#different gear still speeding

[fantasticalleigh]

i already love watching videos of people rollerskating/blading wherever but something about videos of people skating around nyc with chill lofi music in the background hits so different i always go back to them

[misterbaritone]

If you think about; Drive Rush is basically Street Fighter’s version of Roman Cancel right?

[rowarn]

cw: gun play, throat fucking with a gun im sorry, simon coming untouched, masturbation (reader) I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY BRAIN SO unedited

simon with a gun kink that he's kept hidden would be crazy.

imagine ur big, beefy husband coming home after a long deployment. he's tense, his fists are clenched tight and it's clear he's got a ton of steam he needs to blow off.

at first, you expect a normal night together of him plowing you into the mattress so hard that the bed creaks and hits the wall with every thrust. the kind of fucking that leaves you trembling for 15 minutes after you've finished and cleaned up. the kind that has him pulling you into his arms to soothe and coo at.

but something is different this time.

he starts removing his gear one by one as usual but instead of removing the holster with his gun and safely placing it down, he unholsters the gun completely.

you're watching with bated breath as he unloads the weapon, carefully pulling it back and peering into the chamber. you're watching his hands move, admiring how strong his fingers are and how the veins in his hands bulge out with every movement

you deviously excited by the time he approaches you -- the gun still in his hand.

he brings it up, placing the nozzle against your chin, finger hovering off the the trigger. but you know how well-trained he is -- how good he is at his job. you know that he could have that finger on the trigger in a milisecond, faster than you would even be able to comprehend.

"open," he orders, a voice that sends shivers down your spine. it's firm, rough, authoritative. it's a tone you imagine he uses when he's on the field.

soliders bow to his every whim and you're no better. but unlike those who are trained to obey him because it's their job -- you obey him because you know if you do, you'll get the sweetest reward in the world; that thick, full cock still hidden in his pants.

your panties are already wet and sticky and your brain’s already feeling fuzzy by the time you open your mouth. 

the shock of cold is the first thing you recognize followed by the tang of metal as the weapon settles on your tongue. your lashes flutter as you look up at your husband, face still obscured by his balaclava but his pretty, brown eyes burn holes into you nevertheless.

he slowly and carefully slides the gun deeper into your mouth until it presses against the back of your throat and you involuntarily gag. a groan rips from his cheeks as he watches the tears gather on your lashline.

"that's it, pretty," he coos, "bet you wish that was my cock huh?" you nod your head as best you can with the weapon lodged in your throat, "maybe i'll give it to you if you put on a real nice show for me."

his words take a moment to register in your fuzzy brain but once they do, your hand is flying down between your legs at record speed. you slip it beneath the band of your panties, barely lifting his shirt that you're wearing out of the way so you can finally find relief in the ache that has settled in your cunt.

your folds are wet and sticky as they part around your fingers and you struggle to swallow around the gun in your mouth. there's no give to the metal and drool begins to dribble down your shin in long, thin strings.

simon's cock is hard, heavy and leaking against his thigh. this has been one of his best kept secrets, to watch you submit to his gun -- to the weapon he has used to murder countless people with.

and here you were, doing as you're told, throating his gun while you play with your pretty cunt. he can hear how wet you are, can see the way you desperately hump your own hand trying to get your fingers deeper and deeper. but they'll never feel as good as his, you both know this.

so all you can do is tearfully look up at him through clumped lashes as you choke and gag on the gun he continues to keep stuffed down your throat.

his cock throbs at the thought of being where his weapon is now. he envies it.

you mutter something, muffled and incomprehensible but he knows what you're saying. he can see the way your pupils blow out, hear the way your breathing grows erratic and choppy. you're trembling and breathless, messily jerking your hips into your own hand as you desperately look up at him -- begging for anything to push you over the edge.

his finger finally lands on the trigger of his gun and he sees your eyes widen but the desperate, teary look you give him only tells him more of what you need.

there's a muted, empty click when he pulls the trigger. the gun is empty, you both know this -- but it sends you over the edge anyway.

simons cock twitches and twitches, balls tight and heavy before he's spurting his load down his thigh at the sight of you cumming on your own fingers and moaning around his gun.

the hand holding the weapon trembles as he cums untouched at the entire scene. you pull your head back, gasping for air before pulling your hand out of your panties.

simon lurches forward, you don't even have time to react before he's taking the sticky, messy, cum-covered fingers into his mouth.

he's on top of you, pressing you down beneath his weight, the gun tossed and forgotten on the bed because now all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress. <3

[postmortemnivis]

nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.

that was until your worried voice called for him.

you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.

“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”

“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”

you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.

“who’re you looking for?”

you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”

“ghost?”

you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”

“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”

“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”

you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.

"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.

"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."

you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.

you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.

you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved on the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?

"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.

his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.

"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.

you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.

he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.

"love?" he called you.

still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.

"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.

"ghost?"

he shook his head. "simon, love."

"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.

he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.

you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.

this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.

he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.

[propertyofwicked]

speed demon - LN

warnings: speeding + dangerous driving, references to sex

short fluff :) fewtrell!reader -> can be read as a stand alone or an extra to the secrets series!

my take on a BTS of the quadrant athletes video with willne and bambinobecky :) p.s hey caitlin i know ur reading this

lando’s girlfriend was a concerning driver. growing up in the english country side, especially with her racing-mad brother max, she became very accustomed to driving at insane speeds down backroads, learning where the swerve potholes and where all the cameras were. honestly, put her in an f1 car with a good song and watch max verstappen crumble.

her brother and his friend could speed around race tracks, y/n preferred real roads.

the only flaw in her driving ability arose when lando, who notoriously hates being a passenger, sat to her left, gripping any hard surface he could as his girlfriend threw her car around a corner.

“y/n, angel, you know i love you - but why do you drive like you had somewhere to be 10 minutes ago?”

“this is a good song,” she answered with a shrug, which only confused him further, yet she slowed down, glancing at the man besides her, “it’s got a good bassline. you literally drive at like 200 miles an hour and yet you’re getting stressed about me going 80 on an empty road?”

“the difference between you and me is that i wear a helmet when i drive that fast.”

“no one is stopping you from putting a helmet on in my car, lan.”

“erm, i think the national speed sign meaning 60mph should be enough that i shouldn’t need to wear a helmet in your car y/n.”

“god you’re so dramatic, lando - has anyone ever told you that?”

“yes. you. the last time i complained about your driving, you little speed demon,” he said, finally laughing quietly at the situation.

in fact, they were late. they were supposed to be at a quadrant shoot in 10 minutes, but still needed to pick up will and becky from the station near to the warehouse they were filming in. when they finally reached the station, lando jumped out of the car to meet them, leaving y/n to sit in silence, queuing a few songs for the short journey to the shooting location.

“y’alright y/n?” will asked, climibing into the back seat of her car, becky climbing in from the other side.

“i’m good, thank you will. how are you?”

“im good, however i’ll let you know how i feel after ive experienced your driving,” he joked, earning a guilty chuckle from lando who was buckling himself back into the passenger seat. her hand rose, slapping his arm lightly.

“hey! my driving is not that bad.”

“let them find that out for themselves, angel,” he responded, dramatically rubbing his arm, feigning pain. she ignored him, shoving the car into gear before jamming her foot onto the accelerator, the loud engine loud enough to wake the dead.

when they did arrive at the shoot, will had gone silent, his face paler than usual. becky was still smiling and chatting, but her face conveyed the same level of fear as wills. the group of them walked into the warehouse, where max was already waiting.

y/n walked up to max, taking him in a small embrace before stepping back to let him greet the rest of the group.

“will? you good man? you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” max said, taking a step back to look at the man a second time.

“yeah, yeah, im good,” he responded, smiling sheepishly. y/n absentmindedly played with her car keys, the jingling of her key rings raising max’s attention.

“lando let you drive? jesus, no wonder will looks like he needs a fresh pair of trousers,” max laughed, doubling over.

“why does everyone think im such a bad driver? i have not crashed once. never. not a single crash. the same cannot be said for you or lando, max,” she exclaimed, beginning to feel offended at the accusations.

“in all fairness, lando warned me. i thought he was joking when he said she loved the accelerator more than she loves him,” will replied, the colour coming back to his face as he smiled. max shook his head at his sister again, before directing will and becky round to the sofas, running them through the plans for the day.

y/n felt a warm pair of arms snake around her body from behind, lando’s head coming to rest on her shoulder. he turned his head to look at her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“im not actually a bad driver, am i?” she mumbled to him.

“no angel, people are just jealous of your sheer ability to drive at dangerous speeds and do it safely,” he responded, he meant to be sincere but y/n could feel the sarcastic undertones.

she shook her head at him, pulling away from his embrace, but his hand reached out, latching onto hers, before pulling her back into him. this time her chest melted into his, her head tilting to glance up at him.

“i hate this scarf,” she announced, but stretched her neck up to presses soft kisses along his jaw.

“ouch. why? i like it.”

“’cos it covers your neck. i love your neck,” she said, smiling up at him again.

“i know you do angel. your love for my neck is the reason i have to wear a scarf for the shoot today,” he said, laughing, his hands moving from her back to push loose strands of her behind her ears. a blush rose up her cheeks at the memory of the night before, as her fingers moved to pull the scarf down slightly looking at the bruises beginning to darken on his skin.

she hadn't meant to, but she had found herself on top of him last night, legs straddling him as his pushed up into her. with max only a room over, she needed to find an outlet for the noises she wanted to make and his neck fell victim.

“whoopsies. but im sure the lando girlies would love to see you with hickies.”

“i’m sure they would,” he said, grinning at her still and nodding slightly, “im sure your brother would love it to,” he added sarcastically, glancing over to the man in question who was now handing becky a script.

she tutted in response, pulling his scarf back up to covering his neck. lando’s head tilted down to look at her again, using his hands on her jaw to pull her face up closer to his. his lips pressed soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks before finally planting a soft but quick peck to her lips.

“lando did you want to stop getting it on with my sister and come and do your job?” max bellowed from across the room, pulling the two apart.

lando decided he should probably drive the two of them home that day, and let max take the others back to the station, but the moment the car moved off from where it was parked, he stalled the engine.

"formula 1 driver but can't drive a manual without stalling it. that's embarrassing - now who can't drive?" she joked, laughing at him as he restarted the ignition.

"still you," he replied bluntly, his foot slamming down on the accelerator sending the car flying across the car park.

"please don't destroy my car," she begged quietly at the sound of her engine about to take off, "a man i quite like bought it for me and id hate to make him angry when he has to buy me new tyres."

"ill just buy you another car," he joked as he returned to the speed limit of the road ahead, his hand moving from the gear stick to rest on her thigh, grabbing lightly at it.

"you're not a bad driver, you know that, don't you angel?" he said after a few minutes of silence. he'd admit that she wasn't the best driver, but she was still skilled even if slightly reckless.

"i know," she said, her voice still heavy with the annoyance from everyone's teasing.

"you would be great at karting, you know?"

