#crawled over my hand trying to get a secure grip

[shirajellyfish]

Grocery store perils

Things I thought would be a danger to watch out for as a cashier:

Scary robbers

Evil mean customers

General violence

The actual dangers:

Cutting hand open on thick cardboard

Angry pineapple leaves

Being scratched by a bearded dragon

[screampied]

‘ SHE’S A VERY KINKY GIRLLL ?! ★

geto, toji, choso, gojo, nanami, sukuna. jjk men finding out your nasty little kinks

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, size kink, spıt, daddy kink, hair pulling, shibari, premature ejaculatıon, first time squırt, size differences, dirty talk, praise, brēeding, blindfolds, spānking, overstim, phone sēx.

wc. 4.8k

☆ NANAMI KENTO + hair pulling.

“you’re gonna get me fired, sweetheart,” nanami jokes, a dry laugh following his words. he had you right where you wanted - bent over, arched right over his work desk like some slut. not that you minded, you were needy. the rumbles of the old wooden desk continues to scream out creaks and creaks until it sounds like a broken record. nanami’s belt buckle occasionally rubs against your skin, the repetitive clanks it makes on your flesh has you throbbing for more. “oh my, such a nasty girl. ‘s this what you wanted? for me ‘ta stop what ‘m doin’ to give you a little more attention?”

“y- yes, ‘ken,” you whine, not even caring that your was face was practically being shoved into his unkempt pile of documents. as your cunt’s being stretched open by the size of his twitching shaft, your lips part into a circular open shape. “mmf,” and you pause, feeling a familiar calloused hand grab onto the back of your head. a tiny yank suffices and your pussy pulses almost immediately from the pull. nanami felt it, and so did you. “do .. do that again, kento. please.”

with a low, timbre chuckle, his hips come to a sudden halt. “oh,” he mutters, and he’s a bit more amused at your sudden arousal. gentle fingers skim near your waist, another focusing on the crown of your head before he hums. “do what again, my sweet? pull your hair?” and you whine once more as those silk words pour from his lips like dripping honey. you were desperate, grinding back your ass against him in carnal want. with a soft smile, he gives your hair a more tugging yank before starting up again. “why of course. anything for the kinky wife, hm?”

nanami was balls fucking deep, every time he’d deepen and piston his strokes with his hips, your moans only get louder. he’s so thorough too, not missing a single spot with his cock that’s simply rummaging through your goopy insides. “k- kennn,” you whine, hearing his breathing significantly pick up from behind you. raspy, gruff pants from nanami bellow out from his raw vocal chords. it’s sexy, every few seconds he’d take a glance at his watch to check the time. you were gonna get him in trouble. “harder, mhm. h- harder.”

nanami smiles, and he’s so stuffed inside of you that he’s molding a little bulging mark that’s all due to the size of his thick cock. “make up your mind, my love,” he mutters in a low voice—beads of sweat racing down each sides of his face. his irregular pants doesn’t become unnoticed, and the grip against your hair tightens to your liking. “hey, goin’ somewhere? don’t run, gorgeous. you want me to pull so ‘m gonna pull.”

and you moan, feeling the elastic stretch of his girth blowing a fuse through your cunt. he finds the way you try to crawl forward from his dick, but only grabs you right back. it feels good, you’re shivering and not just from his touch. already, your knees start to weaken and buckle as he’s got you hunched over his desk, staring face first into various piles of papers he was supposed to be signing. instead, he was buried deep into your needy cunt, making it cry out squelches over and over on repeat.

“m gonna c- cum,” you babble out, although you weren’t even sure if that’s what the build up pressure was. as you clench down on your jaw, it’s something else. your breathing becomes a bit more pitched and you whine, fisting a ball within your hand, knuckles burning a single color. “kento, kento f- fuckkk. ‘s gonna come out.”

“make a mess, don’t be shy.” he gets right up close against your ear, his grip being a bit more secure.

your head tosses itself back and he flashes you a warm grin, lust and desire all in his mahogany brown eyes. “atta girl,” he purrs once he sees the white form in your eyes, you’re rolling them back toward the outer sockets until you’re not even seeing color anymore. succumbing and falling into the blissful pleasure, you gush out. nanami pauses, his cock’s remaining to tuck itself into your sobbing cunt before your orgasm finally shrieks out your throat. “there it is,” he brings a kiss toward the nape of your neck. you twitch, your body sending itself a wave of convulsing jitters as you’re coming undone on his dick.

the room suddenly feels hot, or maybe it was just you. nanami blinks twice, feeling your pussy continue to release itself for a few moments before he peers down. with a soft grin, he furrows a brow as a thumb bedaubs a long stripe down your soddened slick opening.

“did you just .. squirt on me, sweetheart?” and there’s a bit of wry humor in his voice. with a hand still raking against your head, his thumb still collects a swab of your filthy slick before he pops the same finger into his mouth. sliding his tongue around to savor your taste, he hums. “you did.”

☆ GETO SUGURU + phone sex.

i touch myself just thinkin’ about you.

geto always knew you had a thing for listening to his voice. you ended up 'accidentally' letting him know of your little kink and he now calls you every time he’s away. he’s a busy man, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never make time for his pretty baby. with two crumped up fingers curling inside of your weeping cunt, you dial his number by heart.

on the second ring he answers in a sly, “hey girl.”

maybe you were a little dramatic, but the abrupt twitch that ghosts against your exposed pussy makes you whine. a raspy chuckle breaks through the phone speaker and it’s a bit staticky. “sugu,” you pant, and you were already so close. so so close to your inevitable, incoming release. through short millisecond heaving breaths, you speak in a needy voice. “i miss you.”

“i miss you more, baby,” he whispers, and you can hear his heavy pants through the other line. “fuck,” he murmurs, purposely growing silent to hear the slippery slick sloshes of your responsible cunt in the background. “don’t tell me you’re playing with her when ‘m not here, aw.”

you dip your two fingers inside of your pussy, coating the entirety of your digits with your moist before pouting. putting the phone on speaker, you slouch. “s- sorry, you’ve been fightin’ all day ‘n i was just imagining my fingers were yours.”

“you were, yeah?” a low voice replies, and you can hear how his voice pitches deeper. it’s low, your throbbing only intensifies and you bite your lip. as you multitask, occupying your hand by holding the phone, another with fingers burying itself into your cunt, you sigh. “mhm, baby’s all out of fuckin’ breath. you close?”

“y- yesss,” you start to babble, feeling a wave of crashing shockwaves pulse through your clit. the shock of it all was electrifying - surging all through you. your eyes flick back for a bit until you’re seeing splashes of obsidian black. “keep talkin’ to me suguru, please. your voice ‘s gonna make me cum.”

he stays quiet for a few seconds before purring in a seductive voice. “oh baby,” and his pants against the line was enough to make your legs give out. your pathetic little fingers could never compare to geto’s. his was far thicker and longer, easily stretching out your cunt with just a few thrusts. you could almost drool from imagining him easing your tight walls with his two beloved digits. whether it was his dick, fingers, or even his long slick tongue, he knew how to make you feral.

“silly girl, you there? i said you can cum.”

“o- oh, sorry,” you whine, snapping out of your short fantasm. and with your fingers still shoved into your wet opening, you lean back against the cushioned mattress behind you. “s- suguruuu,” you whimper, hearing his candied sweet praises in the background. he’s telling you all the right words and you could tell he was probably touching himself from the few subtle grunts that would escape from his lips every few pausing seconds. the moment you come undone, it’s short and quick. it’s within a quick as a blink of an eye, one minute you’re whining and the next you’re covering your two slender digits with sprays of your juices. “ngh, fuck s- suguru.”

he snickers to himself, even his laugh was attractive on its own — it's husky, it turns you on a lot more than you thought it did. as you’re trying to calm down from your most recent release, geto hums into the phone. “god i wish i was with you right now. wanna see the mess you fuckin’ made,” and as he pauses to breathe, geto groans. “i already know you’re on my side of the bed too, messy girl.”

“y- yeah,” you murmur with a sheepish smile.

sucking his teeth, geto has a cunning grin forming on his lips before he responds. “ah, such a brat. but y’know what you can do for me until i get home, baby?” and once you respond a sweet ‘what’, geto speaks huskily. “put those fingers in your mouth ‘n your mouth ‘n send me a pic of it.”

“can you send me a audio of you whining though?” you plead, still panting.

as he tchs at your little question. geto eye rolls, secretly loving how you always wanted something in return. “yeah. but don’t blame me if ‘s like twenty minutes long though.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN + shibari.

you were sukuna ryomen’s favorite,

the minute you bring up wanting to try shibari with him, something lights up within him. oh, he’s adored shibari for centuries. eons. loving nothing more than to tie his precious lover up and have his way with them. so when you tell him you grew a special liking to it, he just had to indulge in your fantasies.

“tell me if it’s too tight, little one,” he purrs, his voice as rough as ever. you felt the brief tightening of the ropes around your body, securing your weight as you dangle near his chambered walls. your nude body’s like art to him. an empty canvas he’d soon fill with his own type of paint. you give him a nod, gasping once he restrains you in a way so that your legs sprawl widely open for him. “hmmm,” he groans, getting right behind you.

his growl sends you shivers, your cunt’s sopping wet and he brings a hand to feel against your body. sukuna’s touch itself was hypnotic.

“you’re already soaked, how amusing,” and judging from the devilish rasp in his tone, he sounds offended. leaning up against your ear, he dips a single finger inside. “tell me, did these filthy fingers touch her while i was away?”

“n- no,” you mumble, the soft padded strokes of his fingertips making your head throw itself back. he was right behind you, you were hanging with the safe gripping of ropes securing your thighs open before you moan. “didn’t touch myself all day, ‘kuna. waited for you to c- come back.”

“don’t like when my girl lies,” he snarls, and you moan again once he gifts the entrance of your cunt a mean smack. it’s rude—the way his palm hits against your folds causes the very center of his hand to get coated with your wetness. he’d be lying himself if he said that didn’t turn him on. in fact, with the attention he’s giving your pussy, it’s making his dick twitch beneath the expensive homemade fabric of his royal kimono. “ugh, gettin’ me hard,” and he pauses before another finger delves inside. you’re whining, feeling how easily he stretches your opening up with two solid digits. as your legs remain to spread, his eyes flicker toward the rope that’s got a nice grip against your breasts. “mhm, such a pretty body though. would be a shame to edge ya right now.”

“s- sukuna,” you whimper, leaning furthermore into his touch. a curling of your toes starts to make an appearance before he swirls both fingers in and out of your pussy. he’s so deep, a long dragging meal dies from your throat rawly before you’re already being pulled into a teetering orgasmic edge. “fuck, ‘s good. your fingers- please don’t s- stop.”

“quiet, princess,” he warns you, you throb from the mature authority in his voice. with his fingers getting lost into the deep never-ending exits of your cunt, you squelch all around his fingers. scarlet, ruby eyes stare at your exposed body and a long forked tongue licks against his lips. “keh, imaginin’ you touch my pussy ‘s almost laughable,” and your jaw hangs itself down the moment his lengthy digits locate your g-spot. it doesn’t take him long at all. with a sly smile compressing against his lips, sukuna brings a kiss toward your neck. “oh, you’re so predictable. you want me to tie you up but you have the audacity to touch yourself. ‘n ya can’t even do it right at that, you poor thing.”

his words did something to you — it wasn’t pity, no, it was more of him teasing you. maybe a sprinkle of humility, but either way, you throbbed from it regardless. and yet, the last thing you expect is for the demon to get right in front of you, leveling his head down toward your open legs before licking against your sweet cunt. “s- sukuna,” you whine, and your first instinct was to grab onto his hair for support. but then it dawned on you. you couldn’t, you were tied up. damn it all.

you’re shivering from his flat tongue. he’s like a cat, giving it a few subtle sloppy licks. the texture of his forked tongue makes you shudder before he pulls his mouth back. that’s all he’d give you for now. “mhm,” he grumbles, pressing a thumb against your pulsating twitching muscle. once he sees your pout, he chuckles. “oh, do you want me to continue?” and you nod, desperate for his tongue to go back to its place. “very well.”

and sukuna brings a sharp blackened fingernail towards your folds, gently grazing it near your nub before a tongue slowly slithers its way over his lips. you gulp, meeting eye contact with the king of curses.

and now, he knew what his brand new meal was.

☆ GOJO SATORU + blindfolds.

“thaaaat’s.. kinda kinky, gojo flashes a coy grin, carefully tying his blindfold around your eyes. once he secures a little knot near the back, he hums in amusement. “but okay. jus’ lie back, angel. ‘m gonna take good care of my girls.”

his ‘girls’ being his most precious beings which was—

you, what’s between your legs, and of course, your tits too.

but with those, he’d tend to them another day. right now, he was focused on you from behind. as his weight’s directly pressed up against you, he smears his leaky tip against your entrance with one hand. “easy, good girl. jus’ feel, let ‘toru the talkin’ angel,” and his body heat was so hot against yours. you pout from his teasing because he’s not even fucking you yet - but he just wants to toy with you for a bit. as his blindfold’s tied over your eyes, he makes your wrists pin behind your back. “so pretty like this.”

“s- satoru,” you frown and once he makes your back arch, you slump forward. gojo grabs a hand full of your ass before squeezing it. with a spank, it recoils against your skin before he’s sinking his way into your drenched cunt. “mhm,” you bite your lip, and the tremendous shaking starts. he’s thin, his cock was even thinner, but the fat girth solely makes up for it. with a gasping whine and your mouth becoming ajar, he’s splitting you open. it doesn’t take long before he’s bottoming out, getting you in nothing more but a prone bone position. “fuck me, f- fuck meee.”

“m tryin’ to,” he huffs, groaning at the way his peeling foreskin sinks its way into your clingy cunt. your grip was so good that it makes it fall back effortlessly. but fuck, he’s already about to cum. one pump champ satoru, he talks a big game for someone who can barely last sometimes. it’s been a while and he didn’t expect for you to feel so good. “s- shit.”

gojo grunts, swollen fat shaft making an attempt to bully its way into your walls. you’re still facing forward, your vision replaced with nothing but pitch darkness before you whine in rapture. he grabs onto your neglected tits, playing with your nipples with the hot tips of his thumbs, and that’s when he starts humping against you. it’s sloppy slow thrusts, grinding his rotating hips against your core as he’s trying to start up a pace but the sensation creeps up against him. “oh, f- fuckkk,” he groans lowly, snowy brows contorting together in pleasure. you’re sucking him in so good, swallowing him whole with your pussy it’s almost embarrassing. as your stomach caves in, you start to pant. chasing your breath ridiculously as if it was a marathon race—gojo was mirroring your actions. it was cute,

your body underneath him continues to jolt before his hand finds its way around your throat, wrapping around like a snake. a thumb caresses the tiny hairs that stand up against your neck before he spanks you.

again, and again and again,

“f-fuck, gonna make me cum. slutty little— hngh.”

right as he’s speaking, gojo spurts out a few droplets of cum, and it turns into a whole bucket. his teeth was shattering, jaw lowering itself open as he’s giving you a nice amount of warm, seasoned cum. it was raunchy, you’re struggling to stay still yourself as your arms could barely hold up your twitching body. your cunt was squelching for all of him and only him, puckering hole just aching to be filled that your tongue stupidly lolls itself out for a few seconds. you still can’t see, yet you can feel everything.

“s- sato—”

“be quiet, wanna listen,” he whines, lightly shoving your head into the mattress. with an oof, your head goes into the pillow as he’s dumping such loads of raw cum right into your welcoming hole. it’s a lot, it’s got him drooling all down your neck, he hates finishing early but he couldn’t help it. gojo’s shaking just as much as you are, pink lips of his press together as he stares at himself pumping you full. with a greedy pout, he flips you over abruptly and snatches his blindfold off you.

still feeling his slimy ropes of cum pour out your pussy and alongside toward the edges of your thighs, you meet his hungry gaze and he’s so needy for more. spreading open your legs, he gets a single taste of his own seed before nibbling against your cunt. “hold still. i- i need to clean you. let me eat, ‘m fuckin’ starved.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO + breeding.

“give me a baby, ‘cho.”

once those sweet five words come from your lips, his eyes widen. leering into them, all you could see was pure lust.

choso was always aware about your breeding kink, how you loved to milk his cock over and over and over again.

and despite knowing he’s infertile - a mere half curse half human being, chances were that he probably wouldn’t even able to give you what you really wanted. except, you liked to pretend. and besides, thanks to you—he started to develop a little breeding kink of his own.

