but his thick cock feels way too good to even think about stopping.
''Good girl.'' He praises, eyes closing as his hips start to thrust up, meeting you halfway while you bounce on his cock, angling up your ass so he hits a more sensitive spot that has you moaning on top of him, his grip on your hips going to your ass while he moves your smaller body up and down his cock, thrusts getting rougher while you finally collapse on top of him.
''Cum inside.'' His hips falter for a moment as he looks at you with raised eyebrows, your hushed confirmation of being on birth control enough to keep him going even harder, driving himself into your cunt at an unlawful pace, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he thrusted deeply, the room filled with the smell of sex, walls bouncing with the sounds of your combined desperate moans as he shoved himself as deep as he could, filling your womb with his thick, fertile cum. It doesn't matter if you're on birth control, his seed is much stronger.
Husband!Simon, who got to come home from deployment to his missus, stomach swollen with his baby.
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writersdrug · 2 months ago
Text
Someone sent an anonymous ask about Soap being all whiny and jealous, complaining to Simon about how lucky he is to have such a pretty, curvy girl and Tumblr swallowed it đŸ˜« (This is gonna be a 2 parter)
Warnings: nsfw, threesome, sub soap and reader, dom ghost, training, voyeurism
But I can imagine Ghost would be so sick and tired of it. Johnny's constantly yapping like the mutt he truly is: "Yer a lucky man, LT. Findin' a pretty bird like that." "Where'd ye get her? Need to find one for myself." "She as soft as she sounds?"
Ghost wants to snap at him for talking about you like that - he shouldn't be talking about you at all. But he knows the poor man is just lonely, aching to have something soft and supple like you. Your smiling face smushed between Ghost's fingers when you come to drop off the lunch he forgot. The jeans that fit snuggly around your ass and thighs, the shirt that hugs the swell of your breasts, stretched thin as it barely contains them... poor Johnny boy can't help but whine at the sight of something so appetizing, so soft and warm right there - he's jealous of his LT. How did someone so hard around the edges pluck something so sweet?
Simon hates to see him so upset, pouting in the corner like a scolded puppy as you stare at your boyfriend with stars in your eyes. Johnny could have a girl, but he gets overeager: fucking them on the first date, leaving them sore and bitten and tearful. He's too rough, and they're quick to excuse themselves, fleeing the next morning and blocking him from all social media.
Johnny needs to learn to be patient and gentle with his toys. He's nice enough to let the sergeant practice with his own pretty girl, and you're more than happy to assist Soap with his green-eyed monster.
After a nice dinner at his LT's house, served by you - along with some bronze, liquid courage - Johnny sits on the recliner, chatting with Ghost, who's relaxed on the sofa. You enter the living room and stand next to Simon, biting your lip excitedly and staring between the two of them. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to sit on the arm of the sofa.
"Y' think she's pretty?" He asks Johnny, who blinks.
Gorgeous. Comely. Ravishing. "Course I do." He responds plainly, trying not to get worked up over the way you're perched next to his LT so prettily.
"Yea, you do..." Simon mutters, squeezing the flesh at your thigh. "What's it you said? 'She must look nice, spillin' out my hands’?"
Soap is nothing short of mortified. His eyes are wide, staring back at Simon - he doesn't know what to say. He said those things within the secrecy of his conversation with his lieutenant - he didn't expect him to repeat it outside of that bubble, let alone in front of you, the person in question.
"N' what else was it? 'Need t' have a pretty li'l wife with a rack like that to lay my head-"
"Simon!!"
Soap finally glares at his LT, his fingers digging into his own thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is Ghost trying to get you to hate him?
You giggle and stand upright. "It's ok, Johnny." You coo, slowly walking over to him with your hands behind your back. "I like it. It means you like me."
Soap has little time to do anything but grunt when you swing a leg over his thighs and seat yourself in his lap. Your cleavage is right there, just inches from his face, and he can feel the bare skin of your thighs burning through his trousers.
"Help me take this off?" You tug at the skirt of your dress, looking down at him with those innocent, glossy eyes.
He can't breathe. His clothes are too hot and too tight, his cock nearly choking in the confines of his pants. He looks to his lieutenant for help - Ghost just smiles, like he's watching his favorite porn. He might be, depending on how this plays out.
"Go on, Johnny. Slowly."
Johnny wants to be anything but slow, once he realizes his best friend is showing you off like a collectible toy. He looks back up at you, watching the way your plump lip catches between your teeth. He carefully reaches around, grabbing the back of your neckline and tugging the zipper down - slowly, as he was instructed. He can barely focus on the movement with your breasts right there, imagining what they'd taste like between his warm lips. The shoulders of your dress fall away, revealing the lacy bra you're wearing. He looks up at you, drool pooling under his tongue as you slide your hands over his shoulders, one coming around to play with the base of his mohawk.
"You can take it off." You whisper.
He wastes no time, his hands smoothing up your back and unclasping your bra in one motion. He helps you pull it from your shoulders - your breasts, round and full, now pressing against his chest. He wants to touch. He needs to touch.
He shoots a hungry, pleading look to Ghost - he nods back at Soap, which is all the sergeant needs to absolve his filthy behavior. He closes your breast in his palm, eyes hazy as he takes your nipple into his warm mouth. He hardly has to move his head forward because you lean into his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair and your back arching deliciously. Johnny groans, using one hand to dig his fingers into the thick flesh at your hips, and his other to press his palm against your lower back. He shifts himself down as his tongue swirls around your nipple, groans leaving his throat and reverberating against the bud, quickly hardening from his ministrations. You sound so sweet, high-pitched coos and soft breaths pouring from between your lips as you press your weight against Soap, shoving your breast as far into his mouth as he can take. You kiss the crown of his head, whispering a good boy against his skin.
He practically whines, bucking his hips upwards, relishing in how your body grounds him into the sofa cushions. He releases your breast with a pop and quickly takes the other one into his hand, sealing his lips over it with a hum. He looks up at you through wanting, begging eyes as you toss your head back, squeezing your thighs around his hips. His tongue undulates against your stiffening peak, slobbering around the underside of your breast as he gives you another experimental jerk of his hips. You gasp, rolling your hips back down onto him and staring at him with your lust-blown pupils.
