#like. i knew you when you were just a little thing and you could fit in the palm of my hand. you smelled bad and were hungry and underfed

[pedropascallovebot]

Challenging

Luigi Mangione x reader

✧˖°.

a/n: i do my fanfic writing on ao3 now- including ceo killer smut, but i saw that blindfold video and i knew what i had to do and i knew the tumblr girlies were the crowd for this. i'm so sorry i don't know which depraved part of my brain this came from it just happened

cw: blindfolding, edging, author whipping her head back and forth as luigi and reader go back and forth on who the hell is the dom here

⋆˙⟡

It had started off as a joke, really.

Well, no- not a joke. When you quietly told your boyfriend you'd thought he looked "bite-able" in that blindfold, you had said so with a laugh to give yourself the excuse of being totally joking if he wasn't down to let you try the whole concept out in the privacy of his bedroom.

It normally would've been disappointing to leave your friend group's get-together so early- after all, you had movies and drinks planned, but wouldn't you know; an hour after your innocent comment in his ear, your neighbor coincidentally needed a ride to the hospital. Crazy how these things work out.

No, it was not disappointment you felt this time. An all too familiar sensation built between your thighs when his hand gripped the steering wheel, driving a little too fast back home.

You had almost asked your friend for the blindfold, but then you would of had to hear her ask why you'd need one when you were going to drop your neighbor off at the hospital, and you figured it'd be easier to just make do with something from your closet. Which you would- your brain was already brewing with ideas of different scraps of fabric you could use as a makeshift blindfold.

Back to your current predicament: soaking through your underwear, Luigi's fingers the star of the show you're playing in your mind as he drives you both home, and the bulge in his jeans.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he smirks, and then he's dragging his free hand that's not operating a moving vehicle up your thigh. Your breath hitches as he runs a thumb gently over the fabric covering your skin.

You stay silent, because if you speak you might just break immediately and beg for him to pull over and fuck you stupid on the side of the road.

He hmphs, delivering a firm smack to your thigh, and you let out a whimper at the stinging.

Luigi is normally a very safe driver, but it is nothing short of an absolute miracle that there were no cops out on the road to pull him over for a speeding ticket. It feels like you're parking and pulling out your apartment keys before the stinging sensation stops lingering.

You both say hello to your neighbor and his dog, about to go on a walk, and then shut the door.

"He looks remarkably well for someone needing to go the hospital," you joke, reaching your hands up to thread your fingers through Luigi's curls.

He leans into your touch, pinning you against the wall by the door in the process. This leads to your mouth being absolutely devoured by his own; your boyfriend is kissing you so desperately that when you pull away, a whine releasing from the back of his throat.

That blue checkered shirt, while fitting him exceptionally well, is unbuttoned and abandoned on the floor before you even drag him to the bed, wasting no time turning on any light except the bare minimum to see his shaking hands and achingly hard dick straining in his pants.

Pushing him down on the bed, you climb in on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his shoulders down so his head meets the pillow. His arms go to find the hem of your own shirt, assisting you in pulling it off and then reaching to get the rest of your clothes off.

When the both of you are left in your underwear, your wetness is more prominent to Luigi, and he takes a breath, going to reach to help you out, but you're off his lap and hurrying to your closet.

"Baby," he mutters, his hand going to rest over his boxers.

Bingo. An old scarf- or, to better describe it, the idea of a scarf, because you had started crocheting it and then just never finished. However, it was perfect for the debauchery you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" you asked sweetly, stalking over to him and slowly climbing back on the bed to resume your position. "What can I do to help you out?"

You take his hand off his bulge, resting it on his side, and he shifts, his breath deepening.

"Need you so bad, please," he mutters. You drop the scarf while you place kisses down his jawline, eventually making your way to his ear.

"Lay back for me."

He obeys.

Luigi's eyes drop to the scarf, a smile building in the corners of his mouth makes you blush. There's no way you'll be able to keep your composure and not let him fuck your brains out, but you gotta keep it together long enough that you can get your boyfriend whining and moaning for your touch. You press another kiss to his lips, and tie the blindfold around his head, securing it in the back before ruffling his hair and grabbing his chin with your fingers.

"Not that you would know, but every single girl there was staring at you with that blindfold on," you remarked, your other hand running down his chest.

"Is someone j-" Luigi's voice falters when your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, tracing over them.

"Hmm?"

You continue running your fingers over the skin, not bothering to take the fabric off until he can manage to form some words for you.

"If you were j- fuck- if you were jealous, you hid it very well," he says, hips raising so you can slide off his boxers.

Not jealous. Maybe a little annoyed, sure. But those girls were back there, and you were right here, with Luigi on your bed, your name falling from his lips, begging you to touch him.

"Or maybe that's why you were practically in my lap afterwards, huh?" he continues. "Wanting to show everyone there that I'm yours? Don't wanna share me?"

You're the one on top, you remind yourself so you don't melt in his hand and let him roll over to pin you down on the sheets. You look down at his dick, hard and standing at attention, waiting to be dipped into your warm, wet pussy.

Not yet. Not yet.

You move your mouth back down to his neck, right behind his ear, and bite down lightly.

Luigi gasps, but you quickly shush him and repeat the action on the other side of his face, a little harder this time.

"I told you I wanted to bite you," you admit, smirking when he throws his head back at the soothing kisses you leave over the teeth marks.

He twitches when your thumb finally runs over the tip, hands fidgeting at his sides. You watch his mouth open and close when you gather some of the precum, spreading it all over his length.

Breathtaking. He's truly the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

You feel more wetness gather between your thighs when you look at how hard he is, and how muscular his thighs are, and how you'd love to lower yourself on to him and take what you wanted. Instead, you wrap your fingers around him, pumping the length until his hands go to grab your waist.

You freeze, and Luigi whines again, bucking his hips up into your hand.

"Did I tell you that you could move, baby?" you scold him again, your free hand grabbing the nape of his neck, moving your lips closer to his. When he doesn't answer, you ask again.

"No- no, you didn't, fuck- baby, baby please keep going-"

Luigi's voice grows more desperate, filling you with a high that feels intoxicating. His precum soaks your fingers, his breath shaky- you want him so bad. Patience is becoming an unbelievably challenging attribute.

"Be a good boy and keep your hands to your side," you order.

He does. You watch the way his face contorts as you make him feel good, reveling in his moans. You continue stroking him until his whines get to a higher pitch, until he's involuntarily thrusting up into your hand.

You don't think you've ever been this wet.

When you know he's about to cum, you slowly pull your fingers away, licking all the precum off of them.

"No-" he protested, squirming and gripping the sheets so he doesn't reach and finish the job for you. "I was good- please- I wanna cum so bad, please."

You run your thumb over his cheek, tutting at the desperation in his voice.

"Maybe if you sit still, I'll think about it."

Maybe your newfound confidence is due to your own overwhelming urge to orgasm. Hearing him fall apart under you like this certainly helps as well. You adjust yourself in his lap, gripping his arms to support yourself in your quest to get a bit more comfortable, and then you pull of your own underwear.

However, you don't slide him inside you. Your own fingers go to run up and down your slit, and you sigh at how wet you are. It's incredibly tempting to use them to get yourself off, but knowing that Luigi's are right in front of you makes yours worthless by comparison. So you opt for grinding your pussy against his thigh, coating it in your slick.

You take a breath when you hit just the right spot, and you don't even say anything when your boyfriends hand shoots out to your waist to stabilize you and guide your body.

He whimpers when you grip his shoulders, quickening your pace as you use his thigh. Any other thought that wasn't about cumming like this was out the window, and it didn't help Luigi was coaxing it out of you, cursing and whimpering for him to let him help you out, for you to just take his blindfold off-

You snap back into reality before you finish, and with every single ounce of self-control you can muster, you pull yourself back.

Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you collect the wetness that's dripping out of you and bring it to Luigi's lips.

"Open," you command, and he eagerly takes your digits in his mouth, licking them clean and whimpering at how good you tasted.

It will be a cold day in hell before you forget that vision: him blindfolded, hand gripping your wrist and sucking on your fingers like it was candy.

You tug his hands back down to his side, ordering for him to keep them there, but he speaks up.

"Please, I need to feel you," he cries, squirming underneath.

You find a little bit of sympathy for him, because he asked so nicely.

So you only bring him to the edge one more time, as opposed to your original plan. He's trembling underneath you, whines and whimpers tumbling out of his mouth when you pull away again right before he cums, but you go back down again, this time with your mouth.

Luigi fucking sobs, hands pawing at the sheets and your hair and everywhere he can reach as you take all of him in, licking and bobbing your head up and down.

When he cums, it's everywhere. You think you have most of it in your mouth, swallowing it with the feeling of absolute ecstasy running through your body, but it's on his stomach, on yours, in your hair..

"You should see yourself, Lu," you tease, collecting the white off his chest and licking your fingers clean.

He doesn't respond for a minute, too out of breath. When he finally comes back around, he lets out a relieved sigh.

"Was the blindfold really that arousing?" he half-joked, rubbing his forehead and getting a little bit of cum on the edge of the scarf still tied around his eyes.

You shake your head yes, but then realize he still can't see you. When you go to answer him verbally, he starts again.

"Take it off me," he orders quietly, and you know you're about to get it.

When you finally let him have a look at you, he smirks.

"There you are."

He looks so angelic laying there, that you almost forget you haven't finished yet, and there's an ache between your legs that's begging to be quelled.

"Let's get this thing off you," he continues, taking the bra that you hadn't bothered to remove before and discarding it on the floor.

Luigi scoots you closer up his body, and you realize where he's going with this.

"Baby-" you plead, whimpering when his hands dig a little too hard into your hips. He smiles innocently up at you, the same kind of smile you gave him before blindfolding him and ruining his orgasms.

"M'just gonna make you feel good," he mumbles, and you gasp when he pulls you up onto his face. "Be a good girl for me."

[blackgirlsloveburrow]

NSFW 18+

i really need a fic of this bad and i am not a good writer at alllll. okay just imagine with me real quick. also this is completely imaginative don’t come for me lol

!jealous joe !bengals fan bf !cheating

your boyfriend is a really big bengals fan. i mean has so much bengals memorabilia, friends and family love the bengals. he even grew up in the good old land of chili cheese coneys and graeters ice cream. well you never really were into football. it was kinda boring, kinda long, and could have your boyfriend in a sucky mood the whole day.

until…

you saw him.

joe burrow. he’s gorgeous, humble, and is so passionate about the game and his team. you were obsessed. so when your boyfriend one day invited you to an event where you may be able to meet him and have him sign something, you said yes.

you didn’t really have bengals merchandise at the time, so you borrowed your boyfriend’s bengals hat and scarf, and just wore a black outfit to match. you were standing at the fence, waiting for the team to come out to practice. you felt kinda antsy. you really hoped you would be able to meet joe. all of a sudden him and his team came out and everyone started screaming to get his attention. joe was signing jerseys and footballs. it was all a bit overwhelming. he got to you and your boyfriend, and did a double take a bit. your boyfriend was asking him to sign his poster, which he did, and you took out a little notebook. he smiled and looked you in the eye. your boyfriend didn’t notice this as he was already facetiming his friends about his interaction. joe didn’t give you his regular signature, but rather, wrote his name legibly and his phone number right underneath.

your eyes went wide. he laughed and headed to practice.

you went home and laid in bed. it was about 9 pm and you were still staring at the number. you decided not to tell anyone, as you didn’t want joe’s privacy to feel invaded. you put the number into your phone and texted him.

“hi. is this joe burrow? i am y/n. we met earlier today at your practice”.

he immediately texted back, you kinda freaked out.

“hey this is joe. it was nice to meet you earlier, y/n. your bengals hat was cute”.

you screamed into your pillow. you texted back.

“thank you! it wasn’t mine cause im just kind of getting into football haha”. you cringed at yourself, not really knowing how to respond.

“well, maybe i can teach you a few things sometime. maybe you can come to my house?”.

flash forward a few weeks later, you’re in joe burrow’s lap, with an oversized bengals jersey on and no pants, in his huge living room.

he’s kissing your neck and squeezing your ass, as he rocks you back and forth on his underwear clad dick. your phone is ringing on the coffee table. it’s your boyfriend.

“joe-“ you tried to say, but he’s trying to distract you with his tongue on your neck.

“joey!” you say exasperated. he pulls back and halts his movement.

“i gotta take this phone call”. he furrows his brows and looks to the side.

“you don’t even like him!” he responds, aggravated.

“i know, but i want to give him the news in a way where he won’t throw a fit. it’s not the right time” you respond.

here’s the thing about joe. he really likes you. ever since he gave you his number, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. he liked how interested you were in learning about him, whether it was about his football career, or who he was as a person. he didn’t care that you had a boyfriend, because he knew he wanted you.

but joe is a jealous guy. there’s only so much he can put up with. i mean, you’re sitting there in his lap, wearing HIS jersey. you have HIS hickeys on your neck, and your wetness is on his underwear. he’s not gonna put up with it anymore.

you’re on the phone saying hello as he pushes your back onto the couch. you had been making out for hours so you were fully ready for what was about to happen. your eyes grow wide at him as he takes your underwear off and pushes your knees to your shoulders. you’re so wet he audibly grunts.

“where are you at?” your boyfriend asks.

joe’s mouth is so close to your pussy it’s kinda hard to make up a lie.

“the grocery store?” you reply like you didn’t believe it yourself.

“oh okay cool”. he brushes it off. nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him as he only really wanted to rant to you about how the season is going so far with the bengals.

you let out a sigh and before you know it joe was sucking on your clit. you cover your mouth trying to avoid moaning on the phone, but joe removes your hand and holds it by your side. he’s licking long stripes up your hole to your clit, making you want to scream.

as good and toe curling joe’s mouth is, you’re able to keep some composure to keep the phone call normal. he’s still talking with no chance of stopping soon. you roll your eyes at the conversation and then see joe taking his underwear off. you can’t help but ogle. he’s longer than average and so so girthy. he always has to go slow putting it in so that you don’t go insane.

well he thinks you’re ready to go a little faster, and he’s desperate to be all the way in you.

your knees are still to your shoulders as he sticks his tip in. you bite your bottom lip hard as to not let out your moans. everything is fine.

until he puts himself all the way in in one swift motion, bottoming out in you. a moan escapes you.

“fuck you’re so tight” joe moans out.

your boyfriend catches on.

“what was that? are you at a guy’s house?”

you didn’t even have time to respond before joe is pounding into you hard and fast. his face is right above yours, and all you can do is moan. you drop the phone, not even caring because all you want is for joe to fuck you dumb.

“p-please daddy”. you have tears pricking the corners of your eyes. you don’t even know what you’re begging for, you just want him to keep fucking you.

“you like that baby? are you gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” he can feel you pulsating on his cock. he keeps hitting your g-spot.

“yes daddy i’m gonna cum” you grab the back of his head and he kisses you sloppily. you unravel beneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. he continues using you, chasing his own high.

he’s grunting. mumbling how good you feel.

“please cum in me daddy”. you start to feel yourself wanting to unravel again. he fucks you with deep long strokes, until finally he cums deep inside of you, letting out a long moan. you cum again too, tears streaking your face. he kisses you again. foreheads to each other, all you can hear is each others breathing. smiling at each other, until you hear something coming from the phone on the floor:

“WHAT THE FUCK”.

[ditzydoe444]

Bunny reader with Dick!? I think it would be so cute, reader being the sweetest thing gifted to Dick, and dick treating them like they wished to be !!