“a b- baby,” he repeats, his words in the mere form of a sweetened question mark. choso’s got you laid on your back, stuffing your cunt full of cock before he pauses. with a thumb stroking your cheek, he has a timid smile. “how many do you want this time, princess?”

playing along, you hum to yourself— throwing your arms over his shoulders. “hmm, let’s try for triplets this time,” and you bring him toward you, planting a kiss against his forehead before feeling his dick twitch inside of your cunt. “can you do that for me baby? leave me full like last time?”

“yeah,” he nods, admiration sparkling in his eyes. the more he stared into your blown, doe irises, the more he falls in love. in love with love, in love with you. choso’s rough hands meet yours, intertwining with your fingers as they tangle with might before he starts up again. “m- mhm, i can do that. i can .. i can give you triplets, promise.”

he was so determined, he didn’t wanna disappoint.

choso’s pace was simply relentless. despite how sweet and tender he was, his rhythmic hips that struck deeply into your core was an entire different story. as bodies move and dance against each other in harmony, you whine against his ear. rough yet sweet yet passionate. “like that, choso. f- fuck, right there baby. don’t miss, p- please.”

your voice were so close up to his earlobe that he could hear the warmth of your breath cascading down from your lips. oh, you sounded like an angel. so harmonic and blissful. it makes his dick throb whilst it’s still plummeting in and out of your insides. skin against skin, it mercilessly slaps against each other, pap and papping away so roughly that it makes your toes curl. “promise, ‘m not gonna miss. gonna g- give you so much, ‘s gonna pour out so much, baby,” and he was even more whinier than you. with breaths of his own leaving out of his filled up lungs, he squeezes against your sprawled out thigh. “ugh, you’re so warm. ‘m not gonna last this time i think. o- oh.”

the thrashing crown of his cock extends inside of your walls and he leans in to kiss you. once, then twice, then thrice. choso’s lips were sweet like candy, as he’s rutting into you — your gummy walls gripping onto him tightly, it starts to pour into you in tiny volumes. it’s so thick, it’s so much that he starts to drool into your mouth. choso slows down as a wadding knot dribbles its way into your welcoming cunt. he whimpers as your lips mash against his, sucking against his tongue. “s- so much, so much to give you, pretty,” he babbles, breaking away from your lips a bit.

you pant right along with him, he goes back to holding your hand, giving it a firm squeeze before his eyes turn hooded. sable drawn pupils never leaves yours, and his cheeks flush with adorable heat. “that’s it baby, jus’ let go ‘n fill me up okay?”

as he’s growing quiet, listening to the sloppy tune between your legs pitch louder, he groans. piles and piles of cum pour into your cunt. it’s so much that it’s not even humanly possible to take it all. so it spills out, right between the crevices of your thighs. it’s insanely gooey, choso stares at it and he’s got the most smug cute grin, knowing he did that. it’s warm and sticky. his ears ring all at once as his tip’s still emitting such ropes of velvety seed into your entrance. “mhm, baby. you always t- take it so well.” he huffs, feeling the weight of his chest deflating. you remain still, laid against the bed frame as he’s just basking in your gorgeous sight. you looked like an angel to him. no, you were an angel, especially with how you were always so cute whenever he came inside. you were moaning just as much as him, eyebrows furrowing and mouth shaped wide and open, so so pretty.

with a huffing sigh, you wrap your arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “thank y- you, ‘cho. feels so good.”

“should be thanking you,” he murmurs, his voice a bit more deep and raspy. as he’s still positioned between your legs, choso grabs your palm, giving it a sweet kiss. mwah after mwah, the texture of his lips couldn’t have been even more warmer. you were so full of cum that you couldn’t even move. you just stayed there, staring deep into his eyes before he whispers against your ear. “marry me, p- please. wanna give you quadruplets next time, baby. be my wifey.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO + daddy kink.

“tch. can never work out without you givin’ me some shit,” he groans as your hips picks up its pace briskly.

toji, being nothing but the usual of covered in perspiring sweat, wears a simple white tee with basketball shorts. lazily, he slouches back against the bench. scheming green eyes peer at your twitching body and your sloppy cunt makes him gnaw on his lip. a big hand, calloused and all squeezes against the fat of your ass. the curvature, he acknowledges every little angle before tracing his fingers alongside your hips. “ya didn’t miss me, you missed dick, huh?”

“i.. i did miss you, toji,” you lie through your teeth, feeling the milky ring around his base stick against your rear. just a few moments ago, he’d just gotten done pumping a load into you. with toji, it was always a lot. he never half assed anything. you’ve been riding him for so long you were surprised your legs didn’t up and give out. collapsing and buckling from his fat cock. “i- missed you s’much, daddy.”

it was an abrupt pause — the silence was strikingly deadly.

a thin brow of his quirks up in amusement before he brings your hips to a sudden stop. you whine, seeing the stretching smirk grow against his face. the scar slashed near the right side of his lips curls in gladden before he grabs your chin. “missed who?”

“missed you, toj-”

“girl don’t fuckin’ play with me,” he side eyes you, gingery peeling your bottom lip down with his thumb. he inches his face closer, and you could smell the intoxicating whiskey on his breath. “who’d you miss? repeat that, y’know ‘m losin’ hearin’ in my right ear, heh.”

he was so sassy, you wanted to roll your eyes but you couldn’t even bother with how stuffed your cunt was. the stretch, another whine was about to rip straight from your throat before you lean into his touch. speaking shyly, you moan as he spanks your ass for you to hurry up. “missed you, daddy,” and the moment toji starts to bounce his thigh, your breathing starts to pick up. the friction has you weak, his jade, verdant eyes staring into your soul. “missed you all day.”

“mhm, y’er a weirdo,” he snickers, feeling his dick throb within you once you call him that. with his muscles flexing idly, you get the urge to touch all around them. so you do, running a hand up his burly biceps before he grabs your wrist. “no touchin’ daddy, gotta say please first. we talked about this, babygirl.”

hearing him address himself as your little kink makes your cunt twitch. as you try to create a bit a movement with your hips, he spanks your ass once more, baring a fang slyly at the gripping fat that recoils from his palm. “t- toji,” and he smacks your ass again, giving you a raising brow. “i mean daddy, can- can i c..cum, please?”

“hnnn,” he grunts lowly, his voice a mere vibration of itself. with the way his tone was so deep, it was raw and scratchy. throaty, he’s still buried into you and your cunt’s still deliriously sobbing for more. you just wanted to move, your arms sling around his broad shoulders before you whimper into his ear. “wanna cum on daddy, eh,” and your eager nod against his chest makes him chortle. you were so eager, entirely so — as you try to create haste, he rolls his eyes. “fine, give it to me.”

and the moment he complies to your desperate wants, you came, giving into your lewd pleasure with the cutest moan leaving your throat. you’re shaking within his hold, two rough hands sliding down your waist as he rests a chin against your neck.

“good, good girl,” he murmurs, cold voice still booming near your lobe. you’re so wet, unapologetically damping his lap with your slick as your hips buck forward. yet, toji wasn’t exactly done. with two thickset hands, he lifts you up before lightly shoving you on the bed, having you lie flat on your bare chest. “nah, don’t get up. stay there,” and his words sent a plethora of butterflies straight toward your pussy. toji takes a moment to stare at your drooling cunt from the back, stopping himself from getting a taste right then and there before he smears his tip against your opening, preparing to go in raw. “shit,” he groans, the left side of your face sinking into the cushioned mattress. as your whines ring and reverb through the thin walls, he lifts your ass right up against him. “arch for me, girl. daddy’s ‘bout ‘ta make ya a mommy, heh.”

[23victoria]

vibes

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: cussing, unwanted touching, bestfriends to lovers

authors note: i listened to vibes by chase atlantic when i wrote this last night really quickly cause i’m so behind on requests. so i’m so sorry if it’s shit! not prof read so sorry for any mistakes, also wrote this on my laptop and not my phone so i think grammarly made auto corrections, sorry about that, any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

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f1 masterlist 1k celebration

The night's buzz is almost overwhelming as you step into the club, the electric energy in the air matching the high spirits of everyone around you. Max had just secured yet another victory and the entire crew decided a night out was the perfect way to celebrate. You’ve known Max for years since you started working as a commentator and interviewer for F1. The two of you clicked instantly, forming a close friendship that grew stronger with time.

But despite the late nights spent together, the countless inside jokes, and the deep conversations shared after long race weekends, there’s always been something unspoken between you. You’ve watched Max go through a relationship, and break up, and now, for some time, he’s been single. It’s been even harder lately to ignore the feelings you’ve harbored for him, but fear of ruining your friendship keeps you silent.

The music pulses through the room, and laughter fills the air as you weave through the crowd with Max by your side. He’s in high spirits tonight, smiling and laughing with everyone, and you can’t help but feel a warmth spread through you seeing him like this. His happiness is contagious, and for a moment, you let go of your reservations and join in the fun.

The music pounds through the speakers, the bass reverberating in your chest as you dance with your friends, lost in the carefree atmosphere of the night. You’re trying to immerse yourself in the moment, to let loose and enjoy the celebration, but something keeps pulling you out of it. You can feel eyes on you, and it’s making your skin crawl. Every time you glance around, you see him—the guy who’s been hovering near you for most of the night, his gaze too intense, too invasive.

You try to shake it off, telling yourself to focus on having fun. After all, you’re here to celebrate Max’s victory, and you don’t want anything to spoil the night. But then, out of nowhere, you feel it—his hand on your waist. It’s like a bucket of cold water has been poured over you, the chill of his touch instantly snapping you out of the moment. You tense up, your body going rigid as alarm bells start ringing in your mind.

You immediately step away, trying to put some distance between you and him, but he’s persistent. He follows, his hand still on you, tightening his grip as he leans in closer. The smell of alcohol on his breath hits you, making you recoil.

“Please, stop touching me,” you say, your voice firm but polite, hoping he’ll get the message and back off. For a moment, it seems like he does—his hand drops from your waist, and he takes a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. You force a smile, relieved that it’s over, and try to get back into the groove of the music, but the unease lingers.

Five minutes pass, and you start to relax again, laughing with your friends as you dance, the earlier tension beginning to fade. But just as you’re starting to enjoy yourself again, you feel it—his hand, creeping back onto your waist. This time, it’s more insistent, more possessive, as he tries to slide it lower, fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of your dress.

Your blood runs cold. Panic surges through you as you try to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you in place. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.

Before you can react, a familiar presence looms over you, and suddenly, the guy is yanked away from you with a force that sends him stumbling back. Max is there, his usually calm and collected demeanor replaced with a fierce, protective anger. He grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close until their faces are just inches apart.

“What the fuck are you doing? Huh?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Max’s voice is sharp, a dangerous edge to it that you rarely hear. His blue eyes blaze with fury as he stares the guy down, every inch of him radiating anger. “Didn’t she tell you to stop? So why the fuck are you touching my girl?! 

The words hang in the air, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His girl. Max just called you his girl. The realization hits you like a freight train, but there’s no time to dwell on it as the bouncer arrives, having noticed the commotion. 

The guy stammers out a half-hearted apology, but Max isn’t having any of it. He pushes him away, standing protectively in front of you. The other drivers, who had been enjoying themselves a moment ago, are now watching intently, ready to back Max up if needed. But the bouncer is already there, having noticed the commotion.

“Get this piece of shit out of here,” Max orders, his voice leaving no room for argument. The bouncer doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the guy and dragging him towards the exit. You can’t help but feel a mix of relief and embarrassment as everyone’s eyes turn back to you. The adrenaline from the confrontation has left you shaken, and all you want to do is get out of there.

“I think…I think I’m going to head home,” you say, your voice a little shaky. The rest of the group immediately offers to leave as well, but you shake your head. “No, you guys stay. Have fun. I just need to get some rest.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Max says, his tone leaving no room for argument. You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to ruin his night, but he cuts you off. “Y/N, I’m taking you home. End of discussion.”

You know better than to argue when he’s in this mood, so you simply nod, letting him lead you out of the club. The car ride is silent, the tension thick between you. You keep replaying the events of the night in your head, trying to make sense of Max’s reaction. The way he called you “his girl” to the guy has your mind spinning, but you don’t dare bring it up, unsure of what it means—or maybe too scared to hope.

When you finally reach your apartment, you hesitate before getting out of the car. “Do you…do you want to come up?” you ask, your voice almost timid. Max looks at you for a moment before nodding.

“Sure.”

Once inside, you head to your room to change into something more comfortable, grateful for a moment to gather your thoughts. Meanwhile, Max busies himself in the kitchen. When you return, you find him making a sandwich, a small, amused smile on his face when he notices you watching.

“I figured you might be hungry,” he says, sliding the plate towards you as you sit at the counter. The two of you eat in silence, the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid hanging in the air.

It’s you who finally breaks the silence. “Max…about tonight…”

He looks up at you, his expression unreadable. “What about it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what’s been on your mind since the moment he stepped in to protect you. “You called me ‘your girl’ back there. Why?”

Max’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you see something in them—something deep, something vulnerable. He sets down his sandwich and leans across the counter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Because…because that’s what you are to me,” he admits, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve always been my girl, Y/N. I just…I never had the guts to say it. I was afraid of messing things up between us, but seeing that guy…seeing him touch you, I just…I couldn’t stand it.”

His words leave you speechless, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy washing over you. You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long, but you never thought you actually would.

“Max…are you saying…?” you trail off, too afraid to finish the sentence, too scared to hope that this could actually be happening.

He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time. I just…I didn’t want to lose you by telling you.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your heart racing in your chest. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face, and you squeeze his hand.**

“I love you too, Max,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve loved you for so long, but I was too scared to say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his face breaking into a wide, relieved smile. “God, we’re such idiots,” he laughs, moving around the counter to pull you into his arms. “All this time, and we’ve both been too afraid to say anything.”

You laugh too, the sound filled with a mix of relief and happiness. “Yeah, we are,” you agree, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “But at least we finally figured it out.”

Max pulls back slightly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “And now that we have,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with emotion, “we have all the time in the world.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with love for this man who’s been your best friend for so long, and now, finally, something more. “Yeah, we do,” you agree softly before leaning up to press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, both of you savoring the moment that’s been a long time coming. But soon, it deepens, the pent-up emotions from years of unspoken feelings pouring out. Max’s hands cup your face as he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go, and you melt into him, feeling like you’re finally where you’re meant to be.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, and you can’t help but laugh again, the joy bubbling up inside you. “We really are idiots,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “How did it take us this long?”

Max chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m just glad we finally got here.”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him again, and this time, the kiss is filled with promise—a promise of a future together, of all the moments you’ll share now that the truth is out. And as you pull him closer, feeling his arms wrap around you, you know that this is just the beginning.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @magixpracticality @eoduuung @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @demyackerman @oledoledoffen @acesbakery @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[fungateshortcakes]

Fight or flight (Logan Howlett x Reader)

Summary: Your sister invited you and your husband Logan to her wedding! Too bad that the wedding was held in your hometown, which was days away from america if you drove by car. There was no other option than to use a plane - Logan wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

Warnings: implied sexual themes (Blowjobs, anal fingering), flight anxiety, possible spelling mistakes bc english Isn't my first language, overall just comforting fluff

Wordcount: 1.1k

Authors note: Does anyone want to peg Logan? Or have some sub!Logan stuff in general? I would write something like that because I have seen so little fics of it, but that makes me wonder if that’s even something people want :/ #JusticeForSubLogan

__________________________________

Logan hated this, he was only doing it for you. Your sister was getting married tomorrow and invited you and Logan to take part at the ceremony. Very nice of her, that also wasn't the issue. The problem was - she was getting married in your hometown, which was days away from america if you drove by car.

So that's why Logan found himself in a plane that was just about to take off.

You had booked a three-seat row to be a bit more comfortable on the eight-hour flight. You could store your bags on the empty middle seat between you and Logan to have free range of motion for your feet and legs. While you sat at the window, he was the furthest away from it. He couldn't bear to see the ground thousands of feets below you, it made his skin crawl.

He had fastened the seatbelt to the point where it was noticeably too tight against his abdomen, but it gave himself a sense of security. That and his right hand clawing at the arm rest while his left hand was crushing squeezing yours as if he was pushing out a baby. He certainly breathed like that was happening right now.

