#hiding this in the tags bc I'm a little embarrassed

[bunnyboy-juice]

shhhhh

[nereidprinc3ss]

pretty little things

in which you can't keep hiding your stuffed animals from your boyfriend. spencer would like a formal introduction.

fluff! warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, newish established relationship, they're so cute, reader is still kinda shy around him, I'm really obsessed with this dynamic actually, implied intimacy if you decide to interpret it that way, kissing/maybe mildly suggestive a/n: this is dedicated to my friends @parfaitblogs and @gublersg1rl bc in another universe we are actually just three jellycat plushies on someone's bed which is where the inspo for this little thing came from. and thank u willow for naming your fox. ok bye love u hope u enjoy !! :D

The first time you’d shown Spencer your room, and the handful of times he’s been in it since, you very intentionally hid your stuffed animals underneath the bed. After all, you’re an adult. You have a grown up job. And you don’t need him thinking you’re some kind of freak this early into the relationship. You like him too much. 

Today, however—you didn’t have any warning. He comes over unannounced, which is all well and good, until you bring him to your bedroom so he can sit on the bed while you change from work clothes into something comfier for movie night. As soon as you open the bedroom door, you see them, lined up neatly by your pillow, and you know it’s too late. 

“Uh…”

Spencer runs into your back and takes it as an excuse to settle his hands on your hips as he peers over your shoulder. 

“What?”

You slip out of his easy hold and skitter to your bed, practically throwing yourself on the mattress and sitting unnaturally as the little beaded eyes of your friends dig into your back. Even your brightest smile doesn’t distract Spencer. He’s like a bloodhound for the truth. At least, that’s the sense you’re beginning to get. 

“What are you doing?” He tries again, eyes narrowed and closing the door carefully behind him. 

“Nothing!”

The urgency with which you say it has his eyebrows raising. Obviously delighted by the embarrassing secret he’s sure to uncover, he approaches. You lean back further even as he towers over you until you’re almost on your back and he’s folded over you, menacingly (and dizzyingly) close. This sort of position is still new-ish and has your heart pounding, even if it’s entirely playful and ostensibly innocent. 

“Nothing? Are you sure?”

You nod, still shying away from him into the pile of pillows. Without looking he reaches under you and pulls out your pink bunny. You squeak and hide your face. 

“What is this?” He laughs, and you yank it away, sitting up so he’s forced to give you some breathing room. The bunny is cradled protectively in your arms, though you try to hold it a bit more casually when you notice. 

“I said it’s nothing.”

“What about the other two behind you? The fox and the… what is that? A deer?”

“No—”

“I didn’t even know they made deer stuffed animals—”

“Spencer, stop!”

He does, at the desperate tone of voice and the way you’re still hiding from him. 

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

As usual he’s over apologetic, now sitting knee to knee with you on the mattress and leaning down to try and catch your eye. You huff and grant him some eye contact just so he doesn’t go over the edge with worry. 

“But it’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s really not,” he laughs. “It’s cute. I can’t believe you’ve been—what, hiding them from me? This whole time? That’s like not telling me you have kids.”

“It is not like that.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I think you should probably introduce me.”

You give him a look, letting your head fall to your shoulder. “Spencer.”

“I’m serious. I’m going to be apart of their lives now. You can’t keep shoving them under the bed every time I stay the night.”

This nerd is going to be the death of you. 

Eventually, you groan reluctantly. 

“Fine. Okay, um—this one is… well—her name is Bunny. It’s not… very creative, but it’s—that’s just her name, okay?”

Spencer doesn’t react to your unjustified defensiveness—only grabs your bunny’s round little pink paw and shakes. “Enchanted.”

“Shut up.” Your face is so hot as you bury your smile and set Bunny aside, making sure she’s comfortable against the pillow before bringing out your deer. Spencer doesn’t have the shit-eating grin you were partially expecting when you glance up at him from beneath your lashes—he’s smiling, but it’s so soft. A little twisted, like he’s holding back the full extent of it for your sake. But you wouldn’t mind it at full power. It’s like he’s hiding the sun in a saucepan and the lid’s not on quite right. And he’s looking right at you. Like you’re the source of all his joy. 

A moment passes. You clear your throat and look back down. “Um—this is Bambi. ’Cause—you know.”

“I do,” Spencer agrees genially, nodding as if this were a normal conversation. “Kind of a dark thing to name your deer, though.”

“You’re judging,” you accuse balefully. He chuckles and his hand finds your knee, rubbing apologetically. 

“I’m not, I’m not! I take it back. I retract it. Continue, please.”

For a moment you only pout, but it doesn’t deter him—he simply looks at you expectantly, and now those syrupy eyes come with the added bonus of his hand on your leg. Fine. He wins. But not without a deep, tortured sigh from you while you’re grabbing your fox that makes the corner of his mouth twitch up. 

“This one is…”

The name dies on your tongue, too ridiculous to be said out loud. 

“Tell me,” Spencer pleads in that gentle voice and with those big eyes that you’d consider burning him at the stake for because that look on his face has to be witchcraft. 

“Okay but you can’t laugh,” you insist in one quick breath, giving him a serious look that he can only partially reciprocate. 

“No laughing.”

“It’s… Mr. Cuddles.”Spencer bites the inside of his cheek to keep his promise. You melt inside both from embarrassment and from the way it only further defines an already superbly sculpted bone structure. “Do not.”

Spencer scoffs at your warning. “Don’t what? I’m behaving.”

“Don’t make fun of Mr. Cuddles!”

“Does it look like I’m making fun of him?”

“Her.”

“What?”

“Her. Mr. Cuddles is a girl.”

“I see… can you explain that to me?”

“If a human person said I am a girl and I would like you to call me Mister, would you question that? Would you ask them to explain it to you?”

“I guess not.”

“Exactly. Don’t be rude.”The way Spencer is looking at you now, eyes so clear and still so full of affection, like you’ve got some sort of heavenly spotlight trained on you, lips parted as if to say something but still silent, has you forgetting your momentary confidence. You shrink. “What?”

“I just… you’re amazing.” You throw Mr. Cuddles at his chest and fall into your pile of pillows with a groan. Spencer only continues rubbing your leg. It’s very nice, actually. He’s gentle. And patient. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you came to this conclusion just because I introduced you to my stuffed animals.”

“Not solely because of that. There are a lot of contributing factors. I mean, the stuffed animal thing helped.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you insist for the umpteenth time. 

“It’s adorable.”

Spencer pushes pillows aside and lies next to you so you’re eye to eye. It’s nice how his presence isn’t exhausting the way people sometimes are. He’s easy to exist with. He makes you enjoy existing a little more than usual. Even now. 

You raise your eyebrows and speak, cheek squished against fabric. “I’m a serious adult.”

“I know you are,” he assures with a solemn nod. 

Your eyes narrow ever so slightly. 

“Okay… well… don’t go forgetting that. I’m fun but I can also be not fun.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“No you wouldn’t. You would hate it. You’d be so scared.”

Spencer gives up on holding back a smile and moves his hand to tuck hair behind your ear. 

“You’re right. I’m already terrified. The anticipation… it’s killing me, you know?”

You’re giggling as you roll over on top of him and he roots his hand in your hair, pulling you in for a long, smiley kiss like he knew it was coming. Only when he blindly throws your stuffed friends from the bed do you pull away—just by an inch or so. 

“No respect,” you scold playfully. He kisses you again, tangling your legs and hands wandering. 

“Can I apologize later?”

You’re good with that. 

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I missed you so much" you pout.

"Missed how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

"I missed you too" he whispers out, getting tired.

He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[vifilms]

omfg i meant rayne gosh thats embarrassing autocorrect hates me but yeah sub abby and reader sharing a double-sided dildo

crave | a. anderson

tags: eighteen+, wlw sex, penetration (r + abby!recieving), double sided dildo, mommy!kink, switch!abby but she's being a sub, desc of reader is vague so masc +fem!reader, yeah very close to ovulating so, but whimpering abby bc that needs to be a warning

a/n. real ones know i'm a sub!abby truther so this is for you just as much as it is for me. going to start working on requests y'all have sent me over the past few months. hopefully, the first of many to come. stay tuned!

DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.

divider creds — @cafekitsune

for once, abby is subjected the feeling she offers you everyday. it’s not only you whose moaning pathetically, it’s fucking her. she hates to admit it, fuck, she doesn’t even like moaning the way you’re making her. so fucking loud and desperate as her pussy clings around the cock while she’s trying to fuck you.

now, she understand why you can’t fucking talk whenever she’s fucking you because she’s having trouble uttering a word.

“are you good, baby?” you reach for abby, cradling her freckled cheeks in the palm of your gentle hands. you’re trying your best to make an effort, but it’s difficult.

she’s so deep, thrusting her hips into you deliciously, biting her pretty pink lips in concentration. blue eyes morphed to gray as she gives what you can take. it’s too much for you to handle. almost.

“yeah honey, i’m good. why wouldn’t i be?” she leans down to kiss your pretty lips. abby devours you completely trying to convince you she’s fine but then she whimpers.

quite pathetically.

“mhm, knew you would like it.” you say with a smirk on your face.

abby’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but it holds as much weight as a feather. you lift your hips up to meet hers causing her to mouth to drop open, a whimper of your name falling from your girlfriend’s lips.

“shut up.” abby grits her teeth as the cock wedges further inside her, moans bubbling in her mouth and she isn’t sure how much longer she can control it.

you can see the faint hint of a smile. abby knows you’re right but she would never admit. too proud to be a whimpering mess but you’ll get her there. the way her abs clench is a clear indication. this is fucking effecting her, not being able to focus on you. simply overpowered by the way her cunt is getting fucked.

for you, it’s a beautiful sight to see.

“not as easy to take as it is to give it, huh?” you move your hips up again, the dildo reaching further inside her cunt. strong thighs beginning to tremble.

“fuck, ah, shit baby.” abby begins to whimper like you’ve never heard her before. never this vocal to you, ever. it’s a beautiful symphony personally crafted for you. secretly, you hope this wouldn’t be the last time.

you needed more of her her, like this.

“oh? my baby likes being fucked like this? mommy’s taking my cock like a pretty little slut. being s’good.” abby’s trying to fuck you, fuck, she really is. but it seems impossible. tonight, the power shifted in the air and she can’t hide how much she loves it.

you’re used to this feeling and she’s simply not.

the blonde pushes herself further into you, letting the dildo slide deeper, until she’s hiding her face in the crook of your neck. gentle moans being smothered against your skin.

“fuck…take it, baby. wanna see my pretty girl cum. m’kay?” abby can’t control herself as her body shakes. you’re splitting her entire being in half. you’re so perfect for her. fucking her so unimaginably good, it feels like a figment of her imagination.

so, abby gives herself. she’s never done it before, not like this, but it’s done easily and without resistance. she lets herself groan at the fingers woven in her hair tugging at the root. she rests her hand on your waist gently instead of making a pretty necklace around your throat. she’s lost in whatever this is, craving to be fed more of everything you have to offer.

reblogs are appreciated! ♡

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Baby Got Back

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: T Word Count: 3933 Tags: Human AU, gym meet-cute, lust at first sight, call that a meat-cute, supporting appearance by Death, Dream of the Endless is a horny little weasel, Hob puts the 'ass' in 'exercise class', Dream of the Endless (Sturridge Edition) has no cake to serve, embarrassment, exercise, Death is the worst (best) wingman

Notes: This happened bc @dragonnan shared this video in the Mr Sadman server and the scene Would Not Leave my brain. The meat-cute tag is also courtesy of Dragonnan. ❤️ Title is of course borrowed from Sir Mix-a-Lot's song of the same name. I physically could not call this anything else.

Summary: Dream's sister drags him to the gym. Will the instructor and his assets be enough to convince Dream it's worth his time?

On AO3 Dream is pleased to see, as he begrudgingly follows his sister into the exercise class she'd signed them up for, that at least the instructor isn't the bodybuilding jock type that has historically put him off going to the gym entirely. Dream gets only a glance at the back of him as they enter the space, but he is slim and athletically built—neither thick-necked nor thickly-muscled, nor is any part of him built like a tree trunk.

That is a relief.

Dream still does not want to be here.

But he loves his sister, and is ultimately not immune to her dogged persistence.

"Come on, Dream, just one time, please? I'm sure you'll find something you like about it!"

Months, she has been cajoling him; it is his hope that she will drop the subject now that he has finally given in.

