#i saw no one draw it yet so lets go

[frenchublog]

kosovo miku

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[akkivee]

i wake up with them and these on my mind and i’m devastated tbh lmao

[oofuri2003]

Sorry my finger is there but. Looking at the rainbow 🥺

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, and suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad party animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[zosanbrainrot]

part 05!!

01 02 03 04 05 06

It's been a while since I last worked on this comic, I've been busy

☘️🦋☀️ experiencing summer ☀️🦋☘️

which was and still is a lot of fun!

ANYHOW, I feel like when I stop drawing for a while it usually does me good, like, I'm very happy with my art quality in these panels and I didn't change much since the first draft (I still overthink some of the decisions but not as much as with the last part lmao).

It's like when in games you have a separate bar for running/stamina and it can only fill back up fully once you go slow and just walk for a while, but if you insist on running all the time it's never really at full capacity. Can't think of a better analogy, but lmk if you feel the same!

One of the things I maybe would have done differently is to have Yonji take the spear out of Zoro's shoulder, maybe?? It was so good when I first saw people draw a parallel between Zoro and Yonji because of their hair color and that maybe Sanji subconsciously has thought about this too ever since he and Zoro met. Not a meaningful thing for their relationship but more of an offhand thought that would surface from time to time. Him carrying the memories of his childhood all the time with him.

But! The upside of me not picking Yonji is that both Ichiji and Niji have the goggles so without their eyes visible they feel kinda distant emotionally and that works both bcs of who they are and also bcs the comic is not about them, in that panel where Niji has Sanji in a headlock the emotional focus is solely on Sanji.

And also Yonji just turned out so good there that I didn't wanna go back and change him lmao

I admit, when I was coming up with the plot of this comic in a frenzy right after watching these eps I kinda forgot about Nami slapping Sanji lmao I only recently remembered :' ) Don't wanna dwell on it too much though.

This part feels maybe more distant overall - I don't have any closeup shots (except the spear!) and the last moment you see Sanji's face fully is when he looks at Zoro. Zoro who got hurt. Again. Because of him.

I can't remember what I'd been thinking while boarding these, it'd been mostly vibes based, but I think the function of this part ended up being about showing a sequence of events rather than focusing on the emotions. It's pushing the plot forward and I think if I added closeups to the Vinsmokes then it'd be derailing a bit, again, it's not about them.

On the other hand it also works for Sanji shutting his emotions off, once his brothers and Judge enter the scene he has no leeway, he can't let his true feelings show. He's already shown too much. And what did it lead to? Everyone getting even more hurt. He let himself slip up during his fight with Zoro and Judge quickly put him back in his place. As long as the Strawhats were on the island they weren't truly safe. So he turns on his heel and walks back to the carriage, not looking back, he can only hope that Zoro's gonna pull through. He always does, he's been through worse, right? Right? They've never fought like this before though... The burn marks will take long to heal... And Luffy, has he woken up yet? No, no, no, he can't look back. And Nami...

So that's that! I got part 06 half finished already, so that should be out soon <333

as a bonus thing - some of the refs I've used for this part

3D models posed in Magicposer!

[cordeliawhohung]

consider this short drabble a thank you gift for 1.5k followers!

mafia!141 masterlist

mafia!Simon x shy!fem!Reader: smut, oral (m receiving), brief p in v

"Can I suck your dick?"

Simon had just lined himself up at your entrance when those words left your mouth and he became as still as a statue when they registered in his mind. Positioned underneath him on the bed, you looked up at him with slightly wide eyes as if your request shocked even yourself. It was something you had thought about for quite some time; how Simon always seemed to give and yet rarely ask for anything in return, and you wanted to change that.

You just didn't think you'd blurt your thoughts out so suddenly like that.

Surprised, Simon leaned back to look at you while his hand still gripped his hardened cock. Shifting under his gaze, you propped yourself up on your elbows as you waited for his answer. You wished you hadn't said it so suddenly like you did, but the thought most likely would have never passed your lips if you had attempted to do it any other way.

"That what you want?" he asked.

Though he questioned you to ensure that was something you wanted of your own accord, you could see the dark glint of want in his eyes. Saw the way his tongue lightly wet his lips and how his hand squeezed the tip of his cock like he already imagined your mouth around him. Eagerly, you nodded as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, mind already racing about how you were supposed to do it properly.

"Yes... please."

After placing a short and heavy kiss on your lips, Simon slipped to the side, reversing your positions. He propped himself up on the plush pillows near the headboard while you sat between his legs where his thick and powerful thighs kept your corralled like an animal. With one hand still holding himself, Simon reached for your face with the other as he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Take your time, yeah?" he prompted. His dark eyes looked at you adoringly while his hips impatiently bucked under his own stimulation. "You can stop whenever you want."

Once again you nodded as you breathed out a simple confirmation before your hand replaced his. While you settled between his legs, you slowly stroked at him as you thumbed over the smooth jewelry of his piercings. Eventually your lips brushed against the warm tip of his cock, wetting your mouth with his precum.

As your mouth gently dropped open, you tried not to think too hard about everything. Simon always told you that type of stuff was supposed to come easy and natural, to not force it and just let your desires take control. So you did just that as you slowly lowered yourself onto him, mouth opening impossibly wide in order to accommodate the sheer girth of him.

He tasted salty, almost refreshingly so, and you couldn't help but swirl your tongue around his glands in an attempt to soak up more of that flavor. Simon's thighs tensed on either side of you, and his breathy sigh didn't go unnoticed by you. You wanted more, to draw out more of those pitchy moans, to make him feel just as good as he always made you, so you pressed forward to take more of him into your mouth. He brushed against your soft palate similar to how he always pressed against your cervix, and the unfamiliar feeling made you gag.

"Easy sweetheart," he warned as he gently pushed you back. "Go slower... yes, fuck just like that..."

Eventually you found your rhythm. Whatever you couldn't take in your mouth you used your hands to make up for as you bobbed your head along his length. Simon's breathing became strained like he had to hold himself back from fucking up into your mouth like a madman, but you noticed that every time your swirled your tongue around the piercings on his glands, it forced his hips to buck ever so slightly.

A tingling sensation settled over your lips the longer you worked at him and your jaw began to ache from the awkward position but you pushed forward. You felt his hand rest gently on the back of your head, carefully guiding you along him as he aided you in setting a pace that felt good but wasn't too much for you. His quieted moans eventually transformed into unrestrained grunts as you brought him closer to the edge. The warmth of your mouth and soft lips around him was enough to drive him to insanity, and just as his stomach tensed, just as he was about to spill into your mouth, he gently pulled you off of him.

Panting, you sat back on your haunches as you gave Simon a glazed yet confused look. A long stream of spit dribbled down your chin and you quickly wiped it away on the back of your hand as you tried to catch your breath in order to ask him what was wrong. His cock glistened with your saliva and it seemed to twitch in frustration at the sudden absence of pleasure.

"C'mere," he said, his voice dark and husky. His hands were already on your waist where he excitedly pulled you closer to him, forcing you to straddle his hips.

"But I wasn't done," you attempted to retort.

Simon chuckled at you as he once more lined his cock up against your heat, drawing a sharp gasp out of you. In an attempt to keep yourself steady, your hands came up to rest on his shoulders as he ever so slowly lowered you onto him, sliding into you with ease due to how well you slicked him up.

"You can suck me off properly another time, sweetheart," he said with a tight jaw. He hissed as your cunt began to swallow him, tight muscles pulling him into you like he never belonged anywhere else. "Did you really think you could make me feel that good and get nothin' in return?"

Your head fell forward and into his shoulder with a soft gasp as he bottomed out, filling you with ease and to the brim. As he began to gently move you up and down, his hips bucked up to meet you halfway where he kissed your cervix with each thrust.

"Fuck... no, no. I reward my girl for bein' good, yeah?"

[mrsbarnesblog]

I always get what I want

masterlist

requests are open

summary: when you're not in the mood to go out of the house, you find a way to change Rafe's mind

words count: 1.8k

warnings: smut, established relationship, unprotected p in v, one use of a word 'slut', spanking, hair pulling, slightly mean Rafe

a/n: for anyone wondering how the said dress looks like

“I’m not in the mood to go out today, Ray. Why can’t we just stay home, hm?” You yawned, stretching your body on the king-sized bed and then turning around to look at your boyfriend. 

“It’s just a dinner and everyone is going to be there. I already promised that we’re attending, baby.” He crossed his arms over his chest, immediately drawing your attention to his tanned biceps and the way his fitted shirt stretched around them. “C’mon, get up.”

“But you didn’t even ask me about—No-o-o!” You whined when Rafe’s hands wrapped around your legs, dragging you out of bed. As he playfully patted your ass and manhandled you into standing, you gave him a furious glare. “Fine, asshole. I will get dressed.” You pushed past your boyfriend, already knowing one trick that will send him over the edge and that will guarantee you a quiet and peaceful evening. 

“Mhm, find something cute, but don’t take too long, ‘kay?” You rolled your eyes, going into the wardrobe attached to your bedroom.