"stop it - i spent my entire childhood trying to avoid karting please do not bring it into my adulthood," she begged, albeit jokingly.

"why did you avoid it? im sure max would've loved to race with you," lando asked, glancing to his side to look at her face, her head leaning on the door panel.

"it was max's thing, i guess. i didn't want to do what he did. i wanted to be my own person. i still do," she said with a shrug. lando's hand moved from her thigh to grab hers, pulling it up to his face to press a kiss to the back of it.

"i'm glad you're unapologetically you. i don't think i could cope with two max's in my life. or two of you for that matter."

[astralis-ortus]

placebo effect

✱ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader

— maybe the actual remedy is his smile.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warnings → reader is sick :(, mild cussing, kissing, cute pet names (baby, love, princess) and generally very much in love it makes me sick >:( heh a.n → based on this request! kinda speeding through this (immediately worked on this after i posted the last fic), but i am in need of just pure fluff so here we are, a few hours later. heh♡ ⋆ see masterlist

being sick felt like shit.

growing up, you’ve always been the kid with perfect attendance. be it in school or throughout uni, you’ve always made the effort to attend every single one of your classes—and one of the reasons was all because you rarely ever got sick. maybe it’s because of your parents’ good genes, or likely due to how your mom made sure you always took your daily vitamins, but you’re always known as one the healthiest kids in the class.

that record, however, ended after you graduated a few years back.

you’d like to blame it the shift of environment—you know, given that you literally flew thousands of miles away to chase your lifelong dream, but considering you also moved states away from home for uni… that likely wasn’t the case.

“hey there, sleepyhead.”

a soft groan rolled off your lips when you felt your bed dip to your boyfriend’s weight, his fingers gently ran through your surely messy hair. your attempt to crack a peek at chris wasn’t quite a success, considering how even the slightest bleeding light from the gap behind your curtain was quick to trigger the soft throb in your head to return, fetching another set of low whimpers out of you.

“it’s okay, baby. i’m here. how’s your headache?” he hummed; pads of his fingers now gently pressed against the base of your head as he attempted to relief any pain that might still linger.

chris, your angel of a boyfriend, had been taking care of you since your condition started to decline the day prior. despite your stubbornness about still going to work (which didn’t end well, considering you were sent home by lunch anyway), chris didn’t even peep a word and readily picked you up from work, all geared up with your favorite porridge and cold medicine he picked up on the way.

“it’s fine as long as i don’t open my eyes,” you meekly answered, voice still noticeably very different from your usual cheery ones. “which reminds me, we do need a black out curtain, hun.”

his chuckle filled the rather quiet bedroom, involuntarily tugging the corner of your pale lips into a smile. “we’ll get them after you’re all better, baby,” he assured, hand that rested on the back of your neck now pressed against your forehead, “fever’s pretty much gone. think you could sit up for a bit? gotta fill your tummy with food before the meds, love.”

you know he’s right—you do need to eat, but with the way you’re currently feeling, protesting at any request to shift your body was the only available option.

“can i just eat later?” you pursed your lips, attempting to appeal your plea with a dash of cuteness you knew chris have a hard time standing his ground against. “maybe sleeping more will help…”

“nuh uh, no can do, princess,” chris gently tapped his finger on the tip of your nose, “you need the meds. the food too, but most importantly your meds. i don’t want your suffering to prolong just because you didn’t get your meds on time,” he reasoned, pads of his fingers now gently massaging the top of your head and in turn made you sigh in relief. chris always knew what to do whenever you complained about a headache, and you’re grateful for that.

“fiiine,” you exaggerated, reaching out your arms as a signal for chris to help you up. even with your eyes closed, you knew he had that proud grin etched on his lips when he gently pulled you to sit straight. you winced at the ache, but voiced no complaint as chris planted a light kiss on your scrunched forehead.

“a sec, okay? i’ll bring the radish soup for you,” chris left another kiss on the top of your head, grinning at how excitedly you reacted to the kind of food he had prepared before you heard his disappearing footsteps.

you forced a peek around the room, noticing the dim lighting as chris kept the curtains closed for your comfort. after a quick scan of your and chris’ bedroom, one you’ve been spending a little too much time in for the past couple of days, your line of sight then rested upon your locked phone. a single tap on the screen, and the action easily made your brows furrow.

“babe—”

“chris, it’s 10am on a thursday,” you pointed out as soon as you heard his voice from just beyond the slightly ajar door, “didn’t you say things has been hectic lately?”

“well, yeah,” he shrugged, careful footsteps finally returned to your side, followed by the dip on your bed, “but you’re sick. getting you back to health is a lot more important to me than anything else.”

“christopher,” you groaned, pursing your lips in protest, “i told you to not do things like this! you’re important, what you do is important. you can’t let me stop you from doing all that!”

“but i’m not letting you,” he replied nonchalantly, blowing on the spoonful of soup and rice before he feeds you. “it is my decision. i want to take care of you, and nothing is more important for me than you. as simple as that.”

“but—”

“no more discussion on that matter, baby,��� chris warned you, stern gaze immediately shutting off any complaints about to leave your tongue. “it’s on me. you’re my girlfriend, and to take care of you is what i need to do, because i love you and i want all the best for you. okay?”

maybe it’s the fever returning, but you could feel your cheeks warming up.

“…fine.”

with his lips blooming into a content smile, his hand returned to the steady flow of bowl-cooling off-feeding you. he’s happy, and it’s apparent through the way his gaze lingers on you every time you take another bite, slowly finishing the bowl of food in his hand.

maybe it’s your head fooling you with some kind of placebo effect, but you do feel better—simply by watching the tenderness in his face every time he looks at you.

“all done,” he cheerily announced after you took your last bite, gently wiping the corners of your lips with the pad of his thumb. “be back with the meds, okay? just a sec.”

his movements immediately ceased when he felt a tug on the t-shirt he’s wearing, eyes immediately returning to you in worry. “yes, love?”

you quietly looked at him, suddenly feeling a little shy—but why would you be?

“…you.”

“huh?” chris blinked, head involuntarily tilted to one side in confusion. “what was that, love?”

oh god.

“i really wanna kiss you,” you reiterated, lips slightly pursed in embarrassment, “but i don’t want you to catch the cold. but like—you’re just so adorable. why are you like this? i’m—"

any thoughts you had immediately vaporized as soon as you felt chris’ soft lips on yours—smile apparent against your lips. his warm hand gently cradled your cheek, and despite it being short, chris successfully left you feeling dazed.

“…wait,” you eventually blinked, face burning in embarrassment when you realized the cheeky grin he’s sporting just inches away from your face. “christopher! you’re gonna get sick!”

“well, what do you expect me to do?” chris shrugged as he walked backwards, away from you,

“my girlfriend said she wanted to kiss me—how could i say no to that?”

“gosh—christopher!”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[bunicate]

he’s worried that he won’t fit. a monolith of a man, inches stacked upon inches, with a body molded to be a weapon of war.

he’s too rigid, too sharp, too big, and scary to be told to sit still like a mindless toy, but he does so anyway.

könig listens to whatever you tell him to because he likes to hear that little excited mewl you sing when his thumb nudges that pudgy spot.

he’s overdressed, to say the least. his tactical gear is haphazardly strewn on his body. he was going to completely disrobe, but you insisted he keep it on whilst you climbed over him completely naked.

nothing but a soft little thing, bottom round and fat, bouncing and riding his thumb of all things. his hand rests over his crotch, large finger pointing outward only to be swallowed by your tight wet slit.

sure, it’s an unusual sight but also a pretty one. It's obscured a bit from the graceful sway of your pretty tits, but greedily he watches the every-so-often turn of your head to see the flesh of your own ass jiggle with every stroke of your hips.

his muscled body is barely tucked between your soft thighs as you draw your much-needed pleasure from his thumb— not his cock. even his tongue would suffice, to fuck apart your taut center with his mouth.

he’s definitely big enough to do it, but no, your fascination lies with his hands.

“so big kö. . . “

he wants to laugh, whether it’s out of exasperation or pure disbelief that his one finger could drag out such a reaction.

maybe he’s underestimated the size difference, maybe the little bunny hopping in his lap is much smaller than he thought. maybe he’s bigger than he thought.

“s’not even my cock, liebling. . .”

puffy lips enclose around the appendage, only seeming to fatten up from your aggressive rhythm. your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself as your hole gushes out little creamy spurts of your wetness.

“if my thumb is so big how can i expect you to take my cock, hm ?”

it’s light-hearted, but you can sense the not-so-hidden layer of his anxiety. you’ve seen him in all of his naked glory, how his cock is as big as the rest of him. how swollen it gets when you’ve teased him too much, and it swells against his abdomen with erratic thumps, but you’ve mastered re-assuring the sweet giant.

“im gonna do it . don’t worry . .”

you slightly speed up your little bounces, enjoying the way your clit grazes against his clad body.

könig’s rough hand rests on your ass, parting the fat cheek to watch the hungry convulse of your pussy.

“you’re so good to me, so I know you’re gonna take care of me, kö.”

that adorable sentiment makes him harder. his balls tighten in his pants, aroused simply by the thought of tending to his saccharine sweet girl.

keuche in meinem verdammten mund. sag mir, wie gut ich auf dich aufpasse. ‘pant in my fucking mouth. tell me how good I am at taking care of you’.

his cock aches, incredibly turned on by the thought of his precious girl having faith that he’d handle you with such trust.

he’d try.

he’ll kiss your messy holes, and rub your tender and sodden flesh with rough and scar-lined fingers. hands ghosted with the souls of stolen life, plunging into your wet cunt until it can stretch to finally take his cock.

“keep hopping f’me, hase.”

he spanks the widest part of your ass eliciting more of your drooly whines.

“daddy will get you nice and ready for his fat cock, ja?”

you’re losing the strength to keep yourself up, and the impact on the roundness of your butt propels you a bit forward. you let it happen.

you lean into him, kissing him messily on the mouth over his tattered mask breathing hot air, “ mhm. can’t wait anymore, baby. . .”

“ schiesse. excited for me to pound that little pussy ?” he chuckles. it’s a little pathetic, your flappy little clit wipes against the skin of his hand and that’s it to make you twitch violently.

he mutters a string of things in german.

you can’t make out what he’s saying exactly, but you know it’s filthy and gross. he’s sucking marks on your neck, groaning and rambling in your ear as you leak all over his lower half. his other hand cups you to help guide your bottom.

“ fuck. . . ah ah ah. koo . . m’gonna cum . .”

he’s far too worked up, thrilled even that any part of him will always be enough to satisfy you from his massive size.

he wiggles his finger deeper , poking and sliding between your walls until you seize around him.

god, it’s precious. you're pulling on him, whining and tossing in his embrace, begging him to hold you.

“ so perfect, schatz.”

so soft, so little when he untangles your limbs. so pretty when he lays you on the bed and tucks his pruned finger in your tiny mouth.

your cheeks suction and your lips pucker around his thumb, slowly dragging your head up and down just like he taught you.