"Hello, welcome everyone!" Mr. Not-a-Musclebound-Jock speaks up, drawing attention to start the class. "My name is Robert, but you can call me Hob, and I'll be your instructor for this undertaking! Good to see some of you back, and nice to see all these new faces too! Now, today we're going to start off slow; I'll demonstrate some techniques and we can all try them out one at a time before we really get going, alright?" He claps his hands, rubs them together. "Those of you who've been here before, please feel free to help out the newcomers if they need it. Especially if you brought them." He glances at Dream and Death with a tiny nod, as Death is one of those returning students, and Dream.

Well.

He is hearing the words—"quick stretches", now, and "warmup"—he is paying attention, truly, but he is also.

Staring.

Which is not so terrible; all eight of them in the class are watching the instructor and following along with the warmup, as they should. But Dream does not think his thoughts are in line with anyone else's.

Because the instructor, Hob—he is gorgeous. Arrestingly so. Beautiful in a very ordinary way; average height, the previously noted slim build, brown hair greying slightly at the temples and pulled into a messy bun, dark eyes, strong nose, friendly smile. Nothing individually remarkable, but together? Oh. That smile lances straight through Dream in a way that makes his stomach curl up giddily. Hob is wearing a white t-shirt that is tight and thin enough it can't quite hide what looks to be a lush thicket of chest hair, and the amount of hair on his arms and legs further supports that hypothesis. He's wearing mallard green spandex shorts that show off, well, everything, and it's all very nice.

Perhaps this class will be tolerable, after all.

"Okay, the first thing I want to tackle is a modified squat form," Hob says once they've finished the warmup stretches, and Dream is immediately reassessing his optimism. He hates squats; hates most sorts of physical exercise, to be honest, which is why Death had had to wheedle so hard to get him to join her. But squats, of course, were particularly loathsome. And Hob sounds far too cheerful about them.

"This modification is pretty simple; you'll just need to find a pole, here, and do like this." Hob turns so his back is mostly to the class, grabs an upright bar on the nearest weight machine—Dream has no idea what any of this equipment is properly called—then plants his feet far apart and leans back, bending his knees into a beautifully right-angled squat and Dream?

Dream nearly swallows his tongue.

Hob's green spandex shorts and everything they contain have gone from 'nice' to 'scandalously on display' and Dream is absolutely mesmerized. The way Hob's body drops, the wide stance of his legs, the way his cheeks spread as he sinks low—Dream is having capital-T Thoughts, none of which are in the bible, as Desire is fond of saying. Hob's thighs, while built slim, are well-muscled and incredibly toned and every contour of quads and hamstrings is straining into beautiful prominence beneath those shorts. His arse is likewise presented, every curve and dimple beautifully highlighted by shiny green fabric, and Dream is very sure he can see the imprint of individual hairs beneath the stretched spandex. The material is rendered slightly-sheer by the position and, unmistakably, there is a distinctive 'whale-tail' flaring above Hob's shapely cheeks.

Dream's mouth goes dry. Is he—?

There is a telling lack of lines under the spandex.

He is. Hob is wearing a thong.

Dream is ridiculously grateful for the Extreme Support jock strap he'd put on before coming here; he is having a most unfortunate reaction to every aspect of Hob's demonstration, but his shorts are far more forgiving than Hob's and the underwear beneath them is keeping things decent enough for the public environment.

He hopes.

"See the problem so many people have with squats is the knee strain," Hob is saying, as he straightens up again. He lets go of the pole. "Most of the time when we do squats, we're leaning forward a bit for balance, right?" He bends into position, demonstrating; his arse and thighs are on display again and it is no less arresting than the previous example. "And that's where that knee pressure comes from, trying to keep that balance."

Dream can think of several ways to help Hob keep his balance in such a position, all of which involve their bodies in intimate proximity and none of which would be particularly easy on anyone's knees.

"But like this"—Hob takes hold of the equipment again and leans back, drops slowly into his squat—"it's easy to keep your chest straight, get all that nice core support and this ninety-degree angle here"—his free hand strokes the curve of his own arse from hip to thigh and Dream inhales sharply—"and your anchoring pressure is all in your heels. No knee strain!" He sinks deep, presumably in demonstration and Dream is so full of lewd thoughts he genuinely fears he might burst. He watches the flex of Hob's thighs and arse as the man raises himself and lowers back into another squat; he bites his tongue to still the whimper rising in his throat, watches Hob perform another slow controlled bounce, is painfully aware of all his blood rushing south.

"This keeps all the working power in your glutes, which of course helps you build a nice tight round arse—and that's what we're all here for right?" Hob grins over his shoulder as he sinks down again.

A smattering of laughter answers him, including a chuckle from Death, but Dream cannot stop staring at Hob's arse. Which is indeed. Round. And tight. Chiseled. Contoured into sharp relief beneath the stretch of spandex shorts. And the texture of his body hair on top of all that? The thong? The way his cheeks flex and spread as he sinks low, clench beautifully as he rises up again?

Dream is utterly lost.

His sister bumps him with her shoulder. "Alright there, Dream?"

He makes a tiny, strangled noise that he hopes she will take for assent. He can only imagine what color his face is at the moment.

"You can do this at home, too, by the way, if you happen to have a pole—or a sturdy door jamb to hang onto." Hob demonstrates one more deep squat and straightens up, turning to face the class again. "Alright. Everyone find a support and try it out!"

Dream cannot. He cannot fathom duplicating the exercise with the vision of Hob's arse in his head, performing those same motions—supportive underwear or not, he is going to embarrass himself.

"Here we go!" Death singsongs next to him, indicating the nearest weight machine—which does in fact have two upright supports that will serve their purposes. She steps over and takes hold of one, leans herself back with feet planted wide and performs a squat.

Which does wonders to clear Dream's head; it's not titillating when his sister does it and he finds he can refocus appropriately.

"This feels ridiculous," he mumbles, joining her and reluctantly taking up position. "This looks ridiculous."

"Didn't look ridiculous when Hob did it, right?" Death's tone is entirely nonchalant, not even teasing, but Dream seizes up all the same. He knows she's sharp, that she can't have missed the way he was staring nor what, precisely, he'd been staring at. But her words are entirely innocent. "Just need a bit of practice and you'll make it look that good too, little brother."

He is about to reply as he lowers himself, something scathing and devastatingly witty, surely, but another voice cuts in first.

"Ah, so this is your little brother, DeeDee?"

Hob.

Dream, having just reached the lowest point in his first squat, finds quite abruptly that his body has decided to forget how to move.

His sister is answering. "Hey Hob! Yeah, this is Dream. I finally convinced him to come in with me."

"Wonderful! Always glad to have new friends join the fun!" Hob holds out a hand.

As if Dream is in any position to shake it.

His eyes are nearly level with Hob's chest and it takes every fiber of willpower he possesses to keep them up on Hob's face; in his distraction, he lets go of the pole to shake hands anyway.

Inevitibly, he falls flat on his arse.

"Oh god I'm so sorry!" Hob reaches to help him up, looking alarmed.

His sister is stifling her laughter.

"Thank you," Dream manages, pride bruised, face aflame, but he takes Hob's hand and pulls himself quickly to his feet. He does not dare look around to see who else in the class has borne witness to his bumbling ignominy. Besides which. Hob is no less attractive in close proximity and Dream's brain is replaying all those squats in quick flashes while also gibbering about the chest hair showing through that thin white t-shirt, none of which is at all conducive to keeping his composure. Desperately, he tries to pick up the thread of the conversation. "Yes. I am Dream. DeeDee's brother."

He never calls Death DeeDee. And she had just introduced him, by name, as her brother.

He needs to stop talking before he embarrasses himself any further.

But Hob only grins brightly, shakes his hand firmly. "I'm Hob, Hob Gadling. Teach the class, obviously." He drops Dream's hand, clears his throat. "Didn't mean to interrupt your practice—or drop you on your arse, apologies! Let's try that form again?"

"What? Yes." Dream tears his gaze from Hob's mouth and the dimple in his chin, and then again from Hob's chest, turns to blindly grab at the pole he'd been using. "Like this?" He moves on instinct, dropping into a squat, trying his hardest to remember what Hob had demonstrated without fixating on how his arse looked doing it.

He is not successful.

And he still hates squats.

"That's a good start," Hob says, encouragingly, and Dream is mortified by the way something in him warms to it. "Now let's try straightening up a bit more—may I?"

Dream is nodding assent before he realizes that Hob's hand is hovering over his back, that Hob is asking permission to touch.

He barely stifles the sound in his throat as Hob's fingers skate down his spine, offer firm pressure just below his waist while his other hand guides Dream's shoulders back. "There we go, see? Let the pole hold your balance so you can get this ninety-degree angle, right here"—his hand moves from Dream's back to his hip, a professional touch that nevertheless sends Dream's brain up in smoke—" and takes the strain off your knees. See?"

"Yes," Dream manages, barely aware of what he's agreeing with.

"Now, when you push yourself up, you've got to make sure you're using your legs," Hob cautions, as Dream rises. "Don't pull yourself up using the pole; you want the work happening in your thighs and your glutes." Thankfully (regrettably), his demonstrative touching seems to be done, and Dream does not have to cope with Hob's hands on his arse. He does not know how much more of this he can handle—the proximity, the images still burned in his brain. The touching. That voice.

That smile.

He just needs. One moment. A chance to compose himself, to remember how to behave like a normal human being.

He lowers himself into another squat, muscles already beginning to protest, making sure to keep his form as Hob had instructed.

"Good!" Hob says, sounding genuinely pleased, and Dream's insides turn to goo. "Use those glutes, excellent!"

"Because that's how you build a nice round arse, right?" Death says—how did Dream manage to forget that she is literally standing right beside him through all of this—and Hob chuckles, pats Dream briefly on the shoulder.

"That's right! And it looks like you could definitely use a little help in that area!"

Dream face is aflame. He is aware of the aesthetic deficiencies of his own backside. He does not need them commented upon by a man unfairly blessed in that regard, in front of his sister, particularly not while he is struggling through a horny crisis over this same man. He seizes desperately for the thread of escape glimmering in the comment.

"You dare offer such insult to one who has come to your class for its benefits?" He stands upright as he says it, letting go the stupid pole and drawing haughty arrogance around him like a cloak to hide the tatters of his pride and composure. "How disappointingly unprofessional. Excuse me."

And he flees.

Technically, he strides from the gym area at a reasonable pace. But inside, he is running. He ignores Hob calling after him, ignores the voice in his own head screaming about how rudely he just treated the pretty man with the beautiful arse, ignores the other voice in his head that sounds like his sister scolding him and ducks into the nearest restroom.

He just needs. A moment.

He braces both hands on the sink, grateful there is no one here to see, hangs his head and lets regret wash over him.

He has ruined his chances, he is sure of it. Chances at what, he can't quite say; it's not as though he was planning to proposition Hob nor ask him out. Just. Quietly suffer through classes with his sister and silently ogle Hob for an hour three times a week, perhaps. If he is honest with himself. But Hob is certain not to want him in his class again, nor will his sister likely bring him back after how he has behaved today.

That's one problem solved, he thinks, bitterly.

He should apologize for his rudeness. But he will not interrupt Hob's class to do it. He must wait for Death regardless, and the fact that she has not stormed into the men's room after him means she thinks he needs time to nurse his wounds and pull himself together. So he will do so.

He turns on the tap, splashes water on his face, dries it with the length of paper towel the motion-sensitive dispenser offers him. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, his pale face splotchy and gaunt and sour, mouth pulled into an easy frown, and sighs.

No, he had no chances to ruin in the first place.

With a sigh, he turns away and leaves the washroom, retrieves his phone and wallet and Death's as well from their locker, then finds a seat at one of the little round tables in the juice bar area to wait. He checks his watch; the class is scheduled to run for another forty minutes.

It is a long time to sit alone with his thoughts; he opens the sudoku app on his phone, mindlessly working through puzzle after puzzle while he waits.

It has been just under thirty-five minutes when his brooding peace is disturbed.

"Dream, oh good." Incongruously it is Hob's voice, not his sister's. "DeeDee said you'd probably be here. I wanted to apologize."

None of these words are the ones Dream might have expected; he opens his mouth to reply but instead of something normal what comes out is, "But your class is not over?"

Hob blinks, looking as nonplussed as Dream feels. "Er. Not quite, no, but your sister offered to run everyone through cool-down so I could come find you."

"Why?" Why can he not stop his mouth running ahead of his thoughts, that is the true question.

"Like I said. I wanted to apologize." Hob shifts his weight awkwardly, drawing Dream's attention unhelpfully to the way his thin white shirt has gained additional transparency thanks to the half hour spent sweating in front of his class. "My comment was entirely unprofessional, you're right. And I'm sorry."