You had never dressed quicker, and when after a few minutes Rafe heard you going back into the room with your heels clicking on the wooden floor, he was ready to joke about it, until he looked up from his phone and saw what exactly you were wearing. 

It was probably the shortest black lace dress in existence, which barely even covered your ass cheeks and had a slid from both sides of your legs as if there were something more to show. Rafe’s eyes slowly went up, only a few seconds later noticing that besides the “dress” itself, you wore only thongs, which meant that your tits were basically on full display.  

You bought it just for fun, for a few dollars during one of your shopping sprees, hoping to surprise Rafe with it, but it turned out even better than you imagined. He was speechless, to say the least. 

“You are not fucking wearing it.” He jumped up from the bed, looking down at you with wide eyes. You tried to hold back a smile. Rafe was so predictable and you loved every second of it. 

“Why not? It’s cute and goes perfectly with my heels. Give me like fifteen minutes to do my makeup and we can go.” You turned around but Rafe quickly caught you by the wrist and pulled you back to face him.

"You know I like your short skirts and sexy dresses, but I will not let you go out looking like that. Your whole ass is out and I can literally see your tits.” Rafe looked you up and down again; his eyes were full of hunger mixed with his usual grumpiness whenever you didn’t listen to him. 

“Stop saying what I can and cannot wear, Rafey. I always get what I want. And I hate when you think that you can boss me around. I am wearing it, whether you like it or not. You asked me to go somewhere at the last minute, and this is the only outfit I have not worn yet, so don’t complain." Giving his cheek a soft pat, you headed to your vanity, but was again dragged back, but this time it was different.

Your back hit Rafe’s chest. One of his arms found its place on your stomach and the other one took a gentle yet firm hold of your throat. Your breath hitched when you felt a growing bulge pressing against your ass, and Rafe began pushing you toward the bed. 

“Always have to be so fucking stubborn.” He mumbled as he bent you over, shamelessly pushing your face into the soft blanket, making you stay in a not-so-comfortable position with your ass up and still in your heels. 

“My heels. Take it off.” You whined, not even trying to fight your boyfriend back. 

“If you decided to play on my nerves today, then you’ll be good just like that, babe.” Rafe suddenly slapped your ass, making you hiss and twitch forward. Because of your position, the hem of your dress slipped even higher, leaving nothing for the imagination. 

Rafe licked his lips, soothing the irritated skin of your ass and enjoying the beautiful view in front of him. With the dinner long forgotten, he was completely focused on you and painfully hard in his jeans. While his left hand still stayed on your lower back to keep you in place, he pushed your legs wider away from each other and took off a skimpy piece of fabric that you called underwear. 

You moaned as the chill air of the room touched your bare skin, subconsciously moving your hips back to feel Rafe’s touch. He chuckled as he quickly undid his pants and shoved them down his thighs, revealing his already hard cock. 

“Why can’t you just listen to me, hm? You are insane to even try to go out in that pathetic excuse of a dress." Rafe mumbled, more as if he were talking to himself, too focused on looking at the way his tip was sliding up and down your pussy, already glistering with your juices. “Don’t get me wrong, you definitely can wear it around the house; I won’t mind. But just for my eyes only.” 

As much as you tried to concentrate on Rafe’s words, it was hard to do so when he slowly sank into you, making you whine and grip the fabric under your hands. He rarely did it without giving you a proper preparation with his fingers or mouth, but it was his way of showing you that he wasn’t happy with your behaviour. Rafe gave your ass another slap, before reaching his hand to gently grab your hair and yank your head back. 

“Pay attention to what I'm saying, baby.” You were stretched to the limit, still sensitive to the size of him every time you two had sex. Rafe set a steady pace, fucking you like he did whenever he was pissed off—fast, deep and rough. “You’re mine to look at. So, you better save that little thing for when I get home from work, do you understand?"  

Your eyes rolled back in your head as whimpers slipped past your lips with every push of Rafe’s cock in your tight cunt. He gripped the hair in his hand a little tighter, still waiting for an answer from you and you had no choice but to try to nod and mumble something incoherent. 

When two fingers of Rafe’s free hand suddenly pressed on your clit and started moving in a circular motion, your hips jerked forward, squeezing him inside of you even harder. If Rafe knew one thing for sure, it was how your body worked and all the little tricks that made you see stars. He held you firmly in place, feeding his cock to your hungry pussy and not caring about you trying to get away from the overstimulation. 

“Don’t fuckin’ move or I’ll edge you till you cry. Don’t want to do that again, do you?” Rafe mumbled, effortlessly sliding his cock deeper into you, noticing the way your ass was jiggling with every deep thrust. He felt your wetness spreading on his fingers and sliding down your thighs, probably making a mess on his clothes too. 

“That’s too much— Rafe, Rafe, Ra-afe!” You cried out loud as he pushed your head backwards more to have a look at your face. That famous smirk appeared at the sight of your fucked out face with tears in your eyes and swollen lips. 

“If you want to dress like a slut, you’re gonna be treated like one.” He spat, then finally released your hair, instead pushing your head into the bed. 

It felt like Rafe’s cock was now even deeper, and the pace that he was using was too hard to handle. You whined his name, fisting the blanket and crying in ecstasy at his magical work with your pussy. 

“That’s right.” His praise came with a hard slap on your ass. “Same my name when you cum on my dick.” 

“Rafe! Oh god, Rafe! D-don’t stop!” He didn’t stop abusing your hole even when you reached your orgasm. Neither when your body literally started shaking from overstimulation and you were begging to let you go. 

It didn’t take him long to get to an end, suddenly pulling out of you and spilling his hot cum all over your ass and lower back. “Fuck, yeah! Lookin’ so pretty covered in me.” Rafe chuckled, gripping your ass cheeks and shamelessly looking as his release was sliding down to your flattering pussy. “Sorry, sweetheart. I guess I stained your dress and panties too.” He made a fake pout, moving away from you to admire his work from afar. 

“Asshole.” You grumbled, fully falling on your bed and hissing at the pain in your legs. Your eyes were closed, enjoying the tingles that still went through your body when you felt Rafe wiping a mess from your skin and then kneeling on the floor to take off your shoes. 

You looked at him when you felt bed moving under his weight. Rafe drew you closer with a smirk, resting your head on his naked chest. You smirked at him, and he raised an eyebrow at the strange sparkle in your eyes. 

“Whatcha smiling for, hm?” His hand sneaked down your back, reaching the irritated skin that he slapped multiple times, and gently rubbed to soothe the redness. 

“I always do and get what I want, Ray.” You giggled, tracing lines on his abs. 

“Well, not today, apparently.”

"Oh, baby, you are so naive to believe I was planning to attend the dinner in the first place." You bit your lip, holding back a smile at the confused look on your boyfriend’s face. “All I had to do was make you think with your dick and now we’re staying at home. Just like I wanted to.”

He shook his head in disbelief, with a smirk and tongue poking his cheek. “You’re such a brat.” A squeak escaped from you when your body suddenly changed positions and was pushed back on the bed as Rafe hovered over you. “Get ready for round two since you wanted to be so goddamn smart.” 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)? 

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

............

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

...............

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

[emmyrosee]

Don’t know if you’re taking request, but imagine modern college au where Toji has baby Megumi (the mother isn’t in their life) and reader, his girlfriend, have class together but has to bring Megumi along cause he has no babysitter or they cancelled, so while sitting on the back seat of the class, Megumi is playing with you hair for attention and so you pick him up and hold him and Megumi kicks his legs happy while he draws you all, as a big happy family UGH

IM GOINF TO DIEEEEEE THIS IS SO PRECIOUS AUGH

And secretly, you’re kind of glad when Megumi’s babysitter cancels, because the little boy is so sweet and so well behaved it’s like he’s not even there anyways, and yet you still adore spending time with him. So when Toji knocks on your door to pick you up, and there’s a tiny Megumi in his arms, he rolls his eyes as you squeal and take Megumi into your own arms, who instinctively wraps his around you.

“Yeah, hug him before me, how nice of ya,” he scoffs, but he smiles as you press a loving kiss to his lips.

“Not his fault I like him more than you,” you coo.

He snorts and grabs your book bag from the ground, carrying it as you make baby small talk with Megumi- what he colored the other day, the pretty kitty he saw on the walk to you, and the new highest number he learned to count to; which, he eagerly displays as you conclude your walk to class.

“You’re so smart, megumi!” You praise, nuzzling his nose with yours while Toji holds the door open for you both. You’re quick to make your way to the back, plopping down on the double table. “Baby, hold megumi for a sec?” You ask, and when Toji takes Megumi back into his arms, you take off your hoodie to lay it on the ground as a slight cushion. “There. Come get comfy Megumi!”

The small boy is let out of his father’s hold and makes his way to the hoodie, sitting down quietly before blinking his big eyes at you and Toji.

“I got your coloring books hold on,” Toji says, taking his own seat as he opens his bag. He pulls out a box of crayons, slightly worn from use, and a big coloring book, filled with dragons and knights for him to fill in. Megumi’s eyes light up as his father passes him the book, and he immediately goes to work.

