#it looks like his hands are behind his back but they're in his pockets

[sukunasweetheart]

Sukuna, a middle aged man jaded by the harsh realities of his life. He steps outside for a smoke nearby a convenience store, completely bored out of his mind.

A lady is handing out flyers nearby, although nobody is bothering to look her way, including sukuna himself.

You approach the man who's getting irritated by the lighter that refuses to work in his hand.

"Hello there, sir. Would you be interested in taking up classes for arts and craft?" You offer the cute flyer up.

Sukuna scoffs. Is she serious?

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? You look like you could use a bit more colour in your life."

He's too exhausted at this point to get angry at a random woman on the street.

"...You're not too far off, i suppose," sukuna mutters, still trying to get the spark to stay on his lighter. "Even so, I'm not interested in the likes of arts and craft. Do i look like a child to you?"

You withdraw your offer of your flyer, and inspect him for a moment.

"Arts and craft can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of age. But moving past that... you seem a bit down. If you'd like to confide in a stranger for a night, I'm happy to listen."

What a strange, persistent woman. Sukuna gives up on his lighter, and takes out the unlit cigarette in his mouth to think back for a moment. One thing does come to mind.

"I'm not feeling down. But i remembered something, now that i think about it..." he confesses, feeling weirdly compelled to tell you about it.

"Today is supposed to be my birthday."

Birthdays have never been special to him. Nobody celebrated his birth as a child, and in turn, he's never paid attention to the birthdays of others.

"Oh, happy birthday. Are you doing anything special for yourself today?"

"No. I've never cared for birthdays. And I'm getting too old for that anyway."

"Well, that won't do... Hold on for a second."

Puzzled, sukuna looks back at you but you've already gone inside the convenience store. Whatever you're up to now, couldn't possibly be more enticing than getting in a proper smoke right now. Sukuna begins to zone out.

He only snaps out of it when something mildly cold grazes past his cheek, leaving a ticklish and moist sensation on his skin as it disappears upon impact.

Bubbles. Bubbles are flying past him, and floating away into the sky.

For a moment, he gets mesmerised by the swirl of colours that are harboured in each one. Even just from the light of this dingy street, they fly up while holding a multitude of different colours inside them. Time seems to slow for a split second, and he doesn't understand why.

His gaze follows the trail to identify it's source. And unsurprisingly, it's you, standing behind him. You blow a couple more out, and then grin at him childishly. He finally looks at your face properly for the first time.

"Birthday bubbles. For the birthday man," you chuckle sheepishly, knowing that you probably look a bit silly right now. You put the bubble wand back into the small bottle of the soapy mixture, and screw it tightly.

"Here, you can have it. Next time you're feeling a bit antsy, why don't you try blowing some yourself? They're pretty, aren't they?"

You also hand him a different small item.

"And i also threw in a little something else, while i was at it."

He looks down, and sees that it's a new lighter. He slowly pulls his hand out of his pocket to take both of them from your hands.

"I hope you get to do something more special next year. Birthdays are supposed to be joyful, after all," you comment.

"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Farewell."

And then you leave him after a quick wave.

Sukuna stares wordlessly as you walk off, wondering what to name this ticklish feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.

The small bottle in his palm reminds him of a moment in his childhood. Kids in the park bragging about their bubble wands that were gifted to them. the laughs that resounded as they all ran off to catch the fragile spheres as they blew away in the wind. The tiny feelings of envy in his heart.

The item he tucks away into his pocket is the lighter. And when nobody is watching, he blows a couple more bubbles into the night sky.

-

Every time he passes by that convenience store, the thought of you comes to his mind. A flashback of your smile in the back of his mind. Every so often, he comes to this particular store. Despite having closer options, he comes to this specific one.

At times, sukuna regrets not taking one of the flyers that you were handing out. He wouldn't have had to mope around a convenience store in hopes of running into you again.

Today is a rainy day, and this calls for a hot piping cup of instant ramen. He doesn't usually enjoy convenience store food, but he wants a reason to stay around inside for a bit longer.

He needs to wait five minutes for the noodles to soften. In this time, he stares out the glass frame of the store, and watches the various rows of people walking past with their umbrellas opened.

There appears to be one anomaly in the crowd, however. Running without shelter from the rain, clutching her bag as if it contains something important in there. Sukuna realises that it's you.

Forgetting about his instant ramen, sukuna grabs his umbrella and dashes out the door.

You're mildly panicking about being stuck behind the red light at the zebra crossing without anything to save you from the rain, but the sensation of the droplets hitting your body come to a stop all too suddenly.

You look up, and there's a black umbrella sheltering you, big and strong looking. You spin around and recognise the stranger with pink hair and sharp eyes. Seemingly out of breath.

He signals to the light that has now turned green behind you, and ushers you forward to cross the road before you can say anything to him.

Now safely on the other side of the road, you begin to converse with him.

"It's you! Hello. Thank you for sheltering me. How have you been?"

"... So-so. Nothing's changed since the last time we met."

"I see. You look better than last time, though." You get the feeling that his eyes have a little more light in them.

Sukuna doesn't really get what you mean, but he moves on.

"What’s in your bag that's so important for you to be protecting it like that?" He asks, effectively changing the topic.

"Oh, this? I literally just bought some brand new origami paper... i can't risk getting them wet and unusable. The children would be disappointed."

"Origami, huh? How original."

"Hey! That's not all... there's a lot of options i offer them. They voted on origami this time."

"You got a lot of people signed up?"

"Not really... but I'm sure it'll start picking up soon. Slowly, one at a time."

You smile up at him hopefully.

"...is the offer still open?"

You cock your head to the side slightly, confused. Sukuna grits his teeth, feeling a little bashful about having to ask more specifically.

"You know. Lessons for grown adults."

"Oh! Of course, anytime! Would you like to come sign up today?"

"Do you offer one-on-one sessions too?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright. Let’s go."

Sukuna can't fathom the words that are coming out of his own mouth. But fuck it, what's the worst that could happen? You've somehow intriged him, and he can't think of a better way to approach you.

You chatter his ears off along the way, and he nods along while his shoulder gets wet from the way he leans his umbrella closer to your side.

[miss-jaye]

katsuki's parents are fashion designers, so of course, you'd ask him for his opinion on the perfect outfit for lunch with them.

you've been in the bedroom for 10 minutes. katsuki’s been in the kitchen just as long, already dressed, waiting for you. he sighed, patience wearing thin. "you having trouble in there, doll?" he called out, his voice carrying through the house.

"nope! i'm done actually, coming down!" you replied, the sound of your heels clicking on the floorboards following soon after.

your fiance glanced at the staircase and… wow.

for a moment, it was like the world faded away.

all he could see was you.

you, in that beautiful dress.

a white dress with a delicate rose pattern, paired with red heels. your hair was down, loosely curled, with a white cardigan draped over your arm.

katsuki couldn’t tear his eyes away. you looked effortlessly stunning, and it hit him all at once—how lucky he was.

"so, what do you think?" your voice brought him back to the present. you were closer now, smiling up at him, that irresistible smile that always made his heart do somersaults. "the best part of this dress? it has pockets!" you added, grinning.

he blinked, trying to shake off the daze. "what's with you women and pockets in dresses?" he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

you pouted, and katsuki barely resisted the urge to reach out and pinch your cheeks, frustrated by just how cute you were. "pockets in dresses are rare, y'know? and it’s a hassle to carry a bag if you’re just bringing a few things."

"then why the fuck don't you just wear pants?"

"they're uncomfortable."

the blond sighed, shaking his head. "whatever."

you rolled your eyes, not letting him off the hook. "you didn’t answer my question."

he raised an eyebrow, "hah?"

"what do you think of the dress?" you tilted your head, waiting.

he hummed, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe, admiring every detail. instead of answering, he tilted your chin up and pressed a slow, sweet kiss to your lips, pouring all his thoughts and feelings into that one gesture.

you melted into him, resting your hands gently on his chest. katsuki pulled away just enough to grab your hand. "let’s go."

you smiled softly behind him. "okay."

you didn’t need words to know how katsuki felt about the dress—or about you. his actions said it all.

[haveihitanerve]

Four Times the Batkids Forget They're Adopted, and The One Time Damian Forgets He Isn't

It had started off as a joke, as most things do, and Dick meant nothing behind it, really. It was amusing to him, actually, to tell his coworkers things about Batman and pass it off as his father. “Oh my dad? Yeah hes not big on talking. He loves showing me he cares though.” (this was, of course, in reference to Batman doing three back flips and a kick split when Nightwing had patrolled with him the other day, a classic Nightwing move) But it soon…went deeper. Dick stopped making jokes out of it, and actually began listing things about Bruce. About his Dad. It didn't help that his police friends were actually interested. “So did you and the old man do anything fun over the weekend?” Dick thought back to how he had wanted to surprise Bruce by stopping by for dinner and instead had ended up in the sewer eating granola bars on a stakeout for killer croc, who had escaped. Again. “Oh yeah we had a picnic.” Dick nodded, smiling at Randy. “Yeah. He’s, he’s kinda bad at remembering when to eat a meal on time and all that.” Dick laughed. “Its something I share too. Must be genetics.” He rolled his eyes. Randy laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I hear you. My old man smoked all the live long day. I try to keep it down, but that addiction gene is just strong eh?” Dick chuckled. “Yeah I guess.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he waved to Randy, turning to tug it out. It was one, simple message from Babs. “Ur adopted genius. What genes.” 

Jason didn't even know how they had gotten on the topic. But here they were. “Yes. I got my mothers hair, of course, but I get my temper from my father.” Artemis was saying. “I have parents.” Bizarro grunted. Roy laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. “Well you certainly didn't get Kal’s looks buddy. But you do have his killer hair.” Starfire laughed. “That is true. I, for one, share my parents hair and have my fathers powers. But truly the best gene I was given were my mothers eyes.” They all turned to Jason. “What about you?” Roy asked. Jason scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I used to have my dads eyes but um after the pit y'know,” He waved to his now green eyes. “And actually I have my dads dark black hair, and he’s graying early too, which might be why my white streak is so prominent.” They nodded in agreement. “But yeah, hes actually a little taller than me so maybe I’ll still grow a few inches but uh yeah. I don't… remember my mother enough to talk about her.” “Dang man. I wish we could meet your dad.” Roy murmured, laying a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Then we could really compare. I mean-” He laughed. “You sound like his carbon copy.” Jason frowned at his friend. “What do you mean? You’ve met Bruce?” They stared at him. “Jason,” Artemis began slowly. “Aren't you adopted?” 

Tim hunched over the information form, eyes straining to read the small print. His hand reached up to stifle a yawn and he settled for a sigh instead. It was late, but Tim needed to get the form done before he went to bed, otherwise everything would be far too stressful in the morning. He reached over and grabbed his coffee mug, a dark black cup that had a red R painted on it poorly. Bruce had made it for him a few years ago when he had first become Red Robin. He sipped it, staring down at the medical form. “Gods I hate having to do this.” He muttered, but reluctantly grabbed the thick medical binder Alfred had obligingly gotten for him when he had asked for medical records of the family. Tim did not under any circumstances, want to have to sit at the doctors office the next day and somehow lie his way through all the medical questions relating to his family history. He didn't have the time nor patience for it, and it was crucial he was given proper medical advice what with his missing spleen. “Any history of heart issues Bruce?” Tim muttered, flipping back past Martha and Thomas to Bruce’s great great great grandfather. “Nope, guess not.” Tim was halfway through the form when he realized the blood coursing through his veins wasn't Bruce’s. 