His cock is demanding to be let free. He's going to fuck you hard, he's going to pound you into the chair until you're begging, showing his LT just how much of a good boy he is. He's never felt this blazing forest fire within his veins, setting off nerve after nerve and burning a trail right down to his hard, throbbing member.
He hooks his fingers into the hem of your soaked panties, fully intending to rip them off - but you quickly grab his wrist and yank his hand away. He looks at you, blinking through his trance as a look of confusion settles on his face. "Wha's wrong?"
You giggle his expression - the sound goes straight to his tip with another rush of blood. "These are for Simon." you whisper, slowly pushing yourself off of Soap's lap. He lets his arms fall to his sides with a desperate look, letting you back away, right into Ghost's waiting lap.
"Gonna show ya a thing or two, Johnny." he says, pulling you back to his chest. "Teach ya a few tricks, maybe you'll be able t' keep a woman longer than a day." he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. The blade drags down over your belly - you chew your lip as it electrifies your skin, the tip sliding lower and lower until he's running it over your pussy. The fabric is soaked as he lingers there, the sharp edge barely separated from your cunt by your flimsy, drenched panties.
You stare at Soap, not once breaking eye contact as Ghost slices through the fabric. Soap's mouth is agape in disbelief and lust, enamored by the sight before him. He can't tear his eyes from the view of your sopping, glistening pussy, watching as Simon slides his thick fingers over your folds. He catches his thumb under the hood of your clit and you jolt, shooting a hand down to grab his wrist - but he doesn't stop. You whine and mewl, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he flicks the bud, strumming over it slowly.
He stares Soap in the eyes, watching his reaction. "Alright there, Johnny?"
He's drooling, mouth hung open, hypnotized by the way your muscles clench with each stroke of Simon’s thumb. “
 Aye
” he manages to say – his fingers dig into the cushions beneath him as he tries to control the urge to tear across the room and drive his cock into your cunt, fucking you against his lieutenant’s chest the way you deserve: rough and hard. Simon’s been teasing you too long; you need to be ravaged, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, faster than you can think.
“Let me have a go, yea?” he says boldly, looking at Simon with desperation. “That’s what this is, right? Ye want me to fuck ‘er nice? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, sir – I’ll take good care of her-“
“No you won’t.” Simon interjects before the dog can get too riled up. His fingers are now strumming up and through your folds, and you’re panting and staring at Johnny with needy desire. “’S why you can’t keep anyone. You’re too eager.”
The truth shoots through Soap’s chest like an arrow, and he meets Simon’s gaze. He’s obviously rock-hard in his trousers, he won’t even attempt to hide it. Simon’s got a cocky, knowing smirk on his face, and you
 poor you is just wishing Simon would spit out what he wants to say, so the three of you could get on with the show.
“Gonna teach you a few secrets, sergeant.” Simon says, and Soap isn’t sure what to think about having his rank used in this situation. “My girl needs to cum.” He pulls his fingers away from you – you whine in frustration, but are quickly silenced when two, thick digits are stuffed into your mouth. You obediently clean off your own slick with your tongue, looking back down at Johnny with a heavy, lidded stare.
“I’ll make her cum.” Soap says quickly. If this is a matter of whether or not he can make someone cum, he’ll pass that test easily.
“You’ll do it right.” Simon growls. “Need to understand the difference between getting’ your cock wet and pleasuring ‘er. ‘S my girl ‘n I won’t have you roughhousing ‘er. Got it?”
Soap’s throat bobs as he swallows. It was another task, another order from his superior. He clears his mind of any preprogrammed, lustful thoughts, sent straight to his brain from his achingly hard member – this wasn’t about him. It was about following instructions. He was a good soldier, he could do that much.
“Yes sir.”
Simon nods. He shifts hips, pulling his fingers from your lipsand grabbing your hips. You grab his forearms for support as he spreads his muscular thigs, forcing your legs farther apart as they rest on either side of his knees. Slick dribbles down from your pussy and onto Simon’s length, which is about to tear a hole through his pants.
“Then get to it. Sick of hearin’ you yap all day about not bein’ able to keep a girl. Put your mouth to good use – we’re about to fix that.”
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ghouljams · 10 days ago
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More thoughts about CEO!Price's horrible assistant that hates him.
Youre forced to admit that the man might actually be competent when you're forced to sit through two days of meetings. Taking minutes on your company issue laptop while the C suite goes through the brand refresh and the fiscal year. Team leaders keep showing up at pre-planned times to present on what their section of the company will be doing, and Mr. Price always has a good question or helpful remark to guide the conversation. It's actually astonishing to see the man do work that requires any amount of brain power considering you were under the impression he was using every brain cell to annoy you.
He doesn't even glance your way in the 36 hours of meetings, dinners, and happy hours that you helped the internal events team organize months ago. It's like the holidays came early. Except the gift is that you don't have to submit an HR complaint into the voice for a whole week. Not that you'd have any time to do that with how much you're running around.
The problem with being competent at your job, you suppose, is that you actually have to do your job.
You end up spacing out by the end of the last presentation, your fingers numbly tapping at your keyboard as your eyes lose focus. Your eyelids feel especially heavy this afternoon, and you can't stop the gentle dip of your head as you try to keep from nodding off. You were up until 3am last night prepping for the all hands meeting tomorrow morning. Not to mention the all-nighters you've been pulling just to make sure Mr. Price has talking points for today. (You should've passed this off to marketing but God they're just so swamped.)
You barely notice the heavy hand that settles too high on your thigh to be work place appropriate. Your body is so warm, your head burning from lack of sleep, your laptop screen wavers in your vission, and a neatly trimmed beard scratches your cheek as Mr. Price leans close.
"Why don't you go lay down in my office sweet'eart." He tells you, the low rhythmic cadence of his voice makes your eyes drop. His thumb sweeps a slow circle against the inside of your thigh, pushing at the hem of your skirt.
Your head nods for you. Mr. Price's free hand shuts your laptop, the motion slow and purposeful, plenty of time to object(and move your fingers). You should object, but your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth. It's all you can do to raise your gaze off your closing screen to meet him. He squeezes your thigh and your eyes blink too heavily, your head starting to loll to the side.
"Go on, no help to anyone dead on your feet." He pushes, nodding his head towards the door.
"Sorry," you relent, standing to smile at the group of men who wouldn't know your name if it killed them. They barely seem to have noticed your presence. Mr. Price hums, his hand smoothing over your hip as you turn to go.