MDNI 18+

soft! dick grayson x bunny! reader

smutty

soft! dick x bunny!reader

dick would spoil you rotten. whatever you want, you will get, anything you touched at the store or briefly mentioned somehow will always end up in your hands. you were just the sweetest thing to ever appear in his life, how could he not spoil you? the way your eyes would light up, and how you jumped like a small bunny when you got your gifts was like heaven for him. he would pay for all your needs, hair appointments, clothes, nails, etc. he knew you cared about your looks, how you always wanted to have the perfect appearance, and how could he refrain you from doing that? because as a result, he got a cute little doll that was all pampered.

soft! dick x bunny!reader

dick would be so gentle and soft with you, always giving you forehead kisses just because he loves the way a faint dust of pink would appear on your cheeks, and how your nose will do the cutest scrunch. he would always be touching you, small gentle affectionate touches. these would include adjusting stray parts of your hair, straightening your tiny dresses, or gently caressing your shoulder. he knew you loved physical touch, and god he loved touching you, not just in the passionate intimate moments, but the small innocent ones. there was just something about you that made it impossible for him to keep his hands off you. whenever you would cook, he would have his arms around your waist, and you fitting snuggly against his broad chest whilst he gave you soft kisses on your shoulders.

soft! dick x bunny!reader

when going out drinking with his friends he would always check in on you, making sure you were doing ok. his hands were never far from your body, his strong arms wrapped around your waist. he would never make you stay longer than needed and was always ready to leave when you wanted. he would often tease you with how easily you got tipsy, he couldn’t resist poking your small red cheeks of yours. “don’t tell me you are already drunk now, bun,” dick teases. there was something about you being tipsy that was so endearing, the way you would shake your head insisting you weren’t drunk and how you would cling to him like a lost puppy when walking back to his truck.

soft! dick x bunny!reader

when going on dates he would go all out, he would always make the moments intimate and special with just the two of you. he would bring you your favourite bouquet of flowers, and take you to a small intimate restaurant. his hand would always gently rub the back of yours from across the table, and would listen to whatever you were rambling about. even though you had a habit of talking about literally everything, he would always pay attention, asking questions and making small comments to show that he cared.

soft! dick x bunny!reader

in bed he treated you like a princess, worshipping every inch of your body. he would give you soft kisses, whispering praises and how well you were doing taking him all in. “you’re doing great bun, just a few more inches yeah?” he made sure you were always the one coming first, giving you a minimum of two orgasms before letting himself come.

when you would ride him, he would hold on to your hips, whilst thrusting himself upwards to reduce your workload. “i’ve got you bun,” he reassured gently, he knew it wasn’t exactly your favourite position, but you knew that he loved watching you bounce on his cock. “you’re like my own little bunny,” he commented, the way you bounced on his cock eagerly was all too much, and how you would let out the most sinful moans were enough to make him fill your tight little cunt up.

but you giving him blowjobs was his favourite thing on the whole planet. the way you eagerly took him in your wet mouth whilst being on your knees staring at him through your lashes was too much. the way your hands couldn’t even encircle his whole cock made his mind go all fuzzy. he told himself to be gentle, to refrain from acting on his own desires, but god it took every ounce of self-control to not use your mouth as a fleshlight. usually, he would come in your mouth, gently fucking it to see his cum and your saliva mix and dribble down your chin. but the moment you suggested on coming in your face? god he nearly self-imploded. seeing how his cum coated your face and lashes was a goddamn sight, how you would give him the cheesiest smile with your eyes shut, due to his cum gluing your lashes down.

and of course he would reward you by eating you out, making you his favourite dessert.

[betsj]

Stress Is Bad For The Brain

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

🌷🧺*:･ warnings: smut, blowjobs, female reader, use of good girl and baby

🌷🧺*:･ summary: The Heart Pirates have been underwater for the longest. Trafalgar Law is stressed and he hasn’t been able to grab you at all… only quick grabs and make out sessions. After things settle more, you take the time to visit him in his office

🌷🧺*:･ im a fein for law.

He couldn’t take any more of this waiting. The little touches, kisses and smirks you gave him… it was too much.

If the crew—Bepo, Shachi, Penguin—any of them! Took you away from him one more time, he was going to teleport them into the ocean and drive away so he can fuck you all over the ship (of course he would go back and find them). It’s not like he would tell you this anyways but, yeah, that’s what he would do!

ׂ╰┈➤

Hearing your voice from outside his office. Bepo was also out there

“No honey, I just got to talk to the captain privately, okay?” Just hearing your voice made him hard… which was happening, “Shit.” He cursed under his breath. Bepo whined from the outside, “Aw okay…” Once the door shut, Law turned in his chair with his tattooed arms crossed.

You smiled at him, mumbling “Hey cap.”

In a harsh tone, he said “I’m working.”

Obviously, you knew that was a lie. Putting your arms behind your back and tilting your head, “Working with an erection?” Taking your pointer finger, pointing it out. Law felt his cheeks heat up, clearing his throat, “It can be handled later.” It was frustrating for you, he never wanted to admit how bad he wanted you.

Rolling your eyes and walking over to him and in a sultry tone, “C’mon Law… I know you want your cock in my mouth.” Running your index finger along his jaw, slowly sinking on to your knees. His breath hitched, looking into your eyes, that were pleading.

“Hm… you wanna be a good girl?” He stiffened when you began to unzip his pants. Mumbling, “Yes… I’ve been wanting your cum down my throat for so long.” All that big talk from your lover just for him to have shaky hands. Law groaned as you palmed the print, licking on the wet spot that his precum created. “Can I? I promise I’ll be a good girl and make you come.” And who was he to decline?

Throwing his boxers away as soon as they hit his ankles and finally letting his hard dick out. Your eyes looked like you were about to eat him alive… wrapping a hand around the thick shaft, slowly rubbing up and down. Multitasking, of course, your tongue ran between his slit which had more precum leaking, making Law’s legs shake.

“Oh fuuckk…” His strong hand played with your hair, “Please baby… make me cum.” Giggling, flattening the tip on your tongue before finally taking him all in.

A slow pace, it’s what Law loved, mainly when you were in control. In the situation, he would’ve preferred a quick throat-fuck but you made him feel so good. “God damn, baby, I forgot how good your dirty mouth felt.” Moaning, loving how he talked… he chuckled, “Yeah? You like being a good girl?” Nodding on his dick, beginning to pick up the pace, making Law’s jaw drop while letting out a moan.

Trafalgar Law isn’t a loud man in bed, maybe a few moans and groans in your ear sometimes but that’s it. So he must’ve been real desperate to be moaning like a teenage virgin.

Looking up through your eyelashes, beginning to jerk off the part you couldn’t fit. Law began thrusting into your mouth, “Oh god—yes, good girl, I’m so close.” Pushing the back of your head, making you gag. “Want me to come down that pretty throat?” Nodding, whining on his dick, he grinned… god was he wrecked. Messy hair, cheeks pink, mouth agape, and those bedroom eyes… “Or,” Moving some hair “Come on this pretty face?” Moaning… you couldn’t chose.

So you were gonna let him decided. You picked up the pace, letting him fuck your throat raw.

“Fu—fuck, yes, ple-“ Before he could even finish his sentence, he pushed your head down one more time before coming down your throat. Law let go of you, letting you calm down, removing his dick from your mouth. “Lemme see,” Law sat up, grabbing your chin with his thumb, making you open wide. Humming, “Good girl.” You wiggled, pushing him back into the chair and sitting on his lap. “Now I need you to fuck me…”

Law smirked, “God I love you.”

Rolling your eyes and smiling, “I know.”

“Glad you know I do because Ima fuck you like I don’t.”

last sentence was inspired by smb I follow 🫶

[concretejunglefm]

OMG Imagine being the designated cuddler for Bad Omens and Matt

The bands designated cuddler. Who knew that being a merch girl came with such perks?

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader.

CW: smut which includes cockwarming, unprotected sex (p in v), breeding kink mentions and dirty talk.

Names: fucktoy, cocksleeve, breeding bitch.

Smut under the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

It all started when Noah pulled you into his bunk one night after seeing him watching anime and asked if you could join. It had been innocent at first, with him making space for you, but with the space in the bunk being as small as it was, you were soon positioning yourselves to be spooning. Your body fit perfectly against Noah's chest with his arm loosely over your waist as you held up the phone for you both to continue watching.

"Know something that'll make this even better?" Noah leaned in and whispered against your ear.

You weren't sure what Noah's suggestion would be but you certainly didn't anticipate feeling him slipping down your pj shorts as well as his own boxers. The feeling of his cock along your cunt made you moan softly and he was quick to raise a hand to your mouth, covering it as he leaned in to breathe against the ear. "We need to be quiet." All you could do in response was nod as he pressed the tip of his cock between your slick folds, guiding himself slowly into your tight, wet cunt.

You instantly felt full and needy and while you attempted to rock against him, he held you firmly in place, pushing his fingers into your mouth with a simple instruction; "open and suck." You happily obliged as he remained balls deep inside your aching pussy, not moving or allowing you to.

The only sensation was you clenching around the thick of his shaft, while softly moaning around his fingers as your tongue circled them, making them as wet as possible. Each time you did this he would push his slender fingers further into your mouth as he murmured against your ear. "You're such a greedy little thing aren't you? You make the perfect little cocksleeve, I wonder if the others would want to share."

The only response you could make was another  muffled moan, the idea driving your eyes to roll back and your pussy to clench around him, something he easily noticed. "Oh, you like that? You want to be used by us all?" And you nodded your head slightly to the idea, the thought of them all filling you in their own way leading you to your attempt at rocking your hips once against him.

This time Noah allowed for it, his grip on you merely providing a means to keep you pressed close as he began to buck his own hips against you, driving his cock deeply. Each stroke of him between your tight walls sent a ripple of pleasure throughout your body, making you whine around his fingers while he continued his slew of dirty talk against the shell of your ear, moving his head down just enough to kiss and nip at the skin of your neck.

"You want to be used as a fucktoy? The bands own personal breeding bitch?"

There was another high pitched sound in your throat as you mumbled a 'please' around his fingers and when he pulled them from your mouth his hand moved down the front of you, into your shorts as he began toying with your clit, driving his hips harsher and faster.

"Then you're going to have to make me cum. You're going to have to prove yourself as a worthy fucktoy, show me how badly you want to be filled with my cum. With all our cum."

You caught the growl in his voice and a whimper left your own mouth as your hips rocked to meet him, slamming back against him, squeezing your walls tightly around his cock as he used you to reach his peak. Noah's fingers continued their skillful assault on your clit, playing with your sensitive nub until you felt yourself falling over the edge, trying desperately to hold back your moans as he fucked you through your orgasm until he was spilling his own deeply within you.

You were so delirious that when you finally came back down from your thigh, it was only then that your eyes widen with the realization you'd left the curtain to Noah's bunk wide open, being met with Matt who was in the bunk across from you, watching you both, a smirk already wide across his face and a hand down the front of his shorts, making a lazy stroking motion along his cock before he asked; "When's my turn with the new toy?"

[moriitis]

"The apple Adam wanted to eat."

Fem!Reader x Toby Rogers. NSFW. 18+.

Unfinished ramble I had. Nothing great.

Content/Warnings; oral sex.

There was a lot of things Toby could list when it came to loving you. As any romantic, any gentleman, he would say your smile and laughter first - or maybe the face you would make when you realize you messed something up. There were the crinkles by your eyes whenever you smiled, or the laugh line beside your lips when you shared a chuckle. Your scent when he took a deep inhale at the strands of your hair, perhaps even the softness of your hands. The man could sing and praise the many, little things he adored about you. The list was endless and he would happily stay up all night to read them out to you.

But deep down, there was nothing he loved more than your pretty, little pussy. The softness of the flesh, the different tones of pink and god, the taste of it alone could send that man spiralling. There was nothing he could do more than praise that delicate pussy of yours, the authority it held over him. A chokehold that could send him falling to his knees just to earn a taste of you. It turned him into nothing but a helpless, hungry dog.

So, when he got the privilege of spreading your legs and burying his nose into that sensitive bundle, he could swear all he saw were stars. A taste so sweet that it should be forbidden, the way his tongue almost fit every fold like a perfect puzzle piece. God forbid if he were Eve, because an apple that was so tempting, so sweet - he too, would not be able to hold himself back from taking a bite.

Toby wasted no time, eating that cunt like it were his last ever meal. The sloppy sounds that emerged from his mouth, the endless amount of saliva that dribbled and coated the stubble on his chin. No matter the position, no matter where or what time of day; he'd eat the shit out of you if you were to only utter a simple word. On his knees, if you were on your back, his hands would always be clamped around the flushness of your thighs. The filthy, dirty thoughts that clouded his mind as he lapped his tongue helplessly on your clit. The amount of places he'd love to put his cock - your mouth, in your aching cunt itself, between your thighs so he could fuck you endlessly or even the plumpness of your breasts. The idea of painting a pretty picture all over you with his cum alone, the idea of rubbing his thumb along your nipple with his hot seed, letting white ropes spread out on your tongue or better yet, filling you up enough that it comes seeping out your pretty, little pussy.

The matter at hand here, however, was how his tongue danced perfectly against your folds. Exploring every part he hadn't yet - savouring the taste and drinking you dry. The way his tongue would slide up between your slit, soaking in your taste, the feel, until he reached your clit and fuck did he suck that fucker good. Giving it just enough attention to make you gasp until his focus when back to your hole alone.

Eating you out was good, a gift from heaven itself but those noises you produced from your lips. The way you squirmed, wiggled against the grip he had on your hips. You always got so sensitive, even toward the build up and after your orgasm. He knew, he knew that you loved the way he would ravenously lick you high. It was the look, the way your fingers pulled at his hair or even the slight tremble in your breath. It drove him crazy, encouraged him in a way that shouldn't be encouraged.

yah this was unfinished, but i haven't produced anything in a couple days so eat up.

[cherryxbooo]

Most important part of my life

Summary: Pedri's secret relationship is tested by rumors with a new media colleague, leading him to publicly declare his love.

Reader x Pedri

Genre: fluff/angst

Being in love with Pedri González felt like cradling a secret so luminous, so extraordinary, that unveiling it to the world might scatter its magic like dandelion seeds caught in the wind.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was one of the most recognizable footballers in the world, gracing the pitch at Camp Nou with effortless grace.

It was the way he looked at me when we were alone, the quiet strength of his love, and the unspoken promise in his touch.

Our relationship grew like wildflowers in the shadows, away from the glaring lights of stadiums, the endless buzz of fans, and the relentless click of cameras desperate for a glimpse of his personal life.

When we first started dating, the decision to keep things private was mutual, though it came with layers of complexity.

Pedri had been upfront from the beginning.

"I want you to feel safe with me," he said one evening, his brown eyes searching mine for reassurance.

He wasn’t just asking for patience, he was offering me trust, a sanctuary in a world that rarely afforded him the same.

The privacy was liberating in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

We could wander hand-in-hand through unfamiliar streets in cities where Pedri’s face wasn’t plastered on billboards.

We could spend entire evenings tangled up on the couch watching old movies, his laughter filling the room as I teased him about his terrible popcorn-making skills.

In those quiet, unguarded moments, I discovered who he truly was, not just Pedri the footballer, but Pedri the person I fell in love with.

Still, keeping our love a secret wasn’t without its sacrifices.

There were nights when I longed to post a picture of us on social media, to scream to the world how much he meant to me.

But I knew the cost of such exposure.

Pedri’s life was a constant whirlwind of matches, media obligations, and the ceaseless adoration of fans who believed they knew him intimately.

I’d seen the toll it took on him, how even the smallest misstep could spark a wildfire of speculation.

Sometimes, being in love with him felt like standing at the edge of an untamed sea. His life was the tide, vast and unstoppable, threatening to pull me under if I wasn’t careful.

I remember one particularly tough evening when he was away on a grueling road trip, the distance between us amplified by the silence of my apartment.

