#i also make too many promises. i should really stop doing that

[rabbithaver]

every so often i will see a post from a leftist on this website that is so egregiously ableist that i remember that like. oh yeah the userbase of leftists on this website is violently anti-disabled people and will jump at any chance to demonize any of us for any reason. i just forget that fact because i'm extremely dedicated to curating my space

i'm paraphrasing here but i saw a post that said, "every time i see an American [disabled person] mention being scared about the election because they're afraid of losing their benefits i have to laugh. anybody who wants blood-soaked money from the US government deserves to starve" which. like. goodness that's a lot to unpack. i think we should burn the whole suitcase instead !

[yamujiburo]

Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

[cassie48]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗵𝗱𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲

Dark! Paul Atreides x fem crybaby!Reader

Where in the midst of a crowd, you, the Mahdis wife, get shoved by accident, and Paul isn’t so happy about that.

𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

Paul usually didn’t let you out of his sight, he knew better. It always ended up badly, someone would hurt you, or hurt your feelings, and you’d cry. Like you always did.

But you had 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 him to go for a walk with your friends. Fremen friends that you had known longer than you’d known him. He had only met you two years ago. But once he met you, he claimed he’s had visions of your pretty face, standing in the desert, smiling at him with your gorgeous smile.

He claimed you were to be 𝘏𝘪𝘴. So he married you mere days after you’d met. Stilgar having no problems with it as apparently it was in the prophecy, also known as Stilgars obsession.

You wanted to marry him though, you felt connected to him. There’s wasn’t many people that had put up with your emotional personality, but oh how he 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 it. He loved seeing tears in your eyes as you’d cling to him, burying your small face in his chest, how minor things he’d do for you made you emotional, and most of all how you relied on him to make you feel better.

So that’s why you barely went anywhere without him, it was really just easier for everyone. All the Fremen held huge respect for you as you were the wife of their messiah. No one 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 to merely touch you.

So on this particular day, you had begged your husband to let you go with your friends for a few hours. Inside the ancient temple of your sietch, all your people would gather and celebrate. It was an annual day. Celebrating your cultures and beliefs.

Crowds would gather and people would mingle, meeting and seeing friends. It was just an all round fun day. But this one wasn’t.

It had started off quite well. Paul allowed you to meet your friends for an hour or so, making you promise you’d meet him at home later on. You gladly did, kissing his cheek and leaving to see your friends.

Once you did, you and your friends gathered talking and dancing for what felt like forever. After a while you knew you probably should leave to meet your husband.

Paul had joined the celebrations, as he was their mahdi. He had been watching you for a while, making sure you were alright. When he saw you making your way through the crowds he began to walk too, so he’d meet you halfway.

The crowds were pushy, 𝘛𝘰𝘰 pushy for you clearly, as you took a step but we’re roughly shoved by a man on your right. You went flying face first onto the ground, hitting your head when your did.

The man turned to yell at you

“Watch it you- Oh my lady, I-I apologise deeply!” He yelled, not realising it was you. He was a dead man and he knew it.

Mad if he wasn’t already 6 foot under from his actions, to top it off completely, you began to cry, actually you began to ball your eyes out.

The entire sietch became quiet. Many around you quickly tried to help you up, but you were having none of it, and if anything it made you cry harder. The man that knocked you began to shake in fear as he saw Paul make his way to the scene.

The people had never seen their Mahdi with such a hateful and raged look. He shoved passed people in the cowds to get to you. Once he did he bent down to your bleeding face, wiping your blood and tears before picking you up in his arms, giving one last glance to the man that had caused your accident.

“Make sure he waits outside my tent” he growled to three Fremen on his left, before swiftly turning and leaving with you in his arms.

You cried the entire way back to your tent, clinging onto your husband as your face stung. Once you two arrived, he put you into bed, sitting down beside your lying form.

“You must stop crying my love, it’s alright now” Paul said kissing your forehead gently, wiping stray tears on your cheeks.

“Don’t waste them” he muttered.

You did as he said, but still slight hiccups every few minutes remains. “My head hurts” you whispered with an unhappy look on your face.

“This is why I don’t like you out of my reach” he told you, tucking you under the sheets.

“I know Paul, I’m sorry” she said holding back tears at the thoughts of upsetting him.

He smiled at you tenderly, before giving you a gentle kiss, and letting you fall asleep in bed.

He angrily turned towards the tents exit. He took the man waiting outside fearfully in his arms, dragging him away from your sleeping form.

Once he was out of hearing distance from you, Paul shoved the man onto the ground. Taking out a knife, and placing it at his neck.

“How dare you harm hug wife” Paul yelled.

“Mahdi I- it was an accident!” He said almost crying.

“It don’t care. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦, harms her, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.” He yelled, before yanking the knife away from his neck, giving him a tiny knife before plunging the knife into the man’s side, and getting up and walking back to you.

Many Fremen watched, not daring to say anything. They knew better. They knew what he was like when it came to you.

Paul made his way back to your drowsy form, half asleep in your bed. “Paul you whispered” with a pouty look.

He got into the bed beside you, taking you into his strong hold, kissing your neck. “Sleep now sweetheart” he told you, and of course, you complied.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

Just wanted to write something small, I know it’s not much ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

[verstappen-cult]

PETNAMES, M. VERSTAPPEN.

CONTENT WARNINGS. female reader, explicit content.

Max likes to call you schat or mijn liefje because you get all flustered every time he speaks Dutch. And says it with a playful smile on his face because he knows the effect that is going to have on you.

Max calls you sweatheart — this is probably the one he uses the most — when he’s teasing you or trying to make you forgive him for something he definitely didn’t do but you’re accusing him of nonetheless; of course he’s not going to ask, he will simply ask for your forgiveness. Also when he’s addressing you and asking something simple as “What would you like for dinner, sweetheart?” or something else like “I think you should use the green dress because it really brings out your eyes, sweetheart.”

Max calls you sweetie to annoy you — you don’t like it, so he makes sure to call you sweetie in front of your friends knowing that you would never call him out for it. But he likes seeing you plaster on a smile while leaning against him, your hand sneaking from behind to pinch him on the side. It hurts, but he likes riling you up too much to care.

Max calls you princess when feeling extra attentive and wants to give you everything. You could ask him to give you the moon and he will find a way to make that possible. It happens when you’re out in Monaco or exploring the different cities he has to travel to for work, most of the time. If he sees you looking at a purse for longer than a minute, he won’t hesitate to ask “Do you want that purse, princess?” and even when he’s carrying so many shopping bags that you think he will complain (he never does), Max still asks “You got everything you wanted, princess? We can keep looking if you want.”

Max calls you love or babe when you’re arguing and he’s stressed and tired and doesn’t want to keep fighting. He will try to calm you both down by saying something like “I’m going for a walk, love. Because I can’t keep doing this.” and he’d grab his keys and go for a walk until it’s safe enough to go back home. The first thing leaving his lips will be a “Hey, babe. Can we talk now?” and then you’d spend the whole night trying to make things right, making promises of communicate better.

Max calls you doll when he feels smitten and wants attention but doesn’t know how to ask for it. But you know what he wants because it is the only occasion he really uses it. It is said with a head held low and blushed cheeks “What you doing, doll?” and you’ll stop what you’re doing immediately, if it’s important you will move things aside to make room for him to cuddle next to you. Other times the word rolls from his mouth like a purr “You look pretty today, doll.” while rubbing his head against your arm like a cat.

Max calls you baby when he’s buried deep inside of you, feeling so good that the only words falling from his lips are praises followed by a baby, baby, baby. He says it desperate, when you are riding him and he wants to buck his hips up, but you told him to be a good boy and wait, and he wants to be good for you so badly. He says it breathless when your walls are squeezing the life out of his cock and your climax is approaching. He says it roughly, demanding, while pushing your head against the pillows and thrusting as deep as he can because “You will take what I give you, baby. If I say you can’t come, then you won’t, you understand?” He says it in a whisper when he’s making love to you, rolling his hips slowly as you feel tears streaming down your face because of how intense everything is, “You’re doing so good for me, baby. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Max Verstappen is an avid petname user, but would most definitely deny it if anyone were to ask him.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust.  So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were,  but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You  glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not. 

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head. 

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[yuwuta]

I HAD TO HAVE THIS TALK WITH YOU, CAUSE I’D HATE TO HAVE TO ACT A FOOL — MEGUMI FUHSIGURO

cw this exists in the same rich kids/boarding school au as this piece, which are slowly forming their own universe, implied (past) drug use/underage drinking, more of megumi being your guard dog everybody cheer

Megumi scowls as yet another phone call goes to voicemail. He’s been standing outside the racetrack for fifteen minutes, watching Yuuji absolutely pummel Aoi in polo, and waiting for you. He huffs, just as Yuuji loudly celebrates another point, thumbing a text to Yuuta, asking if he’s seen you all morning. Yuuji claimed you’d left him all by himself after your shared morning class, Nobara was still in Switzerland, and Tsumiki also seemed to be ignoring his messages. 

He needed answers, and quickly, because this is the free period that Muta and his goons also have free, and he would hate to go back on his promise to stop egging him so soon after you’d asked him so sweetly to knock it off. 

Yuuta (received 12:57pm) — She’s fine, Tsumiki and I are with her. Picnic tables outside of the building 703. — Warning, your least favorite upperclassmen are here too, but don’t make a scene. They’re annoying, but not trouble yet. 

Megumi squints, turning on his heels towards the large building opposite the racetracks. As he rounds the side that opens into a field, formally known as one the many lawns dedicated in the Gojo family’s name, and informally revered as your favorite lunchtime spot, he hears the familiar sound of Tsumiki’s laughter, and the unpleasant squawking of his least favorite upperclassmen. 

Seeing you, Yuuta, and Tsumiki sitting at the picnic bench under the blooming wisteria was business as usual; seeing Hakari and another senior infiltrating the seating arrangement was not. Megumi frowns, strolling up to the table to halt the conversation when he’s noticed by you, and sized up by the upperclassman. 

“Oh, uh—hey, I—good afternoon, Fushiguro!” the other senior has the decency to greet him, stumbling with their overly-chipper tone. Megumi eyes them and blinks. Their face is a familiar shadow to Hakari’s, but he never could recall their name, no matter how many times he had the displeasure of running into the duo.  

“It was,” Megumi drawls. He turns his head to face you again, “You’re late.” 

From this angle, you have to tilt your head up to make eye contact with him. There’s an innocence behind your eyes, genuine warning, weary concern; and still, so beautiful it makes Megumi’s thoughts venture elsewhere—only for a moment; he supposes he should be grateful for Hakari’s presence, just this once, because the interjection of his grating voice pulls Megumi back to reality. 

“Relax, Fushiguro, we were all just talking, having a good time,” Hakari whistles, a dirty grin on his lips, “Ain’t that right, Kirara?” 

Ah, Kirara. That’s their name. Megumi doesn’t have time to mull it over, or pretend to commit it to memory; the majority of his energy is focused on preventing himself from throwing a punch. Briefly, he makes eye-contact with Tsumiki, a silent warning in her eyes to not be violent; so Megumi looks to the other side of the table at Yuuta, whose hollow eyes are apologetic, but cautious. Megumi can tell they’ve both been doing their best to neutralize the conversation before he arrived, without setting off your own alarm bells. 

They’ve been patient, but he won’t be: “Get lost, Hakari.” 

“Whoah, no need to rush things. Come on, I didn’t even get a chance to invite you to our party yet,” Hakari’s grin widens, “I just figured I’d get your owner on board before I pet the puppy, yeah?” 

Tsumiki and Yuuta share a look. Megumi bares teeth to growl, rests his palms on the picnic table and leans over to deliver his message again, “Get lost.” 

“Kin, don’t be so rude!” Megumi can hear Kirara’s teeth chattering beside him, a chittering voice attempting to cut through the tension, “What—what he means is that you’re all invited, really!” 

Megumi turns his head, not to acknowledge Kirara or to back down to Hakari, but to look at you. He knows that you know that there are three options to how this ends, and given that he’s already got a strike in your book for bullying Kokichi, and that Yuuta’s route would cause significantly more drama than his, he’s hoping you’ll settle this yourself. 

He tilts his head just enough, raised eyebrows in warning and wait; and then, you give a conceding blink, a small sigh, part your lips to speak, still looking at Megumi when you say: “Hakari, Kirara, you two should grab lunch. They’re going to stop serving the hot food soon.” 

A command hidden as a suggestion. It makes the upperclassmen scowl, but still Hakari motions across the table to Kirara, and they both gather their belongings. “Whatever,” he scoffs, “You know where to find us when you want to have some real fun.” 

Hakari flashes you a wink over his shoulder before he and Kirara make their way around the building and towards the main dining hall. When they’re out of earshot, you smile, look away from Megumi, and back down to your lunch, grabbing the single, wrapped daifuku and tearing open the packaging, before looking back up to him with a smile, “Well, have a seat, Megumi. Join us.” 

Megumi scoffs, standing up straight again, “You’re supposed to be in a meeting with Gojo right now.” 

