#let the broken things lay to rest

[a-b-riddle]

cw: mentions of torture. Hurt/comfort. Wound aftercare. A lil bit of Kate Laswell OOC behavior. I don’t hate her I promise. It’s just for the plot of how out of character these men are acting.

Part two

I love the “reader is believed to be a traitor, but isn’t trope”. But what if there was a bit of a twist?

Price doesn’t wait for Laswell. When he hears that one of his own has been taken in for treason, he makes a fucking bee line to your cell with the rest of the 141 in tow.

They had been out on a mission when the news dropped about their favorite comms girl had betrayed them.

The couldn’t believe it.

They didn’t.

Which was why Price had laid his hands on a woman for the first time. Grabbing Kate by her shirt, demanding to know where the fuck the Shadows had kept you. The most heinous thing you did on the job is read those spicy little porn books that the boys loved teasing you about. But giving off classified information you didn’t even have access to? Price didn’t hold back as he called Kate every name in the book for her stupidity in trusting fucking Shepherd of all leads. Price telling himself this would he would never trust Kate again in allowing this to happen.

Which was why Kyle cool, calm and collected had acted brash and held a gun to the MP who was taking too long to hand over the keys to unlock your cuffs that kept you dangling from the ceiling. When John was still riding the adrenaline high from dealing with Kate, Kyle had taken the initiative to handle the situation. He knew you wouldn’t be the one to get the justice you deserve. Kyle was determined to everything in his power to do just that.

Which was why Simon had carried your broken body out of the room and into his own barracks. Laying you gently on the bed. Slipping out on going to the med bay, not trusting anyone else on this damn base to take care of what belongs to them. Offering you words of comfort as you cried in his arms. “Shhhh. It’s okay. We’ve got you. Not letting them take you from me again, Lovie. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Which is why Johnny had gently cleaned your wounds. Resting on his knees as he took care of the deep cuts on your feet and the slash on the back of your ankle. A punishment for trying to run away. A sliced ACL to ensure you wouldn’t try it again. Johnny had kept his anger at bay while taking care of you. Eventually getting your physical wounds managed before working on the rest. Johnny who crawls into the bed with you. Holding you close and letting you cry into his chest as he he rubs your back.

They couldn’t believe their comms operator would be capable of betraying them. Even if you did, they would get their pound of flesh a different way.

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 12 - cockwarming dick grayson x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cockwarming, praise/degradation

"Ah, ah, ah. No moving, baby. That was the deal, remember?" your boyfriend coos from behind you.

Your velvety walls flutter around him, all your other muscles going taut with frustration. Tilting your head back, a whimper echoes from you.

Right now, he was really living up to his name.

"Pleaseeeee, Dick," you whine. A pout forms on your lips even though he wouldn't be able to see it from this angle.

"No," he laughs and pats your ass, "You said this would be enough for you. That you didn't need strenuous activity to feel good."

He was laying in bed, as the doctor (Alfred) had ordered. A pile of plush pillows pile behind him, keeping his bruised face elevated. More cuts and scrapes littered his chest and abs and mark up those beautiful muscles with remnants of the pain he'd endured. You sat on his lap facing away from him, his cock buried inside you.

Last week, he had a pretty rough night. On patrol, some guys got the jump on him, had some weapons he'd never encountered or something like that. It was hard to understand the story with the way he'd mumbled it out when he came home barely conscious. The state he was in scared the life out of you. You called Alfred in tears, sobbing into the phone about how you thought Dick was gonna die on the floor of your kitchen.

As it turned out, he was fine. Totally fine by now, which was why you felt comfortable rubbing up on him and snaking your hand down south to the waistband of his loose sweatpants. It had been over a week since Alfred told him to get some rest, and he had no real injuries. He just loved to tease you, so he insisted sex was still beyond the limitations of his current physical capabilities.

He made you BEG to even sit here with him inside you. You hoped that would convince him to take it easy on you for the rest of this, but clearly, you'd overestimated your boyfriend's compassion.

"Why? You don't even have to move," you plead.

You don't have to see his face to know the gleam of amusement his eyes hold and the smirk that spreads over his lips.

"Sure, sure. Cause you never get tired halfway through being on top and start whining for me to take over," he mocks, "I know that'd be the next thing you ask for."

"I won't," you defend, "Please just let me move... I need it."

You look over your shoulder now and catch sight of the stupid look you'd envisioned in your head. Those pretty blue eyes gaze up at you, his ego clear in each cerulean fleck. His hands below knead the soft muscles of your ass. They dig into the flesh and rub at your thighs too. The touches send tingles straight to the pit of your belly, more arousal leaking from you in response.

"I don't know... It's bad enough you're not letting me rest properly, but now this? Seems like you're asking for a lot," he goads.

Anguish plumes in your chest. You nearly topple forward and smoosh your face into the blankets, the urge to kick and pound your fists on the bed insurmountable. Instead, your hands clasp around his meaty thighs. You squeeze as if that could give you the will to remain motionless. If you moved before he gave you permission, you weren't sure you'd see another orgasm this year.

"Dick, come on," you beg, head hanging, "Why do you hate me?"

That gets a hearty laugh out of him. His palms smooth up your sides to hold your waist.

"Don't try to guilt trip me, babe. You're not very good at it," he says. The pads of his fingertips massage your curves in tiny strokes. "You can wait a little longer."

"You've already made me wait so long. It hurts," you plead. If guilt wouldn't work, maybe sympathy will.

"Oh, does it? I think that's just your pride, sweetheart. You're acting so pathetic for me right now," he teases.

You didn't know what to try next. More broken cries tumble from your lips. In truth, waiting didn't hurt, but it was growing uncomfortable. The slick between your legs was sticky, and you wanted to get away from it by bouncing up and down. His length had been sitting inside you for so long it felt like a word you'd said too many times. The only way to forget about it would be to fuck yourself silly on top of him.

But he stays true to his word. He makes you wait. You sit on top of him for you don't even know how long. Occasionally, he shifts his hips, acting as if he just needs to get comfortable; the motion strikes one of your pleasure spots every time though.

You bite your lip, trying to not lose it. If this continued at this rate, you'd be in tears soon, which you really wanted to avoid as they would only make him more merciless.

Regardless of your wishes though, you can feel them starting to bloom in your eyes. Frustration burns like fire in your lungs. You turn your head to look at him again, wanting to try one more time to reason before you fully break down.

That plan goes out the window though when you see this man on his phone. He lounges there, scrolling through whatever without a care in the world.

"Dick!" you cry, a couple tears spilling over your water line.

His eyes flit up to your face just as your arm swings back to swat him. He catches your wrist, amusement pulling at his lips.

"Swinging at me when I'm wounded?" he mocks.

He softens the smallest bit when he sees the tears, bringing his hand up to swipe them away with his thumb. You sniffle at the gesture. Your lip wobbles with the desire to unleash more humiliating noises.

"What're the tears for, pretty girl? You really wanna move that bad?" he croons, dragging the bow of his index finger down your jawline.

You nod, eyes casting down in shame.

Knowing laughter bubbles up from his lips. His finger tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Let me hear you ask nicely one more time," he says.

You almost crumble on top of him right then, but you can't lose it when you're so close. With a deep inhale, you suck it up and bat your eyes a few times.

"Please?"

He grins at you and taps your hip. "Turn around for me and then go ahead."

Eager as can be, you clamber around and situate yourself so that you're facing him. Your legs quiver. It felt unusual to move after being full and seated for a while. When you're settled, plush thighs pressed against his sculpted sides, you plant your hands on his chest.

You don't waste time before rising up and sinking back down. A strangled moan falls from your lips at the relief. Some of the tension that had webbed up in the pit of your belly begins to loosen as you bounce.

His hands land on your hips, guiding your movements into a steady rhythm. You can tell he's enjoying it too from how he sighs and the way his jaw clenches.

"That's it. Worth the wait?" he asks.

"Mhm," you whimper.

Your ass smacks against his pelvis over and over. The sound of skin on skin fills the bedroom along with your combined grunting and moaning. You roll your hips, getting him as deep as possible. Your spine arches in tandem with your head falling back.

He takes advantage of the view you're giving him, one of his hands rising to grope at your breast. His fingers cradle the mound as the rest of you continues rutting on top of him. He flicks your nipple with his thumb, tearing more mewls from your lips with the bursts of sensation.

"Look at you, going dumb already. You're that needy for me?" he mocks, giving your stiffened bud a little pinch.

You yelp and nod, not bothering to defend yourself.

Your noises increase in volume as you continue to ride. Breathing likens into panting while shudders overcome your body. All of you convulses with each jump of your hips. It's getting harder to keep the pace, but you don't want to admit that. You don't want to prove him right.

It doesn't matter if you want that though because he can tell. He can see your motions getting jerkier. He feels the way your walls tighten around him with abandon.

To try and help you a little, he digs his heels into the mattress and thrusts up. Happy moans echo from you, your lips widening into a smile. He can't help but match the expression. This was his favorite sight in the world, his pretty girl blissed out. Nothing on your mind but him.

Without waiting for you to say the word, he boosts you up and flips you onto your back on the mattress. He springs to his feet beside the bed. Pulling you by your hips, your pelvises meet at the edge, and he takes over thrusting.

His fingers press into your inner thighs as he maintains his grip. He plows into you faster than you had been going on top. Leaning forward, he bends you in half. Your thighs press against your chest. His body heat oozes all over you.

This position lets him slide deeper inside you than before. Each rock of his hips nudges his tip against a spot that makes you cry out. You would be seeing stars if not for the fact that your eyes are rolling back.

"So fucking greedy," he croons, "Always wanting more than you can take."

You whine in protest, hips weakly squirming under the weight of him. Blinking yourself back into focus, you try to conjure words to argue that you could take it. That he's the one who flipped you over.

But all you can muster is a pouty "You're so mean to me."

He laughs in your face before smacking a kiss on your quivering frown. "You love it. Being nice doesn't ever get you so wet," he mocks.

You can't help the way your cunt clenches around him at that, sucking him in further. He hisses in response and presses down on your legs harder. He's as far in you as can be now. Every thrust fills you up just how you like.

"Mhm, there you go. Nice and tight for me, baby," he teases. One of his arms wraps around your leg to thumb at your clit. You squeal at the fiery sensation and writhe against the blankets so much you may get friction burn.

He chuckles and continues speaking. "I'm only mean cause I have to be. If I let you have it your way, I don't think you'd ever get anything done. You're such a little slut. You want my cock all. the. time," he says, punctuating the last three words with particularly brutal thrusts.

Crying out, you nod. You just agree with what he's saying, not really taking in a word of it. As long as he didn't stop, you were content.

He continues slamming himself against you. The bed creaks from his rapid pace.

Your mouth hangs open at this point. Unfiltered sounds come out while he grits his teeth above you. His thumb keeps swirling over your sensitive little bundle of nerves all the while, dragging you closer to the edge.

"Dick!" you wail.

The hand on your clit leaves and clamps over your mouth instead. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breaths fanning over your face.

"If you get us a noise complaint, you're gonna get used to just sitting on my cock," he says, "I won't go easy on you next time. You can cry all you want to, and it won't change a thing."

Your eyes flutter with lust. He could be so annoying, but fuck, you loved it. You knew Dick wasn't one for idle threats either. He'd have you sit on his lap all full and fidgety for hours if he wanted.

The image is all you need to spur you to the finish line. Your hips buck up against his, shaking violently as they seek out more pleasure.

He feels the way you tighten and release, massaging his shaft and beckoning him to do the same. A few thrusts later he gives in to the temptation. He drains himself inside you. Rope after rope of hot, sticky cum floods into your cunt. His head drops against your neck, silky black locks damp with sweat against your skin.

Both of you finish out with a few more lazy movements. In the afterglow of your passion, he lingers on top of you for a few more moments. His body remains dead weight, melted against your own.

When he finally finds the will to move, he kisses a trail from your shoulder up to your lips. The tender exchange makes the feel of him pulling out more bearable. Maybe he was right, maybe you are a little greedy. You'd just had him for all that time, but you still didn't want it to be over.

Either way, he flops down next to you. The teasing is gone from his eyes for now. His pupils hold a genuine look of adoration similar to the feeling in your chest. It's only a brief eclipse though because his mocking returns as he leans in to nip at your cheek.

"I think you cured me, babe. I'm feeling much better now," he says with his usual cocky smile.

[enchantedlov3r]

This has been on my mind all day thanks to this moodboard. by @bambiwrites

warnings: spitting, smut, strap on sex, tribbing, oral(r receiving), dom!ellie, sub!reader! enjoy cuz this was very slutty.

just thinking about officer!ellie williams coming home to you after a rough and long day of dealing with crazy people, from crazy coked-out addicts to extreme chases to even dealing with a robbery.

thinking of her just coming up the stairs seeing you laying in your shared bedroom and seeing your pretty eyes staring at the tv while playing with your wedding ring.

you turn to her when you see her leaning against the door and you smile at her greeting her with sweet words and asking her about her day.

"hi baby! how was your day? not too stressful I hope?" you say as she makes her way to the bed disbanding her belt and taking off her vest leaving her in just her uniform, shoes long gone.

"it was more than just fucking stressful mama, it was exhausting and just a pure damn nightmare." ellie expresses to you as she scoots closer to you laying on top of you and spreading your legs to slot herself and rest her head on your stomach.

you frown at her words and run your fingers through her hair. pretty auburn locks furrowed and frizzy. slightly wet from the heat most likely being sweat.