Steph rubbed a hand across her belly, staring at the monitor. “Your baby looks good Ms. Brown. They’re at the proper stage. Due in about two months. We’ll see you back here for your next check up.” “thank you doctor.” Steph murmured, sliding off the bed and dressing quickly before hurrying out to her car. The car door slammed shut behind her and she breathed, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel. Her phone buzzed. She lifted it and pressed it to her ear, hitting accept. “Hello?” “hey Steph.” Bruce’s voice vibrated through the phone. “How was your doctors appointment?” Steph gave a bitter laugh. “Everything looks good. The baby will come in about two months.” “Thats good. Thats real good.” Steph nodded, eyes closed. “You doing okay Stephanie?” Bruce asked, voice soft. “I don't know.” her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting tears. “I just- I’m so scared Bruce. So scared.” Bruce hummed comfortingly through the phone. “I know Steph. Its scary. And parenting, its hard.” Steph coughed out a watery chuckle. “Was that a hit?” She muttered, rubbing a hand over her face. Bruce chuckled. “No. Baby it wasn't. And just think, you’ll get to see all the firsts I didn't get with you. Their first steps. Their first wave. You might even get to hear them say mama before i kidnap- i mean adopt him or her.” Steph laughed again, and it sounded less watery. “Yeah. Well, when do kids start walking?” She asked in interest, sniffing and sitting up straight again. Bruce hummed. “Well i started walking almost immediately, but Im special.” Steph laughed. “Of course.” “alfred said i first started talking when I was around thirteen months old, and Talia said Damian was walking by ten, but she could have been lying.” Steph nodded. “Tell me more.” She whispered. Bruce obliged, happy to distract her. “Oh and whats probably going to be your favorite, babies, or at least I did, start laughing at around four months.” “laughing?” Steph gasped. “Oh Brucie!!! Thats too funny! Little chubby baby you, the future batman, laughing!” She cooed. She could almost feel his eye roll through the phone and stifled her laugh. “So yeah..” Bruce finished. “You should expect your kiddo to start walking around then. And laughing probably sooner. I would have if you'd be in my life at that time.” Steph was quiet. “Thank you B.” He hummed. “Anytime Steph. I’ll always be here to help you.” “Wait wait wait-” a new voice joined in the background of Bruce. “Are you guys serious right now?” Steph identified it as Jason. “What?” Bruce asked puzzled. “B, Stephs adopted. Her kid is as likely to walk at the same time you did as when she did!” 

“Damian?” “Go away Drake.” Damian called back, riffling through the papers. “Dami?” Tim poked his head into his younger brothers room. “Oh hey kiddo. Whatcha doing?” “I am busy Timothy.” Damian countered in annoyance, shoving the box back under his bed and moving to his desk. “What are you looking for?” Tim asked puzzled. Damian ignored him. “Dami.” “Go away Timothy.” Tim crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Come on Baby Bird. Tell me.” Damian shook his head, covering the blush on his cheeks by poking behind the desk. “Damian.” Tim’s hand was suddenly on his back. Damian jumped. Tim held up his hands in surrender. “Just tell me. I’m sure I can help you find it.” Damian sighed in acceptance, cheeks pink. “I have.. Lost my adoption papers.” He muttered, staring at the floor. But Tim didn't laugh or ridicule him. In fact, when he looked up, his brother seemed thoughtful. “Well i know me and dick and jason have them hung over our beds…” His gaze drifted to the very clearly empty space above Damians bed. “I know.” Damian jerked his head in a nod. “That is why I wished to find it.” Tim nodded in understanding. “Well, lets go look in the den. Thats where Alfred keeps all the legal stuff.” Damian trailed after his brother to the living room and watched as he opened the cabinet and pulled out three boxes. “You look through this one, I’ll search these two.” Tim ordered. Damian nodded, accepting the box. It was where Alfred found them, two hours later, broom in hand. “My dear sirs, what are you doing?” The butler asked in bafflement. “Looking for Damians adoption record.” Tim answered, nose still in some papers. Alfred looked at them. “Master Tim. Master Damian.” The two boys looked up. “Yes Alfred?” Tim asked. Alfred's face was fond and utterly confused. “Master Damian is not adopted. He is Master Bruce’s blood son.” 

@nonepizzawithleftglitter @zombiewithaflowercrown

you asked and you shall recieve!

[adelliet]

Logan x f!reader

MEMORABLE RIDE

Summary: You went to the club with your friends and when it was time to go, you ordered a limo, but the girls didn't join so you took the ride alone, but this wasn't your only ride of the evening.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, fingering, nicknames (good girl, princess,…), unprotected sex (p i v)

A/n: Hello pookies! This is quite a short one-shot unlike the previous ones, but still there may be grammatical errors, for which I apologize. Also sorry if some parts don't make sense, English is not my native language! Thanks, enjoy <3

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"So are you coming or not?" you yell at your friends, trying to shout over the loud music. They were all sitting in a booth with their one-night stands, all dazed and drunk. They didn't hear you, despite their enthusiasm to have a good fuck today. Unlike them, you had no luck in finding a fuck-buddy. It wasn't that you weren't interested or didn't want to, but no one at the party was your type.

Your friends are into boys of the same age, while you prefer more mature men, older men who knows what they want. "Hey!" you yelled at them once more, at this point your throat started hurting. One of your friends finally heard you and gave you a cursory look. "No, we're not going, can't you see we're busy?" Julia said in her typical bitch tone, that you were already used to.

"But I already ordered a ride home" you furrow your eyebrows as you show her your phone screen. "So? Go home, we'll take care of ourselves" Kaylie said this time, making you realize they all heard you but just ignore you. They were just mocking you.

"Whatever" you breathed out and shook your head, deciding to leave. You love those girls, you really do, but when alcohol, drugs, and sex get into them, they're changed. Usually they apologize the next day and everything is back to normal, but sometimes you wonder if the ridicule is worth it.

When you finally squeezed through the crowd of people and nearly went blind from the beams of colored lasers, you stepped outside and took a deep breath. The club was incredibly hot and the air was thick in there, it was practically impossible to breathe, so the moment you stepped out, it was like a godsend.

You stayed on a spot for a while, just enjoying the clean air and the glowing lamps around you, until you noticed a black limousine on the other side of the sidewalk. That was for you. You quickly checked your makeup in your pocket-mirror, to see if you didn't look like a total mess and headed towards the limo.

On your way there, an old guy with a long gray beard and a black suit get out of the car. Even from a distance you could tell, that he's been gone through a lot in his life. He had a cute glasses on, his eyes squeezed, trying to read something in his phone. "Hi!" you said with a sweet tone and small smile.

You caught his attention immediately, making him groan annoyingly as he looked at you, but the moment he saw you, he needed to double check you. He carelessly scan you from the bottom up, his glasses sliding off his nose gently while he looked through his eye lids.

Before he could say anything you overtook him. "313, my code" you flashed him with your phone screen. He hastily blinked, his eyes watering from the brightness of your phone. He rudely took your phone and checked with a closer look. You awkwardly stood next to him until he hummed and handed you back your phone.

"Where are the others?" his voice was deep and grainy, showing his age. Hearing him for the first time made goosebumps all over your body and increased your heartbeat. "They...uh they're not coming, it's just me" you look behind your shoulder and glance at the club, remembering your friends words, before turning back.

He roll his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Is that okay?" you asked him cautiously, automatically going to sit in the back of the limo, as he got into the driver's seat. "As long as you pay" you deduced, that hearing him talk is very rare thing and that was why it made it so special. Whenever he talks, his voice sends a sharp prick between your legs.

"Y-yeah I have the money..." you rummaged through your purse to check your wallet and you sigh with relief when you saw it there. The old man entered your location on the GPS and started the engine. The ride was quiet except for the songs on the radio, but you didn't mind, you watched things passing by from window. You could turn off your brain and relax.

"May I ask why you didn't take a taxi?" your rest didn't last long when you heard the wolf's voice again. It took you a while to recover and form a sentence in your head. "I guess I didn't think of that" you didn't want to tell the whole lore about your friends and how you naively thought you would drive all home together and enjoy the ride back, so you got a little carried away and spend a lot of money on a limo. All that so you are now sitting alone there and not didn't even enjoy the evening with some good fuck.

He was looking at you through the rear view mirror, sometimes you caught him and he swiftly looked back on the road. He could sense the dissapointment in your voice, but he didn't want to be intrusive, even though he was really interested in the story behind you.

"Aren't you cold?" another sharp hit into your core, when you heard his crisp voice. "Uhh no, it's fine, thanks" the thanks was almost inaudible as you looked down at your knees shyly. You honestly weren't surprised he asked, you were wearing a short top with a short black skirt. You hoped you don't look like some kind of slut, you wanted to impress him in a good way and if he told his friends about you, you didn't want him to call you a whore.

He nodded, quickly checking you in the mirror again before firmly focusing his attention on the road. That was his last sentence before the silence came again, broken by music from the radio and the sounds of cars outside. But it was soothing, the led lights were dark purple and before long your eye lids started being heavy and without realizing it, you fell asleep.

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Your body twitched and you instantly woke up, after you heard a sudden slam of the door. you rub your eyes and yawn tiringly, as you look from the window. You squinted your eyes when the lights of the gas station hit you, but after a while you got used to it, you try to orient yourself. When you wanted to check on the driver, he was gone. You tried to stay calm and not panic right away, as is your nature. You're only at the gas station, Logan must have gone to get gas or buy something, he doesn't want to bury you alive in the woods. Your paranoidness is really pathetic sometimes.

After a while, you heard a melody of door opening and immediately looked after the sound. Your eyes sparkle and your corners automatically lifted up when you saw him walking towards the limousine. Without realizing it, you felt a strange fluttering in your stomach when HE came into your sight. Feeling that you haven't experienced in a long time.

You watched his every step towards you, his serious expression still on his face with no sign of emotion. You sat back in the seat when Logan grabbed the handle and put his upper body into the car. "Hey...I was thinking you might want to drink something" he handed you one of his cups and gave you the cutest eyes you've ever seen. You though you were in a fever dream.

"Oh! T-thank you" you took the cup and giggle nervously, before your fingers touched by the process and you swear a spark jumped between you. The eye contact was intense, strong, almost romantic and none of you wanted to break it.

You hold your breath as you try to read his eyes, what he was thinking about. He flicked from your eyes to your lips quickly and then decided to go back to driver's seat. "Wait!" you stopped him quickly.

He bent down to see your face again and waited for your words. You didn't even know what you wanted. You had to think fast. "Can you...can you sit here with me for a while? I don't want to delay you, I just...I don't want to go home" you chuckle awkwardly as a side-smile appeared on your face.

Logan was quiet at first, again, not a single hint of any emotion in his face, but he got in and sat next to you, as you wished. He keeps the distance between you respectful, even though you wouldn't mind if he scoops a bit closer. "Why's that?" he raised his eyebrow and turned his head to you, looking deep into your eyes. You sighed and looked down while playing with your fingers.

"Well...it's a long story" you look back up at him, smiling softly. "I got time" his interest in you really warmed your heart and your inner self screamed with joy. Even though you are not a very extroverted person, you felt comfortable with him so he didn't have to tell you twice to talk.