"Good girl," he purrs. You assume he must be holding himself back around an audience. The same way you assume you're imagining the squeeze to your ass that he gives you before you're out the door.
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derealizationns · 13 days ago
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"intimacy"
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characters - katsuki bakugou x fem reader
synopsis - katsuki’s tough facade crumbles as soon as you two are together, and he loves every second of it.
genre - fluff!!! so much fluff đŸ„č
warnings - none đŸ«§
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katsuki loves intimacy. he definitely won’t show it, but he’s all for it. that boy is so used to being tough and everything, that it makes him crave those tender and gentle moments.
just imagine simple things like making dinner. the world seems silent, the only things you can hear are the shuffles of yours and katsuki’s slippers and the raindrops hitting the roof of your shared home. bakugou is chopping food on the counter, with you sitting beside him on top of the island, swinging your legs and just observing his movements.
your presence brings him so much comfort, though you aren’t even doing anything special. just the feeling of domesticity makes katsuki experience some weird warm sensation in his chest. he subconsciously smiles at that. it’s a faint smirk, but you still notice it.
after jumping off the countertop, you wrap your arms around his chest and place your head on his muscular back. he huffs with fake annoyance, but in reality, this gesture makes him incredibly happy.
“whatcha doin’, idiot?” he asks.
you roll your eyes at his question.
“i’m showing love to my incredibly strong boyfriend, don’t pretend that you don’t like it.”
at that moment, katsuki shuts up. he can’t lie to your pretty face, that would be cruel, so he just decides to remain silently enjoying your presence and warmth.
some other day, you are lying under the covers with your boyfriend. it’s saturday afternoon, meaning that you two have a day off, just for yourselves. bakugo decided that both of you should watch a movie that just came out, but truth be told, he didn’t even pay attention to it. the boy is simply staring blankly at the tv, visibly deep in thought. you quickly notice his weird behavior and decide to bring it up.
“kats?” you start.
his attention quickly switches to you, bright red eyes staring into yours curiously.
“what’s wrong?” the question falls from your lips.
his expression changes to one of slight shock. perhaps bakugou didn’t realize that he was visibly zoning out, or maybe he just didn’t expect you to mention it. after a few seconds of silence, bakugo finally speaks up.
“nothin’ is wrong, why you askin’?”
you sigh at his words. he is clearly hiding something from you. just when you wanted to scold him for his obvious lie, he speaks again.
“just thinkin’
 ’bout how much i love you, i guess
” he starts, but he’s not looking at you anymore; his eyes are fixed on the ceiling. bakugo feels so embarrassed after he says this. the boy silently curses himself for speaking up.
you look at him confused but can’t deny the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. katsuki wasn’t the one to express his love so directly, and that took you aback.
“every memory i have with you makes me feel
 weird. like, not bad weird, just
 puzzled, i guess? i’ve never felt that way, so it’s hard to exp—” you cut off his rambling before he finishes.
“i know what you mean, kats. every moment, even the simplest and most boring one, stirs up something within you, am i right?”
your boyfriend sends you a shocked look. he didn’t expect you to read his emotions so well. you just said everything right! how is that possible? did you read his mind or something? or maybe
 it was because those were the same feelings you have
?
“yeah
 i think you’re right
” he mumbles, visibly embarrassed by this conversation, so you think it’s time to cut it off.
“but it’s a good feeling, right? like you’re not
 overwhelmed?” you ask him worriedly.
katsuki shoots you a look that you think was supposed to be scolding.
“what? no, you idiot. it’s
 it’s good, i like it.”
you smile at his words and tuck yourself closer to him, bathing in his warmth.
“that’s good
” you whisper and feel yourself slowly doze off, as bakugou leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.
you sleep soundly, dreaming about every soft and domestic moment you had with katsuki. and there were many more to come.
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. ʁ₊ âŠč . ʁ˖ . ʁ kirara’s notes . ʁ₊ âŠč . ʁ˖ . ʁ
thank you for reading this, hope you liked it! likes, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated đŸ€đŸ«§
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fastandcarlos · 17 days ago
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"Will You Be My Dad?" : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton
summary: where your daughter wants lewis to take on a new role in her life
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“Come on, time for bed,” you smiled, scooping your daughter up off of the ground. 
Amelia let go of a groan as she stood to her feet, looking across at you with a pout. You’d already let her stay up much later than you usually did, treating her seeing as Lewis had come around to visit, knowing how much she loved spending time with him. Lewis couldn’t help but smile as she huffed, calling out to you, begging for a few more minutes with the two of you. 
It still felt like a dream for you sometimes as you glanced at Lewis, watching as he picked up some of Amelia’s toys and placed them back into her toy box. She was never too far away from him, practically glued to his side whenever he spent any time with you both. 
Ever since you and Lewis had started dating, Amelia had relished in it. She was only young when you started dating, she didn’t really know life without Lewis in it, all she knew was that although he loved you, he wasn’t the man that she called dad, despite being the one to raise her. 
As Amelia continued to groan, Lewis quickly stepped in. He scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom, throwing her down onto her bed as she giggled away to himself. 
No matter what the situation, whenever you were struggling Lewis was there to step in. He saw Amelia as his own, he treated her as if she was. She was a part of the deal when it came to dating you, but rather than be an inconvenience, she was the greatest addition which made dating you even sweeter. 
“Are you staying here tonight?” Amelia whispered across to Lewis. 
“I think so,” he smiled, looking back to you to check. “That means I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning, maybe we could eat breakfast together.” 
Her smile turned up as you nodded in agreement with Lewis. “Will you cook for us? You always cook us the best breakfast Lewis.” 
“I can do that,” he assured her, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Although I can’t promise that my cooking will be as good as mummy’s dinner was that she made tonight.” 
You slowly stepped towards the bed, perching down on the end of it. “Lewis can only stay if you promise to get some sleep, we can’t have a tired girl at the breakfast table tomorrow morning.” 
Amelia nodded as she sat herself up and cuddled into Lewis’ side. His arm immediately moved around her frame, pressing several kisses against the top of her head. Your smile was wide as you watched the two of them, wondering once again how you ever got so lucky with the two of them. 
“Maybe soon we can live so that we don’t have to have sleepovers,” Lewis spoke, taking you by surprise. “I’ve got a couple weeks off soon, and I was wondering about asking you and mummy what you thought about maybe coming to live in my house instead.” 