“I already had Yuuta do my bidding this morning, because he was so sweet to wake up before noon,” you reply, taking the desert out of the plastic, flashing Yuuta a brief smile before looking up to him again, “So I told him lunch was on me, and we ran into Tsumiki on our way. It’s so nice out, isn’t it? Come on, sit with us, enjoy the weather. Yuuta was telling us about the new coup he bought.”

Tsumiki chimes in about her lunch, looking over at Yuuta’s half-eaten tray and wishing she’d got beef instead of chicken. He offers her what’s left of his plate, and she politely declines, before Yuuta insists, pushing his food across the table to her, and you pitch in, putting the remainder of your sauce next to her. The three of you seem to easily pick up where your conversation was presumably before Hakari and Kirara crashed your lunch. 

Megumi’s scowl deepens. He knows that you know that he wants to know why Hakari and Kirara were here in the first place, he knows that you know that their party invitation was just a scheme to get you into trouble and get a rise out of him, he knows that you know he’s going to kick their asses six ways to Sunday unless you tell him not you. 

“Megumi,” you cut through his thoughts, words noticeably heavier, “Sit.” 

He rolls his tongue in his cheek, and you squint a bit, tilting your head to motion to the empty space beside you on the bench. You only spare him a sharp glance, before giving your attention back to Tsumiki, clapping happily as she shows you something she bought on her phone. 

With a huff, Megumi rounds the table, sets his bag down on the soft grass and swings his legs over the bench and next to you. Tsumiki turns her phone to Yuuta, and your attention is back to Megumi, breaking your daifuku in half and offering a piece to him. He puts an elbow on the table, leans his cheek into his palm, a defiant expression on his face you pay no mind to—you scrunch your nose with a deceptive smile, bringing the mochi to his lips, and opening your mouth mockingly for him to follow. He blinks at you, slowly; once, twice, a third time before his head dips every so slightly, mouth a jar, letting you place the dessert between his teeth. Only after he has it in his mouth do you begin to eat your half, sparing a hand to raise your arm and pat the top of his head, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Megumi tilts his head further into his palm. “You didn’t answer my calls.” 

“When you called, I was eating lunch. It’s rude to take calls when you have company,” you defend yourself. 

“Yuuta answered my texts.”

“Yuuta is scared of you,” you chirp, “And unlike you, he cares to not have write-ups on his transcript. He keeps his physical encounters off-campus.” 

“I am not scared of Megumi,” Yuuta scoffs, leaning over to poke at your forehead, “I’m scared of Tsumiki. And I did not want to be scolded for getting blood on her new Chanel skirt.” 

Between the two of them, Yuuta was certainly the more reformed one; it only took one incident of Tsumiki pulling at his ear and scolding him about using his words instead of his fists for him to actually listen to her. Megumi couldn’t blame him, Tsumiki was hellish when she was truly angry, and he feared Tsumiki as much as the next person, but he also knew how she had a soft spot for her younger brother; a mercy that Yuuta, Yuuji, and Nobara were not privy to when their violent streaks got the best of them. 

Besides, when Tsumiki couldn’t get to him, you were there to tug on his leash and reign him in. 

“Wimp,” Tsumiki coughs, “And simp,” she taunts her brother, “We ought to pick new bodyguards in our next life.”

You laugh softly at her teasing, but still, you rest your elbow on the table to mirror Megumi’s position, “You’re right. I call dibs on Yuuji.” 

Your joke makes the others laugh, and Megumi rolls his eyes as you all chuckle. Still, he shifts to lean his head against your shoulder, sly as he knocks his head against your neck and reminds you of a simple fact: “That’s too bad. You’re stuck with me, in this life and the next.”

[star-girl69]

So It Goes…

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: the one day chiron decides to switch up the capture the flag teams, and everyone knows you’re clarisse’s weakness, In A Good Way sequel!!

i changed my theme it’s me tho promise

a/n: protective clarisse the love of my life i love you i do i think we should get married actually anyways this one is sooooooo i got to explore a more casual side of clar’s and reader’s relationship in this (for like a min) i hope you all enjoy!!

So It Goes… - Taylor Swift

warnings: soft clarisse my love, protective clarisse we KNOW how i feel abt her…., also slightly possessive clarisse i think i love you too, again clarisse gets a bit too into capture the flag, clarisse picks reader up which i KNOW is not inclusive (im literally plus-sized idk what the hell am i doing) but it was so good i couldn’t resist, she has like super strength probs so i’ll just believe (she literally could not pick me up i need to stop being delusional), swearing, violence, kissing, a bit suggestive but nothing crazy, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse’s bed is one of your favorite places. You’ve spent so many nights here, wrapped up in her arms, feeling like no one could touch you. And you’ve spent secret days with her hands on your waist, yours in her hair, lips pressed together so tight it’s like you were each other’s oxygen.

You love Clarisse’s bed. And you know Clarisse loves her bed too, seeing as it’s a huge source of pride for her- it’s the best bunk in the cabin, and she gets a major kick over the fact that you sleep here just as much as you sleep in your own cabin.

You’re sitting down, watching Clarisse pace back and forth, her spear in her hand.

“Clarisse,” you say. She brought you here just fo freak out. Now she won’t sit down and let you help her, and she wont just freaking listen. “Clarisse, baby, what’s wrong? Can you at least put your spear down so you don’t accidentally kill somebody? If you kill me with that I’m gonna come back and kill you.”

She stops for a moment and leans her spear up against the wall. You let out a sigh.

“Now just sit down-”

She resumes her pacing.

As much as you love just being in Clarisse’s presence, as much as you know you’re her rock, the only thing that keeps her tethered in the storm she constantly fights through, you need her to let you help her.

“Clarisse!” you stand up, placing your hands on her shoulders. “You’re freaking me out, okay? What happened? I-I’m sure we can fix it, I mean…” you rub your hands up and down your arms, which you know she likes, her muscles are one of her biggest sources of pride.

She sits down, letting you stand in between her legs, her hands moving to hold your hips.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. She’s not very good at handling her emotions, but she’s getting better, and at least she’s able to recognize and apologize when her emotions are hurting other people. Well, you, at least. She breathes out. “Chiron decided to switch the teams.”

And now she had to work with the Athena cabin? The Gods know after the Ares and Athena cabins have captained opposing teams for years, Chiron pretends there’s not, but everyone knows there’s a deep rivalry. More than just friendly competition.

“The Demeter cabin will be on the red team.”

“Okay,” you say, squeezing her shoulders. You aren’t really close with anyone from the Demeter cabin, it doesn’t really bother you much.

“And… the Aphrodite cabin will be on the blue team.”

“Oh.”

You’ve never not been on Clarisse’s team for capture the flag. Not only does the entire red team’s tactic rest on you using your charmspeak to protect the flag, but what the hell are you supposed to do fighting against Clarisse?

She wraps her arms around your waist, flopping back onto her bed and bringing you down on top of her.

“I know it’s all Annabeth and Luke behind this. I’m sure that little smartass has made up some sick plan to make me go insane.”

You scoff, planting your hands behind her head on the bed. “You’re the one who can actually fight. I’m, like, so bad it’s not even funny, Clar.”

“You beat me all the time,” she frowns.

And it’s true, you spar with her at least 3 or 4 times a week, and you win most of the those times. But Clarisse moves slower, she doesn’t hit as hard, she anticipates your next move and doesn’t block it so you can land a hit.

“We both know you let me win.”

“I like seeing you smile,” she says, her own matching smile on her face.

“Okay, you big romantic.” You let your hands slip, laying your head against her chest and your arms flat around her head. “It’s not that big of a deal, Clar. I’m sure it’ll be fine, then Chiron’ll probably switch them back.”

“Annabeth convinced him to do it. She has some sort of plan, Y/N, she does.”

“You’ve mentioned,” you hum. “Stop stressing. Nothing we can do about it.”

“Fine,” she hisses.

She wraps her arms around your waist and throws you to the side so you yelp, now she’s climbing on top of you, laying her head on your chest.

“It’s going to be the worst game of capture the flag in history, you know. I hope you’re happy, I don’t even know what I’m gonna do without you. I mean, I guess I could move that group in the west side to just south of the flag, so that’ll be a bit more for them to get through. Oh, I’ll stick that one good archer on the ground- no, no that wouldn’t work, I need him in the trees. But I’ll move his position-”

—-

You walk to the woods together. When it’s time to split up, Clarisse grabs you by your armor and points her finger into your chest.

“Clar, what the hell are you doing-”

“Don’t do anything I would do.”

“Okay, Clarisse,” you smile, blinking once to avoid rolling your eyes at her ridiculousness.

She smirks, her arm squeezing your waist. She pecks you on the lips before pulling away completely.

“Done making out?” Jackie asks, her and Tyla suddenly appearing next to you.

“It was one kiss, Jacks. Are you sure we have the same Mom?”

“No, honestly.”

You fall into step with the two of them, laughing as you make your way through the woods and to the edge of the river.

Chiron makes his usual speech, the conch sounds, and everyone starts moving around.

Annabeth finds the three of you soon after. Tyla and Jackie fall away, following your other siblings. Annabeth always has this calculating look on her face, like she knows something you don’t, a true child of Athena. You have to admit, she really is one of the smartest people you know.

“Annabeth,” you smile. “I guess you want me by the flag?”

“No, I debated that, but I decided against it.”

She smirks and looks at you before spinning around, pointing to Luke and his team members who are always in charge of getting the flag.

“You’ll be with Luke.”

You frown. “You do realize I have absolutely no skill in battle, right, Annabeth?”

“Yeah, but skill doesn’t matter when you have power. Power over someone.”

“Oh, okay. Who do you want me to charmspeak-”

“Charmspeak whoever you come across, but that’s not what I’m talking about. You have power over Clarisse. I know she’s defending the flag today, right?”

She looks at you sharply.

You smile. “Oh, I really don’t know. But if you say so, sure.”

She starts walking, you follow her.

“Clarisse doesn’t talk strategy to you? I mean, I talk Luke’s ear off.”

“Oh, no, she does, I just don’t really retain any of it.”

She huffs a small sound of laughter.

“I know she’ll be there,” she affirms.

“If you say so!” you say, all sing song, Luke smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Y/N! How’s it feel to finally be on the winning team?”

“I love being on the red team, thanks for asking.”

“Ha. You’re so funny, are you sure you’re not a child of Apollo?”

“Too beautiful,” you glide your hands down your face. “I get it from my godly mother.”

“Luke, do you know what you’re doing?” Annabeth asks.

“Yes ma’am.”

She smiles and walks away, talking to more people while you can faintly hear Clarisse shouting at people. With the change in tactic, you know she’s been slightly stressed, but she won’t allow herself to feel anything other than confidence, outwardly.

She still walks tall. She still grips her spear in her hand a little to tight. She’s a bit too greedy with the things that are hers, she grabs on a bit too tight, but you know it’s just because she’s scared. You like it.

If this were a regular game, you would probably be walking next to Clarisse right now, or kissing her goodbye while you follow Matty and everyone else to go protect the flag.

When you and Clarisse first started dating, she was slow to be so affectionate, but the more of her walls you started breaking down the more you found a complicated teenage girl who felt unloved, and had a lot of love to give too.

The more confident she became in your private relationship, the more she wanted everyone to know. It was her fatal flaw, pride, hubris. She wanted everyone to know she was yours and your were hers. She wanted everyone to be jealous.

“I’m so glad we don’t have to wear those horrible earplugs today. They always make me worried. Someone could be shouting a few feet away and none of us would hear.”

“Stop gloating, Luke.”

“I’m just expressing my gratitude, Y/N, is that not allowed?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Oh, oh, I know. You’re sad, aren’t you?”

“Sad?” you snort.

“Yeah, sad. Sad you aren’t with Clarisse. You’re devastated, destroyed, wrecked.”

You put your hand on your sword. “Who are you… and what have you done with Luke Castellan? Luke doesn’t know that many words…”

He hits your shoulder. “Shut up, Y/N.”

—-

You’re walking through the woods.

Not sneaking around in stealth, not running, but walking.

You’ve come across a few of your former team members, but one of the blue team just tackles them and you tell them to turn around and count to 5,000.

For some reason, it’s worse than sitting by the rock, waiting for someone to make a play for the flag. At least at the rock you’re surrounded by all these people you know. You and Matty are usually talking, Marjorie sometimes joins, and you all have fun bullying Corey for that one time he didn’t see the blue team coming.

Luke’s voice drops to a whisper.

“Here’s your job. You can either, one, go make out with Clarisse in a corner, which shouldn’t be too hard-”

“Luke,” you hit his shoulder. He hisses.

“I’m joking, joking. Just keep her distracted, fight her, maybe pull your shirt down a bit? Oh, or I can just cut it so it’s a bit more revealing-”

“Luke, shut up or else I will make you.”

“It’s not a bad idea-”

“Luke!”

“Sh, sh,” he whispers. “Don’t be so loud, we’re almost to the flag. We’re going for stealth, okay?”