"Well, today was supposed to be a hen party and originally, more girls were supposed to be here with me, but as you can see, that didn't quite work out...just a pinch of alcohol and they act like animals" you scoff and shake your head, being really pissed. You remember what they told you, how they treated you and didn't even give a hint of gratitude for the fact that you tried to get them a ride back.

"Oh...well-" he wanted to comfort you somehow, but you didn't finish and decided to confide properly. You surprised yourself. "You know, I really like them, but sometimes they act like total whores who only think about sex and dicks, not that there's anything wrong with that, but they just don't have any self-respect for themselves or others, and then I catch their rude behavior…”

You were so fired up about letting it all out that you didn't even realize the effect it must have on this man. When there was an awkward silence after your speech, you checked on him. He looked a little shocked but immediately cleared his throat and composed himself, so that he could finally react somehow, but you didn't let him, again.

"I have a pretty boring life, I admit, maybe I'm old-fashioned but I'm not really the type to sleep with the first guy I meet in a club..., anyway the answer to why I don't want to go home is simple, I still want to enjoy the freedom before going back to my awkward and boring office-life" this was the final speech and you felt amazing after that. Those words slipped out of your mouth so easily and you haven't confided in someone like this for a long time.

You sip from your cup loudly as the outrageous silence became really disconcerting. Your conscience began to eat away at you quickly, and since you didn't accept any answer, your nervousness grew rapidly. You started tapping your foot and gradually the shaking spread to your hands, which were holding the cup. You started to regret confiding so much and wanted to say something and save yourself a little, but a man's voice caressed your eardrums before you could speak.

"You don't look like someone who has a boring life" from everything you said you were surprised that he reacted to THAT but on the other hand, you were probably grateful for that, if he only reacted to the sex theme, it would probably put you both in an awkward situation. "Oh believe me, I really have…I'm not special" you smiled at him, your dimples shine as you try to read through his eyes again.

He frowned, that was the first facial movement you saw from him, you are finally getting somewhere. "C'mon your boyfriend sure thinks you're amazing" you chuckle softly and shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend" "Really?" he answered, maybe too quickly, a big surprise in his voice. You nodded and couldn't stop smiling.

"You're telling me that a beautiful lady like you doesn't have a boyfriend?" you giggle again as a reaction to his compliment and shake your head. You felt like a little girl getting compliments from adults, it was exciting. "Damn…" he leaned back in disbelief, looking really surprised. "That's a shame, boys must flock to you" his compliments started being overwhelming and every time he said something nice to you, there was that sharp kick right into your clitoris that makes your core pulsating. At first you were a little embarrassed to be turned on by such an old man's praise, but later you didn't care and just enjoyed the moment.

"Not really...I'm quite quiet" "I noticed" he gave you a smile, which almost made you faint. That cruel nasty man was gone and replaced by a nice gentleman with beautiful eyes. "I'm Logan by the way" he offered you a hand to shake which you took almost immediately and your smile grew bigger. Logan. His name kept repeating itself in your head. It was quite an unusual but unique name that sounded very nice and you would get used to screaming it easily, to be honest. "Y/n" you shake your hands and let go, feeling a bit sad when your skins stopped touching.

"Y/n..." he repeated your name to himself quietly, looking at you up and down, not caring if you notice or not. His confidence was really visible and that only added to his attractiveness. Although you just said that your friends sometimes act like whores who only think about sex and dicks, now you've turned into one of them. A million scenarios started forming in your head and your pulsating started being unbearable every second Logan look at you.

You had no idea what kind of magic it was that he was so extremely attracted to you, in fact you had no idea, except that you wanted to ride him till you can't walk anymore in this fancy limousine. As if he read your thoughts and subtly started bending closer to you. You hold your breath once again, as the distance between your lips started getting smaller, until it barely existed.

You were inches away from touching each other lips, no one had the guts to destroy the barrier until Logan gave up and finally kissed you. As if he was afraid of what your reaction would be, his lips barely touching yours, he was very careful. He didn't want to scare you, but you were the oposite. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and goosebumps surrounded your body when you felt his lips, but you wanted more.

That's why you headlessly grabbed Logan's neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Logan wasn't so careful anymore as your tongues battled for dominance and your hands encircled each other's bodies. At the beginning there were slow, peaceful kisses that quickly turned into a hungry and merciless ones.

You didn't last long on your place and slowly moved away from your seat to sit on Logan. He devilishly smirk into the kisses as he feel your ass on his lap, where his boner was already growing. He was exploring your body, every inch of you, he wanted to remember it. He traveled from your long hair to your ass, which he squeezed from time to time. You panties were soaking wet and your natural instincts took control. You started moving your hips back and forth, desperate for even a little friction.

Your movements made Logan groan and squeeze your ass even harder, making you moan. Your lips were still firmly glued to each other, even though you wanted to see Logan's face as you rode him through your clothes. His body is tensed as he tries to keep his voice quiet, even that he doesn't do it very well. He was as desperate as you, from the moment he saw you you were on his mind and he couldn't let you go. There's a reason your friends didn't go with you and you're actually grateful to them. Really fucking grateful.

Logan was getting tired of touching you only through your clothes, so he lifted your skirt up a bit and touched your folds through your soaked panties. He chuckled at the feeling and let go of your lips, looking into your lustful eyes. "You're so fucking wet" he growled and started creating pressure between your legs that increased with every movement he made. You could finally throw your head back and enjoy his fingers, which for an old man were damn nimble. He definitely has a lot of experience.

Your pelvis automatically moved along with his hand as your palms rested on his chest. You throw your head back and started unbuttoning his pants, making him giggle. "Someone is impatient" you smiled, intensely focused on his pants until he made an illegal move. Your eyes shut and head drop, when he put your panties aside and finally touched on your bare wet folds. He was enjoying the view of you, how your face was squeezed and your quiet whimpers started echoing throughout the limousine, you were perfect.

He couldn't resist and had to thrust both fingers into you at the same time, forcing you to throw your head back and drop your jaw wide open. You felt so full when he was expanding your walls but that was just the beginning. His fingers started curling into you, smooth steady motions that were throwing you closer to your orgasm. “Logan” you were wailing his name over and over again as you started ride on his fingers. Your nails sank into his thighs but he barely felt it.

One of his hands was on your waist trying to keep you still at least a little bit, while the other was fingering you with no mercy. He noticed how you started clenching around him and even your moans started being cut off. You didn't need to tell him twice that you are about to cum right on his fingers, he knew it very well. You felt the weird feeling to go pee and your stomach started clenching, just a few more movements and you would cum, but he stopped.

He pulled his fingers out of you and you immediately look at him confused, sighing at the lost. He smiles, sucking his fingers and looking in your eyes while he taste you. He rolled his eyes and growls loudly. "Fuck you taste amazing" this sentence makes you wet again and your core pulsates even more than before. Logan let go of your weist and started clumsily taking off his pants. You quickly get up so you won't not to get in his way, and the moment his pants along with his boxers touched his ankles, he didn't hesitate for a second. He grabbed your hips harshly and eagerly forced you to sit on him.

You adored his impetuous behavior and how much he was craving for you, for your body, for the fuck. Even though he looked two hundred years old, he had an outrageous amount of energy in him and his body was bursting with adrenaline. You, on the other hand, weren't much different. Your horniness knew no bounds and the passion you felt was irreplaceable.

Your only focus was on Logan, you didn't care if anyone caught or heard you, you wanted him inside you no matter what. You look down at his penis, veiny, unshaven and huge. You gasped a little as the thought that this would all be inside you besieged you, but your excitement was much greater than your fear. "Surprised baby?" the craspy voice rang in your ears and you immediately look in front of you, his myschivious grin makes your core pulsates even more and the lust for orgasm was incalculable.

Your mouth filled with saliva and you weren't going to hold on to the anticipation any longer. You slowly started lowering yourself, your breath stuck in your throat as you felt his tip touching you. "Good girl, nice and slow..." Logan was looking down at the part where you two are going to connect, his strong arms still holding your hips and subtly forcing you to take him.

His words soothed and excited you at the same time, which is why his intrusion wasn't as painful. You groan loudly as his tip was fully inside you, already feeling full but that still wasn't the end. You change your hand placement to his chest, squeezing his boobs without realizing it, but Logan loved every moment of it. He decided to help you and slowly lifted up his hips, pushing further into you. Before long he was all inside you, you couldn't believe how full you were and how he was stretching your walls much more than before with his fingers. Your juice was already dropping on his cock, that was hard as a stone inside you.

He waited a while for you to get used to his length and during that he grabbed your neck and kissed you aggressively. When your hips started moving instinctively, he deduced that you were ready. With his hands still holding your hips, he was forcing you to move back and forth, heating up and creating pressure, like some type of foreplay. Your lips were still glued to his until you couldn't take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath. Your head dropped as your whining grew louder and louder.

“Yeah that's it princess…” he growled as he watched your face, still holding you tightly. His pelvis started moving along with yours, his pulse increased and his breathing slowed down. “Such a good girl” the endless compliments only helped to bring you closer to your climax and he was well aware of that. You look up through your eye lids, seeing him intensely focused with furrowed eyebrows send a chill down your spine.

You gradually began to pick up your pace and strength, each movement bringing you both closer and your moans getting louder. The car was starting to smell like sex and the atmosphere around you was getting thick. Logan wanted more, so he makes your hips go up and then thrust down. You scream his name as he did it again, but this was exactly what you both needed. He helped you a bit but after a while you could jump on him by yourself, the incredibly lust to reach your orgasm made you forget about exhaustion.

Logan dropped his jaw and shut his eyes as your ass was clapping against his thighs. His dick was twitching inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours. That spongy sensitive spot calling the cervix sends incredible waves of pleasure whenever he hits it. You both were sighing in a rhythm as the juicy sounds started getting louder. “That's it baby…that's it” with a struggle he praised you again and banged you, desperately trying to finally reach his orgasm.

You knew you won't last long anymore. The overwhelming tense feeling started shutting down all your senses. Goosebombs jumped on every part of your body as you squeezed his breasts hard, making him chuckle. "C'mon baby, give it to me" this was the last straw when he gave you this green flag to cum. You put all your strength and energy into your hips and into finally achieving what you longed for. You slowly throw your head back again and just whimper quietly, as your hips took on the incredible speed of light.

When the feeling of going to pee and release finally washed over you, your entire body tensed and you shiver. You were paralyzed and your hips stopped moving when you finally reached your golden orgasm. But Logan didn't stop and when he felt how hard you clenched around him and saw your cumming face, he lost his control in hips and cum just few seconds after you. He emptied his balls into you, not missing a single drop and grunted very VERY loudly as he nearly crushed your hips. When you both calmed down a bit, the only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

"Fuck you were...incredible" you breathed out and Logan chuckled, nodding as a acceptence of your compliment. "You too sweatheart" you looked into his eyes with a surprised expression. He gave you those nicknames during sex, that's why you were shocked when he told you after it too. Your corners lifted up and your heart melts, making it hard for Logan to resist and he needed to kiss you one more time. But this time it was a long, romantic kiss that you hadn't received in decades.

When he pulled away, leaving just a tiny space between your noses, your teasing mood started setting in. "You lasted quite long for an old guy" he furrowed his eyebrows but smiled, as he sensed your teasing behavior. "Oh really?" he tsks before he asked ironically and you just hummed. "Say that again and you'll regret it" he warned you but you knew it was just a part of the teasing-play you had going on. "Okay, sorry, grandpa" you devilishly smile as you said the last word.