“In your house?” Your daughter, grinned, spinning out of his hold so that she was face to face with Lewis. “Would we stay in your house forever?” She quizzed, bouncing up and down as Lewis’ head nodded, his eyes glancing across at the surprise in your expression. 
It was a conversation that you’d never really had, and never expected to have so soon either, but Lewis’ mind was made up and he knew exactly what he wanted. 
He couldn’t imagine life without the two of you, he hated the feeling of returning home to an empty house. The feeling didn’t compare to the feeling he got when he walked through your front door, immediately showered with love and greeted by his two favourite people, filled with excitement. 
“You’d be able to come up with lots of plans and make your room exactly how you want it.” 
“With a big bed?” She grinned, “and loads of teddies in the room too?” 
Lewis nodded, wanting to give Amelia anything she wanted and more. He spoilt her rotten, one of the perks of not being her parent, even if it did leave him in trouble with you time after time. 
“Are you excited about us coming to live with you Lewis?” She asked him. 
“More so than you could ever imagine,” he whispered, reaching across and taking a hold of your hand. “You two have changed my life, I love being around the two of you, annoying your mummy and tickling you until you’re begging me to stop, that’s my favourite thing to do in the world.” 
Both of you wore wide smiles as Lewis spoke openly, letting you know exactly how big of a role you both had in his life. The sentiment didn’t quite mean as much to Amelia as it did you, your heart was full as he spoke, whilst she still daydreamed about the new, amazing bedroom she’d been promised. 
“If we live together, would we be a proper family? Like mum, dad, and me?” 
Neither you or Lewis knew what to say, looking at each other. Your heart raced, terrified as Lewis stared blankly across at you, not quite believing what he had heard from her either. 
“You do everything that a dad does,” Amelia spoke up, feeling the need to explain herself a little more. “You take care of me, and mummy. You take me to school, help me fix my toys when they break, give me cuddles when I’m having a nightmare.” 
“That’s because I love you sweetheart,” Lewis smiled across at her. 
“I know,” she smiled, “do you think...maybe...will you be my dad?” 
You were nervous for a moment, but luckily the corners of Lewis’ mouth soon turned up. He squeezed Amelia even tighter, scooping her up and sitting her in his lap, scattering a trail of kisses from the top of her head, down and all over her face. 
“I would love to be your dad, if that’s what you want,” he whispered. 
Her head nodded, pressing her palms together. “You’re the best daddy in the world,” she told him, already full of confidence that no one could do a better job than Lewis. 
“Sorry,” you whispered across to Lewis as you met his eyes, Amelia cuddling closer into his chest, “I had no idea she was going to ask you that, I’m sorry if you feel a little put on the spot.” 
“It’s alright, in fact, it’s better than alright,” Lewis quickly assured you, “it would be the biggest honour of my life, it makes us more of a family, doesn’t it?” 
You nodded in agreement as Lewis laid Amelia back down in bed again. “Did you mean what you said about moving in? You really want us to live with you? It’s not something you can just change your mind about.” 
“I’ve never been more confident about anything,” Lewis smiled, “I don’t want to have to sit around and wait to see you guys anymore, I want to see you every day.” 
You stretched across and pressed a kiss against Lewis’ cheek, “thank you for completing our family, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 
“You’re an amazing mum, with or without me,” Lewis smiled. 
“And you’re an amazing dad too.” 
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ®ˎ˗
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jinwoosbabyboo · 3 months ago
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“My Bitch Bad”
Telling the LADS Men they’re a bad bitch. Let’s be honest they are indeed bad bitches imagine Zayne rolling his sleeves up okay getting off topic let’s get into it
.
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Zayne
MC: Where do you think you’re going dressed like a slut?
Zayne: Excuse me?
MC: You are so fine you know that?
Zayne: You should watch that sharp tongue of yours
MC: It’s hard when I have a bad bitch with a compression shirt and sweats on in front of me
Zayne: A what?
MC: A bad bitch
Zayne: I’m not a ill mannered female dog
MC: You’re so dense sometimes
Zayne: I think we need to have a conversation about your word choice as of late don’t you think?
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Rafayel
MC: Look at you!
Rafayel: I’m so good looking aren’t I?
MC: You’ll be the baddest bitch at the art exhibit
Rafayel: Just the art exhibit?
MC: The baddest bitch in the world
Rafayel: That’s what I like to hear
MC: Give me a little twirl
Rafayel: *twirls* my ass look fat?
MC: Nice and perky let me grab it
Rafayel: No! I know I’m magnificent but I’m married
MC: I know
Rafayel: So get back harlot
MC: Let me squeeze it!
Rafayel: Stop it I have a wife
MC: I am your wife
Rafayel: At least buy me dinner first before you treat me like a common whore then
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Xavier
Xavier: Can you please let me in your kitchen?
MC: Unless there's a wanderer in there absolutely not
Xavier: Why won't you let me in there
MC: You almost blew it up making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
Xavier: That was one time
MC: No it wasn't
Xavier: Doesn't practice make perfect?
MC: Your cooking skills haven't improved in the slightest
Xavier: :(
MC: It's okay bad bitches don't have to cook
Xavier: Im a bad bitch?
MC: Yes
Xavier: ....?
MC: You're so beautiful and breathtaking that all you need to do is sit there and look pretty. Got it?
Xavier: You think I'm pretty?
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Sylus
MC: Why is your ass fatter than mine
Sylus: Do you have any kind of shame when it comes to speaking to me?
MC: I did ... and then you married me
Sylus: Ah a rookie mistake
MC: Turn around
Sylus: No
MC: Come on I want a full 360 of the baddest bitch in the room
Sylus: First you say my rear end is larger than yours and now I'm a 'bad bitch' what's next?
MC: You giving me a 360 so I can admire that ass ... I'm no better than a man
Sylus: Sweetie *Ties MC up* You've been unruly lately have I been too lenient with you?
MC: And if I say yes?
Sylus: Then maybe I'll let you get a touch after I have my fun first
MC: Such a bad bitch answer
Sylus: Enough.