“Oh, really, I didn’t notice,” you deadpan. He looks around.

“Blue team, stealth mode, alright?”

Everyone nods. You roll your eyes. You miss the red team.

—-

After Luke gives you the ok, meaning the blue team has successfully surrounded the red team and the clearing, you take a step forward.

Annabeth was right. Clarisse is there.

It’s fitting. If you can’t be there, she would.

You look up at Corey, but he hasn’t noticed any of you yet. You frown, thinking about how he’s probably going to get beat up.

“Clarisse!” you shout. You watch everyone jump into defensive positions. She can’t see you yet, but she stares in the direction of your voice, her eyes squinting, smiling softly.

“Luke?” she shouts. “That you?”

You frown.

“What the hell?” you say, stepping forward. “You don’t recognize my voice? I thought that was really smart. Like, a cool way to reveal myself, I don’t know.”

You come into the clearing, sword by your side.

Clarisse’s smile drops.

“I-I- no, baby, I just wasn’t expecting Annabeth to send you here-”

“Do I really sound like Luke?”

“No,” she says, immediately. “You sound like an angel.

Matty laughs. Clarisse stabs his foot with the end of her spear. She smiles at you.

“Is Luke here though?” Marjorie asks, subtly trying to look through the trees.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you do,” Matty snorts.

“You’re going to tell me though right, baby?” Clar smiles, stepping closer until she’s right in front of you.

“Obviously not, you didn’t recognize me. I’m, like, really hurt by that Clarisse-”

“Gods, Clarisse,” Matty shouts at the sky, laughing. You didn’t recognize her, and now we’re all fucked!”

“Shut the fuck up, Matty,” she says over her shoulder. She looks at you, smiling again, her hand reaching out to touch your face. “I’ll let you do that thing you’ve always wanted to do.”

You smile, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ll let me give you a makeover? Really?”

“Yes.” Her teeth grit, but she keeps smiling, her thumb rubbing your cheek.

“Hm, I don’t know,” you mutter, your eyes fixing on her spear when you suddenly reach forward, grabbing it from her hands and turning to run away.

The blue team emerges from the woods with war cries, swords start clashing, and it all happens so fast.

The plan was for you to grab her spear, make her chase you around the woods, and hopefully the blue team would be able to overpower the red team without her.

Instead, Clarisse kicks out her foot, tripping you. Then, she catches you and the spear in what you swear has to be a milisecond.

“Clarisse!” you shout, genuinely offended. She beat you so easily. It wasn’t even a fight. You didn’t even get the chance to run.

“Sorry, baby, it’s capture the flag!”

You about to start kicking like a wild animal when she suddenly lets you go. Luke is there, fighting her while you pick your sword up from the ground that fell in the commotion.

One of your team members dropped their helmet and you pick that up too.

You’re not that bad of a fighter, Clarisse just knows everything about you, you tell yourself. But your pride is slightly wounded and you want to prove to her, yourself, and everyone that you’re not just a weak Aphrodite kid or some poor thing that hangs off Clar’s arm.

You can hold your own.

You stick the helmet on and step into the fight. Someone groans and a sword comes wishing through the air, but you block it.

They swing again.

You block it.

You picked up things from Clarisse, and, besides, you weren’t just sparring for fun. She actually teaches you, better than the actual sword practice teacher if your biased opinion is to be trusted.

But you probably just feel that way because she rewards you with kisses.

It seems like you’re actually winning for a second, about to disarm him, when he seems to get fed up with fighting you and suddenly arcs hard over your head, making you lose your footing and letting him kick you.

You land on your back, groaning and trying to catch your breath.

“That was such a bitchy move,” you mumble. He leans over you, about to kick the sword out of your hand-

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Samuel.”

She holds her spear right under his throat, and he finally seems to look at your face instead of just your blue helmet.

“Shit. Sorry. Sorry, Clarisse, I’m sorry.”

She looks like she’s about to kill him but she just pushes him away.

“I was winning,” you groan. “But then he kicked me.”

She kicks him as he walks away.

You expect her to tug you up and start lecturing you but instead she leans down and throws you over her shoulder.

“Wha- Clarisse!”

“That’s enough for you today,” she says, patting the back of your thigh.

“Clarisse, I swear to Hades, let me down!”

“One second,” she mumbles.

When she places you down on the ground again, you’re leaning against a tree. She grabs your hand, frowning at something.

It’s the smallest cut, barely there, but Clarisse of course acts like it’s the end of the world.

“Does it hurt?”

Your eyes fix on Luke behind her, stalking slowly towards her turned back.

“No, Clar, it’s fine. Now I-”

“I think you should go the nurse.”

Your mouth drops open. “Clarisse, it’s a paper cut!”

“And if it gets infected? Go away, Luke, I can hear you.”

He locks eyes with you but ultimately turns around with a very scared and annoyed look on his face.

“Now do you see why I was all messed up? I knew this was going to happen. You were gonna get hurt, and it was going to be my fault.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not your fault, Clarisse-”

“But isn’t it? You would have been at the flag if Annabeth hadn’t known how much you mean to me. Instead, you were here. Instead, you were rushing off to go fight someone-”

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Clar!”

She presses her lips together.

“I can fight too. Not as good as you, but I can. I-I don’t want to be weak, I don’t want to rely on you for everything, it’s- it’s embarrassing.”

You didn’t even know you were feeling this way until you felt it. But it’s always been there, you guess. You always watch Clarisse spar and know she could never do anything like that with you. And you thought you were fine with it, and you are fine with having things that you like and things that she likes- but you don’t want to be so useless anymore.

She’s silent for a second.

“I- I get that. I do. But I just don’t know how to tell you I… I love you without showing it. I’m not good at saying it, you know that.”

“Clarisse,” you frown.

She puts her hands on your face.

“You are… the most precious thing in the world to me, Y/N. I really hope you know that.”

You wrap your arms around her neck, you can feel her heart thump from the fight.

“I know that, Clarisse. Of course I know that. You show me every day, I just- I just want to feel like my own person.”

She grips you tighter. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll teach you to fight. But you have to do it how I say, and you can’t go off and do this-”

You pull back so you can make sure this is real.

“Really?” you smile.

“You have to listen to me, Y/N, and do it slowly, okay-”

“Yes, yes, yes, okay, yes,” you breathe, planting your hands on your face before kissing her. It’s slow, it’s sweet, it’s exactly what you think of when you think of her. You think of the side that’s yours, the side that only you can see.

You break it, leaning down to pick up her spear.

The red team is losing the fight behind you.

“Ok, go win capture the flag. And I’ll stay here. My hand does kinda hurt,” you mumble.

She smiles and kisses your cheek. “Not just a paper cut, huh?”

“Can I still give you a makeover?” you ask as she turns away.

“Maybe!”

—-

y/n: what why did you not recognize me ☹️☹️

clarisse, genuinely terrified: i have no idea what the hell you are talking about please please please don’t take away kissing privileges please please please

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008

(pls ignore it’s for the acc aesthetics thank you!!)

[peachdues]

BIRTHDAY SURPRISES — NSFW

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

A/N: there is nothing redeemable about this. It’s just 7.9k words of pure filth in honor of my man’s birthday.

My husband got a boner reading this, so enjoy you whores.

CW: MDNI • Explicit sexual content • daddy!kink • elevator blowjobs • creampies • rough sex • kinky sex • brat-taming/mild dumbification • overstimulation • fluff at the end followed by more smut • not proof read lmao

Sanemi Shinazugawa has never liked the month of November.

For starters, the stupid month can’t decide what damn season it wants to be. It’s somehow too cold to really qualify as autumn and the leaves have usually fallen to the ground, brown and dead and useless, but it’s also still too warm to snow.

And November is such a tease — smack dab between two great holidays yet offering nothing but a restlessness that persists until the end of the year.

So no, Sanemi Shinazugawa isn’t fond of this time of year. But the universe has never shied away from giving him the middle finger, so Sanemi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised his birthday falls during such a bullshit month like November.

He’d been content to spend the day of his birth like he did every other year — hunkered down in his apartment with some cheap takeout, alone, without anyone to make a big fuss about it. That was the plan — his goddamn plan.

So how the fuck did he end up here?

The “here” in question is a suite at one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. The room is stuffed full of faces, some familiar but most not, packed together like sardines. The music is loud and pulsing and it threatens to give him a nasty headache.

It was Tengen who convinced him to allow this — though, Sanemi doesn’t suppose he was given much of a choice in the matter. But his friend group learned of his impending birthday a few weeks earlier, and before Sanemi could level a few, well-backed threats against any party planning, Tengen had booked the massive suite in which he now found himself, and promised Sanemi that he wouldn’t have to buy a single drink.

Sanemi agreed only on the condition that he be allowed to book a separate hotel room — several floors below where this godforsaken party now raged.

At least Tengen had meant it when he promised Sanemi wouldn’t have to spend a dime on alcohol. He took care to run up his friend’s tab by ordering several shots of Grey Goose, throwing them back as easily as water.

Hey, it was his birthday, after all.

The hotel suite is a blur of lights and colors and bodies pressed together in dark corners. Truthfully, Sanemi really can’t find any one thing to pay attention to; it’s ironic that this party is supposedly for him, and yet he feels like the most invisible person in the room.

But then he spots you — beautiful, witty, and charming you — seated in the lounge area, surrounded by both shared friends and strangers, and it’s like a spotlight has been pointed directly at you. All else seems to fall away, recessing into the shadows of the room, and his attention is locked solely on you; the star of the show that is his birthday party.

The feelings swirling in Sanemi’s chest are dangerous; lethal. He knows he should look away and accept the fact that you, with your endless pick of eligible women and men, would never deign to chase after someone like him, someone with as many scars on his heart as are seared into his skin. He knows that. He knows he’s only setting himself up to get more pissed off — to hate his birthday more than he already does.

But he can’t stop watching you.

And even if he could, he doesn’t want to. He’s only been in love with you since the moment Shinobu tugged you into a booth at a bar they all frequented. There hadnt really been any room for you to sit — not with seven of them already packed tightly onto the bench — but you’d taken one look at him and grinned, something that could only be described as mischief lighting your eyes.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” You’d asked him sweetly as you plopped your ass right down on his lap. “You look like you’re the comfiest one here.”

Sanemi, who was known for having a quick temper and an even quicker mouth, had been stunned into silence by the presence of a beautiful woman, perched on his knee like it was the most natural thing to sit on a stranger’s lap. His friends had been hard-pressed to suppress their smirks at the way Sanemi gaped at the back of your head, and he was fairly certain it was because you’d been so ballsy that you’d secured a permanent spot in their weekly bar rotation.

That had been over a year ago, and Sanemi’s infatuation with you grew deeper by the day.

Not that he’d ever done anything about it — even though, at times, it felt like you were all but baiting him into acting on his feelings. He wanted to believe the way your eyes followed him wherever he went in a room meant something, that your lingering touches were an invitation for more, but he could never bring himself to find out.

That cowardice, he supposed bitterly, was exactly what led him here, sitting alone at the suite room bar, watching as countless others flirted with you and you, right back.

A few times your eyes had tracked him across the room; one time, you looked as though you were about to push through the throng of people shoved into Tengen’s suite to come talk to him, but a hand on your bicep caught you and diverted your attention.

It’s then that Sanemi snaps. The moment he watches as the asshole in question pulls you against him for a slow grind, that jealous, monstrous thing in his chest rears its ugly head, growling and gnawing to be let free.

He’d hoped, for one pathetic moment, that you would push the man away, shake your head, do something that indicated you weren’t the least bit interested in him, no matter how fascinating his multi-colored eyes were, or how charming his feral grin was, but you didn’t. And the moment he sees the douchebag pull your hips flush against his, Sanemi knows he needs to get some air.

So with less grace than he knows he probably should show, Sanemi shoves his way towards the door leading out the suite and into the hallway.

Fuck it, he decides. He would go back to his room, several floors below, take a shower and hit the fucking hay. His birthday was bullshit, anyways.

He storms towards the elevators, slightly tipsy and certainly angry. He stabs a finger against the down button, his leg bouncing as he waits for the elevator to come and save him from his own party.

“What’re you doing out here, birthday boy?”

His stomach sinks to his ass at the familiar cadence of the voice behind him. Reluctantly, he turns and sees you making your way down the hallway wall, a smirk on your pretty lips and looking downright sinful in that flimsy, silvery dress that barely reaches the middle of your thighs.

That damn elevator can’t come fast enough.

“Go back to the party,” he says tightly, though he still won’t look you directly in the eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt your good time.”

You draw up short. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanemi only scoffs and jabs frustratingly at the elevator button, willing for the telltale ding that will allow him to step into the lift and get far the fuck away from this rager he didn’t want.

From you.

“What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” You push, resuming your advance on him and shortening the space between your bodies. “Sanemi —“

“Save it,” Sanemi bites, and because he cannot help himself, he adds, “I just don’t particularly feel like watching you spread your legs for some lowlife asshole who can’t be bothered to remember your name.”

You blink, comprehension dawning on your face before melting to anger. “That’s what you’re so pissy about?”