"That's it" Logan grabbed you and threw you gently on the floor of the limousine, making you smile. He started kissing you aggressively with his dick still deeply inside you.

"You won't be able to walk after this"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════



[bbokicidal]

Again & Again. | Hybrid!SKZ [B.C.]

╱|、 Pairing : Wolf Hybrid!Bangchan x Fem!Reader (˚ˎ 。7 Warnings : Aggressive Chan, Sexual Content (MDNI), biting, knotting, |、˜〵 choking/pinning, spit/drool, growling/snapping, borderline BDSM じしˍ,)ノ Notes : Day 3 of 4 from the BbokiDwae Collab with @dwaekkicidal!

ㅤ-`♡´- Hybrid!Chan likes to have his way - all of the time. But that's because he views himself as the Alpha in your household, so if you comply with him, it just makes everything easier. And of course, that slips over into the bedroom as well. -`♡´- Which means that he wants you to just sit still, look pretty, and let him abuse your holes until you're reduced to tears that stain the soft white sheets under your head.

-`♡´- Constant, hard, rough, bed-rocking, headboard-slamming-on-the-wall fucking ; whether that means he's got you bent over the side of the bed or he's mounting you from behind - maybe even letting you sit atop his hips while he pushes his cock up into you from below. -`♡´- He cannot do soft sex unless he absolutely has to. And there is a reason for that.

-`♡´- Primal urges are constant when it's mating season for him. He's growling under his breath at people who get too close to you, he always has to have his hands on your waist or in your back pocket, and if you're at home then he's stuck to your side like glue. -`♡´- And those primal urges also transfer into the bedroom as well. He'll snarl at you from behind when you squirm as your orgasm approaches, whispering out that you should stay still if you want it to take and that he's going to keep going until he knows you're full of his pups. -`♡´- If you're not listening and keep moving underneath him, he'll scruff you by biting at the side of your neck and sinking his teeth in just enough to hold you tight. It hurts, he knows it hurts, and he'll apologize for it later with a soft whimper in his voice - but for now he just needs your pretty body to lay still for him.

-`♡´- Speaking of urges - during mating season all they're telling him to do is breed. -`��´- He's constantly in you - pinning you down with a hand on your neck on the sofa, bending you over in the bed, filling you to the brim against the kitchen counter; He's fucking up into you with heavy balls and a ruddy tip that is always, always leaking in desperation to be rubbing up on your gummy pink walls. -`♡´- And he's got so much cum to give. During mating season his body is constantly vibrating, jittery and aching for release. And one knot is never enough.

-`♡´- He's flooding you with cum so much so that even his knot can't contain it. He'll fuck into you, growl out as soon as his knot inflates and huff as it locks him into you - and even then he won't stop, rutting his hips desperately for more friction until he's grinding his cock deeper against your walls, kissing your cervix with a tip that spurts thick ropes of white to fill you up. -`♡´- And as soon as his knot deflates, it comes leaking out the moment he moves away. So he plugs you up again, cock still hard and eyes rolling back at the way you're so slick now. And how is he supposed to stop then, hm?

-`♡´- There is a lot of biting involved. You're constantly covered in marks of his dominance and adoration by being littered with imprints of his canines - though he knows better and will leave them in less obvious places - both from holding you down/frustration and pent up feelings and from needing to mark you up so others know that his territory includes you. -`♡´- And the man is feral. He's absolutely going to be drooling when he fucks you, tongue sliding over his lips over and over at the sight of how delicious your body looks rocking underneath his as he fucks into you for the fourth time that evening - if you ask nicely, and if you're into it, he may just spit on your pussy too. (He probably will anyway.)

-`♡´- He is determined to breed you. Even if you're on birth control or simply don't want kids (and he knows it), he'll still attempt to fill you up as much as he possibly can. Even though there's just so much cum that it all ends up leaking out in the end.

-`♡´-

"Gonna fill you up. You want that, yeah? You want me to fill you up?" He'll whine to mock your moans, brows crinkling when you choke on your sounds. "Say it." He'll growl, "Say you want it."

"Sit still. Sit still," He huffs, hand landing a harsh slap to your ass before squeezing the tender flesh in an attempt to keep you from moving. "Don't you want my pups, baby? Then quit moving."

"Oh my God, you're so fucking tight. So warm. God, don't ever wanna pull outta this pretty pussy."

"Where are you going?" He'll chuckle, grabbing onto your hips to drag you back to him when you try to crawl away for a small break between fuckings. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Fuck, might break you open. Split your pussy apart with my knot. Think you can take it? Yeah? Well you're gonna."

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.��� 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[shotmrmiller]

now im thinking about how you're technically johnny's wife of convenience but now also simon's girlfriend.

like maybe you're crazy but you do remember johnny telling you that you can see other people, just don't bring them home. but every time you try to, simon is there.

something always suspiciously happens when you're out, conveniently forcing you to cut the date short, and the one that picks you up is simon. he doesn't even let you walk yourself out either. he'll already be at your table, putting your phone and wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. and what's worse, with the one guy who didn't mind, the one who had asked for a raincheck, simon told him that you have a husband at home waiting for them with a warm dinner.

he chuckles under his breath at the guy's reaction— ashen face, wide eyes, and gaping mouth. "don't know what ya saw in tha' bloke anyway. he didn't even cover the bill." because simon stared at him until he skittered out the front door without a backward glance.

and then their dates. they're supposed to be a couple; you're just a front, so why do they keep taking you with them as a third wheel. is it an exhibitionist kink? because that's what it feels like every time they're together. it's all sloppy kisses, grabby hands and you swear that if you hadn't spun around and briskly walked away that one lazy saturday simon was home, they would've probably let you watch them fuck each other stupid on the living room carpet.

it's also hard to bring it up to johnny because either simon's there, leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed as he watches you exist, or is taking up far too much space on the couch so that if you want to sit there and watch the telly, you're obligated to press up against his massive thigh. (manspreading, simon? really? truly?) or you can't look him in the eye after listening to the headboard repeatedly slam against the wall all night. you can still hear johnny's moans curling around the edges of your very conscious.

then, you meet the rest of the 141: a tall, broad bear of a man with the ocean in his eyes and an iconic mutton chop beard. john price, he'd rumbled as he shook your hand. and then the other one, a devastatingly pretty man with chocolate-brown eyes, a small scar on his cheek, and perfect, white teeth. kyle, the boys call me gaz. a pleasure. he'd grabbed your hand with both of his as he also shook it.

johnny doesn't stick around, excusing himself quickly as he takes a phone call but simon does. he stands directly behind you— a suffocating presence a silent guardian— so close you can feel his body warmth on the expanse of your back.

little close there, eh simon?

no' at all, boss.

once he starts showing up at your college with lunch, you feel like your patience is dangling by a fragile, whisper-thin thread so you confront him directly.

only to have him shut you down in seconds.

what's johnny's is mine. now sit, i know ya didn't eat breakfast this mornin'.

at least he brought you your favorite meal:}

[aakeysmash]

christmas shopping, matching pajamas and family discounts

college!sukuna masterlist

"Why are we here again?" college!sukuna huffs from next to you for the umpteenth time.

"Stop acting like a little bitch. You asked me that 20 seconds ago, Yuuji is acting better than you," you hiss out, glaring at him. It's true though: the kid is trotting right in front of you two, not a care in the world, while his caretaker is currently dragging his feet on the pavement you're walking on.

"And you still didn't answer, fucker," he barks back, grimacing, kicking a little rock.

"Yes, I fucking did! I told you this morning we were going Christmas shopping! You never listen to me," you start, jutting your lip out and trying to play the victim. You know he hates it when you do it. "Maybe I should tell Yuuji how his big brother hates the idea of going shopping with him," you provoke, whispering so that only you and him know what you're talking about. He scoffs, offended.

"Liar. Don't you fucking dare-"

"Are you two fighting again?" whines Yuuji, turning around and pouting. You and Sukuna glance at each other before shaking your head at the same moment.

"No, we're getting along so well," you force yourself to smile.

"Yeah, she said she's so glad I'm accompanying her. Matter of fact, she said she's going to offer us lunch," Sukuna continues, an evil glint in his eyes when he hears you gasp.

"I did not-"

"Really?! Yippie!" screams Yuuji, coming to hug you violently. You stumble back, gritting your teeth, and reciprocate the hug while narrowing your eyes at the grinning tattooed man in front of you. He knows you're not able to say no to his brother.

When Yuuji runs inside the mall, you push Sukuna's shoulder, mumbling "bitch". He just chuckles, then boldly gets you close by placing one open hand on your lower back. You know he's just going to tease you, so you put both hands on his chest to fight back, trying to put some distance between you two, but the place is crowded and everyone is looking at you. A woman passes by you and looks at you weirdly, so you stop wriggling in his grasp, and he delicately pushes you even closer. You're chest to chest, his breath fanning over your features, grin ever present on his face, enjoying how you look pissed out of your mind. From the outside, it looks like you're hugging each other, when in reality he just puts his mouth on your ear to utter "Never play with me, baby. I know how to drive you mad," then frees you and walks behind Yuuji with his hands in his pockets, not turning back to see if you're following him or not. You're seething.

"Oh my God, Yuuji, look at these!" you swoon over a pair of pajama pants. They're a soft brown, decorated with little green Christmas' trees and little reindeers, a bright red Merry Christmas! on both knees.

"It's a set!" squeals the kid next to you, grabbing the sweater right on top of the piece of cloth you have in your hands. You both notice at the same time that the set comes both in adults' and kids' sizes. "Can we take it?" he asks you looking up, puppy eyes activated. Your heartstrings are pulled so tight you feel like you could implode if you look at his face for a second longer.

"Of course we can, I thought it was obvious," you say excitedly, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down with him in a circle while he laughs, smile on full display and brown eyes squeezed shut happily.

Sukuna, who has kept watching his phone for the majority of the time you've been inside the mall, raises his gaze when he hears your laugh mingled with his brother's. If you had been looking at him in that instant, you would've seen the brief soft glimpse that passed on his whole face when he took in how happy you both looked together. When you turn around, though, he's already schooled his features to appear bored.

"Are we done?" he yawns.

"Would you like to match with us?" you ask him, at the same time. You scowl and he scoffs.

"Hell no, girl. I'm not with whatever stupid shit y'all are doing," he says, trying to act tougher than what he actually feels like. Seeing you being kind to the only person in the world who shares 100% of his genes makes him feel things he doesn't want to acknowledge right now.

"You're a party pooper, 'Kuna," Yuuji mumbles, frowning. "Can we still match? I really want us to match," he adds, shily, looking at you. You're shocked. His cheeks are getting redder the more you gawk at him. "Sorry, you can say no-"

Your kiss on his cheek resonates all around the ally you're currently staying in. "Of course I want to match with you. We don't need your evil brother, Yuuji. Let's go try them on," you sweetly say, taking his hand and walking away from Sukuna, not before flipping him off. Yuuji is so giddy that he follows you like he's walking on clouds, his face slightly hurting from how hard he's cheesing.