"Relax, the plane hasn't even started to move yet" you giggled softly, wincing at his strong grip. It definitely was a sight to see your husband all tense and stiff next to you, his chest heaving like he had run a marathon. It was amusing and pitiful at the same time.

He gritted his teeth and huffed, trying to calm himself. "We're gonna crash" he pressed out, looking down to his feet. "We are not gonna crash" you told him, squeezing his hand in reassurance. You knew about his past regarding planes and flying in general, that it was traumatic for him. Not to mention his fear of hights that made him feel anxious like nothing else. He felt sick to the stomach, like he was about to throw up. His chest was thight and he couldn't help the laboured breaths escaping him. You weren't doing this to see him suffer, but you weren't about to travel for a week by car and boat just to be at your sisters wedding for a day and traveling back for a week to america.

You lifted his hand up to your lips, kissing his knuckles soothingly. "Nothing will happen to you, nothing will happen to me. I promise"

He scoffed. "I hate you for putting me through this"

You nodded your head and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I know" you cooed. "Don't think I am doing this for fun. But at least she is my only sister to get married, so when we are back in america, you won't have to set foot in a plane for a long while, okay?"

Your words only did a little to sooth his nerves, but he nodded his head anyway. It was one, sharp nod followed by a thick swallow. Logan jumped as the plane started moving suddenly, getting out of his parking spot and heading to the departure zone. He pressed his eyes shut and held his breath, mumbling something to himself you couldn't make out.

You rubbed your hand up and down his arm, softly shushing him. You felt a bit useless in this situation. You wanted to help him, but there was no way you could. Nothing you would say would take his fear and anxiety away, but you were determinded to make it better.

The closer the plane got to the departure zone, the faster was Logans breathing. A few flight attendents passing through had been worried about him, asking if he needed something. But he was so scared he couldn't even answer nor look at them.

"First time flying" you lied awkwardly and asked for a pair of earplugs for him. They were brought to you shortly before the plane was starting to become faster, speeding down the lane and picking up the pace. Logan was busy doing some breathing excercises so he wouldn’t completely pass out. That would have been a better option though, because the second the plane took off and gained more and more distance from the ground, his ears ached like a dagger had been rammed into one ear and went out the other. He hissed deeply at the change of pressure, his grip on the armrest nearly cracking the plastic. For others, the pressure gave them a mild headache, but with his heightened sense of hearing, this was torture, like his skull was slowly ripping apart at the seams.

You shoved your bags on the middle seat under your feet and put the armrests up between the seats so you could pull Logans head closer to you. You twisted the earplugs into his ears and held his head against your chest, one arm looped back over his shoulder and covering his eyes, the other on his chest, feeling the strong and erratic thumpthumpthump of his heart. You kissed the crown of his head, your hand moving from his heart to his arm, softly rubbing and squeezing. He whined softly in your grip at the pain the change of pressure brought him. It was still there, but not as bad.

"Shh, I know. It's gonna be over soon. I won't ever take you on a plane again, I'm so sorry" you whispered to him. "Once that wedding is over and we get to the hotel room, I'm gonna make you re-live our own honeymoon. Gonna make you feel good, I'm gonna make you cum so much to make you forget this experience. I want to make it up to you, baby" you cooed into his ear, your quiet voice only muffled, but he heard you anyway. The image of you handling his cock flashed across his mind. When you were really into pleasuring him, nothing could pull your mouth off his dick. You would be busy devouring him, a few fingers loosening up his tight hole while your tounge circled the throbbing, angry red tip of his cock, making him cum his brains out by just pressing the pads of your fingers against that delicious sweet spot inside him. And you wouldn't stop until he only remembered your name.

He shuddered in your grasp and only a small smile pulled at his lips. Well, at least there was something to look forward to. And he was sure you'd pamper him for fighting through this.

As the plane was at it's desired height, his headache lessened and you were able to let him go to sit up straight again, but not before he gave you a soft, thankful kiss. He was a bit calmer now, not as rigid anymore. All thanks to you. He could do this...but only if you continued to hold his hand and smile at him as if there was not a single thing to worry about in this world.

[leilanihours]

🎥 2 with paige??

# SHE AIN'T NEVER DO THIS BEFORE BUT SHE GOOD AT IT

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

word count: 359

warnings: smut (MDNI), strap (reader receiving)

prompt: "don't run from it, princess, push back on me"

⭑ from lani: the shortest thing ive ever written so i apologize 🙏

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

"YOU DOIN' OKAY?" paige asks from behind you. she had just eased the strap into your soaking cunt, slowly, inch by inch.

she had mentioned the idea when you first started dating, and, of course, you were down, but neither of you had ever acted on it until now.

this was your first time getting fucked with a strap-on, and despite your dating history, you had never felt secure enough in a relationship to do so until you met paige.

but enough of that fluff shit.

"fuck, paige, it's so big," you moan, feeling utterly full with the silicone stuffed inside you.

"yeah? you feel me deep in your pussy?" the blonde smirks as she grips your hips tighter.

"so fucking deep- oh shit-"

your sentence was cut short when you felt paige thrust her hips forward harshly, the strength of the action causing you to jolt forward in surprise.

god, it felt so good, but you were still getting used to the feeling, so you subconsciously started crawling forward, seemingly away from the strap.

"don't run from it, princess, push back on me," paige groans, gently pulling you closer to her, "just try it out."

you oblige, slowly beginning to fuck yourself back onto her. as you increase your pace, the strap repeatedly pushed against your g-spot, leaving you a moaning mess.

"just like that, ma, good girl," your girlfriend praises, hands resting on your ass as she lets you do all the work, "damn, you look so fucking sexy like this."

"feels so good, baby, fuck," you sigh, the feeling of your climax approaching quickly.

the sound of skin clapping and desperate moans fills the air as you work quicker and quicker against the blonde behind you.

"you wanna come on my cock, y/n? huh?" she breathes out, kneading your ass as bounces on the strap.

"please-" you whine, but you're already leaking all over her, your come painting her dick as she begins pulling you against her to work you down from your high.

"that feel good, ma?"

"so good, p, so good."

"well, you better recover fast 'cause we ain't done with this yet."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[beenbaanbuun]

little moments - opposites attract universe

i haven’t updated oa in a while (or posted much for that matter….) so i thought i’d give you this!!! there will be a proper yunho and wooyoung chapter but for now, i hope this will satiate you guys’ appetite hehehe

seonghwa

“might i dress you this morning, my lamb?” seonghwa purrs as he laces a hand through your hair. his nails scratch deliciously against your scalp and you can’t help but lean into his touch. with hongjoong leaving early to meet with a potential buyer and yeosang still fast asleep in his own bed, the room feels cold. all you can do for warmth is tuck yourself into your lovers chest and hope that his gentle touch and bare chest is enough to keep you from shivering. he takes the hint and wraps his arms around you. “i know you have that pretty pink apron dress that you’ve yet to wear; did hongjoong buy you that or was it a gift to yourself?”

you can help but smile into his chest, pressing a soft kiss against his exposed collarbone. “is it really a gift to myself if i used hongjoong’s money?” you ponder aloud, forcing a chuckle out of seonghwa’s mouth. it’s like music to your ears, so sweet and adoring. it fills you up from the tip of your toes to the top of your scalp. it’s so warm and bright; a stark contrast to the darkness that you’ve surrounded yourself with day in day out.

“you chose it, didn’t you?” seonghwa rolls onto his back, tugging at your frame so you roll with him. with your fingers splayed against his pecs, it’s easy to keep your balance when he forces you to straddle his hips. they stay there even once your securely balanced, simply appreciating the feeling of the skin beneath them. “and besides, what’s ours is yours, lamb. there’s no ‘hongjoong’s money’ in this house; it belongs to you too.”

“okay, mommy,” you agree with a knowing smirk on your face. a scowl crawls it’s way onto his as his fingers crawl up to your waist. his grip is tight as he tugs you down to eye level, and you’re so thankful that your arms are there to keep you propped up.

there’s danger written all over his face but you can’t do much else than giggle. it’s just so easy to get a reaction out of them, after all! and when causing trouble gets you exactly where you want, why would you ever want to stop?

“careful with those pretty words, lamb,” his voice dips to a low growl, a clear warning of what is to come if you don’t start behaving soon, “it’ll be a lot harder to tease me when your face is pressed into the pillows.”

hongjoong

“check mate,” hongjoong announces with a grin as he shifts his queen across the chess board. you scowl as you try and find a fault in his move, desperately trying to pick it apart so you can accuse him of cheating or something. even with your limited knowledge of chess, though, you can see clear as day that he’s won, in record time as well.

with a swipe of your hand you clear the board, knocking the wooden pieces to the floor in something rather too similar to a child’s tantrum. you’re a sore loser, you guess; something you have in common with the man sitting across from you with a smug grin on his lips. honestly, you almost dread the day you do beat him at his own game. surely there’ll be hell to pay.

“losers clean up, dove,” he grins, showing you his teeth in a predatory grin. it’s the same smile he gives you before pouncing on you and taking you apart orgasm by orgasm, though over the chessboard it feels less sexy and more irritating. not at all like he’s going to pounce on your and instead more like he’s trying to goad you into doing the pouncing. you’d love nothing more than to do so and wipe that grin right off his face, but you know yourself too well. a single well placed command and you’ll be giving in to his every word like he’s a king and you’re his loyal subject.

“since when is that the rule?” you growl as you pick up a pawn from your lap and slam it down onto the board. it’s a simple act of annoyance that only serves to make his grin even more insufferably wide. it honestly takes you by surprise when you pull back your hand and flick the single pawn in his direction. it’s probably not until it bounces from his chest and lands on his lap that you even realise you’ve done it.

well at least you’ve wiped the smile off his face, you think to yourself as you watch his expression crumble into a look of pure and utter confusion. it’s like he can’t quite believe what you’ve done. there’s silence for a beat or two, and you wait for his reaction with bated breath. but then he chuckles, which then turns into a laugh, which then leads to his head being tossed back and the sound of his amusement rattling through his study.

“you’re a fool, dove,” he says brokenly through his joy, “a downright fool.”

yunho

at this point you’re sure that more than half of the artwork in the kim household is some sort of portrait of you. whether it be you on your own or some sort of family portrait doesn’t really matter to you; it doesn’t change the amount of times you’ve had to sit for them. that uncomfortable seat that yunho makes you perch on every single time is practically moulded to fit your ass and thighs at this point. the dents in the cushion are now perfectly aligned with the curves of your body and yet somehow, someway, it remains to be just as uncomfortable as the first day yunho had you sit for him.

“stop moving,” yunho says from behind his canvas. how he can tell you’re shuffling around, trying to find at least one comfortable spot, you don’t really know. his eyes seem to be trained on his work right now. “i’m trying to get the lighting right on your nose, kid, and i can’t when you won’t sit still.”

“well i can’t sit still if your chair isn’t comfy, yunho,” you scoff and fold your arms, entirely giving up on holding the pose he asked you to. the look of disdain on his face as you turn your head to the side is somewhat amusing, although you can’t help but feel a little bad. annoying mingi is fun; annoying yunho feels like you’re kicking a puppy.

an overgrown, overly-talented puppy.

“you know, annoying you isn’t even satisfying,” you say.

yunho raises a brow. “you’re doing this just to annoy me?” he puts his brush down on the little table next to his easel, as if he’s finished with his work for now. and perhaps he is! perhaps you’re free, at last. if you can force yourself into ignoring the clench of his jaw and the annoyed flicks of his tongue against his lower lip, maybe you can believe that lie. “huh,” he scoffs to himself, “i wonder how hongjoong and seonghwa might feel about their precious darling misbehaving?"

"and i wonder how they'll feel when my spine crumbles to dust because of this stupid chair!" you whine. he can't help but crack a smile at that.

"fine," he conceeds, "if you let me finish this portrait in peace, i'll invest in a new chair for next time, alright?"

yeosang

you bash loudly against yeosang’s door, fed up and tired of being ignored by him all day long. he’d been locked in his room since breakfast, even going as far as to excuse himself early from that. seonghwa had voiced his concern, and hongjoong had agreed; something wasn’t right with their mutt. had they not have already agreed to go to a dinner party at one of seonghwa’s clients homes, they would’ve headed straight to mingi’s with a strangely behaved yeosang in towe. for now it’s just you and your yeosang, and getting him to at least give you a sign of life is at the top of your priorities.

“let me in, yeosang!” you yowl as you repeatedly bash the heel of your hand against his door. you can vaguely hear the shift of bed springs beneath the sound of skin on wood, and yet somehow it still surprises you when you hear the click of a lock coming undone. you’ve never done anything quicker than slamming that door open to grant yourself access to your companion’s room. you see him flinch at the sound as he scrambled to get beneath his quilt once more. “what’s wrong with you?”

you take a few steps closer, only to notice the beads of sweat that drip down his face, and the unhappy scowl that perches upon his pretty lips. he looks sick, kind of like he has the flu, and as he pulls his quilt up to his chin, he looks frail. he shivers, despite the sweat that coats him, and his usually alert ears are lying flat atop his skull. another few steps closer and you’re at his bedside, within arms reach but still unsure of what course of action you should take.

“yeosang, wha—”

“pre-rut symptoms,” he cuts you off with a mopey grunt. “i don’t normally get them but i’m late this time, and it seems like my body is out to punish me for that.” he turns over so he’s facing you, eyes pathetic and wet.

“should i call san? ask him to bring them back?” you ask, but he just shakes his head.

“that won’t do anything but make them panic,” he pulls the quilt back as he speaks; a silent invitation that you want nothing more than to take. “just come and cuddle and i’m sure i’ll be cured in no time.”

san

“i’m hungry,” you whisper to hongjoong in the dead of night. judging by the chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway, it’s just after 3 am. he’s barely awake, and yet as he loosens his grip on your body, he still manages to mumble something about you abandoning him. you plant a kiss on his cheek as you crawl over him to exit the bed, hoping it’ll be enough to satiate him and send him right back to sleep.

the walk to the kitchen is quiet, as it usually it at this time of night. except for the squeaky floorboards and the low, bearish snores coming from the living room, there’s nothing. you’d almost call it eerie, but can a girl with a ghost and a werewolf as a best friend really be the judge of that?

you reach the kitchen in no time, but before you push the door open, something makes you pause. a new sound. not jongho or the floorboards, but something entirely different. someone’s crying in there. heaving sobs and small whimpers fill the air, and without even giving it a second thought, you push open the door.

it’s san, dressed in a pair of plaid pyjamas with a matching sleep mask on his forehead to keep his hair out of his face. his eyes are so swollen and puffy that you wonder how he can even see what he’s cooking on the stove. “san?” you say to catch his attention, your voice barely above a whisper. he jumps and looks at you with wide—well, as wide as they can be when they’re swollen with tears—eyes. desperate hands fly up to wipe away the tear tracks from him face, but it’s too late. you’ve already seen him in that state, so what’s the use?

there’s a deep sigh as he drops his hands back to his sides. “you weren’t mean to see me like this,” he warbles, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. of course you weren’t meant to see him sobbing into a pan; that doesn’t change the fact that you did.

“what’s up, sannie?”

at first he shakes his head, but then he realises who he’s talking to. you’ll only press if he doesn’t tell you, or threaten to tell seonghwa who will only suffocate him with his overbearing tendencies. it’s safer to just tell you.

“this dish just smells like my mum’s cooking," he tries to shrug as if its nothing. as if you haven't just caught him in the middle of an emotional breakdown. "i just miss home sometimes, that's all."

you pull a seat out and drop yourself into it. "would you ever go back?" you ask.

he shakes his head.

"never."

mingi

“why am i stuck with you, again?” mingi groans as he paces along the bookshelves in the lounge. he brushes his fingers along the spines, barely ever stopping to take the time to read what they say.

“because you are,” you scowl at him, which only gets you a glare in return. “fine,” you scoff, “hongjoong is busy with work, seonghwa is in the garden tending the vegetable patch, yeosang is in the garden doing whatever werewolf’s do, and you came unannounced. unless you want me to summon my ghost friend, you’ll have to wait until they’re all finished.”

a look of horror passes over his face as you bring up your ghost, and as much as you’d love to invite your favourite dead bear demon to join you, you can’t help but feel like it will get you into a fair amount of trouble. not the fun kind that leaves you breathless and aching in the best way possible, but the kind that gets you scolded by seonghwa. you can almost imagine what he’d say now. ‘you can’t use jongho as a prank! it’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to mingi!’ he’d be right of course, so instead of calling his name and asking him to appear, you simply fold your arms.