The class starts like normal. No one says much about Megumi being there, an occasional smile or gesture for a high five from the small boy, but no one bats a negative eye. Megumi’s small but quiet, he’s a good kid who plays with his own toys and sits in place. No one really minds his company- especially not you.

Professor drones on for hours, talking about something you can’t pay attention to- you’re too busy playing with Megumi’s hair, carding the black locks and smiling down at him as he nuzzles into your touch. You’ll get the notes from toji later. You’ve got more important things to take care of.

It isn’t until megumi uncharacteristically stands up with a few crayons in his hand and reaches a hand up to stroke your head, smoothing down any hairs. You turn to him with a smile, patting your lap for him to crawl into, which he does eagerly. You flip your notebook to a random blank sheet- definitely making a note to get a rundown from Toji later- and let him color anything his heart desires. You bury your face into his tiny head of hair and gently rock both of you back and forth, only to smile when you feel Toji’s big, warm hand lay on your back, thumb smoothing up and down your spine. Megumi’s legs dangle and swing happily as he colors, occasionally humming in thought quietly.

The professor finally, after two hours, concluded his lesson, bidding you all farewell and dismissing the class. You stretch and take a peek over to Toji’s messy notes, and you chuckle and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Pay extra close attention so you could teach me, huh?”

He snorts and turns his head to kiss your lips, “you had the kid, I knew your ass wasn’t going to pay attention. Besides- I can always tutor you later,” he chuckles.

You swat his chest with a laugh before turning back to Megumi, “what did you draw, lovey? Can we see?”

You see Megumi ponder for a moment, eyes looking down in thought before he looks up at you and nods quietly. When you open your notebook again, you nearly cry from the drawing.

It’s the three of you- toji drawn as a big square, you, a triangle, and Megumi a small circle. The two of them have dark scribbles to represent their hair, but Megumi took the liberty of being extra careful coloring your hair, making it look nice and pretty. You’re all encapsulated in a big, pink, messy heart that almost fills up the entire page.

“Who’s that?” Toji asks, pointing at a small circle between you and Megumi.

“Mr. Moo,” he says simply, referring to his tiny stuffed cow he sleeps with at night. Toji hums in acknowledgment, but you’re too busy burying your face against Megumi’s, kissing his tiny cheeks and squishing him close. He wraps his arms around you, merely out of instinct.

“Can I have it, Megumi?” You ask, and when the small boy nods, toji scoffs in offense.

“Hey. You got the last one- this one’s mine!” He argues.

“Uhhh, actually, you get Megumi all the time, so I call dibs on all his drawings,” you say back. “It’s a fair trade.”

“I’ll show you a fair trade,” he grumbles, but he leans down to pick up your bag all the same. “Come on. I need a coffee.”

“C’n I have donut?” Megumi asks.

“Why not?” Toji shrugs. “You were good today.”

“He’s good every day,” you hum happily.

[criminalamnesia]

GOD I LOVE traitor and how strong you've made the reader. It's amazing! And I eagerly await any future parts, whether it's big proper story or drabbles. BUT, you come first and your life does so you do what you gotta and go be amazing! We can wait. Proud of you X

im so late to responding, but thank you! <3

here’s part six :) also not really proofread so I apologize for any errors! I’ll fix them later!

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor, cross-legged amongst broken glass, brittle flowers, and discarded clothes, when someone knocks on the door.

you don’t move, don’t say anything. the noise seems distant— too far off to be real.

besides, if someone is really knocking on your door, they know you’re in here.

and if they know you’re in here, it could be one of five people. your former squad mates, or the doctor.

the knock sounds again. it shakes you from your stupor, yet you still make no move to answer it. let them come in; let them see what they’ve made of you. of who you were. of who you could’ve been.

the person on the other side of the door is speaking now. you register the muffled baritone as it fights to be heard from the hall.

you clench your fists, then unclench them— stretching out your fingers as far as they go. clench them again. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it’s a tick— a calming habit. you don’t think it’s working at the present moment.

the doorknob turns. you still don’t move.

the door is being pushed in, light from the hallway aggressively slicing through the darkness you’d left yourself in. you fought the urge to curl in on yourself.

you’d been so consumed by your anger— are consumed by it— but coming into this room and seeing that damn note was earth-shaking. it was terrifying, and it was a tangible reminder of the team’s unapologetic tactics. simon’s unapologetic tactics.

the voice is speaking once more, clearer now that the door is out of the way— but you can’t make out the words over the ringing in your ears.

a hand gingerly lands on your shoulder, and that’s when you snap.

you whirl around, throwing yourself into the intruder like a cobra striking its prey. clearly caught off guard, the person lets loose a ‘oomph’ and falls backwards as you take out their legs.

everything is fuzzy. the ringing in your ears crescendos, and it brings pain with it. you’re striking your target with reckless abandon, still not registering who is flailing underneath you.

punches land and land and land. nails scrape and scratch and draw blood. all you see is red— all you hear is the sharpening of a knife or the whirring of a saw.

and then there are hands on you, yanking you away from your victim. the red slowly starts to recede, the ringing in your ears subsiding.

it’s only then do you release you’re screaming.

its only then do you see the swollen and bloodied face of your doctor, lying a foot away from you. she sputters a cough, blood leaving her lips and splattering onto the man leaning over her.

“you need to calm down,” a voice speaks into your ear.

“calm down, or they’ll sedate you,” it says, and you finally stop screaming. you take a breath.

clench your fists. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it takes you another minute to calm down enough to realize the person holding you is simon.

the doctor is being carried away now, and you notice it’s johnny and kyle carrying her. you notice john is standing to your left, eyes full of sympathy and guilt as he looks at you.

“get,” you huff, reaching down to slap at the arms circling your middle. “off me.”

simon releases you instantly. you don’t hesitate to put distance between the two of you. a few feet, at least. he just stands there, eyes watching with an expression you can’t place.

“what happened, love?” john’s voice is a soft rumble as he speaks. he moves a hand toward you, but decides against touching you— even if he only wanted to comfort you.

“I—” you start, glancing down at your hands. they’re bloody again.

“I thought it was—” you try again, but stop yourself.

you thought it was what? thought it was who?

you had heard man’s voice speaking to you. your mind had twisted things— had given you something you wanted to hear, deep down— because it gave you the chance to strike.

it gave you the opportunity to tear apart whichever man from the 141 had been there to check on you.

and you know you had wished it was simon.

john takes a cautious step forward at your silence. “let’s get you somewhere private, yeah? somewhere to cool down.”

the fire licking at your veins has subsided in favor of the chill of shame. of terror at what you’ve done— what you’ve done to the one person you had on your side. the person who was truly on your side.

you don’t fight this time. you give a nod, then solemnly follow him down the corridor. simon falls in behind you.

john takes you to his office, opening the door and ushering you inside. you move without protest, stepping into the dark room.

the two men enter behind you, john flicking on the light while simon pulls the door shut. you would’ve laughed at the scenario if you were in your right mind.

but you weren’t.

you weren’t okay. you knew that you weren’t, at least physically, but what you just did…

there was no way you were going to be transferred now. you doubted you would’ve even before you attacked the doctor.

you’re going to be discharged. you understand why.

but it hurts. this is your job, your life. years and years on the battlefield don’t prepare you for life off of it.

“love?”

john’s voice brings you back to the present. you realize you’ve been standing in the center of the room, unmoving and unblinking.

you feel simon’s hard gaze on your back. you want to cry.

how did things ever get this fucked up?

“im fine.” you say, not bothering to turn around. you didn’t trust yourself to keep it together if you faced them.

“you’re not,” john states, and you roll your eyes.

“im not talking about this with you,” you bite out, circling your arms around yourself. “either of you.”

“you should at least talk to someone, love— this isn’t healthy.”

“please, stop.” you tell him, but john was never good at taking orders. he gave them, not followed them.

“you hated the therapist, and you haven’t spoken to anyone else since… everything.” he continues.

“stop, john,” you try again.

“you need to let it out, love. we’re here—”

you spin around then, fists dropping to your sides. “for the love of god, john, shut the fuck up.”

that stuns him into silence, eyes slightly widened and mouth agape as he looks at you. simon doesn’t move from his position near the door.

“you are the last people i would ever fucking talk to! I don’t even want to be talking to you right now, but you won’t stop trying. trying to talk to me, trying to make it up, trying to wriggle your way back into my good graces.”

you pause, sucking in a breath. “johnny must’ve relayed the message, and that’s why you’ve back off a little— but one wrong fucking move and you’re swooping again! you aren’t my dad, you aren’t my lover, you aren’t my friend, and you’re sure as hell not my fucking captain anymore.”

“so please, john, leave me be. the four of you have done enough.”

the room is silent for a beat, then two. then three. and then simon takes a step forward, removes his balaclava, and looks you square in the face.

he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, so you take the chance to.

“don’t start with me, simon. just don’t.”