Sukuna just stands there, baffled and even a little offended. He stiffens, noticing he still has his phone in his hands. He's so fast with it he's the first to remain shocked by his own actions: he hears the click of his camera and looks at the pic he's just taken, feeling his chest heavier than it's ever been. It's a beautifully taken pic, where you and Yuuji are squinting at each other, hand in hand, laughing. He turns off his screen, shakes his head and catches up to you. You're going to give him a headache if you continue being like this. Or a heart attack. Or both.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" the nice old lady at the checkout says.

"Hi, we'd like to take these two pieces," you kindly respond, handing her the pajamas you and Yuuji just tried on.

"Let me see... oh, we actually have a family discount on this! Is the daddy not going to take anything?" she innocently asks, looking over at your older roommate.

"Yo, I'm not his-"

Your eyes almost fall out of your sockets. "Ah ah ah! Silly us! We forgot his one! Just give me a second," you interrupt a scowling Sukuna, covering his mouth with your hand before he can finish his sentence, dragging him away. Yuuji gives the old lady a confused look, to which she responds with "Young parents these days," shaking her head.

"You're going to take the fucking matching set, Sukuna, and you're going to like it," you seethe, still dragging him away (well, it's more like he's letting you drag him away). You hear how he's trying to talk behind your hand. "Don't piss me off. I'm going to pay less to get more, and you're going to listen to me. Go." You ignore him and he raises one eyebrow, looking you up and down, before biting your fingers. You yelp and let him go, scowling. "I said go! And act like you care about me when we get there, we're a family until the discount tells us so!"

"Okay, ma'am," he grins down to you, wiping his saliva from the corner of his mouth with a slow movement, his gaze lingering a bit too much on the way you're panting.

"Move! Take your size and let's go! Yuuji is waiting for us!" you push him, rushing back to the cashier.

"Oh, you were really fast. I thought you were going to argue with the way you rushed away," she says when she sees you come back, surprised. You nervously chuckle, telling her how you were already planning on buying one for Sukuna, you just forgot. "That would be 20.99$."

While you're swiping your card, you suddenly feel engulfed by heat. Sukuna positions his hands on your waist, giving you a half hug from behind while simultaneously giving his best confident grin to the old lady in front of him.

"Yeah. I just like when she bosses me around a bit, if you know what I mean," he says, sultry, winking at the cashier who is chuckling behind her hand, embarrassed, waving him away.

What the fuck? You initially try not to stiffen, then relax and give her a shy smile, and he squeezes you a bit closer. You melt on his chest, feeling hotter than you've felt all day. He's so comfortable. He brushes his lips near your ear and makes sure you hear the way his raspy voice is all around you. "And I do, baby. I really do."

[itadorey]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 (𝐘𝐎𝐔), 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐃 (𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈), & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 (𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎)

pairing: gojo satoru x zenin!reader (gn) summary: gojo takes you to meet megumi, only to end up regretting it when the younger boy immediately takes a liking to you. genre: slice-of-life, fluff, humor, flirting, pre-relationship notes: same universe as "the man of your dreams" but can be read as a standalone!!, reader is part of the zenin clan and has prophetic dreams, megumi likes to make gojo's life difficult, tsumiki is not present here, megumi is the bad bc he bullies gojo :) wc: ~2.4k

"let's go!"

gojo blinks when your door swings open, his hand still up in the air and ready to knock as you brush past him. he doesn't move even as you begin to make your way down the hall, and you softly call out his name when you realize he isn't following.

"is there a problem?" you ask, your voice snapping him out of his daze as he turns to face you. he smiles lightly at the sight of you, taking in the way your head tilts to the side as you give him a questioning look.

"no, none at all," he responds, putting his hands into his pockets as he approaches you. "where are you off to?"

you give him an exasperated look, rolling your eyes as you turn away from him. "don't be coy, it doesn't suit you. i know what we're doing today."

"and?" gojo questions, giving you a sly look as he passes you. "what exactly are we doing?"

you sigh deeply as you catch up to him, hands behind your back as you bump your shoulder against him. "i'm meeting them today."

gojo gives you a faux curious glance, causing you to huff lightly before elaborating.

"fushiguro megumi and fushiguro tsumiki," you state, giving gojo a nervous glance. "that's who you're taking me to, right?"

gojo hums noncommittedly, bumping his hip against you as he turns down another hallway. you trail after him, nodding your head in thanks when he holds the door open for you.

"tsumiki won't be there today, she's at a friend's house. but yeah," gojo finally says, his voice unusually serious. "i just think it'd be good for megumi to meet a zenin who isn't..."

"awful?" you supply, raising an eyebrow when gojo shoots you a look. "horrible? rude? take your pick, they're all true."

"you said it, not me," gojo laughs, leading you off of school grounds. the rest of the walk is silent, and you find yourself enjoying gojo's company as he leads you towards the city.

the two of you come to a stop outside a well-kept building, and you take a deep breath as you look up at the sign hanging above the door. there's a slight tremble in your fingers as you grab onto your sleeve, and gojo silently raises an eyebrow when he notices the action.

"so?" he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "how'd you know?"

"what?" you ask, your nervousness fading as you turn your attention to the white-haired sorcerer.

"that we were coming here?"

he's met with a dull look, and he does his best to fight off his laughter as you sigh in exasperation before motioning towards your head.

"prophetic dreams, remember?" you respond, reaching over to flick his shoulder. you frown when your hit doesn't land, and you shake your head when you remember the existence of infinity. "i saw this happening."

"oh?" gojo asks, giving you a sly look as he leans in close. "so you're still dreaming about me huh?"

you give him a flat look, refusing to give into his teasing. the smile stays on his face as he tries to catch your gaze, and you simply turn your attention back to the building as he slings an arm over your shoulders.

"shall we get this over with?" he asks, already leading you inside before you can even answer. a strangled noise leaves your mouth at his sudden movement, and gojo laughs it off as he ushers you into the elevator.

"what if he doesn't like me?" you ask quietly, wringing your hands as you spare a glance at gojo. he snorts at your question, crossing his arms and leaning against the elevator's wall as it begins to move.

"he doesn't like anyone," he scoffs, waving a hand in an attempt to dismiss your worries. "he's a brat but he's cute, i guess."

you laugh hollowly at his response, following him down the hall as the elevator doors open.

"ready?" gojo asks, coming to a stop in front of a dark, wooden door and unlocking it.

"no," you confess, your shoulders tensing up as he turns the doorknob.

"aw, that's too bad."

the first thing you see when you step through the doorway is a large, fluffy couch. the second thing you notice is the tuft of dark hair that pops up from the aforementioned couch, and you hold your breath as it makes its way around the couch and towards the door.

"megumi! i'm home!" gojo announces, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he pushes you further into the apartment. you can hear a brief grumble coming from megumi, and gojo's smile appears slightly strained as he looks up at the ceiling. "and i brought company!"

"who is that?" megumi asks, finally coming to a stop in front of the two of you. there's a moment of silence before you bow your head, introducing yourself and giving him a soft smile. there's a spark of interest in his eye when he hears your last name, and they narrow when they land on gojo's hands pressed comfortably against your back.

there's an awkward silence before you glance around, and you swallow harshly before gingerly attempting to pat gojo's shoulder. you hide your mild shock when you actually make contact.

"can i have some water please?" you ask politely, earning a nod from him.

"megumi, go get our guest some water," gojo says, biting back a smile as megumi scowls.

"i asked you, not him," you retort, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. "stop being a pain."

you feel gojo's fingers tense against your back, and he throws his head back to laugh as your expression remains unimpressed.

"are you two dating?"

the two of you whip around to face megumi, who watches the two of you with a conflicted expression. you can see the mild disgust in his eyes as he looks at gojo, and you hold back a laugh when his expression turns pitying as he faces you.

"no!" you deny, ignoring the way gojo sputters at the question. he makes no move to step away from you, and you decide to take the initiative and move closer to megumi while leaving gojo behind.

"good," is all megumi says, earning an amused laugh from you and an indignant scoff from gojo. you wave him towards the kitchen, taking a seat on the couch and smiling when megumi takes the spot next to you.

"how come you're here with him?" megumi asks once gojo is out of the room. you watch him for a few seconds, his green eyes boring into you as he studies you in return.

"he's helping me out," you say in response, confusion coloring megumi's face as he tilts his head. you're hesitant as you continue to speak, your voice a lot quieter than it had previously been. "i'm in a similar situation as yours."

"oh," he breathes.

"oh," you agree.

he shuffles closer to you as you sink into the couch cushions, and you can't stop yourself from patting his head, your fingers playing with the soft strands of his hair as he stares down at his shoes. you feel your heart lurch uncomfortably as you watch megumi, thinking about how unfair it is that a child is trapped in the same situation that you are. you can't help but feel thankful that gojo found megumi before the zenin clan could, and you remind yourself to thank him for his decision as soon as you can.

neither one of you notice the way gojo watches the two of you from the kitchen doorway, three bottles of water balanced between his hands as he does his best to not drop them.

"you wanna see something?" megumi asks, breaking the silence. you nod your head eagerly, earning a tiny smile from the young boy. he slides off the couch and brings his hands together, forming what looks like a hand shadow puppet. your jaw drops as two large dogs emerge from the shadows, coming to a stop next to megumi as his chest puffs up in pride.

"woah! that's so cool!" you say, reaching a hand out for one of the dogs to sniff. it eyes you warily, pushing the top of its head into your palm when it decides you're not a threat. the other dog approaches cautiously, and you find yourself giggling as the two dogs butt heads in an attempt to be pet by you.

"can you do this too?" megumi asks quietly, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly when you shake your head.

"no, i didn't inherit this technique," you say softly, playing with both dogs as they lay down on their backs. "you have a very impressive technique, you know?"

"what's yours?" he asks shyly, sitting down on the floor and leaning in to pet the dogs as well.

"i can see the future," you say, watching as his eyes widen. "but only in my dreams."

"woah!"

"here's your water!" gojo sings, throwing himself onto the couch next to you. he smiles widely as his sudden movement forces you to lean into him, and he ignores your annoyed grumbles as he hands you a bottle. you take it from him with a quiet thanks, and he wastes no time in tossing one of the other bottles to megumi, snickering when the younger boy fumbles with the bottle before it ultimately falls to the floor.

you smack him lightly as he leans forward to pet the divine dogs, pouting when megumi dismisses them right before he can make contact with their soft fur. you snort at the sight before jumping up from the couch, looking around the apartment as you step away from gojo.

"where's your bathroom?" you ask, nodding firmly when both gojo and megumi point towards the dark hallway behind you. "i'll be right back."

gojo's eyes remain on you as you walk away, and he only looks away when he hears a tiny scoff from megumi. he turns to face the green-eyed boy, raising an eyebrow when he sees him staring with his arms crossed.

"you like them," megumi accuses, a scowl on his face as he takes note of the way gojo looks down the hallway you've disappeared into. gojo stays silent as he thinks about megumi's words, only responding when he hears megumi speak again. "stay away from my clan."

"your clan?" gojo laughs, avoiding megumi's question.

"yes, the zenin clan," megumi says, looking at gojo as though he's the stupidest person on earth. "we don't need you to taint our bloodline."

gojo's jaw drops at megumi's words, and he leaps from his seat to glare down at him over his sunglasses. "listen here! you should be honored to have me be with someone in your clan. and besides, you can't decide who they like!"

"but you do like them?" is all megumi says in return, a smug look on his face as he glares back just as fiercely.