“why are you here, anyway?” you ponder aloud, “don’t you have a werewolf sanctuary to run?”

he gives an unsatisfied grunt. “that’s the problem,” his fingers pull back from the shelf of books, rings glittering in the candlelight as he wipes frustratedly at his face. "i cant do this alone, anymore. more and more werewolves keep coming in and i have the space, but not the staff. do you know how hard it is to feed those guys three times a day? i barely get to spend any time with them because i'm never out of the kitchen."

you want to make a joke about how they must have it much harder than him actually having to eat his cooking, but you bite your tongue. again, you don't want him running to seonghwa spouting off about how 'mean' you've been to him. instead you begin to wrack your brain.

"well," you begin as your brain begins to formulate an idea. whether its a good idea or not is up for debate, but there's no harm in mentioning it, right? mingi can either say yes or no; he has the power here. "i have a friend who's just moved back to town. he's a paranormal investigator so he's used to this kind of stuff..."

mingi ponders it for a second or two before nodding. "tell him to meet me on bakewell street tomorrow, no later than 11."

wooyoung

wooyoung is brash as he pushes his way through the cafe back to his seat across from yours. yells of 'i'm sorry!' and 'careful, i'm right behind you!' echo through the room, despite the fact that he isn't even in your line of sight yet. you almost regret saying yes to coming here with him, yet he'd been so insistent. apparently whenever he's at the house he cant help but feel like he's going to be pounced upon by a jealous werewolf; you, personally, don't see the issue with that.

finally, he breaches the crowd and stumbles his way to your table with a sly grin and tray in hand. as he puts it down atop the table you can’t help but notice that the two cups are practically swimming in all the coffee he spilt. the cups are almost half empty, you think to yourself as you grab one and take a sip. the warm liquid washes over your tongue soothingly, and you let out a relaxed sigh.

“is it good?” wooyoung asks excitedly rather than taking a sip of his own and seeing for himself. you nod before going back for seconds. it is good. “yunho told me about this place! said he liked to come here and sketch whenever he has no ongoing projects.”

you chuckle a little as you put your almost empty mug against the table. between most of it being spilt and your two sips, there really isn’t a lot for you to drink. “i take it life is good with your new roommate then?”

he nods excitedly.

“yunho is really cool,” you shrug, only half agreeing. he feels more like a narc-esque older brother to you, but you daren’t break wooyoung’s spirit. “and there’s so many dead people in that morgue! i can continue my blog without without having to beg rich people to investigate their homes.”

you hum, “and you don’t have to live in that grimy van anymore!” he just shrugs in response.

“funnily enough, the van was never an issue.”

“you’re gross…”

jongho

“jongho?” you call out as you storm your way into the living room. you’ve been kicked out of yeosang’s room, again, and you’re in desperate need of amusement. well, attention would probably be a better way to put it yet somehow your pride refuses to let you admit that. “you are in here right?”

a breeze passes through the room as you sit yourself down on the rug that is inseparable from your friend. you lace your fingers through the fur as the breeze gets stronger. you blink, only a millisecond passing before you open your eyes again. when you do, he’s there, tear tracks on his cheeks and a heavy fur pelt draped over his shoulder. he smiles through the tears, his nose scrunching cutely in a way that makes you adore him even more. for a demon, he’s awfully sweet.

“hello, friend,” he leans in close, the concept of physical boundaries remaining a complicated topic for him. after all, he’s spent months and months just sat watching you and yeosang. it was pretty early on that you found out that jongho just didn’t understand that your friendship with yeosang was entirely different to your friendship with him. he’s never had a friend before; how is he supposed to know that every friendship is different?

“hi, jongho,” you giggle as you rest a gentle hand on his shoulder to push him back onto his haunches. it takes little to no resistance which is just another sign that there is not a single evil bone in his body. it’s hard to even comprehend him as anything but a darling, and you certainly can’t see a ferocious killer. there’s too much kindness in his heart for that. “how’s haunting going?”

“haunting?” he tilts his head in confusion.

“yeah! you’re a ghost occupying a house,” you explain, although the look of confusion never really leaves his eyes, “therefore you’re haunting, jongho.”

“but,” he bites his lip, “i’m not occupying this house by choice! am i still haunting?”

you shrug, realising the topic of conversation is way outside of your breadth of knowledge regarding ghosts. what seonghwa tells you is law, and he never really got into the specifics of haunting. besides, now you’re the one who’s intrigued. you lean in a little closer to him this time.

“what if you did have a choice?” you ask, curiosity filling you up from the tip of your toes right to the very top of your head. “would you go elsewhere?”

it takes mere seconds for jongho to shake it head, and you have to breathe a sigh of relief. the knowledge that he wants to be here is comforting in a way; it means he isn’t really here against his will, even if technically speaking he is.

“why would i want to go anywhere else?” he says, “i have you here, friend.”

[blueicequeen19]

Red Flag

Warnings: unprotected forbidden sex with Rafe, oral, choking

My back hits the bed and I momentarily try to remember how we got here. Again. I’m stripped bare and he’s still fully clothed as he comes down on top of me. His lips claim mine in a searing kiss that has me clinging to him like a lifeline, desire flooding my veins. I know I’m drenched between my thighs and he hasn’t even ventured down there yet. That’s just the effect he has on me.

“You drive me insane.” He pants against my lips, securing my wrists with one of his large hands while he begins his worship over my flushed skin. His lips, tongue, and teeth find my neck, my throat, my chest, between my breasts but never my nipples. I arch into him and he chuckles darkly, looking up to flash me that wicked smile of his.

“Patience.” I don’t tell him I don’t have any patience left because the fear of getting caught with him again is strumming through my veins. Especially after everything that’s happened. My brother would never forgive me.

My mind is zapped back to the present when his skilled mouth finally closes around my hardened nipple and I fight the hold he has on my wrists, squirming beneath him.

“T-this is wrong.” I rasp, his dark blue eyes snapping up to find mine even with my flesh in his mouth. “We shouldn’t do this.” My words end on a mewl when his free hand dips between my legs to cup me.

“But it feels so good when we do.” I forget all the reasons why we shouldn’t when his skilled fingers circle my clit, driving me delirious with need. He doesn’t dip inside and I know he’s doing it on purpose, making me chase the high instead of answers.

“Always so goddamn wet for me. You were made for me.” My insides heat with his words as he releases my wrists to move down my body, leaving kisses and marks as he goes. His large shoulders take up the space between my knees as he gets settled. I open my mouth for another protest when he gives me a warning shake of his head before leaning down to lick from my opening to my clit without breaking eye contact.

“Rafe..” I sob, my back arching off his bed.

“That’s right, baby, say my name.” Another expert stroke of his tongue. “Who’s eating this sweet pussy?” He applies suction and I swear I see stars.

I don’t realize he’s waiting for a response until he stops and I’m struggling to catch my breath.

“Answer me. Who owns you and this cunt?”

“You do.” I breathe, sucking in a breath as he quickly devours my soul through my pussy. Why was he so good at that? Who was he practicing on before me?

“Fuck, you taste good. This is all mine.” Rafe yanks me closer with a firm grip on my hips, my legs now over his shoulders. My thighs start to tremble as he rotates between sucking on my clit and plunging his tongue inside me.

Why did he have to say such things? Things made me crave him even more. He knows we can’t be together. Even if he hadn’t got my brother arrested.

“Rafe!” I cry, my body threatening to explode as I fist his hair but he’s quicker, withdrawing his mouth and crawling back up my body to fuse our mouths together. I taste myself on his tongue as I shamelessly grind on the erection in his pants. Nothing else seems to matter but the climax I’m chasing.

“I love it when you use me for your pleasure. You’d get off just like this, wouldn’t you? You don’t even need my cock.”

“No, please, I need it. Rafe, please.” I fist his shirt, feeling him smirk against my lips as he grabs a handful of my ass.

“I love it when you beg.” His voice is lower now, laced with desire and promise to give me what I need. I feel his hands freeing his cock from his pants, then the smooth, velvety length of him is pressing against my thigh, smearing his precum on my skin. I don’t bother to ask about a condom. I know he doesn’t wear them.

“Put me inside you, pretty girl. Take what you need.” His lips are on mine again as I reach between us to wrap my hand around his thick girth. I stoke him a few times but I’m too desperate to torture him the way he has me. I guide him where I’m aching to be filled and he groans when he meets my wet heat.

“Oh, baby, I think I’m in love with you and this pussy.” Rafe moans loudly as he finally sinks inside me, the wind knocked from my lungs as he reaches too deep and I almost miss what he said.

“Wait, what?” I wheeze, my nails biting into his biceps as he starts to move. God, why did he have to feel so good?

“I said I think I’m in love with you.” Rafe rasps in that deep, sex filled voice of his. My legs widen on their own, needing him as close as possible as he starts to pound into me, his balls slapping against me.

“You can’t.. this is not..” I’m trying to clear the fog he’s put me in but I can’t. It was one thing to write this off as sex but how could I play it off when he was declaring love? JJ was going to disown me then kill me.

“I can’t what? I can’t help how I feel about you. I know you feel it too. Well.. you feel something right now. It could be love.” He flashes me that cocky grin just as he angles his hips to reach deeper.

“No.. this isn’t..” I push at his chest but he quickly scoops my legs over his arms, driving into me harder and faster. My eye lids flutter as heat spreads between my legs.

“Cum for me. I know you need it.” His fingers find my clit and I go off like a bomb, his lips silencing my cries as to not disturb his family downstairs. I’m shaking as I come down, the fog starting to clear but not enough. I’m suddenly flipped onto my stomach and he drapes himself over my back, discarding his clothes as he enters me from behind. I moan loudly into the pillow, his lips on my neck as he fucks me into the mattress. I grab the headboard and he wraps his fingers around my throat.

“Your brother is the only reason you’re fighting me.” Rafe growls in my ear, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room. I was so wet I could feel myself dripping between my thighs.

“You’re a w-walking red flag.” I gasp, turning my head when he tries to kiss me. He chuckles, turning my mouth back towards his as he slams into me harder.

“Good thing red is your favorite color.”

[chibinasuu]

Steady as She Goes | Jinbe & Reader

Part of the Thousand Sunny Slice-of-Life Series

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

Summary: You and Jinbe share a quiet moment at the helm in the calm after the storm Word count: 965  Tags: one-shot, pure fluff, domestic bliss onboard the sunny, platonic straw hat pirates x reader, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!Reader in mind

“Zoro! Sanji! Reef the mainsail!” Nami shouted above the howling winds, “Jinbe, head forty-five degrees starboard! We’ll be out of this soon!”

The crew moved in a practiced manner, almost on autopilot. This was not the first, and definitely not the worst storm they’ve ever experienced in the Grand Line. 

Salty sprays of seawater mixed with the pouring rain soon had you drenched as your fingers deftly worked to secure the rigging, tugging on the ropes to make sure they were fastened correctly. 

“Huge waves incoming! Brace yourselves!” Someone shouted, the cacophony of wind, thunder, and rain so loud that you could barely register the command. 

You tried to readjust your grip on the ropes, hoping to get a stronger hold, but before you could do that, the Sunny crashed onto an oncoming wave, bringing a flood of salt water onto the deck. The strong impact lifted your body a few inches off the ground, and you felt your heart drop as the rope was brutally torn away from your grasp. 

The slippery floor didn’t help as you tried to regain your footing, and another lurch of the ship sent you sliding across the deck. You closed your eyes, bracing for impact, but it never came. Instead, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist and pull you to your feet. 

You open your eyes to find Jinbe — one arm supporting you, whilst his other hand wrangled the helm in an effort to keep it steady. 

“Is the rigging secured?!” Jinbe roared.

You could only nod, your body still shaking from the shock. 

Jinbe gave your back a firm pat then barked loudly, “Then get inside! Now!”

You half-crawled, half-stumbled your way into the dining room, where you found Chopper and Robin.

Dozens of hands were sprouting from various surfaces, working to secure loose items in the room.

Chopper fussed over you when you staggered through the door, “You’re bleeding! Let me grab the first aid kit!”

In the heat of things, you didn’t realize the friction from the coarse ropes had caused ribbons of blood to flow from your palms. You sat quietly as Chopper bandaged your hands, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible amid the violent rocking of the ship. 

After a while, the movement of the ship gradually slowed to a gentle sway as the Thousand Sunny escaped from the storm safely, thanks to Nami’s expert directions and Jinbe’s masterful steering.

The Straw Hats were all slumped on the chairs of the dining table, huddled with towels, clearly exhausted from their brush with the harsh weather. Well, everyone except Jinbe, who insisted on remaining at the helm to readjust the ship’s course and monitor its bearing amid the shifting winds. Sanji poured steaming cups of tea for the crew to warm up their bodies, and you offered to take one to your helmsman. 

You found Jinbe at the helm, hands fixed on the wheel and eyes on the horizon.

“Hi, Jinbe.” You said, alerting him of your presence. 

Jinbe smiled gently at you, “How are your hands?”

“Oh, they’re fine. Chopper patched them up nicely.” You offered him the tea, “Thanks for saving me earlier. I would’ve hurt more than my hands if it wasn’t for you.”

He took the cup, taking a sip before saying, “I apologize for raising my voice at you.”

You shook your head, “I know you were just looking out for me. It was me who made a mistake.”

He chuckled, “Mistakes happen, kid. And sometimes it wasn’t even your fault – just bad luck.”

Jinbe gulped down his tea, put down his empty cup, and repositioned his hands back on the wheel. You both stood in silence, eyes on the open sea. You turned toward Jinbe and observed his unmoving stance, firm and steady. After a while of him staying still as a rock, you wondered aloud, “Does it ever get boring? Manning the helm when the weather is calm like this?”

Jinbe guffawed at your frank question, “Once you’ve been sailing as long as I do, kid, boring is good. You’ll learn to appreciate the quiet moments.” He gestured for you to come closer, “Wanna take her for a spin?”

You excitedly nodded, never really having a chance to take the helm before. 

Jinbe guided your hands and placed them in the proper position on the wheel. He pointed at the middle needle of the log pose, “That’s the one we’re following right now.” 

“Now, just keep her steady.” He instructed you, “Feel the winds. It will try to pull us off course, and when that happens, you will need to guide Sunny to stay on the right track.”

You turned the wheel experimentally but didn’t feel the ship shift its direction. You were about to turn it further when Jinbe’s hand stopped you, “Patience. Sunny is a big ship, it takes a little time for her to listen to your commands.”

True to his word, a few seconds later, the Sunny slowly altered its heading according to your will, turning slightly away from where the Log Pose’s needle was pointing. You glowed in delight at your successful attempt, before turning the wheel in the opposite direction to return the ship to its original course. 

Jinbe laughed, “You’ll make a fine helmsman!”

You relinquished the helm back to Jinbe and stood beside him, basking in the orange glow of the setting sun and reveling in the calm after the storm. 

No words were spoken between the two of you after that, but the silence was a comfortable one.

Under Jinbe’s guidance, the Thousand Sunny sailed over the waves, inching forward toward your next destination. You couldn’t quiet your heartbeat as it pounded in anticipation of what adventure your crew would find next.

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 7

Read Ding here | ~4.6k words

Warnings: punching, fighting, fixing my cliff hanger from the previous part.

From me: This is the last part, but I tried to keep the ending open a bit so I could come back if you want 💕 thanks for reading this one. Hope you liked it!

Summary: Harry isn't the only one fighting the night of the biggest match of his career.

Three minutes.

Each round was three minutes.

She thought over the last few months of watching Harry train had engraved a three-minute timer into her internal clock. Like her mind was able to simultaneously count out 180 seconds and continue working on whatever project she was tasked with at the time.

The crowd was so loud—just several feet behind a door. She thought about her phone. The one she left with Niall so it wouldn’t get lost while she tried to get towels, food, and use the restroom. Alongside Harry’s phone. Part of her believed even if she could have used it, Niall wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She straightened her back, standing taller and preparing herself. She pulled against his grip on her arm. Her heart was pounding but she felt it in her bones.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She heard Harry’s voice teaching her all the self-defense moves she had practiced for months in the back of her head. She thought about the classes, the training in her living room.