“thaaat’s it maus. . . y’like big things in your mouth, hm ?”

he rubs his erection through the cotton twill. those doe eyes blink up at him in a daze as you lick your ruin from the hands all too familiar with terror.

“gutes kleines mädchen.” good little girl.

[theemporium]

can i request 💜 "You're the only one who gets to call me that, you know." with luke hughes please!!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

22. "You're the only one who gets to call me that, you know."

.

In a sport like hockey, you got used to being called a variety of different names for a variety of stupid reasons. 

Some made sense. Some had a funny backstory. Some were born from an embarrassing memory you could never escape. Some had no real correlation but it was used once and it stuck and now the whole team used it. It was just one of the dynamics of hockey that you got used to pretty early on. 

And the thing was that Luke didn’t hate his name. He didn’t, it would have broken his parents heart if he said as much. It just wasn’t exactly like he was ecstatic for people to throw ‘Luke Warren Hughes’ at him. Or at least, he didn’t like it when his middle name was brought into the locker room. 

Maybe it was PTSD from the teasing he got when he was in middle school. Maybe it was the fact it sounded a little like it belonged to a sixty year old man. Or maybe it was because he was so damn used to being known as ‘Luke Hughes’ or ‘the other Hughes’, that he sometimes forgot he had a middle name.

Whatever the reason was, Luke never liked it being used in the locker room by the boys. He didn’t really like the name being used, full stop. Unless it was one of his parents using it. He thought he managed to avoid it for years until he joined the New Jersey Devils and met the team—met you.

Because, for some fucking reason that was beyond his own understanding, every rule and belief Luke had went flying out the window when it came to you. 

Including the use of his middle name.

“God, Warren, couldn’t even use a comb this morning?” 

Luke felt his cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to find you wandering into the locker room. Most of the team were already out on the ice, but Luke was one of the stragglers that was still getting his gear on. It wasn’t his fault the team decided team pictures needed to be taken at an ungodly hour before practice. 

“Does it look that bad?” Luke questioned, trying to ignore the pleasant twist in his stomach when you flashed him a smile and made your way over to him.

“I think it looks cute,” you replied, lip tucked between your teeth as you reached out to gently run your fingers through his curls. “Curtis might give you some shit though.”

“Curtis always gives me shit,” he mumbled, letting his eyes flutter shut as your nails gently scraped along his scalp. 

“Hm, well tell him to come talk to me if he gives you a hard time for your curls,” you said, and even with his eyes closed, he could hear the smile in your voice. 

His cheeks burned as he tilted his head back to look at you, his own smile mirroring yours. “Gonna be my knight in shining armour?” 

“M’always gonna have your back, Warren,” you replied, your voice a little softer. A little more genuine. 

He swallowed. “You’re the only one who gets to call me that, you know.” 

Your smile widened. “Oh, I know. Jack told me you once got into a fight during a game back in middle school after some guy on the other team used it.”

He groaned a little at the memory. “Quinn and Jack gave me so much shit after that. They called me Warren for a week after that.” 

You snorted. “What did you do?”

“I told on them,” he admitted, a little sheepish. “They got grounded for a week.” 

You laughed and his smile widened at the sound.

“So how come you let me use it?” You asked, something else in your voice that Luke couldn’t quite name but it still made his heart speed up a little.

“I guess I like you more than them.” It was meant to come out light-hearted and teasing, but it felt far too heavy and suggestive once the words left his mouth.

“Enough to grab something to eat after practice?” You asked, so casual and calm like you couldn’t see the way Luke’s whole face was burning a pretty shade of red. 

“More than enough,” he said with a nod, unable to fight the grin off his face when you smiled back.

“Then better get your pretty ass out there before the boys make you do drills after practice for being late,” you teased, laughing as you watched him quickly shove on the rest of his gear before rushing out the door.

.

[fandomnerd9602]

All Too Well

Actress!Wanda x Stunt!Reader

Inspired by the film ‘The Fall Guy’

You couldn’t remember what drove you and your girlfriend, the famous actress Wanda Maximoff, apart. Maybe it was the different schedules. Maybe it was the nagging feeling that an actress of her caliber deserved better than a stunt person like yourself.

So you made the biggest mistake of your life and broke up with her. If you could take it all back you would.

It had been four months since you broke up. The stunt industry was hitting a slight lull due to a bigger focus on special effects and deepfakes. So you were shocked when Tony Stark, a good friend and famous director in his own right, called you saying that he needed a stunt person of your caliber to help out on his latest blockbuster.

“You’re gonna love it (Y/N)!” He exclaimed over the phone’s speaker, “it’s the biggest film of my career and I want you for a few stunts. Two weeks, Australia, it’s perfect.”

“Fine.” You huffed, “if it was anyone else, I’d say no but…”

“Yeah yeah never say no to a Stark” even thru the speaker you could tell he was smirking.

So you boarded the overnight flight to Australia. You ran over the stunts via Zoom with Clint and Natasha - the best stunt team in the world. The first big stunt was a motorcycle crash into the bed of a truck while the lead actress rode away on her own. You'd be playing the henchman chasing her that ends up in said truck bed.

You arrived on the set the following day and go your horror, you saw her from a distance. Your ex, Wanda Maximoff. Her back was to you but you knew it was her, her reddish brown locks. You’d know her anywhere. She was talking to some British dude, she seemed happy. It broke your heart, shattered it into a million pieces.

You quickly ducked into a trailer and came face to face with Tony.

“So how was your flight?” He smirked.

“You didn’t tell me Wanda was here!” You whispered-yelled at him.

“You wouldn’t have come if I did.” He shrugged, “listen you’re the best fall person in the business. This movie needs you. And even if she doesn’t know it, Wanda needs you too”

You let your brief anger subside, "so who's the guy? Wanda seems happy"

"That's Vision, her costar"

"Vision?"

"I don't know he's European or something like that" Tony passes you a cup of coffee, "for the jet lag. Your stunt's coming up, Fall Guy"

Tony gives you a wink and heads out of his trailer. You gave it some thought. Wanda did need you. This movie had to be a success. Wanda deserved all the success, all the happiness in the world. And if you can help in some small way, that's all that mattered.

You readied yourself, crash suit, helmet, crash pads, and your sense of danger and confidence. You put down the visor and made your way to the set.

You walked past and saw Vision gently talking to Wanda, "go get it, super star"

Superstar. That was your nickname for her. You boarded your motorcycle and she boarded hers. Tony took his place behind the camera.

"Camera rolling. Speed. Action!"

Wanda revved the motorcycle and took off. You took off after her. You kept the safe distance per the plan.

"And cue motorcycle crash!" Tony called out. Wanda fired her fake gun. BLAM! BLAM! The blanks went off.

You fumbled and crashed right into the crash cushions hidden in the truck bed. Your motorcycle went up and over, according to plan and landed with a crash.

"And cut!" Tony called out. You stumbled and fell onto the street.

Wanda ran up to you, "are you alright?" She didn't even know it was you and yet she still had the same care for a stunt person. You gave her a thumbs up. Wanda's eyes went wide.

"(Y/N)?!" Wanda asked in sheer shock.

You stumbled to your feet and yanked off your helmet. "h-hey Wanda"

"And that was perfect! We're moving on!" Tony called out. The crew grabbed their gear and moved out, leaving you and Wanda staring at one another.

"I can't believe you're here" she shook her head.

"Believe me I'm in the same boat" you shrugged, "you look great"

"its the costume"

"no it's you. You look great in everything. You look good in nothing" you stuttered out.

"Same old (Y/N)" she shook her head and walked away. You could feel her slipping from your grasp yet again.

"Wanda" you called out, "I'm sorry"

She stopped dead in her tracks, "what?"

"I-I'm sorry" you apologized, "you deserved better and it looks like you're on your way to that."

"t-thank you" she whispered out before walking off. Vision approached you with a smile.

"You're (Y/N) (L/N)!" the British actor said, "I hope this is alright but I am such a fan of your stuntwork. I've looked up your reels so many times. Wanda's told me she loved working with you"

"Working. Yeah." you gave him a smile before heading off set, "it was nice meetin' you Vision."

Tony walked by and handed you a set of car keys. "Your hotel's set up on the GPS. The GMC's yours to keep" Tony gives you a genuine smile.

It was dusk. Everyone was readying to head back to their respective lodgings. You found the GMC Tony spoke of. It was GMC Sierra 1500 AT4X, pretty expensive for a little token of Tony's appreciation.

You hopped in, and immediately all your hopes came crashing down. Why did you have to mess it up? Wanda was the best thing you've ever known and now she's got that British actor Vision. All proper and well mannered.

You turned on the truck and out of all the songs the radio could've played, it just had to play All Too Well (Taylor's Version).

'Cause there we are again on that little town street You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me Wind in my hair, I was there I remember it all too well

Your head just sunk a little. Your eyes went up and saw her walking with Vision and a couple other actors. She looked happy. How you wanted to be happy with her. Guess you'd have to be happy for her instead.

The memories just came flooding in. Every stolen moment. Every kiss. Every laugh that the two of you shared.

And maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up Running scared, I was there I remember it all too well

Tears just began running down your cheek. You lost her. And you'd never get her back.

Never again would you hold her in your arms. Share cuddle sessions in her trailer. The little brainstorming sessions that you had with her on how she could run a scene. The little stunt practices where she'd smash a prop bottle over your head. The little concern that she'd have only for you to give her your signature thumbs up.

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it-

Knock! Knock! Knock! A knock at the truck's window stirred you from your thoughts. You turned to find Wanda looking at you. Her brow was fraught with concern. Her eyes still showed the same adoration and care that she had for you on your first shared film.

You rolled down the window. "um...hey" you tried to say.

"were you listening to Taylor Swift and crying?" she asked you.

"It's just how I unwind after a day of stunts" you tried to cover your tracks.

"may I come in?" she asked. You didn't hesitate to unlock the passenger door. Wanda slipped around the truck and got in.

"You never told me why" Wanda whispered. "why did you break up with me?"

"Where do I even start?" you found yourself at a loss for words.

"Just one reason."

"You deserved better. I'm a stunt person, you were on your way to becoming the starlet you are today and I-i..."

"You were an idiot"

"I know."

"I could do without a lot of things. But losing you was the worst feeling I ever went through." Wanda admits.

"I'm sorry, super star" you look her dead in the eye, "I loved you too much. I thought I would hold you back."

"We were in it together" Wanda looks you in the eyes, there wasn't a hint of anger or malice, "I wanted to be your side."

"And I wanted to be by your side too...Vision seems nice. Does he treat you right?"

"What? I'm not dating Vision."

"Wait what?"

"You thought I'd move on that quickly?" Wanda begins to giggle. Her laugh always made your heart beat out of your chest.

"I-I...um...thought so?" you found yourself blushing.

"Maybe we just needed to learn to communicate better" Wanda takes your hand, "do you think maybe we could start over?"