"oh love, I'm so sorry. anything I can do to help you? want a massage?" you ask trying to lighten her mood and make her feel better.

that's when as if in a cartoon, a light bulb pops up over her pretty head. she needed those words to come put of your mouth.

she had just the perfect thing. "yea baby, you just lie back and let me release my stress on you yea?" she asks.

you smile and lay down as you watch her slide further and further down pushing the covers back so you can see her face as she pulls down your pajama shorts.

boy were you not prepared for what she was going to do next...

"oh f-fuck ellie, t-too much, I can't take it, please ellie omg r-right there-fuck!" you cry out feeling your third orgasm come to light for the night.

and what's not surprising is that you've cum three times just from ellie's tongue alone with the rare featuring of her fingers inside you.

but boy you definitely were not ready for the overstimulation and the number of times ellie made you cum, you lost count after the first four.

then came out the strap and when ever that thing was brought out, it meant you wouldn't be able to fucking walk afterwards.

you cry and scream out not even fearful of getting caught or complaints from your neighbors.

the whole neighborhood knows ellie's name by now. hearing ellie's grunts and moans and dirty fucking words as she rams into you abusing your pretty pussy like a fucking bull.

the feeling of her silicone cock deep inside you hitting spots inside you that no one could ever hit like ellie.

the feeling of ellie's wet pussy against yours as she grabs and massages your breasts, spitting and licking your perked up nipples.

ellie getting all messy, letting saliva drip from her tongue lading between your pussy lips as she rubs her wetness against you making you moan out her name in a broken way.

your voice horse and raspy from screaming all night. ellie's eyes rolling to the back of her head, thoughts and stress completely gone.

the stamina ellie had on her was a little concerning but hey! you never questioned it, especially when she was making you feel this good, scream this loud, and make you the happiest woman alive.

ellie now finally out of the stress and lust-filled haze she was in, takes you both to the shower and gets you cleaned up and then you both head back to bed to have to get up for work all over again.

Taglist: : @ribbonprincess @r3starttt @dollyfl1rt @raynesbandaids @quiet-villian @dustbunniess @r3starttt + anyone else who wants to join!

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!

©enchantedlov3r| All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[kingkatsuki]

— come

Toge was always so careful and meticulous about using his cursed speech, not wanting to impact himself or his friends. But when you’re out getting drunk in an attempt to forget your asshole of an ex-boyfriend, and he’s trying to get you home a certain word slips out and it doesn’t quite have the intended effect.

Thanks to the cum/come discourse for sparking this idea.

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dubious consent (to be safe— Toge uses his cursed speech on reader without consent but she likes it), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public setting, unestablished relationship, intoxication.

Word Count: 3k.

You didn’t expect your weekend to end like this. Saturday evening you’d been happily planning a holiday with your boyfriend, and then by Sunday morning, you’d broken up. His speech had started with an “it’s not you, it’s me” before you’d ended up throwing him out of your house and calling your best friend Maki. 

And that’s how you’d found yourself in some shitty bar in a rough part of town on a fucking Sunday evening as you throw back drinks to try to numb the pain. It was surprisingly busy inside the dingy bar, and you were just glad it wasn’t one of the band nights they seemingly had each weekend if the obnoxious posters splashed all over the walls were anything to go by. The loud music pounding through the speakers was enough to set the vibe without being so overbearing that it vibrated through to your skull. 

Being with your friends arguably made things worse as you glanced across the table at Maki and Nobara who were so clearly in love— why couldn’t you have something like that? 

Lamenting softly you eyed your empty glass before honing in on the warm dregs for Yuuta’s fruity cocktail. Watered down by melting ice as you slurped the rest of it back through his straw, left making an irritating noise as you tried to get every last drop of alcohol from the bottom of the glass. 

“Yeah, I think you got it all.” Megumi groaned in irritation as he took the hurricane glass out of your grasp, placing it back in front of Yuuta as he rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get another one.” You huffed, tapping his thigh to let you out of the booth as he moved to stand. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Megumi countered but did not attempt to stop you as you approached the bar. Clumsily weaving through the other patrons who loitered around the area with drinks in hand, as you narrowly missed walking into a guy holding two beers. 

Toge watched you closely as you made a beeline for the bar. He was just happy to be here with you at first, nursing his beer as condensation began to ripple down the bottle as the liquid built to room temperature. The blunt nail on his thumb scratched at the damp silver Asahi label as he languidly peeled it from the bottle. His eyes focused on you as you leaned over the bar to order another round of shots, your skirt raised just enough that he could probably get a peek of the panties you were wearing tonight — not that he hadn’t accidentally snuck a glimpse when you’d crossed your legs on the train into the city earlier (pink, they were pink) — but this meant if he could see your panties now so could any other pervert in this dingy dive bar. 

Fuck. 

“Toge?” Yuuji calls, “Where are you going?” 

Toge waves him off as he moves on instinct. Abandoning his long-forgotten beer as he navigates himself through the crowd towards you, violet eyes glancing at a man who was clearly checking you out as his brows creased into a frown. Deliberately coming to stand behind you to hide your ass from the perverts in the room as he lays a gentle hand on the small of your back. 

It’s the way your eyes light up when you see him that has his heart thunderous in his chest, so loud he thinks you could probably hear it over the abrasive drum and bass track that was currently playing. 

“Toge!” You turn to greet him, as though you weren’t just sitting beside him in the booth moments earlier. 

“Takana?” He looked at you with concerned eyes as your smile faltered. 

You’d definitely had too much to drink.

“But I don’t wanna leave yet, Toge.” You pouted at his question, your arms immediately curled around his shoulders as he had to take a step back to prevent his increasingly evident bulge from pressing against your front, “And I just ordered us more shots!”

“Okaka.“ Toge frowned, already certain you wouldn’t be able to stand if you had much more. 

“Don’t be like that,” You pouted, “You said you were gonna come out with me tonight to make me forget him, but you haven’t even danced with me.”

If you’d thought Toge had any inclination to dance with you, you should’ve been sorely mistaken. But the thought of you going anywhere without him dressed like this had a rage burning in his chest as he thought about anyone else laying even just a finger on you. 

“Sujiko.” He motioned to leave, his warm palm splayed against your hip as his fingers pressed into you. Feeling the plush of your body dip beneath his hand as his thoughts ran rampant, thinking about how pretty you’d look beneath him while he palmed every curve. 

“You’re no fun,” You furrowed your brows, and your bottom lip jutted out so adorably that he had to physically restrain himself from leaning forward to kiss you. For the first time, he wished that his cursed speech worked on the user because he’d shout a resounding “Don’t do it!” just to get himself to stop. 

“Okaka.” He repeated, thankful you could barely see his face beneath his mask as a pastel pink dusted his cheeks. Toge never wanted you to think he was boring, the banter you’d managed to maintain even though you were dating a less favourable guy kept him close to you despite your relationship. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pleased that you’d finally broken up, even if it meant you were hurting now. 

“Oh, yeah— you are fun?” You teased. Toge could see the cogs in your head working as you motioned back to the bar, “Then do a shot with me.”

Toge sighed beneath his mask as he kept one of his arms poised around your waist in a subtle sign of possession as he came to stand beside you at the bar. Glaring at the bright blue liqueur that’s sat in a rather large-looking shot glass— just thankful it wasn’t whiskey again. 

He didn’t enjoy letting alcohol get the best of him, especially with his cursed speech. It lowered his inhibitions and made him more susceptible to talking, which could be a danger in itself. Texting someone to “go die” playfully during a game or banter was one thing, but actually saying it when he’s shitfaced would have dire consequences.

“Shake shake,” Toge replied. 

The delighted squeal you let out at his answer as he moved his arm from its position to pull his collar down made his lips curl into a smile as he reached out for the glass. Holding it gently as he waited for you to do the same as you leaned your body weight against him, your perfume invading his senses as he tried to remember to breathe. 

God, you’re so tipsy. 

“Three, two, one—” You practically sing as you throw the shot back. 

Toge mimics your movements, not expecting the shot to burn as much as it does as it travels down his throat. Tempted to pull out his cough medicine to try and alleviate the tension, but it’s quickly forgotten when he watches your reaction. Your face is scrunched up adorably in disgust as you stick your tongue out, slamming the glass back down on the bar as you make a cute sound of repulsion. 

“I thought it would taste nice because it’s blue,” You whine, “That was even worse than the last one— let me get us something else.”

Your words are slurred as you move to lean back over the bar, trying to get the barman’s attention as Toge tries to pull you back. 

“Okaka.” He shakes his head, moving his hand from around your waist in favour of wagging a finger in front of you. 

He wants to shout at you, remind you that you promised you’d leave after this, but he doesn’t. Pulling his mask back up around his lips to avoid temptation as he tries to move you away from the bar. 

“Tuna tuna.” He presses, as you move back to lean against him. Your arms back around his shoulders as you sway from side to side. 

“But I don’t wanna go yet, Toge,” You pout, “It’s still so early.” 

Toge ignores your statement as he manages to walk you far enough from the bar that you’re not in danger of ordering more shots. The guy behind the bar was giving you far more attention than necessary and he’s certain he would’ve left the bottle if you’d given him the option. 

“Tuna.” He murmurs as you pull his mask down to stare up at his face. Giving him the same childish pout as he mirrored your actions with a pout of his own, showing off his curse marks as you resist the urge to stroke them.

“You go home Toge, but I wanna stay,” You huff, you throw your head back childishly and Toge has to tighten his grip on your waist to prevent you from falling backwards, “Yuuji will take me home.”

Toge was smart enough to know that Yuuji would be completely incapable of getting you home after the sheer number of two-for-one strawberry daiquiris he’d consumed tonight as he gave you a deadpan look. 

“Shake shake.” He replied sarcastically, his voice oozing with ridicule. Keeping his grip on your hip as he tried to move you to leave but you kept your feet planted in place. 

“Come on, just one more shot and then we’ll go—” 

Of course, he should’ve known you wouldn’t be satisfied with one, and the adorable pout on your lips would usually have been enough to have him crumbling, but he needed to get you home. 

You shook your head immaturely when he tried again to pull you away from the bar, practically whining as you begged him to stay, causing a disgruntled grunt to vibrate in his chest as he tugged your arm. 

“Come.” The word left his lips before he’d even thought about the implication, already turning his body to leave. 

And it should’ve made you follow him— But that isn’t how his cursed speech decides to work, and that’s definitely not where your mind is right now. 

You can feel it before it happens, your body torn from your consciousness as you feel the familiar tingles of energy pulse through your veins as your climax builds in your pelvis— but this is different. The desire blooms so hard and fast that it’s impossible to fight it, as you try to clamp your thighs together to satiate the ache as your arms tighten around Toge’s shoulders. 

He knows what he’s done before he sees it happen. The pleasured look on your face as your thick lashes flutter and your glossy lips part in a shameless whine, manicured nails drag against the messy hair at the base of his skull as your legs become weak. Leaning more of your weight against his a debauched, desperate whine spills from your lips.

Oh, shit. It’s loud, and he’s certain someone has got to have heard it, protectively pulling you closer as though he’s afraid someone else might get to see you like this. 

Toge feels his cock respond, pulsing against his pants as it begs to be set free. To feel your trembling walls hug him tightly as he slides into you for the first time— he’s fucked his fist more times than he cares to count to this image, and somehow seeing it here and now could never compare to all those dirty fantasies he’s had about you. 

The pleasure is all-consuming and nothing compared to the orgasms you’ve had in the past. It feels as though an invisible energy has injected its way into your veins and has filled you with an inexplicable warmth as your climax surges through you in harsh waves. The intensity has you weak at the knees as you cling to Toge to stop yourself from buckling to the floor, burying your face in his neck as Toge wishes he could see the way your eyes roll as your lashes tickle his throat and your lipstick smears against his collar, not that he cares— 

It’s too much, too intense as your hole clenches around nothing and your clit pulses. Thankful for the loud music coming out through the speakers as a sinful whine spills from your lips, your hips jerk wildly as you feel Toge’s hard cock press against your tummy. His breath comes out in harsh pants as he tries to think of something, anything to stop himself from creaming his pants. Already feeling the fresh pre drooling out of his cockhead and soaking his boxers at the mere sight of you.

“Fu-uck, Toge.” You whimper, your nails drag against his scalp as your fingers weave into his messy hair to tug roughly. Stealing a sudden gasp from the back of his throat as he feels you press your body against his. 

Toge tries to commit the sound of your moans to memory. The sultry, debased sound of your voice crying out his name as he forced an orgasm from you that he’ll no doubt be fucking his fist to later tonight as he feels your breasts drag against his chest. He feels like a pervert for getting off on this, no better than the men who were loitering around the bar for a glimpse up your skirt. 

A real creep— but somehow this was worth it, he thinks. 

In all those nefarious thoughts he’s ever had about you while he’s stroking his cock, he’s never once imagined you’d look this good. Completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t even touched you. The corrupt whines he’d stolen from your lips continue well into the tremours of your orgasm as he clings to the sound of them, unabashedly shifting closer so he can hear the high-pitched breathy whines you make over the music playing through the speakers. 

He doesn’t even care if your friends can see at this point if he’ll be roasted in the group chat or vilified for it later. He reckons it would all be worth it having finally seen you fall apart for him like this. 

And little did Toge know that you didn’t seem to mind much either. Your ex had never made you cum like that— an all-encompassing climax that left you feeling like putty. Your legs quivered as you felt the aftershocks continue to trickle through you all the way down to the tips of your toes. An impassioned energy that had your mind hazy, laced with cheap alcohol as it managed to consume your consciousness. 

It’s embarrassing. Knowing that anyone could turn to watch you in the crowded bar, to see just how blissed out you are as you lose control of your body and your senses. The pleasure practically forced itself upon you as you drown in it, wishing he’d help you through it with his fingers against your clit or inside your empty cunt as it continued to flex completely empty. Wondering if this is what he could do with his cursed speech, what Toge would be able to do with his hand— with his cock. 