"It is not untrue." Dream's backside does indeed leave much to be desired in comparison to others. "But. I appreciate the apology." He appreciates the view of Hob's chest as well, but mercifully manages to hold his tongue on that count.

He does not quite manage to keep his eyes from flicking down to Hob's shorts, to the smoothness of the bulge artfully contained by the spandex.

Thong, he remembers, and his mouth again goes a little dry at the thought.

"May I sit?"

"Please." The rote answer is out before Dream can puzzle over why Hob wishes to join him.

Hob pulls out the other chair and drops into it, leans forward just a little. "Really, I'm sorry. I picked up the vibe of your sister's teasing and ran with it but I haven't known you long enough for that to be welcomed or appreciated. I was very much out of line. And I apologize."

"I. Apologize, as well. For speaking so harshly in front of others and making a scene." Dream is trying very hard to ignore the way his insides are wibbling at Hob's words, Hob's voice.

"What? Oh. No, no, it's forgotten, don't worry about it." Hob waves a hand dismissively. "My fault in the first place."

Dream lets the matter lie.

There is a moment of awkward silence.

"So. First time to class, huh?" Hob flashes a bright smile at him, quick and awkward and terribly endearing. "What did you think?"

"It was. Brief," Dream says, before he can think better of it, and Hob laughs.

Dream's stomach swoops helplessly, flutters in consternated delight. Oh. Oh, but he is utterly gone on the sunshine this man exudes.

"Sorry, sorry. Of course. You'd definitely need a full session before you could answer that; stupid question." Hob shakes his head, grin fading, hesitation creeping into his demeanor. "Do you think you'd want to come back again?"

"I am. Undecided," Dream admits, honesty seeing him through as he stumbles over the possibility—does Hob want him to come back? Is Hob hoping to see him again?

Is he willing to suffer a regular gym appointment for the possibility?

"Ah. Well." Hob sounds downright nervous now. "It would probably be…good if you didn't?"

"I beg your pardon?" Dream is so affronted at hearing it stated so plainly he forgets that he has earned the rejection.

Hob startles. "Crap, no, sorry! That didn't come out right." He laughs, a nervous awkward laugh, but his smile is still bright. "Let me try again—sorry. Sorry." He takes a deep breath. "I'd like—I'd like to ask you out. But if you're in a class that I'm teaching then ethically I probably shouldn't do that."

Dream is, metaphorically, knocked in his aesthetically-deficient arse yet again. "You wish to ask me out? On a date?"

"Yeah. Yes." Hob reaches to toy with his earlobe, head tilting into the unconscious motion adorably. "Your sister has told me a lot about you, been talking you up for months and you're very pretty and I would love to get to know you under more comfortable circumstances? If you're interested, of course. No hard feelings if you're not I know we've barely met and I've already put my foot in it many times over but. Could I possibly convince you to let me try again?"

Dream is impressed by the flood of words just tumbling freely forth, and a bit gobsmacked yet unsurprised at 'your sister's talked you up' even as the pieces begin to click into place—but most of all he's delighted that Hob seems interested in him, and charmed by the earnestness with which Hob's asking for a second chance.

As if Dream's little tizzy in the class had been anything more valid than a cover for his own embarrassment. As if Hob has anything to apologize for.

He will have words with his sister later, though.

"My sister. Is setting us up."

"I do believe that was her intention, yes." Hob looks hopeful. "I'm far from opposed, if you're alright with it?"

"Then. All things considered. I will not be returning to your class, Hob." He offers a smile that he hopes is friendly with an undercurrent of coyness, and not off-putting. He glances up from beneath his lashes to catch the way Hob is blinking, his grin broadening in delight.

"Really? Okay! Are you—are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

"I am. Where would you like to meet?"

"Merv's is a lovely quiet little pub not far from here—do you know it?"

"I do not."

"I'll text you the details then; it's relaxed and low-key but very nice, nothing terribly fancy but amazing food. And they accommodate allergies and dietary restrictions if those're a concern. Can I give you my number?"

"Of course." Dream opens a new contact and presents his phone; Hob types in his info with impressive speed and hands it back.

"Send me a text so I've got yours? My phone's still in the other room."

"Of course," Dream repeats, already composing the message as Hob stands from the small table. This is Dream—I look forward to our date tomorrow. Simple and to the point. Truthful and sincere. Nothing embarrassingly forward like the thoughts running rampant in his head. I want to rub my cheek in your sweaty chest hair like a cat. Or I would like to peel your shorts from your magnificent arse with my teeth. Surely that is too much for a first text preceding a first date. He will refrain.

"I've got another class to teach so I've got to run," Hob is saying as he pushes his chair back in. "But I'm delighted to have met you and I'm glad I won't be seeing you in class again, heh." He winks, an actual genuine wink that charms Dream all over again.

"As am I." He leaves it at that, never mind how badly he wants to say something smoky and lascivious about Hob giving him private instruction in whatever techniques he cares to demonstrate; he thinks that one of them might combust if he could deliver the line correctly, and possibly it would not be him. But he will save it for tomorrow evening, should the date go well. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it." Hob flashes his sunny smile again and turns, striding quickly back to the gym proper.

Dream watches him go, tight round arse and toned hairy thighs on perfect display, and shifts a little in his seat.

He has a feeling the date will go very well indeed.

= Started: 1/10/25 Drafted: 1/15/25 Posted: 1/20/25

It should be noted that I cannot vouch for whether or not the squat modification used herein is legit or safe. The validity of the exercise was obviously not the point of this fic, but, y'know. Just in case.

[irisintheafterglow]

hi iris i hope u have been well!!

wanted to request a little fluff/mutual pining moment between Satoru and reader who's also an instructor but they only ever get to see eachother during exchange events/higher up meetings/a mission every now and then (it's not for a lack of wanting to pursue eachother but neither of them have put in the effort bc they're both have commitment issues and deem themselves unworthy of trying) i think it would be soooo cute and i'm just dying to see Satoru and reader's students tease them about their VERY obvious chemistry... and hopefully something finally coming out of it in the end :-)

hehe thank u so much and as always you're the best!!

i hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this!

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: coworkers to lovers, idiots in love, reader and gojo have no idea what they're doing, swearing, mentions of drinking, fluffy fluffy fluff

note: hi anon! thank you so much for the ask, hope you like it!! i definitely got a little carried away writing it just because it's such a cute premise lol

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated !!

A piece of paper slides inconspicuously into your peripheral vision and it takes all of your willpower not to smirk. With equal nonchalance, you carefully peek under the ripped corner of the meeting agenda and can’t help smiling at the message scrawled on it. 

We’re drinking after this (not optional). 

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and see him leaning back in his office chair, arms crossed and looking like he’d rather be dipping his limbs in molten lava. Even with his blindfold, you can see the boredom in his expression and you bite your tongue to keep from laughing. His inability to appear professional was going to be the death of you both. 

“Gojo, are you listening?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” he says with blatant dishonesty that makes you bite your bottom lip and carefully observe the dusty ceiling tiles. “I was just in…deep thought.” He tastes the last two words like philosophies to be pondered and it suddenly becomes much harder to continue to have a blank expression. Their first mistake was picking a verbal fight with him. 

“Deep thought about what?” Their second mistake was letting him keep talking.  

“Ah, you know, the usual things.” You can feel his attention flick to you for a moment and it gives him a wave of confidence to continue to be a little pest at a meeting neither of you wanted to be attending. It was his favorite pastime, after all, to get you to smile at his shenanigans despite the bullshit you were hearing. “The meaning of life, the wonders of love,” he begins before his volume drops so that only you could hear it, “Why this couldn’t have been a fucking email–”

“What was that?” You suppress a snort into your fist and take a sip of water, hoping the other meeting attendees couldn’t see that you were tearing up from trying not to laugh. The angry-faced higher up scowls at him, catching the biting tone but not his words. Satoru merely smiles innocently, like every utterance was of the purest and most amicable intentions. 

“Nothing,” he sings and you cough into your sleeve to hide a laugh. The other higher ups with their ugly suits and balding heads look at you curiously, but all you can see is Satoru’s shit-eating grin from beside you. “I’m just worried for you, is all.” The higher-up at the front of the room scoffs, still believing the show. 

“Worried? For me?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his brows drawn in fake concern. “I just know you don’t have a lot of time left on this plane and, well, wonder why you’re choosing to spend it here,” he states with a vague gesture around the musty room. An embarrassing noise of amusement escapes from your throat and you try in vain to regain your composure, only to fall into a fit of uncontrollable coughing. Satisfied with his achievement, he abruptly stands from his chair and pulls yours away from the desk. “My work here is finished. We’re leaving.” His finger gently taps your shoulder twice and you obey, standing and heading for the door while he pushes in your chair behind you. The official at the front of the room has turned beet-red.

“The arrogance of you two–”

“We’re done here. If you say anything important, Ijichi will tell me. I doubt the possibility, though,” Satoru states with finality, opening the door for you and shooting the room of stunned officials one last smirk. Too lazy to walk through the winding halls or take the snail-paced elevator, a flick of your wrist opens a portal into an alley on the side of the building. Your colleague lets out a whistle of approval as your shoes cross from dirty carpet to asphalt, finally taking in fresh air after hours of sitting in the stale conference room. The moon shines in all of its winter glory and you shiver against the welcome chill, comforted by the chatter of the city’s nightlife. “Still up for that drink?”

“As long as you’re buying it,” you reply. “I’m gonna call the kids first and let them know I’m out.”

“Tell them I say hi,” he says without missing a beat, leaning against a nearby wall to wait for you to finish. Utahime picks up after two rings. 

“Hello? Ah, you’re finally done. That’s great!” Your coworker’s voice temporarily becomes muffled while she answers questions of who she’s talking to, followed by a chorus of your name imploring you to come back. “Everyone, say hi!” Your beloved students greet you enthusiastically and you smile at their enthusiasm. “Will you be on your way soon?”

“In a little,” you say, slightly sheepish as your eyes flick over to the man behind you. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“You’re going by yourself?” 

“Not exactly,” you answer slowly and the realization hits Utahime as she breaks out into a lecture on how Satoru isn’t good enough for you. “Easy, easy. It’s just a drink, nothing else.” Your whispered attempts to placate your friend’s indignance prove futile and you settle for letting her get all of her complaints out. 

“He’s a no-good playboy with a rock for a brain and a chatterbox of a mouth, you idiot,” she concludes after her lengthy rant. “I don’t want you getting hurt because he’s too scared to make any commitments.”

“I’m not making any commitments either, Utahime,” you remind her and you can imagine her rolling her eyes from the other side of the line. “It’s just a drink,” you reiterate, but you still hear her grunt of disapproval. “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she responds skeptically. “Don’t do anything dumb.” 

“Love you too, Utahime,” you laugh, hanging up the phone and sticking it back in your pocket. “Alright, let’s go,” you call to Satoru, who eagerly pushes off the wall and drags you out of the alley. “We haven’t eaten, so we’re getting dinner too.” 

“Whatever you want,” he grins. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t harbor some sort of romantic affections toward Satoru, but you were also resigned to the fact that you’d never act on it. He was the most powerful human being on the planet; how could you be worthy of loving such a man? Still, in times like this, where it was just the two of you walking hand-in-hand to who knows where, your mind tended to drift into thoughts of what could be if you weren’t in this line of work. It would be nice to love him, that’s all. Yeah, it’d be really nice to love him. 

You couldn’t explain any of this to your students the next morning, though, when they interrogated you on who you were with the entire night. When you let his name slip, the shock in the room was palpable. 

“See, I knew you guys had a thing for each other!” Miwa points her sword at you accusingly, far more fired up than you’d ever seen her before. “I thought I was the only one who noticed how he looked at you!”

“There is nothing of the sort, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you counter, pushing the sheathed blade to the side. Your other students fight back with full force. 

“It’s so obvious that he likes you,” Mai says, like it’s an insult. “Teasing you all the time? Making excuses to crash your meetings?”

“Bringing you lunch if he’s within a fifty mile radius of our campus,” Nishimiya adds and her classmates nod in agreement. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught him trying to surprise you by air?”

“That could be just part of a working relationship,” you argue, but they’re relentless. “How would you know anything about his intentions? Maybe he’s just being nice!”

“I believe his intentions with you are, indeed, romantic,” Kamo reiterates and you groan, hiding your burning face in your hands. “I can’t say I don’t see the vision. You’re a powerful duo.”

“Your marriage would make the brass shit themselves,” Mai muses with a cynical glint in her eye. “Can you imagine having a baby that can send Hollow Purple through a portal?”  

“Oh, their children would be so beautiful,” Miwa squeals and it’s like waterfalls of sweat come rushing from your forehead.