I stared at my phone, scrolling through a sea of articles about him, wondering if I’d ever fit into his world.

But Pedri always had a way of grounding me.

He called late that night, his voice warm despite the exhaustion that laced his words.

"I miss you," he said simply. "You’re my calm, mi amor. Don’t forget that."

It wasn’t a grand declaration, it didn’t need to be.

It was enough to pull me back, to remind me that what we had wasn’t just a fleeting romance but something deeper, something worth navigating the storms for.

We had our own rituals, ways of carving out space for us amid the chaos.

Pedri loved to write little notes for me, tucking them in places he knew I’d find later: a pocket in my coat, the inside of a book I was reading.

Once, I found one on my bathroom mirror that simply said, "You’re my favorite part of every day."

It was these small acts of love, these intimate gestures, that made me feel like the luckiest person alive.

Who would've thought that footballers could be so romantic.

And yet, there were challenges I couldn’t ignore.

Being with Pedri meant learning to share him, not just with the fans who adored him, but with the game that consumed so much of his time and energy.

There were moments when I felt like a spectator, watching him shine while I stood in the shadows.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting sometimes, but then he’d find ways to remind me that I wasn’t an afterthought.

One evening, after a particularly intense match, we sat on his balcony overlooking the city.

The air was cool, the distant hum of Barcelona serving as our soundtrack.

Pedri reached for my hand and pulled me close.

"You know," he said softly, "everything I do out there, it’s for us. For this."

His words settled over me like a warm blanket, and in that moment, I knew that no amount of distance, scrutiny, or secrecy could diminish what we shared.

But that feeling didn't last for long...

It all began when FC Barcelona announced their newest hire, Valentina.

She was young, vibrant, and clearly eager to make her mark as the team’s new media coordinator.

Her job was to handle interviews, create social media content, and give fans a closer look at the players they adored.

At first, I didn’t think much of it.

Pedri had mentioned her in passing, a new addition to the team, someone he was helping adjust to the job.

I’d nodded, smiled, and asked a few polite questions, not giving it another thought.

But then the content started appearing.

At first, I convinced myself it didn’t matter.

Pedri was just being himself, kind, warm, and approachable.

It was part of what made him so magnetic, not just to me but to everyone around him.

This was the man I fell in love with, after all.

How could I fault him for being the very person who stole my heart?

But as the days turned into weeks and the “shipping” online intensified, I felt my confidence begin to waver.

It started subtly, like a shadow creeping into the edges of an otherwise sunny day.

A fan edit of Pedri and Valentina laughing during an interview would pop up on my feed, the caption declaring,

“The chemistry is undeniable!”

I’d roll my eyes and scroll past, telling myself it was harmless.

But the comments below were relentless.

"They’d be such a cute couple!""Honestly, Valentina and Pedri give me life!""Look at the way he’s smiling at her, come on, that’s love."

I’d catch myself staring at my screen, rereading the same comments as if the sting would lessen with repetition.

It didn’t.

Instead, it gnawed at me, a quiet whisper in the back of my mind that grew louder with every passing day.

The first time Pedri showed me one of the videos, I forced a smile, feigning indifference.

“Look at this,” he chuckled, holding up his phone.

“They’re making compilations of every time I’ve talked to the new media girl. Fans are wild.” (brother can't be this clueless omd)

I leaned over, barely glancing at the screen, and shrugged.

“Yeah, wild,” I muttered, keeping my tone neutral.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head to look at me.

“Of course,” I lied, standing up abruptly.

“I just remembered I need to finish something. Be right back.”

I didn’t meet his eyes as I left the room.

How could he not see the true intentions behind those edits? (ugh men smh)

The little things began piling up.

Each new fan theory, each edited clip, felt like a pebble being dropped into an already overflowing jar.

I told myself it was silly, irrational even, to feel this way.

After all, I knew the truth. Pedri loved me, not her.

But logic and emotions rarely danced in harmony.

It wasn’t just online, either.

At a recent game, a group of fans behind me had spent the entire first half discussing Valentina and Pedri.

“They’d be perfect together, don’t you think?” “She’s got that bubbly personality, and he’s so down-to-earth. Total power couple vibes.”

I gripped the edge of my seat tightly, my nails digging into the fabric. I wanted to turn around and scream,

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Instead, I stayed quiet, plastering on a strained smile for the rest of the match.

Back home, my silence began to speak louder than my words.

“Hey, how was your day?” Pedri asked one evening as we sat at the dinner table.

“Fine,” I replied, not looking up from my plate.

“Anything interesting happen?” he pressed, his tone light but curious.

“Not really,” I mumbled, shoving a forkful of pasta into my mouth to avoid elaborating.

Pedri frowned, setting down his fork.

“You’ve been quiet lately. Is something bothering you?”

I shook my head, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“Just tired. Long day.”

He nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push further.

Instead, he reached across the table to take my hand.

For a split second, I felt the warmth of his touch, the comfort it usually brought me.

But then I pulled away under the pretense of needing my water glass.

The hurt that flickered across his face was brief, but I saw it.

My chest tightened with guilt, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain.

One evening, the tension between us became unbearable.

We were sitting on the couch, a movie playing on the TV, but neither of us was paying attention.

Pedri’s hand rested on his thigh, close enough to mine that the absence of contact felt glaring.

Without warning, he paused the movie and turned to me.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent.

I stiffened, my heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been distant,” he said, his brows knitting together.

“You barely talk to me, you pull away when I touch you… something’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing,”

I replied too quickly, the tightness in my throat betraying me.

“It’s not nothing,” he countered, leaning closer.

“I know you, amor. Something’s bothering you, and I want to help. But I can’t if you won’t talk to me.”

I looked away, my gaze fixed on the coffee table.

“It’s stupid,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Then let me decide that,” he urged gently.

“Please.”

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat.

How could I explain something that felt so petty?

How could I tell him that seeing him with Valentina, innocent as it was, was eating away at me?

“I’m just tired,” I said finally, standing up before he could press further.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Wait—”

But I was already walking away, leaving him sitting there, confused and worried.

In the quiet of my room, I replayed the moment in my mind, hating myself for the walls I was building.

But as I scrolled through my phone later that night, another video of Pedri and Valentina popped up.

The comments filled with speculation and admiration for their supposed connection.

I turned off my phone, buried my face in my hands, and let the tears fall.

Not knowing it was about to become worse.

The next evening,

It started like any other evening.

I was curled up on the couch, scrolling through my phone, half-distracted and trying not to think too much about the growing distance between Pedri and me.

But then the headline caught my eye, bold and damning:

“Are Pedri and Valentina More Than Colleagues? Here’s What We Know.”

My thumb hesitated above the screen, my heart already sinking, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I clicked.

The page loaded, and my stomach twisted with every word I read. The article was a masterclass in speculation.

Blurry photos of Pedri and Valentina laughing together accompanied captions like,

“Too much chemistry to be just friends?”

A still from a video of her hand casually resting on his arm had the writer waxing poetic about

“intimate body language” and “the undeniable proof of a budding romance.”

Every word felt like a small dagger, but it was the comments that truly gutted me.

"I knew it! They’re perfect together!""Pedri deserves someone like her. She’s stunning and sweet!""Finally, the couple we’ve all been waiting for. #Pedritina"

My hands trembled as I set my phone down, but the damage was done.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

It didn’t matter that I knew the truth.

It didn’t matter that Pedri had never given me a reason to doubt him.

The narrative was there, glaring and insistent, and it felt like it was pulling him away from me, like I was losing him to a story that wasn’t even real.

That night, I couldn’t bear to look at him.

The weight of my emotions was too heavy, threatening to spill over if I let him get too close.

“Hey,” he greeted me warmly as he walked into the kitchen, where I was furiously scrubbing an already-clean countertop.

“What are you up to?”

“Just cleaning,” I said curtly, not turning to face him.

Pedri leaned against the counter, his eyes following my frantic movements.

“It’s nine at night,” he said with a soft laugh.

“The kitchen’s spotless mi amor. Come sit with me.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” I replied, my voice clipped.

He frowned slightly, stepping closer.

“You’ve been… acting different lately. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, still not meeting his gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

He reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped away, pretending to grab a dish towel.

“I’m sure,” I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for further questions.

Pedri watched me for a long moment, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Alright,” he said quietly, though his voice carried a hint of defeat.

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

I nodded but didn’t respond, and he left the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the unbearable ache in my chest.

I threw myself into meaningless tasks for the rest of the evening.

Folding laundry, reorganizing the spice cabinet, rearranging the books on the shelf, anything to keep my mind and hands busy.

But no matter what I did, the article and its comments haunted me, looping endlessly in my mind.

What made it worse was how vividly I could picture it all.

Pedri’s laughter as Valentina joked with him, the way he always leaned in when someone spoke, giving them his undivided attention.

I knew it was innocent.

I knew it was just who he was.

But knowing didn’t stop the jealousy and insecurity from creeping in, filling the cracks in my resolve.

By the time Pedri came to bed, I pretended to be asleep, my back turned to him.

He sighed softly as he slipped under the covers, and for a moment, I thought he might say something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the room fell into silence, broken only by the sound of his breathing as he drifted off.

I stayed awake long after, staring at the wall, tears slipping silently down my face.

For the first time in our relationship, I felt like I was losing him.

And the worst part? I didn’t know how to stop it.

The next day,

Meanwhile, Pedri was wrestling with his own frustrations.

The training session had wrapped up, but instead of heading to the showers with the others, he lingered in the locker room, sitting on the bench with his phone in hand.

His thumb hovered over the screen, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the strange tension between you two over the past few weeks.

Every clipped response, every missed kiss, every moment you pulled away lingered in his thoughts, gnawing at him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Yo, Pedri,” Ferran’s voice broke through the quiet, light and teasing as always.

He strolled in, a towel slung casually over his shoulder.

“Why do you look like someone stole your boots? You alright?”

Pedri looked up, his frown deepening.

“Not really,” he admitted, tossing his phone onto the bench beside him.

“It’s… Y/n. She’s been acting different. Distant.” He shook his head, as though trying to shake off the confusion.

“I don’t know what’s going on with her. I’ve tried asking, but she keeps saying she’s fine.”

Ferran raised a brow, a knowing look spreading across his face.

“Different how?”

“She barely talks to me anymore,” Pedri said, frustration clear in his voice.

“When we’re together, it’s like she’s somewhere else. I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

Ferran leaned against the locker, crossing his arms.

“You sure it’s something you did?”

“I don’t know,” Pedri muttered.

“Maybe? She’s never been like this before.”

Ferran hummed thoughtfully before his eyes lit up as if a lightbulb had gone off.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing something.

“What are you doing?” Pedri asked, sitting up straighter.

Ferran didn’t answer immediately, his focus on his screen.

Then he turned the phone around, holding it out for Pedri to see.

“You seen this yet?” Ferran asked, his tone cautious but pointed.

Pedri frowned and leaned closer, his gaze locking onto the screen.

It was an article, the bold headline instantly grabbing his attention:

“Are Pedri and Valentina More Than Colleagues? Here’s What We Know.”

“What is this?” Pedri asked, his tone sharp.

“Just read it,” Ferran said, handing him the phone.

Pedri swiped through the article, his jaw tightening with every word.

The photos, blurry snapshots of him and Valentina during team interviews and moments caught on video, accompanied captions that painted an entirely false narrative.

Phrases like “unspoken chemistry” and “undeniable connection” jumped out at him, making his blood boil.

“This is…” Pedri trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You think that’s bad?” Ferran said, leaning over to scroll down.

“Check the comments.”

Pedri’s frown deepened as he skimmed the comment section, where fans had enthusiastically declared their support for the supposed couple.

"They’re so cute together!""I ship them so hard!""Finally, Pedri’s found someone who matches his energy!"

Pedri tossed the phone back to Ferran, his frustration palpable.

“None of this is true,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again.

“Yeah, well,” Ferran said, pocketing his phone,

“if Y/n saw this, it might explain why she’s acting weird. Can’t blame her, man. This article’s painting a pretty convincing picture.”

Pedri exhaled deeply, leaning back against the bench.

“She didn’t say anything about it.”

Ferran shrugged.

“Would you, if the shoe was on the other foot? Imagine reading something like that about her. You wouldn’t even need to believe it to feel like crap.”

Pedri rubbed his face with his hands, guilt beginning to creep in.

“I didn’t think this could be bothering her. I didn’t even know about this until now.”

“Well,” Ferran said, giving him a pointed look,

“now you do. So what are you going to do about it?”

Pedri didn’t hesitate.

“I need to fix this,” he said firmly, determination sparking in his eyes.

Ferran gave him a pat on the back.

“Good. Go home, talk to her. Don’t let this article ruin things.”

As Ferran walked away, Pedri stayed seated for a moment longer, his thoughts racing.

Now it all made sense, your distance, the way you avoided his touch, the sadness in your eyes.

He couldn’t stand the thought of you hurting, especially because of something so far from the truth.

He stood abruptly, his mind made up.

He had to make things right.

When Pedri came home that evening,

I was sitting on the couch, my laptop open in front of me, but my mind was far away, drifting aimlessly through thoughts I couldn’t quite organize.

The quiet hum of the apartment felt heavy, like it was pressing down on me, and I couldn’t escape it.

I had been trying to keep myself busy, just so I wouldn’t think too much about the distance that had been growing between Pedri and me.

But it didn’t help.

The more I tried to ignore it, the more the emptiness crept in.

The quiet space between us had only grown, and every little thing felt like a reminder of how lost I had become in my own insecurities.

I couldn’t keep pretending.

Every time I saw him laughing with Valentina, or when I came across fan edits of them together, the nagging feeling in my chest had gotten harder to ignore.

The worst part wasn’t even what people online were saying. It was how much I had started to doubt myself.

Doubt us.

When Pedri stepped into the living room, I felt the change in the air.

His presence filled the space, but something about his posture, his eyes, told me he had noticed something was off.

His gaze locked onto mine instantly, and I felt my stomach tighten in anticipation.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there for a moment, as if weighing whether he should bring it up.

His expression softened, but I could see the concern brewing beneath the calm.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of determination.

My heart skipped a beat.

“About what?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

He sighed, the frustration and worry clear on his face as he walked toward me.

He sat down beside me, his body close but not quite touching.

It was like he was giving me the space to open up, but I wasn’t sure I could.

He reached for my hand, and for a brief second, I considered pulling away.

The distance between us was still too fresh, the hurt too real.

But I didn’t.

I let him take my hand, his fingers threading through mine in the most familiar, comforting way.

But I could feel the weight in his touch, the uncertainty that had settled in his chest too.

"Why have you been pulling away from me?" he asked gently, his voice carrying a soft sadness that made my heart ache.

I glanced at him, feeling a lump form in my throat.

I had been trying to bury everything inside, trying to make it through without having to confront it.

But now, here we were, facing the truth of what had been building for weeks.

I swallowed hard.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

I had to look away from him, unable to bear the rawness in his gaze.

“It’s just... everything that’s been happening with you and Valentina... I can’t help but feel like I’m losing you. I don’t know if I even matter anymore.”

The words left me in a rush, tumbling out before I could stop them.

The weight of them felt like a confession, a cry for help.

Pedri’s eyes softened as he took a deep breath, and I could feel the tension in his shoulders as he gently cupped my cheek with his hand.

“Cariño,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a stray tear I hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“You matter more to me than anything in this world. I hate that this has made you feel like you don’t.”

His words wrapped around me like a lifeline, but they didn’t take away the pain.

I had watched, day after day, as the rumors built up.

The comments. The speculation.

The way people thought they knew something about us that we hadn’t even shared.

“It just hurts,” I whispered, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall again.