You were looking up at him with the most fucked out expression on your face, it made it difficult for Toge not to want to kiss you— especially with your lips so close.  

“Fucking hell, Toge,” You exhaled shakily as you clung to him, “That was—”

He locks his jaw to bite back the urge to cough, trying to swallow it in his throat as he moves to pull his mask back over his face. Hoping to shield his now crimson cheeks but your hand is quicker, reaching out to prevent him from pulling it up. 

Toge wraps your wrist in a rough palm to tug your hand away from his mask with a frown, feeling his thumb press into your pulse point as you practically whine at him. Your hips still gyrating as you start to come down from your bliss, his eyes flit out to see if anyone seems to have noticed but thankfully the bar is raucous as he holds you against him as you continue to ride the little aftershocks of pleasure. 

You use your grip on the back of his head to tug him down to your height, your glossy lips barely graze his as you press your lips together. A kiss that leaves him craving more as his tongue peeks out to swipe at the gloss, tasting the sugary hint of cherry as you go cross-eyed looking at the curse mark on his tongue. 

Toge can’t stop himself now, one taste and he’s addicted. His warm palm smooth along your side as he maps out the curves of your body, inching his way up until he finds your face. Cupping your cheek in his hand as he leans forward to kiss you, his lips press firmly against yours as you gasp softly, allowing his tongue to delve further as he strokes it against every crevice. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss as you brush your tongue against his gently, feeling yourself melt into him as your hand's ball into fists in the fabric of his shirt. 

He knows it’s wrong. You’re inebriated, he’s already taken advantage of you by using his cursed speech and yet he can’t stop himself. You’re like a drug and he’s addicted as he longs for one more taste, just another hit and then he’ll quit— except he never wants to quit you.  

Toge has never felt so much disdain for the basic human need to breathe as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, keeping his lips pressed against yours as he pants against you. Your warm breath fans his face as half-lidded eyes meet his, your lipstick now smeared across the sides of your lips and chin as you give him a sweet smile. 

“Toge,” You whine, “You didn’t have to use your cursed speech on me to make me cum.” 

“Ikura.” He curses beneath his breath at the sultry lilt to your tone. 

“Can you make me cum again without it?” You ask so sweetly it has his body reacting before his mind as his neglected cock throbs beneath his pants.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be the death of him.

[honeipie]

can i request kuroo x reader? they get ready for bed together in the bathroom and then have a little make out session in bed. nothing smutty just some kisses maybe a few hickies if you want 🥰🥰🥰

routine

kuroo x reader

synopsis: you and kuroo take in the domestic feel of getting ready for bed together

w/c: 651

authors note: thank you for the request!

“ugh, i hate that you take longer in the bathroom than i do. you’re such a girl” you groaned leaning on the door.

“well you could always come inside. couples usually do that”

“yeah but you’re peeing. i don’t wanna watch you pee”

“you know, some girls would pay to watch me pee” he flushed the toilet moving over to wash his hands “you’re telling me you get this whole show for free and you don’t even want a peek?”

you opened the door face scrunched up in disgust “i will look down there any other time. but if we’re in a bathroom i’m not” making your way over you grabbed your toothbrush hands brushing as he grabbed his.

“you’ve already broken that. remember that one time on our honeymoon. they had this rain shower that hit just-“

“okay! yes! thank you i remember that. i remember it very well..” he grabbed the toothpaste putting it not only on his toothbrush, but yours as well. this was when he finally noticed your choice of pajamas.

“the hell are you wearing?”

you were dressed in a dark blue hoodie, an all too familiar one to him. on the back it had hinata’s name and jersey number on it.

“.. a hoodie?”

“yeah but it’s not the right teams hoodie”

you rolled your eyes with a smile “tetsu you work for the volleyball association. aren’t you supposed to be rooting for all teams?”

“nope! i work for the japan volleyball association. that’s brazil. plus i don’t like having another guys name on you”

“it’s your hoodie!”

he mocked your words before placing the toothbrush in his mouth. you scoffed giving him a light shove.

“don’t be like that!”

“jush brush your teef” he jumbled out his words through the foam. you started to brush your teeth contently beside him. it didn’t take long before his hand was lazily resting on your waist.

it felt nice. the two of you doing these types of things together. being honest, kuroo never knew if he wanted a life like this. stuck in some routine with a person when he could be out partying in some VIP lounge with his friends. though now that he was actually here with you, the person he loved more than anything, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

the two of you finished up in the bathroom moving into the bedroom. you immediately got under the covers while kuroo shed his shirt throwing it to the floor.

"damn you couldn't even wait for me?" he mumbled climbing right on top of you.

"nope, bed was too comfy to ignore"

"i'm comfy too y'know"

"says the guy laying on me instead of the other way around"

you raised an eyebrow at him making him roll his eyes "shut up" you giggled at his sass. he moved his head up so he was face to face with you "i love you"

"i love you more"

he leaned into your smiling face, catching it in a kiss. it started off slow but he quickly got impatient. you could feel the coolness of his hands running up your sweatshirt. he moved his mouth from yours to your neck.

everything was going smoothly, just tiny kisses being peppered across your neck until-

"tetsu!" you yelped pulling him away "did you just bite me?"

kuroo scoffed trying to fight your grasp "no!.. i nipped you" he took his thumb rubbing the slightly red spot "sorry about that, but at least that one kid from your job will stop hitting on you now"

your body relaxed again feeling him rubbing the spot "he's not a kid, he's just an intern with a lot of questions"

"yeah, a lot of personal questions"

"oh my gosh i forgot to tell you. he asked what i was doing tomorrow and-"

"that's it i'm biting you again"

"but you didn't let me finish!?"

[sweetyyhippyy]

Thighs. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Smut*.

Summary: Eddie loves every part of her body, but her thighs are truly his weakness.

Word Count: 1k

TW: Talk about boobs, buts and those parts of the body being touched by Eddie. Eddie being a hornball, but reader being a hornball too. Smut, duh. Thigh fucking. Praising. Eddy=Daddy (again, duh).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Of course Eddie loved her boobs. Great for resting his head on when he laid on top of her. Great to squeeze just to annoy her. Great to look at when she wrote that low cut green shirt and that dark lacy bra that pushed her mounds together to give her the most beautiful cleavage he’d ever seen.

Of course Eddie loved her ass. What an ass. Great for resting his head on when she was stomach down on the bed reading. Great to smack when she bent over to pick something up off the floor. Great to look at when she wore that little black skirt that barely fit over the curvature of her ass and just the slightest movement from her would cause the bottom of her cheeks to do a little peekaboo.

But her legs and thighs? He couldn’t get enough.

Fall and winter were his enemy since her legs were always covered by pants. The only time he got a glimpse of the soft skin were the nights he begged for her to take her sweatpants off so he could feel that baby soft skin between his fingertips.

He loved when she was laying in bed, innocently enough, and he would slide his body in between her legs. His fluffy head would rest on her stomach while he let her thighs encase his head. More than half the time he never meant anything sexual by it, he loved feeling the comfort of her soft skin.

But there were some days that he couldn’t help himself.

Every so often, she would only wear a big shirt and panties, really showcasing how juicy and soft her thighs were to him. That’s when Eddie truly lost all control of himself.

“Teddy? Can you do me a favor?” She walks out into the bedroom, fresh out of the shower.

Eddie turns to look at her standing in the doorway of the bathroom, the hem of her shirt sitting on her upper thighs. The drool was practically rolling down his mouth. “How can I help you, Princess?” He says with a small smirk on his face.

She walks to the bed, the bottle of lotion in her hand and a sneaky smile on her face. “Will you put lotion on for me? My legs are really hurting a lot tonight.” She was almost as transparent as he was when it came to asking for sex.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the small pout that was on her face. If only she knew how little she needed to beg him. “Aww, your poor legs hurt huh? Come here and let me help you.”

It wasn’t long before Eddie had his cock buried deep inside her, slamming into her at a brutal pace. Her legs were thrown over his shoulders so he could hit it deeper, his fingers gripping the pillowy skin of her thighs.

“That’s it.” Eddie grunts from deep in the back of his throat. “You take my dick like such a good girl, don’t you.”

She grabs his upper arms as tight as she can, holding onto him for dear life as he rams into her. She can’t even speak coherent words to him, just half broken moans.

“Hold on, sweet thing. I’m going to pull out, don’t be mad at me.” He slowly withdraws himself from her, taking her thighs and putting them together. “Keep your legs up for me, okay?”

She nods her head lazily, holding the back of her thighs while she watches Eddie pump his length a few times.

Eddie slips the head of his cock in between her plush thighs, slowly fucking his cock between the limbs. “Shit.” He breathes out shakily. “Been needing this for a long time.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip as she whines, seeing his tip poking out from between her thighs. The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against her clit, at each movement.

“Fuck that feels so good.” She moans out, reaching out to touch his stomach softly.

Eddie smushes her thick thighs together, creating a tighter hold around his dick. “Baby, fuck.” His almond eyes roll deep into his skull, truthfully losing his mind the faster he thrusts in between her thighs.

Her nails softly take down his lower stomach, touching the dark hair adorning the skin, a wicked smile on her face as she looks up at him. “Can’t get enough of my legs, daddy? They make you that worked up you needed to fuck ‘em?”

“Shit.” Eddie whines out, throwing his head back. “Shh, baby. Those words are going to make me cum.”

She giggles, sitting up onto her elbows. “I like when you cum.” She whispers softly. “When you cum all over me.” An evil smile on her face, staring into Eddie’s soul practically.

“Goddamn it.” Eddie parts her thighs slightly, gripping the base of his cock and exploding on top of her pussy and up to her stomach. “F-f-fuck!” He groans from the back of his throat loudly, his groan turning into a growl.

“Holy shit.” She laughs in amazement, watching as the white ropes shoot out of him and land far up her stomach. “That’s so hot, daddy.” She moans out.

Eddie rests his hand on her knee to keep him from collapsing on her. “Damn. I didn’t last as long as I thought.” He chuckles.

“Come here.” She reaches for his arm, pulling him toward the bed to lay down next to her. “I wanna hold you.”

Eddie goes to wrap his arm around her middle, but is immediately stopped by the white globs of his cum on her stomach. “Oh.” He chuckles. “Let me get something for that.” He leans over the bed and grabs his shirt off the floor, dragging the cloth through the mess he made of her.

The shirt gets launched by Eddie, trying to aim for the hamper, but missing by a long shot and landing on the floor. Eddie rests his head on her chest, touching the skin of her upper arm while he nuzzles into her supple skin.

Her fingers rake through his hair, pulling apart the knot in his hair. “You truly know how to make a girl feel beautiful, don’t you Romeo?”

“Should never feel any other way, sweetheart.” He responds, kissing the skin of her chest.

[illyrianbitch]

Safe

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel's night is troubled by a nightmare. He finds a soothing remedy in the arms of his mate.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, nightmares, slight mention of gore, death, and torture. fluff, sensual, slow, sleepy sex!!

Word Count: 3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

All that surrounded him was screaming— sharp and jarring sounds that filled the air, echoing against stone walls. Bodies littered the ground, twisted and broken, red and bloodied, faces contorted in agony. If he squinted hard enough, Azriel could force the colors to blur together, could convince himself that the crunching underneath his boots was the sound of crisp, fallen Autumn leaves— not bones. Not the people he’d killed.

Somewhere, a fire roared, consuming everything in its path, turning the world into an inferno of despair. He felt it in his hands, felt a burst of agony and pain. He heard crying somewhere distant, somewhere far enough to where it became white noise— but his own cheeks were wet. He was crying too. His hands were on fire. He was eight again. And nothing had changed.

A face—your face—emerged, eyes wide and red-rimmed, tears streaking down your cheeks as you sobbed uncontrollably. You mouthed something, the words strained and straggled as you attempted to scream. He swore it was his name that your lips let out, that you were begging for help.

Azriel sprang up, his heart pounding as a thin sheen of sweat ran down his body in a cold chill. 

His gaze landed on two things first: the nightstand, where Truth-Teller was carefully, purposefully tucked into the side of the wood, and then to you—his beautiful, sleeping mate.

Azriel's chest tightened, the fear and anguish from the dream slowly dissipating as he focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still, remnants of his nightmare clung to him like a shroud. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. 

The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of moonlight through the thin white curtains. Azriel took a deep breath, grounding himself in the reality of your presence, the safety of your shared bed. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and careful, as if afraid to wake you. He smiled at your sleeping form, at how he wasn’t uncomfortable with his scarred hands against your skin— not anymore. 

His shadows seemed to be sleeping as well, their dark forms curled around you protectively. All except for one lone tendril which hovered near Azriel, an insomniac companion mirroring his unrest. He let it twist lazily around his hand as he withdrew it from your face. 

You stirred slightly, murmuring something in your sleep, and Azriel felt a wave of relief wash over him. He leaned back against the headboard, still breathing heavily, but the rhythm gradually calmed. He positioned his wings into a comfortable lay behind him. 

Azriel closed his eyes, welcoming thoughts of the first time he’d met you. He reminded himself that you were here, beside him, and wouldn’t be taken away. His mind replayed the memory of your first meeting, of the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him— he had been a goner since that first day. He thought about your first kiss next, how nervous he had been, how you took his hands and pressed your lips to his, how your lips tasted of berry from the pie you both shared. The memories combined with the smell of you, with the warmth of your body next to him, slowly soothed the last remnants of his terror.

“Az?” 

