#i just want to be touched in a loving way

[gojosprettyprincess]

ִ ˖ ࣪⭑ OLDER BF TOJI TOUCHING AND TEASING HIS SHY GF :(

Tw- just Toji being a perv :p (not proofread)

You’re comfortably seated on his lap, and the only thing currently on your mind is to peacefully continue watching the shitty comedy movie you chose about twenty minutes ago since it was movie night and you always looked forward to it but it's getting awfully difficult to even concentrate when his large hands are roaming every curve of your body in existence.

His fingertips gently glide over the supple skin beneath the hem of your tank top, while his other hand is shamelessly groping at the soft flesh of your breasts with unbridled desire like you’re some piece of meat that’s on display for him to grab and touch whenever he feels like it.

He's planting little kisses into the crook of your neck and occasionally mumbling how much he loves you and telling you how sweet you smell and all you can do is slightly arch your back and squirm under his touch because you don’t know what else to do :(

You can feel the heat igniting between your core as your tummy flutters with Toji’s every move. At this point you just want him to pull his thick cock out from his sweatpants and fuck you face down till you're drooling all over his couch but you’re way too shy and flustered to ever admit something like that.

You hated how unbelievably fast he could easily get you all riled up and horny for him and he knew it.

Most of the time Toji is the one to take the lead when it comes to initiating sex unless he's randomly waking up in the middle of the night with his twitching, wet cock nestled all the way inside of you while you’re sitting on top of him because you think it’s less embarrassing when you do it while he’s sleeping.

But now you’re so eager and your cunt is aching to be filled with Toji’s girth. You love it when his cock is stuffing the little gape in your cunt, it makes you feel so full of him but yet you still can’t get enough. You whined softly when you felt him hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pajama shorts— thinking that you’re finally about to get what you’ve been longing for.

But no.

He rested his hand on the curve of your pelvis before slowly tracing a long, tantalizing stripe along the sensitive skin of your neck with his warm, moist tongue and lifting his head to gaze at your flustered face.

“Aww, What’s wrong baby?”, he teased with a taunting smirk when he saw the cute little disappointing pout visible on your face. He was such an expert at getting on your nerves and annoying you with how much he teased you that sometimes, you just wanna punch him in the chest but even that would probably just make him laugh at you even more because of how adorable you look when you’re trying to act tough.

“Toji.. you know what” you murmured softly, your words almost lost in the quiet of the room, as you gently adjusted your position on his lap, moving to sit more comfortably on his big clothed erection that's poking out through the crotch of his sweatpants instead of just his thighs.

He chuckled at your eagerness, his warm breath tickling your ear. “Hmmm I don’t think so baby, why don’t you tell dear old Toji?”. The hand that was squeezing your boobs, now firmly gripping your hips, his calloused fingers digging into your soft skin. “Y’know I'm getting older and dumber as the days go by”.

“I n-need you” you whined softly, feeling vulnerable as you shifted your gaze downward to avoid meeting his piercing green eyes, heart pounding in your chest because you knew his penetrating stare lingered over your shoulders.

“Yeah? You need me? Where do you need me, sweetheart?”. He playfully inquired. You can feel the big pool of slick damping your panties as you feverishly bite your glossy lips. You can feel the throbbing bump of Toji directly under your needy core and you can’t stop thinking about it finally being buried deep inside the deep depths of pussy to the point where his jabby tip is resting at the entrance of your womb, he’s all you want at this point.

“Need you inside of me, Toji” you finally blurted out as rested your head on his strong shoulders in disbelief that you actually said that out loud. Toji couldn’t help but smirk before moving his fingers that were touching your pelvis deeper into your underwear till he could feel the puddle of sticky wetness soaking through the cotton. “Fuck, you’re so wet, didn't know you were such a needy slut like this”.

He rests his middle finger at the entrance of your yearning hole, feeling the tantalizing sensation of more slick trickling out, almost making him want to stuff his face into your delicious pussy and taste you but that’s for another time. “is this where you want me baby?”. He asked before planting a kiss on your earlobe. “In here?” He lightly probes at your dripping hole as you grab onto his meaty forearm.

“Y-yes— Toji”

“You want me to split your pussy open around my dick?” You whimpered at his sudden vulgar bluntness as you eagerly nodded your head like some stupid slut.

“God… you're so dirty, baby” he chuckled in a mocking tone like he was trying to embarrass you as if he's not just as eager to stuff his painfully hard and throbbing dick in your warm hole and feel the creamy mess you'd decorate his shaft with slowly tainting his cock.

[sugultt]

# ANOTHER ROUND !

☆ synopsis. classic overstimulation with jujutsu kaisen men.

featuring. g. satoru, g. suguru, f. toji, n. kento.

tags. smut, p in v, pussy eating, overstimulation, squirting, cërvix pounding, faking orgasm, mirror sex, sex toys, mentions of aftercare, bondage, dacryphilia, choking, dirty talk ( inc: praise & degradation ), all lowercase intended, not proofread.

a/n. my first fic on here 🙂‍↕️, lowkey rushed but i just need to get something out atp.

GOJO ☆ SATORU

“ girl. . . you really thought i was going to believe that shit?” satoru tuts, accompanied by a sassy eye roll, broad figure looming over your placid body.

“ w-what? what do you mean?”

“ i know that you faked your orgasm.” your confusion is adorable to satoru— despite him being rightfully upset. there was no way for him to spot the difference between your fake and real orgasms; you even mimicked the way how your walls clamped down around his cock. but then again, who is gojo satoru if not extremely observant?

“ don’t believe me, huh? guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.” satoru darkly mumbles before abruptly pulling out of you. he maneuvers your body to the edge of the bed and into doggy-style position, so that you’re face to face with your reflection and what’s to come next. his calloused hand comes from behind to grasp your jaw, “ no matter what, don’t move or look away from this mirror.”

in one harsh thrust, he rams his cock inside of you. his grip moves from your jaw to the meat of your ass instead. you gasp loudly at the feeling of being stretched out once again.

“ mmph— o-oh! satoruuu,” your shriek is punctured by the onslaught of his tip mushing against your g-spot.

pat, pat, pat!

“ touch your clit.” he made eye contact with you through mirror. he slowly pulled his hips back before sinking into your wet heat again, giving you time to do what he demanded. his dick is fucking massive, and feeling him go much slower and deeper with his thrusts has you briefly incoherent, almost forgetting to do what he wanted. “ girl, you speak the same language as me, right?” he rolls his eyes when you nod dumbly. “ then do what i say and touch your clit, princess.”

you hiccuped, one manicured hand reaching down to gather the leaking slick from your stuffed hole to smear the wetness on your erect clit in slow circles, using the two fingers that has his initials on it specifically.

“ there you goooo, look at how you take my dick the right way, so fuckin’ sexy.” satoru lets out a low chuckle of approval when his gaze falls down to the meat of your ass clapping against his firm thighs. he spreads your ass cheek open with a strong hand to be meet with your hole greedily embracing his dick, a lewd creamy ring of your combined fluids wrapped around his base.

he returns to his tempo from earlier, and your fingers speed up with him. “ hey. say how much y’love my cock.”

“ i love your cock, toru!” you panted, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your tongue lolls out lewdly when his tip grazes against your cervix as your decorated fingers work together with him to bring you closer to your orgasm.

“ yeahhh?” he questions through gritted teeth, “ yell how much you love it. i need it after you bruised my ego.”

“ i love your cock sooo much! always makin’ me feel g-good, mhmm!” you slur his name before your breath altogether stops momentarily due that oh-familiar feeling building up.

“ satoruuu, ‘m gonna c-cum— ohhh!” your breath hitches in your throat, your folded body collapses onto the bed as your orgasm washes— drains your body. salacious fluids from your pussy spray everywhere, coating your fingers, thighs, and his pelvis in a sparkling coat of arousal.

“ heh, can’t fake that now, can ya?” he leans his body down so he can be closer to your ear, looking at your pleasure stricken face in the mirror.

his hips doesn’t falter their pace— even as he reaches down to look at you, effectively bringing you to the point of overstimulation as the pleasure from your orgasm fades into momentary pain.

“ p-pull out. . . ‘m still sensitive.”

“ pull out? but i have to do it again so the lesson will stick!”

GETO ☆ SUGURU

“ suguruuu, ‘s too much, i j-just came!”

“ if you want me to be honest, i really don’t care.” suguru looks over the expanse of your sweaty body, eyes trailing down from the valley of your breasts to your spent cunt. he lowers the setting on the vibrator while running the electric toy along the inside of your thigh. “ you can take another one, right?”

“ n-no, i’m still sensitive!”

“ silly girl, if you actually wanted me to stop, then you would’ve said the safe word by now.” he ignores your shrill protests, indistinctly following the path from your thigh to your cunt. he circles your pussy lips with the object next, downright grinning at how way your body spasms from the stimulation. he travels towards his target; once he’s finally above it, he presses against your overly sensitive bud, making your body react almost instantly to the familiar pressure.

you’re unable to do anything but squirm your lower body, as your hands are tied behind you— you’re barely allowed to move away properly because of the tight clutch suguru has on your legs, keeping them open for his twisted entertainment.

“ you feel her waving at me? telling me she wants more, and here you are screaming about how it’s too much?” he coos, the sound is mocking to your ears. suguru distracts you by leaning over to press soft kisses to your damp neck before sinking his fingers into your trembling sex, deviously curling them upwards. “ yer such’a liar. i’ll let it go since you’re pretty, but from now on i’ll be listening to your pussy talk instead.”

the orgasms that he gave you with the toy only was already too much, but feeling him add his fingers, stretching you out efficiently every time, added a whole new sensation.

“ suguru. . .” you dumbly pant out. you swear you can feel his fingers and the vibrator in your throat, harmonizing perfectly to make your body a wreck. his fingers curl in your gummy heat with experience, and the vibrating motion against your clit is a constant reminder that you’re way beyond your sensitive point— but that’s what makes it feel so good. “ ‘m gonna cuuummm!”

“ what was that talk earlier then? about it being too much? that you can’t take it? silly girl,” his hot tongue glides over your ear, and you can’t deny the shiver that rocks through your body.

your nerves feel as if they’re on fire, and your strained body begs for a break from suguru’s cruel onslaught. but he shows no signs of stopping; in fact, he’s getting off on this. you can tell by his blown pupils, flushed cheeks, and the evidence of his hard on straining against his loose sweats.

“ i want you to squirt this time,” suguru demands, salacious moisture from your pussy trickling down to his forearm. every push he delivers against your g-spot feels more alive than the, and the buzzing motion on your delicate clit has your vision brightening while the uncontrollable action of your legs increases. “ and if you don’t, we’ll just have to try again until you can.”

your body arches upward, your secured arms straining against the bonds as the pressure in your lower stomach builds up until the point where it’s unbearable.

“ cum for me, pretty girl. ‘nd make it messy.”

as if on cue, the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps while suguru and his companion— the vibrator, force this mind-shattering orgasm from your fatigued body.

your face scrunches into a silent scream, warm tears falling from your eyes and down the apples of your cheeks as clear fluids erotically gush from between your thighs. you swear you can see messages from the stars as your body is drained.

there’s a tense pause in the room, filled with the whirring of the sex toy and the squelching noise coming from your cunt.

suguru switches the vibrator off when you’re done coming down from your high, dragging his drenched fingers out with a loud ‘ popping ’ sound. he gathers your worn body in his arms, peppering your wet face in soft kisses— a drastic difference given the fact that he’s the reason why you’re exhausted in the first place.

“ let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? you did so good, princess.”

TOJI ☆ FUSHIGURO

“ tuh— toooji, ‘s too much!”

toji has your compliant body in a deep mating press with a strong grip on the bend of your knees, pressing them to your chest as he digs deeper in your saturated pussy with no restraint. your feet that are positioned on each side of his shoulders, and your moans harmonizing with the noises your pussy makes with each thrust of toji’s hips are the only signs of life beneath the determined man.

the developing pleasure was too much to endure. every drag and push of his hips made all your nerves feel as if they were alive and blazing on fire, leaving your mind completely blank, unable to form words or sentences that didn’t revolve around him or his name.

“ i. . . i can’t! ‘s too much, t-too big,” you cry, gripping at the tousled and fluid-stained sheets to pull away from the frenzied man above you— but the futile action is of no avail. he tuts disapprovingly, now throwing your legs over his shoulders to lean closer to your body warmth, finding a new angle and pace to mindlessly break you in.

“ where’re you running to? this weak pussy can’t be giving up on ya’ already,” he chuckles sharply— almost devilishly, as your eyes roll far into the back of your head when his cock makes out with that specific sweet spot while briefly knocking against your cervix, legs trembling around his shoulders. “ damn. . . we seriously need to fix that bad stamina of yours.” he’s so cruel in how he teases you, while you’re barely conscious enough to keep up with each slap of his hips colliding against your lower body.

his calloused hand slithers to your neck, where he squeezes the sides just right. the breath restricting sensation makes you even more keenly aware of his hefty cock mapping out your walls skillfully— from the determination and imposing size there would be no surprise if you discovered that your walls had the outline of him etched forever: every sturdy vein and dizzying long curve.

