#he has these super high walls up around his heart

[thinkingthougths]

-Ghost x female reader

1595 words

Warnings- none in this chapter.

The haunting of a Ghost

Chapter 2

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, soldier.”

The sudden sound coming from behind you made you drop the empty glass in the sink as you let out a foul curse in surprise.

Beneath the kitchens archway stood sergeant Kyle Garrick with his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his dirty face.

“Fucking hell Gaz, you almost gave me a damn heart attack.” You hissed at him, holding a hand over your heart that’s about to jump out of your rib cage.

The nasty words you wanted to throw at him for sneaking up on you and giving you a fright simmered out when you took notice of the smudges of dirt decorating his face and camouflage uniform.

“It’s already been a week?” Your eyes took in his wearisome face as you mumbled out the question that mostly was to yourself.

You remember the night before he and a few others shipped out for a week long mission somewhere you weren’t ranked high enough to know. It was the night. The one where Ghost chose to begin haunting your every waking moment after he burned his hooded eyes into your soul.

Gaz shoved himself off of the wall he had put his weight on and sauntered over to one of the round dining tables near you. With a weary sigh, he plopped down onto a chair and scratched his week old scruff.

“A long ass week. Successful and no major injuries on the team, though.” There’s a croaky undertone in his voice, hinting that he hasn’t slept well enough for probably the entire week.

During the time you’ve spent on this base, you’ve only ever had one mission together with the sergeant, about a year ago or so. Vividly recollecting the cool demeanor he adapted the second your feet touched ground out from the helicopter. Gone was the lax and easygoing Gaz, instead an exceptional soldier revealed himself. It was an amazing thing to witness, only ever heard tales and buzz before of the adept super soldier he transformed into.

Outside of the war zone, you and Gaz became solid friends. Even though he ranked higher than you, he never treated you as inferior. Which was otherwise quite common with these macho soldiers.

Chewing on the inside of your cheeks, you wavered on whether you should bite the bullet and confess the thoughts that’s been with you since his small departing party. If his teammate and close friend had some sort of feelings towards you. May it be infatuation or downright disgust. The mere knowing would vehemently calm your nerves and perhaps make it a bit easier to be around Ghost again.

The clock ticks on the wall. It’s the witching hour, a time when supernatural beings are believed to be the strongest. You already have a ghost haunting you, all hours of the day.

Hastily fetching the glass and filling it up to the brim with water, you chug down half of it to moisten your throat that has now become not only dry from the earlier sweating but now also from trepidation from spilling what’s been nagging you for seven days.

Your voice fails you as a strangled squeal leaves your lips instead of actual words. Gaz, lost in his own post mission musings, takes no notice and instead determinedly slams a hand on the table, making it rattle from the unintentional force.

“I need a shower before I bloody croak from exhaustion.” He declares, forcing his battered muscles to rise from the wobbly chair. “And you, need to get back to your bed, young lady.” Nodding his chin towards you, waving a weak goodbye as he leaves the kitchen.

And that was it. He went back to his barrack and left you standing with your jaw slack.

You did pity him, recognizing the toll an intense mission takes on one’s mind and body. But you also resent him, just a tad, for not noticing the awkward behavior you clearly and unwillingly were presenting. You really wanted to get some goddamn answers and when the opportunity showed itself, you messed up and choked on water.

It seems you can’t catch a break this week, you discontentedly thought to yourself as you marched back to the barracks where your sweat drenched poor excuse of a bed awaits you.

-

At noon, much to your chagrin, training was scheduled, hand to hand combat taught by some skilled superior. There’s been talks of a new instructor that will train you, no name had been given so it’s going to be a complete surprise.

Stood outside the gyms door, murky light made its way through the frosted glass and blurred out everything for you except for dancing shadows of people moving around in there.

It was an unusually cold day for mid autumn. Frosty tendrils of winds grazed your reddened cheeks as you contemplated today.

You reached for the metal doorhandle and was met with tiny sparks of pain as the sharp cold metal seeped into your skin. Retracting your hand instantly, checking your palm as if you had been burned with ice.

A crow flew over you, cawing its screech and looking like the textbook sign of a bad omen.

It certainly felt like it, being warned by something otherworldly to heed the signs and not enter the gym. Instead run away as far as you can and save yourself from whatever horrible destiny may lay inside these trepidatious doors.

If only participation wasn’t needed.

Voices coming from behind the corner of the building pushed you into finally opening the heavy door with anxiety cursing through your warm blood vessels.

While inside, beelining it to the women’s locker room, you sweep your eyes along the people on the workout machines and training mats. Scanning each person inside to find out if he’s here.

The insane physique the behemoth of a man has doesn’t just magically appear. No, Ghost spend many hours in here, priming his mighty body and growing those thick muscles. His calamitous body and towering height is part of the reason he scares you, if he wishes he can easily crush your skull, pop it like a melon between his bulging biceps.

Nausea finds its way up your throat. To daydream about the countless way the lieutenant can end your life isn’t the smartest thing to do. Not when you’re about to experience sparring and similar holds Ghost can use to blow out your light.

An idea lights itself inside your brain. What if you shift the attention to another version of him. The second, and most unlikely, guess on why he acts differently with you.

That he fancies you. The outcome would at least leave you alive in the end, right? Actually, there’s a big chance you might not survive him in that scenario either.

You imagine what kind of immoral and depraved stuff Ghost must be into. There’s simply no way he prefer to be vanilla under the covers after the things he’s experienced in his somber life. A traumatic up-growing (heard once by a gossiping group passing by you) and a career as a cold blooded mercenary. No sane man survives such a chronicle of ungodly tribulations and comes out normal.

So, in a crestfallen conclusion, you’re dead meat either way.

Chatter from the girls in the locker room concludes you’re not the only one overstrung about today’s practice. One of them had apparently overhead a higher ranking and very experienced soldier is to be today’s instructor and that he’s going to absolutely break everyone’s spirit. Just great, it’s exactly what you needed, having your soul crushed by man screaming how shitty you are.

Persistence to surviving the military life you signed yourself off to a couple years back, when life was meaningless and you needed a firm hand to guide you, makes you a bit gutsy though. And that’s very much needed right now.

Proceeding to change into a black fitted T-shirt and matching gym leggings, you determinately march your way past the machines and land next to the other people here for the training. All standing in a neat row adjacent to the square training mat, patiently awaiting your instructor.

You’re pending between taking the opportunity of having all your frustrations let out by pretend fighting with the others or to tell a small white lie that you pulled a muscle during your last workout and are going to have to sit this one out.

The unusually high anxiety that’s been eating you up is putting you on edge, you can feel a phantom pair of dark eyes burning in the back of your head, it has you chewing on your nails and fidgety scanning the vast area. No one’s paying you any attention, no one’s even looking at you. It’s all in your head, you keep saying to yourself trying to make the queasiness disappear.

Some unnoticeable breathing exercises and you think your heart rate has gone down again. The thrum of the heartbeats is no longer clogging up your hearing.

You release a haggard sigh and unclench your tense fingers.

Just as you finally find some peace, you hear the door to the gym open up and all the former lively voices fades and machines slows down into a strained silence.

You don’t have to turn around and see who it was that just entered the building.

The raised hair on your arms and the rank smell of fear from the others reveals the persons identity. Not many can silence an entire room by just entering.

Ghost.

[ohimsummer]

satoru being one of those kids who was picked on and embarrassed with those cruel jokes. the “so and so likes you/wants to be friends with you” ones, and when he goes up to them all excited like “wow new friend!!” they just end up embarrassing him in front of everyone because “why would i like you? or want to be friends with you? you’re super weird.” the entire class is laughing at him. he’s humiliated.

and now, as an adult, satoru struggles with telling when someone is being genuine to him. not many are, most people don’t care to be around him which hurts in and of itself, but it hurts even worse when they pretend to like him only to end up betraying or disappointing him later. so when you come along, and he watches you approach him every day with a big smile and try and talk to him and you ask him if he wants to grab lunch together or hang out, satoru prepares himself for the worst.

he tries not to let himself get attached to you, and your friendly face, and the way you laugh at him because no one has ever laughed with him before, and those knowing stares you always give because satoru just knows one of these days you’re going to grow bored and leave him like everyone else has.

he keeps himself stuck in a constant state of denial, not realizing that your actions are indeed genuine and your motives are pure.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hii!! could i request a snow fic where she finds out she cheats on him and voluntarily tributes and hes trying to get her back? i loved the other fics!! I NEED MORE CHEATING SNOW FICS OMGG

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. || Young President!Coriolanus snow x district!reader

A/n: Sorry anon I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn't fully write your request. I wanted Coryo to lowk suffer in this which is why I didn't dive into details of him getting her back. There is also one scene that is heavily inspired by a scene in the movie Priscilla! I also spent so many hours perfecting this and it was super fun!!!

Warnings: fem!reader, implied infidelity, toxic!coriolanus, manipulation, not proofread, if there's anything else pls lmk!

Wc: 1609

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The rapid clicks echoed throughout the hallway, the sound reverberating off the 12-foot-high ceiling walls. You walk with an eager stride, each step filled with anticipation as you take the familiar route to Coriolanus' office where he spent most, if not, all of his time cooped up in due to the upcoming hunger games.

There was a heaviness in your heart. You have always been the epitome of grace and composure, a woman who played her role in the political theater with finesse, albeit your brief upbringing in district 2. However, behind closed doors, the truth unfolded, resulting in you heartbroken and most of all betrayed. You couldn't ignore the letters that would pile up weekly, the gifts, all for him, from someone by the name Lysandra.

Not bothering to knock, knowing it would provoke a reaction from him, you forcefully swung the double doors open. There sat Coriolanus Snow, seemingly unbothered at your entrance. "Is there a problem?" An icy, impersonal tone carried his words, sharp and emotionless.

Your nose flared as you felt a surge of frustration, his lack of concern and emotion fuelling your anger. Besides, you had never stormed into his office unannounced before. Surely, he would question your sudden abruptness and, visibly, your anger.

Your voice, though filled with a trembling resolve, posed the question, "Who is she?" You hold a letter between your fingers, lifting it up to show him. He lifts his head up from his papers. "And why on earth is she sending my husband gifts and-and love letters?" You stammer, throwing the piece of paper with writing and a kiss—in the form of a lipstick mark in a shade of deep red—on his desk; your façade crumbling at your feet.

Snow stares at you before a scoff leaves his lips, leaning back on his chair. "You know how the people admire me, it's likely that whoever it is, she's simply passionate about expressing her feelings to me," Coriolanus shrugs. Your eye twitches at his response. Lies.

"Really? Well, Lysandra is ever so passionate about expressing her undying love for you," You recite the words from her letter as you watch a subtle glint of knowing in his eyes, "She's the only one who has described her so-called affection for you so intimately!"

As you question your husband's loyalty, an unsettling quiet settles around him. His eyes, cold and calculating, hold yours without a trace of vulnerability. The absence of words from his lips becomes a formidable response, leaving an ominous uncertainty lingering in the air.

His office echoed with a tense hush, broken only by a subtle tapping of his fingers against the armrest in a rhythmic patter. "For god's sake, Coryo. Say something! Who is she?" The slip of his nickname makes you swallow.

"I won't entertain your accusation. She's merely an admirer, nothing more! Have you finished exhausting yourself with this matter, wife?" Coriolanus seethes, abruptly standing up as he gathers his papers, opens his drawer, shoves them in, and slams it shut with such force that you swore you felt it in your bones.

"Is there something your hiding from me?" There was a tense silence that followed your question, Snow's features contorted with a mix of frustration and defiance. Avoiding eye contact, he clenched his jaw and emitted a sharp exhale. The air was thick with unspoke tension, revealing an anger that simmered beneath the surface.

"I have nothing to hide from you," He says calmly but you knew damn well there was anything but calmness within him. Annoyed and frustrated at the lack of information, you open your mouth again.

'"Throughout our entire marriage, I have done nothing but showed you how grateful I am that you chose me to marry, a district girl. You helped me build a reputation here in the capitol so that I would finally be respected, and now, I ask just one simple thing of you," As you speak your voice wavers slightly, revealing the depth of emotion behind your words. "Who is she to you?"

In mere seconds, Coriolanus storms past you, a blur of motion, leaving you momentarily bewildered as you blink, only to find yourself in the same spot. "Coriolanus!" You yell, spinning around as you follow him. "I've just had about enough of you for today y/n," He spat as he briskly walked up stairs, you following him. Servants who were around hurriedly walk pass, heads down.

He steps into your shared private chamber, adorned with decadent furnishings and overlooking the Capitol. He walks a couple steps before he just stops. His breath came in heavy, rhythmic waves, his chest rising and falling with urgency, leaving you standing frozen at the entrance.

"You know, I think you should go see your family for a little while," He turns around as you felt your heart drop. "What?" Your voice echoed with a helpless tone. "You heard me, I think your family has been missing you in the districts, go pay them a visit. Tell them how grateful you have been that I chose you as the First Lady of Panem, hm?"

He takes purposeful strides to the next room, filled from top to bottom with expensive, lavish pieces of clothing befitting both him and you. Coriolanus then pulls out a travelling trunk. The thought of you going back to district 2 sent shivers up your spine. You knew that everyone there now thinks of you as a traitor.

"What- No- Coryo, I'm not going-" Coriolanus cuts you off with a yell, tears forming in your eyes, "I think you should! Matter of fact, I'll help you start packing." A loud noise comes from the trunk making contact with the floor making you jump, a sob leaving your lips. The trunk opening as he starts aggressively pulling your clothes from the black velvety hangers, tossing them into the trunk.

"Coryo- please. Don't make me go back there," You fall to you knees in front of the trunk as your shaky hands remove the pieces of clothing from it. "Yeah, well I think a few months in the districts, away from your lavish life here, will make you realise how easy it is that I can send you back there." He forcefully takes your chin in between his thumb and index as your glassy eyes stare back at his icy, raging, blue eyes.

"Please, please don't send me back there-" Your beg becomes interrupted as he drops his grip on you and yells out the door, "Simon! Get the train ready now for Y/n to go back home!" He calls out to his assistant who answers out a "Of course Mr. President," You let out another sob as you rest your head on the pile of clothing.

Coriolanus glances over his shoulder, his breaths lingering in the air, he could hear your quiet pleas. There's a yearning within him, a desire to approach you and envelop you in a reassuring hug, to tell your that everything is alright and that forgives you. Yet, and unyielding pride restrains him, holding him back from acknowledging that what he was doing was wrong.

With one final look, he turns around, leaving you in a crying mess. Coriolanus was going to send you back to district 2 until the hunger games finished, then, he would come get you and hope that your time there made you ponder your actions, although he knew they were quite reasonable.

Your allegiance to your husband shattered when you were forced onto the train, Coriolanus stood a couple metres away from you as you squirm in the peacekeeper's grips. As you made your way back to a place you once called home, a quiet determination settled within you as you hatched a plan that would not only expose Coriolanus' betrayal, but also allow you to reclaim a piece of your shattered identity.

~

As the Reaping day approached, you made a choice that sent shockwaves through the carefully orchestrated world of Panem. With a steady hand, you inscribed your own name on a slip of paper and placed it in the glass ball, committing yourself to the Hunger Games.

On the day of the Reaping, the Capitol Square buzzed with anticipation, the districts, not so much. Coriolanus, very much unaware of his wife's hidden actions, stood in front of the dignitaries on the stage.

The customary ceremony began, the escort pulls a slip pf paper from the glass ball, announcing the male tribute who would face the Capitol's twisted version of justice.

As the tension mounted, the escort unfolded a slip of paper and read aloud, "Y/n Snow." A gasp rippled through the crowd, and Coriolanus's face contorted with disbelief. Time seemed to free as he processed the shock of seeing his wife's name called out. Surely there was a mistake.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, and anger boiled within him, mixing with the shock and confusion as the crowd erupted in whispers. A woman of Capitol elegance was now standing among the district 2 residents.

You weave through the rows of people, maintaining a stoic expression. As you step up on the stage, your eyes land on the camera a couple feet away from you where you know Snow was watching back in the Capitol.

Coriolanus stared at your face and in that moment, he saw the resolve and defiance that had replaced the hurt in your eyes. The Capitol, known for its love of spectacle, witnessed an unprecedented turn of events. Coriolanus Snow, the powerful President, was rendered speechless as his own actions came back to haunt him in the cruelest twist of fate.

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “DID YOU JUST FAKE THAT, PRINCESS?”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + FAKING AN ORGASM. ft. yamato endo, kiryuu mitsuki, & kaji ren x f!reader

content: explicit smut (18+), fem! reader, overstimulation, squirting, praise (genuine & mocking), degradation, teasing, dumbification, mild humiliation + corruption + dacryphilia + choking, fingering, cunninglingus, muffled (panties), doggy, mating press, wall sex, endo is mean, usage of pet names

mdni - 2.9K wc ; whew it ended up super long ! i had sm fun writing this one <3 as always, individual warnings are below

YAMATO ENDO.

note: ooc, written before newer chapters were out, sorry >:

taking you like this has always been endo’s favorite way to ruin you. your pretty noises are muffled by the mattress, ass high and back arched in a futile attempt to ease the stretch of his cock. it’s so good, and he grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back to slam against his own. his pace is unrelenting, length able to reach the deepest parts inside your cunt as you squeal and tug at the sheets beneath you.