His eyes shot open and he looked over as you lifted yourself up, rubbing your tired eyes—still heavy-lidded and soft. The shadows around you stirred, a few of them joining the lone one that drifted around Azriel's hands.

“My love, did I wake you?” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. “No, not completely.”

Azriel's eyes softened as you shifted closer, moving to rest atop him. He extended his wing to wrap around you protectively, a hand moving to pull you in closer.

Your bare hand came to rest on his chest and he shivered at the touch, at the chill of your skin in contrast to the warmth of his own. He grimaced at the sheen of sweat that still persisted against his skin, but you paid no mind as you extended your palm across his chest.

You gave a small laugh, the sound soft and sleepy. Azriel’s heart fluttered at it and he found himself craving for the sound to be emitted once more— over and over again until he could savor it enough to be satisfied. Not that he ever could be— satisfied, that was. He never had enough when it came to you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, your lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

Azriel smiled lazily at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss tenderly. “You and your ice hands,” he teased gently, brushing his lips against your knuckles. 

You leaned further into him, nuzzling against his chest. “Well, you moved away in your sleep. I was left alone and cold.”

Azriel gave you a small laugh, though it held a trace of lingering unease as your words settled in his chest. Alone and cold. His eyes glazed over slightly, now looking past the moment he was in and into something much darker— momentarily reliving the memory of his nightmare. 

You placed your hand back on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He blinked once, twice, and then he was back in his bed, arms wrapped around you.

Azriel's fingers traced the contours of your face, his touch light and reverent— sacred almost, as if he were touching a prized treasure, something holy. He moved slowly, committing every detail to memory, ensuring you were real, that you were there before him. He took it all in—the curve of your lips, the softness of your cheeks, the warmth in your eyes. Mate, his shadows whispered into his ears, Your mate. Mate, mate, mate. 

Safe.

His hand cupped your cheek and the golden thread within him sang—- a sweet, beautiful, haunting melody that pushed away the tension building in his shoulders. 

“I’m here,” you said softly, your own hand rising to cover his, grounding him in your touch. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Azriel nodded, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. “Good,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You stared at one another for a moment, the dimly lit room filled with a comforting silence, something peaceful and safe. Slowly, you moved your hand to his face, your fingers brushing lightly over his cheek. You leaned up, closing the distance between you, and brought him into a kiss.

The kiss was tender and kind, and Azriel felt everything about love within it— comfort, trust, and a promise. He pulled you in closer, his hand wrapping around you, while the other held your face gently, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You were his. And he was yours in return. 

Azriel deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, his tongue gently exploring your mouth. A soft whimper escaped you, the sound sending a wave of pleasure through his body, tightening at the core of his stomach. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes searching yours, dark with desire and affection. You only pulled him back in, your body pressing against his, a needy grind that ignited a fire within him, an insatiable need to be even closer to you, to feel you in a manner that was only granted to him. 

With a swift, fluid movement, he rolled you both so you were on your back and he was hovering above you. One hand braced himself on the bed, while the other roamed over your hips and your body, feeling the curves beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. His scarred hands brushed over the silk, the material still gliding against the roughness of his skin.

He pulled his lips from yours, slowly trailing down your neck, peppering burning kisses against your skin. His hand moved up, sliding under your nightdress, tracing the lines of your body. His touch was gentle, exploring every inch of you as if it were the first time.

You arched into him, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a sound that made his heart race even faster. Azriel's hand continued its journey, caressing your thigh, your waist, before finally making it up to your breast, squeezing gently through the fabric.

You let out a sound, a mixture of a breathless gasp and a whimper, and Azriel’s eyes found yours as his fingers grazed over the peak of your hardened nipple. He rolled it between his fingers. 

"Azriel.” 

Your voice trembled with need and something inside Azriel stirred further. This was real, you were real. 

"Yes, my love?" he murmured, his voice husky. His hand continued its slow, torturous movements, thumb brushing over your nipple in a way that made your toes curl. “What is it?”

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath your fingers. You ran a teasing touch along the base of his wings, caressing the sensitive area with a chilled touch. Azriel shivered above you, lowering himself to press further against you.

"I need you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. His eyes fell to your parted lips and his lips curved into a tender smile.

"I'm here, my love," he said softly. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. His tongue teased yours, the taste of him intoxicating. He pulled apart to whisper, “And you are, too.”

You nodded slowly. “I am.” 

Your words were met with a tug deep in your chest that left you breathless. You bit back a moan at the feeling of that sacred thread growing even tauter, at the feeling of his arousal drowning your senses. 

Azriel pushed the strap of your nightdress down, watching as you moved it further to expose your chest to him. He pulled you into another kiss, just as hungry, just as passionate, before he was kissing down your neck once more— down to your collarbone and right above your breast. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

You gasped, your back arching off the bed, pressing yourself closer to him. "Azriel," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair.

He switched to your other breast, giving it the same attention. His fingers brushed over your hip, your thigh, before finally slipping between your legs. He found you wet and ready. The fabric of your dress bunched awkwardly at your waist, but neither of you cared— too tired to bother with maneuvering it over your head, too lost in the desire that flooded your senses. 

Azriel could have teased you, could have made the anticipation agonizing, could have spread his touches so far and light that you were begging him—like usual. Oh how he loved turning you to putty in his hands, watching as you writhed against him. But not tonight, not as he felt you beneath him, as he smelled your sweet arousal.

He spread you open with his hands, holding your legs apart as he took in your glistening core. His touch was tender, reverent, as he brought a finger through your folds, feeling your warmth and wetness. A low groan escaped him. 

"My mate," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm against your most intimate place. “So beautiful.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows to watch Azriel as he dipped a finger inside you. His eyes locked onto yours as he curled his finger inside you, eliciting another soft moan from your parted lips. You arched your back at the sensation, head falling back slightly. 

Azriel brought his mouth to your clit, his tongue teasing and circling the sensitive bud. You looked down at him, mouth slightly open, eyes heavy with desire, and chest heaving. One of your hands went to grab your breast, fingertips tracing where your nipple still glistened with his saliva. Shadows met your hands, twisting around your breasts in a gentle, teasing attention — flitting just above the sensitive hardened peaks. 

Azriel added another finger inside you, stretching and filling you as he continued to lavish attention on your clit. His fingers and shadows worked in tandem, pleasuring you in ways that sent shivers down your spine. Each touch brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy, a simmering, building feeling of pleasure in your core. 

His free hand moved to grip your thigh, holding you steady as he brought you closer to climax. His eyes never left yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your pulse quicken even more. You could feel his fingers inside you, his tongue on you, and the tug of your beautiful bond deep in your chest. 

You let go completely, surrendering to the sensations that filled your body— with a cry of his name, you shattered. 

He lapped up your essence, savoring every drop of your pleasure. Rising above you, chest heaving, he breathed heavily as he looked down at you, something so beautiful, so real, beneath him.

You reached out to him.  "I'm here," you whispered, your voice filled with love and an overwhelming, dripping need. "Please. I need you."

Azriel nodded slowly, his desire mirrored in his eyes as he maneuvered himself to rid himself of his underwear. He returned to you, his body aligning with yours, skin against skin, a tug at the connection that weaved your souls together. 

He hovered above you, hands tracing the curves of your body, savoring how you felt under his hands— Gods, he’d never tire of feeling you, never be close enough. His light, his salvation, his mate.

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss. 

"Anything for you, my love," Azriel whispered against your lips, his voice thick with longing and devotion. The sound of it made you clench everything below the waist. His fingers trailed down your body, finding their way between your legs once more. He guided himself to your entrance, teasingly brushing against you, and the movement elicited a gasp from your lips.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer, hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him into you. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed himself past your folds, a low moan escaping his lips as he sank into you. 

"Fuck," he murmured. "So perfect."

Azriel intertwined your fingers and held your hands gently above you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. With every roll of his hips, he whispered mantras of love, devotion, and praise, his voice a soothing, low cadence against your skin. You greedily drank in every word, feeling them flitter through your body like aphrodisiacs. 

The pace was slow, deliberate, almost lazy compared to the usual fervor with which Azriel ravished you. But it was exactly what he needed—soft, sensual, a reminder that you both existed in this moment, here and now.

You tightened your grip on his hands, urging him closer, wanting to merge your souls as intimately as your bodies were intertwined. Azriel kissed every area of exposed skin, thrusting into you as your cunt welcomed him greedily. 

He pulled out of you as far as he could just to slowly ease into you once again. Each thrust was thoughtful, intentional, and your whimpers grew louder as he continued. Azriel traced his nose over your shoulder, whispering your name to make you turn your head— just enough for him to kiss you. 

Mate, mate, mate. 

Safe.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, savoring your taste and how perfectly your body remembered him— how well you took him. 

He was alive and safe, in a bed that he shared with his mate— a mate that was writhing underneath him as he pushed you to another brink of pleasure.

Azriel's forehead rested against yours and he released your hands gently, allowing you to wrap them around his neck— bringing one to glide along his extended wing, eliciting a shudder throughout his body. 

"I love you," you whispered against him, “I’m here.”

Those words were all it took for Azriel to deepen his movements, for his pace to quicken as he leaned into you more, kissing you deeply as he rolled into you.

With a shared cry of pleasure, you both found release together, bodies trembling as Azriel emptied himself inside you. 

After he pulled out, Azriel spent a moment kissing you tenderly, his lips moving across your skin with reverence and affection. You both swayed together in the aftermath, riding the waves of blissful satisfaction as you lazily kissed one another, limbs still entangled like braided rope. 

He gently pulled himself away and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth and a lazy, adoring smile. Azriel cleaned you up with gentle strokes, his kisses following the path of the cloth as he murmured sweet nothings against your skin. My beautiful mate, my treasure for life. Real, sacred— and all his. Each touch was a whisper of love and care, an intimate ritual that had grown to a routine as the bond deepened between you.

Once he was done, Azriel crawled back into bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, cocooning you with his wing to keep you warm. He didn’t mind those cold fingers of yours, didn’t mind the chills they sent across his body, but tonight he would keep you close, keep you warm. His other hand found yours, placing it gently atop his heart, where you could feel its steady beat, matching yours in perfect rhythm.

Sighing contentedly, Azriel closed his eyes. He let the scent of you fill his nostrils, let the sound of your breathing fill his ears, and soon fell into a blissful, nightmare-free slumber. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

thank u to this anon who suggested i do something like this following my one-shot memories! pls enjoy this lil piece while i work on malice and LCL!! <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @justyouraveragekleemain

@panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐯 𝐦𝐞𝐧 (+ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐮) + 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬. (𝟑)

➺ INCLUDES: south terano, shinichiro sano, keizo arashi (benkei), takeomi akashi, mitsuya takashi, senju kawaragi (all of legal age, timeskip or bonten) x fem!reader

➺ CONTENT WARNING | this post contains explicit porn links!! you may need to have a twitter account or change your privacy settings to be able to see them. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

➺ NOTE | i’ll be taking a break from twitter links after this one. I want to focus on actual writing rather than straight up porn lol

SOUTH.

If there's one thing South loves more than pounding your pussy, it's shoving his cock down your throat. He’ll have you laying on your back with your head hanging off the side of the bed, his cock stuffed deep inside your throat. He’ll wrap his hand around the large bulge and jerk it before withdrawing just long enough to let you breathe, quickly going back to pushing himself all the way down your throat, watching as you swallow him down effortlessly.

↳ LINK ↲ [broken :(]

BENKEI.

Benkei is always so gentle with you. Because of this, you’d think morning sex with him would also be gentle; soft whispers exchanged in each other’s mouths while he gently pushes his cock into you, his hand on your clit helping you reach your climax faster. While this scenario does happen, it doesn't always go the way you think it will. Most times when he's been awake for longer than you have - he'll have you laying down on your belly, one of your legs dangling off the bed as he takes you from behind, your face buried deep into the pillow to muffle your moans, fists twisting the sheets. His hands grip onto your hips and the plump skin of your ass as he chases his high, each thrust bringing the two of you closer to your limit.

↳ LINK ↲

SHINICHIRO.

Days where Shin has the house to himself are rare, but when he does, the two of you always make the most of it. Those days usually consist of cuddling, making out, and, well, lots of sex. It's the only time when you can be as loud as you want — and most importantly your only opportunity to fuck whenever and wherever you want. You’ll be preparing breakfast in the morning and Shin will have you pressed against the counter before you can even begin to light the stove, his hands pushing your skirt up so he can bury his face between your thighs, starting his day with his favorite breakfast.

↳ LINK ↲ [broken :(]

TAKEOMI.

This man will lose his fucking mind if you give him head, especially if you do it out of nowhere while the two of you are relaxing in bed or watching a movie on the couch. It’ll start with you palming him over his sweatpants, teasing him just long enough to get him hot and bothered, his mind becoming too cloudy to focus on anything outside of you. He’ll lift himself up and push his pants down to his thighs, your lips immediately wrapping around his thick cock, sucking and stroking what doesn't fit in your mouth.

↳ LINK ↲

MITSUYA.

Mitsuya much prefers giving rather than receiving, which is why he always insists on eating you out before fucking you. You don’t even have to return the favor — he doesn't need it. Don't get me wrong, he does enjoy getting head and he obviously won't refuse a blowjob when you offer him one, but watching you moan and squirm as he coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you has to be his favorite sight in the world. All he wants is to make you feel good, his hands resting on your ass as you circle your hips and hump his face, pushing his tongue deeper and fucking yourself on it as you sit on his pretty face.

↳ LINK ↲

SENJU.

Senju eats you out so good, it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she manages to break you into a moaning mess and pull multiple orgasms out of you with just her tongue. She knows exactly what you like, what to do and where to focus in order to get a specific reaction out of you or have you pull her hair just a bit tighter — your moans like music to her ears as she devours you.