You offered her a genuine smile and held out your other hand, "(Y/N) professional stunt person"

Your favorite actress giggles and shakes your hand, "Wanda Maximoff. Actress and huge fan of Taylor Swift"

The two of you share a little laugh, "I really missed you Wanda"

"I missed you too...Fall Guy"

She leaned in. So did you. The mere touch of her lips sent shocks thru your whole body. How you missed her touch. The two of you became lost in one another. And this time, you'd never let her go again.

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

Tony walked by, catching the sight of the GMC's windows beginning to fog up. He caught just the glimpse of you and Wanda kissing softly through the window.

"Mission accomplished" he laughed to himself as he walked to his own car.

THE END

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @iamnicodemus @iiconicsfan25 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @russianredassassin @revanshand @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @ab1nsur @aloneodi

[cl-01-kestis]

Blood and Honey - Tom Riddle x Female Reader | nsfw

Summary: Your rivalry with Tom Riddle was widely known around Hogwarts, there’s no one you hate more than him. But through the mist of rage and competition, Tom finds himself tempted by a very odd scenario.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, public sex, blood kink, injury description, fingering, cunnilingus, Tom has a borderline fetish for blood consumption, (both of you are 18)

(Part 2 taglist)

If there was one single person, only one, who you could hate the rest of your brief existence, it would be Tom Riddle.

Your reasoning was endless, every interaction was poison. He made no attempt of hiding the fact he hated you either, yet neither of you tried to resolve it.

For 6 years, Tom had been the one person who always got under your skin. He had a habit of teasing your skill, even though it was near the best in each class you sat. You scored 80% and above in each exam you sat, yet he still managed to pluck out the detailed faulty of your knowledge. He was always better than you, he always had to be better than you. He made sure of it.

Sometimes you thought he was better just to grind your gears, all that studying he put in was possibly to aggravate you. You knew it gave him the mightiest pleasure to see you suffer at his hands, he would have it no other way.

Potions class today was no different. You brewed one of the most advanced potions and handed in your thesis to your professor, minding your own business and going your own way. But your chest tightened and your hands turned into fists when you heard his voice nearby, laughing wickedly with his friends who stood by the corridors. You held your books close to your chest, avoiding any eye contact with the group of brash boys.

Tom spotted you but he didn’t say anything, instead he glared at you with a sharp smirk on his pale face. Your eyes found him, but you wish they didn’t. Your jaw clenched and your eyes narrowed, your pace unconsciously speeding up.

He watched you with a malicious glint in his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself as you looked away and rushed off, your cloak floating softly behind you. His friends words became a hazy murmur, his mind drifting from their conversation to thoughts of you and your pitiful demeanour. He found himself pondering your flushed face and pretty frown, knowing he caused it the majority of the time.

Tom shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to the library, hopeful to squeeze in some studying before dinner time. He wondered if you would be there, but his soft expression moulded into a scowl when he realised how intrusive his thoughts became about you. He licked his lips and entered the library, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

-

You sat silently in the medical ward, eyes full of tears and your hands shaking from pain. You were outside the school grounds for a while with the creatures of the school greenhouses, needing to clear your head, the next minute you were tripping over a flowerpot and cutting your thigh deeply with large gravel. The head healer spent an hour plucking bits of rock from your wound, giving you supplements of pain relief to get you through the process.

Now you sat in bed with your wound open, she claimed it needed to be aired so it healed quicker with the medicine she gave you. But you were still in pain and still somewhat bleeding.

You missed dinner, to your sadness, but the healers made sure to give you some snacks and chocolate frogs to appease the hunger you felt. But you missed the roast dinner and sweet pudding you received every night, your stomach craved it.

You laid back against the soft bed, keeping your injured leg bent so it didn’t rub against the sheets or your other leg. You held a charms book in your hands, shakily flipping the page as you continued reading in the quiet of the ward. You heard the distant footsteps of the head healer, her voice whispering to other students since other patients were sleeping. You tried to block out the noise and continued reading.

Until the door to the ward opened, and in walked none other than Tom Riddle. Immediately, you hid your face in your book and sneakily grabbed the cover a few feet away, tugging it towards you to hide yourself more. You weren’t in a mood to bang heads with him, or even interact with him. The fact he was even in the same room as you made you want to chuck your charms book at him.

He was visiting Avery, you heard him ask one of the healers where he was and she hastily lead him to his bed, which was right beside yours. You cursed Merlin, grateful for the cover blocking his vision from you. Especially because your skirt was hiked up and your tights were off, your bare skin showing. You sat up in your bed, careful not to make any noise possible as you pulled up the covers and laid them over your legs. You weren’t about to be humiliated by your bully, you might as well fling yourself off the astronomy tower.

You heard the both of them bicker, but none of their words registered in your head. Tom was irritated at something, you didn’t really care. Hearing him annoyed made you smirk behind your book, knowing you never heard it often. Tom was a secluded man, he never showed an ounce of anger or irritation towards you when you insulted and constantly one upped each other. He was stone cold, but sometimes he cracked.

You heard Tom scoff at something Avery had said, but you quickly zoned out and found yourself slipping into unconsciousness, too tired to care. One of the healers came over to your bedside and buffed the pillows for you, wishing you a goodnight and making sure you were comfortable before returning to her nightly duties. This caught Tom’s attention, soon he found himself peeking around the cover shielding you. His eyes widened and he missed what Avery had said, completely focused on your sleeping state and the charms book in your hands.

“Hey, did you even listen to what I just said?” Avery frowned, fussing over his broken finger which was healed without hassle over an hour ago. He was taking up the bed when he didn’t need to, and Tom was here to drag him out. But now Tom was dwindling on the thought of why you were here, if you were hurt or recovering from an injury. He found himself lingering on you with concern, but his attention begrudgingly turned back to Avery after he continued to whine.

“Abraxus is waiting for you in the common room, don’t make him wait any longer than necessary” Tom instructed with narrow eyes, similar to a snakes.

“Aren’t you coming?” Avery raised a brow, cradling his bandaged finger.

“No, I have other matters to attend to” Tom dismissed Avery, who nodded his head and made his way to the infirmary exit.

Tom waited for Avery to leave until turning his attention back to you. You were still sleeping, the covers hiked up to your waist as you slept. Tom pulled up a chair and sat down at the corner of your bed, taking the charms book from your hands to inspect it curiously. This caused you to shuffle and peek one eye open, dread filling your heart as you realised who sat at the end of your bed.

“Hey, give that back!” You sat up, trying to snatch the book back from toms hands, but the Slytherin smirked and leaned back in his seat.

“Not until you tell me why you’re here. Let me guess, you were clumsy as always and had an accident?” He cackled, a shit eating grin on his charming face as he put his arm up while still holding your book. You were unable to reach it now.

You sat back in your bed, crossing your arms and scowling at him as he placed the book back down into his lap and opened the pages.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Tom, and for the record I am not clumsy” You frowned deeply, moving your foot to kick him square in the knee, causing another laugh to escape his pale lips.

“You obviously are, you always have been” He shot back. “I bet you broke your leg, or maybe you sprained your ankle?” He continued to toy with you until your face was red with embarrassment.

“I cut my leg okay? Just leave me alone” You looked away, suddenly finding the bedside table very interesting. Toms grin didn’t disappear, but he was curious about how your leg looked.

“That’s it? Just a small cut?”

“It’s not small, the nurse spent an hour taking out rocks and little bits of gravel from my leg” You sit up, peeking under the covers and noticing you bled on the sheets. Cursing, you lifted up the covers a tiny bit, revealing the top of your thighs to Tom who quickly fell silent and looked down at your charms book. He didn’t like you, but he wasn’t a pervert. He wanted to at least respect your privacy.

You brought your legs out from the bed, grabbing bandages from the side of your bed and unravelling them to wrap around your leg. Tom watched quietly, noticing the trickle of blood trailing down your shin after you placed your feet on the ground.

“You’re bleeding” He stated.

“Yeah I can see that, idiot” You sneered, wiping the blood with your hands instinctively and cursing as you smeared the blood further. Tom rolled his eyes and stood up, dragging his seat with him as he quickly summoned a pack of towels with his wand. You fell silent as he sat in front of you, sighing loudly as he placed the towels down on the dresser and looked down at your bleeding leg.

His eyes widened almost immediately, a pang of shock flooding his system as he watched the crimson liquid seep from your deep wound. He didn’t expect it to be this bad, the blood was all over your hands and smeared over your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess” He grumbled, grabbing the towels and grabbing your ankle so he could set it on his leg. You shoved him off and glared at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice was wary, not matching the angry glare seeping into his skin. You sounded confused, not hostile.

“I’m trying to help you” He snapped back.

“But why? I didn’t ask for your help-“

“Just shut up and give me your leg” Tom raised his voice, his eyes flickering up to yours as a warning. Your jaw snapped shut, bottom lip poking out just a bit further as you gave in and raised your leg. Tom muttered a ‘stupid girl’ and pressed the towel to your leg. You looked away and screwed your eyes shut, hissing at the stinging pain as he delicately dabbed the towel onto your wound.

“Stay still, you’re moving too much” He muttered in frustration, his grip on your ankle intensifying as he turned the towel around to catch more blood. You looked down at your hands, just as you were about to wipe them on your skirt he stopped you.

“Are you stupid? Here, let me” He grabbed your hands, his touch oddly soft yet commanding. Toms hand pressed against yours, the blood transferring onto his skin and causing his fingers to get sticky. His motions slowed, his eyes stuck on your clasped hands as the blood seeped through the cracks of his fingerprint. His eyes darkened, his throat suddenly dry and his stomach tense.

Your blood was on his hands, he realised. You started to get anxious at his silence and stillness, ready to ask what was wrong. But the boy simply stared and turned your hand over, his thumb caressing your palm. Tom gulped, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he let go of your hand and inspected his own bloodied one. Your blood started to dry on his skin, the smell of iron filling his senses. His mouth watered.

“Is everything okay?” You asked worriedly, leaning forward to your knees were touching. Tom nodded his head, his hands starting to tremble as he looked away from the blood and into your eyes. He swallowed again, his hand creeping back to hold your one as his eyes trailed to your lips. The feeling of blood between your palms was a strange sensation, you felt like you needed to wash your hands, but Toms skin felt like a dream against your own.

“Are you about to kiss me?” You whisper with a heavy breath, your heart beating erratically fast.

“If that’s what you want?” His voice sounded so soft, so vulnerable all of a sudden as his bloody hand cupped your cheek, his thumb skimming the skin of your cheek.

Without hesitation, you nodded, and Tom gently pulled you close and pressed his lips against yours. They were softer than you imagined, because admittedly, you thought of kissing him before. All that pent up frustration made you think of him differently overtime, no matter how much you hated him. You can’t deny you’ve pictured yourself in this situation many times.

Tom was so delicate with you as his other hand pressed against your unharmed leg, pulling you onto his lap as he leaned back into his chair. You straddled his waist, your lips departing momentarily as your breaths mingled together, right before he pulled you back in and kissed you fiercely. He cradled your body against his, bringing one of your hands up to his face before pulling away.