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mv1simp · 4 months ago
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Into It ♄ Part 1 of 3
Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader
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i'm into it, yeah, says she wanna fuck me later, girl i'm into it
the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚
Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut but this time with some plot lol, reader essentially is just trying whatever tactic she can to seduce her bf and make mad max come out in bed, size kink, dom/sub elements, 4k WC
PART TWO HERE ♄ PART THREE HERE ♄
You look up blissfully at your boyfriend, Max, from where you’re tucked into his side, his strong arm scooping you against him and keeping you warm. You’re rewatching an old classic, Shrek 2, as you wind down from your dinner plans with your friends earlier than evening. Lando and Daniel had joined as well, teasing you and Max mercilessly about how you two were finally together and that the whole F1 grid had been placing bets on when you would make it official.
You had flushed in a combination of embarrassment and giddiness, unable to hold back a matching laugh with Max who had looked over at you with an adoring gaze, his own heart warm with happiness about finally being able to call you his own. You two had run in the same Monaco circles for years - with him as a driver and you on the McLaren legal team. Though initially you only saw glimpses of him through paddock interviews or social media posts celebrating his multiple winning streaks, the two of you had become a lot closer the past couple years through his friendship with Daniel and Lando. Soon enough you were joining them at weekly Padel sessions, leading to you and Max exchanging funny cat memes or popping online to decimate him and Lando on a Call of Duty stream and then eventually onto deeper conversations, from his latest breakups with his model girlfriends or quiet ramblings with a bottle of wine outside a booming party about the pressures of demanding fathers.
Of course, tongues were wagging anytime you two were seen together - especially when Max had his first time in years being single for months before you had gotten together. You couldn’t deny that you had always thought the older Dutch man was incredibly handsome and funny, always full of interesting facts about niche topics, and you found his intensity and passion for his racing career so attractive, as a high powered professional yourself as a lawyer for a luxury car brand’s executive board. But you had always curbed any growing feelings you had for Max, paranoid that it would compromise the strong friendship you two had developed. Besides, given his affliction for dating vogue models, and his respectful gazes or polite touches compared to the much more flirtier ones from other drivers on the grid, you had never thought max considered you attractive.
But somehow, despite both your busy schedules, despite max being across the globe, you always ended up calling each other first to share sad, happy, or even just boring news. You had never once imagined that after winning his most recent championship the first person he came looking for in his celebrations that night was you, his face flushes from champagne and hugging you tightly, his eyes shining with warmth as he told you he couldn’t have won it without you and suddenly you could no longer deny the rapid palpitations of your heart when you looked up at him. And as he looked at you, thumb gently brushing across your cheeks, warm breaths mingling together as your faces drew closer, he couldn’t deny himself any longer either - Schat, all I’ve been thinking about is what I really wanted for my prize instead of this trophy. Can I kiss you now?
And the rest was history. Fast forward a few months and it’s still so surreal to call Max your boyfriend, you think, as you come back to the present, watching him fondly as he chuckles at the movie. Dating him has been a dream - he’s your first serious relationship, your standards too high to waste time with any of the subpar guys you had gone on first dates with before - and wow, did Max know exactly how to knock all of those standards out of the park. He would always drive and pick you up anywhere you wanted, in his sleek luxury cars that had pedestrians gawping, one large hand on your thigh and asking how your day had been. You had literally stopped taking your wallet out anymore as Max always slammed down his black Amex at any opportunity to pay for you - dinners, trips, jewellery and luxurious shopping sprees - and although the staunch feminist in you had initially disagreed you couldn’t help but feel so cared for, so looked after - knowing all you needed on a night out was one hand around his arm and the other clutching a pretty little Chanel purse he had picked up for you at last month’s race weekend, with a matching Dior lip gloss inside. If you were ever having a hard day at work he would always order your favourite foods straight to your apartment, where he would meet you and bitch and vent alongside you about whichever client had been giving you grief.
And my god, the sex - THE SEX with your man had been absolutely amazing. Considering the difference in your past number of relationships, max was keenly aware that he had a lot more experience than you and was so unbelievably sweet and patient - letting you take all the time you needed to go slow and work up the confidence gradually to ask for what you wanted for him. Your first time together had been incredibly romantic, a night at a private house he had booked out for the week on the Italian coastline. After a candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine you found yourself in his lap on the outdoor chaise, soft kisses turning more and more heated, max whispering are you sure, liefje? If you’re not ready-
to which you had cut him off with another deep kiss, pleading for him to make you his once and for all ❀ His eyes had flickered with a deep intensity at your possessive statement before softening out to adoration again as he gently unlaced your dress and trailed kisses down your body, worshipping you. you’d both cum embarrassingly faster than you’d have liked, high off the feeling of one another, max cleanly finishing inside a condom he threw away before carrying you in his arms to the bedroom inside. Since then, you’d both figured out you had a combined very high sex drive, using every opportunity in your schedules to make love, max never hesitating to always make sure you came first, either on his fingers, tongue or cock. You had the perfect boyfriend. Truly. You couldn’t ask for anything more, yet -
- yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute bitch about the recurrent thoughts that had planted in your mind as you watched max come out of the bathroom freshly showered, getting ready for bed after finishing a gaming stream with his mates following your Shrek 2 viewing. The issue was that your boyfriend - your incredibly hot, sexy, tall Dutch boyfriend - was so stupidly enticing but so oblivious that he has no idea what he did to you. You bit your lip as you looked at him, hair dripping wet, distractingly saying something to you while texting on his phone - but your mind was only fixed on how big and strong Max looked. Your boyfriend was much bigger than you, almost towering over you at 6”1 with your 5”1 frame. His athletic training currently during the season meant he had been looking extra delectable lately, defined abs, thick muscular thighs and a broad shoulder and back that narrowed down to a narrow (or as Lando joked, slutty) waist, highlighted now by the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips that did nothing to hide the sizeable bulge in between his legs. It was undeniable that he was packing, to the point where you had called it his third leg after first seeing him naked, making him laugh but also take even more care everytime he entered you - you were a lot smaller than his previous partners, after all. He always made sure his pace was gentle and slow, avoiding fully entering you too much in worry of causing you pain. Truly, your boyfriend was too sweet - everything he did was to avoid causing your any pain or distress - which is why you felt too embarrassed to ask him directly to be rougher with you when he was simply looking out for your comfort. It has been perfect for you initially, but now you felt more adjusted to his size, and each time you slept together you felt yourself becoming more and more desperate for Max to be just a little bit rougher, a little bit more controlling. What would he think when his usually sweet, happy go lucky girlfriend admitted she actually fantasised about him completely ruining her? So, of course, you being you - an ambitious feminist - have decided to hatch a conniving strategy to seduce your boyfriend into giving it to you just right!! 💕
Starting tonight - you had already planned to spend the night at Max’s, relaxing after the hectic work week you had both had. Often, you wore his comfortable hoodies that dwarfed you and smelt just like him as you cuddled in bed. Instead tonight you wore an angelic pink lace Agent Provocateur nightie, bows and all, pushing your cute tits up on display for him and complimenting your caramel skin perfectly. Enough to drive Max crazy, right? Sitting against the plush pillows, you had been reading one of your steamy dark romance novels - your latest outlet these days while you manifested getting some back breaking sex with Max - but of course had ended up distracted by the sight of your himbo boyfriend emerging from the shower.