“promise i w-won’t do it again,” you crane your neck to gasp for air, apology coming out frantic and slurred, and your face burns when he laughs— laughs at your sincerity and at the way that your jaw falls slack at the slightest change in his angle. “you’re sorry?” his words come out mocking, relishing in the way your teary eyes clench shut as you try to fight the tension building up in your core— because you know good and well that you’re not allowed to cum until he says the word.

“yea, ‘m sor—”

“sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he spits, “gonna have to make up for it, pretty girl. try again.”

his hands come to push your back further down into the mattress, angling your ass higher for him to let him bully his cock into you harder. it’s so cute how endearing you are, teary eyes trying to focus and think despite the way his heavy cock is hitting so deep inside you, his pace as rough as ever and your head foggy and dizzy.

“i will,” you blurt, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap with each roll of his hips— “i will! i’ll make it up, please endo, ‘m gonna cum, i think ‘m gonna cum—”

“aw,” his tone is low and mocking, pace slowing down ever so slightly as his fingers come to wrap around your throat and apply pressure, “since you’re so cute, i’ll be nice today.”

“cum with me and i’ll let it go, yeah?” he pulls out, until just the tip is inside before he slams back into you. “gonna have to use your brain and match my pace.”

and you’re nodding as soon as the words leave his lips, not a trace of hesitation in the way your shaky hands come to spread your ass wider for him, just the way he likes it. endo feels his dick throb at just how cute you are, holding yourself wide open for him to ravage you as you blabber about how good he feels— how close you are to cumming.

“alrightt,” he lulls, “ready, doll?” his tone comes out amused, but you can’t tell, nodding so desperately as your hips start to jerk. in an instant, he’s picking up his pace, hitting so deep inside you that it makes your eyes roll back in your skull, endo fucking you completely senseless with each snap of his hips.

“e-endo—” you gasp when the hand around your neck moves to push your head down, allowing him to better leverage himself as he buries his cock into the spot that has you screaming. your eyes widen when he finally growls out the word, the word that lets the knot inside you snap as you gush around his cock, thighs reduced to a violent tremor.

“f-fuuck,” he groans when your walls squeeze and flutter wildly against him, his jaw clenching shut to grunt a “just like that.”

“that’s my fucking girl,” he slurs lazily, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you as your walls continue to flutter around the thickness, your chest heaving up and down from the intensity.

the praise makes your heart swoon even with your current state, eyes half lidded and heavy and your mind barely able to register the lewd noises coming from your dripping cunt.

“feel good now? making a mess all over me?”

“mmhm,” you nod mindlessly, tired arms reaching back to swipe at your cunt like clockwork. it was something endo had taught you the very first time he took you, and you’ve never failed to do it since. it’s usually about now when you collect the load that seeps out of your hole, and he’ll pull you onto his lap next, urging you to stick those fingers in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it.

he’s addicted to how good the sight of you swallowing his cum makes him feel, cock throbbing and aching— picturing those pretty lips wrapped around his length again. it’s always enough to rile him up again and again.

your tired fingers rub between your folds, collecting the slick, but something’s different. “h-huh?” you stutter, head craning back to look at your hand. it takes you a moment, innocent eyes squinting as you inspect your fingers— there’s nothing besides your own slick.

“oh, fuck,” endo laughs loudly, “i can’t believe it.”

he grabs your arm roughly, earning a surprised yelp from you as he flips you onto your back, pressing your thighs flush against your own chest, his body hovering over you with a hunger that sends a shiver straight down your spine.

“still so fucking innocent, huh? thought you knew me better than that.”

“i-i don’t understand..” your voice trails off, face burning with embarrassment because he’s always being so mean to you. it takes you by surprise when you feel it slap against your clit, your gaze finally shifting downwards to see his cock— throbbing and slick with your juices, thick precum collecting at the tip.

he really didn’t cum.

“oh, dumb girl,” he coos, “did you forget our agreement?”

he wishes he had whipped out his phone to record the sight of you. it’s adorable, your pretty body folded into a mating press, teary eyes desperately looking up at him as you whine and complain that he tricked you, that’s he’s not being fair, but all he can think about is how he wants to ruin that pussy that you have so clearly on display for him.

he pushes his length inside you all at once, tip kissing your cervix as your head falls back, sobbing that’s it’s too much for you. “aww,” endo feigns sympathy, leaning forward until his face hovers right over the side of your neck, “it’s just too bad you didn’t do a very good job matching my timing.”

he licks a slow, deliberate stripe down your neck and sucks— sucks hard before releasing the skin with a pop to admire the mark he’s planted on you. “since you couldn’t do that for me,” he starts, fingers running along your waist, “you don’t have any other choice but to let me use this pretty body of yours, don’t you?”

“gonna fuck you so stupid— ‘till your brain’s too mushy to think up any more little tricks.”

KIRYUU MITSUKI.

“hey,” kiryuu slaps your cunt lightly, “i don’t remember teaching you to do that.”

his voice is gentle, almost unnervingly so as he pulls your back flush against his chest, hand coming to spread you open for him. “let’s try again.”

“j-just wanted more…kiryuu,” you whine when he’s slow to sink the first finger deep inside, pumping it in and out as his thumb comes to circle at your clit, the precision making your hips jerk and push against him.

“more?” his voice comes out directly besides your ear and it sends a strong shiver down your back, “you’re getting real greedy with me, princess.”

he obliges regardless, eyes gauging your reaction as he slips a second finger inside, pumping them a little faster into your cunt. “f-fuck…” you sigh, walls fluttering eagerly around his fingers when he begins to curl them against your walls.

“look— at the mess you’re making all over us.” your eyes shift downwards, face burning at the sight of his fingers, pretty hands coated in thick layers of your slick, the muscles of his forearms flexing with each curl of his fingers. “see?”

“that’s why i’m gonna take my time with you,” he coos, fingers curling against that spongy spot inside you that dots your vision with stars, “n watch your pretty pussy swallow my fingers like this.”

the lewd noises of his fingers fucking your cunt has you approaching your high, but you’re greedy for more— and knows that painfully well. he’s not any different, cock bulging tight under his pants and desperate to bury itself deep inside you, but not yet.

kiryuu fights back the smile that threatens to creep onto his lips when you gasp loudly at the stretch from a third finger slipping inside you, the thickness making your thighs tremble against his touch. “so pretty for me,” he lulls, “feeling good, huh?”

he loves watching your reactions, eyes intent on watching the way your expression contorts with pleasure, mouth slightly ajar to let out little pants and huffs, your own attention focused on how good his fingers feel inside you. he can tell you’re getting close with the way your thigh has started to tremble harder against his, hips occasionally jerking from the stimulation.

“you’re so good,” he coos, letting out a lazy grunt as his other hand comes to hold your face, “but no more looking. okay?”

his hand clasps over your mouth, your head tilting back to face the ceiling— and that’s when he switches. your head falls back on his shoulder when he’s suddenly he’s suddenly fucking you faster, fingers slamming into the most sensitive spots inside you. his thumb comes to rub roughly at your clit, drawing lewd moans from you as your thighs try and clamp together to fight the stimulation.

“i know, baby, i know—” his voice comes out calm, and he knows what you need. he knows how to work his fingers to make your head spin, knows this pace will have you whining that it’s too much, but he wants to see you cum. so he aims to pummel his fingers against that deep spot inside you, relishing in the way your thighs tremble violently in response.

“mmmp—!” your moans come out muffled against his hand, but he understands. “you’ll cum for me this time, won’t you?”

his hand leaves your mouth, a thick string of saliva connecting the two before he’s holding your thigh open for him, spreading you so he can thumb at your clit harder. “y-yes! ‘m gonna cum, f-fuck— kiryuu” you babble, eyes clenching shut and hands coming to squeeze at his forearms.

it’s too much. you find yourself right along the edge, eyes clenched shut because it’s just too much, but your cunt is eagerly swallowing his fingers whole, juices dripping down your thighs and his arms— “that’s right, you’re so good for me.” his voice comes out a little rushed, a little more breathless as he fucks his fingers into you.

“you can take this.”

all it takes is one more curl of fingers and his thumb to swipe over your clit to have you crying his name loudly, cunt spasming around his fingers as you gush all over him. you whine when he takes his fingers out, dragging them along your folds to watch the way your hips jerk at the overstimulation.

“that was better. see?”

he brings his fingers to your face, and you open your mouth in a daze, swirling your tongue lazily around each finger as he sighs contently, cock throbbing at the thought of your lips wrapped around his dick instead. “ahh… that’s so good.”

“you’re doing so good,” he whispers, “you can take another one. turn around for me, sweet thing.”

KAJI REN.

“thought i told you to be quiet,” kaji growls against your cunt, “not to fake it.”

“‘m trying—” you stammer, thighs trembling as your hands lay flat on the surface, your body bent over his desk as he eats you out from behind.

“what?” his voice ghosts against your clit, making you suck in a sharp breath, “needa be muffled?”

your face burns when he takes out your panties, wet from the way he was grinding his cock against your clothed cunt earlier. you got him so riled up— his mind still stuck on how irresistible you looked folded over his desk, his bulge nestled so nicely between the globes of your ass. he should have tossed you onto his bed next, get a good look at how his cock sits between your thighs when you’re in prone bone, then get you arching your back and pulling at the sheets for him because he always fucks you that good.

but you had to test his patience today.

“open.” he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, fingers subtly ghosting over your lips before his hands are back around your thighs, tugging on them to urge you to come closer.

"gonna teach you a lesson," he spits, and his mouth is back on your cunt in an instant, tongue coming to roughly lap at the slick that’s started dripping. your face contorts, thighs pressing together- but his rough hands are moving to keep you wide open for him.

kaji has always been messy, groaning directly into your cunt as he licks and sucks, eating you out with fervor until he knows your eyes are rolling back into your skull, lewd noises barely muffled by the tiny wad of fabric in your mouth.

he’s slurping loudly, licking and sucking on your clit, and he brings his tongue down to prod at your hole, eyes narrowing into a glare when you try and clench your thighs together. his hands come to hook around the front of your hips, yanking you roughly back until you’re flush against his face, his tongue deep inside your hole as he licks in every direction, fucking you on his tongue while you make those sinful noises for him.

“k-kaji,” your words come out slurred from the muffle, your saliva dribbling onto his table, “‘m close!”

“oh f-fuck,” you cry when two fingers are shoved deep inside you, lewd noises echoing in his room when he fucks them in and out of your cunt, his mouth coming to flick at your clit. it’s becoming too much, and you try to escape by going higher onto your toes— but he doesn’t let you.

“don’t you dare,” he warns with a low growl against your cunt, hand squeezing your thigh to keep you firmly planted against his face. “quit squirming and take it.”

the knot in your stomach is tightening, pushing you closer and closer as his fingers seem to reach impossibly further inside your cunt with each movement, beating against that sweet spot inside that has you moaning so loudly against your panties.

“a-ah—” your eyes widen when his tongue flicks over your clit perfectly, and the coil inside your stomach snaps in an instant, screaming into the fabric as your walls flutter over his fingers, gushing into his mouth as he groans and laps at your cunt messily.

your jaw goes slack even he begins to slows down, fingers leaving your walls empty and needy so he can bring them to his lips and suck on them, get a last taste of you before he’s sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. your panties fall onto his desk, body reduced to a trembling mess.

and it’s everywhere. dripping down your thighs, coated over his entire hand— his face. if he was even trying to get it off of his mouth in the first place, it didn’t work.

“you’re fucking messy,” his voice is raspy when he leans over you, heavy cock pressing against your ass. “and we’re not done yet.”

there’s a deep, shaky groan from him when he first pushes his cock between your thighs, using your slick to get his dick wet. he’s throbbing by now, so desperate to be inside you, and it’s rubbing against your folds so nicely, tip nudging against your swollen clit each time he pushes forward.

“k-kaji,” you whine, “i wanna see you.”

his eyes widen a bit at the innocent request, your pretty face peering back at him with that fucked out look in your eyes— it’s cute. he’s gentle when his arms come to wrap around you, picking you up and pressing your back against the walls of his room.

“gonna make you cum over n over,” he grunts, sinking you slowly down onto his thickness. he’s always been harder to take in this position, cock practically splitting you open— and your sinful moans are going straight into his ear with the way you’ve latched onto his shoulders.

“you’re so big, kaji,” you gasp, “feels so good.”

“yeah?” his voice is low, breathless as he starts to slam his hips up into yours, tip prodding against your cervix each time he bottoms out. “you like that?”

“mhm,” your lips come to messily suck at his neck, and he groans loudly. “want more, kaji. please—”

"more?" he snarls, audible slaps echoing throughout the room from the way he's bouncing you even harder against his hips. "squirting all over my face wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

you grab at him to avoid falling from the roughness, arms tangled tightly around his neck to let him fuck you with pure strength, thickness spreading you so good as your slick dribbles down his balls.

"i better not hear you whining later that it’s too much.”

pt 2: suo, sakura, togame, & umemiya x f!reader

[saerins]

[ ೀ pucker up, buttercup | itoshi sae ]

ೀ content: female reader, fluff, sae and reader are adults, pet names (sae’s choice of words are stupid/idiot, calls reader ‘my girl’), alcohol, slightly suggestive at the end. | wc 1.5k | notes: okay did a very quick drabble for sae for christmas !! merry christmas to you guys <3

ೀ summary: being sae’s girlfriend is tough. there’s a lot of things he can’t make time for, and unfortunately this time, it’s you. but somehow, he always pulls through.

it’s christmas eve and you’re at your company function, looking at the fruits of your hard labour.

the event hall is decked with christmas decorations; stockings lining the walls and corresponding to different names for everyone’s secret santa to gift accordingly, christmas lights surrounding every table, everyone getting their fair share of the catering you’d arranged.

“this is amazing,” your boss gushes as she excitedly throws her arms around you. she’s only a few years older than you, so it’s not all too surprising that she’s always super friendly with you.

“relax on the alcohol, okay?” you joke with her, smelling the liquor already.

she pouts at you, batting her eyelashes. “oh c’mon, are you still upset that your boyfriend couldn’t make it for christmas?”

you sigh, though you keep a strong front, smiling through it. being the private girlfriend of an international soccer superstar is tough; he has to miss holidays and special occasions and more often than not you can’t even get your calls through because he’s just that busy. you’d been excited for this year’s christmas though, because he had said he’d be able to fly back home this time.

but as it turns out, his manager—who so happens to love overworking him—has other plans. so all of that excitement just went down the drain. still, what else can you say to him other than good luck with it? you knew being his girlfriend was going to be tough, but it’s starting to take a toll after feeling like you barely exist in his world.

still, you stare at the message he last sent you.

i love you.

and you go soft. soft, because you know he means it. soft, because despite everything, you believe in the man you fell in love with. the one who gave you your first kiss back in high school, the one who’s so awkward that even initiating to hold hands last time had his entire face beet red. the one who never fails to assure you that in spite of the distance, he’s always still thinking of you.

you fiddle with your necklace, the promise ring sae gave you when you were back in high school sitting around your neck like it always has.

in between all the long distance arguments and the time differences and the i miss you, wish you were here with me, you still find yourself hopelessly in love with itoshi sae. even when your friends say they can’t imagine being in your shoes, even when numerous tabloids love to put models or athletes as your competition, you know there’s still no one else you’d rather be with than him.

“i’m fine, really,” you assure your boss, prying her off of you and then adjusting her so her arm is around your shoulder as you lead her to her stocking. “here, why don’t you busy yourself and see what your secret santa got you?”

you really just want to distract your boss so she wouldn’t accidentally end up throwing you a pity party. all you want to do today is to make it through it, spend the first hour of christmas day rounding up the party and then get home and sleep your day away. it’ll distract you from the absence of your boyfriend anyway.

as you watch your boss happily open up whatever’s in her stocking, you wonder if your secret santa got you anything. (of course, some secret santas are dicks and end up not getting their person anything.) so count yourself lucky when you open up your stocking to find both a gift and a card.

amused, you rip the card out of its envelope, your heart skipping a beat when you see that inside of it, there’s a picture of you and sae as high school kids, beside each other, his face deadpan while you’re grinning from ear to ear, resting your head against his shoulder. the message reads: i love you so much it’s stupid.

you’re still in shock but you open up the little gift box, maroon with a green bow on it. when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but chuckle.

holding it above you, under the light, you can see the words hey, stupid engraved on the side of the fake mistletoe before feeling a warm pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, cold lips catching you off guard as they press themselves against yours.

it fills you up inside, takes all the weight off your shoulders. you’ll recognise him anywhere, without having to look or hear, the way his lips feel against yours, how he holds you gently against him, laughing softly against your lips as you pull him closer to you by the collar.

never in your wildest dreams did you expect to see your boyfriend in japan, let alone at your work party of all places, and now here you both are, kissing under the mistletoe.

“woah relax there,” he teases you, pulling away but still holding you close.

he’s here, he’s actually here. his hair’s in a mess, and there are circles under his eyes, but he’s smiling. he’s smiling at you and he’s here with you and you don’t even feel the tears forming in your eyes because you’re too busy relishing in the moment.