Tom took one of your bloody fingers into his mouth, licking the crimson substance off your skin which shot a shrill of excitement up your spine. Toms mouth was so hot and inviting, his tongue eager. You couldn’t help but whimper quietly as he bit one of your fingers, jutting his hips up into yours as you cupped his face with your free hand, getting blood on his jaw.

You kissed once again, his tongue entering your mouth, carrying the strong taste of iron. You tasted your blood before realising you were being pushed back onto the bed. Tom looked down at your thigh which was still wet with fresh blood and his eyes glistened with excitement, he crouched down so he was face to face with your uplifted skirt and revealed panties, but he didn’t look to them at the moment.

Toms tongue caught the stains of blood from your wound and lapped it up like a man deprived from water. Your hand flew to his hair, gripping it as you gasped at his surprising ministrations. Tom didn’t go near your wound in fear of infecting it, but he didn’t shy off the blood surrounding it.

“Oh Merlin… Tom, please” You cry silently, arching your back. Tom glanced up to your panties, noticing the obvious wet patch which grew bigger as time went on. He smirked against your skin, raising his arms and hooking his fingers underneath each hem of your panties.

The both of you were aware you were in a public area, so Tom quickly grabbed another cover from the ward beside you and shielded the both of you from anyone who might’ve come in at the wrong time. You sighed out in relief before Tom was back on you, his attention now on your skirt and underwear. He resumed removing your small garments that, really, left nothing to the imagination.

“Do you want me to continue?” He looked up at you with a soft gaze, noticing the nervous hints of your expression. You nodded your head eagerly, raising your hips so he could pull off your panties easier. Tom smiled and kissed you passionately as he put your underwear in his pocket, his hands slipping under your skirt and gripping your bare hips. You tried your best to keep quiet underneath him, but he was making it near impossible.

“How much do you need me?” Tom asked, trailing his lips down your neck and whispering against your pulse. You closed your eyes, using his shoulders as support as he grazed your tummy with his slender fingers.

“More than I can admit” You flush, leaning your head back to give him further access to your neck. Tom smirked against your skin and unzipped your skirt, pulling it off in one quick motion.

“You’re too full of pride to admit how much you crave me, I know you’ve thought about it, you’ve been anticipating this moment” He laid between your legs, his elbows stopping his body from fully leaning on you.

“I’ve been wanting this too, in class I’ve found myself picturing you bent over a desk, screaming my name” His hand found your exposed pussy, causing you to let out a choked moan. You felt like your skin was on fire, feeling too hot underneath your shirt and tie.

“Touch me, please” You gasp, Tom quickly covered your mouth with his free hand and leaned back so he sat back on his knees, positioning you so your head was against the pillow.

“We can’t be too loud now, darling, you need to stay quiet for me, okay?” He soothed your whines, kissing your forehead before focusing his attention below. His eyes shadowed over with desire, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

His thumb pressed against your clit, massaging small circles against it which caused your legs to tense up. You closed your eyes and struggled against his hand, holding onto his wrist as he brought his other hand up and lathered it with spit. He inserted his finger inside you slowly, careful not to hurt you or make you uncomfortable as he leaned down and kissed your neck. You used your free hands to undo your tie and unbutton your shirt, exposing your bra to Tom’s greedy eyes. He made a pathway of bites and kisses down to your breasts, all whilst thrusting his finger inside of you. You watched as a loose curl dropped in front of his eyes, making a fairly disheveled appearance. He watched as he inserted a second finger, enamoured with the way you stretched.

You tilted your hips up and hummed against his palm, throwing your head back slightly when he started to curl those two fingers. You grabbed the wrist once more, your grip tight but not enough to distract Tom from his goal. He directed his fingers towards that special spongy place inside you, causing you to nearly curl up into a ball if it weren’t for him keeping your legs apart.

“You’re soaking for me, fuck” He cursed lowly, picking up his speed which made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You trembled against the mattress, cunt squeezing around his skilled fingers as he kept punching your g-spot.

You tapped his hand, signalling to take it off your mouth. Tom quickly removed his hand, pushing a few strands stuck to your sweaty skin away from your face. He noticed your puffy lips and glazed eyes, smiling fondly as he watched your expression contort with pleasure.

“Oh god” You whisper, reaching up to grab his shoulder.

“Say my name” He pleaded as quietly as he could, his thumb returning to your clit and circling it softly which caused another adoring reaction from you. Your grip tightened against the material of his prefect blazer, but Tom didn’t care about the crinkles you caused. He leaned down and pressed his body against yours, your mouth was just beside his ear.

“Tom- please… I need you so bad” You sobbed, voice muffled by his shoulder. Tom cradled your head as his fingers worked harder on your pussy, leading up to an almost life changing orgasm. You felt your body tense, goosebumps scattering quickly as you started to climb your high. Tom peppered kisses over your flushed cheeks and forehead, down to your jaw where he sucked a dark love bite, marking you as his.

“You gonna cum, darling? Do it, do it for me” Tom mumbled, his voice verging on a whine as he watched you unravel. You squeezed your eyes shut, body freezing completely as the feeling of sharp, hot white pleasure ripped through you. It was more than difficult trying to keep quiet, tears trailed down your temples as you suppressed a scream. Tom kept curling his fingers into you to help you ride out your orgasm, feeling a sense of pride as he watched you twist and turn with unbearable pleasure.

Your breaths were ragged, you sounded like you’d been through 10 rounds of Quidditch with no breaks. Your legs shook at either side of Riddle as he gently removed his fingers from you, coated with your slick honey. He placed his fingers in his mouth and hummed, his tongue licking up the goodness of your climax. You felt yourself become aroused once more just by watching him taste your cum, you needed him all over again.

But to both of your devastation, the infirmary doors opened and a couple of healers walked in with new patients, thankfully going to the opposite side of the ward and away from you and Tom. The Slytherin pressed a wet finger to his lips, smirking as he lifted up your skirt and bent down.

You held back the combination of a giggle and a moan as he went down for a full taste, his lips kissing your inner thighs and right above your clit.

The two of you heard the nurses converse about treatments and diagnostics, all whilst Tom slipped his tongue inside you and held both of your legs over his shoulders. You had to keep your eyes open, alert in case either of the nurses came and checked on you at the wrong time. But Tom was distracting you terribly, to the point you quivered and kept looking down at his mop of dark curly hair between your legs.

He was just as skilled with his tongue as he was with his fingers, which caused difficulty when it came to keeping silent. You threw your head back against the pillow, your fingers lacing with his hand and giving it a gentle tug as he devoured you. Tom groaned against you, hands on your hips and guiding you easier to his eager mouth.

You wanted to cry, everything felt so good. Too good. You couldn’t remember how you got here, but by Merlin you never wanted it to stop.

You already felt your second orgasm approaching, the muscles in your body tensing once more as another tear left your eye. Tom was relentless, cruel with the flicks of his tongue as he glanced up at you struggling to keep your composure.

The peak of your climax creeped up on you suddenly, making you grab the pillow underneath your head and use it as a muffler as you let out a pained groan, thankfully not loud enough for the nurses to hear. Tom suckled your clit as you fell off that beautiful drop in your stomach, hips stuttering against his jaw as he held them down and continued lapping at your arousal. You cried, eyes shut and teeth clamping on the pillow as you used every cell in your body not to scream.

Tom pulled back when he felt he was satisfied enough with your orgasm, using his fingers to catch the sticky substance near his mouth that he couldn’t quite reach with his tongue. You kept your face hidden under the pillow for a while, still too fucked from the wonderful feeling between your legs. Tom carefully slid himself away from your legs, planting soft kisses on each one before clambering off the bed and back into his own seat, right beside your head.

“Darling?” His voice was quiet, eyes glancing down at you with slight concern. He wondered if he went too far, if you couldn’t handle the torment he gave. But he saw your sly smile immediately after you removed the pillow from your red face, eyes glazed over with pure satisfaction as you looked up at him.

“You should’ve done this far before now” You chuckled softly, your hands still grasping the pillow tightly. Tom leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair off your face once more and finding himself enamoured by the sight in front of him.

For the first time, a moment of peace dispersed between you two. There was no bickering, no insults, no battling it out until the other proved them self to be better. There was blissful, adoring peace. Tom placed his hand over your one, noticing it was still shaking from earlier.

“How are you feeling? Do you need any water? Any sugar?” He asked, his eyes tracing the shape of your face whilst his thumb brushed the skin of your knuckles. Your smile grew wider, nodding your head as you gestured to the glass of water on your bedside table. Tom helped you sit up, buffing your pillows and handing the glass of water over to you. He pulled the covers over your bare legs, protecting whatever modesty you had left as he contained doting over your hair. You didn’t want to know how bad you looked right now, but you felt very spoiled with Tom’s attentive nature.

“I feel bad” You whispered.

“How come?” The Slytherin prefect asked curiously.

“You didn’t get to finish” You frown, looking at the obvious tent in his pants as he let out a brief scoff.

“Don’t think about it too much, you can repay me when you feel better” He winked, causing you to roll your eyes.

Tom made sure you looked presentable for the nurses before leaving, and it just so happened he timed it perfectly.

The head healer peeked through one of the covers shielding your privacy, asking if it was okay to come in after noticing Tom’s presence. The both of you nodded and Tom seemed to get the hint when she showed you a thick pack of bandages and more medicine.

“I think it’s best that you go back to your dorm, Mr Riddle, don’t want to be out past curfew now” The healer smiled fondly at the two of you, sensing something was going on but minding her business nonetheless.

“Of course, my apologies if I’ve outstayed my welcome” Tom stood up, but not before giving your knuckles a sweet kiss before making his way out. He bowed to the healer, then you. He wished the both of you a goodnight before vanishing into the shadows outside the covers. You immediately felt lonely without him, but the nurse seemed to dissipate your sudden separation anxiety. She sat down in the seat Tom did and asked for your leg.

“He’s a good boy that one, dear” The nurse grinned, sterilising your abrasion before wrapping it in bandages.

“Yeah… he certainly is” You chuckled.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

[metranart]

"Yeah, baby—" his voice was a mix of a snicker and a heady groan, such a sultry tone it made you feel drunk. "Ride my tongue, you, sweet annoying thing," he praised with eyes shut close in concentration and utter enjoyment, "let your hips stutter against my face, like a good girl. Fuck—"

ft. Katsuki Bakugo & Dabi x reader, both thirsty for your attention, both willing to do whatever it takes to have you just for themselves, a complete story with strong overtones of jealousy, sexual frustration and possessiveness.

Bakugou & Dabi X Reader (Shameless smut teaser)

You still remember the day you met Bakugou Katsuki, better known to the world as Dynamight. 

You had been deliberating for weeks about leaving the League of Villains, Shigaraki was losing his temper and every day there were more innocent civilians killed and less progress towards their mutual goal. It was no longer the same League you had joined so long ago, All for One had changed it, deformed it and now their goals and yours were different. Same reason why you asked help from Hawks, you and Dabi never believe his change of sides and in the end, you were right. He helped you leave the League. 