"i never—"

"is everything okay here?"

gojo and megumi turn to see you standing in the hallway, stifling a laugh as you watch gojo argue with a child. they both straighten up and nod, and you wander over to the couch as gojo plops back down on the cushion. you take a seat next to him when he pats the empty space next to him, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. he pointedly ignores megumi's glare.

"so," you begin, your eyes trained on megumi as he turns to look at you curiously. "i have to admit that you've appeared in my dreams. but i saw other animals surrounding you. can you summon different shikigami?"

megumi nods softly, an eager glint in his eye as he stands from his spot and looks over at gojo. you follow his gaze in time to see him nod at megumi, and you turn back when megumi clears his throat.

you watch as he summons a small crowd of bunnies, delight visible in your eyes as you lean forwards to grab one.

"megumi, you are so cool!"

gojo can't help the way his heart swells when megumi lets out a laugh.

"bye, megumi! i'll come back and visit," you promise, reaching down to pat the boy's head as he follows you to the door.

"promise?" he asks quietly, looking down at the floor.

"i promise," you state firmly, nodding once. he looks up to see you motion to your head, a kind smile on your face as you slip your feet into your shows. "in fact, i know it. i've already dreamt it."

your statement makes megumi's scowl soften, and the rest of your goodbyes are exchanged without incident. you sigh softly as you walk back down the street with gojo, a giddy smile still on your face as you think about your meeting with megumi.

things had gone better than expected, and you can't help but think how lucky you are to have found gojo, who in return led you to megumi.

"you know what?" you ask, holding back laughter as gojo hums in acknowledgment. "i think he likes me."

you laugh when gojo scoffs loudly, and he can't help but grin along as you bump him with your shoulder. a few minutes of silence pass as the two of you walk up the familiar road that leads to the school, and you steel yourself before finally saying what's on your mind.

"gojo?" you say quietly.

"yeah?" he asks in return, confusion on his face when you come to a stop. he freezes in place when you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug as you pull him close. his arms wrap around your waist in return, and he rests his cheek against the top of your head as he lets his eyes flutter shut.

"thank you," you whisper softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel his fingers splay across your back. "for helping me and for taking such good care of megumi and tsumiki."

your words ring in gojo's ear, and he leans back slightly to look down at you. your eyes have a slight sheen to them, and he decides to forgo teasing you in favor of holding you close for just a little bit longer. he never knew he could grow so attached to two members of the zenin clan.

"always."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

[annievrse]

origami flowers

sebastian x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb

you hear a familiar voice call your name as you trudge down the hallway of weston college, your shoes clicking against the concrete floor. you're not sure where you're going; being the faux nurse of the school while ciel and sebastian figure out why children are going missing gives you more free time than you're used to. but with no need to go to the infirmary, you've been exploring the campus.

pausing mid-step and spinning, your eyes widen when you see ciel running towards you.

"young master?" your voice goes up an octave in surprise. "what happened?" you ask, your voice sharp with concern.

the younger boy pants with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. "we have an... issue..."

you glance behind you to check nobody is coming and lean down—it's a good thing everybody is in class. "where's sebastian?"

ciel gives you a worried look and stands straight, his hand wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "that's precisely the problem... i don't know."

furrowing your brows, you sigh and stride past your master. ciel's calls of your name fall on deaf ears as you make a beeline for your infirmary. "i apologise, young master. follow me."

ciel shakes his head in disbelief at the random demand but follows you nonetheless, his steps quickening to catch up to you.

"shouldn't you be in class?" you tease, turning the corner.

ciel rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance. "i was, but i broke the quill i was using, and i was sent to my dorm to retrieve another."

"i see," you smirk, trying to hold back your giggle. "and did this broken quill have anything to do with the fact that you haven't seen sebastian since last night?"

"perhaps..." he eyes you suspiciously. and then his face slackens and he glares at you. "you know where he is."

you wave your hand flippantly. "i have an idea."

fishing the key to your temporary office out of your blazer pocket, you slide it into the keyhole and twist.

and low and behold, ciel's butler sits hunched over your desk.

ciel lets out a strangled sound and steps into the clinic. "what the devil are you doing in here?"

"my lord," sebastian raises his head in surprise, something foreign to both you and your young master.

sighing, you approach him, watching his hands fold paper delicately.

ciel just shakes his head at the pile of origami flowers overflowing onto the floor next to sebastian. "playing with paper, are we?"

you notice what ciel does a moment later, your cheeks warming at the sheer amount of work he had done. "seb..."

sebastian stands, paper flowers falling from his lap onto the floor as his hand comes to rest on his chest. "i apologise, my lord, i did not realise the time."

he doesn't meet your gaze as you pick up a pink flower and twirl it between your fingers.

ciel narrows his eyes but says nothing at the sight.

"i was unaware i was occupied for this long, my lord. i will get to making the pastries for afternoon tea shortly."

ciel shakes his head, turning toward the door. "no need. they are no longer required. i will handle the situation myself."

sebastian nods despite knowing ciel cannot see. "indeed."

"just be in your office tonight so we can prepare for soma's arrival."

lowering his head, sebastian bows. "yes, my lord."

and when the door to your clinic closes, sebastian's hand returns to his side. "i saw one of the students making them," he gestures to the flowers. "do you like them?"

you smile and nod. "they're incredible, sebastian."

leaning over your desk, he gathers his creations, and before your eyes, they transform into a bouquet. your eyes widen at the sight, and you look up at him. sebastian's cheeks are dusted pink, though you deduce it to the lighting because he doesn't show such emotion.

"these are for you," sebastian mutters, handing you the bunch.

your breath gets caught in your throat before you whisper, "thank you."

a smirk pulls at the corner of sebastian's lips, and he nods once. "you're welcome, dearest."

you turn away from his piercing gaze, grasping the flowers in your arms. "next time you stay in my bed, don't become so distracted from your duties that ciel has to come to me to find you."

this time, sebastian's lips morph into a smug smile. "of course. it won't happen again."

and when you put the origami flowers into an empty vase, you know he's running through all the scenarios where he could do exactly that once more.

[osachiyo]

⋆｡°DRUNK DAZED ! ☆

﹙✮﹚── includes : dazai, chuuya, atsushi, ranpo, sigma & tetchou x fem! reader ♡

﹙✮﹚── content warnings : nsfw content (mdni), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, facesitting, overstimulation, petnames, degradation, penetrative sex, a teeeeeny tiny mention of blood etc ♡

﹙✮﹚── synopsis : they're pussydrunk ♡

﹙✮﹚── author's note : since y'all chose smut for the poll here you guys go, enjoy the meal hehe 😋 birthday fic coming next so keep an eye out for that 😏

DAZAI ⋆｡° ✮

You bit on your bottom lip to suppress your moans, legs shaking like jelly as a mixture of your slick and your boyfriend's saliva ran down your legs, staining the cold floor of the storage room of the agency. You really hoped nobody came to look for you two, or even walk in the direction of the room.

"keep your legs open, pretty," dazai slurred, his voice deep with lust and more importantly, the adoration he held for you. You were his pretty baby, after all. His sweet belladonna, who he was eating like a 3 course meal right now. You were pushed against the door of the storage room while he was on his knees, worshipping his pussy.

Dazai felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, it was most likely Kunikida, wondering where the hell the brunette went during work hours. He couldn't care less though, too busy making out with your cunt. His skilled tongue worked wonders on your clit, fingers buried knuckles deep into your velvety walls as you bit the back of your hand to try and stay quiet. He kept eye contact with you the whole time, pulling his fingers out briefly to fuck you with his tongue, chocolate brown eyes staring deep into your own teary ones. "you look so beautiful right now. I wish you could see yourself, bella," he hummed, voice smooth like honey as he buried his face even deeper between your wobbly legs, wanting to taste every last drop of your addicting arousal. He could feel his cock throbbing in his pants, the fabric ever so restricting. He ignored it though, too focused on making you cum on his tongue first. His nose bumped against your clit everytime he thrusted his tongue into you. He watched your eyes roll back slightly, losing focus as you tug on his fluffy hair, "close— 'm close! 'samu—" you threw your head back, some drool slipping past your lips as your grip tightened on his brunette roots. "I know, baby, I know. cum f'me, sweetheart. I know you can," he groaned, the noise vibrating against your cunt. That was the last straw before you came all over his face. He eagerly slurped up all of your slick, moaning lowly at the slightly bitter taste. You were addicting to him. He stood up, dusting off his pants before he pulled your panties back up, snapping the waistband against your skin with a smirk. His arms were still holding you up, supporting your weight as you calmed down from your high. You looked down to see a puddle of your juices on the floor and Dazai's...soaked pants? "osamu, did you—" you were cut off by the door slamming open.

You were fucked, good luck.

CHUUYA ⋆｡° ✮

You were tied to the bedpost for God knows how long, the red ribbons snaked around your naked body while the pretty pink vibrator attached to your clit buzzed away, tormenting you with each passing second. You regretted messing with Chuuya during his phone call. You should've just been a good girl, he said before leaving you all tied up and needy.

Your ears perked up when the bedroom door opened, Chuuya walked in the room with a cocky smirk. "how's my little slut holding up?" He chuckled, clearly satisfied with how much of a mess he made you. He brushed a few stray hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ear. He groaned, you were practically sitting on a pool of your own arousal, your inner thighs shiny with your slick. He brought a hand down to your core, collecting some of your slick on his gloved finger before shoving them inside you. You gasped, back arching from the sudden intrusion. Your tummy felt like it was on fire, being denied release for hours. "s'mean— you're mean," you sniffeled, glaring up at your lover with teary eyes. His lips stretched to a grin at your adorableness, "this too much for you, sweetness?" He cooed, making space for himself between your legs and laying on his stomach. He took his gloves off, chucking them somewhere in the room before he licked his lips in anticipation. He could smell how turned on you were, desperate for your sweet orgasm. Your hips bucked when his fingers inched closer to your heat, making him stifle a laugh. He finally took the vibrator off, placing it on the fancy nightstand beside the bed before diving head first between your thighs. He licked a fat stripe up your cunt, bucking his hips into the soft mattress as he ate you like a starved animal. You tried to grab onto something— anything to ground yourself but alas, you were still tied up. He suckled on your swollen clit eagerly, lips wrapped around the sensitive bud as his tongue swirled around it. You squealed when his fingers pushed into your hole again, your gummy walls twitching around them. "good— tastes so good, doll. been thinking about this all fucking evening,” he growled into your cunt. Being edged for so long, you couldn't hold out for much longer, squirting all over his face. He blinked, clearly shocked from your juices spraying all over him. You were about to apologize when you saw Chuuya’s eyes darken, jaw clenching as he stared at you, “that was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen you do, fuck,” he groaned, going back to devouring you with double— if not triple the eagerness. “you’re gonna do that again. I’m not stopping until you soak the whole fuckin’ bed.”

ATSUSHI ⋆｡° ✮

Words couldn’t describe how fucking exhausted you were right now, your body aching from how long Atsushi had been drilling his cock into you. You were so overstimulated at this point, pussy swollen from the continuous abuse your boyfriend had been putting it through.