↳ LINK ↲

[another-random-paradise]

Your writing was adorable! I have a headcanon request for TWST. Feel free to ignore if it's not interesting, I won't mind. (￣▽￣)=3

Lilia, Leona, Azul (or whomever as long as Lilia is there)'s reaction to crush!reader sleepily telling them they want to marry them one day.

I'm a sap for mushy things. ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

A sleepy confession

Thank you so much for the request, it's adorable!! and of course, thank you for the compliments too! I'm a sucker for mushy things too, so this was so much fun to write!

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

Crush!Reader sleepily telling him, they want to marry him / Part two

Characters: Lillia, Leona, Azul

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that i can think off

Lillia

-you probably found silver asleep somewhere comfortable and instead of waking him up like usual (cause you're a good friend) you decide to also lay down and sleep... You most likely had History with professor Trein before this.

-Lillia just happened to be nearby, or maybe he was keeping an eye on silver, yk, like a good dad :D

- If you're napping under a tree, he might just be sitting on one of the branches

-You'd sleepily look up to him on the branches, as the old fae smiles down at you, and you, probably already half a sleep and maybe even thinking it's a dream, mumble out a soft "I wanna marry you one day.." 

-poor guy almost fell out off the tree

-you can't just do that to his old heart!! You can and you did

-his expression would soften, like he'd still be smiling, but it wouldn't be his typical trickster kinda smile (please tell me you know what i mean)

-Despite his usual attitude, I feel like he was very worried about loving you. I'm a huge believer in the Idea that fae usually only fall in love once, so after Meleanor, he believed that was it, he'd never love again. And then you came into his life, like a shining star, guiding him out of the darkness.  

-While he was grateful that he got a second chance at love, especially with someone as amazing as you, it's also nerve wrecking for him. The last and only time before this, he had his heart broken and ended up raising her son. Just the thought of the same thing happening again terrified him.

-But after what you just said, he won't need to worry about that anymore, right?

-Now he just needs to come up with the best way to confess... maybe he could cook you something! 

Leona

-Due to Leona being a bit of a tsundere, I don't feel like he'd get you to cuddle/sleep with him before officially dating

-BUT, if you two got paired together for a project, especially if it's in the botanical garden, chances are very high, you are doing the project and he's napping

-and doing a project by yourself gets you tired, especially one meant for magic as a magicless student, so you eventually lie down next to him

-due to his sensitive hearing, he lazily opens eyes, and sees you, already half asleep, looking at him, confusing him at first not that he's complaining, till.. "Despite you making me do this project by myself, i somehow i still wanna marry you some day" and just like that you're asleep.

-He, on the other hand, is suddenly very wide awake. 

-what?? you didn't mean that, right?? that's just the tiredness speaking, right?? you couldn't have meant that, right? why, or rather how, could you like him of all people?....He can't imagine being anyone's, let alone your, first choice. He's so used to being second.

-For the first time in forever, he is fully awake and can't go back to sleep, just what are you doing to him, Herbivore? 

-But this means you like him back, right? alright fine, he'll put some work into confessing, just don't expect anything to grand

-He'd still be awake once you wake up again, much to your confusion, but still deliberately refuse to help. Not a word of what you said is spoken, but if you look closely enough you'll see the blush on his cheeks!

Azul

-You wanted to rest after a long day, maybe even after a long shift at the mostro lounge, and Azul was gracious enough to let you rest on one of the couches in the VIP room, while he worked. He actually wanted to appear like a gentleman in front of you and impress you.

-You can't convince me that those couches aren't comfortable. Which is why you almost immediately fall asleep the moment you lay down.

-But before you do, you make one last comment "I already want to marry you one day as is, but if it means I get to rest like this every night, I'll buy the ring tomorrow"

-If a student walked in right now, they might just confuse him with a crashed pc; or maybe with riddle, considering how red he is

-Just completely stops everything he's doing, he's in shock. he doesn't believe he can actually be loved

-It genuinely shocks him so much that you actually like him back, let alone want to marry him, but he can't say he isn't happy! So him being even more of a gentleman to you and giving you countless discounts worked! (You actually already liked him before that! but he was to busy being insecure to notice)

-Immediately starts working on a relationship contract for you two, hell, you said you want to marry him, right?? might as well start working on the marriage certificate!

-He continues to be absolutely flustered as he writes the two contracts, if either of the twins saw him right now, he'd never hear the end of it!

-Prepare to be asked to dinner at the most romantic table in the mostro lounge with Azul, where he will then ask you out and discusses your relationship as if it was a business meeting :)

Ahhhh my first request, thank you so much again for your kind words and the adorable request, I truly hope i lived up to it's greatness <3

I'm still in book 4, so i tried to write Lilia as in-character as possible based on what i saw of him during events and from other writers :)

feedback is welcomed, just be Kind! Hope you all have a lovely day/night!

[v6quewrlds]

GOOD DAYS, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀2.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀what gift do you get for a man who has the world at his fingertips? a really, really good day.

author's note⠀⁎⠀fluff to celebrate joey's 28th. warnings⠀⁎⠀crying, mentions of the jake paul mike tyson fight.

In the early morning light, the Cincinnati suburbs were habitually quiet. The calming silence was only broken by the occasional chirp of a bird or the distant sound of a neighbor's lawnmower. Inside Joe's sprawling home, he lay on his stomach in your plush, king-sized bed, his broad shoulders moving up and down in a steady rhythm as he quietly snored.

Your brown skin shuffled against the eggshell white comforter as you tried to slide away without disturbing him. But as soon as you moved, Joe's hand reached for your wrist, dragging you back into his grasp as you shrieked in response. Despite being a heavy sleeper, Joe always had a strange sixth sense that woke him up whenever you attempted to leave his warmth.

“Where do you think you're goin'?” he mumbled groggily, his blue eyes peeking open to find you pouting at him from underneath his arm.

You leaned in and kissed Joe's cheek, your voice soft with morning sweetness, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Joe's sleepy smile grew as he rolled over and pulled you closer, his hands feeling the fabric of your hoodie from your alma mater. “It’s too early for you to be sneakin' away from me. What are you up to?”

You chuckled and kissed him again, your face nestling into the crook of his neck as you whispered, “Just a little something for your birthday.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed playfully as he felt you trying to squirm out of his embrace. He tightened his grip and hummed skeptically, “Is that so?”

“I wanted to pamper you a little bit. Breakfast in bed, maybe?” you offered with a small smile, hoping to distract Joe with morning kisses and the promise of food.

“Mm, or you could stay here? Pamper me where it's warm and comfortable?” Joe's voice was a low rumble as he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly.

You rolled your eyes, picking up on the hidden innuendo in Joe's suggestion, but you were determined to stick to your plan. You shifted your weight, allowing Joe's head to rest on your chest as you ran your fingers through the soft strands of his messy hair. You whispered, “Later, maybe. Right now, I need to know how your knee's doing.”

Joe grunted, his hand reflexively moving to rub his left knee. “It's fine, just a little sore. Nothing too bad,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Your eyes searched his, knowing he was downplaying it. you had watched the game the night before, your heart in your throat every time he took a hit. “Joseph,” you warned, using the name that always made him squirm. “You need to be honest with me about these things. If it's bad, you need to tell me so I can take care of you properly."

Joe sighed, his hand moving from his knee to squeeze your thigh. “It's just a bruise, sweetheart. The trainer said I’ll be good to go in a few days.”

You nodded, not entirely convinced but deciding to let it go for now. You leaned over him to grab the bottle of painkillers and a water bottle from the nightstand. “Take these for now, and I'll get breakfast started. Try to get some sleep, Joey.”

Joe took the offered pills with a grateful smile, watching as you slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. You had insisted on cooking him breakfast yourself, despite his suggestion to order in from your favorite brunch place when he got in from his flight last night.

Joe settled back into the pillows, watching your retreating figure. The aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs began to waft into the bedroom, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Despite the pain in his knee, a sense of comfort washed over him knowing you were there to take care of him.

Meanwhile, you hummed to yourself in the kitchen, juggling pans and plates with an ease that belied the complexity of Joe's breakfast order. You had been planning this for weeks, eager to show your appreciation for his hard work and the sacrifices he made for his dreams. As you flipped the french toast just right, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement for the main surprise you had in store for him.

Once the breakfast was ready, you returned to the bedroom with a tray laden with food. You found Joe propped up against the headboard, his phone in hand as the sound of his parents' voices filled the room. You set the tray down gently on his lap, the aroma of cinnamon and butter floating through the air.

He looked up at you, reaching for you to return to bed, frowning slightly when you simply pressed a kiss to his temple and turned to leave the room again. He didn't dwell on it for too long, turning his attention back to his parents on FaceTime.

You retreated to the bathroom, your thoughts racing with excitement. You had been planning the next part of Joe's birthday surprise since the moment you had decided to put on this low-key, home-based celebration. You turned the tap on the bathtub, pouring in a generous amount of Epsom salts and bubble bath. The water began to froth and steam, filling the air with a calming scent of peppermint.

You knew Joe took his recovery days seriously, especially after a rough game, so you figured a warm bath would be perfect for his knee and aching muscles. You waited for Joe to finish his conversation with his parents, your smile growing wider as you listened to their laughter and shared stories. When the call ended, you poked your head into the room.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you called out, your voice bouncing off the walls with excitement. “Your bath's ready. No complaints.”

Joe groaned but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom with a grin he failed to suppress. You watched him carefully, your eyes tracking the movement of his injured knee. You knew he was in more pain than he let on, but you also knew that Joe was never one to make a fuss. Once Joe was undressed, you turned off the lights, allowing the natural light to flood in before leaving the door slightly ajar.

“Ja'Marr and Sam will be here in about an hour. I've got some errands to run, so just rest up, okay?” You called out as you left the bathroom.

Joe's voice echoed through the space, “You're the boss,” he joked, his smile fading into a grimace as he eased into the hot water. You knew he'd protest if you hovered too much, so you left him to soak while you started to clean up the kitchen.

Your mind raced with the final details of the surprise. The video montage you had been working on for the past two months had to be perfect. You had collected messages from everyone Joe cared about—from members of the Bengals organization to high school friends and family members—a testament to the love and support surrounding him. You hoped it would serve as a reminder that even on his toughest days, he wasn’t alone.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Sam, confirming his arrival. Ja'Marr, on the other hand, was running a few minutes "fashionably" late. You knew Joe would be thrilled to see two of his closest friends, especially on his birthday. You hoped that by inviting them over, they could keep Joe occupied while you set up your home theater for the nearly 30-minute-long video tribute you had painstakingly edited over the course of two months.

Ja'Marr, with his broad smile and infectious laugh, barged through the door a few minutes later, a bottle of champagne in hand. “Happy birthday, Joey B!” he bellowed, the sound echoing through the hallways.

You emerged from the kitchen, pulling your hair into a ponytail as you gathered your purse and wallet to head out. “He should be down in a bit. I'm ordering from Jeff Ruby's, you guys want anything?”

As Ja'Marr and Sam took turns typing their orders into your notes, Joe emerged from his bath. He was now dressed in a comfortable pink hoodie and his Seinfeld sweats, thundering down the stairs, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw his friends. You noted the slight limp in his step but pushed aside your concern as he greeted them with enthusiastic handshakes and daps. You knew he was in good spirits, which was all that mattered for today.

“We still watching the fight?” Sam asked as you grabbed your keys from the counter.

Joe nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the Jake Paul v. Tyson fight they’d been dying to watch together. You couldn't help the scoff that left your lips, shaking your head in amusement. The fight had taken place nearly a month ago, but they had agreed to watch it again in greater detail as if there was much to miss the first time. But, you knew better than to stick around for the rewatch, knowing they'd be arguing over every jab, pausing and rewinding to analyze every hit.

“Alright, I'll be back in a few. You three behave yourselves,” you warned playfully, pointing a finger at them. “Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.”

Ja'Marr held up his hands in mock surrender, “I don't know what you're talkin' about, we're the perfect angels.”

you ignored him, simply calling out, “Sam, I'm trusting you.”

When you returned with the food, you found Joe and his friends engrossed in the fight, shouting at the TV as if they were ringside. You couldn't help but laugh at their passionate commentary and insistence they knew better than the professional boxers.

You quietly slipped upstairs to set up the final part of Joe’s birthday surprise. The video montage was ready to play on your home theater, and you had the room set with your favorite snacks and drinks, the ambiance perfect for a heartfelt moment. The anticipation grew as you thought about his reaction—how his face would light up when he saw the messages from his loved ones.

As you finished putting every thing in place, you heard Joe send Sam and Ja'Marr on their way, the fight having wrapped about an hour ago. You could feel your heart racing as you descended the stairs. Joe was waiting for you in the living room, his head bowed as he read through his texts, probably catching up on missed messages from his friends and family.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you approached him.

Joe looked up, his expression unreadable. “Just some birthday messages,” he said, his thumb scrolling through his phone. “Everyone's asking about my knee.”

Your eyes softened as you took in the weight of his words. He was always so private about his injuries, not wanting to be a burden on anyone. You knew he was trying to be strong, but you also knew that he needed this day to be about him, not football. You took a deep breath and announced, “You can respond tomorrow. I have one more surprise for you.”

Joe's curiosity piqued, and he followed you into the home theater, the room dimly lit and cozy as he took a seat. He glanced over his shoulder to see you approaching with a tiny, ridiculous party hat in hand.

“No.” Joe said firmly, eyeing the party hat with a disapproving squint.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “C’mon, it’s your birthday, you have to wear it!”