“ tuh— ooohhh, p-please right there,” you vigorously moan, voice slightly cracking from the strong grip around your neck. touching remarkable spots beyond your comprehension. toji grunts along with you, his cock severely buried in your velvety walls, feeling like he’s on cloud nine— no, impossibly above that. “ just like that! don’t sto—“

“ don’t stop, eh? what happened to it being too much, too big?” he mocks your earlier words, voice an octave higher to add salt to the wound, and you desperately want him to shut up. “ what a bad liar you are. although i didn’t believe it for a second, my pussy will never lie to me.”

you’re trembling underneath him, seeing messages from the stars even. toji languidly contracts his fingers around the sides of your throat while he forces his hulking dick inside of your crying, bruised walls— a silent warning that he’s going to come soon, as if his slutty groans and grunts weren’t also a reminder.

you both have fucked beyond count at this point, but to say you’re fully used to it, would be a far stretch.

“ heh, gonna cum soon. your pussy feels so fuckin’ good, just f’me,” you’re so wet that your cunt is downright sobbing around him. the arousal fluid on his pelvis makes contact with your erect, throbbing clit in quick motions. his thumb and forefinger lifts from your neck to grab you by the chin when you throw your head back, pulling you back down so you can look deeply in those dark cerulean eyes that soaks up each and every one of your reactions.

“ don’t look away, doll. wan’a see this slutty face when i cum.”

the expression you make is obscenely stupid yet cute; eyes half lidded, mouth parted enough for drool to seep from the corner of your mouth while your pupils are dilated as if you were drugged. his cock being the drug, that is.

“ such’a slutty dummy. guess that’s what happens when the strongest assassin is fucking you,” his hoarse laugh breaks into a strangled groan as he hunches over.

one last thrust is all you get before he’s dumping his large load inside of you. “ fuck baby, ‘m cumming! don’t. . . s-squeeze down on me like that, shit!”

“ c-can’t help it, tooojiii,” you drunkenly slur, shivering as the warmth of his fluid floods your senses, sending chills down your spine deliciously, leaking out throughout your clamped walls, coating his thighs messily, and coming together to soil the sheets even more. your stuffed so silly of him, barely moving although toji recovers quickly.

“ tapping out already? i didn’t even make you cum this round.”

NANAMI ☆ KENTO

“ that’s it, pretty lady. keep rocking your hips like that,” kento’s head rests on the back of the couch, his usual neat and slicked hair is frizzed from the effects of your fingers gripping the sweaty locks, while his pristine button shirt has a few buttons popped open, revealing his chiseled chest. his calloused hands find their place on your hips, grounding you down in a way that you can’t escape.

“ ‘s so d-deep, kennn,” your plumped lips are turned down into a obscene pout, knees planted on either side of the couch. your hips rise and fall on kento’s length, his hands are placed on the dip of your hips, his thumb drawing steady circles on your pulsing clit while you bounce skillfully on his lap.

“ ‘s too much, can feel you in my stomach!”

“ yeah, but you’re taking it so well, pretty lady.” he encourages you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you skillfully bound his dick deep in your snug, velvety walls. “ but if you want to stop, use the safe wo—”

“ n-no!” you protest— almost shriek at the thought of stopping when you’re so close to your orgasm. each swipe on your pulsing clit and thrusts from his rounded tip brushing against your cervix build up to bring you closer to your orgasm. the sultry, fucked out look on your face, your dazed eyes continue to make eye contact despite almost crossing due to the overdrive of pleasure, almost brings him to his edge right then and there. “ don’ w-wanna stop; it feels s’good.”

there’s a brief pause, where your tempo is the same, before you switch up— going for a faster approach, the bounces on kento’s lap drastically increase.

slap, slap, slap!

the sinful melody of your skin slapping against his firm thighs, sodden pussy squelching as your walls adapt to his size while you ram yourself down on his length, and your high pitched pants and cries were the most lewdly yet beautiful song that kento has ever heard. he can feel his dick twitching inside of you with warning— that’s how incredibly tight you are.

“ ‘m gonna cuuum!”

the sight of kento’s tossed back head and eyes squeezing shut tightly is enough to make your hips continue their onslaught, pressing your forehead against his flushed chest. “ kento, b-baby— i’m cumming!” your slurred words break into a strangled whine, body locking up as your orgasm floods your senses completely.

but he takes this opportunity to be rougher with you.

“ don’t go passing out on me,” his thumbs move from your spent clit, to grip your hips tightly while his feet are planted on the floor. there, he bucks his hips upward in your velvet cunt wildly— uncharacteristic for a calculated man like kento. “ i still need to come.” your jaw drops as your eyes roll back from the exhaust; your hands press firmly into his chest to keep your limp body upright.

the new depth of his dick molding your insides, kissing your cervix, oh so sweetly, sent you on the brink of tears.

“ yes, kennn! use m-me, fill me up, babyyy.” you babble out, warm tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

“ shit, i’m right there, just hang on f’me.” with one more thrust in your wet heat, kento comes with a low groan, that you definitely feel in your own body. you feel a great warmth flood your insides and leak out on your inner thighs and his pelvis— you’re so thoroughly stuffed of him that you can barely move.

“ don’t pass out on me, baby. have to get you cleaned up,” his voice is raspy due to all the groans and strained sounds.

“ mmph. . . in a minute, ken.”

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

“ Safe Home: Night of the Young Heroes ”

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 5

Summary: He was your safe place. The only one who always keep you safe. And you were his. His home. His love. His first. He promised to always protect you... But did he?

Warning: Teenagers in love, sexual tension and intimate situations.

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

She ran her fingers through his damp, golden hair, combing it gently as she worked the dye into the strands. Jason sat between her legs, his back resting against her as she applied the color with slow, deliberate care. His head tilted slightly into her touch, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed. It was the only time he ever really let his guard down—when it was just the two of them, in the dim glow of her shitty bathroom, the smell of hair dye thick in the air.

She had never seen him like this before. The real Jason. Not the copy. Not the replacement. Just him.

And God, he was beautiful.

“Wow,” she murmured, voice soft as she ran her nails lightly across his scalp. “You’re so pretty, Jaybird.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, but there was something guarded in it. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it. It’ll be black again in an hour.”

She hummed, tilting her head as she studied him. His sharp cheekbones, his full lips, the way the light made his green eyes almost glow. He looked just like—

"Y’know," she started, a teasing lilt in her voice, "you look just like Dick like this."

Jason stiffened, shoulders tensing beneath her hands. She felt it immediately, the way his fingers curled into fists against his thighs, the way his jaw clenched.

"But you already knew that, huh?" she continued, tone saccharine, like she was talking about something innocent. "It’s why you do this, right? Why Bruce makes you do this. Gotta keep his little Robin looking just like the last one."

Jason swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He didn’t answer.

But she didn’t stop. “It’s weird, y’know? You’re like... his twin. Just with blonde hair.”

He flinched, barely, but enough that she noticed. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t start,” he muttered, his voice low, like a warning.

She leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "But you're not him," she whispered. "You never will be. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?"

His breath hitched, and she saw it—the crack in his armor, the flash of raw, unfiltered hurt in his expression before he forced it down, burying it deep.

“Bruce never wanted you, Jaybird. Not really. He only took you in because you were a replacement. A distraction, so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he lost Dick.”

His chest tightened, his heart hammering beneath his ribs.

She reached around, fingers finding his, prying his clenched fists open. His palms were warm, calloused from too many fights, too many hours spent swinging between rooftops.

"It’s okay," she murmured, pressing his hand against her chest, right over her heart. "You don’t have to be him, Jaybird. You never did."

Jason exhaled shakily, eyes fixed on where their hands met.

"He doesn’t want me," he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

She hated the way he sounded. Like he had always known it. Like it wasn’t even a question anymore.

"He doesn’t see me," Jason continued, voice raw. "He sees a fucking shadow. A mold to fill. A—"

"A copy," she finished for him, nodding.

Jason's fingers curled around hers, gripping tight, like he was holding on for dear life.

"Yeah," he whispered.

She moved her hand, threading their fingers together, grounding him. "Then fuck him," she said simply. "You don’t need him to see you. I do. I see you, Jason."

His head snapped up, green eyes locking onto hers, searching for a lie. He wouldn’t find one.

Jason’s breath shuddered, his heart pulsing harder. It was like she was saying the things he didn’t even know he needed to hear.

He swallowed hard, then let out a shaky exhale, his hand coming up to rest on hers. He pulled her closer, his forehead pressing gently against hers.

“Yeah?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, strained with something raw he didn’t know how to name.

“Yeah,” she replied, a slow, dark smile spreading across her face. “I’ll always love you, Jaybird. Even if he never could.”

She pressed her lips against his, soft but insistent, as if to pour all the poison in his mind, to drink all the doubts that Bruce had planted in him. As her hands slid around his neck, pulling him in deeper, Jason let himself sink into her warmth, into her twisted comfort.

For once, he didn’t feel like he had to be anyone else. He was just Jason. And that was enough. Enough for her.

But even as he kissed her, his thoughts lingered. She really does see me, doesn't she?

And in the back of his mind, a voice whispered, Maybe... she’s the one who’s always seen me.

The hair dye was forgotten. The world outside of that room was forgotten. There was only her, and Jason’s reflection in the mirror—blonde hair and all.

His breath left him in a shuddering exhale, and for the first time that night, Jason let himself lean into her, let himself be held.

And when she rinsed the dye from his hair an hour later, watching as the last traces of blonde washed down the drain, she couldn’t help but wonder—

How much of Jason had already disappeared down there with it?

The ropes around her wrists were tight. Not too tight, though. Amateurs.

She sighed, legs crossed, perched on a rickety chair in the middle of some dusty-ass warehouse while a bunch of greasy-looking criminals argued over what to do with her.

“Maybe we call the Bat,” one of them grunted, pacing.

“Nah,” another said, shaking his head. “The Bat’s a pain in the ass. We should—”

“Boring,” she muttered under her breath, tilting her head back.

“What?” one of them snapped, turning to glare at her.

She rolled her eyes. “I said boooring,” she repeated, drawing out the word. “You guys suck at this.”

One of the goons—probably the leader, considering how he had the most scars and the least amount of brain cells—stepped forward, scowling. “The hell you say?”

She gave him a once-over, unimpressed. “Look, I’ve been kidnapped before, alright? Plenty of times. And this?” She gestured vaguely at her tied-up state. “Weak. No drama, no creativity. You didn’t even monologue. What kind of low-tier villainy is this?”

Scarface turned red, jaw tightening. “Listen, you little bi—”

A loud crash cut him off as the warehouse skylight shattered, glass raining down. A figure dropped from above, landing right in the middle of them, cape billowing, boots hitting the ground with a solid thud.

And there he was.

Jason. Her hero for the evening.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as he surveyed the room with that signature cocky smirk. “Evenin’, gentlemen.” He tilted his head toward her. “And lady.”

She sighed dramatically. “Finally.”

“Miss me, princess?” he asked, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "Hope they weren’t too annoying."

"Oh, they were."

"Figures." Jason rolled his shoulders. "Alright, boys. You know the drill. We can do this the easy way, or—"

The leader pulled a gun.

Jason sighed dramatically. "Oh, thank God. I was hoping for the hard way."

Then he moved.

And it was beautiful.

Jason fought like he lived for this—like every punch, every kick was part of some perfectly executed symphony of violence. He ducked under a swing, spun behind another guy, kicked out a knee, and grinned as someone screamed.

He ducked under a swing, slammed his elbow into someone’s gut, spun, kicked another in the jaw. He was so dramatic with it, flipping over one guy’s head, twisting mid-air, landing in a crouch before sweeping someone’s legs out from under them.

She just sat there, watching. “Show-off,” she muttered.

Jason, currently mid-punch, glanced at her and winked.

She rolled her eyes. Dumbass.

"You guys are making this too easy!" Jason taunted, dodging a knife and slamming his escrima stick into someone’s ribs. "C’mon! At least try to make me sweat!"

The last guy standing made a run for it. Jason sighed, pulled a batarang from his belt, and chucked it without even looking. It nailed the guy right in the back of the head.

"Night, night," Jason quipped as the guy face-planted.

Then he turned to her, hands on his hips. "Now, let’s get you outta there, princess."

She huffed. "Took you long enough."

Jason grinned, stepping behind her to untie the ropes. "C’mon, doll. You love it when I save you."

"I could’ve handled it myself."

"Mmmhmm. Sure you could’ve."

He knelt in front of her, his hands working quickly to untie the ropes, his fingers brushing against her skin with a shocking tenderness.

“Thanks for the save...” she whisper, the teasing in her voice light, but underneath, there was a spark of something else—a warmth that she couldn’t ignore.

Then, before she could react, he lunged forward, grabbed the back of her chair, and tipped it back.

She gasped as the world tilted—but before she could hit the ground, Jason caught her, spinning her up into his arms like something straight out of a damn movie.

She landed against his chest, his arm strong around her waist, his other hand tipping her chin up.

Jason smirked, “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He gave her a playful wink, “You sure you didn’t miss me?” he asked, his voice playful but with a hint of something deeper.

“I was starting to think you forgot about me,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, even as she leaned into him.

“Oh, I could never forget about you.” His voice softened for a second, just a flicker of something real before the cocky grin was back, wide and dangerous. “Now, let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

He spun her into his arms suddenly, lifting her with ease as if she weighed nothing. She gasped, a little taken aback by the suddenness of it, but he just flashed her that grin again, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“You’re not gonna drop me, are you?” she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself.