-Schat? So what do you think? Max finally looked up from his phone, making you come back to reality and realize you hadn’t been answering his question. Max’s eyes widened seeing your pretty little form on his bed - he had never seen you wear an outfit like that in bed before. He cleared his throat, inconspicuously shifting his stance so you didn’t notice his hard on at the sight of you when you hastily stumbled to reply - Oh sorry maxie, I missed what you were saying, just a bit tired after today
Max immediately came to your side in bed, looking guilty. Of course Schat, sorry, I’m keeping you up with my gaming stream aren’t I? You had such a long week already, we can go straight to bed now. You cursed your own slip up - of course, your sweet Max would put your comfort first over what you were sure looked like mission successful given the rapid hardening of his bulge you had zoned in on.
You try again as Max dims the bedside lamps, taking your book gently away from your hands and setting it to the side. You lean softly in next to him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, tits right up against his hard biceps so that your breasts are basically cushioning his arm right in between them. Your nightie rises up your legs, showcasing your soft, luscious thighs for him. Max smiles lovingly at you, cradling your face before peppering your cheeks with baby kisses. You look so pretty, sweetheart. So sweet to wait for me before falling asleep, mein Schat.
You lean in further, lips pouting in an effort your boyfriend would finally catch the hint but instead you found yourself gently maneouvered and tucked into his side, his large hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as he placed a final kiss on your forehead. Goodnight, darling. Your eye twitched at his definitive words, perplexed at how your plan had been so unsuccessful, but you sighed and wished goodnight to Max, falling asleep and already plotting for another day.
A couple of weeks later you decided to up the ante. A sexy, bold crimson red lingerie teddy set, practically see through and showcasing your tan nipples through the lace and mesh, and a pathetic excuse of some lacy red panties to match. You smirked as you eyed yourself in the mirror - sure, it was quite a forward look, but you had found yourself becoming increasingly more desperate for your boyfriend’s attentions after attending his Monaco race today. You did your best to attend the races you could but with your own demanding schedule often struggled to make it, so were very excited to support your boyfriend this time - especially as you had been keeping track of how this season was difficult compared to earlier years given the poorer quality of the RB car. Your eyes had widened at seeing the events this weekend - a string of bad luck events. First, his engine had stalled during free practise, making him lose precious practise time, and then a red flag had been called as he was finishing an almost perfect qualifying lap, ruining his chances of pole, and finally during the actual race he was clipped on the side by one of the Aston Martin’s, making him spin out but still incredibly go on to get P2. It was amazing result given everything, but what caught your attention was a side of your boyfriend you had only every heard whispers about emerge on the track. In the past, you had only attended races he had easily won, appearing calm and collected throughout the weekends as he cruised to P1 - easily overpowering everyone else. Today though - Mad Max, his fans excitedly cheered and paddock staff gossiped, Mad Max is finally back!! In his villain era!!
And your Max was indeed seething at everyone - competitors, his strategy team, the stewards for not giving Aston Martin a penalty - and you had listened in on the radio to hear him angrily swear and yell to his engineer, seen him aggressively overtake and defend his place on the track, and finally seen the stormy expression on his face as he emerged out of his car, clearly pissed with narrowed eyes as he stalked off to his driver room without a word, not even sparing a glance at you or anyone else. Sure, you should have felt a little hurt that he hadn’t noticed you or seen the perfectly planned designer outfit you had arrived wearing, sending the paparazzi into a flurry, but you completely understood that his career was first on the line today and he needed some time to cool off. And honestly, instead of feeling bad for Max - the sick, twisted part of you couldn’t deny that he had looked sooo sexy completely dominating on the track, authoritatively giving orders over the radio and confidently outmanoeuvring his rivals. You had to catch yourself from biting your lip or squeezing your legs together as his rough accented tones got more and more angry throughout the race over your headphones, imaging what it would be like to be pinned down by his strong arms, to have him lean down behind you and whisper naughty things in your ear, to ask if you liked being a dirty little-
“Oh! Y/N! Can we get a quick word?” The sky sports reporters interruption hastily put an end to the illicit thoughts you had been having. Quickly trying to school your expression into something much more PR friendly, you flashed a dazzling smile, “Of course!”. As expected they tried to rile responses out of you to condemn Max’s aggressive performance. But you had stood for none of it, honestly and clearly stating that your boyfriend had driven very capably and fairly given the circumstances and you were extremely impressed with his performance. “He’s a triple world champion after all. Did you just expect him to roll over and not defend his title? If you don’t agree with it then no need to watch it. At the end of the day he’s the one driving the car over the finish line while everyone else is speculating hypotheticals.” The reporters thank you for your input, stumbling for words at your strong defence of your boyfriend. You wandered off before they could say more, catching up with Max a couple hours later when he had debriefed and collected his trophy, looking a lot more chilled out than earlier.
Hey, Schatje he mumbled gently, leaning down to kiss you on the lips after pulling you from a conversation with the other WAGs. Max! you had exclaimed brightly, congratulating him on his win and letting him know just how proud you were of him. You knew he would be tired - we could go to the red bull celebration yacht party for 30min, show our faces, and then play hooky back to ours? I already put in a dinner order for your favourite lamb kebabs.
Max smiled down at you - you knew him so well, always knew what to say and when he wanted to relax. Sounds amazing, Schat he voiced in agreement. Later, after eating dinner at home, Lando sent him a trending insta reel with the caption “Mate, she’s too good to you, you bagged a queen.” Max grinned, expecting some fanmade memes about you and him as he clicked the link (he has seen all the Queen Y/N and he’s just
Ken Max tweets already. You were a well liked figure on the paddock for years with your well mannered speech, excellent dress style and courteous relationships with most of the staff.)