“Alright, alright. Let’s not talk about marriage or babies, please,” you cut in, quick to nip that conversation in the bud. You can’t tell if it’s the weather making your palms clammy or the unending tirade of comments about your dating life. “We can change the topic of conversation now,” you say in an attempt to get the heat off of you for a little bit. “Todo, how’s that idol you like so much doing?” It’s a good idea, initially, but the thought of you and Satoru together seemed to be brainwashed over your students.

“She’s wonderful, just as the two of you in love is a wonderful sight.” Todo can’t seem to help himself as he announces his enthusiasm for your romantic endeavors, teleporting across the room and swapping positions with his classmates from claps of pure excitement. Mechamaru provides a single thumbs-up when you look to him for support, and you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers.

“I think it’s cute how you act like you hate him and then can’t seem to stay away during events like this. Love is so complex,” Miwa sighs, resting her chin on her hand and staring off dreamily. You scoff, hoping they can’t tell how fast your heart rate has picked up. “I wish I were in love.”

“It’s not love. If anything, it’s just admiration. Yeah, it’s just admiration,” you conclude and you’re met with skeptical stares. 

“Yeah, admiration of his hot bod,” Miwa mutters and you open a portal without thinking, allowing some fat drops of rain from who knows where to fall on her head. It was a common form of discipline, summoning portals to unruly weather conditions, and your students sit up a little straighter in understanding. “Fine, okay, okay. I’m done.”

“You sure? If you’re not done, I’m gonna send you to the Amazon again.”

“Yes, fine. I’m done, I promise.”

“Done with what?” You stiffen, mentally kicking yourself for not registering his presence sooner. Had he not taken up your entire attention, you would have sent Miwa to South America for the gasp of excitement she let out when Satoru appeared. It seemed that none of you knew he was listening until he leaned against the doorframe, all six feet of height taking up the entire space. He was wearing his signature shit-eating grin that made you want to choke him with his own blindfold. “You gossiping in here?”

“Nope, just going over strategy,” you lie straight to his face and he hums, not believing you for a second. “Shouldn’t you be doing that, too? With your own students?” You stand and attempt to push him out of the room, only to find him completely immovable. His hand covers yours, lacing your fingers together in a way that makes you a little dizzy. 

“All in good time,” he says carefreely, as if the action with your hands was second-nature. “For now, can I steal you away for a moment? It won’t take long.” You can practically hear the waggling eyebrows from your students and nod, unable to form a biting response because of the crashing trains of thought in your mind. His hand remains holding yours as he all but pulls you outside, finally dropping it when the excited chatter of your students has subsided. “You okay? You seem a little frazzled,” he asks once you’re far enough from any eavesdropping attempts.

“Yeah, my kids are just being a little…funny, today,” you exhale, trying to hide your unease with a nervous giggle. “You know them; they love to make up their own little stories.” He raises his eyebrows in amusement, matching your pace as you walk down a random outdoor corridor of the Tokyo campus. 

“Mine have actually been doing the same thing,” he confesses after a brief moment of awkward silence. “Making speculations, drawing connections. Seems to be a good exercise in pattern-recognition.” You know he means it as a joke, but all you can think about is Miwa’s comment on admiring Satoru’s ‘hot bod.’ Had his students picked up on your behavior, too?

“What are some of these connections they’re drawing?”

“Connections about my behavior around…hmm,” his voice trails off and the corner of his mouth turns down into a frown, like he was unhappy with his students’ observations. “They’ve noticed things about the way I, well,” he stammers and for the first time, you witness Gojo Satoru get tongue-tied. “Somethings that they’ve seen and heard and–”

“Satoru.” You halt both of your strides and cross your arms defensively over your chest, slightly uncomfortable from Satoru’s inability to express himself when he would otherwise be talking your ear off. “What is this about?”

“My students know I like you,” he states bluntly and your heartbeat momentarily stops pounding in your ears. His students know that he what? “And they also theorize,” he stops to clear his throat, adjusting his collar and avoiding your eyes, “that you may reciprocate the same feelings.” Any words that you can form get caught in your throat, an odd mixture of happiness, shock, and pure dread stirring around in your brain. All you could do is blink at him, dumbly, while he shifts between the balls of his feet. “Please, say something.”

“You like me,” you repeat, tasting the words like a fancy wine you’ve never tried before breaking out into the widest smile you’ve ever felt. “Holy shit, you like me?”

“You’re smiling,” he states, still trying to process what was happening. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Holy shit, you like me!” Your voice raises on its own and you take a step back in surprise, covering your face with your hands to try and contain your emotions. “What the fuck, Satoru?”

“Yeah, that’s,” he mumbles as he watches you celebrate, “that’s how I’m feeling too.” 

“Wait, so what do we do now?” 

“I have no idea. I didn’t expect to get this far,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck and combing his fingers through his hair. “I was waiting for you to slap me and tell me to go to hell.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I didn’t think you liked me back,” he sputters and the joy in both you and Satoru’s chests finally breaks loose in a fit of unending laughter. “Holy shit, I was so worried for nothing.”

“They’re gonna be so excited when we get back, they won’t be able to focus on the Exchange Event.”

“I don’t think I can focus on the Exchange Event.”

“Then we can postpone it!” You both flinch as a voice that was definitely not one of yours calls from behind a nearby wall, followed by a terrified oh, shit! as Satoru goes barreling around the corner and drags out the culprits by the collars of their shirts. Yuuji, the pink-haired student from Tokyo, and Miwa both try to explain themselves as they dangle weightlessly from Satoru’s hands. “Gojo, sir, we swear we weren’t trying to–”

“Hold on,” you pause Yuuji’s explanation, sensing some extra energy signatures that weren’t succeeding at hiding themselves. “Come out now, or I’m opening the portal to the Arctic,” you command in the open air and watch the leaves rustle as the rest of the Tokyo and Kyoto students fall from a nearby tree. “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” you chuckle as Nishimiya picks a few branches from Mai’s hair. “Go clean yourselves up and then we can begin the games.”

“You free this weekend after the games to go someplace?” Satoru whispers in your ear once all of the students are gone. “I need a break from the prying eyes of teenagers.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[carlsdarling]

hgnnn mouth fucking desperate baby boy Carl w ur fingers while he rides ur thigh 🤤

Thigh Riding

Carl desperately needs some stress relief and Y/N helps him out… Minimal plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw

You were lying with Carl, your best friend, on his bed; the two of you were reading some comics. You found it rather boring, but Carl couldn't get enough of it, so you did him the favor. He pointed to the newly turned page and laughed, and you gave a somewhat pained grimace. "That's funny," Carl opined. His breath smelled of the blue bubble gum he was constantly chewing.

"Yeah, maybe," you replied wearily.

Carl turned the pages undaunted as your eyelids drooped; you hadn't slept well the previous night. You flinched as Carl's breath brushed hotly over your neck and he pressed rhythmically against your left thigh. "What are you doing?" you asked, amused.

Carl cringed, startled. His face was flushed, his eye somehow hazy. "Nothing," he claimed sheepishly.

"Yes, you did, you rubbed against me," you said reprovingly. "What's that?" You pointed at his crotch, chuckling.

Carl tried with little success to hide his boner. "Sorry," he mumbles. "It won't happen again."

"Go on," you urged him, stroking tenderly through his hair.

"Sure?" he assured himself.

"Yes. I don't mind."

Carl returned to his previous position and hesitantly began grinding against your thigh again. You were wearing only shorts, it was a strange sensation, and you had to giggle again. Carl moaned softly as his movements increased in intensity. You glanced at him, he had his eye closed, his lips were slightly parted, a strand of saliva was visible. Playfully, you wiped it away, and slid your index finger into Carl's mouth. His lips closed around your finger, and he began to suck as he rubbed against you harder and faster. You felt his dick twitch, then Carl's body tensed, moaning with a whimper, he bit your finger lightly, and a warm wetness spread on the skin of your thigh.

Carl's breathing was heavy, and his face was sweaty as he lay down next to you, your finger slipped out of his mouth, and you looked at the teeth marks on it. "Really, Carl," you scolded jokingly, pointing to his jeans where there was a damp dark stain.

Embarrassed, Carl hid his cute face in your neck curve, pecking little kisses on your delicate skin. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said breathlessly. "I needed that."

"You're welcome, Carl," you said, kissing him on the tip of his nose and on his lips.

--

(yes my writing is really short these days bc I am still not allowed to sit for longer periods.)

Tags: @loveforcarl @knochentrocken0808 @enid-rhees-wife

[sundaechaos]

sydcarmy fics recs (i love-love this)

hi! hello! so, i was thinking that i read most of the fics on the tag of sydcarmy on ao3 and i need to share my favorites ones (and bc i keep forgetting to add to bookmark, so maybe is better here)

(not specific order, i just love to read and everything in the sydcarmy tag is perfect; if you know the tumblres or twitter dm me I'll put here)

pink for the au's

purple for the canon-divergence

orange for multiworks

quick note: most of this are the very first fics i read when the hiperfixation with sydcarmy entered to my life, enjoy!!!!!!!!!

You Were Bigger Than The Whole Sky by @sofaroffbway

A conversation with her father forces Sydney to confess the only thing she is still hiding from Carmy. He needs to know. They are getting married after all. | #finish

Hands Full of Plates by @Thesuncameout

The first year of The Bear, through the eyes of its Chef de Cuisine and Executive Chef. | #finish

Normal People by @cryobabyy

What is he to her anyway? He feels like her boss when he tells her what to do. When he doesn’t break eye contact as he asks for her input on the new menu, he feels like a business partner. When his hand ghosts against her lower back and his thumb slips under her sweatshirt, it’s an accident. He was just trying to get by; just a polite nudge, right? (Little blurbs of Carmy and Syd falling in love and being idiots about it) | #ongoing(please, come back)

Oyster Knife by @purposechef

Sydney Adamu seeks answers. / note: and every fic written by purposechef, but this have a special place in my heart, is everything that i love of sydney and carmy. | #finish

Take Care by @purposechef

Ingredients: - 1 culinary school dropout - 1 recently fired CDC - 48 hours in New York City

Steps: 1. Have a panic attack; drop out of culinary school. 2. Accidentally become the head food critic of the New York Times. 3. Write a review that gets the CDC of Eleven Madison Park fired. 4. Let sit until you have an emotionally unwieldy mess. | #finish

The Wild, Wild Berry by @Blissymbolics

The elderberries were undercooked, rendering them toxic. She finds Carmen helpless on the bathroom floor. Her fingertips tingle with the desire to comb his sweat-drenched hair. It’s embarrassing; it’s beneath her. But still, there’s something sweet in his weakness. He trusts her to keep the world running in his absence, and feed him when his appetite returns. | #finish

Fundamentals for the Fun and Mental by @bioloyg

It's been weeks since Carmen Berzatto found himself locked in the walk-in on the opening night of The Bear, but if you asked him, he'd tell you it felt like it happened yesterday. If you asked anyone else... well, they'd tell you these past few weeks have felt like a lifetime. Which is exactly why Sydney and Natalie decide to send Carmen on vacation. | #finish

The Million Little Things by @peachybunnybabie

The relationship of Carmen and Sydney. | #multiworks

Don't leave me now, you might love me back by @adogwithabirdatyour_door

for you i am a child, believing: It’s been a while since something like this happened.

snow is outside but i'm by your fire (i feel all the love you bring): they're always staring.

faithful friends who are dear to us (will be near to us once more): Or, the first time Sydney really felt like part of the family.

it's a lot to ask of me (to believe in you): In the midst of an early-relationship fight, Carmy gets sick. Sydney has a lot to think about.

kill the doubt that strangles my self worth (paint the picture that i swore i heard): Hosting a dinner party stirs up old memories for Carmy

you change all the lead, sleeping in my head: The question slips out without her permission, spoken with the same candor she’d used to ask him if he wanted a dog.

you say you wanna stand by my side (darlin' your head's not right): Sydney is a supporting gf.

To be continued...(like Storer playing with me at the final of s3)

[omoghouls]

I did have an omo dream abt Zev last night tho-

Emmrich brought him to the tombs/cemetery because he had some rituals or work to do, and Zev tagged along (bc/ he's a supportive boyfriend and likes how calm the necropolis is).

Anyways, Zev REALLY had to pee. Like, clenching his thighs every couple seconds and "Oh God I'm going to piss myself" kind of urge.