“Me? Drop you?” Jason raised an eyebrow as if the idea was preposterous. “Sweetheart, I’m not that cruel.” He held her effortlessly, twirling her around once, then pulling her close again, his lips brushing her cheek as he whispered, “Besides, I’d never let anything happen to you. You’re too damn precious.”

Her heart skipped. Just for a second.

She blinked. “Oh my God, you’re such a dork.”

His hand was on her chin, gently lifting her face so that she was looking into his eyes.

“I’ve got you now,” he murmured, the cocky bravado slipping away for just a moment, replaced by something softer. “You’re safe.”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest. She nodded slowly. “I know, Jaybird. I know.”

He just laughed. “You know,” he said with a wink, his voice flirtatious and teasing, “I think I deserve a reward for my heroic efforts.”

Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her—deep, passionate, and all-consuming. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them. Her heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears, as she melted into the kiss, forgetting for a moment about the danger, the fear, and the chaos. There was only him. Always him.

"Are you two done?"

Jason groaned against her lips. “Jesus, old man, can I have a moment?”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, but there was something else in his gaze—a flicker of something that resembled fond exasperation. “If you’re going to play games, at least get out of here before more criminals show up.”

Jason chuckled, shifting her so she was resting against him more comfortably. “Oh, we’re going, old man. But I’m not done with her just yet.”

Bruce’s glare intensified.

She snickered. Jason huffed, dropping his forehead against hers. “This is why we don’t invite him.”

Bruce’s glare could’ve melted steel, but Jason was already striding toward the exit, she was still in his arms. "We’ll be fine, Bruce. Don’t worry. I’ve got her."

As they walked out into the night, Jason's smirk never wavered. He was the hero. He was her hero. And as long as they were together, that was all that mattered.

Bruce could deal with the rest.

The classroom was silent, save for the scratching of pens on paper and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights. She was seated in the middle of the room, trying to focus on the question on the board, but her mind was racing in a completely different direction.

Why was he doing this to her?

Jason was sitting at his desk, one seat over, a few rows behind her. At least, that’s what she thought—until she felt the subtle graze of fingers against the side of her leg.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She glanced under the desk, catching just a glimpse of Jason’s hand disappearing under the table, inching closer to her thigh. His eyes were half-lidded, the kind of lazy gaze he always wore when he was enjoying himself, a teasing smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

No, he’s not…

She flinched when his fingers brushed against her skin, just above the hem of her skirt. It was gentle at first—just a light caress, like he was testing the waters. But she knew him. Jason never did anything by accident.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She shifted in her seat, but it only seemed to encourage him. His fingers snuck higher, brushing just under the fabric of her skirt, feeling the warmth of her skin.

Her breath hitched. She tried to focus on the board, on the lesson, on the goddamn question about trigonometry that she could barely wrap her head around. But Jason’s touch was too distracting.

“Focus babe,” he murmured low enough that only she could hear. His voice was thick with amusement, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She barely registered the next question on the board, trying not to shift too much in her seat. She had to stay calm. She had to.

But then—pinch.

Her eyes widened as Jason gave her a small, almost playful pinch on the inside of her thigh. It wasn’t hard, but it made her jump, her face flushing with heat.

She shot him a glare, but Jason just grinned, chin resting lazily in his palm, elbow propped on the desk as if he was in no rush. His eyes were heavy-lidded, watching her struggle with a look that said he was enjoying every second of it.

She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the way his touch was driving her crazy. She couldn’t let him win. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

But Jason? He wasn’t giving up so easily.

His hand shifted again, slipping underneath the hem of her skirt—just enough to feel the bare skin of her thigh again. His fingers traced a slow path, just grazing her, pushing her to the edge of what she could stand.

She swallowed hard, gripping the edge of her desk to steady herself. Keep it together.

“Stop it,” she whispered through gritted teeth, her voice tight, trying not to let anyone notice how red her face was.

Jason leaned back slightly, shifting so that his gaze locked onto hers. There was something about the way he looked at her—half-lidded eyes, smirk pulling at his lips, his hand still lingering dangerously close to her skin. He was in control, and he knew it.

“I’m not doing anything,” he teased, his voice low, barely above a whisper. He looked at her like he could read every thought in her head. “Just keeping you company, babe.”

She clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the edge of her desk. This was fine. She was fine.

But then his fingers dipped slightly lower, and she sucked in a breath, her body tensing. It was almost impossible to stay still. Every inch of her felt like it was on fire, her heartbeat thudding in her chest, and all she wanted to do was turn around and snap at him. But they were in class. In front of everyone.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate, trying to block out the growing heat in her chest and the way her body was betraying her every time his fingers brushed against her.

"Alright, Y/N," the teacher’s voice snapped her back into reality. "Could you please answer the question on the board?"

She blinked, caught off guard, and immediately felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. The classroom had gone dead quiet, and she realized, with rising panic, that she was the center of attention. Jason was still here, still touching her, and now she had to speak.

Her throat felt dry, and her palms started to sweat. She opened her mouth, her voice shaky at first. “Uh… uh, yeah. The answer is… um…”

Jason’s hand slid higher, his fingers pressing against her inner thigh with a soft, teasing motion.

“Calm down, baby,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. His voice was low, soothing in a way that only made her blush even harder. He knew what he was doing.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, tried to steady herself enough to speak, but she couldn’t seem to find her words. Her mind was swirling, her body burning.

Jason was grinning, his head now resting lazily on his hand, leaning back with his usual attitude, watching her with those half-lidded eyes like this was just some game to him. But to her?

It was torture.

The teacher’s voice cut through the haze of her thoughts. "Are you alright, Y/N?"

She blinked, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks as she nodded quickly, unable to look away from the board. “Y-Yes. The answer is… 42.”

Her heart was racing, but she tried to sound confident, pushing the heat in her face away as best she could.

“Correct,” the teacher nodded, and she quickly sat down, her hands trembling in her lap. She could feel Jason’s eyes on her the entire time.

As soon as the teacher moved on to another student, Jason leaned forward, his chair scraping against the floor as he moved in closer. She barely had time to react before he cupped her cheek in his hand, tilting her face toward him with a grin on his lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine. “You held it together better than I thought.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned her face away, hiding the fact that her face was still burning hot. Jason’s hand remained on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin in that tender, almost possessive way that made her feel dizzy.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. But the moment the words left her lips, Jason pulled back, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“You’re so cute.” His voice was teasing, playful, and yet there was that underlying note of admiration, like he couldn’t get enough of her.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and the classroom filled with the noise of students packing up and getting ready to leave. Jason stood up, flashing a grin as he stretched. “Come on, princess. Let’s get out of here before you completely lose it.”

She awoke gasping for breath, her sheets tangled around her as if the fabric itself was trying to hold her down. Her heart pounded in her chest, her body trembling from the remnants of the fear that clung to her skin like a cold sweat. Her throat burned, constricting as if the very air had turned to stone.

Her breath came quick and shallow, heart pounding, and before she knew it, she was slipping out of bed, her feet landing on the cold floor. She knew what she had to do.

Jason.

She padded quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake anyone, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for his door. She knew he’d be up—he always was, especially at this hour. It was the perfect time for him to retreat into his own world, just like she was trying to do.

She pushed the door open, and there he was.

Jason.

The faint glow of his cigarette lit up the room, the smoke curling up lazily toward the ceiling in soft tendrils. Jason sat on his bed, his back against the wall, his eyes half-lidded as he took a long drag, the orange tip of the cigarette glowing brighter in the darkness. The faint smell of tobacco filled the air, an oddly comforting presence that seemed to settle her nerves, even though she hated the smell.

Alfred, of course, would never approve of this, but it was well past midnight. The house was quiet, and the night belonged to them—if only for a few hours.

Jason didn’t say anything at first. He just glanced up at her, those familiar, piercing eyes meeting hers. He knew. He always knew.

Without a word, he opened his arms, an invitation she didn’t have to think twice about.

She crossed the room slowly, her heart still racing from the remnants of the nightmare, and sat down on his lap. The warmth of his body, the smell of his cigarette, and the comfort of his presence instantly made her feel a little less fragile.

Jason exhaled the smoke in a slow, measured cloud, watching her as she buried her face in his chest. Her breath was shaky, her body still tense with the lingering fear.

"Bad one?" he asked softly, his fingers running through her hair, gentle and slow.

“Yeah...” she whispered, her fingers clutching at his shirt. “I hate it. I just…” She trailed off, unable to find the words. She hated how weak she felt after one of those nightmares. How vulnerable, how exposed. But with him, it was different. She didn’t have to explain anything. He already knew.

The tears she tried to hold back finally broke free, one by one, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. She couldn’t explain it—not the pain, not the fear, not the memories. But Jason didn’t need her to. He just held her, tight and steady, his body radiating warmth, as though he was trying to shield her from everything.

Minutes passed in silence, only the soft sound of his cigarette burning in the background, and her soft sobs. His fingers never stopped stroking her hair, never stopped offering comfort in his silent, steady way.

After a while, she wiped her eyes, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “Can I try it?”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “What?”

She pointed to the cigarette. “I want to smoke too.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich with amusement. “No way, princess. You’re not getting hooked on this shit.” His hand slid up her back, fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her gently against his chest once more. “Not while I’m still around.”

She pouted, her lower lip jutting out as she tried to push against him. “Why not? It looks fun.”

Jason shook his head, his fingers tracing circles along her spine, sending shivers down her body. “You don’t need this,” he said, voice soft but firm. “You have me.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but it wasn’t in the playful way she usually would. It was a quiet, sulking gesture, her chest still tight from the lingering effects of the nightmare.

Jason’s smirk faded into something softer, something more genuine, as he cupped her face with one hand, tilting her chin upward to meet his gaze. His thumb gently brushed over her lower lip, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with something she couldn’t quite place. He leaned in just enough for her to feel the heat of his breath on her skin before he softly pressed his thumb against her lips.

“Open up,” he whispered, his thumb moving slowly, gently, coaxing her lips to part. And when they did, his thumb slid inside, the warm pressure of it sending a shiver through her body. His thumb moved in slow circles against her tongue, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes, her body responding to the intimate gesture. She didn’t know what to do with the sensation—the way his thumb was pushing deeper into her mouth, the way she could taste the lingering trace of smoke on his skin, mixing with the taste of his cologne and the heat between them.

Her heart raced, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

Jason leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, the air thick and heady. And just when she thought she might lose herself in the moment, he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes—eyes that were now dark with something deeper than just affection.

“Breathe it in, baby,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Then he kissed her.

It started slow. A gentle brushing of lips, a tentative touch, but it didn’t stay that way for long. The moment their lips met, something inside both of them snapped, and it was as if the floodgates had opened. Her hands roamed up to his chest, pushing his shirt up as the kiss deepened, and Jason’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, his body pressing against hers with a desperation that made her dizzy.

The kiss became hungry. Heated. With every movement, the tension between them built, thick and electrifying. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, matching the frantic pace of her own. His hands were everywhere, moving over her skin, pulling her tighter against him.

The world outside the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the heat between them. The pressure. The need.

She gasped into the kiss when his hands slid lower, his fingertips teasing the hem of her shirt. And then she felt it—the brief, fleeting moment of something she couldn’t control. She wanted him. All of him. Right now.

But Jason didn’t rush. He never did.

His hands explored, teasing, as if savoring every inch of her skin. She couldn’t stop herself from reacting, from leaning into him, from pulling at him, wanting more. She was lost in the moment, her senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his body was pressing against hers.

Jason pulled away, breathing hard, his eyes wild, his lips swollen from the kiss. “You okay?” His voice was rough, more intense than usual. He was waiting for her answer, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face.

She nodded, heart still pounding in her chest. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

Jason gave her a soft smile, his thumb grazing her cheek. “Good. You’re always gonna be fine with me.”

And then, the kiss grew more intense, more heated, and it was impossible to stop. His lips left hers only for a moment, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “I’ll never hurt you.”

A tremor ran through her as his words sank in. His hands were moving beneath her shirt now, fingertips grazing over her skin, making her shiver at the touch.

“I’m not like him,” Jason continued, his voice rough, desperate. “I swear on my life, I’ll never hurt you. You’ll be safe with me. Always.”

She could hear the truth in his words, feel the sincerity in the way he held her, the way he touched her. Her heart ached, her emotions spiraling out of control. She wanted him, needed him in a way she couldn’t explain, but it was more than just physical. It was the comfort, the protection, the promise that she wasn’t alone.

“I’d kill myself before I ever hurt you,” he whispered, his words a dark vow that made her heart stop.

The intensity of it all hit her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. The warmth of his body, the heat of the kiss, the honesty in his voice—it all collided inside her, breaking down the walls she’d built up for so long.

She kissed him back, her hands trembling as she pulled him closer, her body pressed tightly against his. Every inch of her skin was on fire, every nerve singing with the need to be closer, to be consumed by him.

And as the kiss deepened, the world outside of them disappeared. There was only Jason, only the promise he had made, the promise to protect her, to keep her safe. She clung to him, her fingers tangling in his hair, and for once, she felt like she could breathe again.

But it wasn’t just about the kiss. It was about everything—the broken parts of her past, the weight of the nightmares, the fear of being lost. With Jason, she didn’t feel lost anymore.

She pulled away from the kiss just for a moment, breathless, her eyes locked with his. “Promise me,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “promise me you won’t leave me. Promise me I’m safe with you.”