With a dramatic sigh, Joe allowed you to place the hat on his head, the elastic band snapping around his chin as you stepped back to admire your accessorizing touch. The hat was a neon pink monstrosity with a plume of feathers sticking out of the top. You giggled uncontrollably, pulling out a duplicate hat to put on yourself. The sight of the two of you with these absurd party hats brought a warmth to the room that Joe hadn’t felt in weeks. Joe couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Alright, alright, now that we're both looking like complete idiots, can we get on with this?” Joe teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he picked up the TV remote.

You grinned, taking a seat beside him. “Yes, sir, Mr. Grumpy Pants. But before we do, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you and how much everyone else does too.”

You took the remote from Joe and hit play on the video you had queued up. The screen flickered to life with a montage of photos and videos from Joe's life—his childhood, college days, and moments from his career. The first message was from Joe’s high school coach, who spoke about Joe’s unwavering dedication and talent on the field.

Joe's eyes grew misty as he watched, his chest swelling with pride and love. Each message brought a new face into your private sanctuary, sharing stories and well wishes. His parents talked about the first time they held him in their arms, and his brothers reminisced about the fierceness they recognized in his eyes from such a young age. His teammates praised his leadership and friendship, sharing inside jokes that made Joe's laugh echo through the room. You had managed to capture every aspect of his life, every person who had shaped him into the man he was today.

The video went on, each message more heartfelt than the last. You watched Joe's reaction, your heart swelling with joy at the sight of his tear-filled eyes and the occasional sniffle he tried to hide. When the video reached its final moments, you took his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. The screen filled with a picture of the two of you from your first date, both smiling awkwardly but eyes hopeful.

Your face appeared last on the screen, your eyes shining with love as you recorded your message.

“Happy Birthday, Joe. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life, for making me laugh, and for being the most dedicated, disciplined person I know. There's no one on Earth who deserves this love and appreciation more than you do. You inspire me every single day, and I am so proud of you. Everything you've accomplished in only 28 years is nothing short of incredible. And even though we all know you’re going to do so much more, we'll still celebrate all the wins, even the small ones. I love you more than you'll ever know, and I'm here for every hit, every victory, and every moment in between. Happy birthday, my love.”

Joe looked over at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned over, pulling you into a tight embrace, whispering into your ear, “Thank you for this. I had no idea you were going through this much trouble putting this together.”

You leaned into him, your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his heart pound against your chest. You whispered back, “It's nothing compared to what you do every day, Joe. You give everything for the people you love, and I just wanted to make sure you knew how much you're loved and cherished in return.”

You sat there, holding each other, as the final message from the video played out—a group of guys from his high school football team shouting “Happy Birthday, Joe!” in unison, their faces a blur of happiness. The screen went black, and the room grew quiet except for the soft background music that you had chosen for the end credits.

Joe pulled away, swiping at his eyes, trying to compose himself. You handed him a box of tissues from the side table, your own eyes misty with happy tears. “Was it okay? Did you like it?” you asked, your voice gentle.

“It's perfect, babe. Thank you,” Joe said, his voice thick with emotion. He took a tissue and dabbed at his eyes, trying to regain his composure. You sat next to him, your hand on the back of his neck, gently rubbing circles. You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the video’s messages lingering in the air.

Then, as if on cue, Joe’s stomach rumbled, and you both burst into laughter. It was a welcome relief from the emotional intensity of the video. You picked up the remote and paused the video, standing up. “I got your favorite from Jeff Ruby's. It's all ready for you in the dining room.”

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Joe murmured, following you out of the theater, the party hat still atop his head, taking your hand in his as you made their way back to the dining room.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “You’re worth every second of it and more.” Joe leaned down, kissing you softly on the forehead before allowing you to lead him to the dining room.

[zepskies]

More of This

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: Welcoming Russell home, where he belongs.  

AN: Here it is - bonus drabble time!~ This can be a stand-alone, but it’s really a snippet missing from Lost Time in the Every Second Counts-verse. Using the GIF above from 2x02 specifically for the hair flip. It did things to me... 😮‍💨 (But there are NO spoilers for 2x02).

Shoutout to @impala-dreamer who helped inspire this in our @jacklesversebingo chat. 😂

Word Count: 900

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Smut and feels, small tinge of angst. Russell's hair. Tattoos. Everything really.

💜 Series Masterlist  

“Welcome home,” you whispered into his mouth.

All Russell could offer was a breathless sound, caught somewhere between an agreement and a groan of pleasure. He was being treated to a feast of the eyes as you rode him slow in the comfort and safety of your bed.

Your lips didn’t quite manage to connect with his in a kiss, with heavy breaths in between and a deliberate roll of your hips against his. He’d been letting you control the pace of him sheathing home with your every drawn-out thrust.

He was enjoying the show—your hair wild, your pupils blown wide with arousal, being able to palm at your breasts and tease your hardened nipples, kissing your flushed, dewy skin.

But you could feel him getting desperate. His hands moved down your body over soft curves, just for his fingers to squeeze into the flesh of your hips and ass, trying to ground himself in you. His eyes shut and his head fell back into the pillow. You bent down and fastened your lips to his neck, kissing and sucking hard there. He slid a hand up your back and buried it in your hair.

“Takin’ me so well, baby,” he said, his voice deep and rough, and a bit strained. “But you’re torturing me a little bit.”

You giggled breathlessly into his neck. Your tone was playful and coy when you replied, “What do you mean?”

You made a show of raising your hips, letting his hard length slide out of your wet heat all the way to the tip, before you slowly sunk back down. You shifted your hips along the way, until the thick head of him was nestled deep and pressing against your cervix. You both panted for breath. Even your arms were shaking while holding yourself above him.

“Yeah, think you’re trying to kill me,” Russell uttered. “Suppose there’s worse ways to go…”

“Fuck,” you muttered, releasing into a moan. The languid drag of his cock against your inner walls was good, but nowhere near enough at this point.

Maybe you were done teasing him, as well as yourself. Maybe you were done punishing him for taking one contract job after another, taking so long to get back, and making you worry about him and his safety. Your lips made their way back to his cheek, laying a sweeter kiss there.

“Okay.” You smiled against his skin. “How about you fuck me like it’s been three months, not three weeks. I wanna feel you come hot inside me—”

Russell wouldn’t even wait for you to finish the dirty whispers already setting his blood alight. His tattooed arm wrapped around your back and pulled you flush against his chest. He manhandled you seemingly without much effort, twisting you onto your back and having you laid out underneath him.

You let out a huff as your back met the mattress and made the springs squeak. Your head barely made it onto the pillow where his head had been, but your boyfriend wasted little time in grabbing your thighs and angling you just right, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. (You didn’t need any encouragement.) He took you hard and deep, making sure he hit that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust.

You gasped and clung to his broad shoulders.

“Right there, sweetheart?” he said near your ear. His voice was rich and gravel. A shiver ran through your body, goaded along with every other sensation he was drawing out of you. You couldn’t even speak. Just a nod and a broken, desperate whimper. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip.

You were holding on for the rest of the ride. If nothing else, Russell had precision, and he was a master of his craft. And that was whatever he set his mind to.

His hand slipped between your bodies for a moment, his fingers searching, and finding, then massaging your swollen clit between thrusts. You cried out in his ear and damn near choked on your own breath, your nails biting into his shoulders. It didn’t take much longer for that tightening coil in your core to finally snap, your inner walls throbbing around his cock.

A curse and a ragged groan fell from his lips as his body locked up on him as well. You felt his body stiffen and the warmth of his release deep inside you. The sensation elicited another shiver down your spine.

You were on birth control, but it still made you feel a bit wild sometimes, whenever he came inside you. You relaxed underneath him with your knees bent, your thighs a soft cradle for his hips.

Russell kept himself upright with his forearms resting on either side of your head. His long hair had slid forward, the brown silky strands tickling your forehead as his panting breaths mingled with yours.

You attempted to brush some of his hair back behind his ears, but it fell forward again, tickling your nose. Russell allowed it on purpose, making you laugh lightly. He grinned in response, but he lowered further to capture your lips in a kiss. He didn’t mind this one being nice and slow.

Even when he parted from you, you still craved more of him. More of this.

You slipped a hand over his bearded cheek, an affectionate caress. A softer smile drew across his lips. He rested his forehead against yours, and he chuckled a little.

“It’s damn good to be home.”

AN: 🫣 Lol hope you enjoyed this one! ❤️‍🔥

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@samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[notlongtolove]

the cup holds the tea

it hits you all at once and you’re out of the booth in a flash, spencer right behind you. you’ve barely made it to the sidewalk when the drinks betray you—straight onto spencer’s shoes. the world blurs, and all you can think, mortified, is that you’ve just broken one of the cardinal rules of dating.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: bau!reader has too much to drink and its up to bf!spencer to get her home. and brief mentions of puke... oh reader...

word count: 3k

note: well personally i don't know if i could ever love someone enough where i would lay on my bed in my 'outside clothes' but good on you spence! once i slipped and fell in someone's puke and cried all the way home.

a line: They’ve seen Spencer look at a thousand things with fascination—books, theories, puzzles, statistics. But this? This is something else entirely.

It is a kind of love, is it not? How the cup holds the tea, How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare, How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes Or toes. How soles of feet know Where they’re supposed to be. - pat schneider

The room hangs on your words, the perfect moment of suspense stretched like a tightrope. You let it linger, savoring the pause.

“And they ate every last drop of it!”

The punchline lands, and laughter spills out around the table, loud and easy. You beam. Spencer watches you, his gaze warm, almost reverent. He’s always known you had this gift—how you could spin a story, command a room. If he weren’t so completely in love with you, he might’ve envied it. No amount of books or degrees could teach him your knack for recounting stories with such flair, or your ability to whip up comebacks at speeds that leave even Derek speechless.

Spencer’s lucky, and he knows it. His eyes trace the curve of your smile as you sip from your glass, your third—or fourth? He’s lost count. He notices you’re not wincing at its taste anymore and well, you know what they say when the drinks start to taste like water. The fact that you’re tearing up at something Garcia’s showing you—a sloth video, from what he can tell, doesn’t ease his worries in the slightest either. He's not entirely sure what Emily has been ordering for the table but whatever it is, it’s clearly doing its job.

It’s one of those rare nights out, the kind where the team sets work aside and pretends, for a few hours, that the weight of the world isn’t on their shoulders. Rossi had insisted, his treat he said, but Spencer suspects it was just an excuse for the team to watch you two loosen up, to let your guard down. A carefully orchestrated opportunity for the team to see something they hardly ever got to see. They’ve seen you two in the field, sharp and focused, in sync like clockwork. But tonight it's the way you lean into Spencer’s side without realizing it, the way Spencer gently moves your glass out of harm’s way when you gesture too wildly. This is a glimpse of something sacred, something rare.

It’d only been about a month since you and Spencer had made it official. Everyone saw it coming long before you did, but that didn’t stop the teasing once the news broke. They could barely pick their jaws up from off the floor even tonight when Spencer had his hand resting lightly on your waist, steadying you through the crowd as you laughed yourself breathless, stumbling. At work, you both keep it professional, steering clear of anything that might make Hotch raise an eyebrow. But the dim light of the bar is ever so tempting. The bar is full of loud laughter and clinking glasses and you just can’t help but take Spencer's hand into yours, fingers laced without hesitation. 

Spencer catches the way Derek’s eyes light up at the sight, the subtle nudge he gives Emily. He knows they’re going to bring this up later, probably all week.

But he doesn’t move his hand. He doesn’t let go.

The booth is packed tight as you’re all wedged together, shoulders brushing. Everyone’s smiling, unwinding in a way you rarely allow yourselves to, laughter bouncing in overlapping bursts. Spencer sits nursing his water, content to observe. His eyes are drawn back to you over and over, catching on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh and the animated gestures you make as you speak.

“C’mon, pretty boy, live a little,” Derek teases, “Just one drink.”

Spencer gives a sheepish smile, waving it off. “I’m fine,” he says, eyes flicking over to you once more.

He can’t keep his eyes off you tonight, it seems. You’re laughing, and It’s unmistakable, the adoration in his gaze, something so un-Spencer-like that makes Derek smile.

He knows Spencer’s not one to drink. You, on the other hand, seem a little too eager, maybe encouraged by Emily’s coaxing, and you’re already on your next drink, cheeks bright and eyes sparkling. You lean into Garcia’s cheers, your glass lifted high. Your laughter is bright and unrestrained, pulling everyone else along with it.

Spencer considers saying something when you're giggling a little more than usual, laughing too hard at a joke that doesn't warrant it. But he knows how you’d take it. You’d wave him off with that familiar insistence, the same as always. It wasn't like you couldn't hold your own, Spencer knows that. You’d held your own at Rossi’s birthday last year just fine, outlasting nearly everyone—everyone except Rossi of course. And that’s probably why he’d already taken his leave tonight, not wanting to get caught in the tail end of whatever chaos this night will inevitably bring.

But that was then and now— Well, it’s different now. Now, the role of boyfriend sits heavier on his shoulders, a title he’s all too happy to hold. And tonight, it’s a card he’s all too happy to play. It gives him leverage, an edge that makes him feel like he has a little more room to step in without you pulling the I don’t need anyone to take care of me speech. 

Spencer sees his opening as lean back into his side a little too comfortably. “Here,” he murmurs, pressing his glass into your hand. “Drink this.”

He hopes you’re just tipsy enough not to ask too many questions, as long as it’s something from the bar. For a moment, it seems like it works—you sit up, eyeing the glass cautiously, then take it from him with slow deliberation.

Almost there, he thinks.

You peer into the glass, squinting at the clear liquid, then give it a small sniff. Spencer’s heart sinks as your expression shifts.

“This is water,” you say, suspiciously.