But, he knows the grounds are sacred and that of the dead, and he needs to be respectful. So he can't just haul off and take a leak behind a tombstone- but he also doesn't want to interrupt Emmrich's work to ask where exactly one takes a leak in the Necropolis

He's never had to hold it this long- the elf is practically squirming where he stands as he stiffly nods while Emmrich is explaining why these certain flowers grow here and what benefit they have-

ofc Zev thinks he's being slick, that it isn't obvious,,,,until he feels a gloved hand tugging on his sleeve and the unmistakable croaking voice of Manfred.

"Pee?"

Zev's face burns hotter than any flame - at this exact moment, he wished Manfred couldn't speak beyond hisses. Emmrich looks up from his floral talk, and his eyes soften as he stands.

"Oh, darling," Emmrich gently touches Zev's shoulders.

It's obvious to Emmrich that Zev can not hold it until they make it to a proper washroom. Emmrich looks around the cemetery for a moment before signaling Manfred.

"Manfred? Could you be a dear and grab that vase? The one that's laying beside Agatha's spot?"

Manfred happily brings it over. Emmrich takes the vase with a thanks as he looks back at the elf.

"Now, may I?" He says, his free hand now on Zev's pants.

As embarrassing as this is. Zev knows it's either this or pissing himself. So, he gives a little nod. Shuddering when he feels his lower half exposed to the cool air of the area as Emmrich nudges Zev's thighs to part enough to place the vase between.

He barely needs permission before urine echoes as it fills the vase. Emmrich's hand is sturdy as it holds the filling container and keeps Zev steady as he is blissed out on letting his bladder empty.

Zev hides his face in the nape of Emmrich's neck because, sure, pissing on the ground is one thing he's chill with, but having his lover essentially aid him in peeing is a new thing for him-

Something something Zev almost over fills the vase, and Emmrich praises him for going but also lightly chastising Zev for not telling him he needed to go earlier-

[sugar-omi]

I thought today's post would be pretty short n it turned out long.. just like yesterday.... I am so feral

DAY SIX — CROSS DRESSING

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, gn + dom reader, reader is a streamer, you use a dildo & flesh light on cove, sorry you don't get to fuck him today. TMRW THO!!! be excited bc ik i am...

synopsis : cove tries on a skirt because of what you said on stream. you both like way more than you thought you would.

"i can't believe you went behind my back for something like this…"

cove squirms in your lap, embarrassed with all the attention on him. "i just.. i wanted to surprise you…"

you take his face in your hands, making him look at you. fuck he's so cute with those wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

"i'm very surprised.. i can't even remember when i said that on stream, yet here you are.." you trail your hand up his thigh. "in a skirt. just because i said i'd like it."

cove flushes and leans in to steal a kiss.

you indulge him, letting him lose himself in your lips, slipping your tongue into his mouth and enjoying how he moans lowly.

you slip your hand further up his thigh until you're edging the seam of his boxers, climbing up until your reach his bulge.

he gasps, breaking the kiss. "ah- what are you- oh fuck!"

you grin at his range of emotions in such a short time, pulling out his cock to give it well deserved attention.

"you look so pretty…" you praise, mesmerized with how good your boyfriends dick looks while in a skirt.

cove looks down, his fingers tightly holding onto your shoulders while you stroke his cock.

"don't you think so, covey? ah, you're getting it messy already.." you pout, his pre getting on the underside of the skirt.

you hum and usher your boyfriend off your lap and onto the bed.

"what.. what are you doing?" cove asks, anxious about what you're going to produce from your shared toy box.

you come back with your winnings, dropping them on the bed.

"you don't mind if i play with you a bit, right baby?"

cove swallows, shaking his head.

"good. let's start with this first…" you grab the lube and a condom, spreading the liquid over your fingers before lining it up with your boyfriends hole.

cove groans, fisting the sheets.

you curl your digits against his walls, eliciting a loud moan. you must've hit a good spot.

you slowly spread him open with your fingers, purposefully curling them against his gummy walls.

cove is shaking, his toes curling and he starts grinding back. "i'm gonna.."

you pull your fingers out, your boyfriend whining at the loss. "don't worry, i'm about to give you something better.."

cove watches, swallowing, as you prepare the dildo.

it's his favorite, with a nice curve and a thick vein going up the underside of the shaft.

you hold his legs open, lining up the toy with his puffy rim and easing in the fat tip of the toy,

cove moans loudly at the intrusion, easily taking half the toy.

"you look so pretty.." you praise, stroking cove's cock.

you're making an even bigger mess of his skirt, his cock dripping pre all over the pelts.

"i'm gonna put the rest in." the toy gets fatter at the base, beautifully stretching cove open and drawing out a loud whine when it bumps against his prostate.

cove calls your name weakly, clinging onto the pillows.

you lean up to kiss him, distracting him by slipping your tongue into his mouth as you slowly start thrusting the toy in and out of his ass.

"ahh!" he moans, his legs shaking and you have to force his legs back open when he tries to close them.

"don't close your legs, baby. c'mere, look at how pretty you look getting your ass fucked."

cove whimpers at the dirty talk, his dick twitching in response, and he looks down to see you fucking him with the toy.

"y/n…" he breathily calls out, twisting to hide his face in the pillow.

you nip at his inner thighs, sucking beautiful red hickeys into his bronzed skin. a little treat for both of your eyes later.

remembering you still have one toy left, you abandon his quivering thighs, much to his relief, and you reach for the flesh light.

while your boyfriend is distracted, you line the toy up with his dick, spearing the toy open with his weeping cock.

he yells, his face falling from out it's hiding spot in the pillows and he looks down, seeing you easily fucking him with the you and still bullying his insides with the dildo.

"ah, there's your beautiful face." you coo, smiling at how he looks at you with watery eyes. "aw, don't fret. doesn't it feel good? here, fuck yourself with the flesh light, you can't make me do all the work."

he shakily takes ahold of the toy, slowly dragging it up and down his cock with a furious blush.

"you can do better than that, can't you? you wanted to surprise me, so why don't you give me a show."

cove licks his lips, panting. but he obeys, fucking the toy faster and moaning loudly, his hips bucking.

the dildo brushes against his g-spot again, making him tremble at the double stimulation.

"y/n!" he fumbles for your hand, and you coo, uttering praises to you boyfriend, telling him how pretty he is and how good he's doing for you.

"i'm.. i'm gonna cum.." he pants, arching his hips up to fuck into the fake pussy, his eyes rolling back when you slam the dildo into him, the base stretching him open pleasantly.

"good boy. go ahead and cum for me." you egg him on, coming up to suck and bite on his chest, using your free hand to tweek his pierced nipple.

he groans, his hips stuttering and he calls your name, his back arching and forcing the dildo deeper, subconsciously holding the flesh light down as he cums deep inside it..

you let go of his sensitive chest to kiss him, your lips softly and mindlessly moving together.

suddenly an alarm goes off, the signature tone being the one you use to notify you of your stream.

"oh." you pull back. you completely forgot you had a stream right after you got home…

cove looks at you with hooded eyes, his lips swollen from biting them.

"y'know what.. i want you to keep this in." you tap the base of the dildo, making cove jump. "and if you don't cum or fuck yourself without my permission, i'll fuck you."

cove pouts, "but…"

you tut, "no buts, i want to enjoy you to the fullest, but this is a sponsored stream. so just be a good boy, and i'll take care of you…"

you kiss away his pouting face, and when you pull back he nods obediently.

"good boy.." you reach for the flesh light and drag it off his half hard cock, enjoying the shaky whine that comes from his lips.

the fake cunt slowly drips cum from its entrance, dripping on his skirt.

you put it to the side, leaving it for cove to pick up, and take his boxers off the end of the bed and help him tug them back up his legs.

once he's all set and ready to go. well, as much as he can be with a dildo in his ass and shaky legs.

you smack his butt, enjoying the loud yelp and scandalized look he throws you over his shoulder.

"you have to be quiet while i stream. if you do fuck yourself with or without my premission, and you get loud," you whisper in his ear. "everyone in my stream will hear you… so be good, okay?"

he nods, his smile wobbly and his cheeks flushed.

you doubt he's going to keep his composure, but worse comes to worse, you'll just have to take a "water break" during stream…

[frogwithgun]

You know what screw this

Y'all are getting a modern no curses au with Satosugu bc the idea just won't leave my head

Enjoyyyyyy

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

There's a small corner store tucked away in a fairly busy part of the city. One that not many people frequent. But one that pays exceptionally well. This is the store Geto works at. Where he has worked for the past three years.

He doesn't mind it. He rather likes working there. Sometimes. Lately he's stopped liking it so much. The new manager is an asshole and thinks Geto looks unprofessional. Says all his piercings and tattoos drive away costumers.

If anything, they do the opposite. So many giggling school girls come in because they think he has a sort of bad boy charm to him. Of course he never tells the girls he isn't. And he never tells the girls hes not into girls either.

He would rather keep that to himself. Seeing how his last relationship left him as a single father. That prick left his daughters with him. But on the bright side, they are now his pride and joys.

Since then he's been on his own with his twin girls. Nanako and Mimiko. He loves them dearly. Like they were his own. They are why he forces himself to keep working at this dammed corner store.

Geto checks the clock again. This stupid job makes him go insane. But there's nothing he can do about it. He needs this job. So he forces another smile onto his face. If you can make it through this last customer, you can go home to the girls. He tells himself.

The next customer walks up to the counter as he's putting money into the register. So he starts up his usual little speech that he's memorized from the years of working there.

"Hello. Did you find everything you-" And he stops in his tracks. He actually stops. Because standing in front of him is the prettiest boy he thinks he's ever seen. Actually, the prettiest man he thinks he's ever seen.

He looks expensive. Dressed head to toe in some brands Geto has never even heard of. But he's sure they must have cost more than his apartment alone. I mean, how do you even say that brand? He has no idea!

The man has a slight shine to his lips. Pretty and pink. His hair is such an unusual color. A bright white that almost shines. And his eyes are covered by sunglasses, which do little to hide the amusement that dances in them.

Geto then thinks he must look awfully plain compared to him. Dressed in his work uniform and looking rather dull. His hair pulled into a lazy ponytail with all those piercings and tattoos on display.

Geto clears his throat and looks away. "Everything you were looking for?" He says in a calm voice. One that doesn't reflect how his heart pounds in his chest. Geto wonders why he looks so familiar. Has he met him before? Probably not.

The man chuckles and crosses his arms. "Almost. There's one thing I just couldn't find." Geto nods. "I'm sorry to hear that." Pull yourself together Suguru! This is embarrassing. Even for you.

God how long has it been since he last went on a date? Far to long. "Maybe you could help me find it?" Geto looks up at the man again. And then immediately regrets his decision. Has his face always felt this hot? Has it always been this red?

Geto nods. "Of course. What are you looking for?" The man smiles. A smile that Geto swears he's seen somewhere before. "Well, I was just looking for your number." And that, that makes Geto let out a noise somewhere between a squeal and a choke.

The man laughs and again Geto swears he's heard it before. "I'm sorry. I don't give out my number while I'm working." An automatic response that Geto has said a million times over. And a response he now wishes he didn't automatically give.

He would have given the man his number in a heartbeat. If his manager wasn't watching him like a hawk from the break room. God that man freaked him out sometimes.

The white haired man nods and puts a hand over his heart. "Ouch. I'm hurt. Suguru?" He says reading Getos name tag. Geto heart races even more. "Geto Suguru. A lovely name." Geto smiles and then immediately looks away. "Thank you." He mutters.

The man chuckles and nods. "No no, thank you. You don't see such a handsome man every day." He winks and Geto smiles. A smile that makes the other man stop. "Oh woah woah woah!" He takes his sunglasses off and reveals a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

They look almost like a clear sunny day. And Geto swears he could get lost in them. "You gotta warn a man before smiling like that." Geto laughs and begins to ring up his items. "Sorry. I didn't know smiling would startle you." He grins.

"Startle? No that was lethal." Geto smiles again. The man pays for his items and Geto bags them up. "Have a good night sir." He nods. "I definitely will now." He winks again and then leaves.

It is only after the man has payed for his things that Geto realizes who he is. When he is home. In his apartment. Sitting on the couch. With the girls. Then does he remember where he's seen that smile before. Where he's heard that laugh before.

"Oh my fucking God." He mutters and buries his head into his hands. The girls look at him in confusion. Geto looks at the girls and groans. "Gojo fucking Satoru asked for my number." Nanakos jaw drops. And Mimiko laughs.

Then Nanako shots up from her spot on the couch. "As in CEO of Six Eyes Inc. Gojo Satoru!?" Geto nods and Mimiko squeals. "Oh my God! Dad he likes you!" Geto, however, cannot share in their excitement.