Jason’s hand moved to her face, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. His gaze softened, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. “I promise,” he whispered back. “You’ll never have to be scared again.”

And in that moment, she believed him. She believed him in a way she never thought possible, and with him by her side, she knew she could face whatever came next.

For now, that was enough.

MASTERLIST

Next ☆ Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 6.

© luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[nemesyaaa]

sweet creature // truck driver!rafe x housewife!reader

summary : just a few mixed headcanons.

warnings : +18 content. minors dni. strong age gap. sweetheart x old man trope. smut. p in v. teasing. smoking. size difference. full nelson position bc big men lovers club here. hand fetish(sorry.). sleazy!rafe. squirting. loss of virginity. please, be aware of the warnings before reading.

author's note : muchas gracias a mi dulce @rafesangelita for giving me the idea bc i really loved to work on the concept of truck driver!rafe. shout out to crush by ethel cain too for give me the inspo of the story. <333

can't stop thinking about truck driver!rafe who's a proud working man. he's soooo bulky from charging alone some weighty goods on his eight wheelers everyday to deliveries driving for weeks and days. he's massive without forcing just because he's doing so hard with his hands on daily.

speaking of this, he's got such big sized hands. apparent thick veins on the back and calloused on the palms. large fingers with too much strength. easier for him to manhandle you or lift you up. they're very manly and rough. fat and round biceps with a strong size. he's tall and big, literally showing you without speaking who’s the man of the house, and who you belong to. you feel so secure every time he's around because you can be sure no one is touching you, no one is looking down at you, no one just dare to even glance at you. he doesn’t like to fight because he doesn't want you to think he's gonna hurt you one day, but if it's for you, he can do anything.

even if you don't like it, he's always smoking a bunch of cigarettes while he's driving and listening to some kind of old music. john denver or johnny cash are his favs.

he's always buying some new marlboro reds at the gas station with some gum when he's taking a break. if he's not smoking, he's chewing some gums until there is no flavor. he's just needs to get something in his mouth. just a bad habit.

he’s a loyal man that doesn't care about women hitting on him at the gas station. but sometimes, he's nostalgic because years ago , you were one of them. you were that pretty rebelious girl who's acting like she has no dad, no family and proudly flirting with him, doesn't give a fuck about getting away with a stranger. at first, you called him old man to joke. at contrary, he directly called you sweetheart, thinking that you're such a sweet thing.

both of you ended up in the motel. “ im curious of what you’ve got in your pants, old man. ” “ you're too young for that shit. ” “ huh, huh…don't you think it's more like you're too old for that shit, sir ? ” the smirk on his face at the moment was really something else. that fucking attitude of yours making him bite his lips.

the minute after, you were pinned down on the mattress, his whole body size over yours. “ repeat it. ” “ i said, you're too old to fuck, sir. ” “ isn’t a fucking virgin thing who doesn't even know anything about the word she's saying who's talking right now ? ” “ I'm not a virgin. ” you lied, rolling your eyes at the sight. “ i swear, I'm not ! ” he laughed softly. “ why are you lying, so eager to be a little slut ? that's why you ran away with strangers like me ?” it was the first time a man like that, and you were speechless. not in a bad way. it was just surprising. “ i think you're forgetting your manners. ” he said carefully, his blue gaze burning over yours.

“ if you want it, i will fuck you. but i need you to say it. clear and ‘oud. ” you turned your head away because there's no way you're gonna say such a thing to him. “ i will find someone else then. that receptionist girl was pre…” “ fuck me. ” you quickly said before repeating it slower and clearly. “ i want you to fuck me…” “ alright. spread those fucking legs for me, sweetheart…huh, look at you, being so wet for me…you really need me.” “ ugh, just touch me ! stop talking, old man. ” you gasped. “ remember that you asked for it. ”

“ yea, yea. ” he started to unbuckle his belt before taking off his pants. your mouth was gagging at his fat cock hanging between his heavy thighs. “ it’s not gonna suck itself. ” you gasped loudly, swallowing hard. “ i j-just don't know how to do it…show me please. ” “ fine. after all, it's my job as your eldest. ”

and that's how you consumed your first night with rafe.

truck driver!rafe who’s got such a pretty polaroid of you that stays and never leaves his truck. there is your lipstick stains on it and a sweet “ good luck ” written on the white space.

as a good housewife, you always prepare him some delicious meals to keep him fed even if he's away. you're always checking on your man' and loves when he's gaining more weight.

he's starting to get old, hitting his forties soon. he doesn't really care about his physic anymore but you still find him so attractive. when you met him, he was already a grown man so it didn't really change anything. he loves to wear a cap on his messy mullet, thinking that it makes him look cool. biggest tees with long sleeves lover. the fabric is not good enough to hide his muscular frame because his big size is so obvious. and he's wearing those blue jeans that fit his muddy boots.

he's not very hairy, but he's not the type to shave often like he used to when he was younger. he's fine with the apparent thick hair of his happy trail and mustache that makes him look like an 80's pornstar. when he's come home, shirtless and sweating, he's just serving you the best look to fuck.

you're obsessed with his scent after a long shift work. you don't care how strong he smells, you just want to hug him and never leave. while he's holding you tight, he's getting you locked on his hug, your face buried against his heavy and glistening chest. and you can't help but kiss his wet sweating tee.

even if he's tired, just knows this man gonna fuck you very hard, especially when you're so clingy to him. you can forget vanilla with truck driver!rafe, there's no way he's gonna be sweet on your fucking pussy, especially after you've been teasing him with dirty pictures of yourself while he was away and driving. also, he does need some stress relief so prepare to be dumb for at least one fucking day raw.

he's excited the moment he sees you. there is no more teasing. he's now in charge of everything and you better take everything he's gonna give you. this is not like he gives you other choices. at this moment, his favorite position to fuck you will be full nelson because you're trapped on his tight muscular hold, forced to bounce on the thickness of his dick. he's dicking you down so hard that you could hear the famous flap flap flap of his heavy balls slapping your skin.

“ don't fucking move. ” he treaths you with the raspy sound of his voice, while your body is bouncing at every of his thrusts. you're shaking loudly on his rocked abs, lips filled with drool and tears running down your heated cheeks. ” you're so fucking tight..! gonna give your pussy a big stretch…fuck ! ”

every back and forth is powerful enough to make your pussy throbs. the way his fleshy cock is moving and bruising your hole — going further and further to the point your stomach is filled with every inch of his shaft, the veiny lines of his dick pulsating inside your cunt and growing harder on your belly. all your whines and cries are nothing for the truck driver, nothing more than a sign to fuck you even faster and stronger. he still holding your twitching body against his toned chest, feeling every squirms of yours on his sweaty skin, and his hands grips at your back legs, while giving you the craziest thrusts. his hands feel so warm and huge on your lower tummy, fingers bruising at your belly while his length is striking to your spot each time. “ you're d-deep…fuck, rafe !! ah…it feels so good…” you cry out of emotions, tears bursting on your face again. “ yea, right ? fucking deep’. you really feel it inside you baby. ”

he's stretching your cunt so well that you can't stop screaming and quivering, feeling his sweat sticking to your body. his breathing is hard and heavy on the side of your cheeks, his jaw slacks but he keeps his mouth wide open loudly panting and getting deeper and stronger, lips tugging at your ears.

he's such a bully. i mean, his dick is. hitting and hitting your g-spot with any fucking breaks, always striking at it like a weapon. getting no mercy and pity on the way he's making you cry. he loves to see your face turning dumb, eyes wide shut, mouth leaking too much saliva, stupid babbles coming from your trembling lips. he's just pushing himself so deep inside your swollen core, breathy moans filling his lips as his cock hardly twitch between your walls, making your throbs even more. you can't even breathe without choking on yourself.

it's like he knows how to take all your energy with his thrusts. his cock won't leave your pussy alone, the veins still hard and bulged with pumping blood, and balls full even after your first orgasm. but not only he wanted you to come but to squirt too.

“ r-rafe, i feel it coming…nghh! ah stop. i c-ca…” “ just let it go, baby. can you do that for me ? ” and it happens just two seconds after, your stretched pussy opening bigger to splash a strong liquid over your folds and making a pool everywhere on yourself. you can't even process the situation that his dick is back into your walls again, merciless pounding your wetted hole. with the same fucked pace. you're such a shivering mess you can't feel anything except the length that's driving hard in your soaked insides. now that you're squirted, it's such a big wet place on your cunt. and he leads him to make you squirt another time. the sound of your pussy pumping his dick is so squishy and loud.

when he comes inside you, you can be sure it's gonna leak a lot from your slick. he's gonna fuck until his balls are empty, and your pussy gonna coats with so much of his sperm.

to be sure of his cock being dry, he's softly slapping at your lips with the tip, and making you clean it. he loves how sloppy you're sucking when you're tired, but he's a hard sucker for the look you give him when his dick weakly falls out of your mouth, and a stream of his sperm sticks at your lower lips.

and you're just off, laying your body back to the sheets.

you can't believe this man was soon forties. you simply can't believe it.

[theeggbox]

a) this post was how i found out some people hate hector and like what?? yes he's a psycho (they all are (all of them. your fave is not an exception)) but he's also a really sweet wife guy and a really cute dad who just wants the best for his city

b) YES YES YES on the epics and original texts being really entertaining! i want to make a proper post on comedic moments (or at least, moments which are comedic to modern audiences) but just off the top of my head:

in book 4 of the odyssey helen gets annoyed with all the men crying over how much they miss odysseus and just drugs them

in book 8 of the odyssey all of the phaeacian youths' names are boat puns

in book 9 of the odyssey polyphemus loves cheese making and knows all of his sheep by touch alone

in choephori by aeschylus clytemnestea decides the best way to persuade her son not to kill her is to get her tits out

c) equally, almost everyone is a rapist/murderer/philanderer/misogynist. be prepared for this. there are almost no "good people" by modern standards in classics

d) i feel very sorry for all the epic the musical fans who are going to learn how much odysseus cheats on his wife in the actual odyssey

a quick psa to anyone recently getting into greek mythology and is a victim of tumblr and/or tiktok misconceptions:

-there is no shame in being introduced to mytholgy from something like percy jackson, epic the musical or anything like that, but keep in mind that actual myths are going to be VERY different from modern retellings

-the myth of medusa you probably know (her being a victim of poseidon and being cursed by athena) isn't 100% accurate to GREEK mythology (look up ovid)

-there is no version of persephone's abduction in which persephone willingly stays with hades, that's a tumblr invention (look up homeric hymn to demeter)

-as much as i would like it, no, cerberus' name does not mean "spot" (probably a misunderstanding from this wikipedia article)

-zeus isn't the only god who does terrible things to women, your fav male god probably has done the same

-on that note, your fav greek hero has probably done some heinous shit as well

-gods are more complicated than simply being "god of [insert thing]", many titles overlap between gods and some may even change depending on where they were worshipped

-also, apollo and artemis being the gods of the sun and the moon isn't 100% accurate, their main aspects as deities originally were music and the hunt

-titans and gods aren't two wholly different concepts, titan is just the word used to decribe the generation of gods before the olympians

-hector isn't the villain some people make him out to be

-hephaestus WAS married to aphrodite. they divorced. yes, divorce was a thing in ancient greece. hephaestus' wife is aglaia

-ancient greek society didn't have the same concepts of sexuality that we have now, it's incorrect to describe virgin goddesses like artemis and athena as lesbians, BUT it's also not wholly accurate to describe them as aromantic/asexual, it's more complex than that

-you can never fully understand certain myths if you don't understand the societal context in which they were told

-myths have lots and lots of retellings, there isn't one singular "canon", but we can try to distinguish between older and newer versions and bewteen greek and roman versions

-most of what you know about sparta is probably incorrect

-reading/waching retellings is not a substitute to reading the original myths, read the iliad! read the odyssey! i know they may seem intimidating, but they're much more entertaining than you may think

greek mythology is so complex and interesting, don't go into it with preconcieved notions! try to be open to learn!

[yoyomomiko]

Hi Miko, I've been reading your one piece posts and absolutely love how you write the characters! I loved your oblivious reader headcanons, but I wanted to request kind of the opposite - how would Luffy, Sanji and Zoro react to a reader that makes the first move and kisses them first? Thank you 🥰💕

pairings: monster trio x female reader

cw: not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

— (a/n): hiiii!! i'm very sorry for not posting, I've got a lot of requests and i hope I'll get to write them all ^⁠_⁠^ also, I SWEAR I don't have a favourite (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) -> m.list

— LUFFY

Luffy is so straight forward that a lot of flirting just goes right over his head. You could be batting your eyelashes, throwing hints, or playfully touching his arm, and he'd just grin at you, not having a second thought.

He's naturally touchy with his crew, so when you start getting more physically affectionate, he just kinda rolls with it. Leaning on him? He'll lean right back. Holding his hand? He'll swing it playfully.

The realization hits... Late. You make a habit of teasing him, leaning in close when you talk, poking his face when he pouts, and even calling him cute. After a lot of punches from Nami and disappointed sighs from Usopp, he tilts his head and just goes "Are you flirting with me?"

Luffy starts leaning in close, just to see if you'll back away, and he literally COPIES your every move.

"Does this make your heart race too?" In the most innocent way possible.