“Yes, it is,” he admits.

Your brow furrows, the faintest pout tugging at your lips. “I’m drinking vodka.”

“And now you’re drinking water.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I’d rather not carry you out of here tonight,” he says softly, the faintest flush colouring his cheeks.

You look up at him, unimpressed, but he stays firm. “Just drink the water, sweetheart,” he says quietly, his voice barely cutting through the noise.

He braces himself for your resistance. Instead, you huff, give him a pointed glare, and drink it. He watches as you sip, your nose scrunching at the lack of a bite. Spencer lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

The night winds on, the team louder than usual, swept up in Derek’s overly dramatic retelling of the prank war that once took over the bullpen. But you’re quieter, Spencer notices, the drinks maybe finally settling in a little too fast. Your smile slower, your laughter softer, head resting on his shoulder now and again. 

And then, suddenly, you’re not looking so well. It hits you all at once. The queasy welling in your stomach, the cold sweat prickling your skin. You’re out of the booth in a flash, Spencer right behind you as you stumble toward the door, your hand clamped over your mouth. 

You’ve barely made it to the sidewalk when the drinks betray you—straight onto Spencer’s shoes. The world blurs, and all you can think, mortified, is that you’ve just broken one of the cardinal rules of dating.

Of all people it had to be Spencer—germ-conscious, always-prepared Spencer—your lovely boyfriend who at this moment you’re not sure you can ever look in the eyes again Spencer. 

You don’t have to look up to see the team’s reaction as they round the corner, wide-eyed as they process what just happened. Derek’s mouth falls open in disbelief, Emily stares in shock, and Garcia whispers a dramatic, “Oh, no…”

They’re frozen. Because Spencer—Spencer, who uses hand sanitizer like it’s an extension of his arm, Spencer who’s the first to scrunch his nose at anything remotely messy—has just had his shoes christened in the worst way. You know they’re waiting for Spencer’s reaction, the tense recoil, the carefully contained grimace.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, Spencer pauses, takes a measured breath, and steps closer to you, his hands steady on your shoulders. “Hey,” he asks, voice low and soothing as he crouches to meet your gaze. “Sweetheart, you okay?” He brushes your hair away from your face, his touch careful and kind.

“Spence—” you mumble, your voice cracking with embarrassment. Your hands fly to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. Your shoes—oh my God, your shoes—”

Spencer shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping as he crouches to steady you. His voice is impossibly gentle, calm in a way that eases the edges of your shame. “It’s fine. They’re just shoes,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your flushed face. “Let’s get you home, okay?” 

You nod, eyes shut, clearly mortified but he doesn’t let you dwell on it. He takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. For a brief moment, Spencer contemplates asking the bartender for a glass of water to rinse off the mess, but he glances at you—your slightly swaying frame, the way your head droops just a little—and decides against it.

Getting you home safely takes precedence over everything else. Shoes can wait. You can’t.

Emily’s mouth falls open slightly as she watches, “Did Reid just…?” she murmurs, half to herself, as Derek gapes beside her. “Didn’t think the kid had it in him,” Derek says, shaking his head, a grin slowly spreading. Garcia sniffs, dramatically dabbing at her eyes. “I knew he loved her, but this? This is another level.” she says letting out a dreamy sigh. 

They linger, watching as Spencer guides you steadily toward the car with careful patience. He helps you in, crouching to fasten your seatbelt. You’re still mumbling apologies, your voice thick with embarrassment, but Spencer doesn’t falter. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders even as the mess on his shoes remains. There’s not even a hint of disgust on his face—if anything, he’s focused, caring, murmuring words of reassurance as he tucks his jacket around you. His hand lingers on yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a silent promise that nothing about this has shaken him. 

“I’m so sorry, Spence,” you whisper again, your voice small and heavy with guilt. “I ruined your shoes. And your jacket. And—”

“It’s fine. You’re fine. Besides, I was planning to throw them out anyway.”

You shake your head weakly, your tone petulant even through your embarrassment. “Nooo, don’t throw them out because of me.”

His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do you suggest I do with them, angel?”

“I’ll wash them,” you declare, your words slow and sleepy.

Spencer raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’ll wash them?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, already halfway to drifting off against the seat.

“How about we get you home first and then worry about the shoes, okay?” he says gently.

“’Kay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as sleep begins to take hold.

Spencer stands, glancing back at the bar where the team is gathered. They’re not even pretending to hide their stares anymore, and he knows he’s going to hear about this for weeks. He raises a hand in a small, sheepish wave before climbing into the driver’s seat.

Derek shakes his head, laughing softly. “He’s gone,” he says, his voice carrying just enough awe to balance the humor. “Kid’s completely gone.”

Emily doesn’t need to ask what he means. Neither does Garcia. Because they’ve seen Spencer look at a thousand things with fascination—books, theories, puzzles, statistics. But this?

This is something else entirely.

The ride home is quiet, save for the occasional slurred apology from you. Spencer reassures you with the same soft patience each time, his hand steady on the wheel and his gaze flickering to you every so often, checking to make sure you’re okay. By the time he gets you home, your protests have faded, replaced by the heavy pull of exhaustion.

His arm remains firm around your waist, steadying you as he helps you inside, careful and methodical in the way he moves. He guides you to the bathroom, where you try to freshen up, fumbling with the faucet and splashing water on your face. Spencer steps in without hesitation and takes over when your movements falter. His touch is featherlight, but there’s no mistaking the care in every movement. The closeness makes your cheeks flush, though whether it’s from lingering embarrassment or something else entirely, you’re too tired to decipher.

“You don’t have to,” you murmur, your words sluggish but sincere.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his voice light but firm. “I want to.” 

He guides you to the bedroom with careful steps, his hand steady on the small of your back. Once there, he sets a glass of water on the nightstand, the gentle clink breaking the quiet.

“Drink,” he coaxes softly, his tone patient but firm.

You take the glass without protest, sipping obediently. Spencer watches, a small smile tugging at his lips. He considers making a playful comment about how quickly you’re drinking it now—so much easier than earlier—but he decides against it.

You’ve been through enough tonight, he thinks.

When he finally tucks you into bed, you’re too tired to resist. You mumble something incoherent, your hand brushing his as he leans in. Spencer pauses, his gaze lingering on your face—peaceful now, the traces of the evening’s mishaps melting away. He presses a light kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Spencer steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough to hear you if you call out. He lingers in the hallway for a moment, his shoulders sagging slightly now that the night’s adrenaline has begun to wane. He glances down at his shoes—still damp and stained. With a resigned sigh, he makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag. He slips the shoes inside, tying the bag tightly before heading outside. The cold air bites at his skin as he steps toward the dumpster behind his building.

He stands there for a moment, holding the bag. The sight of the shoes, oddly enough, makes him smile. It’s ridiculous, he knows. They’re just shoes. Ruined, stained, completely unsalvageable. But they’re also a reminder of tonight—a reminder of how he’d taken care of you, how you’d let him take care of you. 

With a soft thud, the bag lands in the dumpster. Spencer dusts off his hands, turning back toward the building. When Spencer steps back into his apartment, the soft hum of the heater greets him, a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting inside. And there you are, standing in his shirt in the doorway of his bedroom. Spencer thinks it's a sight he'll never get tired of.

There's a pout tugging at your lips. “Where’d you go?” you ask, your voice thick with sleep and just a hint of a whine.

“Had to throw out the shoes angel,” he says as he steps into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Your gasp is exaggerated like he’s just committed an unspeakable betrayal. “I thought I told you I’d wash them!” you exclaim, your voice rising. 

“And I thought I tucked you into bed,” Spencer counters, his laugh soft and full of affection. “Why are you out of bed sweetheart?”

You shuffle closer, blinking up at him with drowsy eyes. “Missed you,” you say simply, your earlier outrage regarding the shoes already forgotten. “Wanna cuddle.”

Spencer’s expression softens, but he gestures to his clothes. “I’m dirty,” he reminds you gently, “Outside clothes, remember?”

“Change then,” you reply stubbornly, tugging at his sleeve as though that’s the simplest solution in the world.

“I need to shower first,” he says, his voice patient as he begins to guide you back toward the bedroom.

“I didn’t shower either,” you argue, leaning heavily into his side as though that somehow strengthens your case.

“Because you’re drunk,” he replies with a small smile.

“Am not,” you insist, though your tone is far from convincing.

“Wanna tell that to my shoes?” Spencer teases, raising a brow.

You ignore him, brushing past his comment with a huff. “You’ll take too long,” you complain, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you too,” he replies, his voice tinged with amusement as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then cuddle,” you plead, your tone slipping into that sing-song quality you know he can’t resist. “Pleaseee”

Spencer hesitates, the logical part of him warring with the sight of you—soft, vulnerable, and looking at him like he hung the stars. He knows you’re usually the enforcer of the outside-clothes rule, a stickler for order when sober. But right now, you’re anything but sober, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you.

“Pleaseee,” you say again, drawing out the word for emphasis, “I’ll buy you new shoes,” your eyes wide and imploring.

He knows you probably will.

“Enough about the shoes,” Spencer rolls his eyes fighting back a smirk, “Just help me change the sheets tomorrow,” he relents, his voice warm with affection.

He knows you probably won’t. But he lets you drag him toward the bed anyways.

You beam, looping your arms around his waist in triumph. “Knew you wouldn’t say no,” you mumble into his chest.

Spencer laughs softly as you settle against him, burying your face in his chest with a soft, muffled sigh. He feels his heart swell in a way he can’t quite put into words. He’s never been one for mess—for dirt, grime, or anything out of place. Heck, he hadn't even wanted to shake your hand the first time he met you. It’s in his nature to keep things neat, orderly, clean. But now, with you?

His shoes could be ruined, his clothes crumpled, and the night an absolute whirlwind. And still, all he can think about is how peaceful you look now, your eyelids fluttering shut as sleep starts to claim you.

Spencer presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles along your back.

For you and only you, he thinks, he’d make an exception every time.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[cowboymarcs]

rough

joel miller x fem!reader

summary: jackson had made joel soft, and while you delighted in the domesticity of it all, some small, shameful part of you missed how hard he fucked you when the world was ending.

warnings: smut, piv, rough (but consensual) sex, choking, face slapping, daddy kink, dom!joel, name calling, unedited (i'm sorry), you are responsible for the media that you consume.

word count: 1.4k

joel miller’s rough, calloused hands only softened as he spent more time in jackson. his shoulders began to relax, losing the tension of years spent on the road. habits of checking his six and his hand hovering over the strap of his rifle had been broken. joel miller, for better or worse, had become soft, and you loved it.

you loved the way he stroked your face gently while gazing at you. his brows no longer furrowed and angry, only easy. your heart warmed when he came home tired and achy from patrol, but not exhausted from trying to survive. you loved this part of him, you truly did… but some small, shameful part of you missed his roughness. 

the rough, fast fucks that the two of you had to squeeze in here and there, his hard demeaner and hoarse voice. you missed the way he would fiercely bite hickies into your neck. you missed the way he ‘used you’; longed for it even. but it felt wrong to miss it, to take for granted the happiness that jackson brought you. 

you watched joel now, sipping on his drink across the bar, chatting with one of tommy’s friends. his eyes met yours, asking a silent question. want me to take you home? you downed the rest of your drink in answer, striding across the bar and looping an arm through his, fingers resting on his strong bicep. 

“gonna take the lady home,” joel excused himself, “nice talking to you.” the man nodded and raised his glass. you waved before turning towards your man. 

“you enjoying yourself, darlin’?”

“never been better,” you replied honestly, laying your head against his shoulder, and hugging his arm tighter. 

the walk home felt too long, your blood thrumming with need the closer you got to the house. your mind began to wonder, daydreaming of thoughts of joel fucking you rough from behind, smushing your face down into the mattress and whispering nasty words into your ear. 

“you alright, sweet thing?”

“huh? oh, yes i’m good.” his words had brought you out of your daze, making you realize you stood in front of the door to your home. he opened the door for you, following you in. as the two of you got ready for bed, doing your respective nightly routines, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to your fantasies. 

fantasies of his thick hands around your throat, hips snapping against yours. your panties seemed to dampen. you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to find the confidence to ask joel to fulfill those particular fantasies. you tiptoed into the bedroom, finding joel lying on his back, arm draped lazily over his eyes. he wore only his boxers, showing off his broad shoulders and hair that trailed down his tummy. 

“joel?” you whispered, standing awkwardly in the doorway. he sat up, sensing your apprehension. 

“what’s wrong, darlin’?” you opened your mouth and closed it a few times, not sure how to say that yes, you loved the sex you were having now, but you missed how hard he fucked you when the world was ending. “c’mon, spit it out.”

“i miss having rough sex with you, joel.” a weight lifted off your chest at the confession. 

“that’s all? well you could’ve just said that, sweetheart. no use in gettin’ all worked up over nothin’.” he motioned for you to join him on the bed and raised a frisky eyebrow. “i’d fuck you into next week if you wanted me to.”

you chuckled at his playfulness before looking at him again, earnestness in your eyes. “that’s not all i want, joel… i-i want you to hit me.” 

he cleared his throat and leaned back an inch. he was taken by surprise, and rightfully so. while the two of you had dabbled in choking and spanking, the thought of hitting you - hurting you had never crossed his mind. 

“oh,” was all he muttered. 

“i understand if you don't want to,” you began to babble before he shushed you. 

“it’s not that i don’t want to… i just want you to be completely sure that this is what you want. i would never want to hurt you, darlin’.” he brushed a stray hair from your face before kissing you tenderly. you welcomed the kiss by grabbing his curls and pulling him as close as he could possibly get. 