And they notice. Of course they do. "Dad? What's wrong?" Geto lays face first onto the couch and loudly groans. Immediately the girls know what this means. "Dad. You cannot be serious."

Geto nods. "I told him I couldn't give out my number." Mimiko gently rubs his back while Nanako just sighs. "It's ok dad. Maybe he'll come back." Nanako on the other hand just goes on about how that was a stupid decision.

That night Geto spends far to much time watching romcoms with the girls. And eating ice cream. As per the girls request. And maybe to drown out the stupid decisions he made.

-----------

"Sir!" Cries a startled Ijichi. "You're back!" Gojo looks at him and nods. "Reports?" Ijichi nods and with a shaking voice tells him the results of this years fiscal quarter while Gojo sits at his desk.

Yet Gojo cannot pay attention. He finds himself thinking back to that encouter he had. In that small corner store. He'd passed by it a million times. Seeing that clerk there every time. Today he had finally talked to him. And he can't stop thinking about it.

Or those purple eyes. He takes his sunglasses off and rests his chin on the palm of his hand. A far off look in those blue eyes of his. "I'm attractive right?" Ijichi looks up from the reports and at Gojo. "I mean, I know I am."

Gojo stands up and walks over to the window. "People practically line up for even a moment of my time." Ijichi cannot tell where this conversation is going. "And they would trip all over themselves to give me their numbers, right?" Ijichi nods. Still unable to tell where this is going.

Gojo turns to look at him and Ijichi jumps again. His usual smile looks so forced. And that carefree look in his eyes is gone. "So why is it that I was rejected? Have I lost my touch? Am I not to the public's standards? What is it that is so unappealing about me?"

Ah, there is it. Ijichi thinks over his words very carefully. Gojo has been know to have sort of a temper. "Not at all s-sir! They must be a fool!" Gojo nods and sits at his desk again. "You're right. They must be." Gojo smiles again. "Ah Ijichi, what would I do without you!" That carefree look is back and Ijichi let's out a breath of relief.

But it isn't enough for Gojo. "Maybe I'll just buy the corner store. What was the name again? Doesn't matter. Ijichi? Make a deal with the owner. ASAP, yeah?" Ijichi nods. Gojo has also been rather impulsive. Nothing new of course.

And as for the girls, they have devised a plan to get Gojo and Geto together. It'll just take some time. And a whole lot of patience.

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

Tada! What do we think? Don't be afraid to let me know! I love all the notes and reblogs but I'd also like to hear your thoughts specifically.

I might also have a part two cooking up in here. But that depends on if this does well. If it does then part two will come out as fast as I can make it.

Love you guys! 💚💚

[daydreamgoddess14]

Hiii

Noticed Im equally obsessed w slow horses and I love your FICS soooo I just want to ask if you could do a River x Sid fic bc I love their chemistry but there isn't enough to read ABT them :(((

Prompt: After everything that's happened in Slough house, River and Sid are back at the park (and are kinda legends BC they've been through it and survived etc). New co-worker has a thing for Sid and keeps making a pass at her despite being constantly shot down. He notices River is always in the background fuming whenever he's with her and would comes up to her after he's gone so he clocks that River must be into her too.

So to get him out the picture he tried to embarrass him at a meeting by "accidentally" revealing Rivers interest in her and tries to make him look like a creep by saying that he's noticed that River has some of her possessions/knows personal info ABT Sid that no co-worker should.

At the end of it all Sid raises a hand and points to her engagement ring on her finger while River looks all smug and hot (sorry I couldn't resist) at the end if the table

Turns out the entire office already knew ABT them BC they have functioning eyes, also he's new and didn't know. To make things worse Lady Di calls him out for stalking and harassing his co-workers, turns out the entire office has been watching him make a fool of himself the whole week but they were starved for entertainment so no one said anything.

Later we get a snapshot of River and Sid just laughing ABT it back at home and a little domestic fluff.

Sorry ik it's long and feel free to take any liberties (no smut tho pls) I just miss them SM

Tysm for reading this through, if you don't want to write it pls do lmk BC I'll be at the edge of my seat for weeks waiting in suspense otherwise ❤️❤️

Hi love! I'm so sorry this took so long - thank you for your patience 🥰

Hope you enjoy this cute little one-shot!

River Cartwright x Sid Baker fluff

The Bet

“Got you a tea, Sid,” he smiled earnestly.

“Ah, thanks Luke. Need this,” she inhaled, savoring the warmth on her face. 

“Late night?” He queried. 

“Not especially,” she blushed.

“Not out on the town then?”

“Nah, just a quiet one at home. Got a bit competitive over Monopoly.”

“Flatmates eh, who'd have ‘em.” 

“Yeah,” she looked up briefly as River used the shortcut through her office to the stairs. “Especially when they forget to wash up.”

She didn't miss the glare River shot Luke on his way past. 

“Need anything?” He asked, “just popping to the shop.” 

“No thank you,” Sid arched an eyebrow and River disappeared down the stairs. 

She looked back to Luke, still eagerly perched on the edge of his desk. 

“How about you?”

“Oh, I’m rubbish at Monopoly.”

Sid laughed politely,

“I meant did you do anything?”

“Nah, quiet night. No one's got any money in January anyway.”

“Oh, for sure.” She toyed with her necklace. 

“Better get on, Lamb needs these files sorting.”

“He's all bark and no bite really.”

“Only to you. Loves you, don't he?” Luke settled back at his desk, looking distracted, “and Cartwright,” he added darkly. 

“I'm not sure if I'd stretch to love.” She grinned. “We're just old guard around here, that's all.”

The lower door banged and River bounced up the stairs two at a time. 

He used their office as a shortcut again and dropped a chocolate bar on Sid's desk. 

This time, Luke was the one shooting daggers at River's back as he left. 

“Can I ermm… can I walk you to the tube later?”

“Oh, River and I are going for a drink with Lou, actually.”

“Maybe I could tag along?”

“Maybe not, mate, eh?” River spoke up, appearing in the doorway again. “It's an old guard thing, y'know?” 

Luke frowned. 

“Right.” He turned to Sid. “Another time then, Sid? Yeah?”

She pursed her lips, hiding her smile.

“Yeah, maybe. We'll see.” She checked her watch, “Ah shit, I'm late for Catherine. Play nice you two.” She grabbed her laptop and headed for the top floor. 

“Give up, Lukey. She's not interested,” River warned. 

“You've just been resigned to the friendzone, mate,” Luke stressed. “Time to let someone else have a go.” 

“Have a go? Interesting way of putting it. I'm sure Sid'd like that.”

Luke scoffed.

“Oh come on, as if you know any better than I do what she likes? You just like to think you know.” Luke rose from his desk chair to full height, which was still a couple of inches shorter than River. “You're just another reject, you're no more special than anyone else here.”

River smiled and dragged his hand over his lengthening beard. 

“Including you then, right? Since you're here as well. Be interested to know how you wound up here, I bet that's a story.” 

So far, Luke had managed to persuade Ho to keep the reason he was at Slough House under wraps from everyone else by turning up with a fresh case of Red Bull every few days. 

“You're probably right, though,” River continued “I haven't got a clue, really. About Sid, about this place… just another reject, exactly like you said.”

Luke nodded firmly. Victorious despite his unease. 

Cartwright was a different breed. 

Always watching him, always listening, always there. 

The closer Luke got to asking Sid out, the quicker Cartwright was there to insert himself into the conversation. 

Luke hated having competition. 

Not that Cartwright could ever be considered competition. 

There was something, though. 

The cause of the unease that Luke had been able to pinpoint. 

He didn’t give up.

Tenacious, his mum called him.

Pigheaded. Stubborn. Obstinate. 

Those tended to be the words others banded around instead. 

Ex-girlfriends in particular. 

River was stubborn though. 

And occasionally pigheaded. 

Sid didn’t seem to brush him aside so easily. 

So Luke dug in. 

Tried again.

~~~~~~

“Got you a tea, Sid.” He placed it carefully on her desk amidst the piles of paper dotted around. 

Next to it, he put a chocolate bar. The same one he’d seen River leave for her a few days previously.

“Thanks, Luke. Blimey, I’m slacking on the office tea front. Sorry, just really trying to understand…” her voice trailed off as she continued reading without looking up at him. She held the pendant on the chain around her neck, he hadn’t actually seen the necklace. It was either hidden by her clothes, or she was holding it as if it’d fall right off her. “Yeah,” she looked up at last, “sorry, like I said, this stuff is really detailed. Just trying to get my head around it. Oh! Chocolate. Was that you?” 

He nodded, then realised he probably looked like a puppy or a child.

“Yeah, thought you might need a pick up.”

“God, I really do. Forgot lunch today, no bread.”

“Those bloody flatmates again?”

“Something like that,” she held up her hand, waited, and then sneezed. “Got a cold as well, helpfully.”

“Well, I can always go and get you something -” as Luke extended his offer, River breezed through the office and put a pot of steaming soup on Sid’s desk, along with a box of flu tablets.

“Amazing, I’m dying,” she looked up at him, her nose red.

“I know. It’s from Mrs Li downstairs, she said it’s great for a cold.”

“Maybe this stuff is the reason Lamb is never ill.” She wondered, prising off the lid and inhaling the steam that billowed up.

“More than likely,” he agreed, taking one of the largest piles of paperwork from Sid’s desk. “I’ll take these.”

"Oh, the great Cartwright, always the first to volunteer for extra work. Must be trying to impress someone." Luke grumbled.

"Says the guy who spends more time talking than working. Don't you have something better to do, like staring at the back of Sid's head?"

“Alright you two, I’m too full of cold to deal with your shit today. Another word and I’ll make sure you both get struck down by it as well.”

Luke sunk back in his chair, glaring at River who gave him the finger and took himself back to his own office.

“He’s always skulking around,” he muttered once River had gone.

“Is he?” Sid asked, cautiously taking a sip of her soup.

“You haven’t noticed?”

“We’ve worked together a long time, I guess I don’t notice.” She smiled.

“So, about that drink?”

“What drink?” “The one we were going to get together?”

Sid blinked.

“Honestly Luke, I feel like I’ve been run over. I just want to go to bed and sleep for a week. I’m definitely not up for a drink.”

“Right. Yeah, course. Maybe when you feel better.”

She hummed and went back to her soup.

By mid afternoon, she was, as River put it, ‘on her arse’.

“Go home, get some rest. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” He ordered. 

Luke rolled his eyes.

“She’s not a kid, Cartwright.”

“Thanks for your input, stalker.”

Sid raised a hand to stop the arguing, but dropped it straight away. River held her coat open.

“I’ll walk you to the tube, Sid.” Luke started.

“It’s ok, my car is downstairs. I’ll drive.” River interrupted, his mouth in a firm like. “Come on, you’ll be home in ten minutes, I promise.”

“I live twenty minutes away,” she sighed, her brow furrowed and her voice laced with exhaustion.

“Only when you’re driving,” he teased lightly. Sid leaned into him and he shot a smug grin over her head at Luke, who scowled back. 

By the time River had made the round trip, Luke was making coffee.

He placed a mug next to Luke’s in front of the kettle, helped himself to the instant coffee, and continued through to his office to take off his coat. 

"You really think you stand a chance with Sid?” He asked as he came back.

“Yeah, actually. I do.”

“Bit full of yourself, aren't you?"

"At least I'm not just sitting back and letting her slip through my fingers. I'm actually taking a chance. Unlike you, who's just too afraid to make a move."

River frowned, searching his pockets for something.

"Oh yeah, and how's that working out for you? She's still not interested in you, is she?” He looked victorious as he pulled a delicate gold necklace from his shirt pocket.

Luke stared at what he knew, he knew, was Sid’s necklace.

He watched River put it safely back in his pocket.

“She’s interested. She just don’t want to deal with you having a shitfit over it.”

River shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Can’t wait to see you cry when you find out I got her into bed.” Luke grinned. “Kettle’s boiled.”

“Changed my mind. Just got to go out, actually. Don’t form a harem or anything while I’m gone. Lou, Catherine, even Shirley. I bet they’re all dying to jump into bed with you.”

Luke stepped forward into River’s space.

“You need to be knocked down a bit, mate. Think you’re king of the fuckin’ castle ‘ere, don’t you?”

“Nah, not at all. I’m just not a complete twat.” River sneered.

“Sometimes you are. Friend.” Louise nudged past him to get into the kitchen.

“Thanks, friend.” He acknowledged, turning from Luke with a final glare.

“He’s got Sid’s necklace,” Luke said once he heard the lower door slam.

“Has he?” Louise asked distractedly.

“Yeah, I saw it.”

She looked up at him and stared for a moment before shrugging.

“I didn’t see anything.”