You think he's immune to embarrassment, until you pull a bold move and trace his jaw with your fingers. "I bet you'd taste sweet." He actually pauses, eyes wide, and a faint pink tint covering the tip of his ears.

When you finally go in for the kiss, you catch him mid laugh. His eyes widen, and probably for the first time ever, he's speechless. Luffy, the king of energy, is frozen like a statue.

His hand almost instinctively catches your waist, holding you close. You pull back, watching his expression shift from shock, to realization, to a big, goofy grin.

"Do it again!" He doesn't even hesitate before grabbing your face and closing the distance again, kissing you back. Zero hesitation.

After this, he just kisses you whenever he feels like it. Mid conversation? Smooch. Stealing food? Smooch. Looking at him funny? Smooch.

He literally tells the whole crew. No warning, no build up. Just a proud declaration while you stand there, face buried in your hands.

You belong to his crew, but now you're his in a way that makes him extra protective. He wraps his arms around you randomly, pulling you close, his stupid, big grin plastered on his face.

He starts challenging you to kiss attacks. If you surprise him, you win. If he catches you trying, he flips it on you.

Luffy doesn't get embarrassed easily, but he does get attached. Expect him to be glued to your side, smiling like you're the best treasure in the world.

There's no overthinking with Luffy, he just likes being with you, loves that your bold, and will 100% support more surprise kisses in the future.

———☆

You're sitting on the deck with Luffy, sharing a plate of snacks, when you decide you've had enough of his cluelessness. He's laughing about something, something dumb, something that shouldn't make your heart race.

So, without a second thought you lean in and close the distance, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. It's quick, but it's just enough to make Luffy's breath hitch and heartbeat increase.

Luffy blinks at you, his usual bright eyes wide in surprise. He's touching his lips like he's processing the sensation for the first time. Then, slowly, a huge grin spreads across his face.

"Whoa!" He lets out a shaky exhale, and then he grabs your hands, bouncing excitedly. "Do it again!"

"Maybe later." You laugh, shaking your head. He was getting so excited over a simple kiss, and you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat at the way his touch felt on your skin.

"Later?! But I wanna do it now!" He doesn't wait, just leans in and captures your lips in another quick, excited kiss. Now, you're the one blushing.

— ZORO

Flirting with Zoro is like flirting with a wall, at least at first. He doesn't react to subtle touches, teasing smirks or even playful winks. He just raises an eyebrow like, What are you doing?

"You're acting weird." You lean in, fingers trailing over his wrist as he tenses, although not pulling away. "I'm just being friendly." "That doesn't feel friendly..."

The moment he does realize you're flirting with him, he goes completely still. His grip on his swords tighten. He legit looks like he just got challenged to a duel.

"Tch, like I care." But then he starts noticing everything. The way you look at him, the way your hand when you pass him something, the way you bite your lip when you tease him.

Zoro acts all cool, but inside? His heart is beating faster, and he doesn't know why. Literally internal panic.

One day, you brush your fingers along his jaw. "I bet you'd look good, all flustered and blushing." He visibly stiffens, eyes darting away. "Shut up." Oh, so he can get flustered.

You finally go for it, grabbing his collar and closing the gap, pulling him in for a kiss. He doesn't react at first, he's too shocked to move a muscle. Then, his hands grip your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

He's not as unaffected as he pretends to be. He exhales slowly, his breathing controlled. But you can feel the slight shake in it, the way his hands tremble slightly and the way his muscles tense.

Zoro pretends it's no big deal, but later, he tilts your chin up and kisses you again. Slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize the feeling of your lips on his.

He's not big on PDA, but his protective streak triples. Arm around your waist? Always. Pulling you close when someone stares too long? Every time.

He doesn't say sweet things, but his actions scream it.

He still gets caught off guard when you tease him. A kiss on the cheek, and his ears turn red. Whispering something flirty, and his jaw tightens.

Zoro likes a challenge, and now that he's aware of you, he starts fighting back. He corners you and smirks if you get flustered.

He will DIE before admitting how much he likes it.

———☆

Zoro is training, sweat glistening on his skin, swords balanced in a way that makes him look damn near untouchable. You've been teasing him all day, dropping little hints, getting close... But he's been brushing you off, pretending it has no effect on him. Until now.

You walk up to him casually, hiding your smug smirk, standing just close enough for him to feel your presence. "Bet I could throw you off balance."

"Tch, you wish." He fights the urge to roll his eyes, the way his words came out was almost as if he was daring you to try.

Your smirk widens as you step closer to him. Before he could react, you grip his collar, tug him down, lips colliding into each other as you press a confident kiss on his lips.

He freezes. His whole body tenses like he's been struck by lightning. When you pull away, his breath is heavier, and there's a slight pink tint decorating his cheeks.

He glares at you, the grip on his swords tightening. "That was dirty..." He mutters, still trying to calm himself down.

You tilt your head to the side, still smirking. "Did it work?" You taunt him, trying to hold back your laugh, watching his flustered expression carefully.

Zoro exhales slowly, before grabbing your wrist, yanking you back in for another kiss. His lips crashed against yours, and you could feel his smirk pressing against your mouth. This one's deeper, hungrier. When he finally pulls back, a smirk forms on his lips.

"Yeah. It worked."

— SANJI

Sanji flirts with everyone, but when you do it back? He's done for. He's absolutely weak from the start. He nearly drops his cigarette every time you touch him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" And he instantly covers his mouth, trying to hide his nosebleed and the way his face turns 50 different shades of red. He short circuits instantly.

He flirts dramatically, and you flirt right back, leaning in close, tracing his jaw, calling him pet names. His whole face BURNS.

You catch him off guard with a soft touch to his cheek, and his whole face erupts in pink. "M-Mademoiselle!"

When you finally kiss him first, his soul leaves his body. His cigarette falls, his legs turn weak, and he grips onto you for dear life.

The moment your lips touch his, Sanji's entire body locks up. His heart is hammering, and his mind is screaming in ten different languages. His brain kinda goes offline for a few seconds, but he'll snap out of it eventually!!

He covers his face with both hands, trying to suppress the absolutely ridiculous grin forming. "Mon Dieu! You're too much for me..." And his legs wobble like he might pass out.

His hands remain on your waist, but he doesn't pull you in, not yet. He wants to play it cool, but his flushed face and trembling hands give it away.

For the next hour, he is completely useless in the kitchen. He keeps chopping ingredients wrong, spacing out and giggling like an absolute fool. When someone asks what's wrong, his only reply is "I've been blessed by an angel today."

After the kiss, he becomes extra aware of your presence. A simple brush of your fingers sends a shiver down his spine. If you just lean against him, he has to take deep breaths.

The next time you tease him, he gets his revenge, tilting your chin up with his fingers and giving you the slowest, most knee weakening kiss of your life. "Two can play this game, mon amour."

Before, he was a hopeless romantic. Now? He's a hopelessly attached romantic. "Oh, you like me?" You tease, and you see the way his lips curl into a smirk. "Like? Darling, I adore you."

He was already treating you like royalty, but now it's way worse. Pulling out your chair, offering you the best cuts off food, whispering sweet nothings into your ear 24/7. It's endless.

You kiss him unexpectedly? He still gets heart eyes, but now he pulls you right back for another. "Don't start something you're not ready to finish, darling."

Completely, utterly, shamelessly yours. Sanji doesn't even try to hide it, he's absolutely whipped. He lets everyone know, the whole crew has to deal with it.

———☆

Sanji is flirting with you as usual, leaning close and murmuring sweet things. "Ah, ma chérie, if you keep looking at me like that, I might fall apart."

You rolled your eyes, a mischievous smirk forming on your lips. You grabbed his tie, fingers twisting in the fabric, yanking him down with a sudden tug. He stumbled slightly, cut off guard, but there was no time to react. Your lips crashed against his, the space between you vanishing as you pressed your body flush against his, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. His breath hitched as his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you even closer.

Your lips parted just enough to tease, to taste. Your fingers slid up from his tie to tangle in his hair, nails grazing his scalp as you pulled him in, not letting go.

You finally parted from him, just barely, lips still hovering close and over each other. He's completely frozen. Mouth slightly open, cigarette hanging dangerously close to falling, his eyes wide in surprise, face completely red.

His whole body shakes, and he nearly collapses on the floor. "I can die happy!" He shouts out dramatically, both hands pressed firmly on his chest as he struggles to breathe.

Later, when he finally recovers, he pulls you aside, trapping you against the wall, kissing you so deep it leaves you breathless.

"Not so easy when I'm the one taking control, hm, mon amour?"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Heyy Babes Can you please write Dad!Lewis where he loves to spoil his baby and someone questions him about it in an interview or smth like that. Thank youu

Spoiling her rotten

The paddock was buzzing with energy as the drivers gathered around, enjoying a rare moment of relaxation before qualifying. The Ferrari garage was unusually lively today, and it wasn't because of strategy discussions or mechanics making last-minute adjustments. No, the source of the excitement was a tiny, giggling little girl currently waiting in the Ferrari hospitality with her grandparents.

Three-year-old Yn, Lewis’ daughter, was a little bundle of energy, and everyone who had met her agreed on one thing—she was the most spoiled child in the world. But no one really minded. How could they? The sight of Lewis, the seven-time world champion, carrying around his daughter like she was the most precious thing in existence was something no one could resist smiling at.

“He spoils her so much,” Max muttered, shaking his head fondly as they all stood near the Ferrari garage, chatting before the session.

“I think it’s adorable,” Carlos admitted, taking a sip from his water bottle. “She’s the cutest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean the most spoiled?” Lando chimed in. “Have you seen the way he looks at her? If she asked for the moon, I think he’d find a way to get it for her.”

Lewis, who had just approached the group, rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the proud smile on his face. “Of course, I spoil my princess. She deserves it.”

The teasing only increased at his statement, with George dramatically placing a hand on his heart. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Charles, who had been quietly listening, chuckled. “I think it’s nice. She’s only three. It’s good that she has a dad who loves her that much.”

Lewis shot Charles a grateful look before turning his attention back to the rest of the group. “You guys just don’t get it. When you have a little one who looks at you like you’re their whole world, you just want to give them everything.”

Before anyone could respond, a small voice called out, cutting through the noise of the paddock. “Daddy!”

The drivers all turned to see Yn running full speed toward them, her tiny legs moving as fast as they could. Her little Ferrari team shirt looked oversized on her small frame, and her curly hair bounced with each step. But what stood out the most was the stuffed pink bunny she was clutching tightly in her arms.

Lewis crouched down just in time to catch her as she jumped into his arms. He lifted her effortlessly, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “There’s my princess. Did you have fun with Grandma and Grandpa?”

Yn nodded eagerly before holding out the bunny for everyone to see. “Look! Daddy got me a bunny!”

The drivers all leaned in to admire the toy, but it was Charles who gave the biggest reaction. He gasped dramatically, eyes wide as he gently touched the bunny’s floppy ear. “Wow! That is the cutest bunny I’ve ever seen.”

Yn beamed, clearly pleased with his reaction. “It’s soft!” She pressed the bunny to her cheek before holding it out to Charles. “Feel it!”

Charles obediently ran a hand over the stuffed animal. “Oh, it’s very soft. What’s its name?”

Yn scrunched her nose in thought before shrugging. “Bunny.”

The drivers burst into laughter at her simple but effective choice of name. “A very good name,” Charles approved, nodding seriously.

Lewis kissed the top of her head. “See? I told you Bunny was a great choice.”

Yn giggled before resting her head on Lewis’ shoulder, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Lando, ever the instigator, smirked. “Okay, but let’s be honest, honey—how many stuffed animals do you already have at home?”

Yn lifted her head, thinking hard before holding up four fingers. “This many.”

Lewis sighed. “She has way more than that.”

George grinned. “And yet, you keep buying more.”

Lewis huffed. “Like I said, she deserves it.” He bounced Yn slightly in his arms, making her giggle again. “I’ll spoil her as much as I want.”

Charles shook his head with a small smile, watching the interaction fondly. “I think it’s sweet.”

Yn turned her bright eyes on Charles again. “Do you have a bunny?”

Charles chuckled. “No, but I think I need one now.”

Yn gasped. “You can get one! Daddy will buy you one!”

The group exploded into laughter at her confidence, and Lewis playfully poked her side. “I spoil you, not the other drivers.”

Yn pouted before reaching for Charles’ hand. “I share Bunny with you.”

Charles placed one hand over his heart, the other one on hers. “I’m honored.”

Yn grinned, clearly pleased with herself before snuggling back into Lewis’ arms. The drivers continued to joke and tease, but there was an undeniable warmth in the group. No one doubted for a second that Lewis’ little princess was the most loved child in the paddock.

And if Lewis wanted to spoil her forever, no one would stop him.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey, loves. I hope you enjoy this story. My requests are always open and I'm more than happy to write your story.

-💙🦋

[seneon]

Hey hey🩷

Could you maybe write a headcannon with blue block boys when they lash out on reader bc they have a bad day and call them annoying or disrespect them? Reader (female) is not sure abt forgiving them. I love angst. Could you maybe pls do it for Isagi,Nagi,Bachira,Reo,Barou Yukimiya,Rin,Sae or actually for whoever you like want to write for. If its to much Im really sorry 🥺🩷. I really enjoy your writings and I hope you are alright.