“Seeing those pictures. Reading the comments. Watching them ship you with someone who isn’t me... It’s like you’re slipping away, and I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Pedri’s thumb brushed against my cheek again, wiping away the tear that had fallen this time.

“I never wanted you to feel like this. I never wanted you to feel invisible,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

He moved a little closer, pressing his forehead against mine.

“I’m so sorry you’ve felt like you had to hide, or that you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me, Y/n. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, just taking in his words.

They were exactly what I needed to hear, and yet... something was still missing.

There was so much more I wanted to say, but the fear of making it worse held me back.

I took a shaky breath and looked up at him.

“It’s not about not being enough. It’s just... this whole situation. The rumors. The fans. They have this image of us, Pedri. And it’s like I’m not even in the picture.”

Pedri’s eyes darkened with frustration, and I could see the anger brewing beneath the surface.

But it wasn’t directed at me.

It was directed at everything else, the media, the fans, the narrative that had been spun around us without our consent.

“You’re not invisible,” he said fiercely, his voice unwavering.

“You’re not on the sidelines, Y/n. You’re the most important part of my life."

"I can’t stand seeing you hurt because of something that’s not even true.”

I let out a shaky breath, my heart starting to settle just a little, even though the ache hadn’t completely gone.

“But what are we supposed to do? How do we fix this?”

Pedri looked at me with such intensity that I felt like I was being pulled into his world, where nothing else mattered except us.

“I’m done hiding, cariño,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

“I want the world to know about us. I want everyone to see who you really are to me. You’re not a secret, and I’m not going to let the media or anyone else make you feel like you are.”

My breath caught in my throat.

I could hardly process what he was saying. It was so big, so bold, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world coming from him.

He wasn’t just speaking out of anger or frustration; he was speaking out of love, and it made everything in me feel like it was finally falling into place.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“This is... this is a huge step, Pedri. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

His eyes softened again, and he reached out to touch my cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my skin.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he said.

“I don’t care about what the fans think. I care about you. About us. And I’m done hiding us.”

I felt tears well up again, but this time, they weren’t from hurt.

They were from relief, from the overwhelming love that suddenly felt so certain, so real.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” Pedri replied, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against mine.

For the first time in weeks, I felt like we were finally back on the same page, ready to face everything together.

pedri posted on Instagram!

Liked by yourusername, gavi, ferrantorres and 112,452 others

pedri El amor de mi vida.

View all comments

yourusername Love you the most 🩷

pedri Yo también te amo mi amor ❤️

ferrantorres 👏👏👏

pedri 💪

pedri_and_me6 I’m honestly shocked! Didn’t see this coming Pedri and his girl look cute together 🥹

barça_love_89 Pedri be scoring on and off the pitch dayuum

pedriclosetclothes8 Forrealll he bagged a baddie 💅

pepilvr8frv Wow I thought Pedri and Valentina were really together this is so unexpected but I’ll always ship Valentina and him. 🤷‍♀️

frbtogethergavi30 Girl stfu you don't even know them 🙄

brcculer8 Not you rooting for something that doesn't exist 🤦‍♀️

blueredlyy7 I just know it stinks girl get out of here 🥱

lvlybarca8630 Pedri that's our girlfriend now 🤭

delulu4pedri8 Ew he deserves better 🤢

chichiclassypepi8 Really living up to the name

fnzygvi6 He isn't going to acknowledge you stand up sis 😒

The end

[tricksh0t]

★ comfort

☾ jaime lannister x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ prince charming jaime lannister (s1 jaime) is my fav; also genuinely the first fic of mine where the pairing kisses lip to lip

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 3.0k words

cw: long intro, lighthearted s*x, reunion s*x, soft, cheating, light incest (don't sue me, it's game of thrones, they're very distant cousins however many times removed) , calling your lover names playfully (bastard, asshole), more plot than porn (entire second part is s*x, but not focused on the s*x)

"Did you grow up with boy-cousins, Lord Tywin? Sons of your father's bannermen, squires, stable boys."

"Of course."

"And you... never..?"

"No."

"Not once? Not in any way?"

"Never."

You were never destined for anything.

You were born a Lannister, yes, but you were so far from the main line that you were set to inherit nothing. You were only a Lannister by name, long lines of second sons marrying outside of important houses over and over until your blonde locks were nothing but dirty.

Your father did not own a large sum of Lannister fortune. His greatest achievement was being the squire of one of Tywin's lesser brothers; but his brother never lead any wars, and so that was hardly a feat anyway.

When you were born, it seemed like you would follow in your father's footsteps. There was hardly anything Lannister about you.

Your greatest feat would probably be setting foot in Casterly Rock to shovel horse shit to and fro. At least then you'd get to admire your distant cousins, the glorious ones, the ones you'd use in your fantasies as the shoes you'd like to wear.

Except, one day you stole a sword and caught the eye of Tywin's lesser brother, the very same that your father had squired for. He showed you, in turn, to his brother, Tywin Lannister.

Under the Lord of Casterly Rock's eyes, you showed promise.

Before Jaime Lannister ever took up the sword with a purpose that wasn't "because daddy told me to", there was you in the training grounds as far as he could remember.

There was you, strong, barely a teen yet.

You became friends, then, under the sword. Tywin bid you an example for his son. As a boy, you were hardly fit to be an example, so instead you became friends.

Between his overzealous sister, his outcast brother, his jealous cousins and the frightened servants, you were the best friend he could ever have.

From friends, you became... not lovers, but something close. It was hardly romance, it was hormones, it was just boys being boys, and it was only fooling around. A kiss or two, sometimes longer, sometimes with tongue; playing at maturity.

With you, Jaime got a taste for breaking the rules and the thrill of sneaking out of his bedroom under the bright cast of moonlight. He got his first taste of romantic companionship, and he liked it.

You were only a couple years older then, but Jaime's dislike for letters caused him to be bound to the book for several hours a day, and so you were the stronger swordfighter.

He admired you. You were more literate than him, though most people are, and stronger, taller, more built, more worked.

You knew hardship and, as the heir to Casterly Rock, he didn't.

He got his first taste of hardship when you were summoned to become a King's Guard, and he did not like it.

Jaime had never begged before. "Don't go. Please, don't go."

And you had never denied him. "I must."

That's why, when you left for the King's Guard, he was left in despair. Despair caused impulse, and he fell back to his sister.

You did not send any ravens the years you were gone, so you grew apart. Jaime held some resentment too, for the first couple of years when he became a King's Guard, so you grew further apart.

He had his sister now, and she was a jealous woman.

The older you grew, the more you thought of your little youthful escapades as just that, things of the youth, inconsequential to anything else of your now adult existance.

Jaime came around eventually.

He became the better swordsman. He was quite fine with letters, and stronger, taller, more discreet, more dutiful.

You were lovers once more, but only that. This time, you knew how to please a man, but again he was only learning. You pleased each other under the influence of wine, or maybe not. Maybe sometimes your minds were unobstructed, and instead, you were more truthful, softer... and some rare nights, you only talked, you shared heart-to-hearts.

But you weren't friends, not by actions. You did not talk often enough, freely enough, unguarded. You were just lovers.

Regardless, to Jaime, there was great comfort in knowing that you were somewhere in the Red Keep, still there for him, still alive. It was one of the things he fought to remember during his year-long journey back to King's Landing.

When you open your door to leave your chambers, you are quickly pushed back inside.

Jaime's there. He's different, but he's there, and he slams the door behind him. You take it as another moment where he seeks the comfort of your body, especially after what you heard had happened to him. The idea occurs naturally to you, even after a year apart.

You kiss him roughly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, because you've missed him.

Jaime breaths hard into the kiss. He's breathing hard in general, and it's more evident when he pushes you away.

You lose your footing in a daze and land on a chair. It'd be a great position, and you'd be quite excited in anticipation, if it weren't for the look on his face.

"Jaime?"

"You didn't come see me." He says, angrily. His arms are crossed, hands—hand folded over his inner elbow.

Standing before you is a shadow of the man Jaime once was. His hair is shorter, darker, his skin is tanner, he's got dark circles under his eyes. He looks worn.

This is a man who has gone through hell. This is a man going through his second war, a man who was held prisoner for a time, who had to kill his cousin, and who tracked through mud and shit to get back to his home. He was missing a bloody hand!

And you didn't go see him.

"No, I didn't." You sit up quickly, fixing the smirk on your lips to a neutral one. "I thought Cersei would keep you, or that you'd be busy recovering...or that our family would want to see you."

"Cersei saw me." Jaime said pointedly. The next moment, he's climbing onto your lap, bracketing your legs with his. "I saw Joffrey and Tommen. Myrcella is gone, and I just found out. Tyrion had his opportunity. Father wished to do nothing but scold me. I was recovering from my journey in my chambers for three days. You didn't come see me."

"I didn't... and now I see I have no excuse." You keep your eyes on him. Past his heavy lids and dark circles, his eyes are the same as you last saw them, a beautiful green.

"All I could think about was getting back to you." He says through gritted teeth, and though it was a lie, you would believe it. He shifts his hips to rub against your length, a subtle grind.

It loses all subtlety when he continues, over and over. Pleasure rises.

"You are." You say with shaky breaths, heavy enough to mirror his. Your eyes close instinctively, head tilted down to the source of your pleasure.

You haven't had him in a year. You miss him, his body. A brothel whore cannot compare.

"Look at me." His teeth are still gritted. He grasps your face with his hand, squeezing your cheeks in the pull to make you look at him.

"Jaime." You say, acknowledging him, looking at him once more.

He looks angry. It's in his gritted teeth and wide eyes and his heaving chest, it's in his words—but he's not violent, no, never to you.

You kiss him, lick into his mouth to urge his tongue to meet yours. His teeth separate, not with a screeching difficulty, but easily. It's almost familiar, the way his tongue feels against yours, the taste of his saliva.

You have known this man longer than you haven't. Perhaps he is missing a hand, perhaps he is wrinkled and older, but he is still the same man you tousled with in your youth.

You find yourselves eventually on the bed, like you have a hundred times before. You on your back, him on your lap.

Except this time it is not quite as swift, and this time he is struggling with the clasps of your armor.

"Let me."

"No."

You do it anyway. Jaime watches you sit up and he sighs. He thinks of himself as helpless, a mope of a man settled on your lap like a peasant sitting on the Iron Throne.

He sighs out of his nose once more, but to you, he only seems like a sad puppy. "Knights can hardly do this themselves. That's what squires are for. I'm sure you've never heard of a one-handed squire."

"That's not helping." Jaime huffs.

"Look," You say, with all the parts of your chest plate, shoulder parts and neck pieces off. You fix his arms around your neck, "you can still wrap them around here. That's all that matters, hm? All you need is to hold on tight enough."

"Asshole." Jaime says as he pushes you onto your back again, though there's a bit of a lift to his lips.

It's the third time he pushes you. "Pushy."

"Asshole." He repeats.

There's little else to remove after that, just the flowing scales covering your crotch that he removes easily with new determination, and your shin guards, but those won't obstruct the path to your dick.

He undoes the laces of your pants with two harsh tugs and then your cock is free to him. With the way he's looking at it like a meal, you're sure he's missed it.

"Do you still keep oil behind the curtains?" Jaime asks, already reaching behind the canopy's bedpost, where the curtain is usually wrapped securely around the flask.

"No." He looks disappointed then, for a moment. "At least it means I've been loyal to you?"

"It can just as well mean that you've only been visiting brothels." Jaime laughs, leaning his forearms on either side of your head to kiss you before you can protest.

You like this, it's easy; it's carefree and humorous. You can feel his smile against your lips.

He shifts his position to press his ass to your cock and grind against the length of it, swallowing your groan with his lips. You hardly noticed when he tugged off his own pants.

For a moment you think that might be how he gets you off, but then one of his arms leaves the mattress, and his fingers are gathering precum from the tip of your swollen head.

It sacrifices his balance, and you catch him before his full weight falls on you. "Bastard." You breathe out a laugh.

"What?" Jamie returns a grin, though it falls open just slightly when he stretches himself out with your precum as lubrication. Quite the sight.

"One journey from the North to King's Landing on foot, and suddenly you don't care for cleanliness?"

He winces slightly, "One, I was also tricked into drinking horse piss. Two, you're cumming inside sooner or later, it's not very different, is it?"

"One," You mirror with raised eyebrows, "what in the Seven Hells? Two, fair enough."

Holding up his thinner body with one hand is easy enough, and if it weren't, you'd have sacrificed the possibility of him falling onto you for the opportunity to hold his face.

You cup his cheek. In another time, a year ago, your fingernails would've been tickled by boyishly long hair. Now, his hair is only prickly.

"Will you grow it out again?"

Jaime thinks on it. He thinks about how it stuck to his face whenever it was dirty with muck or grime, about how easy it was to tug at his hair, how it was used to tug him backwards into horseshit or some other crazed punishment... but he also thinks about how much you liked it, how you often sweetly pushed it off his forehead when it stuck, how tugging at it did feel good in intimate situations such as this.

"I might." Is what he settles for, and he relishes the sight of your smile.

He's good at prepping himself and keeping a smug face. You've seen it thousands of times before, when he's tired of being ordered around and decided he needed to take control for once. You've seen him the other way around just as many times, quite willing to give up the reigns because he's just so tired.

There's just something about another person's hand.

"Oh..." Jaime moans as you push his hand away and replace his fingers with yours.

Furtheremore, you let him slump forward. You're almost—nay, you are cuddling in this way. Your legs even tangle. You've got him right on top of you, one hand over his back and the other prepping him, letting him just relax.

"That feel good?"

He's practically melting on top of you. It's rather funny how nonchalant he replies with the subtle nod of his head and, "Yeah, uh-huh."

You drag your other hand over his spine and up to hold the back of his head. "Tell me about your journey."

"Okay," He hums pliantly, "Robb Stark captured me in an ambush... which, though it cost me hell, is quite admirable for a boy born after the war. I spent several months travelling behind the army convoys as a prisoner, without a roof, without a floor. Just a stick in the mud and a shitty cage."

He recounts the journey while you prep him languidly like you have all the time in the world.

You don't have all the time in the world. You'll only have tonight, and perhaps the next night, thought it is quite unlikely. Before long, you're sure, Cersei will stop this grudge of hers and Jaime will be gone again, only crawling back after another lovers' quarrel.

"Are you listening?" Jaime suddenly asks, voice rather soft. He looks up at you, beautiful green eyes batting under his eyelashes. Yes, you're looking.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." You say dismissively.

"Hold on a moment."

Jaime sits up to straddle you once more. You watch him go up all the way, eyes locked onto his. He's beautiful; different, worn, but still beautiful.

He shakes his head with a small laugh, "What are you looking at?"

You're so distracted with his face that you don't realize him sliding down onto your cock in one swift motion. "Fuck."

"Fuck is what you're looking at?" Jaime teases.

"Bastard."

"Ah, ah, ah," He tuts his tongue, hand on your abdomen as he rolls his hips. "you already used that one once. Be a little more creative, for once?"

You roll your eyes yet reply anyway, "Dickhead."

Jaime grins, "Better."

You settle a hand on his hip, helping guide his movements as well as make sure he doesn't lose his balance, what with the hand and all. It's... he's probably fine, but you can't help but be cautious.

You wrap your other hand on what remains of his wrist, almost as if to hold his hand. He notices the gesture.

His voice is soft when he says, "As I was saying?"

You nod your head, "As you were saying."

"About losing my hand... suppose I was way in over my head. I'd managed to convince that bastard of a man, Locke to leave lady Brienne untouched. I thought I could convince him to do more, to give me a decent meal and a fire, but instead, he convinced me that he was following along with my orders. Next moment, his men are pinning me down and he cuts my hand off himself. For the next months, he ties the bloody thing around my neck and I can't even take it off."