"You'll be okay, (Y/N)" Hawks promised as he flied you away from the secret lair of the League of villains, "we'll protect you, the information you've given us is vital to be able to stay one step ahead of them," the Winged Hero encouraged when he noticed hesitation still present in your eyes, "don't feel bad, I know it wasn't your intention to betray them... after all, they are your friends," he paused to gauge your expressions and soon added, "... you're doing them a favor by trying to stop them, their path only leads to self-destruction. You'll see, everything will be okay." 

Hawks swears to you. The need for you to stand firm in your decision, imperative for the success of his mission. Nevertheless, the blonde still didn't trust you one hundred percent but only time would tell which side you were on. If you were a spy, they would find out, just had to put you under the watchful eye of a competent enough Hero, and that was when you were assigned to him.

Bakugou Katsuki. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Already an experienced ProHero after graduating from UA Academy as the best of his class. A full-fledged adult on his way up the charts.

You were welcomed into his penthouse temporarily while another safe house was found for you, he would protect you... and keep a close eye on your every move.

At first it was difficult for both to live together, Bakugou was too open with his opinion about the League. "They are bumps who didn't have the courage to be anything more than villains." And your insistence on defending them always sparked a debate. "They are people rejected by society for being different... you wouldn't know it, since you fit perfectly into the gears of this rotten mechanism."

Bakugou barked his protests at you, even so, you never backed down, always standing firm before his imposing personality. You were a beautiful contradiction, the champagne-haired man had never met someone like you. You tempered and sailed his explosive temperament without fear or intimidation and that had him captivated, perplexed, highlymesmerized. Slowly, earning yourself a special place in his complicated heart, crawling under his skin despite his protests... every day, there was less screaming and more laughter, less fighting and more flirting. 

Bakugou Katsuki's bleeding heart had learned to race at dangerous speeds in your presence, and more so, when an accidental, playful romp led to this embarrassing situation: Him on top of you in the living room couch, pinning your petite form under his massive one.

Weeks ago, you’d been quarreling with him no end, and he’d appeared all the less happy to have you as a roommate, like an unwelcome guest. And now here he was, nested between your spread legs, sucking your clit into his mouth and nibbling on it like it was his favorite candy.

Your legs twitched as his mouth worked with expert dexterity and shot pleasure up your spine, arching your back off the couch just for your pussy to meet his face in a blunter smash. Even so, he kept pushing you down on him, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Katsuki Bakugou was greedy, greedier than you ever anticipated. Even greedier than him.

His tongue licked a particularly skillful heart-shaped form over your clit and your thoughts abandoned the memory of that crispy skin and cerulean eyes that insisted on chasing you. Your hands shot down to grab him by his sweaty neck just to end up, scrunching into his hair to pull him hard. 

"Yeah, baby—" his voice was a mix of a snicker and a heady groan, such a sultry tone it made you feel drunk. "Ride my tongue, you sweet annoying, thing," he praised with eyes shut close in concentration and utter enjoyment, "let your hips stutter against my face. Fuck— I love it so damn much!" 

Bakugou licked and sucked with insatiable hunger. You didn’t even realize you kept smashing your throbbing cunt into his mouth until a hot trail of spit ran down your thighs, down the curve of your ass.

"I, myself, love a messy pus-"

"-Bakugou." Your complaint cut him midsentence, but his playful spank on the side of your ass, startled you. 

"What the fuck did I just say, (Y/N)?" he growled into your folds, your pussy twitching in tandem. A moan forcing its way from your throat to become a timid and embarrassed purr.

"I-I mean, Katsuki." He had cornered you to use his first name, after all, he was going to have his mouth on your pussy.

He hummed pleased, and in appreciation, put his whole mouth on you and making a seal with his lips, sucked hard. Your hips twitched and you whimpered, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

He gripped your hips a little harder, brought you closer, fingers massaging teasingly into your soft flesh. His tongue flicked wildly against you. The wet, lapping sound ridiculously and unfairly lewd.

He made a pleased, humming growl against you, and the vibrations made you shiver, made your eyes flutter closed. 

His mouth sucked in a hurried, excited breath, and then went back down, sloppy and hot and wet and so ready to make you cum. You were awfully close, painfully ready to burst when suddenly he stopped his movements all together like the expert tease that he was.

A slick-stained smirk peeked up at you from between your trembling thighs and his dripping chin, glazed in your juices, got cleaned up on your discarded panties.  

“I know, I know.” He sing sang pretending to be apologetic. “Is just that I want us to cum together the first time.” Bakugou chuckled quietly, adoring the way you couldn’t catch your breath, “I’m a romantic like that.”

He was an irremediable asshole, an incompressible tease, the worst kind of human being… and you were loving each little fiber of him, Damn it! He was so infuriating, effectively domesticating you in every possible way. 

“You ass,” eventually were able to mutter in a broken, ragged gasp, just managing to make him snicker even louder. Those deep crimson eyes drinking attentively every heave, pant and groan you had in you.

Your eyes fluttering open as you felt him fit himself between your tense thighs again, the thick length of his warm cock a huge distraction as it squeezed its massive girth against your sensitive, recently licked, folds. 

“You are the worst, Katsuki,” you meowled aggravated, "using me as a glorified cocksleeve-"

His strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to swallow your complains and grumbles with a savory kiss, allowing only the moaning pleasure to flood the living room, the feel of him through the thick fabric of his jeans, somehow more erotic than having him fully naked. 

“I’m going to take care of that pouty mouth of yours,” he warned you between gluttonous kisses, teeth grazing the corner of your mouth  before, in all suddenness, lifted you off the couch as if you weighted nothing and started to squeezed himself behind you, until his back was flush against the backrest and your body cuddled in front of him, close to be hanging from the edge of the sofa, if it wasn't for his arm holding you tight against him, strapping you safe to his muscular body.

"Just like that..." he muttered in a quiet grunt, more to himself, "...relax for me, pretty. Let me take care of everything."

“Bak-...Katsuki,” you breathed, correcting yourself before you could call him by his surname again.

He stared down at you from the rim of your shoulder, crimson-red eyes near reverent, and the entire new position crawled chills up your spine.

“Are you comfortable?” the Prohero asked you in a sultry purr and you nodded, dreamily. 

Strangely, you were more than comfortable, you felt immensely safe inside his covetous hug, two strong arms claiming you to its owner. The position carving each pectoral and abdominal muscle of Bakugou's body on your back. He kicked down his jeans until pooled at his ankles and then slowly shove your skirt further up until bunched around your waist and pushed your panties down your calves, letting them hang from one ankle, precariously. 

"Good, I need you to be comfortable," he stated in an odd, perverted pride, “…I’m quite big.” 

You squinted your eyes at him, playful doubt shining on your orbs, and he chuckled. “You’ll see.”

-

After countless encounters with Bakugou's possessive nature, he had tagged you as his and now, you felt worse than even since you had led him right into a trap... but that wasn't your intention. Apparently, Shigaraki had learned to read you better than you remembered and what was supposed to be a surprise attack turned into a full-blown fight.

"—Where's (Y/N), Deku?" Bakugou yelled at the green-haired Hero when he couldn't find you anywhere.

"She was behind me just now," Deku said but soon realized his mistake. "Dammit!"

ProHeroes and League members were fighting in every corner of the place, it was a real mess but even more disastrous was the fact that you were now cornered by the person you least wanted to see.

“Oi.” 

Dabi greeted you, blue flames dancing across his slender fingers like a vivid threat, an amused smirk gracing his lips almost offensively. 

“Was it seven months?” those lips pursed, mischievously, at how uncomfortable he was making you. “I must admit, I was almost hoping to see you, all round and heavy, with my child in that cute belly.” You squirmed visibly at the thought, “after all, we used to fuck like rabbits,” he took one step towards you and you took one step away, “so full of disappointments—my little, beautiful traitor."

Shallow breaths contaminated your peace and in a foolish hope you tried to run but he was expecting it, and in an unfortunate turn, you found yourself draped by two strong, scarred arms. Hot breath fanning your ear. 

“My memory never does you justice,” his voice shared in a hiss and grunted, jaw tensing, and with practiced composure put the fire down in his fingers. You noticed it.

"I thought you wanted to crisp me to death." Dabi entertained your little outburst with sadistic patience. Circling a loop of blue flames between his fingers to keep you on your toes. "—Don't tell me you actually miss me." You scoffed openly and the flame-user extended a glowing palm for it to blaze in front of your face. 

“You can’t just keep burning everyone you don’t like—” 

He happily ignored you. The hot glare of his palm smoldered into the bursting blue of his flames as they lit up his fingers, menacingly. 

“Says who?” Cerulean eyes spared a glance down at you, with a droll look on his face that put the hair in your arm on end. "Dynamight?"

Your tensed frame hooked the corner of his lips farther up. "Fond of your new boy toy? such a shame," he muttered, looking down on you with a cheeky smirk, "I’m gonna break him."

Those shinning, crazed eyes suddenly took a side-long inspection of your reaction, then hardened ever so slightly to see the poorly hidden condemnation on your face.“Don't fucking tell me ya love him.” He demanded quietly, heavily sarcastic to hide his interested disdain and your silence only made his flames fan harder with a hint of unrequested but very real, jealousy. 

“Him or me?" Dabi asked oddly calm, "You ought to solve this... before I do.....”

*READ THE COMPLETE 8000 WORD COMISSION IN MY PATREON. (Includes heavy/possessive/mouthwatering smut and NSFW art from scenes of the fic. Plus, lot of MHA NSFW content in general)

[bagofshinyrocks]

Snow Angels... Kinda

Prompt: Simon is sent outside to shovel the snow from the driveway, and the little one joins him. Whether or not he's of help to his dad is another matter entirely. [Requested by @ertepla]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: expletives

Simon was usually the monument of speed and efficiency. Grocery store runs were completed in less than ten minutes, didn’t even need to call you for clarification. Could get dressed in all his winter attire in about 2 minutes, starting in pajamas and ending in what you called a tactical marshmallow. And the snow in the driveway stood no chance once he whipped out the shovel.

Except when it came to your son.

He had to set a timer when it was time for the boy’s baths, otherwise he and the one-and-a-half-year-old would spend an hour splashing and dunking toys.

Making dinner was still speedy, but if your son was strapped to his chest, both of them would get distracted. The boy would try to stick his hands in everything, and Simon would let him.

“He’ll be pissed off if I don’t let him eat plain flour, and he’ll be pissed off if I do let him. In one of these cases, he’ll learn that he doesn’t like plain flour.”

The little shit kept eating plain flour.

And even if Simon did everything wrong when distracted by your baby (not that he ever did, the perfect bastard), you’d never wish it any different. The gentle side of him was one of your favorite parts of him, and your son had never seen any other.

The pediatrician noted that your baby knew a good many more words than the average kid his age, and you (to Simon’s embarrassment) chalked it up to how much Simon spoke to him.

You heard the rustling of Simon’s winter gear, and immediately your son perked up. 

“Dada?” he shouted.

More rustling and Simon looked in the doorway.