Sanemi silently begs the elevator to hurry the fuck up, because now you’re only a few feet away from him and he doesn’t want you to see his fraying restraint.

You fold your arms across your chest, hip jutting out to the side. “You’re acting like a bitch because some jackass tried to grind on me? Why do you even care?”

Sanemi dodges your question with ease.

“You’re the one who fuckin’ followed me out here.”

The elevator dings and Sanemi is damn near falling to his knees in gratitude at its timing. The double sliding doors have barely finished opening before he’s already inside, jamming his finger into the button marked 26, praying it’ll move faster than it arrived.

The doors start to close but a pair of hands slam against both sides of the doorway, preventing them from joining in the middle.

You stand in the center of the threshold, eyes bright and nostrils flaring, the elevator doors half-closed around you.

“It wasn’t easy to throw this party together y’know,” you snap at him, and dully, Sanemi thinks the glare you give him is strong enough to wither plants. “Everyone went out of their way to try and make you feel special, but you’ve been nothing but an asshole about it.”

“I didn’t ask you all to do this — I begged you not to,” Sanemi retorts just as hotly, his arms folding across his chest. “I didn’t want a fuckin’ party.”

“Well, what do you want?”

the silence that stretches between you is more telling than any answer he could have given. By the way your lips part, you seem to realize it at the same moment he does, and that’s when Sanemi knows he’s fucked.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, the weight of Sanemi’s unspoken admission hanging above your heads like the sword of Damocles.

But then, the blade drops, and it must impale you both, because suddenly your hands fall from the elevator doors and are tangling in his hair at the same moment Sanemi’s fingers latch onto your waist, and your mouths slam together in a fiery clash of lips and teeth.

The elevator doors slide shut behind you right as Sanemi presses you up against the paneled wall and slides his tongue into your mouth.

At the first stroke of his tongue against yours, you tense, and for one panicked moment, he fears he’s gone too far. But then you’re melting against him, and the way you tug on his hair and whimper his name against his lips makes Sanemi loses his goddamn mind.

Time stands still and there are no thoughts in Sanemi’s brain but the feel of your hands running down his arms, his chest, pushing under the open collar of his shirt to dance along his burning skin.

They can’t get to the 26th floor fast enough, no matter how fast the numbers tick past, bringing them closer and closer to privacy —

The elevator jolts to a stop, somewhere between the 29th and 28th floors, and does not move.

It’s just his fucking luck; the girl of his dreams is pressed flush against him, her lips at his ear as she begs for him, and the goddamn elevator has forgotten how to work. If his hands weren’t so busy pushing under the hem of that slip you call a dress to fondle the curve of your ass, he might’ve put a hole through the one of the doors.

He punches the button for the 26th floor again and again, his sanity fraying with each urgent jab of his fingers, yet the elevator still does not move.

If the idea that the pair of you are stranded in a metal box of death suspended over twenty stories high bothers you, Sanemi wouldn’t be able to tell — not when you’ve decided to turn your attention someplace else.

“What’re you —“ Sanemi’s voice is hardly more than a croak as your hands busy themselves with the buckle on his belt, fumbling and tugging until the leather fastened around his hips gives way.

“Shhh!” A press of your index finger to his lips silences him. “Birthday boys shouldn’t worry!”

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and suddenly they’re following you down as you slide to your knees before him.

Sanemi’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the way your half-lidded gaze drifts from his face down his body, coming to rest on the tent of his briefs, jutting out from between his thighs.

Your voice is syrupy and warm as you whisper, “I guess I should let you have your first gift,”

Sanemi forgets how to breathe when you peer back up at him, your eyes suddenly round and wide; he nearly forgets how to stand when you lean forward and press your cheek against the side of his cock where it strains against his underwear.

Sanemi sucks in sharply through clenched teeth at the sudden rush of cold elevator air against the heated, sensitive skin of his bare cock, your fingers having tugged him free from the confines of his briefs.

“F-first?” He can’t stop the way the question stutters out, not when your lips, just barely gazing against him, drag from his base to his tip. The soft exhale of your warm breath up his length has his hands shooting behind him for something — anything — to grip.

You hum in confirmation, and Sanemi’s vision almost blacks out when your tongue peeks past your glossy, red-stained lips to trail over his leaking head.

“But you’ll have to wait ‘til we get to your room before you can unwrap the next one.”

Sanemi swears he’ll set the entire hotel building on fire if the elevator doesn’t start working in the next fucking minute. His vicious promise, however, fades to the back of his mind, along with every other coherent thought he’s ever had as your lips part around his head and you take him into your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Sanemi hisses and his head falls back against the elevator wall with a dull thump.

You him pleasantly around his cock and Sanemi nearly cums right there, the vibrations from your mouth too sweet, adding gasoline to the already raging inferno of his desire.

At first, you keep your hands primly folded behind you, only allowing your mouth to work his shaft. Every time you slide up off him, you curl your tongue against the underside of his cock and every time, Sanemi has to draw upon every morsel of self-restraint he possesses to not buck further down your throat.

But soon, your hands pat their way to his, and you bring his hands against either side of your head. You hold them there for only a moment, just long enough for Sanemi’s stomach to flip as he realizes what you’re giving him permission to do.

You peer up at him with those big eyes, so wide and deceptively innocent, and he knows you’re trying to kill him.“Motherfucking — Y/N,” he moans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck.”

With his grip in your hair secure, Sanemi begins to fuck your mouth. His cock slides in and out of your heat, every push shoving a little more of himself further into your mouth. You only relax your throat, your tongue still curling against the underside of his shaft in a way that makes Sanemi see white.

Sanemi’s hold on your hair tightens. “Fucking take it,” he pants, hips bucking against your face. “My little cock whore.” From his position over you, Sanemi can see the way his words make you squirm with need, your answering moan long, and deep.

Your hands flutter to the side of his thighs, and Sanemi almost winces at the prick of your nails against his skin. But despite the saliva steadily trailing down your chin and the guttural sounds choking in the back of your throat, you’re tugging him closer, your fingers inching around to grip his backside, pressing him closer and closer to you until your nose brushes his groin.

The elevator jolts with movement and resumes its descent, but neither of you notice. All Sanemi can focus on his the way his tip bumps against the back of your throat, and how your cheeks hollow against him as he ruts into your mouth.

Sanemi makes a strangled noise in the vague shape of your name. “I-I’m gonna —“

You only need to swallow around him once before Sanemi is filling your throat with his cum. With a deep groan, his head drops back, his hand splayed across the back of your skull, keeping your nose pressed against his base as he rocks his hips, his cock twitching violently in your mouth.

His eyes fly open when he feels the wetness from your tears against the sensitive skin of his groin, and he’s quick to pull out of your mouth. Your hands bracing against his thighs as you gulp down air in heavy, shuddering gasps.

“Fuck — I’m sorry,” his hands smooth worryingly over your hair. “That was too rough, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-“

Your head snaps up, and Sanemi feels a brief moment of panic at the sight of your mascara, streaked down your cheeks from an onslaught of tears. Bht then you’re smiling at him, a big, triumphant, radiant smile, and Sanemi feels almost as dumb in the head as he had when your mouth was around his cock.

The elevator slows and Sanemi hastily tucks himself back into his pants. The moment his belt is refastened, his hand is on your arm, gently guiding you up to stand right as a ding! sounds, and the doors slide open to reveal the 26th floor.

You step out first, turning back to him expectantly. “Well? What room?”

Sanemi’s heart falls to his ass as he beholds the assured confidence blazing in your eyes. “2602,” he manages to croak.

You tug him out of the elevator and for a few moments, he’s dumbstruck by his good fortune. It almost feels like a dream, that your here, leading him down the winding hallway of this oversized and overpriced hotel, eager to get back to his room and do whatever the hell it is that’s lit that fire in your eyes.

Sanemi’s awe is short-lived, replaced by a crashing wave of need and boiling desire, hot and furiously bubbling under his skin. His hand tightens around yours and he jerks you around, spinning you until you’re caged tightly between the hallway wall and his chest.

His mouth attacks your neck, biting and sucking his claim into your skin, no matter how temporary. Your leg hikes up to hook around his hips, your foot pressed against his calf, and it seems neither of you care that you’re very much still on an open hallway as opposed to the privacy of his hotel room.

“I’m not holding back with you,” he whispers against the hollow of your throat. His hands slide hotly down your sides, fingers toying under the absurdly short hem of your dress, kneading just beneath the curve of your ass. “You asked me what I wanted — I want this. You.”

Your sultry giggle in his ear chokes off as Sanemi’s finger dips under your ass from behind to run firmly over your clothed slit. A breathy fuck falls from his lips as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

“That’s your main gift,” you’re tugging on his hair again until you’ve pulled him away from your throat so that you can slant your mouth over his. “Me. However you want me.”

You take his bottom lip between your teeth and suck, and Sanemi swears he’s died and gone to heaven. “As many times as you want.”

“And in whatever positions you want.”

Sanemi has never been a particularly religious man, but he thinks he’s about one nanosecond from dropping to his knees in worship of you.

Sanemi wastes no time in hauling you over his shoulder, throwing any and all cares to the wind of being seen as he slaps your ass and books the remaining trek back to his hotel room. Youre lucky his room is only around the corner, given that you won’t stop groping his ass.

Somehow, Sanemi manages to fumble for his keycard and swipes it, and he has you inside his room and pushed up against the door before it even fully latches shut.

You’re moaning and panting just from his hands, and Sanemi can feel himself already growing hard once more. His lips are feverish as they roam from your lips, to your neck, and down to the hem of your dress concealing your soft breasts from sight. His hands are even greedier, bunching the tissue-paper-like fabric of you dress between his fingers as he explores the curves and dips of your body.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

From the way your hands drag down his chest, fingers sliding between the undone buttons of his shirt to explore his chest, he knows you’re just as starved as he is.

With a slight whine, you push him back, breaking your kiss. Sanemi looks at you, but the question building on his tongue does as you kick your heels off, your fingers flying to the straps of your dress.

Sanemi feels locked in place by the heat of your gaze, and he swears he can feel his pulse tick in his neck. One by one, you push the straps of your dress from your shoulders, letting the satiny material fall down your waist and puddle around your feet.

If Sanemi thought he was losing his mind before, he knows for certain that he likely needs to be committed now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sanemi’s stare is unabashed and gaping. For beneath that flimsy scrap of shiny fabric pretending to be a dress was not your bare skin, but dark green lace and mesh and corset paneling.

A teddy.

You twist slightly so you’re looking over your shoulder, fully exposing your ass and the thong-like back of your one-piece to the slack-jawed birthday boy.

“I figured you would like this one.”

Your words knock Sanemi right off his axis, his head spinning so fast, it’s a miracle it’s still attached to his shoulders.

You’d worn fucking lingerie for his party.

For him.

You’d gone out of your way to wear something you thought he would like on the mere chance you’d end up as you were now, here in his room. You’d planned for it.

You didn’t leave him any other choice; he was going to fucking ruin you.

His hand flies behind his neck to grip his shirt, ripping it over his head and throwing it unceremoniously to the side.

Sanemi doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your pupils blowing wide at the sight of the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.

He kicks off his shoes and his hands shove his pants quickly down his legs, grateful that he hadn’t bothered to refasten his belt or button after the stunt you pulled in the elevator.

“C’mere,” he orders, roughly. Left in just his black briefs, he lunges forward to take you into his arms once more.

Your peal of laughter as Sanemi throws you onto his king-sized hotel bed is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. He wastes no time pouncing on you, eager to reconnect your lips, to kiss you until you’re left as breathless and wanting as he is.

Between messy kisses, Sanemi’s hands make their way down your body, squeezing and marveling at the way your body seems made for his touch. And as if the feeling of your skin beneath his palms isn’t enough to drive him wild, you’re so responsive to his touch. Every stroke of his hands seems to bring you alive until you’re practically thrumming with want and begging him for more.

His fingers slide over your lace-covered cunt and he swears at the dampness he feels clean through the fabric of your teddy.

“Eager, are we?” He hums, his lips following down the path he traced with his hands. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips buck impatiently against him as his face settles between your thighs. He grins at your desperation, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your inner thigh until he reaches your covered slit.

He lets his tongue peek out between his lips and drags it over until he reaches your other thigh, groaning at the faint taste of you dampening the lace.

Sanemi’s fingers push under the edge of the teddy, a breath blowing past his lips when he connects with your dripping cunt.

“Look how fucking soaked you are,” he says in awe, marveling the way your slick coats his fingers. “Is this all for me?”

You groan, pushing your hips down to grind harder against his hand.

“Just fuck me already,” you huff. “I’m ready now.”

Sanemi tsks softly at you. “You need to ask a lot nicer than that, sweet girl.”

Your impatient demands taper off into soft moans as Sanemi sinks a single finger into your entrance, his cock growing impossibly hard at the feeling of you clenching easily around him.

Sanemi practically trembles at the thought of sinking into your heat, of how you might feel clenching and pulsing around his length while he fucks you the way he’s been dreaming since he met you.