He was suprised to instead see an interview post race of you defending him staunchly, shutting down any opportunity the reporters used to manipulate your words. He walked into his bedroom to find you conveniently waiting for him in bed again, nose buried in one of your romance models, and started laughing at how effective you were at putting the media clowns in their place. Thanks for sticking up for me always, liefje. You smiled back at him with pure adoration - of course Maxie, that’s the advantage of dating a lawyer, right?
He agreed enthusiastically, so caught up on now yapping about the race as he climbed into bed with you that he didn’t even notice the sexy little outfit you had planned just for him, covering you up with his soft duvet before you could properly twirl around and showcase it for him. Your eye twitched again as he yawned in between statements, grabbing your waist and bringing your back in against him, spooning you while his voice gently trailed off, falling asleep.
Meanwhile, your mind was running at 100 miles a minute, a scowl on your face. This was ridiculous, you had gotten all dressed up in an overpriced beautiful outfit just for your boyfriend to get distracted by a 3min interview you had done with an asshole reporter and then fall asleep instead of ravaging you?? You had tonight would be the perfect night, for you to be the one to support him for once, be the perfect outlet for his stress, to use you and manipulate your body for his own pleasure
heat pooled in your gut at your dark thoughts, and you grow wetter between your legs at the mental image of max having his way with you. Maybe it still wasn’t too late. Sighing gently, you closed your eyes, pretending to drift into sleep but moving your plump, barely covered ass behind you to gently grind up on your boyfriend’s cock, which was now rapidly hardening with your practised movements. You sensed Max had awakened when you felt his arms tighten around you, keeping you still in an effort to stop you from exciting him to much while you were still asleep and he couldn’t act on it.
Mmmhmm, maxie, feels so good~ you moaned, still keeping up the facade of having a wet dream, breathing getting heavier and pushing your tits against the edges of his fingers that were wrapped around your waist. You felt him exhale sharply as he came into contact with your hardened nipples, a smirk on your face. Your grinding had managed to push the duvet partially off, exposing your red lingerie in the moonlight - surely this would be enough to drive any man crazy!!
You heard him sigh behind you, shifting slightly and inadvertently pushing his cock against your skimpy underwear as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck - and you had to hold back a squeal with how hard and big he felt against you, this was it, he was finally going to give in and fuck you awake while he thought you were having a wet dream, he could slide it right in, you were ready for it, for him, you were soo wet already just from imagining it, this was so hot-
Your fantasies are quickly shut down as max easily used his strength to turn you around so your face was buried into his chest again, your ass now devastatingly much too far away to get any action, and began rubbing your shoulders soothingly to get you to fall into a deep sleep again. You almost combusted at the action before deflating and accepting defeat once more. Your kind boyfriend of course would never toe the line of having sex with you in a dubious way were you were asleep. You wanted - no needed, to bring Mad Max out in your bedroom, and you were determined to do whatever it took.
Over the next few weeks you threw countless strategies Max’s way. Leaving your dirty romance books out in plain view, sometimes even opened up to a page right in the middle of a jaw dropping sex scene. Lacier and lacier bralettes and panties left everywhere to prompt him. “Accidentally” deleting his best SIM race time record on his rig. But nothing seemed to be working - max diligently tidyed up the stray underwear, reshelved the books, and generously forgave you for the SIM error before setting a new record later that night instead of fucking you angrily like you had planned. You got more frustrated as both your work schedules became busier, leaving you less time to connect with him. Fuck, last weekend - last weekend you had even thrown out all your boxes of condoms before jumping into Max’s arms when he had come home, laughing and eager to see you. One thing let to another and he was as eager to be inside you as you were to have him inside you, voicing It’s been too long Schat, I’ve missed your sweet body so much, so beautiful for me in between kisses as he reached for the bedstand drawer to grab a condom - only to find it empty. You pretended to have a confused look on your face (truly, you deserved an Oscar for your performance this past month) before oh so innocently suggesting Maxie, we- we don’t have to use one if you don’t want, I’m on the pill -
And there it was - a brief darkening of your boyfriends’ normally loving ice blue eyes, his sharp gaze on you at your suggestion of doing it raw for the first time - before he schooled his features back to normal and gave you a sweet kiss, It’s okay Schat, you’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to feel uncomfortable for my sake, I’ll just grab some from the corner store, da? He was off you before you could protest, promising he would be back soon as you blinked away tears of frustration and denial that yet again your plan had failed. When he finally entered you later that night, ever so gently, condom and all, you closed your eyes tight and imagined how each vein and ridge of his thick cock might feel when fully buried inside you to the hilt, if that goddamn condom broke, if he spilled all of his thick, creamy cum inside you, so much that it spurted out the sides, leaking everywhere, claiming you as his and no one else’s, making such a filthy, filthy mess-
- you came harder than you had the whole month, burying your face in Max’s shoulder to contain the scream that threatened to spill out. You sighed as you came down from your high. Fuck, you needed a drink.
—————————————————————————
A/N: Follow along for Part 2 of this 3 part series to see if dear reader will finally manage to uncockblock herself and release Mad Max!! 😚😚
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honeyhotteoks · 3 months ago
Text
under his eye (lnds; sylus)
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summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.
note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡
warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw
pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader
genre: smut, porn with very little plot
word count: 5.6k
for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.
It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.
Sylus. 
His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it. 
You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space. 
He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair. 
You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten? 
You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest. 
I thought you liked being my pretty paramour. 
Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted. 
You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner. 
You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.
But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation. 
You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his. 
His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you. 
Sleep. 
You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed. 
Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.
“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip. 
You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.
Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,” 
Your muscles soften. 
“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes. 
You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this. 
“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,” 
Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands. 
“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,” 
Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase. 
“That’s a good girl,” 
You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words. 
“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips. 
He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again. 
“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?” 
He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen. 
“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking. 
“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath. 
He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure. 
You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale. 
“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?” 
You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch. 
“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.” 
Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest. 
His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?” 
Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,” 
“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours. 
You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties. 
You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly. 
Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?” 
“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.
  “My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?” 