“itoshi sae,” you call out to him, your hands patting on his body, his black coat and his scarf are real and he’s here—he’s really here. “i thought you were too busy to come back…”

how long has it been now since you’d last seen him? a year? perhaps longer? he’s been so busy nowadays that you wondered at one point if he would even come back to you at all.

sae sighs, holding your cheeks in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours. “i’m sorry,” he says tensely, shaking his head slightly. “i was away for so long, and i just…” his teal eyes stare into yours, both your eyelashes dancing against one another. “i missed you, and i just wanted to see you.”

you’re laughing in disbelief, still holding him close because you’re just that afraid that this’ll all be an illusion that might soon slip away. “and they just let you off like that? that simple?”

he presses his lips into a firm line, averting his gaze. “let’s just say that they weren’t happy about it but i’m the important one, so…” he smiles, genuinely, putting an arm around. “they don’t have a choice but to let me come home to see my girl.”

turns out, he’d called in a favour to your boss, asked her about christmas plans because he knew from your texts that you were in charge of putting it all together. and then he asked her to put the gifts in your stocking. and you laugh hearing about it, because you’re thinking of how your life could’ve gone a totally different way. you could’ve gotten into a relationship with someone else who wouldn’t do this much for you, wouldn’t make time for you, wouldn’t travel across the world and put their own things down all in the name of meeting you.

“what’re you thinking about, stupid?”

you look into his eyes, shaking your head. “nothing, it’s nothing, i just- i love you, itoshi sae.” you smile, and sae smiles too because he loves how your smile reaches your eyes. and he loves being the reason you smile so he’s going to keep being that—and he makes a promise to himself to make you happy for life. but maybe that’s a gesture for next time. right now, he just wants to spend the rest of the holidays with you.

the clock strikes twelve, and he steals the mistletoe from you, holding it up between the two of you again, wincing from how cheesy it is after he does it, earning a chuckle from you.

“merry christmas, idiot.” and he kisses you again, long and slow and completely oblivious to everyone else that’s there who are staring and clapping—half of them still in awe that the itoshi sae is here and half of them in shock after putting two and two together that he’s your special guy.

“so, you’re gonna be here till new years’?” you ask in between kisses.

sae nods, “at least, why?”

you grin, pulling him by the belt as you lead him out of the event hall. “think it’s time we get home and just spend it between the two of us, yeah?”

sae laughs, letting you drag him along, wondering whether by this time next year, will he be lucky enough to call you his wife?

but when he sees that promise ring he gifted you still nestling snug around your neck, he has no doubt. you’re each other’s for life. and you’re worth every single risk he has to take.

[nurse-floyd]

Let me set the scene:

It's the Vegas Grand Prix, 2023. Lando has his crash, is high as a bloody kite in the hospital. Lando sees his nurse and I'd convinced he's dead bc 'why else would there be a legit angel?'

This is super short and silly but I absolutely adore this request! Thank you <3

P.S. I also love this and it is possibly one of my favourite photos of him! Boy is high as balls.

The red emergency phone rang, signaling an incoming ambulance, and you answered it with a sigh. "Mercy General Emergency Department," you answered as you clicked your pen and got the handover sheet ready to write down the patient information.

"Male…24…high-speed crash into a wall," you repeated back to dispatch that alerted you to the incoming patient, hating that you’d be spending what was left of your shift dealing with someone’s drunken antics or stupidity that had crashed them into a wall.

"How fast was he going?" you asked, not expecting the answer.

"180."

"Come again? 180mph and he’s still alive?" you repeated, not being able to hide the shock. "Do we need blood? X-Ray? Trauma surgeons and blood on standby? No one has called ahead." You suddenly woke up from the usual lull you felt around this time during your shift, your mind suddenly in full trauma mode.

"No, just precautionary checks. Patient is a Formula One driver and has been cleared by track medics, but they want a second opinion at the hospital and some scans in case."

Then it hit you…you followed F1 and had done for a few years. You’d been following the race on your phone during your breaks and knew Lando had crashed out during turn 14.

"Okay. Thank you, have you got an ETA?"

Dispatch relayed the time of arrival that gave you enough time to announce it over the tannoy and for your team to gather in one of the trauma rooms. You also called in security because you knew the press would be vultures all over this.

With the trauma room ready, you all waited for the arrival of your VIP patient. If you were being truthful, you were a little nervous at meeting one of your celebrity crushes but also knew you needed to keep it professional. What you didn’t expect was the goofy look on Lando’s face as he was wheeled on a stretcher into the room.

As soon as the paramedic crew had handed over and you’d transferred him over to the bed, you began attaching him to monitors and got your list of investigations and tests you’d need to perform from the doctor in charge.

The paramedics had clearly dosed him up with the good meds as he stirred in and out of consciousness, his eyes glassy and the goofy smile still plastered on his face every time his eyes met yours.

You woke him up once again, ready to check his pupils and GCS once more when he was a little more alert than he’d been since he arrived.

"Woah…am I dead?" his voice came out slightly slurred.

"The heart monitor beeping next to you would say otherwise," you laughed in reply.

"Are you sure, because why else would an actual angel be standing in front of me right now?"

You couldn’t help another laugh that escaped your lips as you watched him try to focus on you.

"And that would be the morphine," you fiddled with his IV and checked the fluids running before you input a few more things on his chart.

“I don’t think it is…” he slurred once more, “I know an angel when I see one.”

You were about to reply when you looked up from his chart and saw he’d fallen asleep, his head against his chest. You got up from your seat and adjusted his pillows so his neck wouldn’t be even more painful in the morning.

[red-doll-face]

Getting caught in the rain with Arthur leads to him finding creative ways to warm you up.

(high honor) arthur morgan x fem. reader

I love this trope! prob been done before but I cant resist... 😔Can you believe I wanted this to be a short head canon post?? LMAO it ended up way longer than that. That's why it has a more casual thing going on despite being super long 🥲Happy thanksgiving! This is for the girlies who are stuck with family and need something absolutely filthy to read !!! 💕💕💕💕💕

Warnings: NSFW content, vaginal sex, while honor isn't too relevant, arthur is very sweet and hes kind of a weenie here, in a good way! arthur does not have bad intentions here, he's genuinely a sweet little man...

-

Thinking of begging Arthur to take you away from camp for a while. Maybe you haven't had a bath in a bit or you're sick of hearing Swanson drunkenly parade around camp. But you've decided to ask Arthur, he's always so sweet to you and you know he won't say no. And Arthur and his stupid bleeding heart (the one that bleeds so much more for you) grumbles and pretends he's thinking about it but really he'd probably say yes to anything that came from your lips. He has no regrets when he sees the smile you give him. You're hoisted up onto the back of his horse, holding onto his waist so you don't fall. Arthur is desperately trying to play it cool. 

Then the rain starts coming down, you're soaked through very quickly and Arthur, such a gentleman, sheds his coat to give it to you, except now he is soaked through as well. The both of you are freezing and he tells you that you have to stop until the weather clears. He’s cussing up a storm worse than the one you're in. You nod, just wanting to be warm, wracked by shivers. He comes up on an abandoned shack and guides you inside, shutting the rain out. You're standing in the center of the room, looking like a wet cat after a miserable bath, Arthur is kind enough to take his coat off of you, giving you a ratty old, moth bitten blanket but it doesn't do much of anything for the cold. Trying to get a fire going proves fruitful but it's a small one and the wind blowing in from the flue almost puts it out several times.

Arthur feels so helpless, sitting there watching your teeth start to chatter as you sit in front of the pathetic little fire. He's trying to apologize (Ah, I’m sorry, I didn't know it was gonna come down like that,) but you only tell him it's not his fault. He has to help, all he wants to do is help. Things aren't getting any better and he doesn't want you to come down with something on account of him being an idiot. And then he gets an idea. He’s red all over flushed at the thought but he knows taking your soaking clothes off would help. And he's standing there, awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while he tries to hide under his hat. He’s gently clearing his throat, trying to get your attention. 

“Maybe we could try… I…could…” he's nervously stumbling through his words and he's looking at you, sitting on the floor, desperately trying to warm your hands by the fire. You look up to him but he can hardly speak, so enraptured by the look of utter trust, reliance on him. His mouth hangs open but he swallows the lump of spit in his mouth. He tries to shake off these boyish jitters he gets around you. “Uhhh- I mean, it would be better if we weren't sittin’ round in these clothes, I guess, can’t be doin’ you any good...”  

“Really, you think so…?” Your voice is quiet and meek, struggling to say anything past the clicking of your teeth and the shivers. “Well then, turn around, Arthur,” at your obvious attempt to be modest, he nods stiffly and turns towards the wall, listening to you take your dress and your underskirts off, landing in a wet plop on the floor. You whine, peeling yourself out of your undergarments before a quiet ok leaves your lips. He turns and you're desperately covering yourself with that dusty blanket, legs bare, fabric hardly long enough to cover the soft mound between your legs, the fat of your inner thighs squished together. Arthur has a hard time keeping his gaze from locking onto any of the inviting bits of skin you show him. You're embarrassed, biting your lip, squeezing your arms around yourself. 

“Aren't you gonna- Arthur, you're gonna do it too, right?” Arthur has a hesitant nod and a course even though he just now thought he should probably follow along to help make you more comfortable. He’s removing his hat first, nothing to hide under now and he notices that you watch him take his gun belt off, unfastening his suspenders from his pants. You finally look away, his boots and his pants are peeled off and his shirt is unbuttoned. He’s breathing heavily now, naked as the day he was born. But you won't stop shivering. Your hair is still wet. And the fire is struggling to warm you from the bitter cold that clings to the dusty air. There isn't much left to burn for the fire. 

“You want me to hold you?” It's out of his mouth before he can stop it, trying to smack away these thoughts about the glimpses he’s getting of your naked figure underneath the blanket. He swears it's only out of necessity, that you're just not warming up fast enough. “Don’t want you gettin’ sick on me,” He really does only want you comfortable. Unrealistically hoping this won't change what you most likely consider a friendship. You nod, vigorously. 

“I think it would be ok, maybe if you just didn’t- didn’t look. Just- don’t look,” and you're desperate, curling up in his lap in front of the wavering fire. You're unable to look at him, but you still rub into him, enjoying how his body warms up a lot faster than yours. And both of you make some excuse that things would be better without that old blanket between you two. And suddenly you're pressed into him, his arms tight around you while he looks at the ceiling to avoid staring at things he shouldn't. Arthur struggles hard to keep from rubbing upwards into you, trying to keep you from sitting directly between his legs, afraid the way his body reacts to the feel of your body will scare you, scandalize you. But you only seem to want to be there more, getting comfortable with him. His chest hair tickles you, the hair creeps all the way down his torso. You giggle softly as it tickles you. His heart beats fast at the feel of you, so soft compared to the roughness of him.

As if all of the blood hasn't already rushed down to the very center of him, you just have to sit squarely on his lap. He tries to readjust you but it's too late and you've felt him, hard as a rock, pushing at you. He's so embarrassed, stumbling over an apology, “Shit-I-I’m sorry, I-” in that surly voice, all rough and low. you gasp and look over your shoulder. You see how he can hardly stand to look at you with his pretty blue gem-toned eyes. Instead he shows you his profile as he turns away. 

“It's ok”, Arthur has no idea how he's supposed to look at you after this, he can't see himself looking you in the eyes for a long while after you've felt his cock nudging the swell of your ass, unable to deny his own reaction to you. Hopefully he’ll be able to dismiss it as a fluke and not a devastating hope that you’d be interested in him that he's been crushing down for months now. He's trying to will away the burgeoning desire just under his skin, tamping down fires that rage on. And you look up at him again with that look of trust in your eyes, too ashamed to continue touching you, wholeheartedly convinced you don't like him. 

But then you're only closer than you were, looking up at him, so close, he's breathing in your scent, sweet and like fresh summer rain. His eyes search yours for any inclination and all you have to do is put your hand on his prickly cheek for him to lean and kiss you, hands on his broad chest, rushing over the warmth you can feel. How he ends up with you on his lap, tits pressed up against his hairy chest, his big hands squeezing at your hips, he's not too sure. Your arms are over his shoulders, playing with his light brown hair sweetly, rubbing the sore muscles in his back. And the glide of his tongue over yours is heaven, he swears. You whine into his kisses, the heat between the both of you licks over your skin, noses clumsily bumping into each other. 

Then he’s on top of you, tucking you over the blanket. “You gotta tell me you want this, want me,” and all you can do is say “Yes, please, Arthur, please,” features showing your ecstasy, anticipating his hands on you.

His hands are rough; petting down your sides. Any worries he had about being too old, too ugly and too brutish for you are forgotten when you kiss him, spread your legs for him to fit between them. When you push your breasts in his hands when he goes to touch them. Your nipples are hard from the cold but his hands start to warm them up when he gropes at them, squeezing languidly at your breasts, grabbing handfuls.

It's not long before he’s pinning your thighs up with his hands, spreading you and licking eagerly between your legs, so selfless. Letting you moan as loud as you like, telling you how good you taste, the roughened pads of his fingers circling at the sensitive button at the top of your slit. And he's so strong, doesn't put much effort into keeping your legs up. He has dulcet praises for you, “Such a pretty girl, darlin’, jus’ beautiful,” making you soften and ease.

He’s so warm, holding you, like you wanted him to, messy kisses that taste like you. The very tip of him catches on you, dipping softly between your folds. Your nails dig into him, thighs clench tight. He's sweet talking to you, shushing you, rubbing hard at the delicate little nub, getting you as wet as possible. Saying how good you look. How he must be dreaming. That’s my girl is what he says when you soak his fingers with your own arousal, heat rising to the apples of your cheeks. Even more when he's working his cock inside of you, panting, he seems overwhelmed, mumbling and groaning praises to you, his sweet girl, perfect in that slow easy voice of his. You feel him carefully easing you open, hissing at the feel of you wrapped tight on him and leaking down his shaft. You can't say much but his name, begging him not to stop, feeling his fingers almost bruise the tender softness of your hips. 

Arthur pushes so deep, a growl of pleasure leaking from his lips. You didn't think he would feel so big. Telling him how big he is and feels; “You're so big, Arthur,” in a wispy moan, makes him groan. He just wants to hear how much you like him. The rhythm he was trying to keep slow and careful speeds up. And he doesn't last very long, poor thing. It's been a while for him and he's flushed bright red, embarrassed and feeling a tad emasculated. The disappointed son of a bitch he lets out has you petting his hair back tenderly.

But all you have to do is give him a minute, kiss and nip gently, lock your legs around him so he can't pull away, until he's pushing his own seed deeper, mindlessly pinning you under his weight. He loves feeling so close to you, so small underneath him. 

The way you feel clenching down on him, moaning for him, begging him to keep going has him rutting into you, following his instincts, brain feeling like it's melting. He's harder than he has ever been, listening to the sound of your wetness slide on him, the mess he’s left between your thighs sounding dirty and sticky. You don't have to tell him to keep rubbing you, grinding your hips into his so he can press into the perfect spot. 

His thumb is rubbing at the very center of you, that tender bud, so sensitive, has you pushed to the edge and falling over, legs locking up behind him, bucking and moaning much too loud. You sink your fingers into the layer of fat over his broad muscles, arching your back, feeling so complete. Seeing you so relaxed, feeling so good because of him makes him push as deep as he can, making your toes curl, forcing more of his cum even deeper, a sloppy wet mess that drips out of you when he pulls out. But he revels in those few moments where he's catching his breath, still so deep inside of you, feeling you pulse on him. 

Arthur can’t not hold you afterwards, unsure what to say. He thinks it might be too soon for I love you, maybe you’ll be scared away by his raw sentiments and his lovesick words. But you stare into his eyes; his heart jumps when he blurts it out in the silence, too late to shut his damn mouth. But you only smile and say you love him too. You're the farthest thing from cold, tucked into his chest, not even noticing that the rain has stopped.

Thank you for reading! SO sorry this ended up being so long. Excited to write more for high honor arthur, this was more fun than i thought... I love him 😔😳

[its-avalon-08]

so seb and y/n broke up after 2011, super messy break up, alot of tears, and they have never spoken after that. she switched jobs into mercedes. he has a panic attack and is gasping for breath and keeps asking for y/n. y/n comes running and seb breaks down sobbing. note the date is the same as the day they broke up. he confesses that he messed up and is so sorry. Thanks! love ur blog <333333333333333333

🍂🍂🍂🍂 one of my fav 🍂🍂🍂🍂

breathe baby breathe (sv5)

The air in the Red Bull garage hung heavy. The tension wasn't new - ever since 2010, ever since the spectacularly messy break-up that left a trail of shattered trophies and tear-stained pit walls, Seb and Y/N existed in an uneasy parallel universe within the F1 circus. He, a stoic German with haunted blue eyes, remained with Red Bull. She, a steely Brit with a heart encased in ice, had taken a high-profile switch to Mercedes.

Qualifying had been a disaster for Seb. A gearbox issue had left him stranded on track, his championship dreams spiraling down like a flaming meteor. Now, back in the garage, a cold sweat slicked his palms. His vision swam, the faces of mechanics blurring into an incomprehensible mess. His chest tightened, a cold vice squeezing the air from his lungs. He tried to take a breath, but it came out in a ragged gasp.