The goal isn’t to win. S’not a boxing match. Want t’minimize you getting hurt. Your only goal is t’get away safely. If y’get away, you’re gonna come find me, Cupcake. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you.

“What’s your problem?” She snapped.

“You told other girls about me?”

“No, I warned them.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her.

“You’re a bitch.” She tried to keep the nerves from getting to her.

She could run out the back door and try her best to get to the front again. Harry would understand. It would be better than being the sitting duck she was now. There was the whole no phone thing but at least the security guard would recognize her. He would keep an eye on her. No way he’d be willing to face the wrath of Harry for not doing so.

She pulled on her arm again trying to loosen his grip. She thought about the shower she took after their date. If it could really be called a date. Despite everything happening in the moment she had the intense desire to look up the definition of date because that could nothave been a date. A date had to have some sort of mutual feeling of companionship or amicable emotion. The way his body felt on hers made her skin crawl.

She didn’t want it then and she didn’t want it now.

“Let go,” she ordered.

“You’re—”

“I said let go,” she pulled hard, dragging both of them further back into the room but closer to the backdoor.

“Stop—”

“Let go, or you’ll regret it.”

He chuckled; it sounded sarcastic. Disbelief evident in his tone—even his short laughter. “What are you going to do?” He taunted. Honestly, part of her wanted to know the same thing. What was his plan? Attack her alone in the back of this place? It was obvious. Niall would come looking for her sooner or later. Someone would come back here because they needed towels. It was a matter of when not if. All she needed to do was hold him off.

Fortunately, she had been given all the lessons on how to do just that.

“Let go,” she repeated, feeling stronger than that awful night and more so than she had in the months since. “Harry—”

“Your boyfriend is busy.”

With a deep breath, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. Was the round over? She didn’t know. But she knew Harry was safe. Harry would never fuck around with consent. He said so himself. Harry was going to rip Jack’s arm off. Hell, Harry would rip his own arm off if she asked him to.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Clenched her jaw and yanked on her wrist in his hand again. “If you don’t let go, he’s going to see. Then you’ll wish you never touched me,” she vowed.

He smiled darkly. “He’s not going to see,” he promised.

Despite how much stronger she felt than the day she met him, she was still scared. Her stomach twisted; nausea ensued. There was a genuine fear growing inside her that felt very similar to how it felt right before she thought was going to throw up. The feeling rose to her throat, and it took all her control to swallow it back down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and brought all the steps and moves Harry had taught her in the self-defense classes to the forefront of her mind.

Jack was bigger, stronger, and way more terrifying than she was.

But she was determinedto get away.

“Let. Go.” She ground her teeth together tugging on her arm that she knew was going to bruise.

“Just—”

“I’m going to scream,” she could see the irritation on his face as she continued to interrupt him.

“Don’t you dare you stupid, little—”

She was glad her dominant hand was free and used it smashed her palm into his nose so hard she felt a crunch and was immediately met with a stream of blood. It poured immediately on her hand, and she should have been more grossed out but before she could think about it for long, she bolted back for the main room.

He groaned loudly but chased after her. He reached her at the door, grabbed her arm, and flung her back to the ground. She yelped as her body landed with a thud. Her head hit the ground making her wince involuntarily. She could hear people cheering. No one would hear her if she screamed. He knew that.

Harry wouldn’t get to her.

The mere thought terrified her.

She kicked. Making minimal contact with some part of him but did leave him incapacitated for just a moment—a moment she needed. He cursed lowly under his breath. Her mind was working at the same slow pace she crawled and clawed at the ground, blood dripping on her shirt from his nose as he stood over her clutching his groin. Harry told her the most vulnerable position she could be was defending herself on her back. She was mortified. Her adrenaline screamed through her veins.

The announcer was calling something about Harry and the match. There’s a ding, ding, ding signaling the end of the round or the beginning of the next. She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was she wanted to be in there. She wanted Harry to see her. She was certain he would stop in the middle of a round for her.

“You broke my nose,” He snarled.

It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from saying good with a smug smile. Her heart was in her throat. Clawing uselessly at the floor knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere at that rate. She kicked again, trying to remember the training and the moves Harry made her practice in her apartment. Her instinct was taking over and arguably making it worse for her just as Harry had warned.

The air suddenly felt so thin. It was difficult for her to keep breathing steady—scared and anxious out of her mind. She could see little black dots in her vision with anxiety taking over. The roar of the crowd made everything she needed to do impossible to focus on.

But the little voice in her head had a nearly melodic British accent now. Slow, steady. Encouraging.

It screamed at her to get up and keep going.

She slammed her foot into his leg, just at his knee, knocking him off balance. He landed just as hard as she did. She knew he was going to get up quick, so she needed to be quicker. She leapt from the floor and burst through the double doors. She sprinted toward the ring. He was hot on her heels she could feel it, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Not when security shouted at her and not when the attention of people watching finally got them yelling for her.

She told Harry earlier that day she wasn’t lucky. But at that moment she was. Perhaps the luckiest person ever. She felt it in her bones, and she planned to thank every divine spirit in the universe when she reflected on it later. There was the briefest moment in every round right after the bell rang where there was the slightest down pitch in volume as the cheering stopped and people waited to see who would make the first move in the ring.

That moment happened the second she was close enough for her voice to carry the final distance to Harry. “Harry!” Her voice was cracked and broken but she knewhe heard it just because of the volume of her shriek. She believed everyone in the arena heard it.

She wasn’t quiet about it; just like Harry (and Louis) taught her. Her voice was so loud even the referee looked over and watched as the man chasing her grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. Her head hit hard against the hardwood. Stars reappeared in her vision, and she wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. For a moment she was stunned. Forgot that she was supposed to be fighting for her safety. Defending herself. The seconds ticked by so slowly, she wondered if she was going to pass out. There was a deafening quiet, muffled shouting; like a scene in a movie where the hero is aware of her surroundings but can’t quite get a grasp on it.

It was weird it was happening to her in real time, and she blinked rapidly trying to get her vision to focus and her hearing to return. But she was able to register in her confused mind that she was in the main arena. Because even if Harry didn’t hear her, she knew that everyone saw him take her down to the floor.

That was the goal. To get away and find a crowd.

She did it.

“You stupid, fucking bit—” the sound came roaring back so loudly it felt like he was shouting right in her ear. But he was standing above her again still dripping blood on her clothing. His face was in her vision for half a second. But that was all he got. Half a second. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her heart was flying so fast, so she knewhis smug expression was hardly in her scattered vision for a mere fraction of a second. Not even one whole beat thudded against her ribcage and then he was gone.

Once more someone was standing over her, but unlike moments before, she felt so utterly safe.

Harry was there. Like some Greek god scorned. She almost felt bad for Jack. Because the thought of being on the receiving end of the look she could only imagine Harry was giving made her shiver. Half-naked, his black shorts, his black gloves hung at his hips, and she could tell his hands were balled into tight fists inside his gloves. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders even at her angle. The heaving breaths he was taking.

Briefly, he turned his neck, to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were furious and wild. There was a cut on his eyebrow again—probably the same one that kept reopening without the proper time to heal. She could see the redness on his ribcage starting where she knew he’d be bruised like a peach in the morning. His jaw was sharp, teeth gnashed together, lip curled in a terrifying snarl.

He turned back to him, on the ground, holding his face with blood still pouring from his nose. “You goddamn piece of fucking shit,” he growled.

The adrenaline in her veins stopped working overtime. With Harry standing over her, his feet shoulder width apart straddled on either side of her legs she felt herself relax. He was ready to fight—of course he was. He was in the ring only moments ago. His stance was itching to punch someone. He had that look in his eye that he had in the first round. But now it could have been the fifth or six round that she had interrupted. She didn’t know because she wasn’t there to see and lost track of counting the seconds. “What did you do to her?” He snarled.

Reason began to return to her mind. Harry was going to kill him—which would really put a damper on their night if he went to jail or something. “Harry,” her voice broke hoping that maybe he’d just let it go. She was safe now.

But she also knew it was well past the point of return for her boyfriend. Someone hurt her. He saw it.

Harry wouldn’t take it lightly. Couldn’t. He promised her dad. He promised her.

“Harry,” Louis hissed sensing the same thing that she did.

“Oh shit,” Niall hurried to her. “Are you alright, Cupcake?” he cooed gently and tugged her from beneath the arms and out from under Harry’s threatening stance. Niall held her the way she wanted Harry to hold her. His hands were on her cheeks, assessing her quickly, searching for a signal that she was okay. “Is this you?” He asked, looking at the blood all over her shirt as he searched for the injury that caused it.

Harry was still heaving, waiting for his opportunity. Her voice was dead in her throat trying to answer Niall but the only word that would leave her mouth was Harry’s name. It made him even angrier; terrified and hurt that she was possibly hurt. So hurt she couldn’t respond to Niall’s question—a question that Harry wanted her to answer just as badly.

“She broke my fucking nose,” he growled, eyes intent on her even though he nearly had to peer around Harry to look at her.

The whole arena froze.

She couldn’t see Harry’s face any longer, but she could sense a pleased smile was on his lips. Niall glanced away from checking her over as the smile passed over his lips as well. Hiding how happy he was that the blood was not hers. Louis, despite how pissed he was at Harry, couldn’t help the little smile that graced his face, either; proud that she used his lessons to help herself.

She swore everyone in that arena was smiling.

Harry turned back to her in Niall’s arms and winked at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

In spite of how scared she was, how sad she was, how much her head hurt… nothing but pride filled her body in that moment.

Then Harry lunged for him.

*

It took Niall, Louis, and Harry’s opponent from the ring to pull him away from pummeling him beyond recognition. Niall had nearly dropped her after he lunged. Grabbing his arms before he could do more damage than two punches. Louis suffered at least one punch to the face himself which she was sure was going to be returned in kind during Harry’s next training session. It would probably do Louis wonders to just punch Harry once and for all.

But naturally, it was her that stopped him. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down but she stood anyway. As Harry fought tooth and nail to be released from the hold of his friends and opponent, she stepped in front of him catching his murderous gaze. “Harry please,” she pleaded her eyes watery with all kinds of emotions coursing through her. She was wobbly on her feet, and she felt a little nauseous fearing her head injury was worse than she thought without all the adrenaline flowing through her. She put a hand on her head and winced in pain while trying to keep herself from swaying in front of him.

There were police and security guards and all kinds of shouting. But Harry finally saw her, his breath was shallow, his opponent from the ring was standing in front of him as well; a gloved hand pressed to his chest while Niall and Louis held each arm forcing him back. But it was her voice, her tear-filled eyes, that made him stop. His breathing started to slow. He swallowed hard, glaring at the opponent he wanted more than the one that was in the ring only a few moments earlier.

He gave Louis and Niall a shove. “M’alright,” he snapped and pushed his opponent out of the way. Within two seconds she was in his arms. Feet floating off the ground and he swore he never heard the crowd cheer for him the way they did then.

Harry didn’t even revel in it. He loved boxing. It was cathartic for him. Competitively, he was good at it. But he wanted nothing more than to not be in that arena and never come back. Her body was warm against his skin. He was cool with sweat. “Let’s go, Cupcake,” he murmured in her ear and started back for the locker room.

*

Harry was disqualified from his match. A single “1” in his loss column that upset her more than it did him. He was icing her hand and arm where his fingerprints left bruises. He kept rubbing her shoulders, her temples, and any of her muscles that ached in her back without the hormones that dulled her senses during her own fight. The intensity of it all, all that adrenaline subsided and made her body crash. All her muscles ached with the notion something happened.

And she stopped it.

Harry, despite everything, could not stop smiling as if she had boxed her own match and won. “I’m so proud of you, Cupcake,” he murmured and kissed the back of her achy head. It was sore from where it hit the floor (twice—once harder than the other). Louis deduced she did have a concussion; so, Harry was doting on her as if his life depended on it. Now that they were home in his apartment, he was much calmer—surprisingly. Granted, inside his home was safe. She imagined anywhere in public he was going to turn into a bit of a crazy person when it came to her safety. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see him in action. She didn’t want him to act insane, but the worry was nice in his own way. (Plus, she was pretty certain she could get him to relax with the promise of kisses.) “When you’re able to, I want to know everything.”

“I don’t like punching,” she told him wrinkling her nose even though he couldn’t see her. He chuckled.

“I know, kitten.” He shifted her in his lap so she was propped against the armrest of his sofa, her legs strewn across his thighs. Now he could see her face. His smile was lazy, adorable, boyish once more. Hard to believe someone so cute could be terrifying when needed.

“I broke his nose,” she reminded him quietly.

“I know, Cupcake,” he answered tiredly. His own body was sore, his mind exhausted. She could see him practically snoring while talking his eyes turning to slits as he tilled his head against the back of the couch. One arm draped over the front of her body protectively. His other hand pulled at her hair gently as possible, massaging her scalp where he knew that horrible, moronic man yanked it hardest when she was running from him. “M’so proud of you,” he murmured.

Her cheeks turned pink under his praise, but she remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you were disqualified,” her frown was deep.

“Kitten,” he tutted opening his eyes at the same time, a renewed sense of energy had him looking at her with such disapproval. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Nothing’s important as you,” he promised, a frown touching his lips.

“But you were undefeated, it bothers me.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes again—maybe the smallest part of him feeling bad for himself. “But it doesn’t bother me, Cupcake. I’d rather lose m’undefeated record for this than ever let something happen t’you. Rather have a losing record. Far as m’concerned, m’still undefeated. Honestly, y’should see the other guy,” he smirked ruefully. She watched his gentle breathing, felt the soft pull of her hair on the back of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“I wish I could’ve—”

“Uh-uh, Cupcake,” he interrupted, his voice quietly on the edge of sleep. His mind reeled with the thoughts from the locker room.

Harry paced, still angry beyond belief. He settled her on the bench that he usually sat on after a fight. His doctor and Louis looked her over. “She hit her head hard on the ground,” Louis murmured looming over the doctor’s shoulder as he examined her eyes. Harry punched the locker nearby creating a dent the size of his glove. She flinched at the sound as he paced. The doctor didn’t move.

“Twice,” she offered weakly.

Twice? He growled low in his throat. Niall was right beside him in case he tried to make a break for it and find him again. Niall planned on tripping Harry worst case scenario to keep him from leaving.

“Twice?” Louis repeated curiously. “Shit, babe,” he frowned. Harry punched the locker two more times, making her flinch again. “Harry, she’s already scared out of her mind,” he snapped angrily. Harry was still pacing. Niall paced alongside him, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes locked on Harry as he paced, and the doctor looked her over. She felt like she was blinking a thousand times per second. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry.

“Do you have any other injuries?” The doctor asked. She shook her head.

“Just my head.”

“You’re sure? This is a lot of blood.”

Harry growled again. She glanced at him nervously again. “S’not mine,” she whispered reassuringly.

The doctor smirked, patted her knee as he nodded. “Good girl. Harry, you taught her well,” he assured. “Ice. Harry, I am to presume you’ll be her bedside nurse? Concussion protocol, wake her tonight, every couple hours, and pain meds. Call me if there’s an issue.”

Harry was still fuming. “Can y’drive her car t’my place?” He asked Niall. He nodded solemnly, afraid of angering him further. “Get these off me,” he held out his hands feeling frustrated that Niall didn’t move faster to get them off. He wanted to cradle her face and massage her achy muscles. He wanted to kiss her pain away and hold her until he felt she was better. She was only vaguely aware of his frustration. Louis was tending to her while Niall cut the tape off his wrists, nipping his skin with the scissors because Harry refused to sit still.

“Here you are, love,” Louis was gentle, cupped the side of her head as he sat in front of her and placed an ice pack on the back of her achy skull. She blinked unsurely, eyeing Louis suspiciously.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, tears filled her vision without her realization, and she heard Harry snort.

“Jesus Christ, Cupcake,” she could hear the way his eyes rolled. Niall snorted.

Louis chuckled, shook his head. “Not at all, babe, why?”

“He lost because of me.”

“He could lose a thousand times because of you,” he assured her. “Your safety is most important.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “He’s late because of me too.”

“He was late before you came along,” he promised. “Also, I like those Oreo brownies you make more than him,” he winked.