“shit— baby, you feel s’good, so tight for me—” Atsushi groaned, his claws digging into your hips, drawing slight blood as he got lost in the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock. He was practically foaming at the mouth, just as overstimulated as you were but showed absolutely no signs of stopping anytime soon. His cock was swollen and an angry shade of red, indicating just how sensitive he was but he still could not get enough of your sticky cunt, burying himself in you even though his dick was screaming at him to give it a rest. You weren’t any better either, brain completely fried from his cock driving in and out of you at a rapid pace, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit while you racked your pretty nails down his back. It was downright filthy. But the both of you were too out of it too care, losing yourselves in each other’s embrace. “cumming— oh god, fuck!” He panted, biting your shoulder to ground himself atleast a little bit.

It had been an hour since that, he was shooting blanks into your battered cunt at this point. Your eyes were barely open, close to passing out, your legs felt like jelly from how much they were trembling, nails now buried in the sheets as you sobbed, “ ‘sushi— ‘m too sensitive! can’t—” you gasped when he wrapped his lips around your nipple, whining, “jus’ one more time, pleasepleaseplease—” he shuddered before painting your insides white with his seed, arms wrapped around your half conscious figure as he savoured the blissful high. You almost fell asleep after a few minutes, eyes closing when Atsushi’s hips start moving again. You were about to speak when he cut you off, “shh, just one more, please?”

RANPO ⋆｡° ✮

"ranpo, I'm not gonna sit on your face," you huffed, crossing your arms. He pouted, "c'mon, sugar. it'd feel sooooo good." You sighed, deadpanning at him. "I'll share my snacks with you for a month if you—" "deal."

You chewed on your bottom lip as you hovered over Ranpo's face, "are you sure about this? I don't want to accidentally hurt y—" you gasped when he pulled down on his awaiting mouth, too impatient to let you finish your sentence or reassure you. His thumb pushed your panties to the side, revealing your pretty pussy to him. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, making you whimper. You tried to sit back up on your knees but he was holding you down tight, slim fingers digging into your hips. His greedy tongue swirled around your clit before flicking it. He moaned into your cunt when you ground down on his face, muttering out little curses and his name. His tongue moved down to your hole, pushing in while he brought his hand to your clit, fingers rubbing your clit in swift circles. You felt like you were on cloud nine, mouth watering at the pleasure your boyfriend was inflicting upon you. You reached back to cup his dick through his shorts, the fabric slightly damp with his precum. He gasped when you palmed him through them, pinching your clit lightly to get back at you. You yelped, grinding down harder on his eager face, feeling his cock twitch in your hand. He liked that. He scoffed, the sound muffled between your thighs. He greedily slurped on your juices, savouring your taste on his tongue and fuck, he could feel his eyes roll back behind closed lids. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten— so close to snapping. "yesyesyes— god, ranpo!" You squealed, gushing all over your lover's face. He let out a guttural noise, drinking all of your arousal up before finally lifting you up from his face. You could see his face completely soaked with your liquid, a lopsided grin on his face, "see? was that so bad?" You laughed, shaking your head, wondering why the actual fuck you hadn't tried it sooner.

SIGMA ⋆｡° ✮

You had Sigma tied up on your bed, pretty pink ribbons matching his pretty pink cock, leaking precum from the flushed tip. He was glaring at you, demanding to be untied immediately but you just smirked, having too much fun teasing your boyfriend like this.

"such a good boy, aren't you, sigma?" You slurred, eyes shutting in pleasure when he flicked his tongue on your clit, hard cock aching to be inside you. Your hand brushed through his bangs, making him look up at you, your slick covering the lower half of his handsome face. God, he was beautiful. He hummed against your leaking cunt, slobbering all over your heat. He wanted to pleasure you with everything he had, his tongue, fingers and cock but unfortunately for him, he was tied up. He wasn't too sure of the idea before but now? Now he was enthusiastically burying his face between your thighs, running his tongue up and down your pretty folds. You tasted like heaven to him, a little break from the hell he went through. Your moans and giggles of pleasure were music to his ears, making his face flush with each lewd noise you make. His brain felt foggy from your addicting taste, so sweet on his tongue as he lapped everything up, nose bumping against your clit. You'd think he was one getting head from how much pre his cock was leaking, he couldn't help but hump the mattress, growing downright addicted to your taste. Lavender and white locks of hair framing his face perfectly, your hand buried in it as he ate you up like his last meal on earth. He could feel your cunt clenching and unclenching on his tongue and he moaned, the sound borderline pornographic as his eyes rolled back. His face was flushed a shade of pink down to his neck. "god— you taste so—" he cut himself off with a groan, gasping when you cum all over his face, your head thrown back and exposing your neck as you moan his name. You looked down to see Sigma's face red, swollen lips coated in a layer of your shiny slick. He looked dazed, half lidded eyes looking at you with hunger, "more. n-need more," he panted, burying his face back into your sopping heat.

TETCHOU ⋆｡° ✮

You didn't know how you ended up like this, one moment you're training with your boyfriend and the next moment you're getting folded by him on the carpeted floor as he bullies his thick cock past your tight entrance.

You felt like you were in a daze, legs pushed up against your chest, mouth forming an 'o' shape as your eyes roll back into your skull. Tetchou's bangs were brushing against your forehead, sweat dripping down his muscular back as he rolled his hips into you. He could see and feel the way your cunt sucked him in, not letting him go. He placed open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbones, nibbling on the sensitive flesh. His fingers dug into the back of your thighs, leaving indented marks from how firm he was gripping them. "hah— takin' my cock s'well," he rasped before pressing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers while plowing into you. Your pussy was all swollen and sensitive from how long he'd been at this. His previous load was dripping down your ass, staining the carpet below. You felt so good— so tight and wet all for him, he felt like home in your cunt, hips smacking against your ass erratically while you milked his cock for all it's worth. You couldn't even think properly anymore, too fucked out to have any coherent thoughts but his cock. He could feel his mouth water at the sight of your teary eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out slightly as he fucked the brains out of you. He wasn't any better either, panting and gasping with each thrust, growling every time you clench down on his cock so deliciously. You put him in a trance, he wasn't thinking with his brain anymore, much too occupied by drilling his cock into your welcoming heat, fat tip kissing your cervix with each thrust, making a wet noise each time his hips met your ass.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

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[bi-writes]

I feel like now that MOB and Simon are comfy together and truly utterly unbelievably in love, they'd maybe wanna have a wedding. Not in the traditional, big church tons-of-guests way, but like in the dress up, say vows, and show off your love to your loved ones (no matter how few) way. Not cause they need it or cause they feel pressured, but just cause it's be sweet. A beautiful memory for them (and an excuse for MOB to see Simon in a suit and for Simon to see her in a wedding dress yknow?)

mail-order bride

you're nervous.

more nervous than you felt on the way to this house for the first time. sitting in the back of that taxi, one suitcase in the trunk and the cat in the seat beside you, even then, even knowing you were heading to meet a stranger, you did not feel this type of nervousness.

it's deep in your belly. a taut force that tangles your insides, and you try to hide the shake in your hands as you close the small book that holds your vows and pick up the small bouquet on the dresser.

they're daisies, from the garden. simon picked them for you this morning, had woken you up by tucking one of the stems behind your ear. you made sure to add a few to your hair before dressing.

the silk sits perfectly. that shop on the main street had kept your measurements, and when you asked if they could make you something a little more special, you could not have envisioned anything more beautiful.

structured bodice to hold you in, draped in silk that fell over every curve and every line like falling water, in an elegant white that made the sentiment of what today would be all too real.

he's leaning against the doorway to the backyard when you open the bedroom door. you're barefoot, quiet, so it takes him a minute before he notices you.

both of you pause at a reasonable distance when you finally get a good look at each other.

simon looks so handsome. he's all made-up in his dress uniform, a faded green jacket buttoned over slacks with a khaki shirt underneath, but it is tailored to perfect, and the belt around his waist makes him look all the more formal. what really has you swooning is the lovely medals on his chest--lined up in beautiful rows, glinting in the sunlight as he tips the beret he's wearing to eye you carefully.

"christ," simon murmurs, taking both his hands out of his pockets. he clears his throat, shifting in his boots, and he finally holds a hand out for you, beckoning you forward. "wot a bloody sight y'are, luv."

you pad forward, smiling, and when your hand fits in his, you both squeeze, staring at one another with grins that won't fade. he leans forward to pressing his face to yours before making his way outside with you.

there's a seat under the tree, with a small table beside it. there's flowers everywhere, petals across the grass, and you follow simon under the shade as he takes a seat, guiding you into his lap so you both can sit there for a moment.

it's quiet. there's a light breeze making the leaves fall, but the sun is peeking through the clouds, and you can see the cats in the window, staring at you both as they chew between nips of cat grass. you set down your bouquet on the table beside you, settling in simon's lap as you hold the notebook to your chest.

"can...can i go first?" you ask, and simon reaches up to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. he nods, adjusting you in his lap, and you try not to focus too hard on how much your hands shake as you flip open the little book you're holding.

the first few pages are your first few drafts, scribbled out with messy pen strokes. you settle where your real words begin, somewhere in the middle, jumbled between messy handwriting since you spent so long perfecting it all.

"simon," you start gently, and you relax a little when you feel his hand settle on your lower back, soothing you gently as he listens. "i had no idea what i was getting myself into all that time ago. my entire life, it's felt like...i've felt like i've just been running. running from the things i've always been afraid of. from people that i didn't trust. from the things that have happened and the things i thought might happen. in fact...i felt like if i didn't keep running, something terrible would catch up to me."

one of your hand falls, and simon covers it with his own. the shaking settles, and you continue.

"and then i came here," you whisper. "i-i..." you swallow. "i-i came here, and i ran right into you." you notice a few wet spots on the pages, and you steady your breaths, trying not to focus too much on the wetness you feel along your cheeks. "a-and you caught me."

you look over at him, and he's smiling, dark eyes trained on your clasped hands in your lap. he squeezes, bringing your hand up to his mouth, and you have the courage to keep going when you feel him kiss your knuckles.

"i don't know how we found each other. i-i don't know who knew that this house was mine. i don't know who understood that there was an empty place inside that belonged to me, but i'm here now. a-and i'm not...i'm not going anywhere."

you bend, leaning forward, and you press your forehead to his temple.

"no one has ever loved me the way you do, simon riley. and i-i promise i will try until forever t-to do the same for you."

it hurts. there's a place in simon's chest that physically aches, like a tender wound, squeezing against his ribs as he hugs you close to his body. the time with you is precious. he fears the moment he knows that there is not much left, but that time isn't now, and he cherishes that fact.

he has always carried a sense for those kind of things. he can tell when there is little left, like knowing there is nothing more to drink in canister without shaking it. it's a feeling, one he knows well, but he doesn't feel that with you, not yet, and he will consume every breath he can that he shares with you until then (because when he feels the time waning, he will give you every breath of his that remains if it means you get just one more second of this life).

simon reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small paper. he unfolds it gently, still holding you close, and you cling to the lapels of his jacket as he talks to you in that low, soothing voice of his.

"'m not sure where t'start," simon chuckles. "was hard for me to think of wot t'say t'ya." he takes a small breath before kissing your forehead. "'s hard ta think about wot it was like before i had ya 'ere. only eatin' because i had to. only leavin' the house because the job demanded it of me. like the whole world was a terrible fuckin' grey. so fuckin' quiet, i could hear this nasty ringin' in my ears."

simon crumples the paper a little, and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck to anchor him.

"honest...i thought the job would 'ave me. tha' i'd go out in some reckless sort of way, or maybe i'd just...let it take me with it one day. and when i knew y'were comin', i still thought tha' was how it would be. tha' i'd settle in it alone, on my own, like i always 'ave."

you close your eyes, and you can hear nothing besides his voice.