“the note,” he says. “you read it.”

you just look at him, a disbelieving scoff leaving your mouth as you give a nod. “yes, I read your fucking note. and I saw the stupid flowers, too, after seeing everything else you wrecked. tell me, how long did you wait after you tied me up to tear it all apart?”

he just watches you. you want to scream.

the note flashes back into your mind.

‘hope you can understand.’

“does it make you feel better, thinking what you did was right?” you ask him.

“I wouldn’t have done it differently.” simon tells you.

you clench your fists. unclench. stretch.

breathe in, breathe out.

“and if the roles were reversed,” you said, watching him. “if you were in my position, would you have expected me to do what you did?”

“yes.” he says, without hesitation.

“you’re unbelievable,” you huff. “is that how little I meant to you? all that time, wasted?”

“that’s not what I said.” he tells you, and you shake your head.

“no, but it’s what you meant.” anger is bubbling up again. you feel overwhelmed; shame and fury battling inside you. the ringing building up in your ears again, emerging from the background.

you can’t do this.

“what i meant is what i said.” he takes another step forward. “you’re just too damn stubborn to listen, always have been.”

“just go, simon.” you tell him. “both of you. go.”

“I wouldn’t change what I did,” he says again. “to protect my team, my family, I would do whatever it takes.”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to keep arguing with him. he was an unmovable object— there was no way to reason with him.

“im not sorry it happened.” he speaks. “i did what i thought i had to do. what i had to do to make sure my team was safe.”

“and you should understand that, considering this team is all you have, too.”

you don’t respond— and even if you were going to, a knock on the door breaks the tense silence in the room.

johnny pops his head in, his eyes full of concern. “doc’s alrigh’.” he says, his gaze catching yours. “jus’ some bumps and bruises. she’ll be jus’ fine.”

“and she uh— said she’s not pressin’ charges or anythin’. says she still expects to see ya in a few days for your check-up.”

that’s what breaks you.

a tear slips from your eye, falling onto your cheek. another follows, then another, and you’re sobbing as you fall to the floor of price’s office.

the three men are staring, but no one makes any move to comfort you.

probably wise, considering what you did to the last person who tried.

you faintly register the click of the door as it shuts again. you don’t look up— your head in your hands as you cry.

cry about what you’ve done, what you’ve lost. mourn your career and your family and your love for the man who doesn’t regret what he did.

unbeknownst to you, simon is the only one still left in the room. his steps are silent as he approaches you— leaving only a foot of space between your bodies now.

he watches you as he sinks to the ground across from you, his long legs folded over each other, the fingers of his left hand twitching as he finds himself wanting to reach for you.

he still cares for you. his feelings for you were what made him do what he did in the first place.

the love he felt for you, twisting into betrayal and hurt and agony. fueling his actions, his desire to hear you admit your wrongdoings.

passion made people dangerous. passion in love, passion in rage. it was a fine line, and simon had crossed it.

he understood what this meant for you. recalls the conversation he had with price earlier— how laswell was planning for your discharge instead of your transfer.

this was the end of your time with them, and in the military. the hands of the 141, damaging one of their own beyond repair.

he finds himself mourning alongside you, then. mourning what was and what could’ve been.

what should have been.

“im sorry for what we did to you,” he says, but it comes out as a whisper that you don’t hear.

“im sorry.”

thank you all again for your patience! I plan on tying this little series up soon :)

as a reminder, I no longer do taglists. if you want to be notified when I post, follow @troiastitans and turn on notifications. I only reblog my works there.

I hope you all enjoyed :)

[crimsonbubble]

no bc just imagine how sexually frustrated miguel would be after chasing you around like cat and mouse… the breeding has entered the chat

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, breeding kink, creampies, hair pulling, degradation, overstimulation, a bit of manhandling, improper use of webs *not proofread, just pure horny

[I want him so bad why can't he be real 😔😔😔]

MINORS DNI!!

he's getting tired of this, but your pretty eyes and soft lips draw in him each time he swore that he wouldn't fall for your games. as tired as he is, he always lets you get away with it.

letting you get away with it a little too easily. though now he's stopped his chasing, trying to keep himself occupied to stop himself from playing into your games. he can feel your eyes on him, burning into his back as he continues working through anomaly reports.

as you tried to sneak up on him, you felt something spread across your chest, wrapping around your arms. with a sharp tug, miguel pulled you into him. you collided with his chest, a hand holding his webs and a hand on your lower back. you struggled against the webs, only making him spread more around you.

miguel quickly tugged your mask off, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw the shock written on your face. "not so tough now, huh?" you struggled against the webs again, trying to pull yourself away from him. "don't try and run from me now, you earned this."

miguel let out a grunt, pushing you up against his desk. he pressed a heavy hand to your back, webbing your wrists together. with little to no care, his talons rip through the crotch of your spider suit. the cloth is torn to shreds on the platform. "you've been nothing but a pain in the ass,"

miguel takes in the sight of you bound in crimson webs and bent over his desk. "a real thorn in my side." you try to peer over your shoulder only for miguel to press your head down to his desk. "we're not done til I say we're done." he disengages his suit with a flash, grinding his throbbing cock through your folds.

"you're lucky I'm even letting you have my cock." he says this yet he's just as needy for you as you are for him. the back and forth, the pushing and pulling, the cat and mouse games; he loves them but sometimes all he really wants is to web you up and fuck you til your legs give out.

and that is exactly what he's going to do. miguel lets his own fantasies and desires lead him, letting himself act on his impulses. miguel bottomed out in one sharp thrust, your walls convulsing and tightening around him as he fucked you. each thrust was heavier than the last, hips hips knocking you up further onto his desk.

with the hand pushing your face into his desk, he's tangling his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back as he rocked his hips into yours. you can't get words out because of how rough his pace is. miguel set a hand on your hip, using it to pull your ass back on his dick.

every thrust in and pull back forced his cock deeper, stretching your walls to accommodate his size. you're practically seeing stars shoot across your vision, mouth hanging open with each moan and cry that leaves you breathier than the last. with how easily miguel is leading you to orgasm, you know that you're not getting out of this for a while.

"only the first and you're already this fuckin' messy, huh?" the condescending tone makes your pussy flutter, as miguel tracks a finger over your pulsing clit. he rubs circles against the throbbing bud as you tumble head first into another orgasm. "m-miggy-" the words are caught in your throat, being passed by lewd cries and heavy moans.

your slick is gushing around his cock, and the wet noises of skin on skin finally make it to your ringing ears. miguel pushes your head against his desk again, grunting as he speeds through his release. it's a flood of warmth as miguel keeps his pace, groaning as much cum spills out of you. "fuck, look at you. such a messy little thing."

you can't tell up from down as miguel guides you to another orgasm. you're trying to alleviate the heavy plows of his hips by raising to your toes, but it only motivates miguel to go even harder, as if he's trying to knock the sense out of you. your eyes are blurring with tears, the stinging of the overstimulation starting to bite.

in a feeble attempt at pushing miguel away, he pins your wrists against your back. he uses it as more leverage to pull you back on his cock, letting another heavy load paint your walls white. "it's okay, take it just like that." the moans he's letting out are deep and guttural, a noise you would've missed if you weren't being drowned in his mere presence.

you're struggling against the webs again, the tingle of the overstimulation reaching new heights. miguels superhuman nature granted him increased stamina and endurance, making it easy for him to ride out his second high while you're crashing through your third. "c'mon now, is that all you got?"

you outwardly whine at his words, pushing your hips back to meet him halfway. miguel leans down, his chest to your back as he kisses up your neck. his fangs pushed against your skin, lightly grazing it with a featherlike pressure. it's as if he's teasing the idea that he could sink his teeth in. he very much could but he wants you to feel everything that he's doing to you.

he's got you trapped, and he doesn't intend on letting you go any time soon.

[moonstruckme]

summary: when James moves into your apartment, you need a bit of an adjustment period

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

You go downstairs the way a meerkat pokes its head out of its burrow. Cautious, watchful. When you spot James standing over a sizzling pan in the kitchen, it’s a bit of effort not to sigh, but you go anyway, hunger temporarily taking priority over solitude. It’s just going to have to be another quick meal.

“Hey.” James looks up from a recipe he’s reading on his phone, grinning at you. 

You press your lips together in a smile of response. The girl who’d occupied James’ room before him wouldn’t have bothered to acknowledge you, and frankly, you’d liked her for that. You’d had a mutually ambivalent relationship; you’d both paid your rent, ignored the other’s food in the fridge, and gone about your days as if you each had the apartment to yourself. She had to move out because the maintenance crew tattled on her for having a pet, and though James only moved in a week ago, he’s invited you to hang out with his friends every time they’ve come over. Which is often. (He’s at least considerate enough to always ask first, and you always say yes. Partially because they don’t make huge messes and partially because you don’t know how to reply to a yes/no question any other way.) 

You go to the fridge, tearing the aluminum foil off a half-empty can of beans and shaking it into a bowl. You put it in the microwave. James reaches to turn down the stove, and, like a frightened animal, you flinch away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, only retreating to the opposite counter to give you more room. 

“How’s your day going?” he asks, leaning back on his forearms. 