But while he might be pent up, Sanemi isn’t so much of an asshole that he wouldn’t make sure you were good and ready to take him.

So he simply tugs the crotch of your teddy aside and without any further teasing or torture, he latches his mouth to your cunt with a deep moan.

As his tongue darts between your folds, Sanemi realizes that all the cake in the world couldn’t compare to how fucking sweet your pussy tastes.

You cry out, his name stuttering out between a staccato of moans and cooes for more. Your hands twist in his hair, alternating between pulling his face closer to your core and pushing him away, the pleasure almost too much for you to bear.

Sanemi thinks he could get drunk on your taste. His eyes open to watch the way your face pinches, how your jaw goes slack to let his name drip from your tongue.

Your hands unwind from his hair to tug at the sinful draping of lace fitted against your body like a glove. “Off,” you whimper. “Off.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you want. But after another plea of “off,” Sanemi’s hands are already working to push the teddy down your lithe form.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes, dragging the lingerie off your legs. Sanemi swears softly at the sight of you, bare and spread out on his mattress, your body pliant and ready for him to use however he chooses.

“S-Sanemi,” he can’t suppress his grin at the apparent whine in your tone. “I feel so — so empty —“

He doesn’t try to hold in the groan resounding deep from his chest. Youre asking — practically begging — for his cock, and Sanemi doesn’t have the willpower to deny you.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, and suddenly your body is caged under his, his hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of your thighs. “I need to be in you.”

His lips dance feverishly up the side of your neck until they reconnect with yours.

For a moment, your kiss slows to something more sensual and passionate, as opposed to the heated and frantic kisses you’d exchanged earlier. The sigh you exhale against his mouth is the sexiest thing Sanemi has ever heard, and the feeling of your fingers latching in his hair is a sensation he never wants to forget.

Your tongue swipes along his lower lip in a silent request for entry that he’s only too happy to grant. You moan against the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Sanemi knows he’s been head over heels for you for a long time, but the way your tongue dances languidly with his has him utterly undone.

If you wanted to, he’d let you swallow him whole.

Your kiss melts into something more needy and frantic, and Sanemi feels your wetness grind down against his thigh, a pleading whimper building on your lips. With an eagerness that makes his head spin, your legs shift to lock around his waist, and one of the hands you’d had latched in his hair drifts down his abdomen until it finds his cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

“I’ve got a condom —“ Sanemi manages between desperate kisses. “In my wallet —“

But your legs tighten around his hips and your hand pumps harder at his stiffened length. “Don’t need it,” you murmur against his lips. “On the pill.”

Sanemi thinks he might pass out. “Fuck — are you sure?”

You nod, eyes bright and alert even in spite of your sleepy, fucked-out smile. “Wanna feel you, baby.”

Don’t have to fucking tell him twice. Especially not when you’re calling him baby, even if it’s a pet name you’ll only use on him for the night.

With deft hands, Sanemi flips you so that your front is pressed against the mattress. You scramble beneath him to plant your knees, raising your ass high in the air, your cunt held out in an offering he could never refuse.

He gives one of your pert ass cheeks an appreciative smack before he shuffles forward on his knees. He rests one foot on the outside of your leg, parallel with your hip, and slots his other knee between your parted thighs. One hand grips the base of his cock while the other kneads at your hip, holding you steady while also keeping your limbs relaxed as he lines his tip up with your dripping entrance.

“Unless you say otherwise, ‘M goin’ hard,” he warns, his voice rougher than gravel. “Been waiting too long to do this.”

Ever the devilish little minx, you wiggle your hips back against him, and his breath chokes in his throat when your wet heat catches him at his tip.

You look back over your shoulder and Sanemi’s gaze darkens at the challenge in your eyes. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

Sanemi decides to respond to your taunt not with his words, but with his body. In a single, fluid movement, he plunges his cock deep into your heated core, his fingers tightening around your hips with bruising force.

“Jesus fuck,” he pants once he’s fully embedded to the hilt inside your warmth.

It’s unreal; the feeling of your silken, pleasure-soaked walls moulding around his cock like you were made to take him sends a bolt lightning surging down his spine, making him shudder.

A cross between a cry and a scream tears from your throat, muffled only by the press of your mouth against the starchy blankets of his hotel bed. He’s about to ask if you’re okay, if you want him to go slow for a bit since he knows he’s a larger than average. but then you’re throwing your hips back against him, circling and grinding and mewling for more.

“Fuck me,” you moan. “Fuck me, Sanemi — please.”

“God fucking damn,” Sanemi hisses through clenched teeth. And he knows he can’t deny you, not when your whining so prettily for him; nor when your pussy feels this fucking good.

He draws back, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remains. He lingers there, for just a hair’s breadth of a moment, teasing.

Your impatient whine doesn’t last long as Sanemi slams you back onto him, the sound choking off in your throat. He doesn’t give you time to recover; he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips and drives his cock into you again and again, pounding a relentless rhythm into you that has you sobbing into the mattress.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You blubber, your fingers fisted into the blankets below for purchase as you push yourself back to meet his frenzied thrusts.

Sanemi can’t tear his eyes away from where his cock, shiny with your wetness, disappears in and out of you. “You’re taking me so fuckin’ well,” he says in awe. Your pussy is gripping him like a vice, practically sucking him back into your heat. “You like letting me use you, huh?”

Sanemi shifts so that his weight is on the knee resting beside your leg, allowing him to push harder and deeper into your cunt. You try to lift your head, but Sanemi’s hand leaves its place on your hip to press down on the back of your neck, squeezing lightly.

“Oh f-fuck,” you groaned, voice slightly muffled from where your face was half-pressed into the mattress. “Oh god — just like that — D-daddy, yes —“

Sanemi’s hips stutter. Daddy. No one has ever called him that in the bedroom before, but fuck if it doesn’t somehow make him harder than a fucking diamond.

Especially because it seems like it slipped out of you without much thought, your eyes too busy staring at the back of your skull as every punishing thrust of Sanemi’s cock into your pliant cunt makes your body bounce against the mattress.

He likes it. A lot.

“Should’ve known you’d have a daddy kink, filthy little thing,” he groans, his hand reaching under you to toy with your swollen clit.

You only moan in response, and Sanemi can’t help but to swirl his fingers around that nub, savoring the way it makes your thighs quiver beneath you.

The hand still pressing against the back of your neck slides up to grip your hair, and Sanemi pulls your head up from the bed. “Do you call everyone ‘daddy,’ sweetness, or just those who fuck you the way you like it?”

“Not everyone” you gasp, voice strained against the tight arch of your neck. “Just you — ah! Only you.”

With a growl, Sanemi’s arm locks around your middle and hauls you up until your back is flush against his chest. One hand wraps around your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks to keep your head back as he continues pounding into you.

“Look at you,” his exhales hotly against your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. “Daddy’s pretty little toy.”

Your thighs quake in their effort to keep you up. Your moans raise an octave, warbling out of your throat as you settle heavily against him, utterly helpless against the pleasure rolling through your body.

Sanemi’s hand drops from your jaw to drag teasingly down your torso. When he reaches your lower belly, he presses his palm flat, the pressure allowing the blunt head of his cock to rub against that sensitive spot that makes you sing his name.

“You feel that, baby?” And the whine that slips out of you is one he wishes he could bottle up. “That’s all me — that’s how deeply I’m fucking you.”

He’s practically holding you up, your limbs little more than jelly, but he doesn’t mind. He only increases the pressure of his hand, rubbing slightly over the softness of your stomach.

“And that’s where I’m gonna fill you up, ‘til you’re nice and full, hm?”

A stilted cry of his name is dragged from your lips, and Sanemi swears he’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d let him.

It’s not lost on him that this is likely a one-time thing; that you’ll likely leave his hotel room and the two of you won’t speak of it again, but he can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

It doesn’t matter if this is just a slightly drunken hook up — it doesn’t matter to him if it’s just sex. You’re letting him use your body for his pleasure, and that thought is enough to make his brain turn to liquid between his ears.

Sanemi falls back against the bed, bringing you with him, your back still pressed against his chest. He winds an arm around one of your thighs, holding it open to allow himself to continue fucking up into you with the speed of a racehorse.

“God you’re so fuckin’ tight — don’t want me to leave, do you, precious?”

He chuckles in your ear, catching your lobe between his teeth. His hand wedges between your thighs to play with your clit again, and the way your pussy flutters around him signals that you’re right on the precipice of your orgasm.

The first of the night, if he had anything to say about it.

“Maybe I should make you my own personal cocksleeve — would you like that, sweetheart?” You’re mewling, nodding frantically as you squirm and thrash atop him.

“Would you like to sit on Daddy’s cock all day, keep him nice and warm?”

“Yes!” You sob, and Sanemi’s fingers circle your clit even harder, determined to to make you cum. “Yes, ‘Nemi, please! I’ll be your good girl — I’ll be so good —“

Sanemi’s pace falters slightly at your words, a new idea — a wicked idea, forming fast in his mind. “You will, huh?”

He abruptly pulls out of you, though the anguished cry that rattles out of you at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heartstrings. After all, you’d been so close.

Sanemi wastes no time flipping you under him, hooking both your legs over his muscled shoulders until the underside of your thighs press flat against his chest.

“You’ll cum when I say so,” he shoves his painfully hard cock back into your pulsing warmth, his knuckles turning white under his grip against the rumpled blankets as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back at the feeling of being sheathed back inside you once more.

“And you’re gonna fuckin’ look at me when i fill you up,” Sanemi snarls between ferocious snaps of his hips. “I wanna see that gorgeous face when I cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“Yes! Yes s-sir.”

“Yeah? And who’s fucking you this good?”

“Y-you,”

He ducks his head down to nip sharply at your breast. “Try again.”

“You are — D-daddy,”

Sanemi’s pace only increases. “Still not what I’m looking for, princess,” he’s borderline cruel and he knows it, but he also knows what he wants. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

You don’t answer; you can’t, given how slack your jaw has gone, your mouth frozen in a perfect “o” as Sanemi pushes the head of his cock right at that spot deep within you that makes you seize down on him hard enough that he sees stars.

He growls your name and when you still don’t respond, he snaps his hips particularly hard against yours.

“Say it.”

His hand shoves between your bodies, and Sanemi pinches your clit harshly between this thumb and index finger.

“Sanemi!” You wail, writhing under him. His fingers rub soothing circles against your clit, though the relentless thrust of his cock does not ease.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, and the pressure of his fingers against your throbbing nub increases. “Now cum on this fucking cock.”

That does it.

Your back arcs sharply up off the mattress, thighs tightening around his hips as your cunt clenching around him with earth-shattering force. Sanemi feels a smug wave of pride as a surge of fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin.

You fall back against the bed, limp and spent, but Sanemi isn’t done with you yet; you won’t be, not until Sanemi has left his mark.

He shifts over you, his full weight pressing you down into the mattress; his hands pushing your knees up until they’re level with your chest. You sigh and hum, still wading through the haze of your orgasm, but given the way you let your thighs spread a little wider, you’re aware enough to know that Sanemi is readying you to take his release.

It’s not enough; Sanemi doesn’t want you lost in the aftermath of your euphoria — he wants you crying out for his.

His hand grips your face, your cheeks squishing together beneath his fingers as he forces your head to tilt toward him. Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused before the clouds part and your attention is locked wholly on him.

“Beg for it,” he grits out, his hand smacking against your clit until you howled. “Beg for my cum.”

“Please!” Your cry is shrill and desperate, your hands tightening weakly around his shoulders. “Please f-fill me up — oh, Sanemi —“

He nearly loses it at the way you say his name, like it’s some damn prayer and he, your salvation, but he holds back. It’s not enough — he wants you as filthy and wanton as him.

“Use your words,” his words leave him in a single, inexorable command.

Your lower lip wobbles. “Your cum — please, please fill this pussy up. Fill me up, fuck it into me —“

Sanemi cuts off your babbling with a single, bruising kiss. He feels his balls tighten, and the prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, signaling just how close he is to nirvana.

His hand finds one of yours where it clings to his shoulder, a fruitful attempt to anchor yourself, and he pulls it away. Sanemi presses your hand back against the mattress, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Your pussy flutters around him in time with your thumb stroking over his knuckle, and that’s all it takes.

“Oh fuck —“ Sanemi grunts before he feels himself explode. With a strangled yell, Sanemi’s hips slam into yours, pushing his cock as deep as it can possibly go, and his release crashes into him with mind-blowing force.

it’s the hardest and the most he’s ever come in his entire life. Nothing else has ever or will ever compare to this.

But even as his release spurts heavily inside your honeyed core, Sanemi doesn’t relent in his pace. His hips keep rolling steadily into you, prolonging his release to the point his toes curl, and he wonders whether his nose might start bleeding.

The corners of your mouth tilt up, a pleased groan vibrating loud and wanton in your throat as you feel him fuck his hot seed right into the Eden of your body.