Harry smiled as she did. He could see her adding it to her mental list of goodies she would need to make.

“Harry, baby?” She whispered. Pulled him from his thoughts—fortunately so. He didn’t want to think about how much her head hurt.

“What, Cupcake?”

“I love you.” He smiled up at the ceiling, eyes still closed. Like it was new to him to hear her say it and it was just his dream telling him she loved him.

Right as he inhaled to say it back, his phone rang beside him. One eye peeled open and then the other as he looked at the number. “’Lo?” He asked, pressing the speaker button.

“Hey, Harry?” The voice at the other end asked. She didn’t recognize it.

“Speaking...”

“Is your girl okay?” He asked.

Harry looked at the phone curiously, he glanced at her and then back at the phone. “Yeah. She’s fine. Broke his nose.”

“Good girl,” his voice was quiet, but there was an air of pride in it as well. She blushed at the compliment, remaining silent while she listened in.

“Yeah... Listen... s’been a long night. Can y’tell me what y’want? Was it t’gloat?”

Her lips parted, realizing the man at the other end that earned the coveted one in Harry Styles’ loss column. Because of her. (Although she knew Harry would tell her it wasn’t her fault if she said that out loud.) “Right, sure. Sorry. Listen... M’glad she’s alright. Sorry it happened. But... anyone with a brain and two eyeballs knew that wasn’t a fair loss. Anyone would have stopped in the middle of our match. Hell, I almost stopped for her,” Harry waited for the point of saying all this. He squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips across her cheek. “So... I want a rematch.”

Harry straightened, his hand falling limp behind her back. “A rematch?”

It was quiet. “I want to win the right way.”

Harry smiled; excitement danced in his eyes. Gently, he squeezed her knee. “Y’mean lose the right way,” he taunted.

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “We’ll see, I guess. Yeah?”

Harry hung up. He turned to her, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. “What do y’say? Y’still want t’be m’good luck charm, Cupcake?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her neck. Like he belonged there.

“You still think I’m a good luck charm? After today? Hell, since the day I met you? I’ve been nothing but a headache. Clay is dented because of me. You had to teach me how to defend myself. I’m whiny and injured and—”

Harry didn’t seem to register anything she said at all. “M’the luckiest man alive t’have you, Cupcake. Will y’be m’good luck charm, still?”

She stopped listing her faults. It didn’t seem worth her time. “Of course, Harry,” she smiled.

“Y’think I can go the distance?” He asked.

Honestly, the thought of Harry getting punched for twelve full rounds still scared her. It was a lot for her to watch him do five or even three. “Maybe not all twelve,” she hedged with a giggle. “Want you in one piece at the end, baby,” she reminded him.

“Ye of little faith,” he frowned, grumbling. She giggled and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. His lips quirked into a shy grin, and he pressed his face back into the crook of her neck. “Well, one round?” He asked. She swore she heard the bell in his voice as he asked. The start of a new fight, a new set.

“No,” she shook her head, pressed her lips to his hair just next to his ear. The only space she could reach while he was tucked in her neck. “I’ll go the distance with you,” she assured him.

Maybe the concussion was playing tricks on her. But she swore she heard a bell as he smiled against her skin.

Ding.

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[babyshoesnerdshit]

night shift

CW cursing, child neglect, sexual harassment, misgendering, drunk person (although not very well written lol), general violence, slight infantilization

idk i wanted to try my hand at writing some shitty platonic yandere batfam x transmasc reader (its self indulgence bby)

Hunger pained (y/n)'s stomach. Stupid cheapskate convenience store didn't give employee discounts though so he had to wait until he got home to eat anything, if there was even anything to eat that wasn't spoiled. (y/n) would have just stolen something to eat from the store (he didn't give a shit about their profit) but the security camera mocking him in the corner kept him from it. And with his phone almost dead (y/n) had nothing to do but stair at the wall and listen to the shitty radio station the store played.

(y/n) hated the night shift, it almost guarantied he would have to deal with more crackheads and drunks than his coworkers. Regardless of his feelings about the night shift it paid the most (even though that was still barely minimum wage), and he really needed the money. Even though (y/n) still lived with his mother (and technically father but he was hardy ever around), his parents had stopped taking care of him a long time ago. So (y/n) was the one to take care of himself. Sometimes he had to take care of his mother too, reminding her to eat or sleep. The bells on the door jangled, shaking (y/n) from his train of thought. Ah yes, the other type of Gotham crazies. Vigilantes.

"Hey kid."

"I'm not a kid." for some reason the batclan had decided that the 5th avenue convenience store was the best place for mid-patrol snacks.

"Ah yes, the old and wise 18 year old. My bad." Red Hood had a thick layer of sarcasm in his mechanical voice. (y/n) couldn't see his face from behind his helmet but was entirely sure he had the stupidest smirk underneath. (y/n) simply rolled his eyes (fighting back a smile) as hood moved about the store grabbing a random assortment of food and drinks. As hood was filling his arms the bell sounded again, this time it was a middle-aged man. (y/n) could smell the alcohol on him from the register. The man looked around, stopping as he saw (y/n).

"Welll helllooo~" the man had started leaning on the counter of the register. "Yoou're a fine slut, i could show you a reeall goOod time~" He smelled even worse up close. (y/n) sent a panicked glance over to Red Hood who had dropped his things and was now walking aggressively towards the man. "Wha you ignorin me BITCH!" the man lifted his arm to strike. (y/n) flinched, lifting his arms to cover his face.

"Leave. Him. Alone." Hood's voice was dark and low. His grip on the man's arm was painful if the man's face was any indicator.

"H-hey Mr. Red Hood. me and the lil' lady were just havin a niice talk." The man had lost any confidences and aggression he once had in fount of the crime lord. "She wuz jus bein a bitch, you understaannd right?" he sniveled. A sickening crunch was heard from the mans arm where Red Hood's grip tightened. The man started convulsing with pain and screaming. (y/n) felt sick.

"I'm going to deal with this trash. I'll be right back." Hood dragged the man out of the store, bells jingling behind him. It was moments like this where (y/n) remembered just how dangerous Red Hood actually was. Living in Gotham, (y/n) had gotten unfortunately used to getting catcalled and harassed, but he could never stop the shaking of his hands and the sinking feeling in his stomach that came with it.

Moments later the bells sounded again, (y/n) couldn't help but jump slightly. It was Red Hood.

"Sorry about that kid." hood picked up the food he had dropped earlier and set it on the counter.

"Ah, it's ok." (y/n) hated how small he sounded. Taking a breath he started to scan the things hood had picked out and tried to steady himself. "It's Gotham, shit like that happens all the time."

"That doesn't make it ok." Hood sounded softer than before. (y/n) felt anger crawl up his throat, the bats always treated him like a kid. Even Robin! And he was, like, 12!

"That'll be $29.47, you want a bag?" (y/n) tried not to show his anger. As upset as he might have been, Hood did just save him from an icky situation.

"Nah." Hood picked up half of what he bought with one arm as he flipped a 50 onto the counter. "Keep the change." He started to leave.

"Hood, you're forgetting half your shit." He had left a large banana nut muffin, a pack of gummy sharks, a chocolate milk, and a packet of pizza flavored combos.

"They're for you kid, you look starving." He was out the door before (y/n) could protest.

(y/n) sighed with a light smile, well at least he wouldn't be hungry for the rest of his shift.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason was fucking livid. This god damn BASTARD! Who the fuck did he think he was, harassing his little brother. Raising his FILTHY had at him. Jason was seething.

"RR" Jason turned his comm on.

"Jonathan Davis, 54, 237 Maple Street, apartment 122, married to Eliza Davis, daughter is Maria Davis, place of work 57 West End Road." Tim already knew, he was watching it from the security camera back at the cave.

"I only spared him so that you could make his life something worse than death." Jason staired down at the beaten and bruised body of the man.

"Don't worry. It will be." Tim's voice was cold and calculated. No doubt already planning all the ways this man would watch his life fall apart.

Jason leaned down to the barely conscious man, "If you DARE go fucking near him again, I'll leave your head for your wife and daughter to find in your fridge." the man simply looked at him with fear. Jason grabs him by the scalp, "Do you understand?" his tone was dark, made even more intimidating by the mechanical modulator.

"Y-yes! I understand! I understand!" the man cried.

"Good." Jason shoved his head back into the filthy ground of the alleyway. 'right where trash belongs' Jason thought to himself.

[crazyoffher]

IMPULSE ADRIFT.

warnings: none.

-

Sometimes you wondered what was wrong with you, and on the downlow, Jenna did too. Although she never minded your physicality. In fact, the more you did it, the more she yearned for it whenever you were near.

You had an addiction, to say the least. Not to drugs, alcohol, or even sex, but to the skin and bones that belonged to none other than your girlfriend. More specifically, her hands.

Left the apartment? Your hand was linked with Jenna’s.

Out to eat with friends? Hands were still linked together, settled beneath the table and out of sight.

Lazy day, maybe watching television together or lying in bed? Nothing changes.

Even at the end of the night, when the two of you are cuddled up in bed, awaiting sleep to take you both, your back is to her front and her arms are wrapped around you. That was the same position the two of you found yourselves in every night you were together, because neither of you liked unnecessary change.

Jenna preferred holding you before quickly falling asleep, and you preferred being held by the one you loved most while trying your hardest to stay awake in her warm embrace. It was because, unbeknownst to her, you would wait until she was asleep to engage in a small act of love.

When you would hear the faint snores that she would produce once in dreamland, you would move her hand that sat on your waist to hold them. You’d press light kisses to each finger as a symbol of your love for her, even if she wasn’t conscious.

You were always the first to awaken, and a burst of energy would radiate within you. A form of energy that only existed when Jenna was around. If she was off filming in a different country, you’d just sulk in bed for over an hour after waking up, counting the days until she returned to you before ultimately getting up in a mood.

A part of the energy you’d feel every morning consisted of wiggling your way out of your girlfriend’s grip and pressing a light kiss to her forehead before making her favorite breakfast, turning into housewife mode, and serving it to her in bed. You would not even have to wake her up; she could smell the hints of her favorite breakfast dish, accompanied by small cups of water and orange juice, from the closed bedroom door and all the way down the hallway. 

She deserved more than you could ever give her, but you tried your best, and she loved that aspect of you.

“Good morning, my love,” is what you would say each morning when you walked into the room, food in hand, and watched Jenna rub her eyes. You’d set the food down on the nightstand next to her and crawl up to peck her forehead in the same spot you had when first awakening, followed by a kiss on the lips that Jenna would sleepily reciprocate.

She adored every routine the two of you had unintentionally set in place. It made her feel like your relationship was calm and organized, and it gave her a sense of relief she had once desperately searched for.

The periods the two of you had together were short, as movie role upon movie role stacked their way into Jenna’s calendar, but you made her forget about the upcoming stress she’d feel. You were there with her in the moment, and you were the only thing keeping her from breaking down due to the negativity of social media and her perfectionism, which was her mortal enemy at times.

You’d shamelessly cry whenever you said goodbye to her at the airport, because why feel shame over bidding farewell to the one you loved most for what felt like the thousandth time? Because of her continuous schedule, you’d sometimes not see her for months upon months, once going a whole year without seeing her because she had filmed two movies back-to-back. You’d always force yourself to remember the last action you’d give her—a kiss to the palm of her hand—and it gave you a sense of security knowing, despite the distance, you were still hers at the end of the day.

And just like you always did, you’d catch Jenna in your arms when she’d return from filming, feeling a growing wet patch imbed into your shoulder from her tears. You’d hold her tight at that moment, and you’d press a kiss to her palm once the two of you calmed down, in the same exact spot you had kissed her when she left you.

When you were together, you couldn’t go a day without kissing her, and you’d die if you went a whole day without even a brush of your fingers. Holding each other, whether hands or bodies, was a key part of your relationship, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

☟ ☟ ☟

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[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt. 3

Nightmare (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Since y'all seem to really like the demon butler concept, I made another one, also because I wanted to. This one isn't quite as long or plot heavy, but I thought this was cute and I was in the mood for hurt/comfort. I'm such a sucker for this trope. Content Warning: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence, panic attack Series Masterlist

Crimson blood. Fractured bones. Broken limbs. You lie on the ground, shivering, panting, crying. Your muscles betray you, unwilling to obey your command to move as you could do no more than stare. Your legs are limp, only dead weight as you try to crawl in what's a pool of your own blood, you presume. The sting of your aching fingertips sears through your mind, dragging yourself across the floor through sheer grip strength. You don't get very far with your pace, you're far too exhausted and injured to escape. Drowsiness overwhelms you and your eyes beg for rest. Everything blurs, you're only able to make out the color of the concrete floor and the scarlet that seeps from your body. 

A shadow approaches, looming over you as it nears, reaching out its hand. 

And you lurch forward, jolting awake. 

Heart palpitating and breath panting, you wake up to sweat-covered silks and a dark bedroom, alone. You clutch your chest as the closest attempt of grounding yourself, your nails digging into your skin as you struggle against the bed sheets. Finally, you're released from the silk confines, and anxiously flounder over to your nightstand, a shaky, desperate hand searching for the nearest light source: the nightstand lamp. You turn it on after another few moments of fumbling for the switch and then the room illuminates slightly, enough to allow you to find the handle of the knife beside the bed. Your eyes skitter back and forth across the length of your bedroom in search of anyone, and realize, with a shuddering relieved exhale, that no one was there.

Still, the hold on the handle doesn't loosen one bit. You sit up right in your bed, your panicked and alert mind anticipating for an intruder to come in, a monster to come out of the shadows. 

Then there's a knock. On the door. 

Everything inside you stiffens, your gaze hyper fixated on the door as you raise the blade in your hand to a ready position. Another series of knocks occur, and then the doorknob turns with an audible creak that echoes throughout the still room.  

Metal flies from your hand as you throw the knife with pinpoint accuracy at the newcomer, but the figure merely catches the blade in between two blackened fingers. You don't even manage to register the extraordinary feat that was just done, only the onslaught of terror that reigns over your thoughts, ridding all sense of rationality and awareness. 

They've come to hurt you, they've come to hurt you, they've come to h-

“My Lady?” a familiar voice sounds out, one that you found comfort in. You search for it, but she's not there. Where is she? Where is she? Where is she, she's not here, no one's here to save you, you were never saved-

“My Lady,” the same person calls out again. 

Where is she? Why can't you find her? The steps of heels click against the wooden floor and near you, and you know that they're coming. Yet, you can't find your resolve to do anything in your state of paralysis, and once again you're now in the cell where you were beaten, broken, and bloodied, and they've come to do the very same things to you once again and you can't even lift a finger to do anything, not even to scream. Your voice is gone and you have no way to escape as they round the bed, trapping you, encasing you. The silk covers feel like shackles, heavy despite the thinness, your limbs are entangled and they reach their hand out to hurt you once again-

“My Lady,” the sweet voice repeats, and this time it's closer, much closer. It's the third time she calls out to you and you only want to hide in the security she provides. “It's me. I'm here.”

The figure that stands by your side does nothing. It doesn't move, but you try to anticipate its next movements. Why aren't they hurting you again? Why haven't they done anything yet? 

“It’s Arlecchino. Say it.” 

That's right, the voice is Arlecchino. Summon her, summon her, only she can protect you, only she can keep you safe, you need her. You open your lips to speak and you're able to dislodge the obstruction in your throat as you whisper the softest of calls. 

“Arlecchino,” you rasp out, voice strained and hardly audible, but it's not enough. You extend out your hand, seeking hers. More choked and fragile pleas escape your lips. “Arlecchino. Arlecchino. Arlecchino, Arl-"

A hand, cold to the touch, and black as the abyss reaches out, clasping with your outstretched one, intertwining your fingers. Despite the chilling contact, it warms you and soothes your beating heart, each labored breath lessening. A physical reminder that she's here with you now. Your eyes traverse over the ebony skin, from the red fingertip nails, which trace your skin tenderly; to the palmar, with its distinct markings and lines; to the wrist, covered by the carmine ruffled ends of her sleeves; from her sleeves to the entirety of her, until you recognize the figure standing by your bedside is her, your demon. 

She's here, you recognize. 

It's ironic, how a demon is able to quell your fears, dissipating them as easily as she does with your enemies. This being of hell, this monster of terror, this inhumane being, surpassing capabilities far beyond human, consoles–how much blood has she spilled with this very hand that you hold? Are you that decrepit, deprived of human connection that you find quiet solace in this creature’s hold?