WILL YOU LOVE ME WHEN I'M DEAD ──── bllk various.

notes. featuring yoichi, seishiro, yukimiya, and the itoshi brothers only. and angst. for everyone, i'll have the same scenario of them coming home angry after football practice, then we'll escalate from there onwards. not my best work since my blue lock knowledge has gone rusty butttt ya :v

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ISAGI YOICHI

he's so so stressed after football practice that he can't keep his cool. yoichi didn't mean to raise his voice at you, vulgarity spilling down his tongue like ancient curses. you're terrified in disbelief, and he doesn't notice it. not until you slowly nodded and pursed your lips in a tight line that makes him regain some senses of himself. you then walked away, and he follows you the second you moved your muscles. "my love wait, i'm so sorry," he calls out softly, voice almost breaking and you tell him to give you time, locking him out of your shared room so he could think upon his actions. yoichi will stay outside your door, even sleeping by the wall just waiting for you to come out from your room so he could apologise.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ NAGI SEISHIRO

silent treatment creeps into the air even hours after he tells you that you're annoying and pestering, always nagging him all around. he appears to not care by occupying his attention in his games. but truly on the inside, he's so bothered that you're not beside him doing your own thing as he played his game. he feels empty beside him, so used to having you by his side all the time. he could tell you were in no absolute mood to see him right now, and his inexperienced self has no idea how to apologise or make it up to you. maybe he'll try some other time when you come home from your late night drive to cool off from a brief argument with seishiro.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ YUKIMIYA KENYU

he's an expressive young man, thus when he comes into your room with your favourite snacks in a basket properly and you're ignoring him, his lips is all turned downwards into a guilty frown. kenyu knows he's in every wrong that he called you annoying for simply wanting to check up on him after practice. he didn't mean any of it, just an 'in the heat of moment' occurrence. kenyu yearns for you as he kneels by your bed and holds your hands just to get your attention. then he apologises. he knows he's hurt your heart and soul. he'll have to keep trying because he's going to earn it.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ITOSHI RIN

in an absolute crisis mixed upon the events that happened at practice along with a million of thoughts and possibilities swimming in his mind that you will leave him. when his strings break at how you forgot not to touch a jersey of his that he has hanging by his drawer, rin leaves you first— to his room. a heavy pessimistic, even if it looks like he's fine with simply cleaning his football shoes. you've shut him out, as he did to you when he came back home and refused to speak to you like he usually would. tonight will be long if neither wants to see each other eye to eye.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ITOSHI SAE

does not take no for an answer when he apologises. that is a bad trait of his— sae thinks everything will go his way. so when you flat out said you wouldn't forgive him this time for even disrespecting you in the first place, his anger heightens. when you want to walk away, he will simply pull you back, heartfelt apologies he muttered in hopes of you forgiving him. but you're so hurt by him that he could see it in your eyes. it held the fading reflection of the last chance. and maybe, just maybe... you've lost the spark with him. he died a little on the inside at that surfacing realisation.

© SENEON 2025 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[hy6erion]

Hellooo, I love your fics😭💘could you write something like Viktor is IN LOVE with reader, every time she enters the room he can't take his eyes off her and she doesn't realize the impact she has on him until one day he can't stand all the love he has and simply confesses it to her expecting to be rejected (obviously Reader feels the same way about him) a song that comes to my mind is "every breath you take" 🥺

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲- 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 (╥╯^╰╥) 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝-

Viktor watches her. He has no choice.

It is not deliberate—not at first. The first time he notices, truly notices her, it is nothing extraordinary. Just a moment. A simple, passing thing.

She is laughing at something Jayce has said, shaking her head, her eyes crinkling at the corners. The sound of it is light—effortless, like it was meant to exist in the world, and he thinks, Ah. That is lovely.

And then, he looks away.

But that is how it starts.

It happens again, and again, and again. A small thing at first—a glance, a thought, a passing indulgence. But it does not leave.

Instead, it lingers. Settles. Buries itself deep in his chest, in the marrow of his bones, making a home out of him.

Before he knows it, she is in his thoughts more often than not.

She is in the moments between experiments, when his mind drifts, and he has to physically shake himself from imagining the way the light catches in her hair. She is in the spaces between breaths, in the hush of the late hours, when his mind slows just enough for the longing to creep in.

She is in the way his hands still when she leans over his shoulder, the warmth of her body so close, her scent curling around him like something dangerous, something fatal.

He is careful—so careful—to never let it show.

He tucks it away, locks it behind closed doors, never daring to let it slip into his expression. She cannot know. She must not know.

Because it would ruin everything.

Because how could she?

She is kind. Brilliant. Good. And he—he is—

A man who wants too much. A man who should not want at all.

But want, he does.

She does not notice.

Not at all.

It is not that she does not care. She does. She enjoys Viktor’s company, always has. He is sharp, quick-witted, endlessly fascinating. He is clever, charming in his own way, and she has always admired the way his mind works.

But never—never—has she thought to look deeper.

Why would she?

To her, Viktor is Viktor.

A friend. A colleague. Someone to challenge her, to tease her, to rely on.

Someone steady.

It does not occur to her to question the way he watches her. The way his breath stills when she stands too close. The way his voice softens, ever so slightly, when he says her name.

It does not occur to her to wonder why, sometimes, when she speaks, Viktor looks as though he is bracing himself against the tide.

Because why would she?

Viktor has never given her any reason to think otherwise.

He does not touch her unless he must. He does not let his gaze linger for too long. He is always the first to turn away, to fold his hands behind his back, to swallow down the words that threaten to break free.

If there is ever something there—something deep, something aching—she does not see it.

And it is killing him.

It comes to a breaking point on an otherwise ordinary evening.

She is with him in the lab, working late. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But tonight, something is wrong.

Viktor is quiet.

Not in the usual way. Not in the way of someone focused, of someone lost in their own mind. No—this is different.

This is silence weighted with something else.

He is still. His hands are clasped in front of him, fingers twisting together, his jaw tight. His throat bobs with the effort of something unsaid.

She frowns, setting her notes aside. “Viktor?”

He flinches. Flinches.

Her frown deepens. “Are you alright?”

He exhales, a sharp, unsteady sound. A humorless chuckle escapes him, brittle and thin. “No,” he admits.

Her heart stirs with concern. “What is it?”

And then, something breaks.

“I cannot do this anymore.”

His voice is low, rough, edged with something raw.

She stills.

“…Do what?” she asks, careful.

Viktor’s hands tighten around each other. He looks at her then, and for the first time, really lets her see him.

He looks wrecked.

There is something desperate in his expression, something frayed at the edges, something coming apart.

Something aching.

“I—” His throat works around the words. He swallows, hard, like it physically hurts to say it.

“I cannot pretend that I do not love you.”

The air leaves her lungs.

The words crash into her, sharp and sudden, knocking the breath from her body.

She blinks, mouth parting, brain struggling to catch up.

“What?”

Viktor huffs a weak, self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head. “I know. I know.” His voice is trembling. “It is—unfair. I should not have said anything. But I cannot—” He stops himself, running a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “I cannot keep this in. Not anymore.”

He sounds wrecked.

He sounds like he expects her to run.

Like he expects her to be horrified. To step away, to shake her head, to leave.

She doesn’t. She can’t.

Because suddenly, everything makes sense.

The way he looked at her. The way he carried himself around her. The way he always turned away too quickly, always put distance between them, always seemed to be holding something back.

It was this.

It was always this.

Viktor lets out a slow, shaking breath. “I am not—expecting anything. I know how foolish this is. How selfish.” His voice is quieter now, barely above a whisper. “But I love you. I have loved you for so long, and it is—” He laughs, breathless. “It is unbearable.”

She is staring.

He swallows, looking away. “You do not have to say anything. I only needed—”

“I love you too.”

It is a whisper, barely a breath, but it stops him cold.

Viktor goes still.

Completely. Utterly. Still.

“…What?”

She exhales, stepping closer. “I love you too.”

He stares at her like she has just undone him.

Like she has spoken something impossible into existence.

“…No,” he breathes, almost broken. “You—you do not mean that.”

She reaches for him then. Takes his face in her hands, tilts his head toward her, forces him to see.

“I do.”

Viktor makes a sound—something sharp, something lost.

And then he breaks.

He grabs at her, arms curling around her like he is afraid she might disappear, like she is something real in a world that has never been kind to him.

And when she kisses him, he shatters.

Because finally, finally—

She is his.

And he is hers.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Happy Wife

Thirteen servants were dead; Two estates on fire.

I never even made it to the gates.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Clung to his hair and skin, even after bathing. Because no amount of scented oils, scrubbing, could erase his sin. The scent of iron and cooking flesh. Cruel scents of ancient houses ablaze. Innocent people being slaughtered. For... for the crime of trying to help me.

It was all my fault.

Last time, I had escaped alone. Or... more laughably, he had let me escape.

So he could hunt me through the forest like a brightly colored deer. Some pretty prey to stalk and torment. Letting me exhaust myself. Run and run until I could no longer, before casually strolling up to come collect me. As though letting me get it out of my system. A man, merely humoring his wife's tantrums and overly dramatic, willful ways.

I never should have accepted help. No matter have lonely I was. How desperate my despair. Because... because-!

"I'll get you new ones. Don't be upset, Love." The monster that was my husband, said idly. His voice a low rumble like thunder, his so called 'sweet' tone. "Servants that can't obey their lord, can't be trusted. Shouldn't be kept. They were scum. I'll get you better ones."

Ha ha... more like, servants that obeyed him. Feared him. Had no shred of mercy or honor, left in their bones. Gods... I... I had condemned thirteen good souls. All for trying to help me. Save me. Just for trying to get me out of this hell and away from this man.

I would never forgive this life's sperm donor, for handing me over. Because... because after a betray like that? After I had begged? Begged and screamed, rioted and tried to run? And STILL he handed me over? He was no kin of mine. I had no family.

Not in this life.

My family may not have been perfect. May have been flawed. But they would never have handed me over to a psychopath. Sold me to the highest bidder, like chattle. And... and honestly? I would take them at their worst, over these bastards at their best.

I never should have read that STUPID book. Yeah, maybe, it had nothing to do with anything. Maybe, all it would have done is left me ignorant on top of being stranded. But? I had to blame something. Or I'd go insane. So it was the fucking book's fault.

Recommend by an internet friend. Historical fiction. Lots of complex characters and some spicy yandere. How FUN. Court intrigues! Poisonings! Bastards and hidden births! Great to read... literal hell to live through. Everyone wanted everyone fucking dead, and all I wanted? Was to marry far, FAR into the countryside. Live a boring ass life.

But apparently I blinked funny. Or was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wore the wrong fucking dress (well, not dress, but you get the idea). Because next thing I knew? Yandere Sr., of Yandere and Yandere, is looking at me! And not in that "oh, what an interesting bug" sort of way! Look looking!

I didn't know shit about him! Yes, his son. But him? Nothing!

Well... aside from the fact he was a VERY convenient Widower. Like... the SECOND he got a kid out of his arranged wife. It was all very "everyone suspected but no one could prove shit" Sort of thing.

And? Said son? Becomes a major antagonist in the book. Until he "embarrasses" his Father by going too far. Implied gruesome end to follow. Plot moves on. Which? Is all well and good FOR THEM. But what about me?! I had nothing to go on! Aside from "Aaah ha ha ha! Run." Which? Didn't fucking help, in the end! Still... s-still ended up married.

Though, my new "son" ended up dead, in relatively short order. Apparently wasn't too pleased to have a step-mom. Tried to do something about it. Disappeared between one day and the next. And now no one is allowed to so much as talk about him. But hey! It's apparently fine! Because at some point? We're gonna make a better one!

"Your thoughts are far away, Love. Should I help you concentrate?" Husband muses, from the edge of the bed. I jerk back as I jolt violently to the present, focusing on the threat. He looks pleased. "Better~, this wife should focus only on her Lord. And yet... once again she's wandered. Tried to run. This lord wonders what he should do, hmm?"

Scrunched up in a ball on the bed, I hoped the answer was fucking "nothing". Or maybe, perhaps, "leave". Inching backwards, like the hunted animal I felt like, I wasn't fast enough to avoid the hand that shot out. Capturing my ankle in shackle strong grip.

It wasn't crushing. Left no bruises. Yet the touch felt scalding, as his hand imprisoned yet cradled my ankle. Dragged my leg free of my curled up little ball of self. I froze, as I felt his other hand gentle running the tips of his fingers up and down my shin. Up and down, up and down. As though just feeling my skin.

"Should he make sure his wife can not run?" This grip tightened, nearly bruising. His other gripping farther up my leg. As though casually preparing to snap bones. "Or perhaps, he should chain you away? Hmm? This Lords wife is a troublesome girl. Causing trouble as she does... ah~, what to do with her..."

Terrified, sat froze. Mind numb. Please. Gods. Please, please, please! D-Don't. I was shaking. Could feel tears starting to build. Watched, helplessly, as he examined me. Something pleased, satisfied even, creeped into his expression. And without breaking eye contact, he lifted my leg towards his face, to gently kiss the skin right above my ankle bone. It could have been tender... if it didn't feel like a threat.

"This wife is so very lucky, that this Lord loves her so. That he would never."

It was almost mocking, in how sweet the words curled. As though suggesting that because this one thing was too far, he was a good man. As though suggesting that he would do far worse to others, in my place. But don't worry. You won't be hurt. See how benevolent he is?

"But come, let us not discuss your punishments tonight, hmm?"