Despite the mind-numbing pleasure of his orgasm, Sanemi won’t let himself look away. The face you make as he fills you up is the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Sanemi stays buried in your heat for several more moments as he comes down from his high, his head dropping into the crook of your shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls out, dropping down next to you in a flurry of messy blankets and pillows.

You push yourself to your side, a hand coming to push the sweat-dampened ends of his bangs from his eyes. “Good birthday?” You tease, your cheeks flushed bright red, your eyes bright.

“The best,” Sanemi agrees, his eyes scanning your face, committing every detail of you and your post-sex glow to memory.

The two of you lay next to one another for a little while, talking and quietly laughing. Neither one of you seems eager to leave the bed, and Sanemi in particular finds himself hoping today never ends.

Eventually, nature calls and he excuses himself — reluctantly — to the bathroom. When he emerges, he’s greeted with the sight of your ass, bare and exposed as you nestle into the bed, one leg kicking lazily up into the air behind you.

Fuck, you’re too beautiful, and he is far too weak.

He approaches the side of the bed, stretching out one hand to drag teasingly down your spine, until he reaches your ass, knuckles kneading the soft flesh.

His eyes flit to the small clock perched on the hotel nightstand. Sanemi’s grin turns lupine as he reads time reflected by the green-tinted digits.

Sanemi’s fingers skirt down to your ankle, gripping it firmly in his hand. He tugs you over the side of the bed until your head dangles off the edge, your hair stretching towards the ground. “Looks like it’s still my birthday, darling. I ain’t finished enjoying my present yet,” he grips the base of his half-hard cock and taps it against your lips. “And I’ve been dying to cum all over this pretty face of yours.”

—-

True to his word, Sanemi takes him time ravishing his birthday gift. When the clock on the nightstand finally reads 12:01 AM, he flops down next to you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath.

You lay beside him, panting in tandem with him from the exertion of the night’s activities. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t sticky as a result of the heady mixture of your sweat and Sanemi’s cum.

You feel his eyes searing into you as you trail a finger through the milky white splattered across your chest — a favorite place of his to cum, as you’d learned, second only to spilling inside of you.

Sanemi hardly holds back a whimper at the way you bring it to your lips, letting your tongue lick your finger clean of his pleasure.

“You’re trying to drive me wild, woman,” he throws a tired arm over his face, shrouding his eyes. “You torture all your hookups like this?”

He’s surprised at how quickly you sit up in bed, your eyes flashing.

“Hookup?”

Sanemi props a fist under his cheek. “Well, yeah,” he winces slightly, searching for more careful words. “I don’t expect anything from you. I appreciate the birthday surprise, though.”

Your gaze is leveled, and your voice even. “I don’t buy lingerie for one-night stands, Sanemi. That shit is an investment.”

His eyes blow wide, and he feels the erratic thrum of his heart stuttering in his throat.

“I want you,” you say firmly. “And I had every intention when I followed you in here tonight for this —“ your hand waves back and forth between your chests. “— to continue.”

It’s a miracle Sanemi is able to speak at all. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grin. “Well, now that you’ve fucked me, I guess you should take me on a date.” You pause, trailing one delicate finger down his chest. “But I won’t make you wait until we’ve been on three before I let you fuck me again.”

Your hand dips below the edge of the blanket and glides teasingly over his cock, already beginning to stir once more. “You’re far too delicious.”

Sanemi snatches your hand and rolls you under him before you can blink, your answering giggle the sweetest music ever to grace his ears.

“Y’know, in other parts of the world, it’s still the 29th,” he murmurs huskily, grazing his lips against yours. “So by that logic…”

You nod, eyebrows drawn together in seriousness. “We’re obligated to keep celebrating.”

Sanemi’s lips are already trailing down your body, savoring the taste of himself on your skin. He settles back between your legs, marveling at the way your thighs fall to the side so easily to accommodate his mass.

He presses a sweet kiss against your clit. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you, darlin’?”

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Sleep nonnie again. Is it okay if I go by 🦊🌲 its easier.

Anyways I think it would be a funny scenario if you suggest to the op boys to keep their hands warm by putting them between your thighs. I know some boys would just get a heart attack if you suggest that and get a cute blush

say whAT NOW?? NONNIE HELLO AND WELCOME BACK!! (dm me so that we can be friends ur fic ideas are so out of pocket i love it); also, gonna add ace cause i see many ace thirsties out there ;)

let me warm you up ft. the monster trio//ace!

luffy:

💗when he agreed to this, he didn't know just what kind of uncharted territory he was entering. he was simply not prepared. you had given him such a soft smile, taking his hands into yours as gingerly, "luff, are you cold?" he had nodded a mindless yes because you were crossing a terribly cold patch of the sea and his hands were freezing. but then held his hand a bit tighter and whispered, "i can warm them up for you. if you like?" he was too drunk on the idea to see the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you spurred him on with your honey-like voice.

💗so now, he sat in front of you, eyes blown wide and lips trembling as his hands rested between your plush thighs. you had squeezed your thighs shut around his restless hands, claiming that it'll get him warm in little to no time. but god, this was hard (much like something else) and he was trying his best to keep his fingers still and not do anything hasty, like digging it into your soft flesh and relishing in the way your body molded to his touches. or by trailing his hand a bit upwards and seeing the way you react. 💗"luffy??" you called out and captain shook his head as he crawled out of that daze like state, "y-yeah?" "you okay?" you mumbled, voice far too gentle. you fucking minx. "you seem like you're losing your mind." good catch! because he was. luffy abruptly pulled his hands backwards lest he do something that truly made him lose his sanity. he scrambled off of your bed, heading out the door into the chilly deck in long, skitterish steps. "where ya going?" you called after him but he rushed out, yelling after himself, "JUST GONNA WARM UP WITH USSOP INSTEAD BYE" did ussop have better thighs than you? you may never know.

zoro:

💚zoro was very stupid, very. he was not the smartest tool in the shed when it came to love or crushes or dating or cooking food or social cues or emotional intelligence or— i should stop before this turns into zoro slander [i promise i love him]. but now, the bounty hunter sat with his face flushed and hands tucked between your soft, malleable thighs. he was smarter than this, truly. he knew that when you suggested that he looked cold and you can warm him up, he was supposed to say "fuck no, get out." because having a crush on you was embarrassing enough on it's own. but you had given him such a gut-wrenching, pleading look. your eyes saddened and your lips fell into a pout and oh god, what was he, if not the man who would let you ruin him? 💚ever since he was a child, zoro had always known that he would die a noble swordman's death. he would die fighting, brave, courageous, unafraid. now, he was sure he'd die from the way you squirmed and pressed your thighs shut. "quit movin'" he grunted, looking away from you as your stared at him. but you tucked your arms against your chest and the soft swell of your tits fell forward towards him so deliciously. he must have lost focus and let his gaze travel against your body cause you coughed, drawing his attention back to your face, "quit starin'." he pulled his hands back, ears going red and heart faltering. he should really stop before he gave into the temptations and pinned you to the mattress to— his voice pitched up, "i-i'm going back to my room, bye." "zoro?!" you called after the swordsman as he ran out, "BUT THIS IS YOUR ROOM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" [spoiler: he went to chopper and crushed herbs to make medicine. he wanted to get rid of some of that tension but he failed. because he put the pressure too hard and the china dish in which he was crushing the leafy herbs broke, and now chopper was hitting him square in his head, talking about how important it was to be precise in medicine and how zoro will never make a good doctor. "stop hitting me— OW" "what KIND OF A DOCTOR ARE YOU?" "IM A SWORDSMAN!" "YEAH CAUSE YOU CANNOT BE A DOCTOR!"]

sanji:

💙breath in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breath in, breath out— "sanji?" you asked, a tinge of worry at his almost fainting figure, "are you okay?!" "my love, darling, sugar pie—" the man caught his tongue between his teeth, trying to stop his head from spinning. the floor seem to sway under him, the lights seemed too bright. was he flying or was it the blood rush?? "what did you just ask me?" you look down at the kitchen floor, mumbling with a bashful smile, "if your hands are cold...i can warm them up." his heart quickened as did his fingers. he chopped the bell pepper so hastily that you were sure you saw sparks flying. "and how would you do that?" "you can keep them between my thighs, if you like?" you looked up, "OH MY GOD SANJI YOUR NOSE—" 💙i hate to cut the story short but sanji 100% fainted and you had to catch him before he fell face-forward into the pot with boiling water on the stove. sorry, he gets no bitches :( but you did look after him on the bedside and let him eventually touch your thighs so... idk, a win is a win!!! ["so, is he like dead?" zoro had asked, uninterested, as you hauled the cook's figure outside the kitchen. you were dragging him to his room as the rest of the crew trailed you. they had heard your shriek and came spilling into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. "did you give him a hug?" nami asked, amused. "hug's too much." ussop snickered, "she probably smiled at him." sanji whipped his head dangerously to glare at them, "i can hear you. and i will be poisoning your food." he looked back at you, "oh don't you worry, im still fainted." he closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. you smiled to yourself, making a note to warm him up later]

ace:

🧡truthfully, how do you ask a man made of literal fire if you can "warm him up"??? you must have not thought you plan through because you had stood in his room a bit tipsy, locked the door behind you and asked a boy [who was always shirtless cause he was so warm] that question. "huh?" ace's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. he stood up to walk towards you, "what is that about? you wanna warm me up?" "NO!" you bit your cheek when you realized the implications of your words, "i was joking, obviously." "awh, i do love when you humor me." he quipped, "it's kinda cute." "shut up." you glared at him but he gave you an earnest smile back, "if you're cold, you could have just told me." he set his finger ablaze, acting suave, "see, i can warm you up." "you wanna set me on fire?" you seethed. "no?!" "why did you light your fingers on fire?!" "YOU ASKED A MAN MADE OF FIRE IF YOU CAN WARM HIM UP? DONT ASK ME QUESTIONS?!" "i'm drunk" you mumbled. after a beat you looked down at the floor, "and... i'm kinda cold." portagas d. ace just smiled, shrugging in mock nonchalance, "we can cuddle, if you like. i've been told i'm a pretty great heater." you laughed, "hah, hotshot." ace gave you a wicked grin, "how drunk are you?" "not nearly enough." just saying, portagas d ace was better than just a "pretty great heater." he was a pretty great fu-

a/n: i love writing stupid things so much. it makes me so happy because i'm a stupid little girl giggling and typing on her laptop when she should be doing work. tagging the ever lovelies: @bokutosbiceps (resident luffy enjoyer) and @help-i-lost-my-sock (resident ace enjoyer). if you wanna be added to the tag list, please let me know (//tell me your preferences and i'd tag you in those fics)!

[bedazzlecunt]

i get sooo many asks and DMs asking for tips on how to get better at edging so i wanted to make an actual post about how i turned myself into a total edgeslut — and how you can, too! there's really only one main 'rule' to follow while you're learning how to edge, so i promise you can do it! this info should still be applicable regardless of your particular genitalia, but i mostly reference cunts because that's what i've got.

the one rule!

my ultimate suggestion for people who are new to edging and finding it almost impossible is to STOP TRYING TO EDGE. some of you are going like that's crazy edging is all i want to do! but listen to me. listen to me. we are going to get you there.

if horniness is a scale of one to ten, with one being 'not horny at all' and ten being 'orgasming' the ideal edging situation is that you get to a nine and then stop. that's really hard to do, though! but you could probably get to a four and stop, right? pretty easily, even.

that's what you want to do. figure out that highest number on that scale you can go and still stop, and go to that number. do this a lot. i love, love, LOVE touching like this, even now that i am a pro at edging, because there's zero risk of going over and it's still a great tool to keep you horny / submissive / feeling hot as hell / whatever it is you want to get out of edging.

start at bringing yourself to a four and then stop. once you've mastered that, once that feels almost too easy, move up to a five. then a six. seven. i encourage you not to cum at all while you're doing this, but also, i'm not your dom! do what you want! the point is you're touching-without-cumming a lot (which is great practice all on it's own) and you're acclimating your body to getting horny, sometimes even REALLY horny, without actually cumming every time it happens.

doing this regularly also has the pleasant side-effect keeping you aroused more often than not. if you're constantly bringing yourself to level seven horniness and then stopping, you are almost never going to drop below level three. you are going to be turned on a LOT, which feels sooooo good. which leads to...

getting addicted*!

the thing about being always horny, about touching yourself all the time, about never cumming, is that it feels really, really good. people wouldn't do denial if it didn't! and once you've had a month or so of touching-but-not-edging and your body's adjusted to the sense of being constantly turned on and how good it feels, it gets to a point where cumming is a lot less appealing. you know it's going to take away the good, horny, happy feeling that you're getting addicted to! once you've come to really, really enjoy being constantly horny, and come to associate the idea of cumming with losing that good feeling, that makes it a lot easier to keep from going over as you creep up to higher levels like eight and nine. and even when you do go over, the fact that you'll lose the sensation that you've come to enjoy so much will just reinforce for you that it's better not to cum!