You're hardly surprised. 

Her touch lingers as your breathing finally evens out, slowing to that of its typical pace. During that time, she says nothing, only the steady flow of oxygen in and out of you filling the room, and it seems like hours before she breaks the silence. 

“Would you like some chamomile tea?” She asks, raising a hand to brush a strand aside from your face. You finally notice the cup of tea she's placed on the nightstand. With a shake of your head, you scooch forward in the bed, giving you ample space to finally lay back down, your hand still grasping onto hers when you turn on your side, back facing her. 

“Arlecchino.” You whisper out breathlessly, but somehow, she's still able to hear. 

“Yes, my Lady?” 

There's a brief pause, before you answer, “You'll do anything I say, right?” 

“As per our contract, yes.” 

Another moment of silence, this one longer than the last. “Turn off the lights.” 

She does. The room returns to darkness but you're not nearly as disturbed by this anymore. 

“Do demons sleep?” You inquire. 

“Though our bodies don't necessitate it, we can slumber.” 

Again, the state of wordlessness falls between the two of you. Arlecchino nearly pulls away, but your grip on her fingers tighten. 

“Stay.” Then you add quickly, “That's an order.”

Arlecchino’s low chuckle echoes throughout your bedroom. There's the shuffling of fabric, some movements made by the butler but her hand remains in place with yours. Shortly after, she raises the covers and slips underneath. Her cold front presses against your back and her breath brushes against your nape.

“Will you stay the whole night?” 

“I'll stay as long as you want me to, my Lady.” 

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you make it | Part 12

Check in and going through security were painless, it went by with only minimal sweating from Eddie as his bag went through the scanner, the all clear earning a breath of relief that’d almost raised a few brows. After that Eddie spent the majority of the wait time before boarding practically glued to the windows in the business-class lounge, eyes wide with wonder as he took in all of the planes coming and going from the runway in plain sight before him, Lynda sending Steve pointed little looks every now and then as if to say, “He’s very cute, isn’t he?”

Which Steve had no choice but to agree with, not just for the bit, but also because he was cute. He was very cute, like a kid outside of a candy store trying to inhale candy through the glass windowpanes. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed just how cute Eddie Munson could be sometimes.

Boarding was trickier. Eddie decided last minute that he was glued to his seat in the lounge. His parents going on ahead to get themselves settled, taking theirs and Steve’s carry on’s with them, Steve stuck behind to coax Eddie into moving. “Eddie you have to get up”

“Ooor I could just stay here, on the ground, where humans belong.” Steve was actually pretty surprised at how strong Eddie’s grip actually was because he couldn’t seem to pry it from the arms of the chair.

“Just think, someday, when you’re a big rockstar, you’ll be travelling in these all the time from place to place!”

“Nuh-uh, we’ll drive there, US only shows, we’ll have coaches.”

“You really wanna spend all that time in a bus with Gareth and Jeff? I mean Frank’s pretty solid but Gareth and Jeff? Pretty sure I remember them both having Cheeto dust on their fingers for a whole week solid one time and don’t even get me started on that time Gareth slurped up mountain dew from the lunch table.”

“That was a dare” Eddie was valiantly choosing not to turn into a puddle of ooey-gooey mess over the fact that Steve knew the names of his bandmates, they’d never believe him, no way did Steve Harrington know who they were. Nuh-uh.

“That was disgusting, is what it was. They don’t even wipe those tables.”

“I know, he got mono.” Sure as hell didn’t get it from makin out with anyone.

“Oh my god. Look, we have to go Eddie.” Hands on hips, typical mom stance.

“…Can you hold my hand like you promised?”

“Yes.” Steve offered his hand, which hesitantly, Eddie took, finally relinquishing his grip on the chair just enough for Steve to yoink him out of it, giving him just enough time to grab his guitar case before he was being pulled down the gangway and onto the plane.

Just like the kisses, all it took was a little coaxing, a gentle nudge to push those fears and anxieties away.

He was practically soup in his reclining window seat business class seat right up until the attendant came by to tell everyone to sit up straight and buckle up for take-off. He didn’t let go of Steve’s hand though. Their seats were next to each other, and that hand was glued to his. “Is it too late for me to run away?” Eddie asked, eyes on the window as the gangway was retracted, ignoring the captain’s announcement over speakers greeting them and thanking them for choosing the airline.

“Little bit, yeah.” Steve gave his hand a gentle squeeze as the plane began its slow crawl to the runway. “I’ve got you though, okay?”

“Okay.” There were no delays, there was no waiting, the plane made its way directly to the runway and rounded the corner to the long strip of tarmac that it’d take off from, engines thrumming, Eddie’s hand gripped his tighter, those big brown eyes wide on that window.

“Eddie”

“What?”

“Look at me.” Eddie, with great hesitance, turned away from the window and looked to Steve. The plane started moving. Steve, with his free hand, reached forward and took Eddie’s jaw, easing him in closer, those doe eyes flicking down as if expecting something more “focus on me, not on the window.”

“But—”

“On me, Bambi, eyes on me.” The plane sped up, faster and faster, machinery whirring, the sound of metal and gears moving filling the plane as the wings adjusted to climb, Eddie wanted to ask, wanted to check, just to make sure that the plane was supposed to be making those sounds, but he could barely breathe under Steve’s gaze, trapped in it, Bambi rattling around in his head because where had that come from? And then they were climbing. “You can look now, baby” he blinked, his head snapped round to the window to see clouds.

“Holy shit we’re—”

“We’re flying” Steve finished, giving his hand another squeeze.

“We’re flying, holy fuck!” There was that smile, toothy, dimpling his cheeks, Eddie’s free hand pressed against the window, face pressed up next to it as he tried to look up until the clouds cleared for him, revealing nothing but blue skies above and the cottony white of the cloud tops beneath.

He didn’t even notice the disgruntled looks or the mutters of stuck up rich people, didn’t notice the negativity he was receiving from the other business class flyers, all of which were promptly subdued by the scathing expressions of all three Harringtons combined. He didn’t even notice that he’d slipped his own hand free just to press that one against the glass too.

Steve caught his mother pressing a hand to her chest over her heart as she watched him, clearly deeply affected by his childlike wonder at something all three of them, likely everyone in that section, took for granted as if it were just driving a car, or riding a bike.

Nine more hours to go.

“Have you ever joined the mile high club?” It was as though Eddie timed the question, waiting until the perfect moment, the first gulp of a complementary glass of champagne that Eddie politely declined for himself as more of a shots shots shots!! Type of guy, it was as though he timed it precisely for the moment that Steve took his first sip.

It went down the wrong hole, Steve winding up choking in his seat on his first glass of champaign while Eddie grinned like a maniac, his legs pulled up criss-cross on the reclined seat while most of the eyes in the section turned to look upon them in judgement.

His parents just shook their heads and continued with their conversations, something about business, Eddie hadn’t been paying too much attention to them both since he’d gotten tired of watching clouds go by. Couldn’t even make shapes out of them that high up, it was just a blanket in most places, all the definition and shape on the underside.

He was waiting for a moment to be childish.

“W-what?” Steve asked through his coughs, Eddie took a little pity on him and gave his back a couple of firm smacks to help clear out the liquid.

He wasn’t done though. “Mile high club, y’know, sex in a plane? Your exploits in the boudoir, Sir Harrington are legendary, I simply must know if you’ve ever gotten down an dirty in one of those tiny bathrooms on these things.” Steve caught the look his mother sent him, the slow turn of her head, the dry raised brow, then his father leaning forward in his chair, his own brow raised in question, his father slightly more entertained than his mother.

“No!” Steve spluttered “No, I haven’t, I wouldn’t I—”

“Liar liar pants on fire, you would, you know you would, how could you lie to me on our first trip as a family, Steven I’m heartbrok—”

“Eddie oh my god, why?” What had he done to deserve this?

“Bored.” Such a simple answer, Steve had hired a demon. It was the only explanation, Eddie was sent to torture him by being mischievous and cute, should have been way more cautious about anything Dustin suggested. “An you totally have, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh, and what makes you so sure?”

“W—”

“Don’t answer that.” Steve very quickly thought against allowing him to answer when his question was followed by thee most devious grin Eddie Munson had ever displayed in public. “Just sleep like most people do on these things.”

“When have I ever been able to be defined by the words ‘like most people,’ Stevie? I laugh in the face of most people, most people tremble in fear at the very mention of my name~ muwahaha” It wasn’t actually fair how easily he could make Steve crack a smile. No matter how annoying he was being, how unusual, no matter whether he was clearly trying to annoy the other passengers now that he’d noticed their looks.

Steve couldn’t fight the traitorous smile that snuck upon his lips and why would he want to when Edde seemed to light up like Christmas when he got that magical smile? When his shenanigans were proven effective at getting Steve to smile like that? “Is that your actual name or your dungeons and dorks name?”

“Mostly the dungeons and dorks name, if I’m honest, I have a reputation, it’s pretty brutal. I killed Gare-bear within ten minutes of a campaign once he sat there fuming for the whole session.” It’d been a complete fluke, a bad run of rolls right out of the gate, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. So much so that Gareth threw the dice into a bonfire afterwards so they could never do harm again. Hilarious to everyone else though. “Have you though?” Eddie lowered his voice, leaning in just enough to appear quiet in his probing,

“Have I what?” Steve finally felt right enough to take another sip of his drink.

“Y’know…” Eddie pressed his forefinger and thumb together and stuck his other finger into the hole twice then pointed upwards with both hands, wordlessly, as if playing charades. “Wink wink, nudge nudge, airplane bathroom?” Charades ruined somehow still charming.

Steve was in trouble, but future Steve could deal with that trouble. Present day Steve had an adorable metalhead to fuck with.

“Bambi, if you’re looking to lose something today, how about we wait for a bedroom, m’kay? Way more spacious than the bathroom on one of these things, trust me.” Ended with a side-eyed wink and another cheeky sip of his wine while Eddie just sat there wide eyed, cheeks flushing with colour as those words sunk in.

“You HAVE!” Wrong words sunk in, dammit.

Part 14

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere! Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he meets a human! Innocent! reader and Yandere! Alastor... Where the two of them start fighting over the reader...

Yandere Alastor vs Lucifer and Human Reader

Ha ha ha, I live for the chaos that this would be.

---

“You mean, she’s alive? Not an official sinner?” Lucifer asked.

“Yep,” said Charlie, “Um… we’re not quite sure how she got down here, to be perfectly honest, but she definitely doesn’t fit the sinner criteria in looks or attitude.”

You hesitate before you give a small curtsy to the king of hell. You weren’t sure if the act was going to count against you when you actually died for real, but who knows, maybe he’d be as nice as Charlie was? Either way, Charlie was a good girl, and you wanted to help her out. Surely no one could blame you for being kind to someone, even if that someone is the King of Hell himself.

“Nice to meet you, your highness,” you say, voice timid.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a… living human,” Lucifer said, circling you, as if you were a rare exotic animal, “It’s been decades. Centuries even. And you don’t know how you got down here?”

“No, your highness,” you said, “I really don’t know what happened. I-I just ended up here somehow.”

“And no way to get back home either, I’m assuming?” he said, “How odd. Must find it terrifying down here, not to mention dangerous.”

Charlies chuckles a little, but you see a certain nervousness in her eyes. Your safety had been the talk of many stressful meetings.

“We do keep her as secure as we can,” she said, “Considering she’s so vulnerable down here she stays in the hotel pretty much all the time.”

“Ah, yes,” said Alastor, who seemed to be butting into every conversation poor Charlie was trying to hold with her father, “This little lady here, I assure you, she is under the strict protection of the hotel. The very best, as I tend to her safety personally.”

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders as he said it, pulling you closer to him. The touch startled you, as he wasn’t one for physical affection. In all honesty, you don’t recall him ever touching you in any way ever other than the brief handshake you had shared on meeting. You tense a little at the unexpected contact.

Lucifer’s eyes turn to Alastor and narrow. He looks at him like one would look at a spider crawling on the wall. A chill runs through you with the amount of malice in his eyes.

“… I’m sure you do,” he finally said.

His eyes return to you, a hint of curiosity in them, most of the malice gone.

“But! I’d be more than happy to assist in this matter,” he continued, “I’m not sure if there is anything we really can do as far as sending you back up to earth, but I can do my best to make sure you stay safe. Demons are fine and dandy, but there’s nothing like a royal seal of protection. You haven't made a deal, have you?”

As you shake your head, Alastor’s grip tightens, making your shoulder ache. You worry he’s going to claw through your blouse and into your skin if he’s not careful.

Saying you were uncomfortable would be the understatement of the year.

Lucifer Morningstar

Lucifer would have a clear upper hand in this situation, and oh, the nostalgia you would bring! He’s had plenty of experience getting innocent, naive human women to warm up to him, both in the romantic department and outside of it. While he is a bit out of practice, if he actually tried, I could see him using all of his experience, charm, and knowledge to seduce a shy girl out of her shell.

If you’re still a living human, he’s going to be quite protective of you. You want to leave the hotel? Have you gone straight mad? Honestly, if he had it his way, Charlie wouldn’t let you out of your bedroom with those nasty sinners crawling around the hotel. Do you want to end up as corrupt and filthy as the rest of hell? Perhaps he can talk to Charlie and convince her that you need to be taken somewhere more… secure.

Once he finally moves into the hotel, the real battle is going to begin. He'll be seeing you regularly and therefore make it impossible for him to push you out of his mind. And he has to put up with Alastor's antics now on a daily basis.

While he'd like to think he's levelheaded and mature, I can see arguments with Alastor quickly spinning out of control and getting very personal and very nasty fast. The only thing holding him back from just killing him after a certain point is the fact that Charlie likes him as much as she does.

Alastor

Part of me would wonder if he actually even likes you or if he just wants to mess with Lucifer tbh.

All jokes aside, Alastor would be pissed. He knows that Lucifer is more powerful in every sense of the word, and he can’t do a thing about it. Well, at least nothing that really matters. He’s simply going to have to be more charming than Lucifer is, to the point where you prefer him.

He’s going to pull out all the stops of being a suave southern gentleman. While Lucifer will try to wow you with bombastic displays that only he can provide, Alastor will offer himself as the sweet, traditional lover that has your back. He's a distinguished romantic compared to this circus leading clown. At least that's what he'll want you to think. When it comes down to it, Alastor has far less experience than Lucifer with women and romance.

Also I see him as being one of those people who’s like, “Since I know I can’t lift myself up more, I’m dragging this asshole down to my level.” Verbally throws barbs at Lucifer, both to piss him off and to try to make him look worse in your eyes. He’d have a real hayday if he can provoke Lucifer into saying or doing something that scares you.

Even when Lucifer’s not around though, he’s the type to plant ideas in your mind that the king of hell is simply not a good match for you. He’d use his verbal skills to make Lucifer look less attractive in your eyes or to make you feel like it would be unwise to get in a relationship with the literal Devil.

I’d like to think you’d turn them both down, but they’re both too polite towards women to be that forceful with you, so instead they just butt horns for what feels like eternity over who should have you. Clearly it’s the other guys fault that you don’t want him, not yours! Then when you finally die, you go to heaven, leaving them both quite upset about the whole situation.

But if things did get ugly and push came to shove, Lucifer would definitely win. At this point in the game, Alastor doesn't stand a chance. Hope you enjoy solitary confinement!

[justmeinatree]

Let Passion Get Too Much

Summary : niall x louis x reader threesome. that’s all it is.

TW : smut, threesome, anal, double penetration

Word Count : 3.2k

the timing could not have been worse. and why the fuck do connecting doors to hotel rooms not come automatically locked ? neither niall or yourself ever even thought of checking. assuming, for obvious security purposes, that the door would absolutely be locked.

maybe it was the fact that you knew louis was staying on the other side, the fact that actual danger wasn’t present. 

but now, you wholeheartedly wished one of you had checked. because niall was laying on the bed, back sitting slightly up against the headboard, stark naked. and you were on your knees, next to him, hand rolling down niall’s rock hard length, spreading a bead of precum, also stark naked. 

with a bit of pressure on his cock, niall’s eyes closed, a breathy whine could be faintly heard from the back of his throat, making you literally dribble arousal onto the mattress beneath you. 

and that’s the moment louis comes waltzing in, “did i leave my smokes here ?” he asks, looking around the room, not having looked up at you yet.

both you and niall do nothing but stare at louis, frozen into position, your hand wrapped around the base of niall’s cock, one of niall’s hands gripped into your ass. 

but then louis looks up, takes in the scene in front of him, eyes wide, “fuckin hell, please dont cover up on my account,” he exclaims sarcastically.