“Not bad,” you say. Another thing about James is that in addition to his relentless geniality, he’s ferociously attractive. It takes all of your willpower not to let your eyes dip from his face to where his short sleeves conform to his biceps when he leans that way, but your face heats regardless. “Yours?” 

“Pretty good, actually.” He smiles easily. “It’s gorgeous out, have you felt the weather?” 

You shake your head. “I haven’t been out yet.” 

James nods like he knows this already, humming noncommittally. You think you spy a bit of judgment in his look, but you can’t be sure. “So,” he says, “I have something to ask you.” 

You tense. “Okay…” 

“I know you value your privacy, and I totally respect that, but I feel like as your roommate it’s my responsibility to at least ask.” 

You feel your eyes narrowing as you nod for him to continue. 

James schools his face into seriousness, a frown on his lips that looks like it doesn’t belong. “Do you not eat?” 

You laugh, relieved and bemused. “Of course I eat.”

The smile he gives you is strained, clearly for your benefit rather than his. “You sure about that? Because this morning I just saw you have one—one—piece of toast for breakfast, and then for lunch you had…what?” 

You shy, more because of his notice than anything else. The microwave beeps and you use it as an excuse to turn around. “Some cheese and crackers.” 

When you pivot with the steaming bowl, James is looking at you incredulously.

“They’re really filling!” 

“That’s a snack, love, not a meal. Both of those are snacks. Did you have anything else?” 

You hold up the bowl in your hand. “I’m about to have some beans.” 

His laugh is monosyllabic. Appalled. “You’re not serious.” 

You roll your eyes at him even as your face heats. “Listen, it’s not my most nutritious day, but I’ve been in a rush, and…” You were going to say more, but decide against it. “Anyway, there’s protein in the beans, so.” 

James isn’t having it. “And what?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Something.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, spill, or I’m going to call your mum and tell her about your big day of—“ He draws quotes in the air, full lips curving he does “—beans and crackers.” 

“And toast,” you joke. James’ smile is small and short-lived. Does he really have your mum’s phone number? He can’t possibly. 

You sigh. “Okay, it’s nothing to do with you, but I…I’m a bit weird about being in the kitchen at the same time.” James’ thick eyebrows meet in the middle, and your shoulders hunch instinctively but you force yourself to finish explaining. “I just want to grab whatever is quickest and go before I make things awkward, or something. But I know it’s stupid.” You shake your head. You could burn the apartment to cinders with the heat from your face. “I don’t own the kitchen. You have every right to be here, and I’ll get used to it eventually. It’s just that you’re new to me right now.” 

James' expression clears. “Oh, you’re shy.” 

You must look even more embarrassed at that, because he hurries to say, “That’s alright, it’s good to know how you feel about things. And now I don’t have to call your mum.” He grins, and it widens when you make a tiny effort to reciprocate. “I don’t mind stepping out of the kitchen so you can cook every now and then.”

“You really don’t have to.” 

“It’s no trouble.” He waves you off. “Honestly, it’s too small for both of us to comfortably use at the same time anyway. Careful by the way, that pan’s hot.” 

You glance behind you, and you’ve backed yourself nearly into the stove. You move away, squeaking out a thanks. 

James’ smile softens. “I do hope you're right about getting used to me eventually, though.” He gives you a kind look, and you have no idea how he can maintain eye contact with that much sincerity in his big brown eyes. You envy the skill. “I’d like to get to be friends, but we’ve got time for that.” 

You’ve no clue how to respond, some deer-in-the-headlights instinct taking ahold of you, but James doesn’t seem to be expecting one. He reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, taking back his place at the stove. You take that as your cue to go.

[solarlunarsstuff]

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩

☆ Headcannons With Mike Schmidt ☆

Synopsis: This is basically abt Mike Schmidt cuz yes- (sfw and nsfw).

Tw: Dacryphilia, thigh riding, fingering, fluff n smut, switch!Mike, switch!Reader, manhandiling, orgasm denial, squirting, dumbification, and cuddling.

A/n: Abby also catches the bus in this lil drabble, ots also short I'm sorry :(, anyway. Enjoy this breedable man's hdcs!!! ♡♡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

(SFW HDCS)

☆ First of all, you've both been friends for years, he had given you the keys to his house for the purpose of trusting you

☆ You got up early to check on him, but by that time Abby had already gotten to school by the bus

☆ You both would cuddle in the morning before he left for his agonizing night of work

☆ You would also cook for the poor man so he wouldn't be left on an empty stomach

☆ You've always remembered to give him goodbye kisses before he would start the car

☆ Once he got to work, he would always keep a picture of you in his wallet, either way, he loved how pretty you were

☆ Mike would slowly eat his lunch made from you.

☆ Every single type of affection you did to him would make him melt

☆ And once he got home he would shower you with kisses

☆ On the lips, hands, neck, anything would work for him as long as you were in his protective arms

☆ He even got a bit risky at the dinner table where Mike, Abby, and you.

☆ Mike would rest his hand on your thigh while you both would listen to Abby talk about her "friends" and drawings

☆ Abby started to stick on you, drawing you and Mike holding hands with some colorful background

☆ Mike has always loved you, ever since he saw you in preschool

☆ He may still be a bit nervous around you but still yet, he lived for your love

☆ He would often give you hugs from behind when your cooking with his bedhead, tank top, and sweats

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

(NSFW HDCS)

☆ Morning sex, all the way

☆ It's like you'll come to his house and he would act all needy and would beg for you to ride him

☆ This happens so much that you started to go dumb over his dick

☆ You would obviously agree and lose track of time and he ends up late for work

☆ Mike is so obsessed that near the end of his shift he would call you to check in but it would end up in phone sex

"Yeah, lemme' hear that fuckin' cunt-fuuuuckk"

☆ He would breathe out while his throbbing cock was laying in his calaused hands

"Go on. Finish f' me? Mhmm, that's it..."

☆ Mike would walk you through it and cooed at any noise that came out of your body

"Shiiiit- can't wait to break that fuckin' pussy when I get home.."

☆ Ohh boy, you knew he would absolutely fuck you up

☆ You also knew that when he gets home from shifts, he would get a bit madder each night

☆ You didn't mind, like at all.

☆ Mike was drilling his dick straight into your puffed up cunt, not letting up to let you breathe

☆ You've told him so many times that when he comes home mad you get a bit worried but he brushes it off

☆ Besides that, he loves when you take control too

☆ Having him not shutting up when he was being to loud

☆ Grabbing the opportunity to shove your panties in his mouth

☆ Mike is so far into bliss that he lolled his tongue out to let you spit in his mouth

☆ He calls you whore, you call him slut. Either or you both love degrading each other

☆ Even if he's not in the mood he'll let you hump his thigh so it's not as messy

☆ But it ends in him finger fucking you

"Aww, poor baby wants my fat cock in her? Well to fucking bad, deal with it you fucking whore.."

☆ Mike was the person that had founded your G-spot, making you squirt everytime but sometimes wouldn't let his poor baby finish :(

☆ He would always lick and suck it off of his fingers and helped you wash up

☆ He was the one that made you want more

☆ Mike Schmidt was the only man on earth that could make you come as hard on and around his cock

《☆♡☆》

[lolapiastri]

happy new year | l. norris

warnings: smut, whole lotta smut, everyone gets head, dirty talk, lando won't shut the fuck up, spitting lol, praise, don’t really know what’s going on half the time

authors note: found this in my drafts from december please enjoy x

31st december 2022, monaco - 11:54pm

“come on mate, get another drink down you,” max fewtrell handed his best friend a jagerbomb, his spare hand resting on landos shoulder, his drunken self unable to stand properly.

lando smiled slightly, before taking the drink and shotting it in one. it had been a few days since him and his girlfriend broke up, and he wasn’t anywhere near over her yet. he didn’t know if he ever would be, judging by how he felt right now. he wanted to be at home, bottle of some 40% spirit in hand and trying to forget.

max wouldn’t let that happen though, forcing him out tonight so he finally left the confinement of his apartment, hoping that the party scene would alleviate some of the stress on landos shoulder.

“come on, there’s so many fit girls here, take your pick,” he slurred, before being pulled away by his girlfriend for the traditional new years kiss.

lando hadn’t realised it was almost midnight, and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the reminder that last year he was doing this with his ex. he grabbed another drink from the bar and got it down him quickly, planning on sitting at the bar while everyone around him spend the next few minutes with their loved ones.

until he saw you.

his eyes were glued to you the moment he saw you, stuck on how the short red dress you were wearing clung to your curves, stuck on how your hair tumbled over your bare shoulders, stuck on how the sparkly eyeshadow glistened under the neon lights or the club and lit up your whole face.

you made eye contact was you turned towards the bar, and obviously he caught your fancy, with a black button up that pronounced his muscles more than usual, a chain around his neck, and his hair in defined dark curls that contrasted his tanned skin. he looked almost like an angel descended from the heavens, except an angel would never have such a sorrowed look upon their face.

he beckoned you over with a flick of his fingers, eyes never leaving your body, and you may have been upset if you weren’t as gone as you were. you settled yourself in between his legs, taking the half drank glass from his hand and finishing it off for him, leaving a faint red mark on the rim.

he was infatuated at first glance. his hands settled in the dip of your waist, almost engulfing your body with their size. his mouth slowly curved into a smirk as he watched you lean over him to place the now empty glass on the bar, allowing him a small look at your lace bra you were wearing under your dress.

he checked the time on the clock. 11:57.