*i'm using addicted as a fun little hyperbole word here, but i do want to add the disclaimer that if your edging / horniness / etc. starts to interfere with your life like a real addiction then you gotta stop that before you hurt yourself. do not actually jeopardize your job/relationships/etc. for kink.

edging!

by this point, you'll have lots of practice at masturbating without going over and you'll be addicted to the feeling of being constantly turned on — and you'll dread the thought of losing that feeling. those things combined are the peak edging scenario. this is the point when you can start trying to edge seriously; bringing yourself to a nine on our horny scale and stopping.

you will probably still go over occasionally as you figure out your actual limits — don't be angry at yourself for this, but do refrain from trying to edge again on days you go over. the last thing you want is to reacclimate your body to coming regularly. if you try to edge in the morning but go over by mistake, just bring yourself to a level eight for the rest of the times you masturbate and try again tomorrow. eventually, you'll know your limits, be addicted to the feeling of being edged, and be really practiced at doing it!

if you're still having trouble or just want to play in new ways, then find out what turns you on but you can't orgasm from. your nipples are sensitive enough to break your brain but you can't orgasm just from that? well then get to playing with them, dummy! love penetration but can't come from it without clit stimulation? tape off your clit and get fucking! i can never cum just from humping a pillow or grinding on something, so grinding is a great way for me to edge! try to find stuff that makes you really, really horny but that you can't orgasm from and really lean into those things!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for dating Wally West

Wally West x reader

warnings:

a/n: i was debating whether or not y/n is on the team or not n for this im going for y/n being a regular civilian but now im debating making dating hcs for a hero too 🤭

prompt: anonymous: “But if you're still taking requests (and speaking of fast haha), I would absolutely love if you could do a lil' something about Wally West ♡. I love that track star to bits and we're entering my favorite season ever : spooky season (or autumn for people who aren't chronically online like me). So if you'd be tempted to write some fluff/domestic stuff in autumn with Wally, I would be over the moon! 🦊”

wally is so annoying (in the best way!!)

you aren’t too used to the whole idea of dating a metahuman, every day is like an adventure

and for a speedster? you’d be surprised how hard it is for him to find the time

but he makes time

*doorbell rings*

“you’re twenty minutes late” -you

“in flash-time that’s early” -wally, holding a half-eaten box of chocolates “i got a little hungry”

on his “days off,” you could usually find the two of you on the couch with a variety of snacks scattered across the coffee table and crumbs peppering the cushions and floor

“the dog will get them” -wally

“hate to break it to you, but i don’t have a dog” -you

“should i get you a dog?” -wally

he was always so goofy

and affectionate, very affectionate!

he loved to give you cheek and forehead kisses, so many so fast

“how many was that?” -you after noticing repeated pressure on your cheeks

“going on a hundred. i’m trying to beat my record!” -wally

it always ended up tickling and you’d laugh until you fell over

“wally!! wally, come on!!” -you

you’d always get bummed whenever he got called for a mission

especially because it always happened in the middle of something (dinner, a movie, study date, etc.)

then when he came home he’d be a wreck and then you’d be a wreck because you’d see him like that

then he’d have to calm you down and you’d have to help him feel better

“you dont have to do that, im fine! i swear!” -wally while you panic and try to take care of him

being invited to the cave!

meeting the team!

“just because youre meeting a half-kryptonian clone, a martian, an atlantean, some girl with a bow and arrow, and batman’s sidekick doesn’t mean you get to think any of them are cooler than me, kapeesh?” -wally

“oh yes, i know you’re the coolest” -you

the team loves you!!!

“wow, wally, thanks for proving your s/o isn’t imaginary” -artemis

“youre welcome” -wally

“do you want to come bake with me?!” -m’gaan

“please say yes, y/n. i’m so hungry. so so hungry” -wally

“let’s do it!” -you

starting to camp out at the cave while wally is on missions

also once some more dangerous people figured out wally’s identity, you got your own access code to the cave. EMERGENCIES ONLY

you used it to surprise wally once and got a stern talking to from batman. never again

you dont really spend too much time with the team, but you get invited to most of their friendly outings!

and you talk up a storm with the others trying to learn about their lives, which sometimes makes wally a liiiittle jealous

but you want to live vicariously through these interesting people bc ur life is a liiiittle boring

“can you tell me what atlantis is like? what it feels like to be underwater and how your fighting style differs on land?” “what’s your favorite dish to make on mars? do you like communicating this way or the telepathic way more?” “why do you always wear sunglasses, man?” (you know this one dick is like wally’s bestie) -all you

seeing wally less than usual when things start to heat up in his hero life :(

causes some strain and you get so so sad :(

but he always calls you when he can and tries to make up for it

and somewhere down the road when he retires you’re able to spend all your time with him and he makes up for lost time like he promised

ok i’ll stop there. happily ever after.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ravenstrueluv // @cicatraize // @captainshazamerica // @bad4amficideas // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @jade-178 //

[taeyongdoyoung]

strawberries & sunshine

summary: your adorable best friend takes you to a picnic in a secluded spot but his intentions may be far from innocent... pairing: haechan x reader genre: smut, established relationship warnings: cnc/dubcon, corruption kink, innocence kink, pet names (angel, sweetie, my flower, etc.), mention of doctors/made-up sickness, manipulation, bf2l roleplay, inappropriate touching, rubbing, fingering, unprotected sex (pls dont), public sex (there is no one around but still), creampie, safeword is referenced but not used, swearing, degradation (reader is called slut), aftercare author's note: this concept has been haunting me for a while now and i finally gathered enough courage to put it into words 🥴 word count: 1.7k

Your best friend is the sweetest guy in the universe. Haechan is thoughtful, funny and always does kind gestures like bringing you flowers or your favourite chocolates without asking for anything in return. Despite being talkative himself, he always listens to you rant about what’s bothering you, checking to see if you want advice or simply emotional support.

Haechan is also very cute and pretty. Spending time with him truly energizes you and you trust him to have your best interests at heart 100%. Which is why you don’t think twice when he asks you to go on a picnic with him. You love eating and nature, but more importantly, you love being around Haechan, so you find no reason to worry.

When he first mentioned this idea, you assumed you two would go to a park inside the city. But now that the sunny day you chose for your picnic finally arrives, you are stunned that Haechan is driving you two out of the city, entering the mountain nearby.

“Woah, isn’t that a little far away?” you ask in amazement.

“Relax, angel, I’ll take you to the prettiest place,” Haechan responds.

You nod absentmindedly, not even a little bit concerned.

After what seems like forever, Haechan stops the car. He insists on carrying the picnic basket, as well as the blanket, and leads the way into the woods. You walk for around 15 minutes when you are eventually greeted by gorgeous green grass, surrounded by tall trees and birds chirping.

“It’s so lovely, Haechan! How did you find this?”

“I like exploring every once in a while,” he shrugs humbly.

You lay down the blanket, spread out the insides of the picnic basket and sit down, satisfied with the results. There are strawberries, little croissants, ham and cheese sandwiches, French macarons, some homemade kimbap and lemonade. It is so peaceful and quiet here, you really needed an escape from the big city.

You don’t talk much, too busy eating, enjoying the sweet strawberries, the bright sunshine and the lovely atmosphere.

“Oof, I’m so full,” you groan at some point.

“That’s the whole point of picnics, isn’t it?” Haechan chuckles.

“So true!” you laugh.

You two put the remaining food back into the basket and place it on the grass, making space for you to lie down on the blanket.

“To be honest, I’m still kinda hungry,” Haechan murmurs bashfully.

“What? Why didn’t you say so before we put the food away?” you exclaim in surprise.

“Not hungry for anything inside the basket.”

“What do you mean?” you ask innocently.

“I’m not just hungry, I’m also in a lot of pain.”

“Huh? Should we go back to the city for you to see a doctor?” you are instantly concerned for your friend’s well-being.

“Oh, I’ve talked to many doctors already and they all said the same thing. There is only one cure possible for my sickness,” Haechan explains patiently.

“Well, what is it? If there’s anything I can do to help you…” you offer without thinking.

“There is, actually. But do you promise to do anything for me? You’re my best friend, right? You wouldn’t want me to be in pain?”

“Of course not, Haechan! I promise I’ll try to help you but you gotta tell me what kind of pain are you talking about?”

“How about I show you instead?” Haechan’s lips tilt in the slightest of smirk. You are confused by the change of his expression, when he grabs your hand and puts it on his heart. “First, it hurts here.” Then, he moves it so that your hand is now placed on top of his cock. “But it also hurts here.”

“Oh, Haechan,” you sympathize with him. Truly. “This is so strange but I think I might have the same sickness?”

You take hold of his hand and place it on your breasts.

“It hurts me here, as well,” you blink at him softly, then move his hand to your clothed pussy so he touches it through your floral dress. “And here.”

“My angel, I had no idea you were also suffering from this cruel sickness. Do you think maybe…we could be each other’s cure?”

“I don’t know, Haechan…Isn’t it wrong to feel this way?” you express your doubts.

“Oh no, sweetie, it’s completely normal, at least that’s what the doctors said. If we help each other, the pain will disappear.”

“Well, then I guess it’s for the best,” you concede. “The hurt is becoming quite uncomfortable.”

“Same here, my flower. I think we should hurry if we want to cure ourselves of this terrible illness.”

Haechan wastes no more time trying to convince you and climbs on top of you, pressing you down. He spreads your legs apart with one hand, touching and brutally rubbing you through your panties.

“Hyuck, n-no, this isn’t right,” you cry out and try to push him away.

“Shh, my sweet, I’m just trying to cure you first. Don’t you want it?”

“N-no, I’m not sure anymore, please stop,” you whine helplessly but he is too strong to fight off.

“It’ll be over before you know it, just stop struggling, my dear,” Haechan assures you and continues to attack your pussy with his hand. Eventually, he tears your panties apart, sticking his long fingers inside of you.

“P-please, you don’t ha-have to do this,” you try your best to resist but your damn pussy betrays you, squelching noises revealing your juices all for your best friend to see and hear. You would be embarrassed if you aren’t so turned on right now. You come around his fingers so quickly and powerfully that you are unable to think clearly any longer.

“You can help me now, no? I healed you, so now it’s your turn to give me the cure,” Haechan tries to talk you into this.

“I don’t know…” you shake your head. “Maybe there’s another way.”

“There isn’t. Trust me, okay?” Haechan insists. “You promised…”

His reminder, paired with his soft yet cruel smile is more than enough to convince you. But you say nothing as he unbuckles his belt, lowers his boxers and enters you in one swift movement.

“N-no, it h-hurts, Hyuck, p-please,” you whimper around him, as he goes deeper than you could ever imagine, stretching you out to your absolute limits.

“Take it, you slut, going alone into the woods with a guy, acting as if you had no idea what’s gonna happen to you,” Haechan’s words are so unkind, so unlike the sweet guy you’re used to seeing.

“I didn’t know, I swear,” you insist, pushing against his chest with your tiny hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughs meanly, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“N-no, this is wrong, H-hyuck,” you sniffle pitifully. “We’re best friends, we shouldn’t do things like that.”

“Well, best friends ought to help each other no matter what. So, take it like the good little slut you are and cure me of this sickness you caused,” Haechan keeps fucking into you, making you feel so full and satiated.

“Am not a slut,” you argue.

“Oh yeah? Then, why didn’t you wear a fucking bra, huh?” Haechan asks, letting go of your wrists and sliding his hand under your dress, grabbing your tits roughly.

“F-for you,” you admit shamelessly. “Wanna be your good girl, Hyuck.”

“Too bad, because I wanna turn my good girl into a slut,” he snickers at you, spilling his seed inside of your pussy. You come around him without thinking and are foolish enough to think he’s done with you. Taking his cock out and using his fingers to fuck the cum threatening to spill out back into your pussy. You are too exhausted to fight back but you do your best anyway.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Making sure the cure is permanent,” Haechan explains calmly as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

Then, without bothering to ask, he flips you around so that you are on your knees, face down, and slips back inside of you smoothly.

“N-no, that’s enough!” you scream in frustration.

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough,” Haechan grunts loudly.

“Nngh, aren’t we cured already?”

“What are you talking about? The disease is only spreading further,” Haechan laughs maniacally at this point.

“Haechan, please, stop, I can’t…” you cry and plead and whimper, again and again.

“You know what to say if you really want me to stop,” Haechan reminds you. But when you say nothing, he continues using your body, right there in the middle of the woods, too far away from society, where no one could possibly hear you asking for help, where you are left entirely at your best friend’s mercy.

Eventually, he exhausts himself after cumming too many times, inside of you, on your back, on your belly, and all over the poor blanket. Haechan reaches his hand out to get water from the picnic basket, thoughtfully giving it to you. After you are both done drinking, he does his best to clean you up and make sure you are...well, alive. Taking a deep breath, he lies down next to you, enveloping you in a warm and soft hug.

“Was that too much?” he wants to know and brushes a piece of hair behind your ear gently. You melt under his touch, just like always.

There he is. Your sunshine boyfriend is back.

“No, it was perfect. So much better than what we talked about previously,” you reply honestly.