Grueling business to talk about while he rides you, but you've never held off from venting during these moments. It makes release all the sweeter, releasing your problems as well as your pent up sexual frustrations.

It's soft, all of it. The hand holding, the slow pace and desire to clench around every part of your cock, the eye contact, the easy way he tells you the entire story without sparing details to save his dignity.

"I should've gone after you." You sigh, kissing his bandaged wrist.

"No, you're a King's Guard, not a foot soldier." Jaime shakes his head, heaving a sigh. "You–"

You flip him over easily. "I should've gone after you." You say, and it's almost like you have authority over him, leaning over his body. You do, really, you're in control of your pleasure now.

Speechless, Jaime doesn't fight you. "Yeah."

You start up slow again, but quickly build up in chase of his pleasure. Jaime breathes out a shaky sigh, breaths growing heavier with each thrust.

"I'm sorry for all you've been through," Jaime has half the mind to protest, but you give him a look and continue, "and I wish I could kill every man that wronged you myself. I'm glad for Catelyn Stark, and glad for lady Brienne. I'm also happy that you're back, back to me. Happier than women leaving Maester Pycelle's room."

He wraps his arms around your neck, like you'd showed him earlier, and his legs around your waist. He's holding you close, for comfort, as if to make sure you're really there.

It's silly to do so. You're in front of his very eyes, your cock is fucking him open, and you're very much real.

"I'm happy I'm back with you." He mirrors with a grin, "Happier than even your cock is, I'm sure."

You kiss. No teeth, no tongue, just him and you holding it for as long as possible.

Maybe he will go back to Cersei. You think it almost inevitable; but at least you're sure there's a little part of him that loves you dearly, even if you might never admit it to each other.

For tonight, he's yours.

Yours to lavish, yours to pleasure, yours to fuck.

Yours to love.

[hypnoticmoth]

Some little tidbits about my AU (After the tower fell) and general headcanons about the Vees ~

Sonce i can't draw too much at the moment because of anxiety, i decided that i still wanted to share some stuff about my AU !

Putting things under a read more ~

Unlike Valentino and Vox, when Velvette landed in Hell, she didn't spend that much time being confused and helpless. Yes, she was scared, but she also knew that if she didn't do anything she would probably get killed. As soon as she was able, she started to gather informations about how Hell worked, what were Overlords, what was Extermination, ect. She took note of every single Overlords currently reigning over Pentagram and decided the Vees were the ones she should aim for (their domains aligned more with her abilities). She was the one to boldly go to Vox and offer him the chance to work with her (and Vox accepted, he saw not only that her powers would fit well into him and Valentino's already existing businesses, but that it would expand their reach on other avenue linked to their already existing ones. He also kinda liked how bold and direct she was)

Valentino was very unhappy with Velvette joining the Vees at first. He felt like she was placing herself between him and Vox, and his possessiveness and jealousy made him be quite rude and dismissive of her for a while. Until him and Velvette realized they both shared a lot of common interests. Now they're inseparable and will be the gossipy bitches every trio needs. And just like Valentino is for Vox, he becomes highly protective of Velvette.

The Vees have a familial bond between them, even if they don't admit it out loud, they very much embody the found family trope. It is also why Velvette felt so betrayed after Vox caused the ruin of the Vees. When alive, she was neglected by her parents, and she thought she could never trust anyone anymore, but it changed when she met Val and Vox, only for Vox to shatter the trust she offered him.

Velvette met Verosika in the V tower one day because Vox wanted to have the popstar on one of his shows to boost his ratings. She was instantly charmed by Verosika and approached her after Valentino teased her a bit.

And for now, that's all, i have to go back to work, but i might add a reblog with more little things ~ Or if you have specific questions don't hesitate to ask !

[yinyuedijun]

since it is on the brain tonight. have one of my favourite (very very long) scenes of desire path backstory (happened in both versions of the fic, og and current)

(tw implied child abuse and incest)

background: you've just been adopted into the itoshi household and have had a really hard time opening up. sae hears you crying in your bedroom every night. here, he finally decides to try and help you. you're about 6 here, sae is 8.

___

Still, you had your bad nights. Progress has never been linear with you, not now and not back then. Sae recalls one midnight where you had a crying fit that disintegrated into a violent string of coughs, each one so powerful that it made him wince.

He wondered how the whole house wasn't awake, listening to your pain. Rin always slept like a rock—Sae could see him snoring away in the other bed, so it made sense that he wasn't bothered—but surely their parents were hearing this? But then he decided not to linger on it for too long.

It didn't matter since he was going to help you anyway.

He ended up knocking on your door with a glass of water. Almost immediately, all the shifting in your room stopped, almost like you were trying to silence yourself. But Sae could hear the coughs being torn violently from your throat, even though they now sounded strained and muffled.

"Hey," he called out softly. "It's me. Are you awake?"

Silence. Sae knew to give it a moment before he tried again.

"Can I come in?"

If it had been anyone other than you, you told Sae years later, your fingers running lazily through his hair, lifting the bangs out of his face, I wouldn't have said anything. I'd have pretended to be sleeping. But I let you in because it was you. You squeezed his hand, then, and your eyes were close—so close, heavy on his own and weighed down by the vulpine flick of your eyeliner, by the mascara sooty and thick on neatly curled lashes, by your childhood shadows. Your strawberry gloss shone next to his lips, and your heated and tender words kissed them: Do you understand what I'm saying, Nii-chan? If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have been—

"...okay."

When Sae crept into your room, found an empty bed. You were hiding underneath it, curled up in the tiny space between the floor and the mattress, hugging the quilt he'd handed to you weeks ago. He crouched down, showed you the glass of water. Sae wasn't sure if the offering would be enough to draw you out from under the bed, but another coughing fit—this one strong enough to make you teary-eyed—had you crawling out. You mumbled a little thank you as you took the glass from him and drank.

"You haven't cried like that in a while," Sae commented, and you gave him a stricken look. After a long moment of unadultered panic in your eyes, he heard you string more than two words for the first time:

"...s-sorry. I'm really sorry." You were looking down at the floor, and it was like all the progress Sae had made over the past several weeks had gone up in smoke—you looked petrified, small, a cornered animal with nowhere to run. "I didn't know you could hear me."

"Don't apologize. I don't mind it."

"...you're not mad?"

Sae thought it was a funny question. "No. Who'd get mad at something like that?"

You didn't reply, just looking away, and Sae felt a little frustrated, then. He'd been working so hard to make you feel comfortable and thought he'd finally made some progress—but now he was seeing you regress in real time. Back into the fragile little thing that his parents had decided to adopt out of the blue, looking like you couldn't trust anything around you. Like you couldn't trust him. Sae couldn't help but think—

"You don't like it here, do you."

Even at that age, you had a distinctly doe-eyed look when you were confused, and he remembers staring at it.

"No," you said. "I do."

"Then how come you don't wanna talk to any of us?"

Maybe his voice was a little too harsh. Or a little too blunt. You flinched, your body retreating into the turquoise shell of your quilt.

"Sorry."

"That's—" Sae paused, chewing his lip. Tried to make his voice as gentle as possible, because he knew his usual tone would scare you. "...you don't need to be sorry. I'm not mad. I just wanna know what's been making you so upset. Like—how come you always cry at night?"

You got that nervous, uncertain look in your eye again, and Sae got the distinct feeling that you were wondering if this whole conversation was some kind of trick. He added, "I just wanna know how to cheer you up. I don't like seeing you so sad all the time."

You blinked, gave him a surprised look, but it was fleeting, quickly making way for another gloomy expression. "You don't need to worry about me… I don't think I'm going to stay here for very long."

Sae's brow furrowed. His mom had made it sound like you were going to be his little sister just like how Rin was his brother—that is, permanently. "Why not?"

The face you made was so miserable that it startled Sae. He hadn't had a lot of experience with sadness as a kid—most of what he'd witnessed revolved around soccer, when the opposing team lost, and Sae never felt very sorry for them. Sometimes Rin would throw tantrums or cry over silly things, but those were easy to handle. Sae supposed that the worst sadness he'd ever seen was in his mother, who tried her best to hide it—

—but not even her saddest expressions could compare to how shattered you looked in that moment.

"...your dad doesn't actually want me here, Sae-san."

Sae's brow creased. You have a new sister, he recalled. You need to take care of her, OK? It's your job as the eldest.

"That can't be right," Sae replied. "Dad said he wanted you to be part of this family. He even said I should look after you."

Instead of responding, you looked long and hard at Sae, and for the first time, he experienced the strange feeling of being dissected by you. He felt translucent and naked under your eyes—keen for such an innocent age, seeing everything in the dark.

"We have the same father, but different moms. You know that, right?" you asked quietly.

He hadn't.

"Your dad didn't like my mom very much, and that's why he didn't want me. He's only being forced to take me now 'cause my mom decided she didn't want me either." Your eyes started to shimmer, and you hid them in your blanket. "My stepdad and my brother also left 'cause they didn't want me. And I don't think your mom likes me very much, either. So"—you breathed in deep and whispered, and Sae felt like he was watching a vase tip over the edge, a sandcastle crumbling into dirt, his mother crying as she fumbled for her cigarettes when she thought no one was watching—"it's not gonna be very long 'til your parents throw me away too."

Sae went silent. If his heart ached for you when he first laid eyes on you, then it was being crushed right now. He didn't think very hard about it when he placed a hand over one of yours.

"They wouldn't do something like that," he said.

Your fingers twitched under his, like you wanted to pull away.

"They want to. I can tell."

You're just imagining things, Sae nearly replied, but then he remembered that he'd never once heard his parents come here at night to check on your crying, and then he went quiet.

"...it doesn't matter," he eventually decided. "I won't let them."

A little sniff. "No?"

"No. I'll make sure you stay with us."

You blinked the saltwater away from your lashes, then gave him a curious look. "Why?"

"Because I'm your brother, and it's my job to take care of you."

"Really?" you asked, voice watery.

His eyes softened, his usual impassivity crumbling for you.

"Really. I would never let anyone throw you away," he said, and the words felt so ugly in his mouth that he couldn't fathom how anyone had done that to you. How anyone could have done anything to you. You were so sweet, and so kind, and so vulnerable, and it left him feeling sick when he imagined you being hurt in any way. "I'll keep you safe. Promise."

Sae nearly jumped when he felt something move in his hand. He looked down, saw your little fingers prodding at his own, and he offered you his open palm. You took it readily, Sae found himself transfixed by the latticework of your entwined fingers.

"Thank you, Sae-san."

"It's nothing," he wrote off. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, gentle in a way that his voice wasn't. "But I'm your brother now, remember? You should address me properly."

You smiled a little, studying your interlocked fingers, and Sae felt a peculiar warmth in his chest, an uptick in his pulse.

"Okay, Nii-chan."

Nii-chan. Sae's always loved hearing that title in your mouth. Not out of a demand for respect the way Rin obsesses over it, but because you've always seemed so happy to say it, the syllables sweetened by your adoring tongue. Okay, Nii-chan, you've always said. I'll listen to you, Nii-chan. I trust you, Nii-chan. I love you, Nii-chan. I love you, I love you, I love you.

So please don't leave us again.

Please don't throw me away.

[undercvrfan444]

Description! Pt.2 to Bully!Satoru

Warnings! 18+, AFAB, mentions of female genitalia, kind of creepy gojo (oops), smut, fingering, probably more but Idk

Authors Note! I hope you guys like this, I have other ideas too so stay tuned because i’ll prob post those within the next few days! 💙

Bully!Satoru who would knock whatever book you were reading out of your hands. The pages would mesh together and you’d lose your spot causing you to frown. “You’re such a jerk!” You’d say to him and all you’d get was a wink in response.

Bully!Satoru who enjoyed writing disgusting and downright horrible things about you on post it notes just to slip them in your bag so you’d find them at home. He knew you read the comments because when you’d come to school the next day it was always hard for you to keep eye contact with him like normal. Your agitated responses would be mere whispers instead of your usual brave demands.

Bully!Satoru who watched as rain started to pour viscously outside and spotted the pretty pink umbrella tucked neatly in the side of your backpack. He couldn’t help himself. He needed his sweet bunny to do without so he could swoop in and save the day! Taking the umbrella, he was forcing you to soak your clothes in order for him to offer his own umbrella. You should already know he would peak down to see the way your uniform clung to your body and how the bra you wore did a poor job at hiding how cold you were.

Bully!Satoru who was surrounded by girls at lunch and noticed one day how you seemed to be bothered by it. Later on when he pulled your beautifully crafted braid out of your head you simply…ignored him.

Bully!Satoru who internally was intrigued by your reaction. Seeing his sweet bunny get so bothered by him receiving attention from other females managed to turn him on more than he expected.

Bully!Satoru who notices when you’re out of school for a few days after your little fit and asks your friends why you’ve been gone. They inform him that you’re sick and would most likely be missing the worksheets you’d need. Satoru knew how dedicated you are to your studies and took it upon himself to bring those papers by your house. How he got your address? Don’t worry about it.

Bully!Satoru who showed up after school that day and knocked on your door. You answer in a simple hoodie and shorts that has Satoru salivating like a dog; his eyes raking up your legs with no shame. “Aren’t you gonna let me in? I have all your work which i’m sure you’ll need some help with.”

Shy!Reader who lets Satoru into their house and tells her mom she and a friend are going upstairs to study. Yet the moment your bedroom door closes Satoru pulls you against his chest and gropes you through the fabric. He coos in your ear and shushes you when you try to protest “Oh cmon sweet girl. Be nice and let me have my reward for doing a good deed yeah?”

His slender fingers cup your breasts over your shirt and he moves one large hand down to run a hand smooth over your ass. His lips brushed against your ear as he left featherlight kisses. “Is this what you think of when you’re all alone? My hands feeling your body up while I whisper nasty things in your ear? Hmm?”

Bully!Satoru who teased you unwavering for what seems forever about being jealous of some stupid girls. “They’re just jealous of you baby. You get all my attention while I leave those girls high and dry don’t you know?” He loves hearing you whimper while and slips his cold hands under your clothes and inspects you further.

Bully!Satoru who scanned your room quickly until something caught his eye. A small pile of neatly folded colorful post it notes tucked into a container on your desk. His tongue clicking down at you and chuckling lowly in your ear. “Oh come now. Y/n! I never would have taken you for such a dirty girl…but that’s what you want people to think right? That you’re a goody two shoes that would never dream of having sex before marriage. Yet here you are with a pile of my horny little notes that you’ve been collecting while you writhe and moan from my hands touching you.”

Bully!Satoru who wants to eat you alive. His teeth sink down into your neck leaving a blooming purple patch on a rather exposed piece of skin. “S-Satoru! That hurt!” Is all you can seem to cry out while he slips his hand lower into your shorts, rubbing his fingers over your panties.

He sits on your bed gently and pulls you into his lap, knocking your legs apart so each leg stretches over his. He already slipped your shorts off and has you tightly against his chest where you swear you can feel his heart racing. “Be a good girl for me and stay quiet. We can’t have your parents knowing how wet their daughter gets by having her bully knuckle deep in her little pussy.”

Shy!Reader that swears she’s going crazy as her head spins. Small pants and groans escape from your lips while he fucks his fingers in and out of you harshly. Obscene squelching noises fill your ears as you listen to him bury his fingers in your sopping pussy. “Please! Toru’ m-more.” The words shock both you and the boy behind you when they come out. Satoru stops his movements inside you and forces your head up so you look him in the eyes.

“That feel good baby?” You nod the best you can with his hand holding your jaw. “Tsk tsk, I didn’t expect this from you sweet girl. You’ve already made such a mess on my lap i’m not sure I can continue without your parents asking question when I go downstairs.” His words cause you to whine out loudly and he pulls his fingers out of you completely.