Like a predator, stalking his prey, he crawled up onto the bed. Closer and closer. There was no where to run. Was this it? W-was this the day he... he-? Looming, on his knees, above my curled up ball of fear, he effortlessly worked his arm in and around my waist. Dragging me closer. All but into his lap.

"You are tired. Upset. Have made such messes for this husband to clean." He murmured, face pressed close. Breathe ghosting against my neck, my ear. All I could smell was rich soaps and smoke. "We can deal with this tomorrow. For now, it's time for bed. So go ahead, rest sweetly in my arms, Love.

"It's where you belong."

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSWEET BUNNYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How would they be with a timid and shy darling?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ NOTE : Request by anon ♡ English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Bruce never saw himself as possessive. He saw himself as cautious, reasonable, and responsible. But when it came to you, it was different. You’re the softest thing in his life, a delicate presence that soothes the storm within him. Your shy nature makes you easy to shelter, easy to protect. You don’t argue when he keeps you close, don’t push when he subtly alters your life to fit his vision of safety.

You needed him. It was obvious.

How easy it is for you to let him take care of everything. How naturally you let him lead you through crowds, shielding you from eyes that linger too long. How your voice wavers when you say his name, like you’re unsure you’re allowed to. You are. You’re allowed to do anything with him. But no one else. And that’s the problem. Because he notices the way people don’t hesitate to approach you, knowing you won’t push them away. That man at the gala who leaned too close. The colleague who placed a hand on your shoulder. The waiter who smiled too much. He finds your timidity utterly enchanting. The way you hesitate before speaking, the way your gaze flits downward when he holds your chin, how you stammer under his scrutiny—it feeds something deep inside him. You need him, even if you don’t realize it yet. Bruce never gets frustrated with your shyness. If anything, he finds it ideal. You aren’t reckless. You aren’t difficult. You’re perfectly moldable. His perfect little doll. You don’t have to worry about the outside world anymore. Gotham is dangerous. Men look at you too long, the world is too harsh, and Bruce knows what’s best for you. He’s a provider by nature, and now you belong to him, his fragile little thing. You won’t even notice when your life shrinks—how he’s always there, subtly guiding you into dependency. He’s a master at making his control feel natural. It’s for your own good, sweetheart.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Dick is obsessive in the purest sense. He’s everywhere—hovering, smothering, watching. He doesn’t just want to own you; he wants to drown in you, breathe you. You’re so shy, so quiet—and it drives him crazy. Every time you flinch under his overwhelming affection, every time your voice dies in your throat because he’s just too much, he melts. "Aw, sweetheart, don’t be shy. It’s just me." But he loves it. He loves how you tremble when he hugs you too tight, how your voice wavers when you try to refuse him. It makes him feel powerful—knowing he’s the only one who gets to see these pieces of you. At first, he tries to ease you into his intensity. But the longer he’s around you, the more agitated he becomes. Why are you still flinching? Why do you shy away when he’s the safest place you could ever be? The frustration isn’t with you. It’s with the world. Did someone teach you to be afraid? Who hurt you? He wants to rip them apart. He wants to keep you forever. So, he keeps pushing. The cuddles become longer. The touches linger. The kisses are too frequent, too intimate, but he brushes off your hesitance. "Come on, angel, don’t be like that. I just wanna be close." And when you still shy away? When you still look uncertain even after everything? He just pulls you tighter, cooing into your ear. "You’ll get used to me, baby. You’ll see."

— JASON TODD ⋆

At first, your timid nature makes him incredibly soft with you. You’re so meek, so gentle—and that means you need someone to keep you safe, right? You need someone who won’t let the world chew you up. Jason adores your shyness. The way you shrink under his gaze, the way you hesitate before speaking—it makes him feel needed. But as time passes, his patience wears thin. Why won’t you trust him? Why do you still tense when he holds you? He’s here to protect you, damn it. He’d kill for you. The worst part? You’re so sweet that you don’t even fight back. Your soft apologies, your nervous glances—they’re infuriating. He doesn’t want your fear, he wants your adoration. But Jason is impatient. And when you keep shying away, keep hesitating—he starts getting rougher. Not in a way that hurts, never that. But his hands linger longer, his grip tightens, his voice drops into something more desperate. "Stop bein’ so scared of me, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you." He doesn’t realize how terrifying he can be. How his sheer size, his intensity, can make your heart race in a way that isn’t just flustered affection. But he doesn’t want you to be afraid. He just wants you to be his, to love him. So he softens again. He makes up for his outbursts. He coaxes you into his arms, murmuring apologies against your skin. "I just want you to feel safe, doll. You are safe. Just let me take care of you." He’ll never let go.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Damian sees your shyness as a flaw—a weakness in need of fixing. You’re too soft for this world, too easily pushed aside, and he simply cannot allow it. At first, he tolerates it. He even finds it charming. The way you lower your gaze, the way your voice barely rises above a whisper—it’s a novelty. He enjoys watching you struggle for words, enjoys the way you shrink in his presence. But soon, it frustrates him. "You must learn to speak when addressed, beloved. Do not make me repeat myself." He doesn’t understand why you hesitate, why you fear expressing yourself. And it makes him mad. Not at you, never at you—but at the world that made you this way. So, he takes control. He begins teaching you. He holds your chin between gloved fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. He corrects you when you stammer, urges you to speak up when your voice wavers. "Again. Say it again—this time, with confidence." But he adores how pliant you are. The way you listen, the way you try to please him—it soothes something primal inside him. He’s training you, molding you into something worthy of standing beside him. And yet… there’s a part of him that likes the way you tremble when he raises his voice. The way your breath catches when he leans in too close. The way your small hands clutch at his sleeves when he pulls you in. Perhaps… you don’t need fixing after all. Perhaps you just need him to be the voice you lack. "Very well, my love. If you refuse to speak, I will simply do it for you." And from then on, Damian owns every decision you make.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[esoanem]

(OP acknowledges the grammar here has some mistakes, and that we can/should pretend it's vulgar or medieval Latin instead. I thought I'd take a stab at a more classical translation though)

egō, tangente miēttam leviter latere pedis: miētta dēmovē sīs nē tē incurram

miētta, oculīs ingentī: CALCITRĀS tū miēttam? calcitrās corpus eius sīcut follem? ēheu! ēheu! carcer mātrī! carcer mātrī Mīlle Annōrum

Translation notes below the cut:

Generally disjunctive uses of "me" in English (and also French) would use the nominative in Latin (and the descendant of this is still used in those environments in Spanish or Italian). Hence I begin with egō rather than mē

The "touching" here isn't being used a present progressive in the English, but rather as an adverbial phrase, which in Latin would typically be formed with an ablative absolute and participle, effectively "at touching"

I've decided to make Miette a regular 1st declension feminine noun, as these are the usual source of French feminines ending in -e

For the "with the side of my foot" I've used an ablative of instrument. I've also not included the "my" as explicitly marking possession of body parts is generally only done for emphasis, or where there might be confusion as to who the body part might belong to. In this instance, I'm clearly not touching Miette with the side of her foot, so it's clear who it belongs to, and at this point the tweet has a casual unemphatic tone

As a command, dēmovē is in the imperative, but if I wanted to emphasis the politeness, a subjunctive dēmoveās could work. I've also opted to include sīs "please" (ultimately a contraction of a phrase meaning "if you please")

I've used nē "lest, so that ... not" here rather ut and nōn because it seems slightly more concise, and whilst incurrō can take in, a plain accusative seems to also work here

Miette's eyes being wide are another opportunity for an ablative absolute, and again I've not marked the possession explicitly. I have gone for the more emphatic ingens "extraordinarily large" rather than magnus "big" though, aiming to better mimic the "enormous" of the original

I've fronted the verb in Miette's initial exclamation, as this emphasises the verb, i.e. it emphasises that Miette is being kicked rather than loved/fed/amused. I've also included the pronoun explicitly for some emphasis of the betrayal

In the second complaint, I've dropped the pronoun again because I feel like including it would emphasise the "you" too much compared to the "kick". I also have stated the possession of the body explicitly, because obviously the fact it's Miette's body being kicked deserves emphasis

In "jail for mother" I've gone for a nominal sentence with a dative, as this can have a more immediate sense

In the "for One Thousand Years" I've used an accusative of time rather than a preposition and, instead of stating the "One" explicitly I've gone for the archaic way of using mīlle, with it as an indeclinable neuter noun governing a genitive plural, rather than the later form where it is an indeclinable adjective governing a noun declined as normal

An overly literal translation back into English would be something like:

I, touching Miette lightly with the side of the foot: Miette, move please lest I run into you.

Miette, eyes extraordinarily large: you KICK Miette? You kick her body just like a ball? Oh! Oh! Jail for mother! Jail for mother for a thousand of years!

mē, tangō leviter Miētte cum latus pedīs meī: Miētta, dēmovēre ut nōn incurrere in tē

Miētte, cum oculōs ēius magnōs: tū CALITRĀS Miētte? tū calitrās corpus ēius sīcut follis? ēheu! ēheu! carcer prō Mātre! carcer prō Mātre prō Singula Mīlla Annōs!!!!

[cloudyluun]

Raw & Reckless | boyfriend!harry

Summary: A steamy shower turns filthy fast when Harry gets his hands on you. He fucks you hard against the wall, but you’re too desperate to care about barriers—ripping the condom off mid-fuck, craving him raw. It’s reckless, it’s rough, and neither of you would change a thing. But once the pleasure fades, reality lingers… What does crossing that line really mean? And why does it feel so right?

Wordt Count: 2,1k

A/N: Ohhh, you guys are so nasty for this one, and I love myself for it 😌. The way Y/N was so desperate she just ripped the condom off mid-fuck??? INSANE behavior. Unhinged. I would like to personally thank me for this filth. And then the soft, maybe we don’t even care about protection anymore moment??? Crying, throwing up, sliding down the wall. I just get me.

Anyway, I hope this wrecked you as much as it wrecked me while writing it. Enjoy, my little heathens. And remember: Harry always gives you what you want. 😉

Warnings: 

Explicit Smut (18+)

Unprotected sex (Condom is removed mid-fuck)

Breeding kink / discussion of pregnancy

Shower sex & wall sex

Hair pulling, choking, overstimulation

Filthy dirty talk & desperation

Light aftercare & emotional conversations

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

“You keep that up, angel, and I’ll fuck you right here.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, though it has nothing to do with the water cascading over your bodies. You should probably play coy, tease him a little, but you don’t have it in you—not when he’s already so hard, not when his hands are gripping your hips like he’s holding himself back.

Instead, you tilt your head up, lips brushing his jaw as you whisper, “Then do it.”

A low groan rumbles from his chest, his fingers digging into your skin before he spins you around, pressing your back against his front. His hands glide up, up, up, until his fingers are threading into your wet hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. His other hand slides over your stomach, down between your legs, teasing.

“You want it that bad?” he taunts, pressing his cock against the curve of your ass, making you feel just how hard he is. “Couldn’t even get through a shower without thinking about me fucking you, huh?”

You whimper, pressing back against him, rubbing your slick body against his. His fingers slip lower, grazing your clit, and you jolt against him.

“Fuck, Harry,” you pant, nails digging into his wrist.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, lips skimming along the column of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. “Love when you beg for it.”

His fingers keep teasing, rubbing slow, lazy circles, never enough. You arch into his touch, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more of him. But he’s taking his time, enjoying how wrecked you already are.

“You look so pretty when you’re needy, angel,” he purrs, voice thick with amusement.

You nearly whine, pushing your hips against him, trying to get some kind of relief. His chuckle is dark, condescending.

“Patience, baby. Want you dripping for me before I fuck you against this wall.”

Your breath stutters, eyes fluttering shut. He always gets what he wants.

And tonight is no different.

Harry moves fast, flipping you so your chest is pressed against the cold tiles, the slick heat of his body flush against your back. The contrast makes you whimper, but he’s already reaching past you, grabbing a condom from the small ledge where your shampoo bottles sit.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to watch him in your peripheral vision as he tears the foil open with his teeth. He’s barely keeping it together, his cock thick and leaking against your ass, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he rolls the rubber down his length.

He groans, one hand pressing into the small of your back, the other gripping himself, dragging the swollen tip of his cock through your folds. He doesn’t push in yet—just teases, coating himself in your arousal, nudging your clit with each slow, taunting pass.

You keen, pushing back against him, desperate for more.

“So fucking needy,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, but there’s a rough edge to it—like he’s just as desperate as you are.

“Yes,” you gasp, fingers bracing against the wall. “Need you, please.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty cunt?”

“Harry, please—”

He thrusts in.

The air rips from your lungs as he fills you in one swift, brutal movement, stretching you wide around his cock. Your fingers flex against the tile, a strangled moan catching in your throat as the pressure settles, delicious and deep.

“Fuck,” he grits, voice wrecked. His hands squeeze at your hips, like he’s grounding himself, like he’s barely holding on. “So fucking tight, angel. Always so good for me.”

He pulls back—almost all the way out—before slamming back in, his hips meeting your ass with a sharp slap. You cry out, body jolting from the force of it.

Then he sets a pace. A brutal one.

His fingers dig into your waist, holding you in place as he fucks into you, each thrust rough, deep, making your body jolt with every push forward. The slick slide of his cock is overwhelming, the water streaming down your backs only adding to the sensation.