“you could never hurt me, joel.” he groaned at your words before laying you down and caging you in with his arms. you could feel him harden against your core. his kisses became feverish, tongue diving into your mouth to taste your wet heat. you pulled away, looking into his soft, brown eyes. “i want this, joel, more than anything. i want you to use me.”

joel’s eyes immediately darkened, reminded of the ways he used to fuck you when you two were on the run. the way you used to scream his name and beg for his mercy in bed. he looked at you now, ready to take him fully, eyes wide and pussy wet. 

“stop me if it hurts.” it was all he said before he tore your panties off. he scrambled to push his boxers down, fiending for a release. he grabbed his cock, sliding his head through your wetness, spreading your juices all over his cock. 

“you don’t even need any prep, huh? all wet and ready for daddy?” you nodded fiercely, praying that joel would push into you any second. you whined as he kept playing with your pussy. “so needy, huh sweetheart? daddy’s not gonna go any quicker unless you ask nicely.”

the head of his thick cock brushed swiftly over your aching clit, making you jump. you threw your head back, relishing in the anticipation, the tension, the buzzing need to have joel’s cock inside of you and his coarse hands controlling you. 

“please joel, please,” you panted, hands running down his chest, fingers scratching him slightly, “i need you to fuck me, baby.”

“well since you’re bein’ such a good girl for me i suppose we can make that happen.” he pushed into you in one fell swoop, his thick, hard girth pressing into your wet cunt. your moan that was released from you was obscene and absurdly loud. joel set a fast pace, giving your body no time to adjust to his size. the burn of him stretching you out mixed with the pleasure of his head hitting your g-spot filled your vision with stars. 

your moans invigorated him, his hands grabbing at your full tits and squeezing them before leaning down and nipping at them. his mouth sucked at the skin of your tits, biting and marking them as his own. his hands left the warm skin of your tits, making you mewl at the loss of contact, only for joel’s hands to find your calves, and folding you in half. your legs resting on his shoulders, his cock plunging deeper inside of you. your whines and joel’s respective grunts filled the room along with the intense, lewd slapping of his balls against your backside. 

“j-joel!” you sputtered out. his eyes darkened and you knew it was coming - your pussy clenched at the thought.

joel raised his hand over the two of you and brought it down, slapping you across your face. the sting reverberated through your bones and the pleasure traveled all the way to your cunt that was squelching around his cock. his hand, now wrapping around your throat, brought you close to his face. your lips were ghosting his, his breath dancing upon yours. there were tears of pleasure in your eyes. 

“that’s not my fuckin’ name,” he gritted out, still fucking you at his rapid pace. you realized what game he was playing.

“i’m sorry, daddy. i’ll be good, i promise,” you pleaded. a small smirk found joel’s face; he was satisfied with your reply. he pounded into you, chasing his release. you could focus on nothing but the delicious feel of his cock thrusting into you, and the crazed look in his eyes that you missed so fondly. he began to thrust rapidly, desperate to fill you up with his seed. 

“yeah thats right, baby, clenching around daddy’s cock like the whore you are,” he spat. you let out an involuntary moan at his harsh words, pussy gushing. 

his hips stuttered, releasing his hot cum into you. he grunted in relief, hand that was squeezed around your neck releasing and petting your face gently. his softness had returned. you felt his cock pull out of you, causing a groan to leave your mouth. 

“is that what you wanted, darlin’?”

“that was perfect, joel, thank you.”

joel smiled, lifting off of you to fetch you a glass of water and a new pair of panties for bed. 

[kaiser1ns]

#. NOTHING EVEN MATTERS

featuring 𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff. you had one more week with sae before he left for spain and it was those moments that you both would miss very much.

For as long as you can remember, you've always been with the Itoshi brothers—from the moment you woke up to play football and get popsicles, to when your mom tucked all of you under the soft blanket that Rin always stole for himself, leaving you and Sae to cuddle together under a separate one.

Now, years later, not much had changed.

The three of you squeezed into the small bed, the room was dark except for the faint moonlight seeping through the curtains. Rin was already knocked out, sprawled out like he owned the bed, occasionally letting soft snores. Meanwhile, you lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

"If I score a goal against you tomorrow..." you whispered, not wanting to wake the younger sibling. But knowing him, he was probably too deep in his dreams to notice. You turned your gaze toward Sae, to your embarrassment, he was already watching you, his teal eyes shining as you felt your cheeks heat up and were grateful that it was dark. "Would you stay here instead of going to Spain?"

Sae sighed, you’d asked him this before, countless times. He didn’t answer immediately, knowing how much you wanted him to stay. And honestly, a part of him didn’t want to leave either. But his dreams were calling him, even if it meant leaving you and his brother behind.

He remembered how you'd tried to score a goal, how he always held your hand afterward and led you to the beach as you munched on the icy popsicles. He always let you win the stick game, grinning when you got another sweet treat as he sulked. This was the day you kissed his cheek, confessing that you liked him and would miss him more than anything.

“I won’t be gone forever, you know,” he said softly, shifting under the covers, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. His fingers brushed against your hair, and you felt his lips press a gentle kiss there. "Why don't you move to Spain instead?" His question was sudden, and you blinked up at him in surprise. He wasn’t serious, was he?

"At thirteen?" you whispered back, trying not to laugh. "I don't think that’s an option." You couldn’t just pack up and follow him to another country. But a part of you desperately wished you could.

Sae smiled, a rare and precious smile that you are going to remember forever. “Doesn’t matter how old you are. If you’re with me, nothing else matters.”

You wanted to respond, to tell him that you’d follow him anywhere if it were possible.

"Don’t think too much,” he murmured, his voice soft against your hair. “You’re going to beat me tomorrow, right? So stop worrying about Spain.”

The warmth of his arms, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and the soft rumble of his voice lulled you into joining Rin in Dreamland. Without realizing it, you drifted off to sleep against him. Sae noticed immediately, his gaze softening as he looked at your peaceful expression.

He chuckled, his chest rising and falling beneath your head. "I like you too..." he murmured to himself, though he made no effort to move you. His eyes drifted to the creaky bed that somehow still held the three of you after all these years. How hasn’t this thing broken yet?

But in the end, it didn’t matter. Because the world stops when he puts his arms around you. As long as he could hold you close, even for a little while longer, he promised himself that no matter how far he went, no matter where life took him, you would always have a special place in his heart.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[whatifitis]

♡ Wickedly Amazing - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando is stressed and working all day so during his 15 min break, you decide to stress him out even more 😍

Author's Note: this is complete ass, i wrote it in 1 hr, feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 970

CW: fluff, my love for wicked the musical, lando matching girlies freak (i think)

Lando had been spending the whole day in meetings via zoom and to say you were bored was an understatement. You had already cleaned the whole apartment, sent some work emails, and read half your book. You missed Lando, even though he was less than 5 feet away. 

Lando had meeting after meeting and they lasted hours. You really only got to see him when you brought him water and food, just sliding it next to him to stay out of frame of the camera and not distract him. 

But Lando was about to have a 15 min break before his next, and hopefully final, meeting of the day. You took it upon yourself to annoy him in your usual fashion, and try and help him destress him a bit by possibly stressing him out. 

While Lan was wrapping up the meeting, you quietly set up a chair behind him and out of frame. You wrapped a throw blanket around your neck and had a broom in hand. As soon as you heard Lando say goodbye and leave the session, you played Defying Gravity on the speakers. 

As soon as the music started, Lando nearly threw his phone into the hair from the abruptly broken silence. He turns in his seat to see you walk around the corner, playing both Elphaba and Glinda’s bits in the song. 

The smile and amusement on his face was what you did these things for. You loved his smile, even more when he truly was happy and when you were the one making it happen. His smile was so wide and the corners of his eyes crinkled with the bridge of his nose. 

As you kept singing, he was cheering you on with some whistles, fist pumps and “that’s my girl”’s. You walked around the room putting on the performance of a lifetime. 

The bridge was coming up and this was your moment to truly blow away the audience (Lando). 

You made your way to the chair you had set up earlier and stood on top of it, shouting about how soon you’d watch them in renown. You threw your cape back to emphasize the imaginary wind blowing up, holding your broom close to you as you prepare to belt your heart out. 

Lando watched in awe through your whole performance. If anyone asked him about your singing, he’d say it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. Whether you were singing Defying Gravity or 22,  he loved it. He thought you were one of, if not the best, singers in the world. That your talent blew the competition out of the water. It wasn’t often that he got to listen to your singing, so the few times he was able to, he savored every second of it. 

But of course, he couldn’t let you have all the fun. As you belted and approached the final riff, Lando took it upon himself to become a part of the ensemble. He stood up from his seat and raced to kneel before you, slowly lying on the ground and singing along to the backing vocals of the song. 

He watched as you successfully attempted Cynthia Erivo’s rift, not being able to hide the smile that is plastered on his face. 

As the song ends, silence fills the room, only the sounds of the two of you trying to catch your breaths can be heard. You drop the broom and step down from your chair, looking at Lando who is now laying flat on the floor as if he was the one carrying that performance on his back.

He clearly wasn’t moving anytime soon so you decided to join him on the floor, falling onto him and resting your head on his chest, listening to his heart as it slows. You feel Lan wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and feeling him kiss your head. 

Lan unties the blanket from around your neck and wraps the blanket around the two of you, wanting to relax for the next few minutes with his favorite person. “That was amazing,” he says. 

“Would you say it was… wickedly amazing?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him, trying to supress your smile a bit. 

“Oh shut up.” he laughs, feeling you let out a few giggles as well. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, looking up at him, your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“For a lot of things. But mainly for being here, and making me laugh and making me happy.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just here, trying my best. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, thanks to you. I genuinely wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve been here through all my bullshit. I was rude as fuck at times, but you still stayed. I don’t know how I could ever repay you and how much it means to me.” Lan confesses, softly rubbing his thumb along your cheek. 

You move to hover over him, resting on your elbow, “You really don’t have to thank me, Lan. I do all of this because I love you. I do everything for you because I care about you. You’re my favorite person in the world and there’s no one I would rather sing with. I want to spend the rest of my silly little life with you, right by your side.”

“I love you.” “I love you.”

You move to capture Lando’s lips in yours. It’s slow and gentle, feeling him relax as you hold the side of his face with your hand. His lips feel warm against yours and he never wants to forget this feeling, of feeling so safe and happy and like he’s truly loved. He never wants to let you go. You’re his girl. His person.

[cumtastiics]

EMPTY PROMISES / prequel. ft. g/n reader + batfam #TW :: death (of reader's mother!), neglect :p

LET'S READ SOME MORE! prequel (here) ch. 1 2 3

your mother was the most important person in your world. she was everything you knew—your protector, your comfort, the one who made you feel safe and loved. she was the heart of your home, the one you could always count on.

and she still is, in a way. the memories of her remain, haunting and bittersweet, lingering in your thoughts like a shadow that follows you everywhere.

but she isn’t in this world anymore. she’s gone, taken too soon.

you still remember the day, you were just a child then, still small and innocent, walking home from elementary school.

when you opened the door, the stench hit you immediately—a putrid, acrid smell that seemed to seep into your very bones. it was overpowering, filling your nostrils and choking your breath. for a moment, you stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. the smell was so strong, so overwhelming, that it made your stomach churn and your chest tighten. something was terribly wrong, but your young mind couldn’t process it.

“mama?” you called out, your voice soft and uncertain. it wasn’t like her to not greet you when you came home. she was always there, waiting, ready to give you a hug, to ask about your day. 

but that day, something felt different. something felt terribly wrong.

“mama? i’m back home,” you called again, a little louder this time, though still hesitant. but no answer came, and that silence, that unbearable quiet, was more terrifying than any sound. 

you stood at the door, unsure whether you should step inside or run away. the house was eerily still. it wasn’t like your mother to not respond, to not be there. but then, as you stepped further into the house, you saw it—her.

your mother was there, but not the way you expected. 

there, on the floor, she lay in a pool of blood, lifeless, her eyes vacant and empty. the sight was more horrific than anything you could have ever imagined. you couldn’t understand it, not fully. she was the one who held you when you cried, who kissed your forehead at night and tucked you in. how could she be... gone? 

the blood that surrounded her was thick and dark, a stark contrast to the softness of the home she had always made for you. the horror of what you saw was too much for a child your age to process. you had never even heard of such things happening.

it was the kind of image that no child should ever have to witness—the kind of pain that no one should ever have to endure. and yet, it was the memory that would define you, the moment that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

the world you lived in, the one that had revolved around your mother would never be the same.

it wasn’t long after that till bruce took you in. 

he was different from your mother, he was straight-forward, and hardly spoke to you. maybe it was the first week only where he had bothered to make any effort to speak with you, but after that he stopped.

from his point of view, he never forgot about you, he was just… busy. busy is the word.

from your point of view, it was obvious neglect. you had tried to stay positive, but it was hard. alfred would tell you that bruce was busy, and surely he’ll make time for you.

he wasn’t right.

you learned at an early age that promises in the manor that were made, were almost always broken ones.

you learned that promises, no matter how sweet and caring they may sound, were just words. 

meaningless, stupid words. 

you would sit in your room, wondering if bruce would talk to you today. alfred, with his kind eyes and patient nature, would bring you meals and check in on you occasionally. he was the closest thing to a father figure you had now, but even he couldn’t fill the space your mother had left behind.

the manor almost always quiet, or at least the empty part your bedroom was a part of, was. that was, till jason died.

the manor was almost a mourning place, full of regret. 

it was then, when bruce and the rest of them, who barely knew a thing about you, forgot you.

a/n: zooweemama i let my friend read draft and she kept making mama a girl behind you jokes

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