“Wassit, munchkin?”

You watched as the boy scrambled towards him, giggling.

“Do you want to help Dada with the snow?” you cooed, beaming.

Simon scooped him up and plastered his face in kisses. “Aw, little man’s always so helpful.” He glanced at the clock on the bookshelf. “But it’s almost his bedtime, innit? Alright if he comes with me?”

“Please. Tire him out so he’ll go to sleep.”

Simon chuckled and gave the boy a little toss in the air. “Let’s get you all bundled up, yeah?”

Simon took his time to bundle the boy up, with a sweater, a waterproof snowsuit, boots, a hat, a scarf, and mittens. The boy could barely walk in shoes, and you imagined there would be a lot of snow piles with a baby-shaped belly flop.

Simon would get two or three shovelfuls worth of snow into a pile, and then pause to see what the baby was doing. Putting snow in his mouth, and then spitting it out and whining at the temperature. Climbing up or sitting down in the piles. Trying to take the shovel from his dad.

Your husband sat the boy on the blade of the shovel and skidded him along the driveway. You could hear both of them laughing from inside.

Simon was about halfway through when your son tried walking again. Leaning onto furniture worked, but leaning into piles of unpacked snow was not helpful. With a squawk, he fell sideways into a pile.

Your husband turned at the squawk and belly laughed at the scene. Two kicking legs and nothing else.

He walked over and grabbed one of the flailing limbs. The boy’s snowy face came into view as Simon lifted him out of the pile with one hand, dusting him off a bit with the other. 

Normally, a baby would cry. But his dad was laughing and asking his son cheerfully about what he was doing. And so the boy laughed and squealed and clapped his mittened hands.

“Simon Riley,” you hollered from the kitchen window.

He turned with a grin and gave the boy a little swing.

“Don’t you dare drop my damn baby.”

Simon pretended to do so, lowering the boy, and then pulling him back up. Then lowering him, then pulling him back up. Both of them laughed and laughed, and you pretended to gasp each time.

An hour later, the boy was fast asleep in his crib.

“Aw, he snores just like you,” teased Simon.

You swatted him. “Piss off. Good thing it’s not like yours, or the whole neighborhood would hate us.” 

The two of you left the nursery and went to your own bedroom, where two heating pads lay in your respective spots.

You crawled into bed with a quiet sigh, and Simon did so with a loud series of groans and grumbles. You kicked his thigh. 

“You’ve been a dad for a year and a half and you already sound like one.”

“Hell you talkin’ about?”

You imitated the noises he made earlier right in his face, and he covered your face with a pillow.

“My fuckin’ back hurts.”

“The baby’s that heavy that you hurt your back?”

“What? Nah, he’s easy to carry. Could throw him 50 meters. No, the snow is heavy.” He sighed and settled on his back, letting you curl up around him. “And I’m an old man, now, lovie.”

You hummed and closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his chest through his shirt and the steady beat of his heart. Then his chest jerked up and down rapidly with a chuckle, and you opened an eye in faux annoyance.

“Sorry, lovie, just remembering how he ate shit in the driveway.”

You both snickered at the Loony Tunes-type scene from earlier.

“The driveway is clear, but all the ground around it has his belly-flops and face-plants.”

“They’re snow angels, honey.”

A fresh bout of laughter at the comparison.

Posted: 2023 Dec 11

[ohmygraves]

biker!ghost thoughts, because why not

biker!ghost is the typical biker guy you see on tiktok, he can be seen tinkering with his motorcycle when he's free. minus the posting videos online. naturally, as his partner, you like to read and frequent booktok, as tiktok intended.

the way you met him was such a cliché coincidence too, because you two met at a bookstore. he wanted to find a book for a gift, but he saw you struggling to get a book at the tallest section of the shelf. it still grinds your gears how perfectly set up it sounded, even if it was just a coincidence, or so you thought (he admitted his "colleagues" told him to go find a partner in a bookstore for a change of pace).

ever since you started dating him, simon was hoping that soon enough you'll want to ride with him, even purchasing a nice sturdy helmet for you. it took a few dates and soon enough you became his "backpack", clinging to him as he drives you to places. he would never admit the fact that sometimes he purposely speed up or braked just to feel you press up against his back. it's dangerous, but you know that he won't let you get hurt.

you, on the other hand, prefer to sit down at home and read some books, so it was quite a big difference with simon. you both compromise and he takes you out to a park or a cafe so you can read outside. he insisted you need the sunlight.

simon's bike is tall, so he tries his best to help you up and down his bike when you're having trouble. this man would carry you and place you at the backseat, tap your hand when you put your arms around his waist and tell you to hold tight. he likes feeling you behind him, clinging to him.

[satoruhour]

racer jjk are so good 😩 i wonder if u can make a part two where is explain how the boys (gojo, geto, nanami, toji) and the reader first met. THANK YOUUU

a/n: thx baby glad u liked them 😉 here you go! also mb if this is lacklustre guys 🧍‍♀i didn’t wanna write smut bc it’d be too similar ig. fun little post! pls still support me 🥹 (nanami’s is a bit suggestive!) / pt.1 here

✶ GOJO

you actually meet his ass when he almost crashes into u and while making a difficult drift turn before swerving at the sight of you. plus  surprise … you’re the police chief’s daughter. gojo at this point is still using a jacked up camaro, so it’s a wonder he’s able to still speed so well away from officers. but it’s not like he was running away from any crime, he just so happened to stumble across an interrogation of a fellow classmate initiated by the police chief’s son (your younger, cop worshipper brother). it was hardly an interrogation tho, more of a bully circle. gojos an cocky man but hes not entirely closed off from things happening around him. when theres people being wrongfully treated he steps in, but he’s pushing the limit a little running away from your brother and his police chief dad. especially when he’s got ties with the racing scene lol. bro doesnt exactly care tho, cause he knew the modifications he made to his engine he’s sure to get away lmaoooo.

there’s a rush of adrenaline that matches the exact moments when the first gear change happens and his foot presses down hard on the break, feeling the familiar sensation of the steering wheel under his fingers as he turns it to the right. nothing like a successful run of a difficult drift route, even more so with an annoying fucking kid chasing him. he was miles behind too, and gojo has to laugh out to himself in the driver’s seat before he yelps out at the shadow on the street.

“damn street lights. don’t even want to spend a few thousand to fix it,” he scoffs, thinking the figure would’ve apologised and ran away, but he’s a little pumped to see you, a relative of the very kid he was running away from. “don’t wanna chase me with daddy over there?”

you notice he’s nodding his head toward the incessant siren, your hotheaded father and your insufferable brother, two of them who butt heads all the time but still manage to get along. you couldn’t care less though, because of their arrogant, conceited behaviour; you vowed never to be like that. your father failed to raise you how he wanted you to turn out: dyed hair at sixteen, a stick ’n poke a year later, colluding with the “wrong” people (they were harmless, he just didn’t like them).

so he turned to your brother, corrupting his mind, and since then, you’ve been a ghost in the house, happy to even be ignored by the conservative kin that find people who are different a ’hassle’. with a story like this, gojo isn’t exactly clueless to your situation so he reaches over and opens the door to the passenger seat in a silent offer.

what’s a little salt in the wound, right?

gojo giggles when you slip in like he knew you would and you simply shrug, knowing this would seal the deal. you know you’re right when you hear furious honks from the police car which is quickly approaching, but watching gojo evade police on the news made you confident he’d outrun them every. single. time. “ooh, doesn’t sound good, princess. i’ll pick you up if you get kicked out of the house.”

it was such a dirty, rude comment that you would’ve slapped him but instead you just burst out laughing, weird noises and all before you’re patting the hand on his stick shift, “drive, hotshot.”

all you can do is roll your eyes with a smile, not missing the exhilarated smile and blush on his cheeks. you already feel at home in the 1969 camaro he’s driving, seeing the exact same car later that night when you’re waiting on the sidewalk with a bulk of your things.

“so much for being daddy’s girl.” gojo smiles, a little sickeningly that you want to punch him (you hear it’s like that from his friends and you find it to be true), but you accept the ride anyway, with a promise he’d get something more later.

✶ GETO

the first time you see him is before a race, having stumbled into the bustling underground of cars and the peak of 2000s fashion because you’re still navigating japan even after six months on an exchange program. it’s difficult when they have different parking lots for every monument building, which all look the same, mind you. it was like a puzzle for your poor mind, especially since there was tons of undocumented alleys in the area you were in. u immediately get hit by the smell of petrol and smoke and conversation and it’s like woah…. stepping entirely into a new world sort of??? even with his fame suguru stays humble tho, keeping gojo ans nanami close to him while keeping his distance from fangirls and stuff. shit gets messy !!!!

gojo nudges geto so hard he almost falls if not for his mazda behind him, and he’s ready to shoot a glare towards satoru but then he looks past the annoying man and into the crowd to find you, doe eyed and looking all around the place like a deer caught in headlights. you’re all dressed up in a cute get-up, hair framing your face so cutely he has half a mind to talk to you. plus, it’s clear you don’t belong here, and there isn’t anything wrong with that but the people here sometimes tend to be a tad bit… stuck-up.

there’s already a few in the crowd giving you weird looks and others giggling, clearly put off by the confused glances you exchange between your phone and the area. geto is prepared to head your way, but his resolve hardens when he sees todo and his gang start to approach the poor person who can only freeze in place.

geto pushes off his car immediately, completely disregarding whatever comment gojo was making while nanami watches silently. todo’s already asked you a question, and when you don’t answer, everyone knows the next thing he’ll do is to humiliate you, but not before geto interferes.

“she’s mine, aoi.” shoving him away, todo only scoffs and spits on the floor beside you because he can’t do anything except leave the place before anything escalates. it’s a clear rule, too, that anyone’s partner or significant other is off-limits, unless you want to propose a race to win them over — but even so it’s not that simple.

the murmurs only heighten when geto asks if you’re okay, a palm on your back to lead you away from the action of everything. thankfully, his mazda and the other two men are stationed at the corner, and the crowd’s attention slowly pulls away from you and onto the revving engines of the two competing cars.

“you okay?” geto looks down, shielding the bright car park lights and peeking a glance at where you were meant to go. it’s a quaint cafe in the basement of a building near shibuya square — a place which could be accessed by the parking lot, but it looks like you took an early turn and ended up in this one instead.

all you could muster up was a nod, mind going a hundred miles per hour just like those cars that were going to race; you’re more focused on his brown eyes that hold yours too well, though, dark and hypnotising that he has to repeat his question.

“yeah. for the most part, i guess. tha—” you mumble, but before you can bow and thank the man who’s already making a mark on your mind with his imposing stature, his friend chimes in.