Your moans echo off the walls, mixing with the sharp slap of skin on skin and the steady rush of the shower.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your ribs, cupping your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds, tilting your chin up slightly, claiming control.

“Look at you,” he growls, voice thick with lust. “Fuckin’ dripping for me. That desperate to be fucked, huh?”

You nod, your words lost to the wrecked, breathless sounds leaving your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises, his mouth trailing over your shoulder, biting down just enough to make you jolt. “Taking me so deep. Bet you love it, don’t you?”

“Yes—yes, Harry,” you whimper, pressing back against him, trying to meet his thrusts.

He grins against your damp skin, his hand sliding down from your throat, fingers dipping between your legs. His touch is immediate—rubbing fast, relentless circles over your clit, making your whole body seize up from the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Gonna come for me?” he murmurs, voice dark, dangerous. “Gonna let me fuck you through it?”

Your legs shake, the build-up twisting inside you, spiraling too fast, too strong.

“Harry,” you gasp, barely able to hold yourself up.

“That’s it,” he encourages, voice thick with approval. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

You shatter.

The orgasm rips through you with no warning, knocking the breath from your lungs, making you tremble against the tile. Your walls pulse around him, and he groans, muttering curses under his breath, not slowing, not letting up.

He keeps fucking you through it, his thrusts brutal, overstimulating, prolonging the pleasure until you’re nearly collapsing against the shower wall, gasping for breath, legs barely holding you up.

But he’s still not done.

Not even close.

Your body is still trembling, oversensitive and spent, but Harry isn’t satisfied—not yet. His arms tighten around you as he spins you both away from the shower, stepping out onto the bathmat with the same urgency burning in his gaze.

The steam clings to your skin, to the mirrors, to the air between you, thick and heady. He moves fast, pressing you up against the fogged-up mirror, his chest heaving, his damp curls sticking to his forehead.

Your breath hitches as the cold glass presses against your back, a stark contrast to the burning heat between your bodies.

And then you feel it—the condom. A thin, frustrating barrier.

Your fingers slide down, trailing over the deep ridges of his stomach, down to where he’s still buried inside you. You don’t even hesitate.

Harry groans as you grip the base of his cock, rolling the latex up, tearing it off, letting it fall to the bathroom floor with a soft thud.

His breath stutters. His pupils blow wide.

“What’re you doing, baby?” His voice is wrecked, raw with lust, his fingers tightening around your thighs.

You pant against his lips, nails dragging down his spine. “Want you. Want you to fuck me properly.”

His jaw tenses, his cock twitching between your legs as the realization sinks in. “Yeah?” His voice drops lower, rougher. “You really want it raw that bad?”

You whimper, nodding, rolling your hips against him, desperate for the slick slide of his cock without anything in the way. “Need to feel you, H. Need all of you.”

That’s all it takes.

With a deep, wrecked groan, he thrusts forward, slamming into you bare, sinking in deep, the heat of him overwhelming.

You both gasp at the difference—at the way he stretches you wider, the way every ridge, every vein, every inch of him is unfiltered now, nothing dulling the feeling.

“Fuck,” he grits out, pressing his forehead against yours, his whole body shuddering. “So fucking greedy for me, aren’t you?”

You moan, nodding mindlessly, already wrecked.

His hands slip under your thighs, hiking your legs higher, spreading you open even more as he pounds into you, each thrust slamming you back against the glass. The mirror shakes behind you, your reflection nothing but a hazy blur of bodies moving together, sweat and steam making it impossible to see anything but movement.

“Wanted this all along, didn’t you?” he growls, biting at your jaw, his hips snapping forward with a filthy squelch. “Wanted me to fuck you properly, no barriers, no protection—just me and you.”

You whine, head falling back, overwhelmed. “Yes—yes, Harry—”

His fingers grip your jaw, forcing your eyes back to him. “Look at me,” he demands, voice thick and rough. “Wanna watch you fall apart for me again.”

And then his hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles, sending sparks shooting through you.

“Harry,” you sob, clenching around him, your whole body tensing.

His thrusts grow erratic, deeper, harder. “That’s it, baby. Fucking take it. Take every inch.”

You shatter.

The orgasm crashes through you, harder than before, your walls pulsing around his cock, drawing a strangled groan from his throat. His hips stutter, his grip tightening, and then he’s following you over the edge.

He buries himself as deep as he can go, moaning against your throat as he spills inside you, hot and thick, filling you up just like you wanted.

The only sound in the room is your heavy, uneven breathing, the occasional drip of water from your wet hair onto the tile. Your body trembles against his, weak and boneless, your arms wrapped around his neck as he holds you close.

Neither of you moves for a moment, just clinging to each other, still wrapped in the aftermath of everything that just happened.

His lips brush against your damp skin, soft and reverent, as if he’s still trying to process it all.

Then, with a deep, breathless chuckle, he tilts his head back to look at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his swollen lips. “Didn’t think you’d be that desperate to rip it off.”

You hum, lazily running your fingers through the damp curls sticking to his forehead. “Didn’t think you’d let me.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking over your cheek. “I’d give you anything you wanted.”

Your stomach flutters, a warmth spreading through your chest. The weight of his words settles between you, heavy in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion.

You both know what it means.

You swallow, nudging your nose against his, your lips brushing over his in a barely-there kiss. “That was the first time we… y’know. Without anything.”

His grip on you tightens, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah.” His voice is softer now, almost cautious. “Are you okay with that?”

You nod, your fingers tracing slow circles over his bare shoulders. “I wanted it.”

He exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “Me too.”

A pause, just long enough for both of you to get lost in the moment.

Then, because it’s Harry, his smirk returns, though there’s a tenderness behind it. “Still,” he murmurs, trailing his hands down your sides, his touch featherlight. “Might need to get you a morning-after pill.”

You bite your lip, tilting your head. “Or…”

His eyes darken, his grip tightening on your hips. “Or?”

Your heart is racing now, but you hold his gaze, your fingers slipping down to where he’s still inside you, still sensitive, still warm.

“Or,” you whisper, voice barely audible over the sound of your breathing, “maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

His entire body stills.

For the first time, Harry looks at you like he’s truly, completely stunned—like the weight of what you just said knocks the air from his lungs.

“Baby…” His voice is hoarse, almost like he doesn’t know what to say.

You don’t either.

But there’s something in the way he holds you, in the way he studies your face like he’s searching for any sign of hesitation, in the way his hands cradle your waist with a gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, suddenly shy, tucking your face into his neck. “Just… thinking about it.”

He exhales shakily, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll talk about it, yeah?”

You nod against him, feeling the press of his lips, the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet safety of being held like this.

And then—

“Think we got dirty again,” you whisper, nudging him back toward the shower.

Harry groans, but he’s already reaching for you.

“Gonna fucking ruin you, angel.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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[rafesbows]

ooh okay could u write rafe who always solves any fight with the reader with sex, and this time she's putting her foot down and insisting that they talk it out, but he seduces her and she caves eventually, like always

"rafe, we need to talk."

you stand your ground, arms crossed, trying not to let the way he’s looking at you mess with your resolve.

rafe leans against the counter, head tilting as he watches you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "we are talking."

you exhale sharply. "i mean really talk. not—" you motion between the two of you, "—whatever it is we always do instead."

"whatever it is we always do?" he echoes, stepping closer. his voice dips, smooth, teasing. "you mean me making you feel good?"

you roll your eyes, ignoring the way your body betrays you when he crowds your space. "i mean you avoiding conversations by distracting me."

his hands find your hips, tugging you forward until you're flush against him. "can you blame me?" he murmurs, lips grazing your jaw. "you're so much prettier when you're not mad at me."

"rafe—"

"shh, baby." he kisses the corner of your mouth, feather-light. "why waste time arguing when i could be making you feel so much better?"

you want to keep fighting. you really do. but then his hands are slipping under your shirt, fingers warm and familiar, and suddenly talking doesn't seem so important anymore.

"this isn't fair," you mumble as he lifts you onto the counter, spreading your thighs apart.

"never said i fight fair." his grin is smug as he kisses you, deep and slow, like he already knows he's won.

his hands grip your thighs, keeping them spread as he presses himself between them, his touch lazy but intentional. "see?" he murmurs against your lips, his fingers tracing soft circles over your bare skin. "this is way better than arguing."

"rafe, we—" your words cut off as his lips trail lower, his mouth grazing the pulse at your throat. he’s barely even started, and your body is already reacting, heat pooling in your stomach, breath hitching when he squeezes your waist.

"what was that, baby?" his voice is nothing but smug amusement, hands sliding under your shirt, thumbs brushing over your ribs. "you were saying something about talking?"

"you're impossible," you breathe, but there's no real conviction behind it.

"but you love it," he counters, lips ghosting over your collarbone. "love how i always know exactly what you need."

you hate how easy it is for him to break down your resolve, to make you forget why you were even mad in the first place. especially when his hands are slipping under your shorts, his fingers finding exactly where you need him most.

"rafe," you gasp, hips jerking into his touch.

he hums, lips twitching. "s’what i thought."

his fingers work you open with a lazy precision, like he’s got all the time in the world. his smirk is damn near cocky when he watches your lips part, a breathy moan slipping out as he circles your clit with slow, teasing strokes.

"not so chatty now, huh?" he taunts, dragging his mouth down the column of your throat.

your hands grip his arms, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you try to hold onto your last shred of resolve. "we—" you gasp when he slips a finger inside, curling it just right. "we were supposed to talk about this."

"mhm," he murmurs absentmindedly, adding another finger, his palm pressing against your sensitive bud as he pumps them in and out at a torturous pace. "we can talk after, baby. promise."

but you both know that’s a lie.

your head falls back against the couch, legs trembling as he works you closer to the edge. he watches you unravel, eyes dark, lips curling as he leans in, his voice a low whisper against your ear.

"feels so much better than fighting, doesn’t it?"

you nod, barely, but it’s enough for him to know he’s got you.

he pulls his fingers out, dragging them through your slick folds before bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum. "knew you’d see it my way," he grins, unzipping his jeans.

"c’mon, baby," he coaxes, tugging your shorts down in one smooth motion. "lemme remind you why you never stay mad at me for long."

@ rafesbows

[littlelamy]

can you please do some cute fluffy shhit.

-Rafe has crazy fetish on head massages, he loves when reader give him sum, but like hes crazy about it. He want it 24/7.

I love you my beauty.

anon, cus i like to be misterious.🦖

rafe cameron had a thing for head massages. not just a passing appreciation—no, he was obsessed. he was addicted. the moment he discovered how good it felt when your fingers carded through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, it was over for him. he needed it. constantly.

at first, it was subtle. he’d lay his head on your lap while you were watching tv, shifting until your fingers were buried in his thick, golden hair. a few scratches here, a gentle rub there, and he’d sigh like you’d just granted him salvation. it was cute, how relaxed he got, how easily he melted under your touch. but then, it escalated.

“baby, just a little bit,” he’d murmur, guiding your hands up to his head, even as you tried to focus on literally anything else. studying? not on rafe’s watch. he’d nudge his head under your palm like some spoiled house cat, forcing you to give in. “c’mon, you know you wanna.”

at night, he’d refuse to fall asleep unless you played with his hair, his head resting against your chest as you lazily traced patterns against his scalp. if your hands stilled for even a second, he’d let out a disgruntled hum, shifting until you picked up where you left off. and if you ever dared to tell him ‘not right now’? oh, he’d pout, big baby-blue eyes going all sad and desperate, like you just broke his heart.

��thought you loved me,” he’d whine dramatically, flopping onto you, his heavy body trapping you against the couch. “guess i was wrong.”

“rafe, you’re insane,” you’d groan, though your fingers were already working through his hair, because—god help you—you were just as addicted to the way he softened under your touch. his entire demeanor shifted from cocky to compliant with the smallest of gestures, and you couldn’t help but be charmed by how vulnerable he became.

maybe it was a power thing. maybe it was knowing that the same man who could be so cocky, so reckless, so wild for control, would go utterly pliant when you touched him like this. maybe it was knowing that when he was like this, all his defenses were down, and he was just your rafe. either way, you were screwed.

notes: more fluff coming soon and a new burlesque reader in the works!

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[ibrithir-was-here]

Reblogging this without all the bonkers bad faith misinterpretation replies--cuz yeah, this ☝️☝️☝️

I have been privileged to read so many amazing works, both fan and original over the past couple of years from some truly /astoundingly/ talented artists. Their work is exemplary in terms of quailty of handling themes, sincerity of character interaction and development, straight up just better use of grammer, and just... amount of actual care put into their works.

And I have to believe that even if their works don't become insanely popular ground breaking best sellers, that they still deeply matter. Because they still touch people. The soul that's put into them reaches out and truly touches people in a way that stays.

There's a million different tangents I could go off on from this. Its always better to try than not, anything is better then nothing, stick it to the Despair and Create anyway. But I think what I really just want to say is that somehow, somewhere, your work will be seen, and deeply loved, by someone. Someone's life will be changed by what you make, even if its only a handful or even one person.

The thing you make will be part of their inner world, their story, their tapestry of inspiration that leads to their own works of creation. Kindling in their own spark, biting back against the dark of despair and disappointment and atrophy.

And that's no small thing. No small thing at all

Some truths about the publishing industry because I certainly got blindsided when going in. Now I'm so broken by this industry I struggle to encourage aspiring writers lmao