Panic clawed its way up his throat. This wasn't right. This wasn't just disappointment. His heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs, each beat a deafening boom in his head. The air, thick with the smell of burnt rubber and ozone, offered no solace. He fumbled for his water bottle, the plastic slick with sweat in his trembling hand.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He stumbled back, his vision going dark at the edges. A primal fear, a terror he hadn't felt since he was a child lost in the supermarket, seized him. A strangled cry escaped his lips – not a word, just a raw sound of terror.

Mark Webber, ever the teammate, noticed Seb's distress first. "Seb! You alright?" The concern in Mark's voice barely penetrated the fog of panic muddling Seb's thoughts. He needed Y/N. It was a nonsensical thought, a desperate plea from a drowning man clutching at a straw. But it was the only lifeline he could grasp.

"Y/N," he rasped, his voice a pathetic croak. Mark's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The name had never passed Seb's lips in all these years. But right now, reason had abandoned him.

Mark didn't hesitate. He knew the history, the bitter fallout, but in this moment, all he saw was a teammate in distress. "Y/N!" he bellowed, his voice cracking through the tense silence of the garage.

Y/N was huddled in the Mercedes garage, dissecting the telemetry data from Lewis's qualifying run. The news of Seb's car trouble had filtered through, a bittersweet pang twisting in her gut. She'd long buried the ghost of their relationship, or so she thought.

Mark's urgent yell shattered her focus. "Y/N!" It echoed through the corridor, laced with a raw panic that sent a jolt through her. Memories, both bitter and sweet, flooded her mind. Ignoring the bewildered stares of her colleagues, she surged towards Red Bull's garage, a primal fear urging her forward.

The sight that greeted her ripped the carefully constructed wall around her heart clean open. Seb, usually the epitome of stoicism, was a crumpled mess on the floor. His face, drained of color, was contorted in fear, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His normally steely blue eyes were wide and frantic, searching for something, someone.

The past dissolved. This wasn't about their break-up, not anymore. This was about a human being in distress. Ignoring the initial shock, she dropped to her knees beside him, her professional training kicking in. "Seb, hey, focus on me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. He didn't respond, his gaze flitting around the room like a trapped animal.

Panic threatened to engulf her again, but she forced it down. Taking a deep breath, she mirrored it, holding his hand and speaking slowly, deliberately. "breathe baby breathe for me Seb. In with me, slow and steady." He flinched at the touch of her hand, a flicker of recognition crossing his face, then quickly masked by raw fear.

He tried, or rather, his body tried. His breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle. Seeing his plight, she knelt closer, gently pushing a stray strand of hair off his damp forehead. It was a simple gesture, born of instinct, and it seemed to anchor him.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "Slow breaths. You're alright, Seb. You're with me." As the words left her lips, a strangled sob ripped through him, shaking his entire frame. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill, but he squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate attempt to hold them back.

Y/N's heart ached. The sight of his vulnerability shattered the years of built-up resentment. Without a thought, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. His trembling body crumpled against hers, the final dam breaking. Sob after wracking sob escaped his lips, raw and unfiltered.

He didn't care if she saw. In that moment, all he needed was a human anchor, a safe harbor in the storm of his panic. And for the first time in years, Y/N felt the familiar pull of protectiveness surge through her. The past was still there, a shadow lurking at the edges, but right now, all that mattered was calming the storm raging within him.

The tremors in Seb's body gradually subsided, his sobs muffled against her shoulder. His grip on her arms tightened, a silent plea for comfort. Y/N held him close, stroking his hair with a gentleness that surprised even her. The scent of his familiar racing cologne, a mix of leather and adrenaline, flooded her senses, a potent reminder of a past she couldn't fully outrun.

"Y/N," he finally rasped, his voice hoarse. Shame laced each word, a stark contrast to the bravado he usually wore. "I miss you. So damn much." The words hung heavy in the air, a confession ripped bare by his vulnerability.

A lump formed in Y/N's throat. Part of her wanted to pull away, to retreat back into the icy fortress she'd built around her heart. But the raw pain in his voice, the vulnerability etched on his face, held her captive.

"You messed up, Seb," she said, her voice barely a whisper. It wasn't a question, but a simple statement, a truth they both acknowledged.

He flinched, a choked sob escaping his lips. "I know. I know, and I regret it every damn day. Even my parents yell about it. They keep saying I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me." His voice cracked, raw with self-loathing.

Y/N's breath hitched. She knew his parents adored her, a stark contrast to the strained relationship he had with his father at the time. The revelation stung, a reminder of what they'd lost.

A hesitant breath escaped her lips. "Seb," she started, unsure how to proceed.

He cut her off, a tremor running through his voice. "And the worst part? Even after all this time... I still love you, Y/N. Madly." He confessed the words in a rush, as if afraid to hold them back any longer.

Silence descended upon them, thick and heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, a soft, surprised sound escaped Y/N's lips.

"You still...?" She couldn't finish the question, the weight of his confession settling on her chest.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, a desperate plea for a flicker of reciprocation. "Every damn day," he whispered. "Even now, on our monthaversaries, I still go get your favorite pad thai."

The admission, a small, vulnerable detail from a past they both cherished, cracked the ice around Y/N's heart.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips, a flicker of disbelief coloring her voice. "Pad thai, huh? You never did learn to like that."

Seb chuckled, a wet, shaky sound. "No, I never did. But seeing you devour it with that look of pure joy... it was worth every forced bite." His gaze softened, lingering on her face for a beat too long.

The weight of his words, laced with a longing that mirrored her own, threatened to unravel the careful control she'd maintained. Taking a deep breath, she confessed, "You know, I used to stalk your social media, Seb. Every model the tabloids linked you with, I'd dissect their pictures online, a jealous wreck." Shame burned in her cheeks as she admitted the truth.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You... you did?"

"Don't judge," she countered, a hint of defiance lacing her voice. "We both have things we regret."

He shook his head, his expression softening. "Never. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I was a colossal idiot back then."

Y/N couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprisingly warm. "Maybe a little," she conceded. "But even after switching teams, a part of me still wants you to win every race, Seb. It's a terrible conflict of interest, I know."

He squeezed her hand, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "Really?"

"Don't get cocky," she teased, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "But seeing you on that podium, the pure joy on your face... it's hard to explain."

A comfortable silence settled between them, a stark contrast to the storm that had raged just moments before. Then, a mischievous thought struck Y/N.

"Speaking of confessions," she began, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Remember those chocolate chip cookies Mark always seems to have a stash of during race weekends?"

Seb's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of recognition dawning on his face. "Wait, you...?"

"Guilty as charged," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "I figured you still loved them, even after all these years."

Seb's lips curved into a genuine smile, the first one she'd seen in far too long. "You have no idea," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "They were... a ray of sunshine on some pretty dark days."

Their eyes met, a spark of something new igniting in the space between them. The past, with all its baggage, still loomed, but for the first time, they weren't facing it alone.

two days later

Two days had passed since their tearful encounter in the Red Bull garage. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, a constant undercurrent in the sterile environment of the Formula One paddock. Y/N sat hunched over her laptop in the Mercedes motorhome, the glow of the screen illuminating the dark circles under her eyes. Sleep had been a distant dream, replaced by the whirring of her mind replaying every stolen glance, every hesitant touch with Seb.

A soft knock startled her from her thoughts. Wiping the fatigue from her eyes, she called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, revealing a sheepish Seb holding a familiar white paper bag. His hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey," he mumbled, stepping inside hesitantly.

"Seb? What are you doing here?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with surprise.

He held up the bag, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. "Pad thai. Your favorite. I, uh, thought maybe you could use a break from all that data?"

A wave of warmth washed over Y/N. "You remembered," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the bag.

"How could I forget?" he replied, his voice softer than she'd heard in years. "It's become more than just a dish, Y/N. It's a reminder of everything we were, everything I messed up."

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes searching hers. The vulnerability in his gaze tugged at her heartstrings.

"Look," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I know this is crazy, showing up here unannounced after everything. But I can't stay silent anymore. These past few days have been torture. The thought of you... of losing you again..." He trailed off, his voice choked with emotion.

"Seb," Y/N started, her own voice trembling.

He held up a hand, silencing her. "No, let me finish. These past years have been a living hell without you. Every race win felt hollow, every victory parade a painful reminder of what I'd thrown away. My parents were right, you know. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

He took another step closer, the air crackling with unspoken emotions between them. "Y/N," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I love you. I never stopped. And if there's even a sliver of a chance, I want you back. I want to rebuild what we had, stronger this time."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, blurring his image. She couldn't take his beautiful monologue any longer. With a strangled cry, she launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. The pad thai forgotten, they fell into a desperate embrace.

"Seb," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "I love you, I love you, I love you," the words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

He held her tighter, the sound of her choked sobs a balm to his tortured soul. "Never letting you go again," he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with a promise they both desperately wanted to keep.

In the heart of the bustling Formula One paddock, amidst the roar of engines and the relentless pursuit of victory, they found solace in each other's arms. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time in years, they weren't facing it alone. They had each other, a second chance at a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger, more resilient than ever before.

[miguelhugger2099]

Omg first off LOVE!!! your wiring literally *chef’s kiss* imagine Miguel x reader suggestive smut where they’ve been both super busy and haven’t had time for each other and tension has been building up to this point.

Worth the Wait

nonie im gonna sob. not only was i so excited to see you be my first ask, this is also my first ever written smut!! aaaa im so nervous so please have mercy !! i jumped on my laptop as soon as i saw this and its so late right now haha im a little tired but i didnt want you to wait at all !! im not sure if i wrote too much or too little lol regardless i really hope you enjoy and if not i'm more than happy to make something else and thank you sososo much for the compliment <3333 the ask wasnt specified if it was fem!reader or not so i made it gn!reader just in case <3 Miguel x GN!Reader, Smut, too embarrassed to proofread it, Word Count: 3,681

“Hey, Miguel, do you think you could stay late tonight? Boss wants you in the lab for testing.” A short woman popped her head in his room, her hair neatly tucked in a high bun. Miguel stopped his pacing in his office, his glasses lifted on his head using it as a headband to pull back his fringe. He placed the beakers in his hands down and took off his gloves while ruby eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. He was supposed to leave in a couple minutes.

Miguel’s eyebrows scrunched up, tsking under his breath and turning to look at the woman. “Can’t someone else be there? Peter can oversee it instead.” He pleaded, exasperated. She gave him a sympathetic look and sighed.

“Sorry, Miguel. He specifically asked for you.” Not wanting to be the bearer of bad news anymore, she slipped out the door and shut it behind her, leaving Miguel to groan and slump his shoulders. He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, breathing in and out to calm his anger. It seemed like these days all he ever did was overtime at work. He fiddled with the golden band around his left ring finger, his other hand twirling it mindlessly for some comfort and also a silent apology to you.

His heart ached as he made his way to his desk, picking up his phone and dialing your number. He licked his lips while he brought the phone up to his ear. Miguel wasn’t prepared to hear your voice, happy and hopeful and only be met with disappointment.

“Miggy?” You answer happily. A small smile forms on Miguel’s face.

“H-hey, baby. You doing alright?” He asked, taking a seat on his swivel chair and leaning back to stare at the photo of you two on his desktop.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m finishing up dinner. Are you on your way home?”

Miguel’s smile dropped a bit, realizing once more why he had called in the first place. “Um, about that, mi corazón. I have to–”

“You have to stay the night, don’t you?” You cut him off, disappointment evident in your voice. Miguel’s heart clenched at the sound.

“I…I do. Believe me, I don’t have a choice or I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m not mad or anything. This month has been hectic for both of us. I just… I just miss you is all.” You speak softly over the phone. He missed you more. He wanted to be there.

“Lo siento, bebé. You know how much I hate being away from you.” He apologized. “How about tomorrow, huh? I have off. We can go out and get a drink. Or maybe stay home? I know how much you love my cooking.” He offered, his heart beating faster at the thought of spending time with you again. That feeling sank when he heard you let out a quick puff of air in annoyance.

“I can’t. I’m working this weekend. Six days in a row,” You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. Your job always had a way of pushing your buttons. Miguel’s jaw clenched as he heard you. Miguel never really liked this recent event of work taking up his time from seeing you. He hated it even more when your job took you away from him. “God, I really thought we’d have tonight together at least.”

Miguel was quick to reassure you. “Hey, hey. Listen. We’ll have a day together. Eventually there’ll be a day for just us–all about us, I promise.”

When Miguel had arrived home, it could barely be even classified as night time with the way the sun had been peeking through the horizon. He dragged his body through the door, a cold home awaiting him. After kicking off his shoes, he dumped his coat and bag on the floor and made his way to the kitchen, eating the leftovers of the dinner you two were supposed to eat together before trudging back to bed. He saw you lying there on your side and he felt exhaustion drag him down.

Miguel slipped in under the covers beside you after striping himself of his clothes, leaving him in his underwear and slipped his arm around you. He pressed your body flushed against his, Miguel’s larger body enveloping yours protectively. His nose buried itself in your neck, his lips grazing your shoulder. His hand rubbed your stomach and then slid up to rub up and down your waist. Sneakily, he ran his hand under your shirt while his lips left small kisses on your neck and shoulder. You stirred awake as you felt the sudden touch of someone else.

Miguel felt you move so he pulled you tighter to him, keeping you caged in that position. “Mig…?” You called out sleepily. You felt something poke you from behind and groaned. Miguel continued to kiss your neck, his teeth coming out to gently nip at the skin making you shiver. He simply hummed his response.

“‘M home.” He murmured. He slowly turned you on your back, towering over you slightly with your leg between his. Miguel’s arm rested by your head while his attacks became more intimate. You leaned your head back, allowing him more access and his other hand on your hip squeezed you in appreciation. You bent your leg up on the bed slightly, your knee caressing his growing bulge in his boxers. Miguel let out a low groan, his hips grinding on you for some friction.

Your hands finally reached up to his hair, curling your fingers around his soft wavy brown locks. Miguel took this as an opportunity to capture your lips with his, muting the soft moans you were letting out. His own knee spread your legs apart, rubbing in between them to add to your pleasure. You felt a jolt of pleasure run down your spine, bucking your hips up instinctively. Miguel sighed against you, his hand on that had been gripping your hip, moved down to the hem of your pajama pants. He teasingly pulled it down, letting it snap back to your body and making you whine. You felt him grin through your kiss. Cheeky bastard.

Before he could ease his hand down your pants, your alarm had blared through the room, shocking the both of you and separating yourselves off each other. Miguel scowled while you clambered up to grab your phone. “The hell was that?” He grunted, displeased with being interrupted. You fumbled with turning it off, placing a hand on your chest to calm your fast beating heart.

“My alarm. I have a morning shift.” You moaned, tossing your phone back on the counter and standing up from the bed. Miguel blinked twice before getting up with you. He reached out his hand to grab yours in an attempt to stop you.

“Woah, woah, hey–what’s the rush?” He asked, turning you around and cupping your cheek. “We can at least have these couple minutes, can’t we?” His voice dropped an octave, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek. Miguel tried to kiss downwards but you stopped him, albeit unwillingly.

“Amor, you know damn well how Nueva York’s traffic is in the morning. I’m not gonna be late and get my ass in trouble ‘cause you can’t keep it in your pants.” You slipped from his arms with a playful roll of your eyes and walked to the kitchen. Miguel scoffed, slightly offended, his eyes watching you walk away and looking down at your ass.

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it.” He grumbled, looking down at the tent in his boxers wondering what to do with it now.

For the next week, it had been nothing but just pure torture. With the month making you and Miguel work away from each other, this week was stretching that limit. When Miguel worked in the morning, you’d work at night and vice versa. Each time without fail, you managed to slip in a few teasing touches. Waking up Miguel by sitting on his lap and peppering kisses on his cheeks with his hands grinding your hips down on his hardening cock. Miguel cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze when you came home from work while he was on his way out. Both of you were on the brink of breaking by this point. These small acts were supposed to tame the fire within you, not burn it brighter.

Eventually, it was finally your day off after a long weekend. A break from customer service and passing out as soon as you got home. Miguel had work today but he texted earlier that he’d get off on the hour he was supposed to this time around. You felt bad. He’d been working so hard and today had been no different. He took a shift earlier than usual so he could come home earlier without anyone being there to suddenly ask for him to stay. Lord knows he’s pushing those forty hours into overtime.

From the bedroom, you heard the door open, keys jingling as it was turned to unlock it. You got up from the bed and peered out the door, seeing Miguel kicking off his shoes and coat while tossing his bag carelessly on the living room chair. “Welcome home.” You greeted him. He dragged his feet closer to you with his head down, the top buttons on his white button up were popped open, exposing a glimpse of his collarbone. Miguel immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug. You followed suit, hugging him back since you sensed he probably had a rough day. He hummed in response, settling for resting his chin on your head. You stayed like that for a while just holding one another until you felt his hand run under your shirt to feel your soft skin against his calloused hands. They continued up and up your spine until your shirt was lifting up with him. “Miguel.”

“What?” He grumbled. One hand slid down under your pants, getting a quick feel of your ass and pulling your pelvis to him. You gasped and tightened your hold around him, feeling the warmth of arousal ignite in your stomach. “I need to have you. I can’t wait any longer.” His soft touching became more possessive, roughly grabbing your ass and tugging on your shirt and pants.