“don’t mind aoi, he’s just intense like that.” you look past geto to see the white-haired racer who sports a bright grin, and to his side, a blonde, bored-looking guy who’s around the same age. “where you headed?”

geto waves a hand at them and cuts in as you answer, “i’ll take you. don’t mind those two idiots.” his sudden offer has your heart jumping just a bit; a mean brooding guy looking for a little cafe who’s holding a cinnamoroll event at the moment? what a sight to behold.

you’re all prepared to go when gojo tosses the keys to his mazda, and you’re thinking that maybe it really was further than expected but the man is soon leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“but before you go, want to watch me race?” geto grins, noticing that you’re at a loss for words again. you do that a lot, huh. it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little to get you absolutely speechless.

“i’ll treat you to whatever you want in that cute cafe, too.”

✶ NANAMI

ok the small drabble i wrote was sorta how they met but yes basically that!!!! nanami comes in at first (but you’re not doing much, just hanging around in the back), panicking cause he’s got an important race tmr (he just doesn’t gojo to win over whether he would have to borrow one of gojo’s dodge chargers) and hes like ? hes wondering what’s wrong with his dodge and when your dad mentions how he may need to order the parts his world falls apart fr 😭. and then he ends up borrowing it from gojo LMFAOOO. since you guys roughly know their meeting (nanami’s return to the shop after your father fixes the car and then eating you out wheeew) ill highlight life with nanami after that whole shebang!

you like to recall the first time you’ve met nanami, hardly a meeting, really, because you didn’t even see his face, but you hear his voice. a deep timbre with a seriousness to it that tells you that he could’ve fixed his own car if he tried and maybe just lacked the parts. however, you’re appalled when your father comes home later that night and tells you it was a dodge charger they were dealing with, a 1968 release that was no doubt passed down in his generation.

so when you’re peeking out of the supply room the second time nanami returns, you’re not surprised by his blonde hair, possibly a descendant of european blood, but had been born and raised in japan. it wasn’t uncommon, but it felt like he was such a specific ethnicity with the features he had. you’re right when you’re out with nanami a few weeks later, learning his grandfather was danish, smiling as he talked about his family.

it was by chance that he got into the racing scene, getting acquainted with gojo briefly because he was always infuriating in class — but then the both of them began to grow out of high school and entered university, introducing nanami to both geto, gojo’s best friend and to racing. it had made an impression on his heart immediately, reluctantly asking to ride in gojo’s car as they sped through the night and then trying his hand at it later.

“so geto-san was the one who taught you how to drift?” you ask from the passenger seat, a calm atmosphere surrounding the two of you as nanami takes you out for a casual drive along the freeway, bringing you to his favourite place to drift ever since he’s trained there. it was a clean ascent once he reaches the mountain, jogging over to open the door for you before sticking out a hand.

“thank you… kento,” you feel his hand tighten around yours, bringing you around to the front before leaning on the front of the car with you, the jangle of the bracelet he’s got you making noises when he pulls you into his side. it’s been a month with him, yet he already feels so committed, albeit stoic.

but you realise, in the midst of it, you’re the only one who can manage to pry a smile out of him, the lines on his face fading away when he picks you up from your dad’s shop. the loud engine is always an indicator, greeting him at the door of the garage as your father sends you off with a grin, leaning into the driver’s seat to press a peck through the window.

“when you say my name like that,” nanami mumbles, appreciating the scene with his lips in your hair; and while nanami is all soft and gentle with you, sometimes his carnal instincts get the best of him and he says the filthiest things, unprompted, “it makes me want to eat you out on the hood of my car again.”

you roll your eyes with a smile, because you’ve already done it twice: one in the shop and another in a secluded car park, but you know nanami hasn’t glutted his appetite for you yet, and he makes sure you know he never will.

✶ TOJI

the drabble previously mentioned how you were a little older megumi — through tutoring megumi, you met toji. it was a chance encounter sort of, u put up an ad at the end of your second year of uni since the winter break was a little longer than usual, so you decided to earn a bit of pocket money thru tutoring in the one subject you were most comfortable in: humanities. the syllabus in schools nowadays has become harder too, even going as far as to research papers and then scoff in disgust at the intensity of the questions lol … it’s routine in the school system to do that, gearing up for the questions you might be asked when u first get an enquiry call on the line. you hang up with a time and address and when u reach megumi opens the door, but toji emerges from his man cave (garage. hes obsessed w/ his corvette) later and jesus christ hes (almost) six foot of pure dilf that youre considering sidling up to him instead LMAO. esp with how the house looked, it wouldnt be so bad being a old man’s bitch

the doorbell you rang reverberates throughout the house, albeit a bit muffled, but the door opens quickly and you’re met with a black spiky-haired kid, who looks a few years younger than you. but megumi didn’t really need an introduction, because you’re pointing it out to him once inside.

“aren’t you the kid that got suspended for beating up gang members?” sometimes his seniors never knew when to shut up. to this, megumi just sighs.

“yep, that’s me. i told you my name over the phone but,” he extends a hand, “i’m fushiguro megumi.”

you hum and take his hand, introducing yourself as well before a thud makes you snap your head to the noise, where a larger and taller man emerges from the door that connects the living room to the garage. he has features similar to megumi’s and he’s currently clutching his toe, stubbing it on the cabinet on his way out and cursing his head off.

it isn’t difficult to match name to face for him as well, remembering a report you did on the increasingly popular racing scene starting up again. don’t ask — it was a pretty open assignment and you didn’t hesitate to write about the culture back then, something you always wished you lived in.

now, you’re not too taken aback by casually stumbling across fushiguro toji’s home, but more of how he managed to maintain his physique for so many years. if there’s anything your research told you, he was more on the lanky side in his twenties, the right side of his mouth clear from the scar while dominating the drifting scene back in the 80s.

“who’re you, kid?” a little annoyed at the name but you open your mouth to introduce yourself, and toji nods, although confused. it seems like he’s not too involved in megumi’s grades, because when you tell him megumi himself had called you over a bad grade in literature and social studies, his expression drops into an ‘o’. 

“ah, i would’ve taught him myself but…” you knew he dropped out of high school before, living a crap life trying to pay off debts his father had left him and turning to racing and winning bets to make a living out of it. it was scary how this information was so accessible to you via one of his interviews, but you can tell he’s put it long before him, choosing to focus on raising megumi and maintaining his corvette.

“make yourself at home, alright, doll?” doll. you stutter out an affirmative reply.

though when he said that, you hadn’t imagined wandering into the same door he had came out of before. he was probably checking on the condition of his car, knees protruding out of the corvette’s side as he rolls out on the creeper at the sound of someone approaching. you didn’t wish to do this, truly, but when some kids from megumi’s school had attempted to play a prank by picking toji’s lock to get back at megumi, the latter had discovered them after coming out the side door.

needless to say, megumi still holds up his reputation, chasing them down for more than three blocks (it was seven) before proceeding to, you assume, beat them up. you imagine it’s routine for toji at this point, but you still want to at least let him know.

“he’s off again?” toji sits up after hearing your explanation, using the wrench to scratch his temple. sure, he’s only like twenty years older than you — it certainly doesn’t stop you from checking out how his muscles bulge against his compression shirt, or the grey sweatpants he’d got on that you told yourself not to peep at. “don’t mind the kid, i’ll lecture him when he returns later.”

he sighs and grumbles under his breath, expecting you to leave, and when you don’t he just raises an eyebrow, a silent prompt for you to explain what else you needed. you only pointed to the hood. 

“uh… toji-san, if you’re keen on getting back into racing,” toji fully stands up to his height, curious on what you have to say, but also wondering how much balls you had to talk about racing in front of him, “you should really change your 283 cubic-inch V8 to a 327. i, uh, heard the specifications on the new engine has better fuel delivery and horsepower.”

toji relaxes when you actually know your crap, not wanting to deal with another annoying fan begging him to get back into racing, although you’re not entirely off the hook. “and why should i listen to you, hm, doll?”

he stands there, unimpressed, but you didn’t research cars like a madman for nothing. it was a rabbit hole you had commended yourself for diving into, too, because you always had wanted to start, just, how? and that changed when you finally had the opportunity to delve into the complicated world of cars with the help of your friend’s dad who was a mechanic. “um… you really don’t. just giving some pointers, or at least, recommendations that go well with your ’66 corvette.”

oh my god? you know the exact year his chevrolet was released too?

the ex-racer only nods slowly, keeping it in mind for the next time he has the time to switch to an updated engine, but he didn’t expect help to come from your hands the next time, working under the hood like a professional while still leaving the heavy lifting to him. you had fun each time in the garage, exchanging intel and geeking about cars while you both open up to each other — all under the guise of tutoring his son.

since then, toji has taken his corvette out to meet you more than he takes it out for errands, meeting you with a promise that he would take care of your university fees. but none of the time spent with you would’ve warned him that you two would be changing his next engine, too, except that maybe, you were finally his girl.

why does toji’s always end up the longest bye. also this is the only req i’ve gotten, i swear i don’t bite guys. ♡ thirsts and drabble requests are open!

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

I GOT A NEW CAR

Everybody meet the new baby that i will never shut up about forever!

This is Clifford the Third, my new 1996 Nissan Pickup!! I probably paid too much for her but given that I live in Massachusetts and she has virtually no rust I’m okay with that lol.

So a brief history of the Nissan Pickup! These trucks were released in the US in 1985 and were sold through 1997, when they were replaced with the Frontier. They were the successor to the beloved Datsun 720, which had been in production since 1979. They are in fact just called the Pickup! They’re colloquially known as the D21 - their chassis code, and the Hardbody, because of the double walled durable construction of the trucks’ bed.

The D21 was available with a couple different engines and drivetrain layouts. Mine is a 4x4 with the KA24 motor (which it shared with the 240SX/Silvia). She’s also a King Cab, meaning she has a slightly elongated wheelbase to allow for two small inwards facing jump seats in the back of the cab. Still a two door though.

AND SHE’S A STICK! She has a 5-speed manual transmission, and it’s the best transmission i’ve ever personally had in a car. She’s my third manual, the other two being a 1999 Toyota Corolla and a 2004 Subaru WRX, both of which were great but the Corolla had a really sloppy gearbox that felt incredibly vague at times, whereas the WRX had a sportier transmission that was pretty unforgiving and stiff. This one is definitive about where each gear is, but also won’t get too jerky or loud if you shift a little early or late.

Nissan Hardbody trucks are known and loved for their durability, versatility, and simplicity. They’re super bare bones but what they do have is built remarkably well and meant to withstand lots of abuse. If they don’t rust and have basic maintenance kept up it’s not uncommon for them to go 300k+ miles with minimal issues. Mine has around 184k miles, high but manageable. She also has a few modifications from the previous owner, namely a straight piped exhaust (no muffler, just one big long aluminum tube), aftermarket bumpers and lights, locking hubs, and a small lift. The guy i bought it from had plans to make it an off-roader but had too many projects and needed to offload one to make space in his driveway.

While many people either take these off-roading or turn them into drift trucks, my plan is to bring her back to mostly stock. I’m in the process of tracking down OEM bumpers and a more typical cat-back (from the catalytic converter back) exhaust system so she’s a little less obnoxiously loud. Since i mostly just need reliable transport more than a toy and she is now my sole car, I want to just make her relatively normal. But I love her a lot and am happy to be able to share!