Your eyes widen at the sudden loss of his touch. “N-no please! Satoru I want…I want you to touch me!” Frantically you whisper up to him while frustrated tears fall from your eyes at being neglected.

Satoru smiles at you for a second before licking his fingers clean of your slick. The sight making you squirm and try to close your legs.

“Mm, such a needy thing. I hate to leave you like this but it’s getting so late.” He snickers behind you and you know he’s doing this to prove a point and nothing more. He pulls your legs closer together and lifts you so you’re lying against your pillows. He presses a small kiss against your lips before standing again.

Bully!Satoru who bends down and pockets the panties he ripped off of you previously. “Call me if you have any questions about the work yeah? I’m sure we could set up a study session soon.”

With that he left your room and you heard him say bye to your parents downstairs before the front door closes.

The next day with Bully!Satoru at school who barely looks at you throughout the day and keeps the teasing to a minimum causing you to get frustrated and feel the heat in your panties grow. The purple hickey Satoru had gifted you was covered with makeup the best you could do and occasionally you’d swipe your fingers over the spot.

Bully!Satoru who pulled you aside during lunch and wrangled you into an empty broom closet so he could attack your lips. “Look so pretty today baby. You really should stop staring at me so much or else someone might get the wrong idea. Someone might think you actually enjoy my teasing.”

[zaineviu]

❛𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴❜ - B.C (SKZ)

synopsis. Bang Chan likes to keep his girlfriend satisfied. You like to keep your boyfriend satisfied.

pairings. bangchan x fem!reader.

content. nsfw!, established relationship, chan is very vocal in this, you are very vocal, rough handling, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation.

wc. 2,562

a/n. Nothing to say, enjoy! ���꒰ྀི⸝⸝•᷅ࡇ•᷄⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ 

Don't forget to comment, so I know you like what I write and encourage me to keep writing.

Chris was the first person Y/N called when you returned home to Australia. You hadn't been there often, hadn't stayed more than a couple of days at a time, but you had to get away. You sat in the garage for a few minutes, taking deep breaths as you waited for Chris to answer the phone. Predictably, he didn't, not that you was surprised, except, well, you was, because as much as Chris hated talking on his mobile phone, he always answered for you.

You pouted, shoving your mobile phone in your pocket before getting out of your car and going inside. You didn't bother bringing your bag, you didn't need it for anything anyway; you just wanted to get under the covers, find a way to talk yourself out of crying and sleep for about four days. You kicked off your shoes when you walked into his room, turned on the light and....

“Jesus, baby, turn that damn thing off.”

You turned off the light without a second thought, but then hesitated, “Chris?”

Chris groaned as you turned the light back on and forced himself to sit up, the soft cotton sheets falling from his bare shoulders. 

“What time is it?”

“It's half past one,” you said quietly, pulling your hat off your head and placing it on the dresser to your left. “I thought you were in Korea-”

“I'm back early,” Chris shrugged. “Turn off the light, will you? And get into bed.”

Wordlessly, you nodded and turned off the light again; you took off your sweatshirt and the long sleeved blouse you were wearing, staying in your jeans, before crawling into his bed next to a very naked Chris. 

He snuggled against you automatically, letting out a shaky little sigh as his arms wrapped around you.

Chris pushed his nose against the side of your neck, pulling you closer to his side until he was half-crossed over your chest. “How was the airport?” you asked softly, feeling Chris tense under your arm, though you knew what the answer would be before the words left his lips.

Chris shook his head, trying to roll onto his stomach and bury himself against you, the man wanted to disappear from the world, just for a moment. But he couldn't find the words to tell you how bad it was, how his heart rate still hadn't returned to normal, how he still felt like he was struggling to breathe.

His fingertips danced along your spine, resting on your lower back and rubbing in soft, soothing circles. You could feel the hesitant rise and fall of Chris's chest, you could almost feel his heart beating beneath your skin, you pressed your lips to Chris's temple. “Baby-”

“Horrible, it was horrible,” Chris was quick to whisper, putting an arm across your chest, almost crawling over you.

The corners of Chris's lips tilted upwards and he used his knee to push your legs apart, fitting your bodies together a little more comfortably. He ran his hands around your waist, squeezing your hips.

“I still feel like I can't breathe,” he admitted, pressing his lips to the centre of your chest.

Chris slid his fingers into your hair, twisting them in his long fingers, and gently pulled your head back, noticing the pout on your lips. He scratched your scalp for a moment, saw the way your eyes closed, how your lips curved upward just a little. “Do you want to take your trousers off for me?”

You nodded slowly, but made no effort to move.

With a quiet laugh, Chris rolled you both over until he was snuggled between your legs, and sat up, reaching for the hem of your trousers. Your hips lifted easily off the mattress, allowing Chris to pull the fabric down your legs, tossing it carelessly aside. Chris ran his hands up the inside of your thighs, massaging your skin, and watched as your body slowly relaxed, sinking back into the mattress, your lips parted. “Yes?”

“Chris,” you whispered, moving closer to him.

Chris leaned over you, resting his forearms against the mattress and pressed his lips to your lips, licking your mouth until your body arched over the mattress, your thighs hugging his hips. Chris leaned back with a smile, bending down and tenderly kissing your wet pussy, your folds moistening rapidly, Chris left his place reaching for you again, moving his hand up your thigh until his fingers touched the dampness of your underwear, pressing his index finger into the edge.

You groaned noisily, sliding your hands down Chris's shoulders to grab onto him, trying to pull him in. “Come on, I-”

“Patience,” Chris said softly, smiling before pressing his lips against Y/N's quickly.

“You know I'm not patient,” you pouted, leaning down to brush your lips along Chris's chest, licking and sucking as the older man reached for the bedside table, pulling out a strip of condoms in case of emergency.You moaned against his chest, biting into the skin before Chris leaned back, red spots turning a dark purple after a while.

“Do you feel like you can breathe now?” you asked, your voice soft, because your number one priority had always been, and always would be, Chris. 

Chris had been the priority, and Y/N could relate. Chris had always been able to relate to the way Y/N had to escape the crowds at parties sometimes, had to take time out and shut down, because Chris was just like you. And making sure Chris was calm, comfortable and content was the most important thing, no matter what.

Chris took a deep breath, still feeling like he couldn't breathe, but for a completely different and better reason. It was always a little hard to breathe around you; Chris was completely in love, even years later. And he knew what was coming, he could read your mind and he couldn't wait, because it had been so long since you had time alone, it had been so long since you had time to spend together without the other guys and without restrictions and obligations.

Chris knew Y/N better than he knew himself, always had, and he leaned in to kiss you again, quickly, before sliding his lips down the centre of your chest. You took a deep breath, your hands sliding through Chris's hair, twisting the strands and just resting there, not trying to guide or move it in any way, knowing Chris wouldn't let you anyway. Chris brushed over your sensitive nipples with a smile before pressing a hot kiss on top of your damp folds “Well?”

You nodded, your hair falling over your eyes, and not so subtly thrust your hips upwards.

Chris ran his tongue up and down gently, letting his tongue taste your flavour in his mouth, making you moan noisily at the sensation before reaching for your hands, pulling them out of his hair. “Grab your thighs for me, baby,” he told you.

You moaned and let Chris guide his hands to the back of your thighs, lifting your legs, and you let Chris position them however he wanted, your knees bent back, close to your ears, and Chris's warm breath right against your hole. “Chris, I-I need-”

“I know, baby, I'm going to take care of you,” Chris whispered, a promise against your skin. He watched your knuckles turn white, holding your thighs apart as Chris leaned in, pressing his lips against your rim, playing with the tip of his tongue. He could hear your sharp inhale morph into a loud moan as Chris pointed his tongue, licking him in earnest, fingers resting on the back of Y/N's quivering thighs.

His hands burying themselves in your skin, his veins marking his arms, his fingers turning white.

You could feel your hips trying to rock down, slowly at first, just a little, and then more as you felt Chris's fingers against your rim, thrusting inside you. You gasped as you felt the tickle of Chris's jaw on the back of your thighs, you knew you would be sore for days from the way Chris dragged his lower lip all over your pussy sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. Your hands slid from your thighs to your boyfriend's hair, tugging at his loose locks, and Chris pulled away, licking his lips and shaking his head, all your juices sliding down his chin, not something you could see; your eyes were shut tight, your lips bitten and red, and your cheeks flushed.

Chris reached out and touched your wrist, causing you to immediately reach for your thighs again. ‘Good girl,’ your boyfriend said with a smile before he leaned down to lick your pussy before he started to move his fingers around your clit.

“Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, please,” you pleaded, not caring much about how loud you were being, arching your back.

Chris pulled off with a wet sound and reached for the strip of condoms, opening one and putting it on in a matter of seconds. “Come on, get on top, baby,” he said, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him.

You moaned helplessly, pouting prettily as you adjusted your limbs until you were sitting astride Chris's slim waist. You rested your hands on your boyfriend's chest as you felt his fingers press against your sensitive nipples, moulding your breasts in his hands. You stifled a gasp as Chris pushed that little bundle of nerves relentlessly against his cock, thrusting his hips against you, your hair falling over your face. “I'm-”

“Not yet, you're not,” Chris told him with a little laugh, sliding his fingers down and reaching for Y/N's hips.

Your body was so docile and pliable, letting Chris do whatever he wanted, and you snorted as the head of Chris's cock slid against your hole, between your cheeks, and pushed his hips back, trying to take more. “Chris, I-”

“Come on, sit on it, baby,” he instructed, his voice a little rougher than normal.

You bit your bottom lip as you reached behind, grabbing Chris's cock and pressing it against your hole. 

He moaned as you teased him for a minute, the head sliding in and then out, staining the backs of his thighs with cum, before slowly sinking down over his length. “Fuck.”

Chris exhaled slowly, pressing his fingertips against your thighs, bruising the skin right next to the bruises that were just forming. He registered your small gasp as he rocked his hips down, planting a hand on Chris's chest for balance. Chris slid his fingers down your thighs and across your hips, his thumb pressing between the sharp line of your hips.

You jerked your hips, rocking a little, feeling Chris slide a little deeper, felt him push against that little bundle of nerves, and let out a shuddering sigh. You felt your boyfriend's fingers press against your hips again, and you rocked down again, desperate to make Chris feel as undone as you felt.  You forced your eyes open, watching Chris as he wiggled his hips downwards, and pouted as the older man looked up at you with a grin and rosy cheeks, and it wasn't fair that Chris seemed so calm when you felt like crying from so much stimulation. You were going to explode. “Chris,” you moaned, pressing your hands on his shoulders, “I'm going to-”

Chris shook his head, planted his feet on the mattress and thrust his hips up once, fucking you and cutting off whatever you were going to say. “You're not going to cum until I do, okay?”

“I-”

“Ride me, baby, come on,” Chris urged, fucking you again.

You nodded blankly and lifted your hips, letting out a moan of frustration as you felt Chris slip out, and reached up to line him up again, sinking back in with a small sigh of bliss. You paused for a minute, eyes closed as you wiggled your hips, just enjoying the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you, and you were jolted by a hard slap on your ass, which made you moan. “I- Fuck.”

Chris smiled down at you, his fingers rubbing your ass tenderly, feeling your skin heat up. “Like that?” he asked, cheeky, not waiting for you to nod vigorously and gasp a silent yes. Chris did it again, the other cheek, and watched you cry out, closing your eyes tightly, rocking against him a little faster, a little more desperately. 

He had a thought in the back of his head that he should have taken the rings off earlier, he couldn't imagine it felt good with the metal around his fingers, but you didn't seem to mind, torn between pushing back into Chris's hand on your ass. Chris ran his hand over your soft skin, this time advancing to your clitoris, moving his fingers without putting pressure, just stroking, and you cum with a gasp.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” you rushed out, gasping as your body shook with your orgasm.

Chris grabbed your hips and easily flipped you over, pinning you to the mattress and fucking you like a fucking animal. He grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed them up, thrusting deeper, bruising your already bruised pale skin, he couldn't take his eyes off you, the way your hair spread across the pillow and your pretty pink cheeks.

You moaned, sliding a hand down your body, pinching your own nipples. You moaned at the overstimulation, and tried to spread your legs a little wider. “Come on, come inside me,” you gasped.

Chris moaned, feeling his stomach clench, and fucked you faster, chasing his orgasm.

Y/N moaned with Chris, you let him use your body, and he reached up to pull you in, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “Come on, I want to feel you, I want to feel you cum,” you whispered, knowing Chris was close, you could tell by the way his hips stuttered a little. “I want to feel you inside me for days. Make a mess of me, okay?”

Chris pulled away from you, pulling his cock out of your pussy and tugging at the condom, tossing it somewhere in the room, thrusting inside you just as quickly, moaning noisily as he felt you fully.

“Fuck,” Chris cursed, fucking you and stopping as he cum inside you. He pulled out slowly a minute later, using the pad of his thumb to rub your pussy, catching some of his cum and pushing it back in; he was always amazed at the way you let him do anything to your body, especially after a powerful orgasm when he had no energy to even try to stop it.

Your fingers ran along Chris's wrist before sliding a finger inside yourself, next to Chris's thumb. “Fuck,” you whispered, touching yourself for a minute with a sleepy, satisfied smile, before pulling Chris closer to kiss him. “Let's go to sleep, shall we? Then you can fuck me again when we wake up.”

Chris chuckled, smoothing your hair back and away from your sweaty forehead. “Are you okay?” you asked softly, brushing your knuckles over the soft skin of your boyfriend's cheek.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling you against him “Yes,” he said softly. “I'm better now because of you.”

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Duty Before Love i

Summary: Kate struggles to find a balance between her old life and her new very real reality of becoming an Avenger. Will you fit in her new life... The real question is if there would be space for her in yours.

Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3133 aprox

A/n: Hello everyone!!! This is a little story I've been toying with for a while. I think I've finally gotten it to a place where its not complete trash. I hope you guys enjoy it! If you did please let me know leave a like!

Bishop security was big, there was no denying it. Both Eleanor and Kate had good things going for them. The younger bishop however had no interest in her mother’s achievements. She loved her mother, but if she was at any event that had anything to do with bishop security,  it was because of pure obligation. She hadn’t yet succumbed to the weight of the legacy her mother was building for her. “Oh come on y/n” And there it was, her and her incessant complaining. “Let’s just leave, no one will notice.” You laughed at her statement. “No one will miss you!” You said chuckling. She gasped feigning offense. “What it’s true! You’ve never stuck around, so people don’t expect you to.” She nodded smugly trying to prove her point. “Unlike you people expect me to show up.” She grumbled. “I know what I need to do to fulfill my role, Kate. I’ll have to step up sooner or later.” She sighs loudly. “You sound just like my mother.” It made you laugh. “Well, maybe you should listen to her from time to time.” She didn’t laugh. 

“You know that I’ll never be that.” She picked at her fingers. “I’m never going to be that.” It was your turn to bite your tongue. “Clint and I just barely started making progress, real progress!” you flinched at the mention of the name. You sympathized with Kate she was your best friend how could you not? But sometimes that’s what it meant to be a good friend—keeping your friends from the wrong paths. All she was doing was denying her reality. “I get all of that but all you’ve really been doing is putting yourself in danger.” She huffed already knowing where you were going. “You’re going to get yourself killed in some obscure and tragic way! And I’ll never be able to get over it.” 

This wasn’t the first time you and Kate had this conversation and you can already see the irritation building in her. “Can’t you just be happy that I’m doing what I love? That I’d die doing what I love!” How she said it irked you, and her insinuation made that annoyance triple. She’d realized her mistake as soon as the words came out of her mouth and saw your features falter. “Do you even realize how that sounds? You sound like some privileged adrenaline junkie that has nothing better to do with their life.” As much as your words had stung Kate realized she’d pushed you over the edge and took the brunt of the jab. Taking a deep breath, she collected her thoughts. “Look I didn’t mean it, not…” You cut her off, a peeved expression still on your face. “Don’t bother we both know you meant what you said.” 