“what’s your name, gorgeous?” he asked, thumbs drawing lazy circles against the fabric of your dress.

you told him your name, before then asking for his, and his eyes widened with the realisation that you didn’t know who he was, or you were too drunk to realise.

“lando,” he smiled softly, voice deep and husky.

11:58.

“you here with anyone?” he asked, eyes dropping down to your red-stained lips before meeting your eyes again, the actions so quick you could barely recognise it happening.

you shook your head. “well, my friend, but she’s here with her boyfriend so…”

“i’m in the same boat,” he chuckled softly, subconsciously pulling you closer and closer towards him, so your thighs were brushing against his, “my mate max is here but he’s ran off with his girlfriend now.”

“god i hate people in couples,” you laughed, receiving one in return from lando, “they act all in love with no regard for those of us who are single.”

11:59.

“tell me about it,” lando rolled his eyes, his hand slowly climbing up your body so they were now resting against your rib cage.

you looped your arms around him, hands settling in the nape of his neck, a finger wrapping around a loose curl in his hair. he stood up now, looking down on you, and leant down so your faces were mere centimetres apart.

“you know it’s almost midnight,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin.

you hummed in response, feeling your heart beat doubly as fast against your ribs, the air suddenly feeling so much warmer.

“and i don’t have anyone to kiss.” as the final word left his mouth his lips attached to your neck, soft under ear, leaving a sloppy kiss that made you want more, want so much more.

“i don’t have anyone either,” you almost whispered, scared you had the wrong impression, but of course you didn’t.

chants of people in the background took you out of your little bubble, as the familiar ‘ten, nine, eight,’ sounded through the club.

lando leant right in, so your lips were practically touching already. “can i kiss you?”

you nodded just as the clock struck midnight, and his lips crashed into yours, with a sense of lust that you hadn’t felt in far too long.

the kiss was wet, it was sloppy, but it was desperate and needy and it sent a shiver through your body down to your core. your hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling against his roots and causing him to groan into the kiss, allowing him to stick his tongue in and control the kiss.

your tongues moved in harmony as his hands ran down the lengths of your body, as if he was scared this would be the last time he could touch you, the last time he could feel you under his fingertips. they eventually settled against your ass, cupping it lightly as he pushed your hips against his, so you could feel his semi through his jeans.

you wanted to kiss him forever, wanted all of him all at once. you decided that if the world ended now, you would be happy to die here and now, in landos embrace, his lips pressed against yours.

he pulled away, but only for his lips to find your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses until he found that sweet spot, the spot that made your neck roll back, giving him more access to suck against your skin, undoubtably leaving deep purple marks wherever he went.

your hands detached themselves from his hair and instead you dragged them down his body, fingers spaced out as you passed his pecs, passed his abs (though you were very tempted to linger there), and finished at the waistband of his jeans, dipping an index finger inside to trace the elastic of his boxers.

you felt him groan against your skin, pulling away to give you a look as if to say ‘really? in public?’. deciding to play it innocent, you just beat your eyelashes at him, a confused look on your face, and slowly ventured lower and lower.

lando wasn’t having any of that, however, grabbing your wrists easily in one hand and dragging you over to the door, pulling his phone out to call a taxi. you tried to kiss him again, but he just tutted, with a dangerous glint in his eye that told you you were in for it when you got back to his.

the taxi arrived sooner rather than later, and lando made an effort to sit in the front, leaving you in the back alone. you were confused, wondering where the sudden coldness had come from, wondering if you had pushed it too far. but when he turned around midway through the journey, and mouthed ‘behave now, and i’ll be nice later’, you knew it was going to be a fun night.

you quickly sent your friend a text to let her know you were okay, not that she would read it for another few hours, before deliberating whether or not to behave. on the one hand, behaving means that you wouldn’t piss lando off and that he’ll ‘be nice’ later, whatever that meant. but one the other hand, you kind of wanted to push his buttons, see what you could get him to do. which is why you decided to call your friend and stir up some trouble.

“hey bitch!” you practically sang into the phone, the drunkenness being more apparent than ever. you could see lando in the rear view mirror, and watched as his face seemed confused, but not upset.

“hey!” she slurred back, as drunk as you were, “where the fuck are you?”

“i’m with this guy,” you smirked to yourself as you started your plan, “but i can’t lie, he just doesn’t seem all that you know. like he seems like he’s all talk and he won’t deliver.”

lando raised an eyebrow at that, but still didn’t say or do anything, thought you could tell he was definitely listening in now.

“then why are you going with him?” your friend asked, and you could faintly here the music of the club in the background.

you hummed into the phone, but loud enough for lando to hear as well. “don’t know, maybe i just feel bad for him. he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to fuck, you get what i’m saying?”

lando’s fist clenched at that comment, but he still kept his cool, at least from the outside.

“like, i don’t know, he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to make me cum.”

that particular comment must have hit a nerve because lando leant back and grabbed the phone from your hand. you pouted and lazily attempted to grab it back, but really you were glad you were able to rile him up.

he quickly spoke to your friend, telling her you were okay and where you were going, before hanging up and ignoring your pleas for your phone.

it was only a few more minutes before you were back at lando’s flat, and he still ignored you while he paid the driver and guided you up the stairs, other than a link through your arm to make sure you didn’t fall. you liked the fact that he was still a gentleman, even though it seemed like he was about to not be.

“lando-” you whined as you waited outside his apartment, watching him unlock the door, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“what did i tell you?” he asked, voice still and stern, not facing you at all.

you tried to grab his wrist to get him to face you but he resisted. “to behave.”

“and you didn’t behave, did you?” his voice was almost patronising, but it was deep and rough and so fucking sexy that you didn’t care. “so now, i have to show you that what you were saying to your friend isn’t true. unless you’re going to apologise and tell me you didn’t mean it?”

he was giving you a chance to back down, to take the easy route. but it was new year’s day and you were never going to see him again, so you decided to have some fun.

“i don’t know what to tell you, you just don’t seem like you could make a girl cum,” you played it like you didn’t care, when your heart was racing knowing that something good was coming next.

he finally opened the door to his apartment and picked you up, your legs naturally looping around his waist as he pulled you into a rough kiss. it wasn’t like the one earlier, where even though it was rough there was a sweetness behind it, but instead this was pure lust and need in a kiss. his tongue explored every part of your mouth, at a ferocity that you felt like you were on fire, and that no bucket of water could ever pull you out.

his hands settled under your ass, kneading the skin under the silk of your dress. your hands found his shoulders, broad and wide, and you needed them stabilise as your world was spinning around you.

he carried you through his apartment, with you getting a brief look before he threw you onto his bed, leaving you looking up at him with rosy cheeks and lust-hazed eyes.

in the light he looked majestic, with two dimmed lamps either side of you projecting warm orange hues onto his face. fuck, he was gorgeous, chiseled by the gods themselves, and as he undid the buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, your mouth almost started to water at how beautiful he looked.

you pulled yourself up, going to try and finish undoing the buttons to take his top off, but he stopped you, once again capturing your wrists but this time pinning them behind your back.

“you don’t get to touch if you misbehave, baby,” he said, fake-pity written all across his face.

his other hand pulled your dress off your shoulders, and he let go of your hands for just a moment to remove it from the rest of your body. your heels were next, as he undid them slowly and carefully, taking his time to admire you, watching as your patience was running out.

left in just your lacy red lingerie, you watched as he climbed back over you, obvious hard on that he ignored as his lips met yours in another kiss. it wasn’t quite like the other one, slightly softer, as if he was checking that you were okay with all this. and of course you were.

he pulled away. “i can’t make you cum, yeah?”

“that’s what i said, isn’t it?” you teased back, tilting your head while trying to catch your breath.

“well, i guess you won’t be coming tonight then,” he almost sighed, before diving into the crook of your neck and leaving harsh, aggressive kisses wherever he could, adding to the deep purple marks he caused earlier on.

he slowly made his way down your neck, before finally making it to the valley of your breasts, where he sucked harder than before, obviously trying to deepen the colour and add to your pleasure. his hands found your breasts, taking one in each and kneading them, a soft massage that felt better than it ever should have done. was it the alcohol? or was it him?

he pulled your right boob out of your bra, eyes widening as his index finger and thumb took your nipple in between them and started to roll it gently. you arched your back in reponse, a weak moan falling from your lips, which pushed your breast into his fingers more. his other hand pulled out your other breast, but instead of his fingers his lips attached to it, and your mouth parted subconsciously as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

god, he was good. and he knew he was good judging by the smirk on his face. you almost regretted not letting him pleasure you how he was planning to.

almost.