“Miguel.” You repeated his name, this time in a whimper. Your own hands slipped down his collared shirt and lightly scratched your nails on his large back which made him shiver. He pulled back and you saw his eyes hazed with desire, pupils blown wide.

“Please…” He whispered, his lips brushing up against yours. Your hands fell to his buttoned shirt as you looked up at him. Your heart raced in your chest–the sheer want of having you all to himself finally after weeks was too good to pass up. You nodded and the pleading look on Miguel’s face dropped as he immediately bent down to kiss you. You let out a squeak of surprise between his lips right before giving into his needs and kissing him back.

He tugged your pants down to your ankles before lifting you out of the puddle of clothes and bringing you to the bed. Once you were laid on top, you watched Miguel fumble with his belt. His large hands quickly unhooked the metal making it chime and the soft zipping sound of the leather sliding out his belt loops. He practically ripped himself free from his clothes, not even unbuttoning his shirt and just lifted it up and off his torso. You saw his girthy length, standing tall and proud with a slight red color tinged at his tip while the rest of him was a slighter darker color than his skin. His tip was already oozing with precum. A sight you had always welcomed. It became clear to you that Miguel had been thinking about this for a while–maybe all day. Miguel crawled on top of you, helping you out of your shirt and underwear and kissing you again while his hands roamed your body.

“I’ve waited so long. Did you miss me like how I missed you, cariño?” He sighed between your lips. Your hands clutched his shoulders, one leg hooking around his waist.

“Always.” You whimpered back.

“On your knees. Now.” He growled. You felt your heart skip a beat, another heartbeat going straight to your core. Stumbling, you got off your back and got on your hands and knees like Miguel wanted. This position has always made you flustered. It was both embarrassing and exhilarating not seeing what Miguel could do to you, or even get to put your hands on him–solely relying on feeling.

Perfect timing, his hands met your ass, grabbing them and massaging them. “So perfect,” He murmured. His finger grazed your aching hole where you were the most sensitive, purposefully teasing the nerves on your body. He took pleasure in the way you writhed beneath him, succumbing to his hand. His thick cock rubbed up against you, smearing his leaking fluid on you for even better access. Then ever so slowly, gliding in his fat weeping tip inside and penetrating your walls.

You both moaned in unison. The feeling of being stuffed was like finally feeling that last puzzle piece snap in place. “Uff, fuck–I’ve missed you,” He groaned, his breath shaking as he leaned over your body. His one hand held the headboard in front of him while his other hand held the plushness of your hip tightly. Miguel’s body was shaking as he entered you slowly, stretching you out after a long time of not seeing each other like this. You whimpered, falling from your hands onto your elbows as you shook with him. “Ease up, cariño, así es.” He praised, leaning back to watch his cock disappear inside you. His pride swelled at how easily he seemed to slide in you even after so long, his mouth curling into a sly smirk.

“Mi–guel…” You choked out a moan. You whined and gripped the pillow underneath your head tightly in your fists. You had forgotten just how huge Miguel was, his covered bulge was nothing compared to the real thing. Panting, you heard your heartbeat in your ears, turning your head to rest your cheek on the pillow.

Miguel’s hand left the headboard by this point, choosing instead to rest on your back, running down the curve of your spine to press your head down. You whimpered and clenched around him which made him let out a string of curses under his breath. You felt him push himself to the hilt, his balls gently smacking against the curve of your ass. He groaned, his hand on your head gripped your hair to still himself from pounding you immediately. The two of you stood there, breathing heavily while you felt each other. You could feel him throbbing inside you, twitching ever so softly. Miguel bit his lip to hinder himself from cumming on the spot with your walls convulsing around him, weakly attempting to suck him in deeper.

You wiggled your hips, bucking them back against Miguel with a pathetic whine. “M-move…plea–” You got cut off when Miguel slipped out of you, and then he slammed back inside making you scream and shake. He then began a steady pace, enough for movement but not as quick as you wanted. Still, you mewled and clutched at the sheets while his cock was ravaging your guts. The hand on your hip wrapped around your lower stomach, his bicep flexing as he held your weight up to fuck your from behind.

“Too long. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve fucked this needy hole properly.” Miguel sighed, huffing with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes rolled back and your jaw slacked open. Skin slapping echoed in the room along with the wet smack of sweat between your bodies. It was a symphony of lust and desire. An aching instinct to be reunited like this. You pleaded for more–a little quicker, a little harder– and Miguel who loved you so much didn’t want to deny either of you this ecstasy. He then used both hands to grab onto your hips and started to drag your body back and forth on his dick, drilling himself in you like a toy. Miguel used up all his frustrations of not being able to see you all this time, his eyes drinking in your writhing form while he bucked into you abandonly.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck–Miguel…!” You squealed, involuntarily squeezing him which made me grunt and buck his hips faster. You babbled nonsense while your core bubbled up the feeling of an orgasm. You screwed your eyes shut as you allowed Miguel to hump against you. He leaned over you again, pressing kisses on your back, murmuring things you could barely hear over the sound of your own moans.

Suddenly, Miguel had pulled out again leaving you feeling empty and light headed while the feeling of an impending orgasm disappeared. He let go of you, your hips bouncing on the bed without the support of his strength holding you up. You opened up your eyes, glazed with pleasure and shakily tried to look behind you. Before you could, Miguel took your body and flipped you on your back. It all happened quickly before you could even register what was happening. He took your legs and tugged your body closer to him like a ragdoll. He spread them wide then pressed them up against your chest. You lolled your head up and you saw his fringe had fallen to his forehead, sticking to it with his sweat. His chest was heaving up and down, the glow of the moonlight highlighting the carvings of his muscles perfectly–it made your breath hitch.

Miguel then loomed over you, nuzzling his head into your neck again. You leaned your head to the side making him gain more access to you. His teeth bit your soft flesh, his lips suckling your skin to leave tiny bruises along the side. “Ah–” You squirmed and gasped when you felt Miguel slide back into you again. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, your hand running through his already messy hair. You pressed his head closer, your eyes opening up hazily to stare at the ceiling while Miguel starts his pace again.

“So tight, just f’me, hm? You have no idea how much–” He moaned in between speaking, the lust clouding his mind. “H-how much I needed you. I should’ve just brought you to work, bend you over my desk and fuck you however long I want,” He shuddered at the thought, his hips stuttering while you whimpered and arched your back off the bed. “Oh, you like that?” He grinned, his voice oozing with arrogance. You nodded, your eyes shutting closed again and desperately lifting your hips to match his thrusting.

“Next time, bebé, next time. I promise. You’re doing so, so, good. You feel so good.” He slurred softly, his hips snapped harder, his cock twitching and swelling inside you.

“Mig–Mig–I can’t,” You moaned, your screams getting louder the harder Miguel went. “Oh, god, Miguel!” Miguel kissed you, swallowing all your moans while he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back and your legs wrapped around his waist the moment he let go of your thighs. His hands traveled around your body, feeling the shape of your silhouette back into his memory. He grabbed at anything he could hold onto before curling around your ass for a small squeeze.

He pulled away from the kiss, breaths mingling for a moment until Miguel rested his forehead on your shoulder. Your hands raked down his back and you dug your nails into his giant back, leaving streaks of red in their wake from scratching him. He moaned from it–the pain only adding to his pleasure-fueled mind. Miguel peppered kisses on your shoulder, making his way down to your chest.

“Miguel, I’m so close–so, so close…” You whimpered.

“I know, ángel, me… me too. Solo enfocate en mí, hm? Just let me have you.” He pleaded, his rough moans turning into whimpering as he neared his end. You responded with a weak ‘uh-huh’ then clinging onto Miguel for support.

He murmured in a jumble of Spanish and English, his breath hot on your neck while you screamed and pleaded for more, how good it felt, anything to get both of you going. Miguel lifted your lower half up, relentlessly pounding into you while he cursed lowly, burying his head in your shoulder again. You felt the bubble in your abdomen about to snap.

“Miguel, I–!” You tried warning him but instead the waves of your orgasm flooded your body, cumming on Miguel and making a mess between your legs. You twitched around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth. Your legs shook until you went limp, fucked out of your mind. Miguel whined, speeding up to catch his own release.

“Fuck–!” He moaned, feeling his cock pump out his creamy fat load inside you, painting your walls white. Miguel’s entire body tensed up, stilling up against you while he slowly came down from the high. His strokes gradually slowed down, pumping the final ropes of cum, while he softened inside you, huffing and puffing with you. He shakily but carefully pulled out of you after a few moments. You whimpered when he completely left you with a soft wet shlick.

Miguel fell beside you, exhausted and spent. Still, he reached for you, bringing your shivering body in his arms. You curled yourself in his chest weakly, feeling his hand play with your hair. He kissed your forehead, basking in each other's afterglow. He brought the covers up over you two for some extra warmth.

“I’ll…get us cleaned up in the morning…” He huffed with a tired smile. You grunted in response, too numb to speak but satisfied nonetheless.

can you tell this is my first smut? hahaaaa dontanswerthatillcry

[mikobeautifulheart]

hey sweetie!! its meee again!! (the one who requested the drunk megumi fic lmaoo)

ummm can you do megumi again??

so basically after a super tiring day, the reader and Megumi decided to chill in megumi's room. they get cozy and then they get intimate…. (no smut please!, JUST A STEAMY HOT MAKE OUT SESSION like before (with tongue [this is embarrassing now…]) AARRGHH!!.. and can you like, drag the make out session?? i mean, make it longer.) ummmmm then, gojo happens to pass by his room. he hears noises 👀👀(of smooches ofc)… he dramatically sighs like a proud dad considering how much megumi has grown and changed over time. (since he raised him). he then teleports into his room and takes a photo of them without them knowing(??) (idk the photo part, write whatever feels good!) he then teases megumi about it!!

and ofc do it only if it feels comfy for you!!

thanks a lot in advance!!!!!!!! <3333333333

Tehehe I almost jumped when I saw ur request anon, ASK AND YOU SHALL RECIVE.

Megumi and you getting caught up in the moment.

(And on Gojos phone)

TW: THERE WILL BE A MAKEOUT SESSION BUT NOT SMUT. and probably second hand embarrassment.

Maybe 800-900 wordsssish

UNNNNNNNEDDDITEDDD

You went over to Megumis dorm after training to study for your up coming tests. Why do you even have tests anyway your a sorcerer. Whatever any excuse is good enough of you get to hang with Megumi. You guys did actually study for a bit until the sun went down. That's when Megumi started to wrap things up. Even though it had been a few hours you were still hot and bothered from training, and Megumi knew that.

"My shower room is next to my bed room if you want to clean up." He said as he got up to put his study matierials back on his shelf. The best thing out having a small amount of students at Jujutsu High is how good the dorms get.

"If you don't mind."You said going to walk to the room. You paused

"Uh maybe not I didn't bring any clothes and my dorm is across campus..." You mumbled

"You can borrow some of mine" Megumi said hearing everything.

"Oh thanks" you said. Just thinking about being in his clothes makes you heat up.

You opened the bathroom door, spotless, as expected of Megumi. You suddenly felt him behind you making you turn around only to look right up at him.

"Sorry...but here the clothes" he said handing you a shirt and pants.

"Towels are in the corner over there" he mumbled before walking away.

"Thank you" you said going into the room and closing the door behind you.

What was he doing? He knew he wasn't supposed to have anyone in his dorm after 9:00 pm, let alone you. If he gets caught he would be doomed. He flung himself onto his bed, face in pillow and sighing loudly. The tips of his ears were red. He knows he's breaking the rules but...you...you were in his bathroom right now and you'll step out wearing HIS clothes. The image in his mind makes him groan. What was he going to do? You definitely weren't going back to your dorm, not that he wanted you to. And even if you tried to then you would get caught and he would just feel guilty.

Megumi would be lying if he said he never wanted this. He just hoped you did to. Just as he almost suffocated himself in his pillow he heard the bathroom door open. Footsteps filled his mind as you finally came into his view. He sat up and looked at you speechless. The way his clothes nearly slowed you whole made his heart explode. You rubbed the towel against your hair trying to get it as dry as possible before you set the towel aside and joined him on his bed.

There was an akward silence as it was taking everything in Megumi to keep his composure.

"Have you ever had a crush on anyone before Megumi" you asked out of the blue.

It obviously caught him off guard as he moved over to the other side of his bed to give you more space.

"Well...yeah I guess." He said rubbing the back of his neck starting straight at the wall infront of him. He could feel your eyes on him.

"What dose it feel like? Because I think I like someone right now." You said cheek flushed pink. You were nervous. You've been crushing on megimi for a while now but you didn't know how to take it out of the 'friend zone' so you figured that you should just go for it.

"Well it's like your having a heart attack." He starts.

"Then it makes you feel like you want to gently play with their hair" He says reaching out and taking a strand of your hair in-between his fingers.

"And then it makes you feel all hot and embarrassed but it dosent really matter when their so pretty."

You blush harded meeting Megumis gaze and refusing to look away.

"But when you reay like someone, it's love. And love makes you want to do this." He said hand letting go of your hair only to go behind your head and pull you into his lips.

You kiss. You kissed?

He pulled away for a moment letting out a hot breath.

"And it makes you tell them how much you need them and how you would die with out them."

He gose back into the kiss, but this time he slowly put his other arm around your back and lowered you gently onto the bed as the kiss deepened.

You part for a second and said

"Megumi I've never done this before, but I think I like it and I like you"

"I think I like you to" he said

He kissed you again but on your neck, making you groan.

Meanwhile when you guys were at the hight of your night a white haired menace walked by. He has 6 eyes there's nothing you can keep from him, that's why he was disappointed in Megumi because he thought he would have known that by now.

He decided to give Megumi a pass thinking it was iust Him and Yuji haning out until he heard a higher pitched groan. He opened the door slightly and looked into the room to see MEGUMI??? ON TOP OF Y/N???? A thousand thoughts went through his mind. Is he a womaniser? Is that the only thing Megumi learned while he was raised by Gojo? But he's only a kid! So are you...But your not kids anymore...but THATS HIS SON! And he was proud? A grin spread across his face as he closed the door and teleported beside Megumis book shelf, that was facing away from you guys.

"Y/N... I...I need you" Megumi said

"Megumi-" you said, your lips parting perfectly, almost irresistibly. So he went in again, this time he slipped his toung in making you gasp.

Gojo was mortified on one hand, he raised his son well, on the other hand he didn't know if Megumi should even be doing this... Eventually he settled on the 'do now consequence later' method. Before he left he snapped a picture and quickly teleported away.

"Hm. What's wrong Megumi?" You asked as he pulled away and looked around his room.

"It was nothing, I just thought I heard something" He said before going back down.

AUTHOURS NOTE: Thank youieee for the request my most loyal anon and I hope this time I did better (Romance wise) i mean be honest with me, I want to write what you people actually want so your going to have to be honest. Anyways im going to sleep now Gn. and thanks for reading.

You guys were heating up so much that the window started to gain condensation. Megumi deepened the kiss even more taking your breath away. You to were impossibly close together but craved to be closer. You put your arms up and wrapped them around Megumis neck making him go deeper into the kiss again.

One of your hands couldn't help but wander into his hair, playing with it while being high off love. He trailed kisses down your neck leaving a hicky here and there, tounge swiping over each one giving you chills.

"Megumiii~ " you groaned voice sounding like heaven to him.

"Mmm" He said in-between his bites

"What if someone sees them?" You say.

Honestly he could careless about who ever saw them, right now he only wanted you.

"Let them." He said before lifting is face above yours.

" I don't care who sees. Do you?" He asked

You shook your head as a 'not before he smirked and crashed into your lips again.

The next day after traning Gojo took Mefumi aside to talk.

"Look son-im so proud of you, you've grown so much from the mini Megumi I knew" Gojo said pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye

"Son?"

"Yeah, well word of advice form an expert, I get you'll die without her but you gotta be quieter and don't have your make out sessions when IM on night watch at YOUR dorms okay?"

"What the hell are you talking abou-"

Gojo pulls up the picture of Megumis face hovering above yours.

"YOU CREEP WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY DORM" He yelled trying to take the phone off Gojo.

"MORE LIKE WHAT WAS SHE DOING IN YOUR DORM!"

"DELET THAT!" Megumi yelled

"No, It's going in your photo album" Gojo said turning on his infinity so Megumi was no match.

"And maybe for her birthday you should get her a scarf to cover those 'bed bug bites'"

"SHUT UP YOU PERVET, IM CALLING C.P.C ON YOU!"

Across the field you saw Megumi yelling at Gojo, throwing things at his infinity when Yuji suddenly snapped you out of your distraction.

"Hey Y/N maybe you should get a new Marree, those bed bug bites on your neck look really bad." He said out of genuine concern.

"Uh YEAH ILL DO THAT" you squeaked turning read and pulling your collar up to hide the red marks on your neck.

"You and Fushiguro sure got the bed bugs bad" Nobora smirked looking at you knowing that no way in hell was that a bed bugs work.

THANKS FOR READING ♡

[moraxine]

Inevitable [Gojo Satoru]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

words: 1.3k

summary: you and satoru fall for the oldest trick in the book.

It’s a typical morning at Jujutsu High, the sun casting its warm hues across the campus as students roam the premises, training or studying. Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji are together, heads pressed close as they discuss their latest idea—Operation: Set Up Gojo and y/n.