~~~~~~

“Who’s got the traffic offence files?” Shirley asked, reading over Catherine’s shoulder.

“I think Louisa had them,” Sid offered as Louisa nudged the door with her foot and came through with a tray of mugs.

“I did have that one, but I gave it to Ho to run plates.”

“All done,” Ho held up a file and passed it to Catherine with one hand, while reaching for his coffee with the other. “Did ya bring biscuits Guy?”

“Kitchen, get them yourself.”

Their weekly office meeting was in full swing, and the team was discussing the progress on some ongoing projects. 

“Alright, next on the list -” Shirley looked again at Catherine’s list.

“Shirley, could we just wait til everyone’s here and I can go through things properly?”

“Soz, just trying to get this torture over with,” she grumbled, dropping into a chair.

“It’s over when I say so,” Lamb told her firmly, taking a seat at the head of the table. “Right, Standish, let’s get this crap over with.”

“See!” Shirley exclaimed. 

Lamb looked over the top of his glasses.

“Dander has volunteered for the 1992 file.” He told Catherine, who made a note. 

Everyone groaned.

“What’s up with that?” She asked, worriedly.

“1992 files are messed up, everything from ‘92 is filed -” River started.

“Incorrectly.”

“Like shit.”

“In the bin.”

“Fucking wonderful.” Shirley sighed.

Suddenly, Luke spoke up, his tone accusatory.

"Hey, Cartwright," he began, fixing him with a steely gaze. "What's up with that necklace you had the other day? I saw you with it.”

All eyes swivelled to Luke. 

Lamb frowned.

“What exactly does that have to do with this meeting?” He looked up at Cathering, “do I really need to do this? This lot are useless, a weekly meeting is hardly going to fix that.”

“We thought it might make the office more… harmonious.”

“Is that the royal we?” He questioned, picking up his mug and leaning back in his chair. His feet came up to the table, nudging a pile of papers closer to Sid.

"What necklace?” River sighed.

Luke crossed his arms, "don't play dumb. I saw you carrying around Sid's necklace the other day. You know, the one she always wears?”

The attention turned to River.

“Such a creep, you say I’m the stalker but you’re the one nicking her jewelry and buying her lunch, driving her home…”

“If we can get back on topic,” Catherine attempted.

"What are you talking about, Luke?" Sid moved her collar aside, "I'm wearing my necklace now?”

Luke's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at Sid's neck, realizing she was indeed wearing the necklace he had seen River with. 

He looked back at River, trying to backtrack.

"Wait, what? ... I must have been mistaken," he mumbled, his confidence wavering.

“Standish, give Lukey-boy the ‘92 files. Dander, call this your reprieve.”

“Right, moving on then -”

"Oh, I know what he's on about," River acknowledged, turning to Sid. "The thing, y'know?"

She nodded in understanding. 

"Ah, of course," she said, a hint of recognition in her tone. "The necklace." 

The rest of the office looked back and forth between River, Sid, and Luke, trying to piece together the situation.

Lamb’s mug hit the table with force.

“Can someone just put me out of my misery before I start firing you all?”

"We should probably just…" Sid shrugged, "tell them?" 

"Only if you want to?" River said.

The office fell silent, and all eyes were on Sid and River. 

Sid glanced around at her coworkers, seeing the mixture of confusion and curiosity on their faces. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah, might as well," she said, her hand instinctively going to touch her necklace, but faltering slightly.

“Might as well?” River grinned, “thanks a lot.”

As Sid’s hand came down from where it had gone to reach for her necklace, Louisa squeaked.

“Oh!” 

Luke frowned, looking around as Louisa, and then Catherine quickly caught onto whatever was going on.

“Oh how lovely!” Catherine exclaimed, rising from her chair and going around the table to them.

“Anyone want to fill me in?” Ho asked, confused.

Sid held up her left hand where a beautiful ring had been noticed by Louisa.

“We got engaged over Christmas,” she beamed, looking over to Lamb.

“Who’s we?” Luke asked. His question was soon answered as Catherine moved from hugging Sid, to River. “Him?!”

“The ring didn’t fit, so I was wearing it on my necklace til River got it resized.” Sid explained from somewhere in Louisa’s arms. “We were just waiting for the right time to tell you all.”

“‘Bout time,” Lamb muttered, not moving his feet from the table. “He asked me bloody ages ago!”

Sid looked up from Louisa’s hug.

“What do you mean?”

“He,” he pointed at River, “asked my permission weeks ago.”

“I did tell you I was going to ask at Christmas,” River pointed out. 

“You asked Lamb for permission?” Sid smiled softly.

River shrugged.

“Work dad.”

“Wait, wait,” Luke spoke up, “so you all knew they were together?”

“Duh,” Shirley looked at him in disgust.

“Oh Luke, you really should pay closer attention.” Louisa sighed, handing him the ‘92 files.

“We do have eyes, Luke.” Catherine added, a little more gently than the others.

“Anyway,” Ho interrupted, “shout out to Cartwright for not twatting Luke earlier,” he raised his mug.

“Here, here,” Shirley joined in. “God, I wouldn’t have lasted a day,” she glared at Luke.

“But… but you’ve got a flatmate, you said they’re annoying? They don’t wash up, they use up all the bread?”

“Who forgets to wash up?” River turned to Sid in outrage.

“Well, that’s me, actually,” she admitted. “But you did use all the bread.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

“C’mon you lot, enough domesticity. Let’s get this bloody meeting finished,” Lamb sighed. “I’ve got a call with Lady Di in a bit about how Luke’s getting on.”

Luke’s eyes widened, Lamb grimaced.