“I’m sure it’ll bring your mom so much comfort knowing you died, well at least she died doing what she loved!” You scoffed. You both knew loss you both knew grief, so it didn’t make sense how she could be so careless about her life! “Whatever, you should leave I’m not stopping you.” You left Kate fumbling for words. And moved to your designated seat the gala was barely getting started and you had many people to greet and talk to. You shook your head when you managed to catch Eleanor’s eye. You watch as she pursed her lips and nodded dismissively. She walked towards you pulling you into a quick hug. “Thank you for giving her a fight but, you don’t have to. I know it’s hard on you.” She said sympathetically. You nodded and gave her a small smile, Kate lingered in your mind for the rest of your night.

Days had passed and you hadn’t reached out to Kate. You wish it could be that easy, but when it came down to Kate it was always so hard to put down the the pride. She knew it as well as you did. Hence why she hadn’t done it either. Eleanor however had other plans it seemed she called late for a very early impromptu meeting. You agreed somewhat apprehensively. You were surprised when you didn’t see Kate in the waiting room the surprise didn’t last long. You were called into her office rather quickly. You watched as Eleanor stood from her desk ready to greet you. “Y/n, so happy you could make it!” You moved to greet her and returned the hug she offered. “Me too… uhm” you couldn’t hide the confusion. “I just thought Kate was going to be here. She nods smiling. “She did mention a disagreement… fight.” She corrected. “Unfortunately Kate is obsessed with that man and the Avengers.” You nodded. “I’ve tried Mrs.Bishop I just can’t dissuade her.” Another smile spreads on her face. 

“I know Y/n, you won’t have to worry about that much longer.” Her words confuse you, she can tell. “I only mean that everything will fall into place.” She rephrased. You nodded. “Well now on to why you’re here.” You nod. There’s a knock at the door. “Your ten o’clock is here would you like me to tell her to wait?” Eleanor shook her head. “Send her in.” You move to leave her office but her hand stops you in your tracks. “This is why I called.” A small oh leave your mouth and you sit back down. “Y/n this is Yelena, she’s the daughter of a board member she is in town for the holidays, and needs someone to show her around.” You smile and greet the girl. “I told them Kate would show her around but seeing as my daughter… well I thought who better than y/n.” You smile at her consideration. She turns to Yelena. “Y/n she’s like my second daughter. You couldn’t be in better hands.” Yelena smiles. “I can believe it.” Her subtle accent makes you smile. 

Eleanor moves back to her desk. “Well, girls I’ll let you go, have fun.” You smile and wave goodbye. Before you completely manage to walk out the door you hear her call out. “Y/n I’ll handle Kate, don’t hold it against her.” You falter at her words, but you still nod. As soon as you’re out you look at the girl next to you and smile. “So what would you like to see first?” She laughs. “That’s why I’m here, for you to show me around!” You laugh. “Okay, okay I know exactly where to take you.” She smiles and nods. “Please, lead the way.” 

It had been three days since, and Kate still hadn’t reached out and you weren't necessarily itching to do it. “I ordered pizza, hope you don’t mind.” Yelena interrupted your inner thoughts. You chuckled shaking your head. “It’s perfect I was getting hungry.” She smiled and plopped down next to you. You and Yelena had hit it off and had been inseparable the last couple of days. You were laughing at the TV when you were interrupted by a knock on the door. Yelena jumped to open the door exited the pizza had finally gotten there. It’s only when she doesn’t immediately close the door that you move to see what the hold-up was. “So you’re not the pizza delivery?” You hear Yelena’s confused voice. “What are you doing here Kate?” She shuffles a little before answering your question. “Well we didn’t really leave on good terms last time we saw each other, and I was coming to talk things out.” Then her eyes shift to Yelena in front of you. “But uhm… I can see that you’re busy, and we can talk about this later.” Her eyes are still on Yelena. Before you could even put the words together Yelena beat you to it. “Yes, that's probably for the best.” She said glancing back at you. “Here’s the money for the pizza thanks.” She took the pizza and walked into the apartment leaving you at the door. 

You can see the questions in Kate's eyes and you just shake your head. “We should talk soon, tomorrow?” Kate nodded and walked off. You closed the door softly and sighed. It was for the best that you didn’t talk to Kate right at that moment you didn’t even know what to say. You walked towards the kitchen and sat in front of Yelena at the table. “Now that was more interesting than everything you showed me.” She teased, and it made you laugh. “By far 10/10 would recommend it again, I mean the tension… off the charts!” You scoffed. “We went to all the places you wanted to see! I took you to all the stupid tourist places!” She laughed at that “I have to say you were an amazing tour guide.” She cheesed. “I’m guessing that’s Kate?” You nod taking a bite of your pizza, humming at the taste. “She doesn’t look like a walking death wish… I actually don’t know what I expected.” And just like that Yelena moved on. “Movies?” You smiled grateful for her tact. 

Kate's mind was reeling, who was that woman, and why did she look so comfortable in your apartment? She was too distracted by the idea that she failed to notice her mother waiting at her door. “Kate I’ve been waiting for you!” She said cheerfully. Her eyes sparkled. Kate tried to match her mother’s smile but failed. “I’m sorry I swung by y/n’s place like you said. You know to talk things over… She had company.” Her mother tapped her forehead. “I forgot I had y/n and Yelena meet up! I’m glad that they hit it off!” Kate was flabbergasted. “You set y/n up, why?” Her mother shook her head in denial. “I did not set her up! I just had a feeling that they would hit it off.” Kate could not believe the words coming from her mother’s mouth. Anger started to creep in. “And what feeling was that exactly?” Her mother paid no mind to her thinly veiled anger. “That they would get along y/n is a good girl and someone like Yelena would be good for her.” She reasoned. Kate swore she saw red. 

“So you did set her up!” Her tone was now raised and clipped. “Kate I didn’t tell her to sleep with the girl if that’s what you’re asking!” Kate felt a pang in her chest. “Now my question is why you’re so upset about it?” Kate scoffed. “Now that is something I’m very interested in.” She ignored Kate’s indignation. “I’m not!” She said defensively. “I just think it is odd that you are meddling in her love life.” It wasn’t just about that. Everything about you being with that woman felt wrong, fundamentally. “Well, it shouldn’t she is practically my daughter, one who by the way listens and actually uses my advice!” Kate scoffed. “We both know why that is.” Kate spat. She regretted the words as soon as she said them. She had a habit of not thinking things through. Her mother winced her eye twitching not giving in to the obvious provocation. “I know you, you will hurt her…” Kate’s eyes widened. Her throat suddenly dry she sputtered trying to find the words. “Y/n and I… we- we haven’t…” 

“No, you haven’t, and it should stay that way.” Kate was again left speechless. Her mother continued. “Y/n holds a very important position in our board of investors, I’d rather keep things clean and uncomplicated.” She punctuated. “To keep her on my side.” Her tone was clinical. Kate scoffed. “It is clear that she won’t make you choose. So I will.” Then suddenly the air was pulled out of her chest. “You’ll lose her either way! Do you truly believe y/n will stick around to watch you throw your life away!” Her mother spoke, Kate had never seen her mother like this. “You have no right to do this! This is my life!” Her mother shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong the moment you decided to put your life in danger, was the moment that as your mother I decided to step in! I have every right…” Kate was pacing at this point. Her fingers were on her temples. “So you’re making me choose?” Eleanor nodded. Kate scoffed calling her mother’s bluff. “You don’t have that kind of power, not over me not over y/n .” Her mother sighed. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Why don’t we find out?” With that, the older woman walked away from her. Her words left Kate cold. She shook the thought away you wouldn’t play into her mother’s hand, would you? 

The thought continued to eat at Kate the following days. It had been three days now that you had pushed your meet up. Three days that felt like weeks to her. Her mother was using you against her in the worst way possible. She knew, how she felt and still felt comfortable putting her in that position. She was not going to let it slide any longer. She was at your door again her fist raised to knock on your door. Only this time she didn’t have to, it opened before her hand could touch the wood. “Oh, Kate!” Your tone surprised. “Are- were you going somewhere?” Kate stuttered. “To find you actually…” you said a small smile playing on your lips. Kate’s heart fluttered in her chest, nodding as you let her walk in and get settled. “Can we talk?” Kate’s tone was soft but serious. You nodded softly. Kate sighed relieved. Just as she was about to speak you beat her to it. “I’m sorry.” Kate froze. What? “I’ve realized I can’t force you to stop doing things, even if I really want to I just can’t.” Your words were sincere. Kate was at a loss for words. She wasn’t going to mention it but she was ready to have it out with you again. She had prepared for it even, she was slightly disappointed about that. “Yelena pointed out to me that I was being a shitty friend, and she was right.” You just had to keep speaking… Just like that, she was annoyed again. “Who- who even is she?” Kate asked probing your response. “Uhm your mom didn’t tell you?” You questioned. Kate shook her head. “Your mom introduced us, she’s also going to be a part of the board.” 

It was only then that she reasoned her mother was not bluffing. This made too much sense. Having you and Yelena in her pocket would work out for her mother. She hated to say it but it was a smart move. Kate managed a small “cool” as she ruminated on the thought. “You two have gotten very close.” She wasn’t asking you realized. You nodded. “She’s a good person.” Kate almost scoffed. “One could argue I’m a better person! I could save the world one day.” She said smugly. “That’s if you don’t get yourself killed before then, sure.” The reply was waiting to come out she realized, and she grimaced. Kate backtracked. “How about a movie?” She reasoned and you couldn’t deny her, you did miss her. “I have time for one.” You said glancing at your watch. She smiled and got comfortable on your couch laying her head on your lap. She sighed all was right again. Truth be told Kate paid no mind to the movie once your fingers started running through her hair she knew there was no point in trying to keep up. Then you had to open your pretty mouth. “Kate I have to go.” The credits were now rolling on the screen. “Kate come on I really do… you can come with if you’d like?” She was eager to. “Where to?” She questioned. “Yelena wanted to volunteer at a soup kitchen… she saw it in a movie and wanted to do it.” 

There was a look of what you could only say was pure dissatisfaction. Your answer was not something she liked in the least bit. You’re both interrupted by Kate’s ringing phone. “Clint” you hear her mutter getting up from your lap and walking a short distance away. When she turns back your shoes are on and keys in your hand ready to leave. An expectant look on your face. “I- uhm duty calls.” She said uncertainly pointing to her phone. “Figured…” a displeased look on your face, which did not go unnoticed. Before she could address it you were halfway to the door. “Let yourself out, I’m going to be late! Lock up…” She could only watch as you did. You stopped suddenly at the now open door. “Be careful.” She couldn’t even reply you stepped out and closed the door behind you. You were gone again.

The following days were rough on Kate. Dealing with the ever-growing problem with Clint, fighting, and training. On top of that dealing with her mother, she was having a hard time compensating. Most grueling of all you were giving her the cold shoulder. Her mother had been directly working against her on that front, so she wasn’t too surprised. She however should’ve known her mother was willing to take it further. You were too nice to completely blow off Kate. So here you both were having family dinner with her mother. “You know y/n Yelena has spoken very highly of you, her father was very pleased to hear it!” You smiled softly your cheeks dusting a shade of pink. All of which didn’t go unnoticed. “She’s fun to hang out with, she gets me… shares my work ethic. She’s ambitious like few are these days.” Eleanor’s eyes shift to Kate a brow raised knowingly. “That is so good to hear y/n!”

The following words made Kate seethe internally cursing her mother. “You know y/n now that I think about it… Your parents met at around your age.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Mom…” Kate cut in. “I think you are right,” you said ignoring Kate’s interruption. Eleanor chuckles taking a small sip from her wine turning her attention back to her daughter. “They would make a cute couple, don’t you think Kate?” Her mother was not holding back, she was not willing to play into her hand. Still, she replied. “Y/n would make a cute couple with literally anyone… Put her next to the ugliest person on earth and she’d cancel out the ugly.” You chuckled at her thought. “Thanks, Kate.” Kate froze for a second you’d acknowledged her. She shook her head. “But Y/n barely knows this girl. She should take her time.” And somehow you were still smiling. “I am… taking my time.” Your eyes were far away. Perhaps your thoughts as well.

A/n: Surprise shawty!!! Happy New Year. This has been sitting in the drafts for a hot minute, please let me know If y’all liked and would like to see a second installment. First time really delving into Kate kinda rough ngl. I have another installment of remember a time, it’s done should be up next week. Abstract love is still in development you’ll get some more angst and of course cuteness ensues. As always have a great day and know you’re loved!

[janeyshivers]

i think a big part of the reason why, even when Pratchett was alive, it was always Rowling who was held up as the gold standard of a modern British fantasy author, is that Pratchett was above all else just far more honest about like, The English writ large.

a lot of ink has been spilled on the saccharine nostalgia of Harry Potter books, particularly as they went on, that longing for the WW2 Blitz spirit that Rowling herself didn't actually live through, but is lionised in our culture and was subsequently regurgitated uncritically by her, on account of her being an unimaginative hack. "keep calm and carry on" is the core aesthetic of the later books, while the earlier ones are far more of the sort of irritating, faux-charming, brilliant baffling bouncing Britishness that captured the hearts of teaboos who knew no better around the world, and also presented a highly self-flattering image to the people who have to actually live on this shithole island. this was especially true of cultural institutions such as schools, libararies, etc, who found it germaine to push these middling children's books relentlessly on kids, while massive multimillion dollar movie projects were cranked out, because they were deeply, painfully in love with a cutesy mirage of England that we like to project to the world to cover for the fact that this place is the husk of a dead empire, inhabited by tiny islands of obscene hoarded wealth in an increasingly desperate sea of insane deprivation and poverty.

and on a certain surface-level reading, you could almost accuse Pratchett of doing the same thing. after all, he also wrote whimsical fantasy tales largely set in a transparently England-ish setting (that is, Ankh-Morpork and the surrounding countryside areas on the Discworld). they even feature lots of witches and wizards! his books are full of bumbling, good-natured Englishmen doffing their caps to the lord, scenic countryside vistas, dirty and yet charming city streets, bustling fairs, rascally pickpockets, and generally a lot of the same aesthetic signifiers of Rowling's earlier work especially.

but.

read any amount of Pratchett's stuff and you realise very quickly that he understands that there is a persistent, genuinely violent nastiness underpinning a lot of this stuff. I Shall Wear Midnight is a good example, as the honest, hard-working country folk of the Chalk never even acknowledge the shameful mob killing of the old toothless woman who Tiffany has had to bury. these charming communities are places where well-known cases of domestic violence go unaddressed until a pregnant girl is beaten so badly she has a miscarriage, and they are places where miserable, curtain-twitching sneaks spread lies and rumours with impunity. Guards, Guards! fits here as well, a book about how the not-insincere love of the people of Ankh Morpork for their new king is insane and destructive and ends up getting quite a lot of innocent people killed.

what i appreciate most about how Pratchett talks about this stuff is that neither the nastiness nor the more charming elements are artifice. while they seem to exist as a contradiction at first glance, a core feature of English culture from Pratchett's perspective is that these impulses exist in a tense balance at all times. Mr Petty hits his daughter until she miscarries, and also stings his hands gathering nettles to make a little grave for the poor kid before trying to hang himself. that doesn't make what he did ok, but it does mean grappling with the fact that people are complicated and don't make sense, culture doesn't entirely cohere, and that the things you might like about "Englishness" are part and parcel of some genuinely horrifying shit.

obviously i'm not going to sit here and pretend that Pratchett was some plucky underdog compared to Rowling, the dude had a knighthood, and there are even a few movies based on his stuff (I'm rather partial to the 2008 The Colour of Magic adaptation myself), although nothing on the scale of the Potter movies. but at a glance, it does seem strange that Rowling was our nation's marquis literary export in the 2000s, considering that Pratchett was more established, working in the same genre, and also a significantly more technically skilled and insightful writer than her. but, that's the thing, he was insightful enough that his writing didn't make for decent cultural slop like Rowling's did. Harry Potter is vapid enough for corporate interests and cultural institutions to build a multinational media empire on, not through some insidious conspiracy to poison the minds of a generation of irritating millenials, but because it was there and it was popular enough and it was easy to use, because it's not very complicated or challenging. Discworld is not perfect by any means, and i have my personal disagreements with Pratchett's (relatively) rosy perspective on humans as being fundamentally very decent. but the stories make you think, they encourage you to engage with the world critically, and they are written with a degree of empathy and kindness that clash with any earnest attempt to shore up "English values".