"You guys know they totally like each other, right?" Nobara says, arms crossed. "I mean, come on, it's obvious. They keep sneaking glances at each other, the tension is unreal."

Megumi raises an eyebrow. "If it's so obvious, why haven’t they done anything about it?"

"Because they're both hopeless," Yuji chimes in with a grin. "Especially y/n-sensei. She's so shy when it comes to Gojo-sensei."

Nobara leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Exactly. And that’s where we come in. We need to give them a little... push. Maybe force them to confront their feelings, you know?”

Megumi sighs, accepting the fact that he has to take part in his friends’ stupidly mischievous schemes once again. “What are you thinking?

"Simple," she replies, cracking her knuckles. "We lock them up somewhere and just let the magic happen."

Later on the same day, you’ve just finished grading papers, ready to leave your office, when you receive a text from Yuji.

Hey, y/n sensei! Could you meet me in the old storage room near the gym? I really need your help with something super important!

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Other than the fact that this text is free of spelling mistakes, the request itself is quite strange. However, since your relationship with your students has been nothing but great, you put trust in them—as much as an adult can, anyway—and Yuji is no exception.

Thus, you grab your coat and make your way to the storage room. Truth be told, it’s rarely used and a bit dusty, which raises a lot of questions in your head as to why Yuji would need you there, but then you remember that it’s also tucked away enough for privacy. As you approach, you notice the door slightly ajar.

"Yuji?" you call out as you step inside.

No longer than ten seconds after you’re in, the door slams shut behind you, making you jump in terror. You whirl around, heart racing. Your hand reaches for the handle but the desperate attempt is futile.

What the actual fu-

“Oh, it’s just you.”

A helpless scream leaves your throat as you turn all the other way around and find yourself staring at the one and only Satoru Gojo, the man who’s been occupying way too much space in your thoughts lately.

Gojo seems composed when he offers you his signature smirk, leaning casually against the wall, his blindfold pulled up so his mesmerising blue eyes are visible. "I was expecting a student ambush or something."

"Yeah, well... same here, kinda,” you mutter, as you try to control your breathing. After a few moments, reality hits and your cheeks heat up as you realise you’re completely alone with him in a—not so very comfortable—space. "Did they trick you into coming here too?"

He nods. "I got a text from Megumi saying something about needing immediate help. Guess we're both suckers."

You cross your arms and sigh, slightly relieved that at least you aren’t a victim of some really serious prank. You glance at the door one last time. "Well, it's locked now, so I guess we're stuck."

There is an awkward silence for a few moments. The tension between you two has always been evident, but neither of you ever made a move to address it. You often find yourself stammering around Gojo, unable to handle the teasing words or the way his eyes linger on you a little too long sometimes.

Gojo, on the other hand, despite his confident front, is surprisingly shy when it comes to you. Sure, he makes his usual sarcastic comments and tries to act like all is fine, but deep down, he’s always been afraid of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you.

"So,” you start, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, “you think this is some kind of setup?"

He chuckles, walking closer to you. "Oh, absolutely. Our adorable students are trying to play matchmaker. I should’ve known when I saw Yuji smiling like a fool earlier."

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore how close he’s standing now. "Well, it's not going to work. We’re professionals."

"Sure, because professionals definitely get trapped in storage rooms," Gojo quips, flashing you a grin. "Besides, I think they just wanted to speed up the inevitable."

You blink, feeling your pulse quicken. "Inevitable?"

Acting dumb won’t slow down that inevitable, either.

"You know," he replies with a nonchalant shrug. "Us."

You narrow your eyes, though your heart is now undoubtedly hammering in your chest. "You have a lot of nerve assuming there's an 'us,' Satoru."

He raises an eyebrow, stepping even closer, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Please, y/n, I've seen the way you look at me. You're totally into me."

Your mouth drops open, a mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbling up. Sure, he’s absolutely right, you’re head over heels for your handsome and charismatic coworker, but hell, he makes it sound one-sided when that’s so far from the truth.

“Excuse me? You’re the one who’s always staring at me during meetings. It’s creepy."

"Oh, so you notice me staring," he teases, his grin widening. "Admit it, you like it."

"I do not!" you huff in honest annoyance, cheeks burning. "And even if I did, why would I ever admit it to you? Your ego is already big enough to take up the whole room."

Gojo dramatically places a hand over his heart. "Ouch. You wound me, darling. Here I was, thinking we had a good thing going."

You cross your arms and shoot him a glare. "Yeah, well, you're delusional."

Denial will get you nowhere, you’re well aware, but the fact that Gojo is so cocky about it flips a switch inside you which makes consider whether your should jump him or jump him.

He chuckles as he leans in slightly, his face only inches from yours now. "Am I? Or are you just too shy to admit you like me?"

You swallow hard, refusing to back down. "Like you? Please, you're insufferable."

"Insufferable, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "Then why haven't you moved away yet?"

Fair point.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Yes, you could have backed up, put some distance between you two, but instead, you’re just rooted in place, caught in the intensity of his gaze. Gojo’s smirk softens.

"You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"

You scoff, though it comes out weaker than intended. "And you're annoying, as always."

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Maybe, but you like me anyway."

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can form any sort of response, his lips are on yours, cutting you off with a sudden kiss. For a moment, you freeze in shock, but then, instinct takes over, and you kiss him back. His lips are sweet, soft, and despite the teasing and the banter, the kiss is gentle, almost tender. Gojo's hand embraces your waist and slowly pulls you in, while the other rests on your face, and you can’t help but melt under his touch.

When you finally pull away, both of you are slightly breathless, and his usual cocky grin is replaced with a softer smile.

"See?" he whispers. "Told you it was inevitable."

“You're still insufferable."

"As if it doesn’t turn you on," he teases, leaning in for another kiss.

Outside the storage room, Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi exchange their triumphant high-fives.

"Mission accomplished," Nobara whispers.

Yuji nods. “Nicely done, Kugusaki."

Megumi shrugs his shoulders, glad that the whole thing is finally over.

You fell for the oldest trick in the book.

[azsazz]

What's Mine

Rhysand x Eris x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hear me out: alphas are super possessive anyway, but imagine high lord/future high lord - way more protective right? Especially in a scenario where there’s other ‘big bad alphas’ around e.g. other high lords at a ball, or at the court of nightmares

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, smut, Rhys using his daemati powers, fireplay maybe.

Word Count: 6,337

Notes: IS ERRHYS MY NEW FAVORITE THING? This is prob the best smut I've written tbh i'm obsessed with these two.

_________________________________________

The ballroom is spinning as you make your way towards the nearest wall. You’re sweating, body hot as you retreat, and it’s not the faewine or the dancing that has you feeling this way, you know it.

You stumble on the sweeping tail of your dress, tugging at the high collar of it as you go because it’s suffocating you and you don’t know why.

People are giving you weird looks.

You slump against the wall, knees locking as you try to stay upright. You don’t know what’s happening, your mind swirling as the intoxicating scents of alphas, betas, and bonded omegas throughout the ballroom  sharpen, and your cunt throbs when you pick up the hint of the Night Court patrons within the mass of fae.

An unbonded omega will always be invited to a High Lord’s ball like this, especially one of Beron Vanserra’s parties, a feeding ground for worthy alphas to lay claim to their submissive species. 

You’d begged Rhysand to come. As another set of eyes, you’d offered to protect the omegas who were being forced into bonds they didn’t want. It was the only reason Rhysand attended these things, though you weren’t entirely sure why the unbonded alpha High Lord of your court never took one of the preening omegas home.

Probably because some of them were spies.

As a beta, you didn’t have to worry about ruts or heats, letting lust and the urge to be bred make your choices for you. You were free to fuck who you pleased and lived how you wanted, the unlucky female of Rhysand’s Inner Circle who never presented as either of the desirable genus’.

So you don’t have an inkling of understanding of what’s going on. Someone would have had to poison your drink if you’re feeling this way, which isn’t entirely off of the table of possibilities. Being a member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle meant that you were an asset to him and a threat to everyone else.

“Shit,” you groan, clenching your legs together. But why would it be a poison that’s making lust burn your senses into a fiery oblivion. Why do you feel the need to follow the strong scents within the room and jump onto the cock of the nearest delicious smelling one?

You’re trying to clear your mind, focus on one thought at a time but it’s draining. It takes more effort that you’d like, you’d always prided yourself for your quick mind and battle solutions. But the only battle happening right now is the war within your body, fighting for something to exude the swelling pressure between your thighs.

You blink harshly, once, twice, as someone approaches. Their height covers the bright faelights that have been stinging your eyes and making your swirling head pound, and their scent nearly brings you to your knees and have you whimpering like a pup.

Eris Vanserra, eldest alpha of his siblings, stands before you, curiosity gleaming in those caramelized eyes of his.

He leans forward, and you feel the sharp tips of his teeth as he drags them over your covered throat. The sound of him lapping up your scent makes the hair at the nape of your neck stand. You hunch lower, sweat beading at your brow as you desperately try to make eye contact with anyone else in the crowded ballroom, but Eris’ shoulders are too wide, blocking your view.

“Ah, little omega,” he drawls, the silken taunt of his voice is a low rumble, all alpha. Your thighs clench together as instinct tries to take over and your heart pounds in your chest. You shouldn’t be this much of a mess beneath his caramel gaze, pupils so wide you can nearly see into the depths of his soul. “You shouldn’t have come here all alone–”

His words catch up to you through the haze of your mind, cutting through the clouds like a lightning strike. Your brows pull tight into a furrow as your hands slap against his chest, trying to shove him off to take a gasp of air. The room is much too hot and your dress sticks to your skin in the most uncomfortable way.

“I’m not! I’m just a beta,” you plead to the lordling. He’s all but touching you right now, caging you in with his hands pressed firmly to the wall on either side of your head. Eris falters for a moment, but then his eyes narrow and he’s scenting your neck again to be sure. 

You’re overwhelmed by his proximity and the palms you’ve laid flat against his chest curl into fists, his finely pressed emerald shirt crumpling in your fingers as the heady scent of firewood and bourbon rushes your senses. It takes all of your self control not to pull his body into yours, not to let the cocky alpha heir slide his knee up against your dress-covered cunt so you can grind down on him like your body wants. Your arms shake with the effort to keep him at bay, both his and your own self control quickly dwindling. No. You need to find Rhys or Azriel or Cassian, someone from your own court who will know how to help you because this…this is not how betas are supposed to act.

“Don’t lie to me,” Eris hisses, pulling away slightly, just enough for you to catch the swirling black mass of darkness forming over his back. Your shoulders relax slightly, but Eris doesn’t take notice, too enthralled by the scent of your hormones spilling off of your body. “I know you want my knot, little omega, that you need it like the bitch in heat you are…”

Rhysand’s hand clamps down on the Autumn heir’s shoulder, sharp talons of onyx piercing the expensive shirt. The sharp twinge of blood has you drooling. If only it were up a few more inches, right on his throat and made by your teeth. The High Lord of darkness all but roars at the rivaling alpha. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

Eris doesn’t like being told what to do. He is an immovable force as Rhys squeezes with warning, pristine, red blood staining the dark fabric. Eris snarls and shoves off Rhys’ grip, lips curled in disgust from the way the Night Court swill has mottled his fine silks.

“I’ll touch whomever I please,” Eris spits, turning that heated gaze on you once more. His eyes are lit with not only the throes of lust, but anger as well. “Especially an unbound omega who wants my knot.”

Rhys falters at the lordling's words, smoldering violet gaze flicking to your pleading one. You see his lips part in response and the moment he catches a whiff of your new scent, pupils tightening to pins before blowing wide with darkness, shadows crawling up his skin.

“She’s mine,” Rhysand growls so low it makes the floor beneath you rumble. The sensation crawls up your legs and straight to your cunt. You clench your thighs together and keen softly, unable to control yourself.

You even almost bare your neck to him.

“She’s not,” Eris answers, flicking a dismissive hand in Rhys’ direction, attention fully on you.

“She will be,” Rhys fights, sidling up to your side. His arm brushes yours and you almost crumple in your spot, body screaming in response to the two hot-headed, unbonded alphas fighting to be the one to see you through your heat.

Eris seems more than pleased to taunt your High Lord. “And what if I were to claim her right now?” he drawls, stroking a flaming finger down your neck. You have to bite back the whimper threatening to slip from your mouth at his delicate touch. Damn your omega senses right now, you can’t be trusted with yourself because of how badly you need his knot. “I could just lean over and mark her right here…”

“Then I’ll kill you and fill this fucking court with so much darkness that you suffocate,” Rhys snarls, his tone predatory. It makes the alpha caging you in go stiff, muscles rippling in response to the threat. Let him go, and I will get you out of here, Rhys tacks on, slipping easily through your weakened mental shields.

I can’t, you cry in response. Your knuckles are white with the effort you’re using to hold onto Eris. If you let go, surely your knees will give out and you like the way that his body is up against yours, how his threatening words make your skin dance with pleasure. He’s protecting you.

You chance a peek up at the towering alpha and it's the biggest mistake you can make right now. His amber eyes are bright with fire, the ring around his pupil gleaming hot white. It makes you shrink lower in response, your body submitting to the male before you. Eris grins sharply.

“Are you threatening the future High Lord of Autumn?” he taunts. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flick a glance to the brewing King of Night at your side. It infuriates Rhysand even more.

“No,” Rhysand responds easily, his fingers twitching to unwind yours from Eris’ shirt to take into his own. He wants you clinging to him like that, and by the Mother will he do absolutely anything necessary to take you home. “I’m threatening the fucking prick who’s trying to take what’s mine.”

Rhysand hadn’t ever told you, but you’d always caught his eye, since Cassian had introduced you to him centuries ago. But as a High Lord and an alpha, he hadn’t ever made a move, needing to find an omega to bear an heir. Old rules created before his own time. But now that you’re clearly an omega, and one in desperate need of an alpha's knot…the beast raging inside of him is moments from breaking free and claiming you for his own.

He will spill Eris’ blood in your honor. To prove to you that he is a male worthy of your time, deserving of the spot to knot you and see you through your first heat.

“And what does the little omega want?” Eris asks, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. Rhysand watches with dark eyes. You’re sure that you look a mess right now, damp with sweat, your legs shaking as they try to keep you on your feet. Your fists are still twisted in Eris’ shirt and you can’t seem to force yourself to let go. All you want to do is lie down and take his knot, let him fill you up and breed you until there’s a whole pack of firelings running around these halls.

But Rhys’ arm brushes against yours, his scent drifting your direction. It makes your eyes roll back into your head, the crisp scent of night and fresh cedar sharpening your senses. You want him too, want him wrapped around your body like the tattoos twisting up his arms, want to carry his darklings and see how he frets.

They are not safe thoughts but your body demands it of you. You hadn’t known that being an omega was so difficult, that you’d go into heat and would want all of the things you didn’t ever think you’d have some day.

You need to get out of here.

Eris tips your chin up and you don’t know when you’d buried your nose deep into the crook of his neck. The glistening skin of his throat shines and you know you’ve been licking over his scent glands but you’re too far gone to be embarrassed.

Through the haze, you make eye contact with Rhys, nervous that he’ll be furious with you for how you’re acting. His face is set in stone but you can read the rage in his eyes all too well, having seen it many times before. It isn’t directed at you. All he wants to do is rip the alpha away from you and take you home, back to the Night Court where the cool air will sate your senses and his cock will ease your pain.

“Both,” you gasp, choking on it as the thought floods your mind. “I want you both.”

“Fuck, darling,” Rhys curses. His hand finds your back, knuckles stroking down your spine in a motion you want to keep moving further south. “We can’t. We don’t have clearance to stay in Autumn longer than the night.”

You whimper loudly and their hands tighten on you, Eris’ falling from the wall to your hips to pull you closer. You nuzzle into him, the warmth delicious as the fabrics between the both of you brush the sensitive skin of your body as you writhe. His scent reminds you of cozy autumn nights spent before the fire with ciders in your hands and spices wafting through the air. He smells like comfort and protection.

“Take me back, then,” you pant, rutting against the autumnal heir as he slides a thigh between the slit of your dress to relieve some of the pain. You groan at the feeling. The friction is good but not nearly enough. Your hand finally melts away from Eris’ chest only to tug Rhysand closer behind you. The sharpness of night and forest reminds you of home. “Need you both.”

Caramel meets violet in a thunderstorm of anger, splintering apart when your panting turns uneven. You’re going to pass out if they can’t calm you down, and people are starting to whisper and stare at the sight of you pressed flush between both High Lords, making both of the alphas hackles rise.

“Like hell I’m letting her go,” Eris snarls, fingers brushing across your tight nipples as he slides them down your body. He wants to settle them on your hips but Rhysand is already there, trying to tug your hips to meet his straining cock in his trousers.

Eris bypasses Rhys’ grip on you in favor of slipping it between his leg and your sex, brushing against your clothed clit. He loves the way that your nails claw in response, nearly shredding the rest of his shirt, and he wants you to leave burning red marks across the planes of his pale back, wants to revel in the needy omega from Night.

He smirks at Rhysand as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Then give us permission to stay,” Rhys says darkly, hands sliding down your sides in wanton. His breath puffs against the sensitive skin of your neck and he takes the moment for a teasing lick that you want to turn into more, a claim on you, teeth deep in your flesh and drawing blood until you’re his, and then you want Eris to do so on the other side until you’re theirs and no one else can tell you any different.