“fuck, lando,” you let out a breathy whine as he swapped over, both of your nipples having an overwhelming sense of pleasure, “look so pretty sucking my tits.”

you could tell he liked that, as a vibration shook through your body when he moaned against your skin. he pulled away, much to your dismay, but you stopped minding as he slowly made his way down your body, still leaving the open mouthed kisses as he reached your belly button.

“you know,” he almost panted, hands still fixed on your tits, “i was gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

one hand leaves your nipple, a cool trail down your stomach before it settles at your waistband, mimicking your actions from in the club. your hips buck against his hand, causing him to chuckle slightly, as you crave more and more and more of his touch’s

“i was gonna make you come on my tongue, it would have felt so fucking good,” his sultry voice was working wonders as his fingertips traced the patterns in the lace, “would have had you screaming my name as i sucked your clit, would have felt fucking euphoric.”

even his words made you feel something, made you feel like any moment now you were about to combust. one finger trailed down your panties, feather light over where you needed him the most, but with the lace barrier in the way.

“god, you’ve ruined these, huh?” he chuckled, feeling how your wetness had soaked through your underwear. “so fucking wet and all i’ve touched are your tits. so responsive for me.”

you wanted to talk back, wanted to have some bite to you, spur him on even more, but you couldn’t conjure up anything while he left soft kisses on your inner thighs.

“still want my mouth, baby?” his voice was sickly sweet, but the tone behind it was cruel and teasing, because obviously you still wanted his mouth.

you nodded as best as you could, but he shook his head a response, a ‘tut tut tut’ leaving his mouth.

“need words, darling,” he almost sang, “or else you’re not getting anything from me.”

you mustered up every last drop of energy you had and spoke up. “please, lando. i want you.”

“want what?”

it took every fibre in your body to not tell him to fuck off there and then. you wanted to, you really wanted to, but you also wanted him. and that want won.

“want your mouth on me, please, lando.”

and that was enough for him, as he pulled down your lace panties and finally revealed your pussy to him.

“fuck me, darling,” his finger trailed over your folds, feather light, as he took in the sight of it, “you’re glistening, look, you’re dripping out.”

you would have felt embarrassed, but the dutch courage must have taken over. “not used to seeing a girl so wet, huh?”

his tongue poked his cheek. “easy, pretty girl. let me make you feel good.”

he gently blew over you, making you squirm slightly, before he dived straight in and began sucking your clit. the pleasure was instant, your hips bucking into his face as he chuckled against you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. everything he had made you feel up to this point was microscopic compared to the pleasure you felt now.

it only grew when he slid two fingers into your pussy, curling them up at hitting that spot inside of you, looking over as your face contorted in pleasure, eyes closed, mouth hung open, he thought you looked like the prettiest girl in the world.

you were already close, no idea how as you hadn’t been going for that long. but the mix of his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit was bringing you to the edge.

“i- i’m close, lando,” you stuttered, speaking hard when so much pleasure was coarsing through your veins.

he tilted his head slightly. “you’re close did you say?”

you nodded, feeling your orgasm approaching faster and faster, you could already feel it happening now. to add to everything, his fingers somehow reached deeper inside of you, contorting in a way where everything was just so fucking good.

“i wait,” he let out a soft, fake laugh, “i forgot. i can’t make you cum.”

and with that he pulled away, leaving you recovering from a high you never even got. you had to take a minute, your body feeling worse than ever as the euphoria slowly went away, and the lack of human touch was getting to you.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he faked pity, reaching down to swipe his thumb across your cheekbone. “you weren’t expecting to finish, not according to what you said in the car.”

you slowly opened your eyes, seeing his gorgeous face looking down on you, and fighting the urge to throw a punch. you subconsciously leaned into his touch, craving it despite the atrocity he just performed, and watched as he undid his belt with his other hand.

“here’s the deal,” he pulled away, leaving you with a whine, before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it all off, allowing you to see his abs for the first time that night. “you’re gonna suck me off, and if you do a good job, then, and only then, do you get to cum. understand, darling?”

you nodded. secretly, you wanted to suck him off anyway, and with this deal you would get to come as well. he took a step back from the bed, tapping his foot against the floor as a gesture for you to come down. you couldn’t understand though, brain slightly fucked from the shortly lived pleasure, and instead looked at him confusedly.

“get on your knees for me, baby,” he cooed, and you did as he said, sinking onto his wooden floor and looking up at him, waiting for his next order. with the promise of an orgasm at the other end, at this point you would do anything to get to the prize.

he started to unzip his jeans, and as you went to help, he instantly took a step back. “hands behind your back, no touching remember?”

you poured, but did as he said, linking for fingers behind your back as you waited for him to get ready. he pulled his boxers down, and jesus christ were you not ready.

he looked big through his hard on in his jeans, but you were not ready for all that. you could tell you were shocking your shock through your face, and he let out a soft chuckle and grabbed your chin with his right hand.

“think you can take it?” he asked, holding it with his other hand as he kept your eyes on it, watching as your mouth suddenly seemed to water.

you nodded. “mhm. just wanna make you feel good, baby. that’s all i want.”

he smiled down at you. “give me a kiss.”

you tried to climb up to kiss his lips, but his hand kept you pressed down, and you understood instantly. you leant forward to press your mouth against his dick, kissing the tip gently and watching as his head fell back. you left open mouthed kisses all down his length, finished at the base before climbing all the way back to the top. you started leaving kitten licks on the tip, watching the veins in his neck pulsate at your actions.

“god, you’re so fucking good,” he grunted, hand moving from your chin round to the back of your head, nestling in your hair as he started to take control. “you gonna take me all in?”

you hummed against his cock, opening your mouth as he guided you down, controlling your movements as he gently fucked your mouth. you tried your hardest not to move or choke, instead trying to focus on his pleasure.

you couldn’t help your eyes watering though, and when he looked down he obviously felt bad, relaxing a little bit as he let you take more charge.

“look so pretty naked on your knees for me,” he cooed, taking in sharp breaths as your tongue swirled around his tip. “who knew that such a sweet looking girl could give head like this? yeah, keep going, fuck, you’re so fucking good.”

you just kept going, knowing that the more you pleasured him the more likely you were to get pleasure yourself. lando didn’t want to seem selfish, however, as his hand wrapped forward to stroke your cheek again.

“fuck, play with your nipples for me,” he ordered, slightly out of breath, but moaning as you started to play with yourself. he let out a groan as you moaned around his cock, head bobbing like this was your last day on earth. “such pretty tits, should be framed in a museum how good you look right now.”

you could tell he was close by how his breaths got shallower and shallower, and his thrusts into your throat got weaker. he pulled away though, leaving a string of saliva from your mouth to his cock, which you licked up instantly. you went back to kissing his cock, waiting as you squeezed your nipples even harder.

“you were so good, huh, baby?” he picked your naked body up, grabbing your hands and wrapping them round his neck, telling you that you could finally touch him again. “listened to everything i told you to do, such a good girl.”

his praise was music to your ears, and his actions matched the tone of his words. he lay you gently down on the bed, climbing over you as his lips met yours in the softest kiss of the night. it was an ‘are you okay?’ kiss, an ‘i hope i didn’t go too far’ kiss, a ‘you look beautiful’ kiss, and it was possibly your favourite of the night.

“gonna fuck that dripping pussy,” he mumbled into your lips before continuing the kiss, lining his cock up against your entrance, tapping it against your clit purely to watch you squirm with elation.

and as he thrusted into you it was like your world had stopped. fuck, he felt so good inside you, filling you up more than you could have imagined and left you choking on air as inch by inch he entered more and more.

lando felt much the same, obsessed with how you felt clenched around him, how tight you were as he continued in. he waited once his whole dick was in, holding back from setting a rhythm until he was positive you could take it.

“feel so good clenched around me,” he muttered out, leaning back so he could check you were alright, check that you were ready for this, “such a tight little pussy needs to be stretched out.”

you nodded at him, a signal to start moving, and he did as he was told, beginning to thrust in and out of you at such a pace that your mouth flew open in shock. his hands dug into your hips, undoubtably causing marks as he fucked you deep and hard.

the moans emitted from your mouth were ungodly, borderline pornographic, and led to you covering your mouth in embarrassment. lando was having none of that, however, stopping his movements to gaze into your eyes.

“don’t you dare not let me hear those pretty sounds,” he thrust at the end of the sentence, as if to solidify his point, and you allowed yourself to moan, “want all the neighbours to hear how good i’m fucking you.”

you were so close to the edge, once again seeing it in the distance, and you clenched around lando trying to let him know. he chuckled and leant into your shoulder, kissing over the deep marks he’d left earlier, just adding to the euphoria you were feeling.

“gonna cum,” you whined, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to your clit, needing that final push to make it over the edge.

he understood instantly, rubbing rough circles while sucking against your neck. the pleasure was washing over you in waves, and it wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm rush through your body, every part of you feeling lighter and in a state of happiness you couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

lando kept going, however, chasing his own orgasm, and you decided to help him get thrre, however harsh it was for you. your lips found his neck for the first time, leaving sloppy kisses along his collarbones that were followed by a row of dark purple and red.