"thought i'd run outta luck. thought crawlin' out of my fuckin' grave was the last thing that they'd ever give me," he mutters, and you suck in a shaky breath when you hear the paper crumple sharply. "i don't know wot i ever did to deserve someone like you, luv. 'm not good. never 'ave been. the things i've done, wot i've seen, i wasn't meant for good things."

you pull back a little and open your eyes, and simon's own are full of pain. he grips your waist a little firmly, digging his fingers into you there.

"'n ya aren't just good. y'r perfect. like y'were made in my dreams. and still y'r 'ere, and ya haven't left, and..." he swallows. "nothing else matters, swee'eart." his eyes meet yours. big, brown ones, sadness so permeable, striking, an unnerving kind. "family is oll that matters." when your foreheads touch again, you can't stop yourself. his voice is low, gravelly, weighed down by some kind of pain that you'll never understand. simon has pieces of himself that are missing. people from a past life that he tries to keep finding, things that he knows should be here, but will forever disappoint him by no longer being real.

when he puts his hand over your heart, you can't see him anymore, not really. your tears blur your vision.

"y'r all that matters."

when you cut the cake in the kitchen, you feed each other small bites of decadent chocolate, and when you finish, you gift each other the vows you've written, to tuck away somewhere special, to read when the world gets too loud or when the colors of life get washed out by meaningless distractions.

the dance in the kitchen has lasted for minutes or hours, you can't remember. the music is soft, and you're swaying, but time is meaningless when you're looking into simon's eyes.

it is a part of him that will never change. you memorize how they look, because you want to recognize them in every place that you see them. you want to remember them everywhere, now, soon, until time rots the plants above the sink and kills the vegetables in your garden and makes threadbare the kitchen towels on the counter--you want to remember them.

so you can find him in this life, and every other one that comes after.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

[moondirti]

there’s something so erotic about a man who grabs your jaw when you keep avoiding his gaze so he can force your eyes on his

featuring: SOAP, afab reader, oral, spitting, mild dubcon (i.e. boundary crossing)

soap has always been intense. a bullet shot off in a steel room, bound to ricochet until it makes contact with something that can absorb its impact. you're in the right place at the right time: a bar, the gym he frequents, perhaps even a football game he'd been anticipating for weeks. it doesn't really matter what context he first spots you in – all that energy, that orderless enthusiasm he seems to prescribe to everything, sharpens to focus solely on you. bonnie wee thing that keeps sliding him wily looks, instilling in him a mission he knows he won't back down from.

at first it's how to approach you. easy enough; you like him too, that much he can tell. so when you eventually agree to a farmers market date (where he intends to spoil you rotten with food from every stall), it becomes about opening you up. figuratively at first, you have a hard time keeping up with him without getting overwhelmed. startled at how forthcoming he is, stunned at the manner in which he treats you. like he's known you for years, a childhood best friend you only met last tuesday. he calls right after your first date, asks you to accompany him for coffee before his morning run. shows up at your door unannounced, carrying tools to fix the fan you briefly complained wasn't working. is bold enough to sneak his hand on your thigh while you're watching a movie later that evening, gradually moving higher as your breath begins to falter.

he spares no effort once things get sexual, either. if you expect him to go easy for your first time, you'll come to sorely regret the mistake. quick to slip out of his too-tight shirt, even quicker to spread your legs out on your couch. manages to get your joggers off but opts to merely shift your panties to the side, fingers hooked in the thin material (which he will pocket later). when he envelops your entire cunt with his mouth, his tongue digs into every fold, every hole if it means he can swallow down the smallest part of you.

taste s’good hen, bloody mad wae it

only you’re not looking at him. instead, you’ve thrown your head back, too lost in the pleasure to pay attention to the show he’s putting on for you. why exactly, he's not sure. he’s being good, isn’t he? giving you everything you need? his heart races a mile per minute and something needy, something dark twists within him. he laves his tongue over your hole once more, collecting the juices that pour for him and gathering it behind his teeth alongside a hefty glob of saliva.

when he moves up your body, he tucks your chin in his palm, pulling your head down to face him.

it's too much. too much. he doesn't seem to realise it, but you're breathing is still inconsistent and shallow, and you're about to cry from overstimulation. now he's forcing eye contact, nose kissing yours, and pressing down on either side of your jaw so you're forced to open your mouth wide. you know what's coming, see it from the way his cheeks move. it's all you can do to brace yourself for the inevitable, unable to voice your aversion to the kink. fisting your hands, tensing your throat. but it's as you close your eyes that his self-restraint snaps.

so, he spits. it's thick and messy and heady with the smell of your sex. he doesn't even aim it properly. a significant amount of it lands on your lip, some even on your nose. your tongue gets the brunt of it though, the new weight of fluid causing you to gag. yet his pupils are blown so wide they're barely blue anymore, a cerulean ring around bottomless black, fixated on the sloppy state of your mouth, and it's hard to deny him anything that boils him down to such a state. like a puppy. over-eager and exhilarated when you indulge him so.

you never learn to like it, though it becomes a routine thing.

[bbokicidal]

Not A Want, But A Need - Perv!SKZ

A small series of Perv!SKZ Headcanons

Pairing: OT8 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual behavior (MDNI), Perverted behavior (obviously), panty stealing, up the skirt pics, one-sided masturbation, meandom!Seungmin (oops)

Chris :

Chris likes to consider himself a gentleman. He's respectful, responsible, kind to women and men alike - treats everyone with polite gestures -

But he really can't hold himself back when you wear that little pink dress that hugs your ass so right.

He swears he'll delete them later but he never does, taking quick pictures up the skirt of your dress when he stands behind you in the elevator.

You know why he never deletes them? Because he uses them as soon as he gets home - sometimes in the company bathroom if he really can't wait that long. Tugging his cock and whimpering as he bites down on the fabric of his shirt, staring through lidded eyes at the picture of your lacy black panties.

God, he's obsessed.

Minho :

He's going to have you sitting in his lap as often as possible. You're one of his best friends - who started as a backup dancer for the group - and he knows nobody finds it too suspicious that he has you in his lap often.

The worst they can think is that he's romantically interested in you - which, maybe he is.

But he really just wants you there so he can feel the way your ass pushes down against his cock in his sweats. He's in love with the feeling and if you move just right his head will roll back and his eyes will roll with them, slipping shut at the pushing right up against his length.

After he figures out just how much he likes having you in his lap, he'll keep his hands on your hips often as well. Even when just standing next to you - maybe one occasion letting his hand drag over your ass on 'accident.'

Changbin :

There's little shame on his part.

He loves to stare at your tits.

He starts inviting you to the gym just so he can see how they bulge in your sports bra and push at the seams, the soft skin bubbling and making him want to touch so badly. And maybe he does on occasion, letting his hands brush the underside of your chest while you're doing box squats.

He swears he's just helping you with your form - you need to arch your back a little more. Push your chest into his waiting hands. Please. For him?

Hyunjin :

He's very sly with it.

He's so, so very sly with the way he steals your panties.

That precious white pair with the cherries on them were the first he knew he needed to have, shoving them into his pocket after you'd gone to the bathroom and given him at least three minutes of free time to roam around your room.

The lace pair he saw a peek of when you sat down at a party once were next.

And he won't return them. Not when they're covered in his cum and he'd feel dirty giving them back to you that way.

And washing them would get rid of your scent. So... He'll just keep them.

Jisung :

He's the only member who's a bit shy about his actions.

He feels wrong about it but he needs it so badly.

He just loves your hands so much. Touch him a little more, yeah?

He'll do things like sit too close so your hands will brush his thigh when you talk and move them around - or stand up abruptly beside you so that your hand will bump his hips.

Or he'll just straight up hold your hands whenever he can, refusing to let go until they're down near his hips and your knuckles brush his zipper as he drops his hold on you. It's always subtle - but definitely there.

Oh, and of course later he'll picture your pretty hands jerking him off instead of his own. He's embarrassed about it but he'll look at photos he's got of you two together as well - zooming in on your rings and bracelets to better picture how you'd look between his thighs and holding onto him.

Felix :

The most cocky mf.

He's the type to rest his hand on your thigh as much as he possibly can. At first it's gentle rubbing of his thumb or a brush of his knuckles here and there,

But then it's him squeezing the supple skin under his ringed fingers as he chats with you or others. His actions are all but second nature now, but he's definitely chubbing up in his jeans just at the feeling of your thighs under his palms.

If he's feeling real bold (or a little tipsy), he'll slap your thighs or maybe - if you're really lucky - bite them to leave little teeth marks.

He'd do anything to have them pressed around his head while he eats you out, but he knows right now it's only a dream. So instead he'll just keep his subtle touches and rubs going until that day comes.

Seungmin :

So sly about it but also extremely bold and straightforward.

He passes it off as playful fighting.

The type to slap - Yes, I said slap. - your tits and ass whenever you pass by him or are bugging him. He's use to you slapping his arms or chest and laughing in annoyance at his antics, so he thought he could get away with doing the same to you. And he was right.

It's perceived as play fighting and just two best friends fucking around with each other - but he's secretly getting so hard it hurts in his jeans at the way your tits and ass jiggle when he hits them.

On a couple occasions he's taken sneaky videos of him slapping your ass while you walk together so he had it for later use.

And of course there were the few select times he full on spanked you while the two of you were bickering.

Jeongin :

Shy about it - but if he's all dressed up or just performed or the likes - he's a looooot more bold.

Jeongin won't admit it out loud, but he likes your lips. A lot.

He has so many pictures of the two of you together just because he loves the way you purse your lips all cute-like.

And he's grown a habit of touching them, too. Wiping sauce off of them when you eat meals together, brushing off crumbs or even just shushing you with his index against your bottom lip so you hush up all pretty. (And he loves seeing you obey.)

And he'll never forget the time he was drinking with you and when he shushed you, you took his finger into your mouth to suck over it. He'll cherish that memory forever - the way his cock tented in his sweats and he had to go to the restroom to jerk off so hard it hurt. He's never come so fast in his life.

[luveline]

gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing

thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k

Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated. 

You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong. 

"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?" 

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks. 

Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach. 

"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong." 

"I'm just trying to figure something out." 

This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance. 

You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein. 

He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?" 

That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop. 

"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something. 

"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself." 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention." 

He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights. 

Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done? 

You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time. 

I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again. 

You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears. 

This is all so messy, and it's your fault. 

I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me. 

You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid. 

—

The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help. 

"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?" 

He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go." 

He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention. 

Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up. 

He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell. 

Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you. 

"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it." 

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry." 

Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel. 

Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug. 

He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes  

He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon. 

His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset " 

"I'm an idiot–" 

"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"

"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–" 

"I shouldn't have–" 

"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away. 

Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up." 

He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into? 

"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me." 

Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says. 

"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile. 

"It's not okay." 

"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even." 

"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked." 

"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?" 

"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back." 

You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better." 

"I know." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you." 

What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful. 

"Does it look really bad?" 

"N–no. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Are my eyes puffy?"

A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already." 

"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to." 

Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid." 

"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask. 

Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not." 

You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure." 

"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."

"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want." 

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks. 

You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it. 

"That feels nice," you mumble. 

He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?" 

"Don't," you warn. 

He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?" 

"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it. 

"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry." 

Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.