The Autumn Court male would rather burn, but the tears in your eyes has him cussing and agreeing, “Fuck. Fine. You can stay until her heat is over. No longer.”

Rhysand’s eyes blaze at the terms, how the copper haired alpha hadn’t mentioned anything about you returning with him. His jaw clenches so hard you think you hear his teeth crack. “Agreed.”

The Night Court High Lord grunts as the pact is made, a deep purple burn branding his skin with an autumn rope of vine like cattle. Eris shudders with you in his hold as whispers of menacing nightmares slither across his skin like ice, wrapping around his wrist like a vice, locking the agreement into place.

As soon as the deal settles in his bones Eris winnows you away. Rhys growls in warning, his fingers are barely brushing against the Autumn Court heir at all, but the copper haired alpha smirks, not at all minding if Rhys gets lost along the way. 

Asshole.

Dickhead.

Rhys tenses as the room whispers into view, prepared for any trap the eldest Vanserra may have taken you to. He knows it’s no longer the Woodland House, the massive estate built for Beron in the clearing of orange and crimson leaved trees. This place…is quaint, warm sunset filtering through the soft curtained windows. It smells like fresh cotton but he can scent the underlying staleness in the air. 

Eris has never brought anyone here.

His gaze follows Rhysand like one of his shadowhounds, his grip on you tight like a vice. This is his home, and he will not be made to feel vulnerable nor ashamed of it when he’s the one who’s allowed the Night Court miscreant to stay.

“This is Briarhome,” he murmurs softly, the only reprieve he’s going to give the other alpha, who's still drinking in the room, “My home.”

Not the Woodland House. He never knots in the Woodland House. Not with his brothers and father so close, where everything can be – and is – used as a weapon. He hasn’t even brought an omega to this home, no, this is his sacred spot for him and his bonded omega…or future bonded omega.

And apparently Rhysand, for the night.

Maybe the High Lord has been wrong about him.

His bed looks like the perfect spot for nesting, filled with soft quilts and a mass of pillows that makes you want to climb into and never leave. Warmth fills your stomach and drips down your thighs at the thought of knotting the both of them in such a safe place. Your heart swells and Eris lifts you into his arms, the alpha all soft and gentle now that he’s in the privacy of his own home.

You whimper when he settles you and draws away, only to his knees to start undressing. The pain is overwhelming, and you’d feel bad for being the sweaty, needy mess that you are but it’s your new nature, and neither of them will let you feel bad about it.

Eris unbuttons his shirt, fingers moving deftly across the buttons as Rhysand circles the bed, searching for the best vantage point to grab at you. Your gaze moves to his violent purple ones, your breath catching in your throat at the predatory way he’s looking at you and Eris on the bed, nostrils flaring as your body reacts with a wave of arousal at his face.

You zero in on Eris as the silk shirt slips in rivulets down his pale skin, showing off an impressive set of muscles, adorned with freckles. Your hips buck and his smirk goes soft at the snivel you release, hands snaking down to relieve the ache between your thighs.

Rhys tuts from the side of the bed, slipping into your mind. It’s like walking through fog, with the amount of desire clouding your mind. He opens himself up, just for a moment, and is flooded with your intoxicating thoughts. The feeling floods straight to his cock and he groans, shutting himself out of your mind before his knot expands in his trousers.

He climbs onto the bed, fingertips dipped in night reaching for the high collar of your dress as Eris glides his hands up your exposed thighs, grabbing a fistful of the black fabric making up the bottom of your dress. You arch under their touch, moaning wildly and they haven’t even begun to touch you where you need.

Together, both alphas growling in response to your call, they tear the front of your dress open, collar to hemline, exposing your flushed, creamy skin. The air of the room laps at your overheating skin and you gasp as your nipples tighten.

Hands instantly find your body as yours fist into the sheets, Rhysand caressing your cheek as he turns your face to capture you in a blistering kiss while Eris tugs your panties down your legs in haste.

You jolt against Rhysand’s mouth as something flicks against your throbbing clit. The primal groan you hear in answer to your taste sends shivers up your spine, and Eris is diving in without warning, trying to bury himself in your cunt, sloppy tongue lapping at your slick, wetting his cheeks and marking himself with your flavor.

Rhysand’s teeth are sharp as they nip your lip, drawing your attention back to the Night Court alpha who’s demanding your time. He coaxes your fingers from the sheets and they immediately latch onto him, just as he wanted. His fingers trail across the tight skin of your breasts, dancing over your sensitive nipples as he licks into your mouth.

You don’t like the amount of clothes he has on. How the alpha is supposed to mount you with his body covered is impossible, and you tug at the collar of his shirt, showing your utter frustration through your actions because your mouth can’t form words.

Careful, omega, his voice reverberates in your skull and then he’s everywhere all at once. I’m the one in charge.

Are you sure? You pant against his open mouth, like he’s your will to breathe. And with the way that the alpha hands move, how he’s playing nice with the other High Lord right now, he might just be. Because Eris is the one–

I can be anywhere, be anything you want me to be, he purrs, power licking up your spine as you arch off of the bed. I can have you thinking that he is me, he continues darkly, and you know Eris is the one licking through your folds like a starved alpha, but when your head is forced up on Rhysand’s whim, it’s his face you see buried between your legs.

Off, you beg, pulling at his collar again. But perhaps your mind is so muddled with lust that he’s the one slurping at your cunt. Maybe it’s Eris who looms above you fully clothed…

A strangled cry spills from your mouth as the tongue licking at your clit burns. Your head clears and your gut coils at the sensation and it’s definitely Eris that’s down there, branding his mouth to your cunt.

Rhys slips out of his shirt but you hardly notice because you’re careening over the edge into a deliciously warm orgasm, gushing on Eris face as he holds your thighs open so he can continue flicking his tongue fervently. You drag his abandoned shirt to your nose, inhaling the roguish scent of him as you cum and Mother above if it doesn’t want to make the alpha fucking bond you right then.

But the orgasm hasn’t sated the heat that's burning through your body, the reprieve only lasts a moment before it hits you twice as hard.

You need one of their knots, and you don’t care which one gives it to you.

Rhysand steps around to the end of the bed, eyes pinned on the way Eris’ head is still buried deep in your snatch. He growls, getting a fistful of his copper locks and he rips the lordling away from your throbbing cunt. You let out a whimper so loud that it nearly makes him submit to you, but he cranes Eris’ neck backwards to admire the red of his swollen lips and your slick glistening across his cheeks.

You scramble to your elbows to see what’s happening and are entranced at the two alphas glaring at each other. Your heart and pussy throb in time with each other.

They must be having some sort of mental chat because Eris has a wicked gleam in his eye as he licks the remnants of your slick from his lips, making a show of it. Rhysand’s lip curls into a snarl and he jerks the Autumn alpha back, his neck straining at the unnatural angle as his unoccupied hand reaches for his belt, flicking the buckle open with ease.

Your hand snakes to your clit and you desperately need one of them but you’ll force your body to wait to be able to watch them like this. 

“Finish it,” Rhys growls down at the alpha on his knees so that you can hear. Eris doesn’t like it, wants to send his flames licking up the Night Court King’s arm, but the look in those violet eyes makes it known that his darkness will only smother him to smoke. He reluctantly starts moving when you whine and Rhys cranes his neck further when he tries to look at you, undoing his leathers and pulling them down the strong columns of his thighs.

The High Lords prick bobs, head pink and shining with precum, and Eris’ throat works to swallow. 

You think the male might take it into his mouth, and you know Rhysand would enjoy it too, because the fireling sure knows how to use that wicked mouth of his, but the alpha towering over him leans down, pompous and arrogant as ever, and kisses him.

It’s hot and heavy, the tension in the room thickening as the two alphas grapple for dominance. They’re all wide shoulders and primal growls, licking into each other's mouths like warriors meeting on the battlefield. Eris shoves his way to his feet without breaking the bruising kiss, and their bodies mold together in a striking image of chalk and bronze. 

Your gasping breaths tear them apart, fingers fisting and manhandling each other in brutal lust. You’re working yourself through a second orgasm, just the sight of them aiding your heat, the need for them almost unbearable. You’re a shaking, sweating mess, but beautiful nonetheless as they stare down at you writhing on the bed.

Eris is the first to slip away and Rhys curses, following the heir but he’s too late because Eris is consoling you with a gentle kiss as he presses his cock into your needy cunt with a groan. He presses all of the air from your lungs, stifling you in the best way. His body is warm, cock hot as he pistons his hips in and out and in again. 

His name is a prayer on your lips as he works, his hands everywhere, sending flickers of flames up your body every time he pulls out. He loves it, wants to hear you saying his name for the rest of forever, and he holds back a bark of ownership, body shaking with the effort it takes to keep himself from biting into the exposed skin of your neck.

Rhys climbs onto the bed again, watching with keen eyes how the lithe body of Eris Vanserra drags you to your edge. He’s muscled in all of the right places, ass flexing as he pumps into you, giving you everything your body so desperately craves. 

The High Lord can tell that the other alphas knot is forming, from the sounds that he makes and the look in his eyes, the barring of his teeth and the offering of his own throat as your nails leave pink scratches down his back as you cum on his cock, so close to having what you want.

But the heir freezes and you scream, tears leaking from your eyes as you’re overcome with blistering heat – no longer Eris’ doing – and the fact that his knot is no longer growing inside of you, trying to lock the both of you together.

Rhysand is a greedy bastard and even though he’s in the home of the Autumn heir, he will never be second.

Eris’ chest heaves against yours but he can’t move, couldn’t if he wanted to, and damn the Cauldron does he want to. Fear slithers through his veins like the darkness in his mind before his fiery anger tries to flush the High Lord of the Night Court from his mind. He can only blame himself, letting the brick walls in his head crumble for you, an offering to let you into his mind as part of the bonding.

Get the fuck out of my head, he spits at the other alpha, who’s smirking down at him with lethal intent. 

Are you sure you’re an alpha? Rhys teases, using his powers to tug the coiled male from your body. His limbs are locked, clutching to you like a vice as you squirm beneath him, chasing the knot that’s not expanding. You should be able to push me out.

Your words make no sense, coming out in high pitched noises and cries. Your body is burning, your bones hurt with the aching need for a knot, for their seed to spill into your womb like it's the only thing you need to live.

I’ll fucking kill you, Eris threatens as Rhys forces him away from you. He’s like a puppet, and he hates every second of his betraying limbs as he slides away. He’s frozen, on the edge of his knot growing and it will be painful the longer he holds it but Rhys is cradling you to his chest and playing every part of the hero he wishes he could be, soothing you and letting you clutch to him as he settles between your thighs.

He’s forced to watch the smirk Rhys tosses his way, paired with a wink that lets him know he won’t be moving unless he forces that alpha out, before the High Lord softens, turning to you and silencing your whimpers with a stroke of his tongue.

Rhys wastes no time, bucking into your slick cunt with ease. He shudders as you tighten around him, a whispered moan of his name crosses your lips like it’s your last breath and he can hardly take it, pistoning his hips faster for every sound that you make.

Your legs clamp around his waist and your hand falls away from the deep planes of his back, seeking out the other alpha who you can feel roiling on the other side of the bed. Your fingers find his hair, giving a light tug, showing him that you want him nearer, and it’s all Eris needs to break the chains of his mind with a growl so domineering it makes your cunt clamp and Rhysand’s knot form as he lies claim to your thrashing body.

“Yes, yes, please,” you gasp desperately, the feeling of his hot seed spurting into you, filling you up is everything. He’s so big, his cock expanding inside of you and trapping his cum there. Your mind spins with it and you let yourself go pliant when you’re sure that the alphas won’t kill each other over you.

Eris finds you, laying claim to your mouth as you slip into the blissful sensations of your omegaspace, feeling full and protected by the two alphas you’ve brought to bed. Later, you’ll need to knot again, and your heat will last for days on end, but with the both of them here you know you’ll be more than satiated.

The copper haired alpha murmurs into your ear but you’re too relaxed to make out his soft words but your hand tightens around his at the mention of him knotting you later. 

“I’m going to give you everything you need, fawn,” he brushes the damp hair from your forehead as Rhysand strokes your cheek. He may not have daemati powers like the alpha Night Lord, and he loathes that the smug male can hear his vulnerable admissions, but he needs you to hear them. “Just give it a little time.”

“You know,” Rhysand croons when you doze off. He gently rolls the both of you so you’re more comfortable, lying on his chest. You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck while you sleep, reveling in the scent of the alpha that’s giving you everything you need. His fingers stroke down the length of your spine and he nearly preens when you melt against him. His gaze shifts to the Autumn royal. “I could make you stop again.”

Eris' eyes blaze and his teeth flash in warning but Rhysand stops his speech before he can argue.

In your head, asshole, the Night Court native warns and the other alpha glares.

Not all of us have fancy mind-speaking skills, his voice is rough with flames.

Another reason that she belongs in the Night Court with me.

Copper eyes slash to his and Rhys can see the fury rippling from the alpha beside him. Eris knows that he can’t react how he wants to, to rip Rhysand off of you and steal you away. He makes a show of taking a calming breath, but when he lets his eyes trail down your sleeping form does he truly relax.

I want her, he says.

Me too, Rhysand counters, his grip on your tightening as another wave of his cum releases into you. Only a single thought of you had triggered his ruts before, sealing himself away in the hidden cabin in the mountains because he wouldn’t be able to stop the beast inside of him if you had been nearby.

And you don’t know Eris, not truly anyway. You’d met him in passing, at meetings where he’d done nothing but snark by his father’s side, but you’d always known that there was more to them in that burnt caramel gaze.

She wants the both of us, Rhysand continues, but Eris’ temper is still hot.

Me too, he blurts, and the entire room plunges into stillness. 

Rhysand’s body goes stiff at the admission but you let out a pleased sigh like you’re agreeing with Eris. You want the both of them, and his accidental admission says he’s willing to share you, to share himself with the both of you, if Rhysand should want it.

Violet eyes rake across heated cheeks and red lips that part in nervousness, Eris’ tongue flicking out to wet them. He’s devastatingly handsome like most High Fae, but there’s an aura to him that makes something in the Night Court alphas gut churn.

But when he tries to catch the other alphas' gaze Eris won’t look his way. He’s busying himself by playing with your hair, fluffing the mass amounts of pillows on his bed, and gathering drinks and snacks from a nearby closet stocked specifically for this. You’ll need to keep your energy up and both alphas will have to coax you to eat, even though all you’ll want for the next few days is to fuck.

Eris, Rhysand calls and the lordling stops. He takes the moment to stare, eyes dragging down his pale skin from where his copper hair curls at the nape of his neck to his tapered waist and down. He knows that he’s hung, even if he couldn’t see the head of his cock between his legs from the way he’s standing stock still across the room, he’s seen it as it plunged into your body at a pace that made his cock bob. 

Slowly, the Autumn alpha looks over his shoulder, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Rhysand waves him closer, he’s already too far away from the both of you, if the whimper that Rhysand wants to mimic slips from your slips. 

She’ll need you soon, Rhys says. He can feel the way that your body is already heating up, how his knot has started to deflate. We’ll need you soon.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

You wake to soft voices and even softer kisses. You’re sweating, body hot as you’re pinned between two muscular bodies, the alphas you’d begged to knot you.

Craning your head upwards you catch the sight of Rhysand and Eris, lips locked in a much sweeter kiss than the one they’d shared earlier. 

They look glorious, tongues lapping lazily as limbs brush across each other and yours in between. You don’t know what’s happened while you were asleep but it’s nice that they’re finally getting along.

You watch for as long as your body will allow. You know that they both know that you’re awake, but you’re not sure if their kissing is a reaction to your pheromones driving their alpha senses while they waited for you to wake or their own doing, but Mother is it a sight to see.

Eris’ hand strokes up Rhys’ cock softly, twisting firmer as he reaches the head and runs a thumb over his slit. The High Lord’s breath shatters, body vibrating beneath the fiery grip of the Autumn male. 

You moan softly, hands slipping down your body to relieve yourself but Rhys’ hand is catching yours and dragging it to his cock with Eris’. 

“Both of you,” he pants, voice raspy with need. Your cunt gushes at the vulnerability in his voice, the soft way he’s commanding your motions. “Eris will take care of you, darling.”

“Yes, fawn,” the lordling breathes, rolling so he’s flush to your back. You’re manhandled onto your side and receive no warning as Eris shoves into you with a keen of his own, filling you to the brim with his throbbing cock.

Neither of you has to worry about being stopped by the High Lord of Night.

He aides your sex, slipping into the both of your minds and sharing images of the both of you together, feelings of each other and how your hands feel around his weeping cock, how tight and hot you are clenching around Eris’ cock, sharing how full you feel with him so far deep inside of you.

None of you last very long.

You cry out at an image created of Rhysands imagination; you pressed between the two of them as they both drive into you, sharing you like you never knew you needed. You bare your throat to both of them, begging the alphas to bite into the flesh of your neck, to mate and bond and love you forever.

And they do, sharing a look with each other that says they’ll figure out all of the details later, but for now, and the next few days, they have you, and they have each other. They solidify the bond in the soft bed of Briarhome, and let you mark their necks the same way in the throes of your heat, the Mother allowing your souls to forge together like the deadliest weapon.