“fuck me,” he grunted, thrusts getting sloppier as he got closer and closer to the edge. “gonna pull out, yeah?”

you nodded against his chest, nails tracing over his abs as you rocked your hips in tandem with him, so sensitive that you might even come again.

as he kept thrusting into you, you remembered how much he loved being praised earlier, and thought that might help get him over the edge.

“being so good, fucking me so well lando,” you sighed, whispering into his ear as you kissed up his neck.

you felt his thrusts stutter with your words, obviously having a positive impact as a blush rose to his cheeks. his hands gripped even harder around your hips, and you began to feel another orgasm coming.

“such a pretty boy, so so pretty, look so good and fuck me so good,” you kept going, your hands leaving him and instead finding your clit. “got the prettiest dick as well, feels so good all wrapped inside me.”

“fuck-” he choked out, before pulling out and finishing all over his chest.

he panted while you got yourself to finish, cumming over your fingers. you threw your head back against the pillow, watching your chest as it rose and fell, trying to catch your breath.

lando joined you, lying across the bed while pulling himself together. you decided you weren’t finished, however, crawling over on top of him and licking his cum off of his abs, making sure to get every last drop off. his hands tangled themselves as you finished, pulling you up to him so he could kiss you again, making out like teenagers as you just enjoyed each others company.

“so,” lando finally broke the silence as he pulled away from the kiss, “i did make you cum.”

you shrugged as you rolled back to the side of him. “was it more fun that i challenged you?”

“definitely. never known someone so responsive to some dirty talk,” he jested, earning a slap on his bicep.

“never known someone love to be praised so much,” you retaliated, shutting him up as he went to grab you a glass of water.

he returned quickly, along with some boxers for him and a baggy t-shirt for you. you noticed the t-shirt it had ‘mclaren’ across it, and you hummed for his attention as you threw it on.

“you like cars then?” you asked, not expecting him to laugh in reponse.

“yeah, you could say that.”

you tilted your head in confusion, but decided you were too tired to understand whatever was going on. “you don’t mind me staying the night?”

“not at all.”

“you gonna tell me why that was so funny in the morning?” you asked, knowing it would be your last question before you drifted off to sleep.

he hummed. “of course. happy new year.”

“happy new year.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Family man || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: first glimpse of Rafe and his first daughter Madeline!!!

Warnings: slight angst?

Word count: 1,358

A/n: will be writing more about readers birth soon dw!!

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The sound of approaching heels echoed down the hall, drawing closer until they stopped outside the door. Barry’s conversation with Rafe came to a standstill as the two men glanced at each other. Barry raised a curious eyebrow, while Rafe’s sharp gaze fixed on the door. His fingers tightened around the glass of scotch before he swiftly brought it to his lips, downing the amber liquid in one go.

As the glass returned to the table with a quiet clink, the door creaked open, revealing you holding Madeline in your arms. Leo, trailed just behind, his small hands tugging at your dress. “My, my, Mrs. Cameron. Looking good,” Barry remarked with a playful grin, his eyes lingering on you longer than Rafe appreciated.

A quiet tension filled the room, unnoticed by Barry but evident in the subtle narrowing of Rafe’s eyes. You offered a polite smile, always composed. “Thank you, Barry,” you replied evenly, stepping further into the room, feeling Rafe’s gaze on you, cold and sharp.

Rafe rolled his eyes, clearly unamused by Barry’s remark, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. “What are you doing here? I’m busy,” Rafe muttered, the frustration lacing his voice unmistakable as he lazily flicked the unlit cigarette in his hand. Your eyes instinctively followed the movement, a silent reminder of a habit you yourself had let go of since the children were born.

You took a breath, your tone firm yet careful, “Can you watch the kids for a couple of hours?” Rafe’s eyebrow arched in disbelief. His voice dripped with incredulity as he spoke, “Don’t we have nannies for this exact reason?” Before you could respond, Leo’s little fingers reached for the glass of scotch perched precariously at the edge of the table.

Without hesitation, you slid it out of his reach, ignoring the whine of protest that followed. Rafe’s lips twitched, amused by his son’s curiosity. He exchanged a brief, knowing glance with Barry before turning his attention back to you. “She’s sick,” you replied, your voice edged with impatience. “I have an appointment.” You reached for the cigarette between his fingers, plucking it from his hand and placing it in the ashtray.

Your fingers brushed briefly against his, but neither of you acknowledged the touch. Instead, you handed Madeline to him, watching as his rough exterior softened momentarily. He cradled your daughter, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she babbled contentedly in his arms. Rafe’s annoyance resurfaced, though it was quieter this time, buried beneath the calm façade he wore so well.

“And I have a meeting,” he sighed, bouncing Madeline gently on his knee. “Cancel your appointment. I doubt it’s that important.” “I can’t,” you shrugged, the weight of his dismissiveness settling heavily on your shoulders. You leaned down to lift Leo onto a chair, keeping your movements deliberate, even as you felt his blue eyes boring into you. This wasn’t the first time he’d brushed off something important to you, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

As you straightened up, Rafe’s gaze lingered, his irritation now mingled with something more complicated. His protectiveness over the children was undeniable, even as his reluctance to engage with the responsibilities of fatherhood crept into moments like this. You saw it in the way he held Madeline, in the way he looked at Leo, and you knew beneath his cold exterior was a man who loved his family in his own flawed way.

Rafe glanced at Leo, who was now sitting contentedly on the chair, playing with a toy you’d handed him, oblivious to the tension brewing in the room. The smile Rafe had worn moments ago slipped away, replaced with a hard look as he shifted his focus back to you. “And what’s this appointment that’s so important you can’t reschedule it?”

Rafe’s voice was cool, and though his tone lacked the bite you’d grown used to, it still carried the weight of condescension. You straightened, refusing to be diminished under his gaze. “It’s a doctor’s appointment. For me.” You paused, allowing the words to sink in. “I didn’t think I needed to run it by you.”

Rafe’s expression flickered—something shifted in his eyes, but only for a second before the mask slid back into place. He exhaled, frustrated but knowing he couldn’t argue with you on this, at least not outright. He wasn’t a fool; he understood the importance of your health, especially since having Madeline.

But Rafe wasn’t one to back down easily, especially when his pride was on the line. “I’ll make sure the nanny is back tomorrow,” he muttered, bouncing Madeline a little more vigorously now as she giggled at him. “But don’t make a habit of leaving them with me when I have work. You know what kind of pressure I’m under.”

You blinked, stunned by the blatant disregard. Even now, holding your daughter, the reality of his responsibilities as a father seemed secondary to him. Still, you swallowed your frustration. Raising a fight wouldn’t change anything; it never did. “Don’t worry,” you replied quietly, bending down to kiss Leo on the head. “It’s just for today.”

Rafe’s eyes remained on you, scrutinising, calculating as if searching for something in your face—whether it was submission or defiance, you weren’t sure. You had long learned how to mask your emotions, presenting a calm, poised exterior, even when you felt anything but. Barry, who had remained silent for a while, shifted in his seat, clearly sensing the thick tension between you both.

“Hey, it’s just a couple of hours, man. You’ll survive,” he joked, attempting to lighten the mood, but his words caused Rafe to glare at him. Rafe redirected his attention back to you who was at the bar cart, pouring two glasses of water for the kids. Rafe gave Madeline a small smile as she babbled happily in his arms, bouncing her lightly on his knee.

“You’re lucky I love these two,” he mumbled, though his tone carried more warmth now. The sight of his daughter always seemed to soften him, and for a brief moment, it almost felt like things were normal between the two of you. Almost. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Leo standing beside the chair now, looking up at Rafe with wide eyes. He tugged at his father’s sleeve, and Rafe glanced down, his cool exterior melting ever so slightly.

“Come here, buddy,” he said, hoisting Leo onto his lap beside Madeline. The two children giggled, and for a second, the tension in the room dissipated, replaced by the soft, innocent sounds of their laughter. Barry, who had been watching the exchange with an awkward silence, finally spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. “Look at you, Rafe. Mr. Family Man,” he teased, though even he seemed cautious, sensing the fragility of the moment.

Rafe rolled his eyes, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. You watched the scene unfold in front of you—Rafe, sitting there with both kids on his lap, the hard edge in his voice softening as he spoke to them. It was moments like this, fleeting as they were, that reminded you there was still something beneath the cold exterior. Something worth holding onto, even if it was buried deep.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” you finally said, tickling Madeline's tummy and kissing Leo's forehead before you move towards the door. Rafe didn’t look up, his focus now entirely on the kids, but you could feel his silent acknowledgment. It wasn’t exactly an affectionate goodbye, but it was enough. As you reached for the doorknob, you heard Rafe speak again, his voice quieter this time.

“Don’t be late,” he said, though there was less command in his tone now—more a request than a demand. You nodded, glancing back at the three of them. Leo was giggling as Rafe whispered something in his ear, and Madeline was now nestled comfortably against her father’s chest. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel a flicker of warmth, a brief glimpse of what could have been if things were different between you and Rafe.