“teach you to fuckin knock mate,” niall’s hand leaves your body, scrubbing over his face, groaning, “could you please hurry up. we’re kind of busy, yeah”

louis shakes his head, keeping his eyes down, looking around the seating area of the hotel room, where you’d all spent the evening passing joints around, and catching up.

“can’t fuckin find them,” louis mutters to himself, loud enough to make niall groan again, “c’mon louis.”

but you look over at niall, and christ, he knows that look all too well. you want something. something that surely isn’t going to necessarily be in his favour, judging by the size of puppy eyes you were flashing.

and then it dawns on him. a conversation you’d had a long time ago. about wanting to have a threesome. you wanted to try it, finally felt comfortable enough with a partner to know that you’d be totally safe. and with that in mind, other than niall, louis’ the next person in line, in terms of comfort.

“you can’t be fuckin serious,” niall blurts out, eyes locked on yours. “s’him you want ?”

because you’d never explicitly mentioned a name, just said that you’d know it when the time was right. and honestly, what could be more right time than this ?

“hey, you said you wouldn’t judge,” you pout at him, puppy eyes getting bigger, as you look down at him.

“christ, m’not judging, just- c’mon, it’s louis,” niall groans, scrubbing his face again. this was not how niall imagined his night going. he never imagined you’d pick louis of all people. although the more he thinks about it, the more it seems fairly comfortable for everyone. 

but louis’ ears perk up at the mention of his name, looking over again, keeping his eyes up by your faces now that he knows he has to. “sorry, sorry, fuck, they’re not here. i’ll leave, sorry again.”

“louis, wait,” niall calls out, making your eyes go wide, figuring this means that he’s agreed.

louis turns around, looking over at niall, “what is it ?”

niall takes a deep breath, looking over louis with a bit of a chuckle, “christ- “ he cuts himself off, looking at you again, “sure about this ?”

you quickly nod, looking over at louis, “join us ?” you ask lightly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. because to you it was. by now, you’d become really close friends with louis. you were incredibly comfortable with him, there was no shame or awkward discomfort for you in this conversation.

“you- what ?” louis laughs, “are you serious ?”

“please, louis,” you look over at him, biting your lip, crawling off the bed, leaving niall to sit up straighter against the headboard, watching the interaction between you two.

louis’ eyes roam the expanse of your exposed self as you approach him, he was only human afterall, but your body is quickly shielded from his gaze, as you step right up to him, body pressed against his.

his eyes flick over to niall, as his hands instinctively went to your hips, checking in with him, only to find niall nodding back at him, giving him the okay, “s’her you should be checking with.”

as louis’ eyes land on yours again, he finds you smiling back at him, “s’okay to touch. i want you to. will you please join us ?” at the flash of hesitation in his eyes, you add softly, “no shame, louis. if you don’t want to, just say, we’ll never mention it again.”

you watch as his gaze flick between you and niall, two of his best mates, whom are dating and have been for quite some time. but he doesn’t want to say no. he’s curious. 

“what are the rules then ?” louis asks softly, smirking down at you, a wide smile taking over your features, as you make your way back to the bed, pulling him behind you.

you crawl back up onto the mattress, your hand colliding with louis’ chest as he attempts to follow you, his eyebrows furrowing. “gotta strip first,” you smile at him, wanting him naked.

louis chuckles, stripping his clothes off quickly, not wanting to think this through too much, going on feeling, joining you and niall on the bed, looking at you both expectantly, “anything i shouldn’t do then ?”

you look over at niall, having a silent conversation with your eyes, niall shaking his head, “for tonight, nothing’s off limits. we just go with the flow. if anything’s ever not feeling good, we speak up.”

at that, you nod, looking over at louis, who’s nodding as well, his fingertips gliding down your backbone, following the dip in your back, rounding out over your bum.

niall reaches for your hand, pulling you close again, to lock his lips with yours, his cock still incredibly hard.

you groan, getting momentarily lost in the kiss, swinging your leg over his, straddling his thighs, as your hands tangle into his hair.

louis comes up behind you, both hands gripping into the swell of your ass, spreading you apart, his hardening length gliding between your cheeks, biting his lip as he watches.

“think you’ll be able to take us both, love ?” louis asks, watching the head of his dick catch on your puckered hole. watching your body clench every single time.

you whimper against niall’s lips, pulling away momentarily to answer louis, “fuck yes, please. want you both. wanna be so full.”

“such a good girl hmm ?” louis murmurs, pulling his member away from you, in favour of watching his thumb roll around your hole, pressing gently, massaging your tight ring of muscles. “just want to please, dont you ?”

“she’s the fuckin best,” niall hums, biting on your lip, his fingertips tickling over your tummy on their way to grope your breasts, thumbing over your pert nipples. “can’t wait to show off what she can do.”

your hips roll down against niall’s cock, listening to them talk about you as if you weren’t right there, a glimmer of pride from your boyfriend, an intense turn on you seemingly didn’t even realize you had.

“getting a bit needy aren’t ya petal ?” niall groans, having been so hard for what feels like forever now. he watches you nod, your cunt dripping down onto niall’s length steadily, as he passes a bottle of lube over to louis. “she’s done this plenty. shouldn’t take too too much.”

you instantly feel the heat rising up your neck to your cheeks, embarrassment evident in your features now that louis knows you’ve enjoyed anal a bit more than you’ve ever cared to admit.

but niall knows you well, catching the look etched on your face, fingers darting out to smooth over your cheek, as you feel the dribble of cool lube leaving the bottle and hitting your hole.

you flinch slightly, feeling yourself clench, hiding your face in niall’s neck, feeling his hands run up and down your back in comfort, hearing him coo against your hair, “dont need to be embarrassed, pet.”

louis’ eyes flick up at the mention of embarrassment, just as the tip of his middle finger breaches your hole, a breathy moan now fogging up niall’s neck, “s’just me lovie,” louis hums, the tightness around his finger not going unnoticed. “fuckin love that you wanna take us both. love that you’re ready for it.”

louis works his way up to 3 fingers, twisting them around inside you, petting your inner walls, learning what it is that makes you moan loudest. so far, he’s absolutely obsessed with all your pretty sounds, loves that he’s the one able to elicit them from you too.

“think you’re ready, beautiful,” louis coos, his fingers slipping out of you, both hands now gripped into your bum again, watching the gape he’s created. “who’s going first ?”

“ni, please,” you whimper, blinking at niall, watching him nod, needing to feel some sort of relief, your cunt absolutely weeping for it.

“help me, petal,” niall hums, not having the best angle as you’re straddled onto him. without a second though, you reach down, sitting yourself onto his hard length, a loud relief filled moan echoing through the room, from both you and niall.

you work your hips over him a few times, head tipping back onto louis’ shoulder, biting your lip as you breathe in his musky scent. it was so different from niall, yet incredibly comforting as well.

louis’ face dips down to kiss along your shoulder and into your neck, leaving tentative licks as he does, getting a taste at your sweet self for the first time. he couldn’t deny ever having thoughts about you, he always thought you were gorgeous. but he’s met you as niall’s girlfriend, and learned to push the thoughts aside because of it.

but this moment, now that he’s gotten the okay, and he’s slowly pushing into you, his mind goes completely blank.

with your head still leaned on louis’ shoulder, your body starts lightly trembling, breathing getting shallow as you’ve never felt so incredibly full in your life, “fuck, fuck,” you whimper breathily, bottom lip quivering.

louis’ arms were wrapped around your body, holding you up against him, niall’s fingers digging into your hips, as louis’ cock slowly starts thrusting in and out of you, niall staying completely seethed inside you, feeling the drag and pull of his mate’s cock.

“christ, fuckin hell,” niall groans loudly, “can feel you. fuck, can feel you moving,” he whimpers, the overwhelming tightness of it all not only affecting you, but also both men. “gotta fuckin feel this, lou,” niall moans, hands darting out instinctively to grip into louis’ hips, stilling his movements inside you.

as niall starts to roll his hips, you moan louder, if at all possible, a shiver running through your entire body, the head of his cock grinding into your sweet spot deliciously hard, tucked into you with so much less space than usual. 

louis moans as well, one hand reaching out for niall’s arm, the glide of his friend’s cock adding to the intense pleasure, “christ mate, fuck. weren’t kidding eh ?” 

niall shakes his head, all three of you working through breathy pants, niall’s cock thrusting slowly, the overwhelming pressure, overwhelming sensitivity, overwhelming pleasure taking over all of your bodies.

it all starts to unravel for you when you feel louis’ hand gliding down your body, stilling over your stomach, and pressing down, making him feel the head of niall’s cock bumping into you with each thrust. “s’he filling you up good ? fuck, can you feel him in your tummy ? being so good for us, sweet girl. so fucking good.”

as he catches you nod, whining and biting your lip, your brain a little too lost to properly answer him, his hand keeps gliding down, fingertips flicking over your clit, you now really start to lose it. 

your head peels itself from louis’ shoulder, forehead resting on niall’s, your hands gripped tightly into his hair as some sort of anchor. your body starts steadily shaking, gasping for air, your body clenching with every passing flick of louis’ fingers on your sensitive button.

a loud guttural moan rips through you as your body seizes, intense pleasure coursing through your bloodstream, both louis and niall’s lengths pressed up deep inside you, feeling you clenched up tightly on them.

unable to hold himself back, with the tight vice grip you have on his cock, niall’s head drops to your chest, groaning, as he cums, spurts of hot white coating your inner walls, his grip tightened on louis’ hips.

“fuck, are you cumming too ?” louis groans breathily, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him.

“christ, how are you not ?” niall moans, another tremor wracking through his body, as your head falls back onto louis’ shoulder, panting for air, bottom lip trembling as silent tears falls from your eyes, wetting louis’ neck. “so fuckin tight, fuck, fuck,” niall adds, working to catch his breath.

he can hear louis chuckle, feel him slowly pull out and thrust back into you, niall whining loudly as he feels the drag against his overly sensitive prick, reaching back without thinking, fingernails dug into louis’ ass to keep him in place, “don’t you fucking dare.”

“sorry mate, sorry,” louis giggles, resting his head against yours, his hand gently petting your tummy, “feeling alright love ?” as you nod, taking a shuddering breath, making louis coo quietly, “s’a lot yeah ? feeling a bit overwhelmed ?”

“yeah,” you whisper, not trusting your voice entirely, as niall gains some composure, looking up at you, kissing the underside of your chin, “lemme pull out, petal.”

his hands glide from louis’ bum, back onto your hips, holding you steady as he pulls out of you, a large dribble of cum following suit.

you feel your body buckle, muscles going limp, louis being the only thing truly holding you up, as niall pecks a series of kisses over your chest.

“want me to pull out as well ?” you hear louis ask, immediately shaking your head, no. 

“want you to cum inside me too,” you murmur, no more embarrassment present, completely lax with the moment. 

“can i move then ?” he asks quietly, feeling you nod, as he hooks his finger under your chin, turning your face towards his, lips crashing onto yours in your first kiss, beginning to work his cock inside you again.

you whine, a bit sensitive, a quick shiver running down your spine, feeling niall drop down on the bed, shimmying himself further between your legs, his tongue taking a tentative lick at your folds, collecting some of his cum.

you moan louder against louis’ lips, one hand reaching down into niall’s hair on instinct, body relaxing further into louis’, your muscles rendered completely useless. 

louis’ eyes flick down, catching a glimpse at the dark brown tousle of hair between your legs, groaning, “you fuckin tasting yourself ?”

you can feel niall moan, nodding against you, the languid strokes of his tongue collecting each drip of his cum.

“always knew you were fuckin dirty,” louis chuckles breathily, feeling your body start to clamp down again, obviously overly sensitive. “s’ni making you feel good, love ?”

you nod, moaning out a series of yeses, your other hand, the one not in niall’s hair, reaching above you to bring louis’ face back up to yours, kissing him deeply, tongue quickly slipped into his mouth.

“s’louis making you feel good ?” niall asks, breath fanning over your abused cunt, his thumb coming up to swipe repeatedly from your entrance to your clit as he settles further, playfully taking one of louis’ balls in his mouth, pulling away with a pop.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck. everything’s so good,” you groan loudly, gasping for air, completely lost in the feeling of them.

louis groans louder as well, one hand leaving your body to grip into niall’s hair alongside yours, nails scratching at his scalp.

niall shudders, his cock starting to gain interest again, his hand working over himself as he licks his way back up to your clit. his other hand slides behind you, gripping into louis’ ass again, making his hips move faster, harder, working you up more.

“fuckin christ, so fuckin good,” louis groans, head tucked into your neck, arms wrapping around you tighter, thighs starting to shake.

as niall slips his tongue inside you, flicking it over your sensitive walls, louis shudders harder, teeth digging into the skin of your shoulder, whining loudly, “can feel your tongue. fuck, dont stop ni.”

so niall doesn’t stop, his tongue keeps flicking inside you, catching on the underside of louis’ cock through your walls. your body starts convulsing, louis sucking over the bite mark he’s left on you, thrusts growing more and more erratic, the more he feels. feels niall’s tongue. feels you squeezing down on him.

“gonna cum again pet ?” niall hums, mouth still pressed to your sopping cunt, his entire face stuffed against you, struggling to breathe, and not caring one bit, too caught up in the overwhelmingness of it all.

“mhmm, fuck,” you groan out loudly, another orgasm ripping through you, a string of curses coming from behind you, as louis finally lets go, filling you up to the brim.

as you start to come down, louis pulls out of you, niall giving your cunt one last kiss, shimmying his way out from under you, helping you lay down next to him, louis following suit.

“remind me to lose my smokes more often,” louis jokes, a breathy laugh escaping his lips, one hand up in his hair, working at regulating his breathing.

“only one thing left to do,” niall hums, leaning on his elbow to be propped up, looking over you at louis. “after all that, think i deserve a little smooch,” he smirks playfully.

“fuckin hell,” louis laughs, shaking his head, leaning up as well to press his lips to niall’s, both of them laughing through it all.

you hum, laying under them, smirking up at the scene before you, “definitely making a note to steal your smokes sometime.”

Part 2

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[that-tmr-girl]

Safe Word Series {Part 2}

Descriptions of vaginal sex, safe word, fluff

This girl drives me absolutely crazy, and I don't need to meet another to know that nobody will ever be as special as her. I love her. I love her warm. smile. I love her bright eyes. I love her gentle voice. I love her soft laugh. I love her caring heart. I love all of her.

I also love holding her waist. I love having her under me. I love leaving marks on her skin. I love the way she tastes. I love the feeling of being inside of her.

I try to always pay attention to her. I try to notice every sound that she makes. I try to notice all of her faces. Because she deserves that. She deserves to be loved in every way possible.

That's how I knew something was wrong before she even said it. She wasn't making a sound I had heard before.

The very second I stopped thrusting into her she told me to stop. Already doing so, I carefully pulled out of her, making sure my grip on her waist was light as I did.

"Are you okay, love?"I asked, rubbing circles on her skin. With a small nod, she just kept her eyes shut as she waited for her breathing to go back to normal.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you,"I assured her, cupping her face as I pressed a small kiss to her temple. Pulling away, I noticed the ghost of a smile across her lips at the gesture.

"I'm gonna dress you really quick. Is that okay?"I checked. Giving me another nod, her breathing seemed to already be going back to normal. That's a good sign.

Getting her a new pair of underwear, I moved the sheets off of her a little bit so I could be more careful putting them on. Pulling them up, I checked that they were secure. When they were I grabbed a loose shirt and slipped it over her head, still being slower than usual just in case.

When she seemed more comfortable I put on my boxers and crawled in bed beside her. Pulling the sheets over both of us, I made sure it was okay for me to actually cuddle her.

"Always,"She mumbled. Moving to her side, I wrapped my arms around her and rubbed circles on her shoulders. With her holding both my arms in her hands, she seemed so content laying here.

"I'm sorry, and I love you. I will always love you,"I whispered in her ear.

"It's okay, and I love you too, Newt. I love you too."