And with both High Lords by your side, you know you will be.

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Slutmas Day 1

Only You (Matt)

Request: you're secretly fw and both have real feelings for one another but won't act on it. you guys go to a party where this girl keeps tryna get at matt, being super flirtatious and tryna b all touchy feely. matt turns her down but she keeps being persistent and it's making you jealous so you avoid him for the rest of the night. but he finds you and shows you that it's only you? idk idk @lustfulslxt

Warnings: Slight angst, sorta public sex, friends to lovers, fluffy ending, jealous reader, confessing their love for one another, slight mention of beer/alcohol and marijuana

“I don’t want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you do baby”

Y/n’s pov

I was over at the triplets house, everyone was getting ready to go to some influencer party but Chris and Nick were taking forever. I was in Matt’s room with him while we waited on his brothers. “You know, you look really hot tonight princess” he said which caused me to roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay Matthew” I replied with attitude. You see, the thing is, Matt and I are friends with benefits but we’ve both developed some feelings for each other. Lately he’s been hanging around this one other girl quite a lot and to be honest it’s starting to piss me off. I’m jealous and I’ll admit it, so I’ve been kind of dismissive towards him lately, not wanting to get my heart broken.

Anyways, back to me and Matt talking. “Don’t be so harsh princess, I’m just complimenting what’s mine” Matt dumbly smirked at me. “Oh shut the fuck up Matthew, I’m not yours and you’re not mine, you’ve made that very clear!” I replied. As I was opening his door he yelled “What the fuck is that supposed to mean!?” but I had already made my way down to Chris room. “Can you please hurry up, I want to go” “Yeah, yeah, pick out shoes and a shirt for me and I’ll be ready” he mumbled. Finally everyone was ready and we got into the van, we’ll probably take an Uber home just to be safe since Matt was probably going to get wasted.

•••Time Skip•••

We had been at this party for about two hours and I was already pretty high, only having one drink. Matt has been talking to some new bitch, I glared over at him as he smiled at me. He was seemingly unaware of anything being wrong so I decided to just continue avoiding him. “Hey pretty lady, watcha smoking there?” Matt asked me as I look another hit off my pen. I rolled my eyes and walked away from him with a scoff but was quickly pulled into a different direction. “Hey let me fucking go!” I yelled at whoever was dragging me but they turned around and of course it was Matt.

“Matthew! What the fuck!” I yelled at him but he just kept walking. After a minute or two, we made it to an unoccupied bathroom, Matt quickly pushed me inside and locked the door before pushing me up against it. “What’s your deal tonight? You’re acting—“ he started before I cut him off by pushing him off of me. “What’s wrong Matt? That chick you’ve been flirting with all night turn you down?” I rolled my eyes. “Other way around, I turned her down sweetheart. Stop being so fucking jealous!” Matt said between gritted teeth as his hand came up to wrap around my throat.

“Stop fucking every girl you see!” I yelled back but that just seemed to piss Matt off more considering he pushed me up against the wall. “You’re the only girl I’m fucking, you’re the only girl I’m talking to, you’re the only girl that I fucking care about!” he once again yelled before smashing our lips together. The kiss was hot and sloppy, our tongues fighting for dominance as our teeth clashed together. It was so needy, we only pulled away long enough for Matt to say “Jump” and catch me. I was set on the bathroom counter and Matt finally pulled away from me, both of us out of breath.

“Let me prove it to you” Matt said as he started kissing my neck. “Okay” with that he pulled off my panties and shoved them in his pocket before undoing his belt and pants, letting those and his boxers pool around his ankles. “You ready baby?” “Yes please” Matt lined himself up with me before thrusting in and out slowly. “Matt babe, faster please” I whined and he obliged, pounding into me like no tomorrow. “Fuck this pussy was made for ME! You’re mine, you got that Y/n? MINE!” he grunted out as he somehow started going faster.

I was pulling on his hair and loudly moaning, if anybody walked by the door they’d definitely hear me. “I don’t want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you do baby!” Matt said pulling back and slowing down a little bit, “Bad timing but please be my girlfriend!” he added. I was shocked to say the least but I agreed, “Yes! Yes I’m yours Matt! All yours!” I whimpered. As soon as I agreed to be his girlfriend, he went back to railing me like no tomorrow.

“Fuck Matt, I’m so close!” “Me too baby just hold on” he started to rub my clit and smashed his lips against mine again. His movements were all so fast and overwhelming in the best way possible and it was getting harder to hold my orgasm in. Luckily for me, Matt pulled back from the kiss just enough to mumble, “Cum for me baby, cum so I can fill you up” against my lips. With that, I let go, cumming hard and clenching around his cock.

I threw my head back as I moaned, causing my head to hit the mirror “Careful baby— Oh god fuck! Yeah that’s right- You’re pussy’s so fucking tight for me, shit!” Matt moaned as he came inside of me. Both of our legs were a little bit shaky and our breathing was erratic but even as Matt pulled out, everything in this moment felt right. “Let me clean you up sweetheart” Matt said as he grabbed a washcloth from under the sink, getting it wet before gently wiping me down. “Hey Matt, I think I’m in love you” I spoke quietly as Matt cleaned himself off and put his pants back on.

“I know I’m fucking in love with you. I love you and I have for so long, I just didn’t want you to leave me so I never told you” he admitted to me, standing in between my legs and fixing my hair. “Can I take you out on a date tomorrow Matty?” “No but I’ll take you out on a date” he winked. “By the way you’re not getting your panties back tonight” he smirked as I hopped off the counter. “Maaatttt no, I need them” I protested but he just opened my he bathroom door and grabbed my hand.

“No you don’t, me and you are going home. I’ll tell Nick and Chris to catch an Uber” I just rolled my eyes with a cheesy smile on my face. “You better massage my legs when we get home” I teased as Matt opened the car door for me. “Oh trust me, I’m gonna run you a nice warm bath and take off your makeup and dry your hair and just take care of you for the rest of the night my love” Matt smiled before placing a quick peck to my lips and driving us home.

All work is subject to copyright

©️ Daddyslilchickenfingers2 2023

Do not steal my work

[allzelemonz]

Developing Powers: Clark Kent X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Mentions of sexual situations, nudity Warnings: Characters are the same age, high school aged characters, awkward teenagers, pillow fights, farm boys being farm boys, showers, cold showers, accidental peeping Tom, mentions of masturbation Summary: Clark’s developing powers complicate things when his best friend stays over the weekend.

Clark’s pillow hits your head and you fall backwards onto his bed with a grunt. Before you can react, he’s on top of you with his hands pressing you down on your chest as he laughs in victory.

“Not fair, Kent.” You huff, struggling to reach for your pillow.

He grins, grabbing your wrist. “You started it.”

A knock prompts you both to look past the foot of Clark’s bed to the door. Pa Kent stands in the doorway, laughing lightly. “You boys are supposed to be in bed, lots of work in the morning.” He looks down at you. “And I won’t have your father thinking I ruined your work ethic, young man.”

Clark moves off of you. “Just messing around, Pa.”

“I know.” He smiles. “But I let him sleep over so you two could get to work early.”

“We’ll go to bed, sir.” You say, sitting up. “Sorry if we were being loud.”

“Just get your showers and get in bed, boys.” He turns to you. “We milk our cattle early, up by four.”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

Pa Kent gives one last fatherly point before he closes the door and his footsteps creak over the floor towards his and Ma Kent’s room.

Clark tosses you a towel, hitting you square in the head as he giggles. “You can go first.”

You stand, giving his shoulder a light shove as you grab your backpack and disappear into the hall. Clark giggles to himself, just happy Pa agreed to let you stay the night to help with farmwork over the weekend. He flips through his homework packet, trying to find the energy to actually read the questions. He doesn’t. It’s Friday, his best friend is staying over, math homework can wait. He tosses the packet onto his desk, writing a note to do it on Sunday. With any luck, his developing super-speed applies to his math processing too.

When Clark looks up, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He can see you. His x-ray vision has slipped before and he’s been practicing his control on it, but it’s never caused him to glance up and see his best friend naked. Not just naked either, naked with water dripping over your skin and absolutely no limbs obstructing his view of your hanging dick.

Clark’s face turns bright red and he slaps his hands over his eyes. His skin has turned hot and his heart is beating a mile a minute. Sure, he’s been in a locker room with you and you’ve used urinals around each other but he’s never got such a full frontal in his life, there’s always been a wall or arm or folding pants in the way. Clark takes deep breaths, trying not to think, but when he looks back in the direction his eyes peer through without control. His breath hitches, he nearly chokes, watching your hands run over your dick. It's just scrubbing, just washing, but Clark’s mind wanders to images of you alone in your bedroom and he has to bury his face into the pillows of his bed to get his head back.

He’s sweating, face hidden in his pillow as he tries to breathe. He shouldn’t think about his best friend like that, he shouldn’t even be able to see you through the stupid walls. When Clark catches his breath and shifts to sit up, he freezes. The cotton of his boxers rubbing with the rough denim of his jeans, all making sparks of sensitivity shoot down to his toes by shifting against his now hard dick. Clark wants to scream. He just got hard at the mere thought and sight of his best friend touching himself.

The water shuts off and Clark scrambles to grab his stuff, holding it in front of himself as you walk out. His heart skips as you do, your hair still a bit wet and the pajamas clinging to your body from only just being put on.

You stop, looking at him strangely. “Uh, you okay?”

Clark nods, trying to hide his flushed face. “Mhm, yeah, just really need the shower.”

He rushes past you, disappearing into the hall. He closes the bathroom door behind him, breathing heavily as he tries to clear his head again. When the thoughts remain, Clark turns the water on cold and closes his eyes. The water washes over him, helping his erection die down in the icey temperature.

[webslingingslasher]

Sometimes I like to think Peter confessed to trouble one night after randomly barging into her dorm room thru the window, bleeding in like 20 dif places, and while she’s frantic asking what the fuck happened looking for a med kit he’s high off adrenaline and is like “SPIDER-MAN. ME SPIDER-MAN.” and she’s just like “what the FUCK did you just say?!”

it makes me giggle

-🪼

😭😭😭 i could imagine this fr. like, he was on the brink of blacking out, bleeding out and dying and all he had was you because may is at minimum, thirty minutes away.

peter leaves a bloody handprint on your window when he pushes it open, then collapses to your floor while heaving for air. you nearly jump out of bed at the sound, terrified and ready to call peter because who the fuck entered your room through your window in the middle of the night?

except it’s spider-man, and you jump into action, getting to him in two steps and hitting the carpet with your knees.

grabbing his shoulder, ‘oh my god, oh my god, spider-man, are you okay?’ he’s not okay, he’s dying on your floor.

peter doesn’t have it in him to play pretend, he rips the mask off. you gasp and throw him back into the wall, peter groans.

‘what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the-‘

‘trouble, please.’

you run around, your mom packed you a first aid kit when you moved to college, you’ve never used it. now you need it, where the fuck is it?

‘what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, peter?’

he’s clutching his side, there’s so much blood.

‘this is why you’re not allowed to do this, you promise me right now you’ll stop.’

‘you know i can’t,’ he gasps for air, ‘do that.’

‘oh what the fuck, this isn’t happening. what the fuck, this is how you told me? i mean, what the fuck?!’

‘you’re doing a great job at handling it, super stellar.’

you throw a towel at him, he holds it to his worst laceration.

‘don’t you dare get upset with me, you’re the one leading a double life showing up to my fucking window at deaths door. jesus christ, peter. what the fuck!’

‘can i please get a bandaid?’

you find the kit, you tear the plastic and open it.

‘you need a fucking trauma unit.’

peter pulls out a roll of gauze, then motions towards his suit, ‘do me a favor and get me out of this.’

‘oh my god, am i dreaming? this isn’t real life, you’re not real.’

peter’s struggling to free himself, you help while dazed. your brain is melting. ‘is this a bad time to ask for an autograph?’

he stares at you. you blink back.

peter can’t believe he has to say it. ‘yes. it’s a terrible time.’

you pull the suit down to his hips, he’s cut a million different ways. ‘so, is that a no?’

peter wraps the gauze around his arm and tears it with his teeth, the sight makes your heart thump, he looks up at you. ‘don’t you dare get turned on right now, that’s sadistic.’

‘you’re hot when you’re bloody.’

‘oh, jesus christ. fucking cauterize me and you can live out your fantasies.’

you grab a handful of bandaids and a tube of neosporin. ‘on it.’

[ultimate-marysue]

My personal body headcanons for the Batfam

Bruce: He is a tank made of pure muscle. Like many other users have put forward (recommend especially @frownyalfred posts on the matter), that's not an easy feat to pull off. It is a testament to Bruce's willpower and dedication to Batman that he's even able to maintain it. Also, I think he took really good care of his scars in the beginning so they would be as inconspicuous as possible when sleeping around as Brucie. Once he gets older and leans more into the father persona he stops caring as much for anything that's going to be covered by his suits and shirts.

Barbara: I hated the fact that her disability got completely erased, so that's the first difference. If you want to have her be Batgirl again, you should do what Gotham Knights did and make it so there are lasting effects and limitations. I'm sorry, but it feels so cheap to me that they just erased disability rep cause they didn't know how to write a strong disabled woman. Skill issue. Also Barbara is built like a brick in my heart of hearts, she's a rectangle with the density of a neutron star. I also think she has one of the healthiest and normal diets of the Bats, mainly cause the physical requirements of Oracle aren't nearly as demanding.

Dick Grayson: I'm not going to reinvent the wheel here by saying Dick Grayson has the perfect acrobat's body. My headcanon is that he gets it naturally. Not that he can just do whatever you want, sadly with their line of work you need to meet a series of requirements. I mean it in the sense of 1) proportions 2) really high metabolism from constant exercise since he was a child, probably the fastest tied with Cass 3) he doesn't need to work out as much outside patrol as the rest to keep his body mass. Every single robin after him low-key hates him for creating a fighting style that only he can do effortlessly.

Cassandra Cain: like mother like daughter, my girl is thick. None of that waifish, delicate ballerina shit. She's short and she has muscles most humans haven't heard of. Average goon tries to knock this 5 feet nothing girl only to be met by an unmovable object. Also, probably contender for top most scarred bat of all. She just looks like she could fuck your shit up without breaking a sweat and that's probably because she could. Also I think she has short legs, giving her an even lower center of gravity. She's just a brick wall.

Jason Todd: my man is one of the few bitches in this family with a normal, healthy, percentage of body fat. He's built like a strong man instead of a body builder, and the fact that he can be sneaky with all that mass is terrifying. I think for a minute there he wondered what he was doing wrong and why he didn't look as lean as Bruce. Then he figured what Bruce had to do to keep Batman's body in line and Jason said "fuck that, I'm not doing all that". In his villain self destructive era that waist was snatched, but the second he started taking actual care of his body it did what body's do. Considering how he mixes so many fighting techniques I can see him building his fighting style around his needs instead of the other way around.

Steph: she's the curviest of the Batgirls, which is why she favors so much the "indistinct blob" silhouette. As any woman with a boobs size above an B cup will tell you: people get disgusting really quick. I think part of her struggles with Robin was trying to wrangle her developing body into a fighting style designed for a very naturally lean boy. Balancing is harder when you have a large set of bazonkers, they don't tell you this in the comics but it is the truth. She also lacks the super fast metabolism other Bats have, and I can see her trying really hard to fit in the mold only to realize as she grows older that she can do her own thing.

Tim: I think Tim, growing up as society kid and then forcing himself into the Robin role, never learned what eating healthy is. I headcanon him having some sort of ED (I think he would evolve through a few of them as he grew up), not because I like throwing angst at characters (though I do) but because it makes sense to me giving his background and personality. EDs are not only about "looking thin", but also about feeling in control. Also, Tim hanging onto the Robin title reminds me of child actors trying to force their developing body's to stop at a kid size so they can keep playing their character. I could write a whole post about it, but for what's relevant, the ED headcanon doesn't mean Tim is just super thin. I think his body is fluctuates the most out of any of the Bats, depending on where he's at mentally and age wise.

Duke Thomas: my boy is built for parkour. He's got the longest limbs in the family, he's got the reach. He keeps waiting for puberty to hit him like a train and give him Jason/Bruce levels of muscle mass, but he's just too tall. Like, yes, he can bench press Jason, but proportionally he's so much taller than all of them by then he just looks noodly. When he puts on the body armor though he makes Batman look like a Barbie doll. Anytime he's looming about, Jason accuses him of overcompensating. Duke just pretends to not be able to hear him from up above. Also pls DC give him long hair that floats around him in the same way Batman's cape does?? Pls, just give him magic girl hair that defies gravity.

Damian: I've said this before but this poor child grew up being told he'd one day be as huge as his dad but grows up to be Talia 2.0. I think he does inherit Bruce's height, but is distraught to never be hulking mountain of muscle like OG Batman. Little does he know Bruce isn't naturally that big either, and it's only through frankly unhealthy means he maintained that body. Everyone else agrees to never tell Damian about it so he won't even think to try it, and instead focus on reassuring him he's more than strong enough to inherit the title if that's what's bothering him. It ends up playing in his favor, Cass is proof that you don't need to be huge to instill the fear of God into people. And the way he moves, like a panther stalking his prey, is more than enough to make the rogues quake.