“I wasn’t too mean to my baby, was I?” Haechan needs to make sure.

“Just the right amount of mean,” you laugh. “Did I play the innocent angel part well enough?”

“Too well,” Haechan praises your acting skills. “Maybe because you were my innocent best friend back when we first met.”

“And look where that got me,” you sigh. “Miles away from home, overflowing with cum, no one to save me. Such a tragic fate.”

“Oh, come on, don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Haechan rolls his eyes.

You lean in to kiss him softly.

“Loved every minute,” you admit. Then, you grab his chin firmly. “But next time, I’ll be the one corrupting you.”

The End

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you. 

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up. 

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name. 

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.” 

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.” 

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face. 

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan. 

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.” 

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore. 

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though. 

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said. 

“five star, 

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was. 

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations. 

luke :)” 

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine. 

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else. 

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though. 

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?” 

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?” 

“well, i did help organize it.” 

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?” 

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.” 

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.” 

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.” 

“are you cold?” 

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.” 

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.” 

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.  

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?” 

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.” 

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof. 

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message. 

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him. 

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom. 

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.” 

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.” 

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.” 

“did you write it?” 

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.” 

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?” 

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.” 

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.” 

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?” 

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte. 

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole. 

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills. 

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel. 

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.” 

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him. 

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.” 

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours. 

“18.” 

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.” 

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?” 

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.” 

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy. 

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it. 

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck. 

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.” 

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.” 

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later. 

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!” 

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights. 

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air. 

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.” 

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic. 

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.” 

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!” 

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles. 

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!” 

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play. 

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you. 

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed. 

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line. 

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this. 

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

[locomoqo]

taste me too!

— eli jang x reader

details: NSFW CONTENT, fem bodied reader, cunnilingus, face sitting, takes place after Allied takes on workers

A/N: he should just wife u up, yenna needs a new momma #tbh , also this one's short hihi (^u^)

Time and privacy.

Two luxuries Eli had been deprived of ever since the fallout between the four major crews. He barely had time for himself, his family, or you. And when Hostel was attacked, he had no choice but to work overtime to keep his family safe. Time and privacy slipped away completely, stolen by the chaos.

But now? Now, he was making up for it.

“E-Eli—” you gasp, trying to lift your hips off his face, but his strong hands grip your thighs, pulling you back down with firm, deliberate force. The lewd sound of him slurping up your arousal makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but the heat flooding your body drowns out any hesitation. You’d been hesitant at first, worrying you might hurt him—what if he suffocated? But Eli only thought it was cute.

After a little coaxing, here you are. Straddling his face, his grip unyielding as he devours you with intense focus. How many times have you cum? Twice? Thrice? You’ve lost count. It doesn’t matter when he’s making you see stars over and over again.

“Oh–ohhh!–’s s'good!” you whimper, your voice shaking as your arms tremble, fingers gripping the headboard for support. Eli groans into your soaked core, the vibration sending fresh waves of pleasure through you. His face is slick with your juices, all dripping down the sides of his jaw.

“Missed this sweet lil’ cunt,” he murmurs so sweetly, his words sending a shiver through you.

His tongue moves with precision, switching between long, slow licks and plunging deep inside you, savoring every inch of the pliant walls of your core. One of his hands shifts from your thigh to your waist, guiding your movements, urging you to grind against his mouth.

Your body responds, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles as Eli’s tongue works relentlessly. The sensation is overwhelming—his lips and tongue moving perfectly with the rhythm of your hips.

“Just like that,” Eli coos against you, his voice thick with desire. His grip on your waist tightens, fingers pressing into your skin as he urges you to ride his face harder, faster. Your legs are shaking, barely holding you up, but the way he devours you, the way he guides you with such possession, keeps you moving.

The friction of your cunt against his lips and tongue sends shockwaves through your body, every pass drawing out a breathy moan. Your vision blurs as the sensation of him beneath you becomes too much, overwhelming you.

“Eli—I ca–mmhh-can’t—” you plead, but your voice breaks into a desperate whimper, the pleasure making it impossible to think straight. All you can do is grind harder, chasing the release that’s building, so intense it feels like you might break.

He grunts in response, his tongue flicking against your swollen clit with renewed hunger. His other hand moves from your thigh to cup your ass, squeezing firmly as he pulls you down harder against his mouth. “You can,” he pants, voice muffled against your slick heat. “I want you to.”

His words send you spiraling. Your body tenses, pleasure exploding through you as your hips stutter against him, thighs trembling violently as you cry out. Eli groans with satisfaction, his tongue never stopping, savoring every pulse of your release as your body shudders above him.

When you glance down at him, your expression is dazed, still panting. Eli finally pulls back, giving your pussy a short break, though his eyes are dark with hunger.

“I promise I’ll fuck you after this, love, just…just let me have a bit more, okay?” His voice is soft and placating, but the way his hands squeeze you tells you that you don’t really have a choice—but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He still wants to make up for lost time, after all.

[jsfix]

Come right on me (I mean camaraderie!) - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x F!Reader

Summary: You and your teammate, Dick, hook up at a gala.

Warnings: MDNI, f!reader but there’s no descriptions, r wears makeup , P in V (unprotected. don’t do that), fingering (r receiving), praise, light breeding kink, seemingly unrequited feelings, talks about cumming in you but that does not happen, kinda exhibitionsistic? pet names (pretty girl, baby)

WC: 1,582

AN: Yes he has his wallet on him during a gala at his own house. Don’t ask me why, ask him 🤷🏻‍♀️ as always any and all feedback is appreciated!! fellow floridians pls stay safe 🙏🏻

~

You try to quiet down your moans but you’re mostly unsuccessful even as Dick puts his hand over your mouth and shushes you. 

“You gotta stay quiet, pretty girl. Don’t want anyone hearing you, do you?” He asks sardonically. 

Bruce Wayne was throwing another gala, this time at Wayne Manor. Deciding he didn’t want to suffer through the event alone, Dick had invited some of the Titans, which in turn made the rest of the bats ask if their friends/teammates could also come and so the hall was filled with almost as many heroes as there were civilians. 

As you’d never been to a gala, you decided to ask Steph and Cass for advice on what to wear and how to do your hair and makeup. It turned into a full blown makeover. You felt confident; your makeup, courtesy of Steph, was flawless, and the dress they helped you pick out paired well with your complexion. You thought you looked gorgeous and, evidently, you weren’t the only one. 

You and Dick had known each other for a long time. You’d always had a crush on him, even when he was Robin, and when you saw him become Nightwing and grow into his own, your feelings only became stronger. There was always this energy between you two. Your teammates had pointed it out but you were too shy to bring it up, too scared of changing your dynamic. Despite this, you couldn’t resist him when you ran into each other in the hallway on the way to the ballroom, his eyes raking up and down your figure before pulling you into the nearby bathroom and setting you on the counter. 

“Dick!” Your muffled moan filled the room.

“Baby,” he shushed you again, “We’re so close to the party. Can’t have you moaning so loud for me. Maybe I should stop?” He asks as he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot while his thumb rubs your clit. You shake your head, whimpering against his hand. If he stopped, you think you might actually cry. 

“I’ll stay quiet,” You told him once he removed his hand from your mouth. “Promise.”

“Oh, you promise?” He asked with a smirk, adding another finger as they slammed back into your pussy. You tried to muffle your moaned yes by biting your lip. 

“We’ll see if you can keep that promise while you’re bouncing on my cock.” He kissed you as he pulled his fingers out of your pussy. Your kisses grew hotter as you moved from his mouth down to his neck, mindful of where you sucked on his skin, not wanting to leave visible marks. Your hands slid down his body, feeling his hot skin even through his buttoned shirt. They found his belt, swiftly unblocking and unbuttoning before sliding in to cup at his length. You felt more than heard his reaction, his chest jumping as his breath hitched from the sensation. You smiled against his collarbone. For all that you loved his teasing you really wanted to see him lose control; make him moan and whimper and tell him he had to be quiet, all while working him harder. 

Before you could try that though, he turned you around and bent you over the counter. His lips found your neck as he pushed his pants down and started grinding his length against you. 

“God, look at you,” he put his hand under chin to face your reflection. “Beautiful.”

His praise brought heat to your cheeks as you made eye contact with your reflection. You looked like a mess, truly; your once perfect hair now ruffled, your lipstick and your eyeliner smudged. Worth it, though. 

“Dick,” you moaned softly, and you could see approval in his eyes. There was also a spark of something else, something he usually got during training or an actual fight. “I need you.”

He left one last kiss to your neck before pulling away. He pulled his wallet from his pants and, after rummaging through it, let out a quiet fuck. 

“What?” You asked him. 

“I don’t have a condom.” He ran his hand through his hair. 

Now. You recognize what you say next is slightly dumb. You also have no regrets. Because Dick Grayson had finally kissed you, finally touched you, after you’d wanted and waited for something like this to happen. So, yeah. No regrets. 

“That’s okay.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours. 

“What?”

“It’s okay. We can do it without a condom,” You say, now feeling awkward in your still bent-over position. “If you want to, obviously. You can just pull out.” 

“Seriously?” He said, astonished. He moved back toward his previous position, standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror. 

“Yeah.” You breathed out. “Just, pull out.” 

“I’ll pull out.” He said. Then he started touching you again, slower this time, a little softer. 

“Dick, please.” Your begging brought a smirk to his face. His hands trailed from your hips, down to your thighs, then up to your heat, spreading your wetness from your hole to your clit. 

“So needy,” he said softly, moving to press a kiss against your neck, “so desperate.” His fingers started moving faster against your clit as he started grinding against you. “Remember to stay quiet, baby.”

His hands pulled away from you to grab his dick, moving it along your slit to lube himself up some more before pressing the head against your pussy. You squirmed as he asked you ready? and when you moaned out a needy yes is when he finally pushed into you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling almost completely out of you before pushing back in, “you’re so tight.” He squeezed your hips in an attempt to ground himself before he thrusted his hips again. 

“So warm. You feel so good. Can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you raw.” His pace quickened as he watched his dick slide in and out of your pussy. 

“Dick-” You moaned aloud. 

“What did I say about being loud?” His eyes connected now with yours in the mirror as he picked up his pace. 

“Can’t help it.” You whimpered, “feels too good.” He adopted a smile as your words hit him. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed, “maybe this’ll help.” He said before shoving his fingers into your mouth. 

You could taste yourself on his fingers and you moaned as you stared at him through the mirror. He bent down, chest against your back to drive his hips into yours harder. 

“Fuck I know. Feels so good, baby. Can feel all of you. So fucking wet.” His eyes moved back down to watch as his dick slid in and out of you. “So pretty. Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He was babbling now, encouraged by your moans that were not at all muffled by his fingers. You both gave up on that, too caught up in the feeling of one another. 

“God, you’re squeezing my dick so hard. So desperate for me. Wanting me to fuck you without a condom.” He groaned. “Bet you’d let me come in you.” You let out a moan, pussy clenching hard on his length. His hips stuttered at the feeling. 

“Fuck, you would, wouldn’t you?” He laughed breathlessly as he started thrusting again, his free hand now moving to rub at your clit. “You’d let me come in you. Knock you up?” 

Of all the times you’d dreamt of being with him, you’d never imagined this. 

“Yes, Dick,” You whimpered, as he pulled his finger out of your mouth, both at his words and the tightening you felt as you came close to cumming. “Fuck, yes!” 

Feeling your walls tightening around him, he applied more pressure to your clit, coaxing your orgasm out of you. He let out a moan as he pulled out of you, jerking his cock in his fist before cumming over your slit. He rested his head against your neck as you panted, his chest pressing against your back grounding you. 

“You alright?” He pressed a kiss against your shoulder, moving to grab a hand towel when you nodded. He ran it under warm water, wringing it out before cleaning you up. He paused when you let out a hiss. 

“Sorry.” You stood up as he finished, now facing him, “Just.. you’re big.” He chuckled as your face warmed. His hand came up to fix the straps of your dress, then smooth down the fabric where it crumpled. You looked at each other, both of you trying to find words to say, wanting to talk about what just happened. Dick’s phone went off before either of you had the chance to speak up.

“It’s Wally,” he said, reading the notification on his phone, “he’s asking where we are.” 

“Okay.” You said before gesturing to your appearance, “I just need to clean myself up. I’ll meet you there?” His shoulders fell slightly before he nodded. He opened the bathroom door and checked the hallway before waving you out. You parted ways; him going to the ballroom and you going back to Steph’s room. You stayed there longer than you needed to, thinking of your time in the bathroom and what it meant now for you and Dick. 

When you finally entered the ballroom, the first time that night, no one seemed suspicious. You were seemingly in the clear. You just hoped that no one had been in that hallway. And that the Supers had stayed in Metropolis tonight.

~ 

AN: I’ve had this in my drafts for a while (it’s actually been in my drafts since August 27 I checked) but I never knew what to write for it but now that I’ve started writing smut I finally finished this so. Here it is lol. I did have this idea come to me in the middle of writing my kinktober week 2 fic lol anyway