“Can’t wait to tell her about this.”

~~~~~~

Sid wiggled her toes further underneath River’s thighs while he flicked through TV channels.

“Ow,” he grunted, pulling her feet out from under him and putting them in his lap, warming them with his hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, reading on her phone.

“Anything good?” He asked.

“Remember Danni in HR at the Park?”

“Not really,” he shook his head, settling on an old episode of Grand Designs.

“She said Luke was in there earlier for a showdown with Taverner,” his hand stopped rubbing her feet.

“And?”

“She tore him a new one for what happened. Told him his behaviour was out of order and he’s lucky he’s still got a job. She told him the only reason Lamb let it go on for so long was because he had a running bet with everyone in the office over how long it’d take for you to hit him.”

River smiled smugly.

“Told you I could win that.”

“River, no one thought you’d win that. I had you down to hit him in the first week.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” he teased. “How does your mate know all of this anyway?”

“She was the one taking the notes for the investigation,” Sid laughed. “She says he was a mess, crying and apologising. Taverner told him to stop being a child and has recommended him for further training.”

“How not to be a dickhead?”

“Hmm, something like that. Apparently the reason he’s even at Slough House is because he kept harassing women in the office.”

River frowned.

“Shit, really?” 

Sid nodded, reading from her phone, “Three women reported him to HR because he followed them home after work.”

“I should have hit him,” River said decidedly.

“Too late for that now. So, what’re you going to buy with your winnings?”

“Thought I might take my wife-to-be out for dinner.”

“Excellent idea, especially since I forgot to get any food in,” she blushed.

“You make a rubbish flatmate, maybe I should swap you for Luke?” He leaned over her knees and brushed a light kiss over her lips.

“Nahh,” she kissed him back, “he’s shit at Monopoly.”

“Can’t be any worse than you,” River grinned.

[dino-boyo-agere]

Spider-Man headcanons for @dovey-luv-bug cuz he's da bestest superhero there is!!!

I'm going: Peter Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy & Collectively ╰→ personally, I have the comic versions of them in mind

Peter Parker's Spider-Man -any one of them lol-:

He definitely has ADHD and is constantly stimming.

Also always has some stim toys at hand

Peter is a wild child, always running around.

Confident in his regression and pretty open about it, he actively tries to break the stigma.

Peter tends to get hurt, scraped knees, little cuts, etc. So his cg always carries Band-Aids.

LOVES to play "big brother" for other little ones and/ or kiddos.

He will get mad at you, if you forget to give his teddies a good night kiss on the forehead.

Prefers to read the good night story himself, instead of being read to.

When he's smaller than 7, Peter just makes up a story, that he think would fit the pictures in the book.. reading is hard.

Does not enjoy bath time, it's boring.

Miles Morales' Spider-Man:

Probably definitely autistic..

He is less hyperactive then Peter and prefers to chill and watch cartoons over actively playing.

HUGE cuddle bug!

Bad textures can ruin his whole day.

Gets overstimulated quite quickly, when smol and is prone to meltdowns.

Miles is way less confident about his regression. He tries to hide it because he's embarrassed about regressing.

Extra clumsy when little & needs all his boo-boos kissed immediately!!

The phrase "I'm a big boy 😤" gets repeated like a broken record.. It's not convincing anyone though.

Tends to get lost in "bad thought spirals" and needs his cg to pull him out of them.

Has a plushie he tells all his worries to. It's a dog with a zipper on the belly, so he can write down/ draw his worries and put them in the pouch if their to hard to talk about (yet) and puppy can eat them up.. His cg checks the notes every once in a while (with permission ofc). The plushie's name is "Therapuppy".

Really enjoys bath time, especially the extra attention from his cg.

Likes drawing & crafting of any kind.

Gwen Stacy's Spider-Woman/ Spider-Gwen:

Also autistic, definitely.

She is a flip and i see her slightly leaning to being a cg.

Just like Peter, Gwen talks openly about age regression, to break the stigma.

Also loves to help take care of "little sibbies" when small (just like Peter does).

Likes being called "big sis" when smol and "Ma" when in cg headspace.

Gwen likes to dance when & with little(s)

Definitely overprotective and overly cautious.. even when tiny, she worries quite a lot.

Likes to doctor her plushies and dolls back to health.

Enjoys to play pretend and go on adventures.

Collectively -all 3 Spider-Babs-:

Neurodivergent!!

It's a trauma response for all of them, but Peter & Gwen came to love it and like to regress just for fun and to relax sometimes. Miles will get there too, someday..

Sweetest little angels, so affectionate.

None of them have one certain cg, whichever trusted person is available will take care of the tiny ones! (often a Avengers member.. Though I personally especially LOVE Wade Wilson [Deadpool] as Peter's cg cuz I luv their comics together.. Aunt May is also an amazing cg!! Miles' Mom and Dad actually really enjoy to take care of little him & so does Gwen's dad with her.)

That's all I can think of right now, I might add to it later though! <3

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･».ﾟ°･⁠✧ ↓ DNI ↓ ✧･° ﾟ.«･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

Tagging @pink-crayon-princess bc they said they'd love to hear some head canons aswell <3

[joanquill]

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

I Hope it's okay if i make Another request. So 25, fluff and Comedy Horror? the character is Henry antrim ( Billy the kid) and it was befor he Met william and sherly So my idea was that he and, YN his Girlfriend have a Mission and have to go w horses bc they can't go there w a train anyways, they started talking abt Stuff like ghosts and he thought it would be Funny to stacre her a little but when they had to Stop some scary Stuff happend but it all go well. I Hope this doesent Sound strange or somethink and sorry if it's a Bit much.

Billy the Kid

A/N: This is set before Billy meets William and Sherlock. Tag/s: Established Relationship

"Psst... (N/N)..." Billy whispered as you kept your eyes shut, turning away from him.

The horses neighed behind you as you kept still on the ground, your head resting on a pillow as the crickets sang you a lullaby in the forest.

"Are you asleep already?"

"...Yes..."

"Good! Because I have a story that will wake you up," Billy smiled as he pulled you up by your wrists, making you groan in protest.

"Billy, we need to sleep..."

"The sunset was just minutes ago! It's way too early for us to sleep,"

"Then let me rephrase, I want to sleep... We barely got any from our last job," you argued, making him pout.

"Okay..." he replied in a sing-song voice as he laid back down, making you sigh.

"...What's your story...?" you hesitantly asked, making him beam and sit up straight.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

'That idiot..!' you cursed as you hid under your makeshift blanket, Billy's ghost story keeping you up as you watched the surrounding greenery intensely.

"They say around these parts there's a ghost lurking around... stealing wandering travelers left and right until there's no trace left of them. Not even their possessions, as if they vanished into thin air."

'I'm going to kill him first thing in the morning...!' you sighed as you came out of your hiding spot.

"Hey, Billy!" you angrily called out, "Don't you think you went too-" you looked over to Billy's spot and saw it was empty, making you freeze.

"Billy?" you called out, grabbing your weapon as you looked around.

'I didn't sense or hear anybody...' you thought, slowly walking up to the horses.

'Where the hell did he go? Don't tell me...' you shuddered, remembering Billy's ghost story.

'Don't tell me he got-' "-Oh, you're awake!"

You jumped at the voice as you quickly attacked in the voice's direction.

"Easy there!" the voice chuckled as a hand grabbed your wrist, making you stop and see that it was only Billy.

"Billy!" you called out in exasperation and relief.

"Where were you!?"

"I was just getting more firewood," he lifted the dry branches in his arms, throwing them to the campfire.

"Why? Did you miss me already?" he teased, catching you by surprise.

"No," you quickly denied, embarrassed to even think a ghost would take him.

"Is that so?" he egged on with a mischievous smile on his face, making you look away from him.

"If you're scared, we can just sleep next to each other,"

"Who said I was scared!?"

Morning came peacefully as Billy slowly got up, stretching his body.

"(N/N)... What should we do for breakfast...?" he yawned as he reached out to you, but he felt nothing.

"(N/N)?" he called out again as he turned to you, seeing an empty space.

"Haha, very funny..." he dryly laughed as he looked around.

"All right! You got me... Where are you?" he cupped his hands around his mouth as he looked around your spot.

Looking around, he caught numerous footsteps and horseshoe marks on the ground.

'...Whoops...'

"I guess that ghost story was just these bandits, huh?" Billy smiled as you hugged his torso tightly.

Your kidnappers groaned in pain as they lay on the back of your horse, following you and Billy.

"I blame you..."

"Yes, yes... Sorry," Billy apologized in a wishy-washy voice as he kept his eyes on the road.

"...But thank you... for rescuing me," you muttered, making him smile.

"We still have time before we reach the next town, you know?" he commented, making you perk up your head.

"You can just relax back there and sleep, I'll handle the rest."

[darling-gemini]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you for the tag @ablatheringblatherskite !!

How many works do you have on AO3?

10! I would have more but I've orphaned a few fics when I was younger for reasons I no longer understand. Rip mafia au.

What's your total AO3 word count?

66,282! Which is so wild, ghost au is a little more than half of that.

Top Five Stories by Kudos

New Year's Eve (BuzzFeed Unsolved)

hide and go seek (Wednesday)

treading water (Wednesday)

sweet nothings (Lockwood & Co)

Wolf Out (BuzzFeed Unsolved)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!! I'm usually pretty quick about it too for the most part. I like getting back to people on their comments, especially if it's a longer one. I wanna let them know their words are appreciated!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Well, the ending hasn't been written yet but I would have to say my ghost (where'd you go?) is the angstiest thing I've written, except maybe if he's a ghost, I can be a phantom which is an orphaned BuzzFeed Unsolved fic now 'cause I was embarrassed to have a fic where Shane tortures a guy, but not anymore! Have at it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Hmm, probably either sweet nothings or treading water, both are more on the subtle side of happiness though I'd say.

Do you write crossovers?

I did a loooong time ago for a few BuzzFeed shows (Unsolved, Worth it, Unsolved Sports) but haven't attempted one in quite some time!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Come to think of it, no I haven't. I guess I haven't "made it" just yet lol

Do you write smut? If yes, what kind?

I've written one smut fic, hide and go seek, and it's based on the prompt of primal play!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be so fucking cool genuinely.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Co-created, but not co-written, what was called the mafia au for BuzzFeed Unsolved! But other than that, no I have not. Would absolutely love to though, am a big fan of collaborative writing!

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I fear I have to say my ghost 💀 idk the vibe of it is just really dark and dismal and I don't know if I'll ever be in the right frame of mind to finish it, but we'll see!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Don't ask me why but Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable came to mind and tbh I'm sticking with it. Generally speaking though I'm a big fan of best friends to lovers, though, several of my favorite ships fall into this category.

What're your writing strengths?

I would think it'd be characterization and maybe dialogue? I've been told I do good with dialogue, which fascinates me bc I would not have said that for myself but regardless appreciate the compliment!

What are your writing weaknesses?

I would definitely say pacing and poeticism. I tend to feel like I rush through scenes that deserve more breathing room, and I also feel as though my writing can come across very plain even unintentionally.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet, but want to?

I desperately want to put together my Dorian Gray au for Coriolanus Snow but I wanted to go through and read/annotate my copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray before I did so, and reread tbosas as well. Uhh I also really wanna do something for Payneland (Dead Boy Detectives) but that may take some time. Their voices are incredibly difficult for me to get a grasp on, as evidenced in my palasaki fic this little light of mine. Hence, minimal dialogue haha

What's your favorite fic that you've written?

Ohhh this is such a hard question, but I think it's probably sweet nothings. It's such a lovely lil drabble and is probably my most close-to-canon fic that I've done, I just think you could slip it into one of the episodes and it would work just fine. It's very dear to me.

Tagging: @thelovelybookworm and @nouklea , and anyone else that wants to!!

[irisintheafterglow]

Heyy, can I request best friends to lovers with suguru geto pls? Maybe where reader is helping on the star plasma mission but gets a little jealous of Riko bc sugu is so focused on the mission that he hasn't spent much personal time with her?

Also! I adore the fic where sugu and reader are best friends on a mission together! Good work 👏

dazzling haze, mysterious way about you, dear

summary: on your last night on the star plasma mission, a trip for water becomes an interrogation.

wc: 1.5k

cw/tags: best friends to lovers, swearing, mild angst, satoru is the king of being unserious and you're having none of it

note: so many suguru fics that i will gladly provide🫡 also i'm sorry this took so long, i just started fall semester so my time has been a little limited lately. but thank you for the ask, i hope you like it!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated :D

It’s chilly in Okinawa, much colder than you imagined it would be. Despite the comfortable airflow of AC in your part of the hotel suite, something about the environment still felt stifling. It felt too empty, the bed too big and the sheets too barren. Water, you decide. Let’s get water and some fresh air.

Your intentions are abruptly thwarted by an idiot in the sitting room.

“Aw, come to check if I was okay?” Why do I even bother? You turn on your heel and head back in the direction of your bedroom, leaving Satoru pretzeled in his armchair. You’d just have to figure out how to fall asleep a different way, one that didn’t involve a change of scenery. Still, a loud whisper calls out to you as you make your way back down the hallway. “Hey, wait! Why are you actually up?” Giving him a skeptical look, your shoulder finds the side of the door frame and you cross your arms defensively. 

“Couldn’t sleep, duh. Why else would I be out here?” 

“Okay, grumpy, don’t duh me. I’m just wondering since you usually sleep the deepest out of all of us. Well, you and maybe…” His voice trails off and you watch the gears start to turn in his head. He knew there would be only one reason why you weren’t sleeping well. You shoot him a sour look preemptively and he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Is something wrong between you and–”

“Alright, stop talking,” you state bluntly, pushing off the wall and finding your way to the corner of a sofa next to him. You want to slap the arrogant, aware-of-his-victory smirk off his face, but the daggers you’re staring into him are deflected by a shield of self-satisfaction. “Stop smiling like that, asshole.”

“Sorry, I just can’t help but laugh in the face of your suffering,” he shrugs with a patronizing lilt to his voice. You scoff and throw a pillow at him, to which he catches with one hand. Infinity off, you notice. He never turns on Infinity if it’s you, or Shoko, or Suguru with him. “Both my best friends are idiots in love, and both are suffering!”

“I think suffering is a little much.”

“Nope. It’s a little embarrassing, really.” His tone has turned to unabashed teasing and your face heats a little bit from pure indignancy. There’s no way Satoru put two and two together, right? Shoko’s epiphany was understandable; she seemed to always be watching, someway or another. Nanami only learned because Haibara figured it out first. You weren’t, however, anticipating the king of living in his own world to confront you. You put up a wall of confusion to hide the fact that he was poking dangerously close to your greatest secret. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. Or do, I don’t really care. This is entertaining.” He flashes a condescending grin that makes your blood boil. Yet, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t find the courage to leave. Retreating felt like running away, and you were determined to withstand Satoru’s stubbornness. 

“You are the biggest asshole to walk this Earth, Gojo Satoru,” you bite, shrinking away a little bit when uncannily blue eyes burn into your retinas. Unease sits in your stomach as he stares at you like he knows every single one of your thoughts and memories. It’s a feeling you wouldn’t wish on anyone, being the sole target of the strongest sorcerer on the planet. It had your forehead perspiring and knee bouncing unconsciously.

“And you are utterly in love with Geto Suguru,” he states. 

“How would you know that?” You sputter, immediately back on the defensive. 

“How could I not? You’re staring at him eight days a week, 25 hours a day.” You wish you could summon a fork from your domain and stab his stupidly determined eyes. Still, you think gaslighting the strongest sorcerer and your nosy best friend is a plausible option. 

“You’re out of your mind.” He sticks out his tongue defiantly. 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not, no take-backs.” You groan and lean back into the cushions, a hand coming up to cover your tired eyes. “So, are you mad at him or something?” 

“I don’t owe you any explanation,” you snap, but with significantly less fervor than before. He’d caught you. 

“You don’t,” Satoru agrees. “But, I also know you’re dying to get it off your chest.” You peek out at him from behind your fingers and he’s still staring at you expectantly. “Well?” You exhale deeply before speaking, stalling the inevitable. 

“I’m…angry?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he snorts haughtily. 

“You don’t sound very sure.” 

“I hate you,” you glare. Of course, he wouldn’t take seriously anything you’re trying to verbalize.

“No, you don’t. Continue,” he ushers you on with a wave of his hand. “Why are you angry?”

“It’s dumb,” you mutter indignantly, silently praying he gets bored and drops the subject. However, the honored one is relentless.  

“You have a crush on Suguru. Can’t get much dumber than that.”

“What about being jealous when we aren’t in a relationship?” 

“You don’t need to be in a relationship to be jealous, you know.”

“Yeah, but it feels so wrong to want him when we’re supposed to be focused on the mission. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” 

“And, you want him to make sure you’re okay?” He’s right on the money and you despised it. 

“I guess so.”

“You know, he already does that about four million times a day,” he says, like the information should be obvious to you. “Check on you, ask if you ate, bring you water, the usual. It's up to you how you want to interpret that, but I think it's clear as glass.”

You exhale again, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “I don’t know what to do, Satoru. I can't think clearly when he's around and I feel so immature.” 

“You’re not asking the right person for advice, you know.” You stiffen at the voice coming from the darkness of the hallway, his voice. Three thousand trains of thought derail all at once when he steps out into the moonlight of the room, looking absolutely stunning despite having just woken up. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but you must be really desperate if you’re going to Satoru for advice before me,” he jokes as he sits down next to you on the sofa. He’s in such close proximity that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body and faintly smell his shampoo. 

“And the world must be ending if the deepest sleepers I know are both awake at the same time,” Satoru adds, shooting you a knowing look for half a second before returning his focus to Suguru. “If you two are taking over watch for a few minutes, I’m gonna go take a shi–”

“Please, leave before you finish that sentence,” Suguru interjects as Satoru’s body lankily disappears down the hall. You’re suddenly struck by an unwavering feeling of awkwardness, something you’ve never felt before with Suguru. He must have sensed the way your body tensed up, too, since he respectfully positions himself away from you ever so slightly. “Nightmare?” You shake your head, too exhausted and too emotionally drained to answer. “Thinking?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, fiddling with your fingers. You can feel his dark eyes staring at you, but you don’t look up at him for fear of him seeing the burning shame on your face. “Just thinking a little too much about the mission, is all.” 

“Just the mission?”

“Yeah,” you lie, and a glance at his face reveals a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What has you so entertained?” He chuckles softly under his breath, the faint light catching the sharp outline of his jaw. Fuck, you think. He’s so beautiful. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been awake since I heard the door of your room creak open,” he informs you and your stomach drops to your knees. “So I–”

“Heard everything,” you finish and put your head back into your hands, face on fire. “Just ignore whatever I said, rationalize it as a weird-ass dream or something–”

“Why would I wanna forget what you said?”

“Because you have bigger things to focus on,” you laugh, a little cynically.

“And I’m only able to focus on them because I have you to ground me,” he replies nonchalantly.

"What do you mean?"

“I like you too, genius. I thought it was obvious that I can barely see straight when you’re within a ten foot radius.” You smile, genuinely this time, and scoot back closer to him until your shoulders are touching. Carefully, your pinky reaches for his and eventually interweaves all of your fingers together. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply against your temple. 

“Can we do something about this after the mission is over? I don’t want to put more stress on either of us,” you whisper. 

“Of course, we can,” he murmurs, pressing the lightest kiss to your forehead. “Take your time; I’m already all yours.”

“You’ll wait for me?”

“However long you’ll let me.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)