You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,” 
“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,” 
A hot rush spreads up through your body.
You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.
You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. 
His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.
  “Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,” 
He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it. 
He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,” 
Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly. 
  “Don’t you?” 
You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”
”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit. 
  “Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.
  “That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place. 
If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job. 
“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?” 
“Yes,” You manage. 
“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?” 
“Please,” 
He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,” 
Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?” 
“Touch you where?” 
You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips. 
“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?” 
“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,” 
“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling. 
You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it. 
Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do. 
The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him. 
When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,” 
The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest. 
“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan. 
He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars. 
You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks. 
“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh. 
He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest. 
You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside. 
“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.” 
You shiver, your core pulsing again. 
“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,” 
Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder. 
“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”
  “I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.
“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.” 
A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now. 
“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,” 
Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you. 
Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,” 
Just like before, the world falls away. 
✩ .  âș   . ✩ .  âș   . ✩
There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his. 
Needy girl. 
Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt. 
Rutting yourself on my thigh. 
Were you? 
Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?
A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly. 
Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now. 
Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch. 
Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,” 
His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light. 
“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,” 
You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed. 
He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster. 
“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,” 
A sharp exhale leaves your lips. 
Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,” 
Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again. 
His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,” 
Your breath quickens. 
“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,” 
The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.
Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.
”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.  
A whimper passes through your slack lips. 
“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,” 
You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters. 
“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,” 
Your breath hitches. 
He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,” 
You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you. 
He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud. 
Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands. 
“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,” 
You feel your stomach clench at the thought. 
“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,” 
A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words. 
“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?” 
You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside. 
“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”
He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours. 
You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him. 
He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,” 
Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control. 
“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,” 
Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.
  “You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.
  Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap. 
“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.
  Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,” 
“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,” 
The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m
 Sylus, I’m close!”
He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side  again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you. 
“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat. 
“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure. 
He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you. 
Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,” 
Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure. 
When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans. 
“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, “come for me again, that’s my girl,” 
“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions. 
“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,” 
Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down. 
Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you. 
Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again. 
His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,” 
Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.
“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,” 
Your head snaps back up. 
“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.
You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.
”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest. 
You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,” 
He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck. 
”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?” 
Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal. 
This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more. 
You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?” 
He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,” 
“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,” 
He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,” 
You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him. 
“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him. 
“If I was I’d never admit it,” 
He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh. 
”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,” 
He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion. 
Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his. 
Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue. 
“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,” 
He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly. 
You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered. 
“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat. 
“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat. 
You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,” 
“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,” 
“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action. 
“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel
” 
You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.
”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,” 
There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release. 
“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,” 
Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,” 
“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more. 
You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,” 
He shudders, groaning.  
“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,” 
His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms. 
“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,” 
“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,” 
He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment. 
When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you. 
“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,” 
“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips. 
“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.” 
He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.  
“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks. 
“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently. 
You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious. 
Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin. 
His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. 
“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time. 
You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,” 
His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,” 
You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck. 
“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,” 
“I think that’s a perfect idea,” 
“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,” 
You nod, relaxing into his care. 
“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?” 
“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?” 
He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips. 
“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?” 
His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,” 
“I’m simply curious,” You tease. 
“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?” 
You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.
“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?” 
“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again. 
He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,” 
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kings-highway · 6 months ago
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pre-relationship bullshit haikyuu teams probably had to put up with before various ships managed to get their shit together
daisuga probably was really annoying with like small/petty jealousy, like a girl would hit on one of them and the other would be standing behind their back making faces about it and mocking it and everyone else on the team just has to put up with it. and then theyre all overly sweet to each other to make up for the petty jealousy or some odd version of "winning them back" after the flirting event and the team is rolling their eyes *so hard*
i think asanoya is so annoying bc nobody can convince Asahi that Noya likes him. Like full stop. Eventually someone pulls him aside and is point blank like "Noya said he has a crush on you ask him out" and Asahi is just like: "Haha he was probably joking" and just leaves the scene. Like the absolute refusal to believe it from Asahi combined with Noya's classic teen boy inability to be sincere means that even after theyve both been told they somehow still havent gotten together??? how long is this going to take???
tsukkiyama probably ruins everyone's week the week before they get together bc one of them *saw* a confession letter stuck into the other's bag and absolutely went (emotionally) off the rails for the days leading up to them discovering it was for them.
I am fully of the camp that iwaoi start dating before they label it/make it official so the whole team is screaming like "PLEASE HAVE A CONVERSATION ABOUT IT" meanwhile Oikawa is saying "we just went on a few dates and kissed a few times it doesnt mean anything" and Iwa is in the background shouting "yeah I dont wanna be anyone's boyfriend that's lame" and then they wander off to go eat dinner together holding hands and the team is left in frustration because ALL they talk about is how theyre *not* in a relationship.
for bokuaka its mostly just Bokuto pestering every goddamn person he knows for like 4 months asking "do you think Akaashi likes me?" or "do you think he'd say yes if I asked him out?" and then one day making Konoha *snap* when he says "I need to tell you a secret" and the secret is that he has a crush on Akaashi as if nobody had known that
with ushiten I imagine Tendou was probably really obvious with his crush/interest but in like a very casual "not taking myself too seriously" kind of way so he's comfortable openly flirting, and Ushijima, against everyone's expectations, doesnt seem to mind the attention but is still who he is, so the whole team just has to put up with the most INSANE interactions. Like Tendou walks into the locker room and cat calls him and Ushijima just replies with a formal "thank you" and Semi is contemplating slamming his head in a locker. There's like 12 months of this.
okay okay but I think arankita is *very classic* in that Aran compensates for his crush by over-supporting Kita. so like the whole team gets super annoyed bc Aran wont risk disagreeing with him, is always offering to do extra work, is generally just sucking-up really badly and the twins suffer the most for this bc Aran used to just ignore their antics but now he's super annoyingly on them all the time to try and impress Kita
kuroken is a little different. Yaku asks Kuroo every single day if he's asked Kenma out yet. Lev asks Kenma if he has a crush on Kuroo every chance he gets. Fukunaga gives them a wink when they leave practice to walk home together. This is the only pairing in which the team is the irritant pre-relationship and then post-relationship everyone loses interest and moves on.
I'd include kagehina but once again the entire goddamn show is everyone putting up with them flirting so whats the point.
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