[millylotus]

Batfam Favorite Colors

I've been thinking about this mostly cause I don't think Duke like, really likes yellow ya know. And then I realized how many people in the batfam like the color red/have it in like their top two.

Duke! - My guy! My boy! I think his favorite colors are Red & Orange, & like black as an accent color. He doesn't were white often because that's like not easy to clean, and he never really got into the habit even when he started living with the Waynes. The most is like a graphic-tee or basic tee, or undershirt, something that he needs for specific fits ya know. When he was a kid Donnie was his favorite turtle, but Raph is a very close second mainly cause he was the red one. He liked yellow well enough. But when Bruce gave him the Signal suit his feelings on the color changed over time. Signal never really felt like his own thing. He didn't even get to choose the name, and the yellow, and the light and his complicated relationship with both Bruce & Gnomon made him sort of uncomfortable with yellow. He doesn't wear it much out of the suit and he tends to even stray from gold jewelry, sticking to silver and black. He wouldn't say he hates it, both a bit scared & unsure on what that might mean. But nothing in his room is yellow except gifts from those who really don't know him well.

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Jason! Jason likes Red, he's always liked red, but when he was younger he like Yellow a bit more. It was the color of the cape [basically a cloak lets be honest] he wore as Robin. And Robin gave him magic. The cape was protection and light all at once. It made him feel special. When he died and came back yellow lost it's luster, it was innocence, it was naivety it was dead magic. And he just wasn't gonna go back to it once he became Red Hood. That perfect little Robin needed his color to be kept sacred. So Jason doesn't wear yellow anymore. Like at all, he avoids it and even gold in most cases. He likes red, cause it's red and it's pretty and once before it might have meant a beating heart, now it meant fresh blood & he doesn't think he deserves any other connotation.

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Timbit! - How I lo(v)(th)e you :)))) Tim's favorite colors are Red, Brown & Gold. He says he likes red more, and he does love red really, but at his heart of hearts it Brown, Gold & Blue. But he felt a need as a child to conform to what the batfamily wanted. He vaguely understood how siblings where with each other & knew he could only have one color to call his own. So he chose red, cause Dick likes Blue, & Jason liked Yellow, & Babs likes Purple. Cause what other color was there. He grew to love Blue because of Dick, that's his brother and that specific shade of electric/sky blue felt like home. But he really likes browns, like genuinely shades of brown are his favorite and his entire house-boat has such nice shades of brown wood. He shrinks away from using white in anything but a clinical setting, and fills all that space with a nice beige or pale gold. Gold & Brown just go so well together how could he not love them both. He loves brown eyes and for a long time unknowingly went for people with brown eyes alot [not me pushing my brown-eyed steph propaganda].

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Dami-baby! Damian's favorite colors are Green, Brown, Black, & Gold. I know most don't like the Al Ghuls, and yeah they're fucked up but so is the Bat-Family, and honestly I think Damian cares about both sides of his family. Sometimes when he's laying in bed, not even trying to sleep he looks at his rooms and yearns lightly for the perfect brown stone walls of his childhood bedroom. Of the beams, columns & spandrels of dark brown, engraved with images of his favorite animals. Of the curtains and fabrics dyed emerald green, with golden cross-stitching. It feels like home. And as times goes on he makes peace with his homesickness, doing so by bringing that green into his things at the manor. Up against the dark brown walls that he'd go and put bright paintings over. He likes black though, never really thought he would and more so forced himself to when he was younger and still trying to be his father. But at some point he grew to genuinely love the color of shadow black. It began to mean home & protection, along the previous danger & deception [though in a better light]. He'd wear it more with a casual air and not so much overthinking about it. They really just are his favorite colors

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Casssssandra! Cass likes Black, White & Rose Gold. Basic as it may seem to you I think she likes them quite alot. She unironically has a very luxury taste for things. She like fine jewelry and master made clothes. Everything in her life is expensive, she lives in the lap of luxury. And that's not in some dumb way where she doesn't know how much things cost. She does & she's very aware, she's just always had this. David Cain might not have taught her how to do much more than fight but every weapon needs far above optimal care. She likes the uniformity of black, the pretty simplicity of it, how it hides shape and movement, a secret all of it's own. She likes white because it accentuates shape, white gets shadows, shadows that show off the light of white. She likes the way they make her feel, all mysterious but also open and accepting. Rose Gold is just the prettiest to her, it's so rich & soft, & bright & mute, it's her favorite metal and any jewelry she has will be made of it.

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Babsy - Bad seed watchu gonna do, got a bully on our tail gotta run we gotta bail! I think her favorite colors are Purple & Green. She grew up loving purple, it was in all of her clothes and accessories. She had strips of her hair dyed purple as a kid & then got those adjustable scene kid extensions in purple. Her Batgirl fit is all purple because she had more purple than black and she wasn't gonna change that. To this day purple is her favorite color, but she'll have seconds here and there. Green is a close second fave, it grew on her as she got older. When she was trying to set her self up as Oracle, it was green that people often associated with Oracles & Tech at the time. So she ran with it for consistency and it eventually became a favorite. It melded in with purple and about a little less than half of her once purple things are now green.

-----

STE-PHA-NIE-AH! Steph likes Purple, and she's sweet on Black. She's always been a pretty feminine person, a finding herself as a femme latter in life. And Purple was her girly Pink. It just spoke to her it made her feel happy. She wears as much Purple as she can get her hands, and every major item in her wardrobe in Purple. Of course in a coordinated way so it doesn't look ridiculous but still. Black was just a nice accent color for her, before it grew to mean safety & deception, and in a way it compliments her bombastic & free Purple she so loves.

-----

Hickory-Dick-ory! Dick's favorite colors as a child are Red, Green, & Yellow. Because that's him, that Robin, that's the Graysons. His family legacy carried on in one other iconic performance outfits. For a long time he would never dream of not being in those colors of being Robin. But of course everyone changes, and Dick's favorite colors change. He loves being Robin but he's grown older, in a sense he's molting those colorful feathers. He wants to be a grown man [even though he's still a teenager, somewhere between 16-19], but to the whole world Robin is a child & will always be a child, Batman's sunshine, Batman's hope. Robin is nothing without Batman in that era and Dick knows that. And he still loves Robin he truly deeply does, but he can't be Robin without being seen as a child & he can't fucking stand that he can't have that. So he makes a bit of a pivot. He gets a deepcut V-Neck and skin tight Drag-King fit that honestly absolutely fucks. And he choses a name both so edgy & so cool, and he picks a different costume to base this new him on. And he falls absolutely in love with Blue. And he never falls out of it, he still like Red, Green, & Yellow. But Blue has somehow taken his heart away & is never gonna give it back. Needless to say his wardrobe has done a complete 180 in comparison to when he was 12.

-----

Bruce. o_o His fave is Black, I know a shocker truly, who could have guessed! But he also has a complicated relationship with literally ever other color. Black is simple, it's straight forward, gets the job done. He finds comfort in it's shadow & cover & protection. Of the caves & bats he once found terrifying now bringing him so much peace. But it isn't a solely void color, it's built up of the vibrancy & intensity of every color ever. And with different blacks there are more colors that show through. He likes a nice blue-black, he's been told it goes well with his eyes, but it's also the color of Martha's favorite velvet dress. He gravitates towards red-black because many of his children enjoy that color. In fact if you look close enough & graph it you'll notice Bruce wears specif hues of black depending on which child is most around him.

-----

Random Disclaimer~ - I'm gonna speed blitz the rest of these bat-bitches Kate K! - Red & Black, but in the way that she uses Red to try & recapture her fear of it and use to scare others. Watching he mom blead out red, and her hair in that blood fucked her up. But now she looks like the bloody demon that haunted her. Martha W - She likes creams & pearly colors, and has a special spot for dark blues and such. And enjoys a nice velvet sheen to any and all colors Talia AlG - Her faves are Pink, White, Green, & Gold. Absolutely adores those colors, you will find them everywhere in her wardrobe, but they aren't all she has of course she's a fashionista. Femininity is her, truly.

[delilahgrey14]

୨⎯ An Educational Affair ⎯୧

╰┈➤Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x fem!Reader 

╰┈➤ Word Count: 2418

╰┈➤ Summary: You are an educator at the X-Mansion, along with the history teacher and famous X-Men, Logan Howlett (aka Wolverine). One day you decide to perform a little experiment on Logan, just to see how it will go. You want to see if your long time friend will fall for you in-between classes. How will it go? Will you pass…or will you fail? 

╰┈➤ TW:   <18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE>   Mentions of PTSD (In reference to Logan’s memories), Alcoholism, Language, Sensuality, Pet Names, Moderate Sexual Content (P in V, protected, consensual sex), Sex in Public? (Kinda?), Minor Reference To Praise Kink

╰┈➤ Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you enjoy, I just wanted to put a quick note in here that may or may not help, but while writing this I pictured more of the movie version of Logan Howlett, so any references to him being taller than the reader or any references to stature were more geared to that physique, but as the reader it is ENTIRELY your choice to picture him in any way you see fit! (I just have a problem with Hugh Jackman lol)

-D.G.

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

It was just another day at the X-Mansion. You had become familiar with the entire place, inside and out. After working there as a teacher for about three years, you were a professional when it came to keeping yourself occupied in-between classes. All of the other teachers and X-Men always had something going on, whether that be saving the world or being a mentor to the younger mutants in the school, but you found yourself spending more time alone. Occasionally you would talk to the other X-Men and educators, but only one of them really caught your eye…Logan. 

A history professor at the mansion and famous member of the X-Men, he was an amazing person to talk to. Although it took many years to get to that point, Logan loved to share stories about all of the years and events that he was a part of. You were always so grateful for Professor Xavier helping Logan get his memories back, they were so entertaining, and you were always there for him when the memories got a little too hard to handle. For years Logan relied on copious amounts of whiskey to get through these memories, but the longer that the two of you knew each other, the more willing he was to put the bottle down and let you comfort him. 

You developed feelings for him with time as well, not only did you care for him, but damn was he  hot. The way that he would make those flannels and jeans look like they were made just for him. The way that his blue eyes shimmered when the sun hit them just right, and the fact that he only showed his soft side to you was so…damn…hot. Sometimes you found yourself fantasizing about how his rough, calloused, skin would feel against yours. How his warm soft lips would feel on yours. How big his-…no. You couldn’t, he was your friend. Friends shouldn’t think so much about how amazing it would feel to be taken by another friend…but what if he thought about those things too? How could you ever know if you didn’t try to drop a few hints? 

You came up with a plan, and it was foolproof. You would start slowly, a change in perfume, a new lipstick, maybe unbutton one more button on your blouse when you went to go see him in between his classes? Surely he would notice, and sure maybe nothing would come of it…but it could work. You decided that you would start your little experiment the next day, it was a Tuesday so that would mean that you would have the rest of the week to keep up this little plan and if nothing changed by Friday, you would attempt to move on from this little crush you have developed. 

On Tuesday, you decided to try out a new perfume, well, new for him. It was a bottle that you kept in the back of your closet that you only pulled out on special occasions, and this was perfect. You pulled on your best pencil skirt, black heels, linen blouse, and black thin frame glasses and headed over to teach your classes for the day. All went well, but it was a little hard to focus on teaching literature when you were too excited to see Logan’s reaction to your little ruse after class. Once your last class was over and you knew Logan’s was too, you made your way over to his designated classroom. In Logan fashion, he was drinking a bottle of something that was concealed in a stainless steel travel mug. You let out an accusatory cough and gave him a look that said I thought we talked about this. 

“Hey! This is coffee. JUST coffee.” Logan said, defending his progress in moving on from his addition to the substance.

As you made your way from the door over to his desk, making sure to put a little extra sway in your hips, you saw him take notice of the new scent. Alongside his visible mutations, Logan had an extremely strong sense of smell, so nothing seemed to get past him.

“Did you put on a new perfume? It’s nice…”

You smiled, glad that your little plan was beginning to work. 

“I did, I’m glad to see that you noticed. How was class?” You said, continuing to smirk

He regained his composure, he had been lost in an almost trance like state, taking in not only what seemed to be the perfume, but all of you. You never noticed him do this before, but you loved it.

“Uh, fine. The kids didn’t want to hear any of it, as per usual. How about yours?”

“Good, good.” You were enjoying seeing him trying to hide how flustered you were making him feel.

“Well uh, anyways. I better get going. I have…uh, papers to grade? Yeah. See ya”

He scurried out of the room, you couldn’t help but notice how much he was smiling when he left. You couldn’t wait to see how the rest of your experiments would go.

You continued to change one little thing each day, and each day he seemed to get just a little more intrigued and interested in you. The lipstick made him lock onto your lips for your entire conversation, the blouse had a similar effect, it was time to pull it all together. It was Friday, the final day that you were going to play this little game. You decided to put all of it together. The enticing perfume, the ruby red lipstick, the low cut silk blouse that showed off just enough to drive Logan crazy. Once again you got your best, black, tight pencil skirt that showed off your curves just right, black stilettos that made the whole thing come together, and your trademark thin rimmed black glasses. Perfect. Once again, you made your way to your class, taught a few lessons on Shakespeare, then when they were over, made your way to Logan’s classroom.

Instantly you could see the look on his face turn from a bored expression to one that was borderline feral. 

“Sweetheart, I have no clue what you have been up to this week…but I can’t say I don’t like it. What has gotten into you”

He looked you up and down, taking in everything, every part of you. Not just the new additions, but ALL of you. He approached you with a slow, smooth walk, and when he finally came up to you, he had a look in his eyes that screamed that he wanted you so bad. You couldn’t believe it, it worked! He was obsessed with you, and you were willing to take this to the next level. With a wave of confidence, you said,

“You know, there aren’t any more classes for the rest of the day…and it’s just you, and me, and this empty classroom…” You gave a little wink and a smirk as you unbuttoned another button on your blouse, revealing the tiniest bit of a black, lacey, bra you put on to complete the look. This was it, the final thing to make him go absolutely insane…

He no more than let you finish your sentence before he ran over to the classroom door, shut and locked it, then ran back to you. 

“Darlin’ you are playing with fire here. If you want this, I want this, but I need to hear you say it.” He looked at you with desperation in his eyes, he wanted this now as much as you did.

You made your way over to his desk and leaned against it, a seductive look in your eyes. Licking your lips, you pulled out a condom from your bra and held it up, teasingly.

“Come here, handsome”

As if all of his restraint flew right out the window, he rushed over to you. He kissed you passionately, pushing his tongue into your mouth. This was everything you hoped it would be. He moved his lips from yours to your neck, moving with a fierceness, like he had a mission and knew exactly what he was doing. He began to move his hands down your body, tracing your curves, feeling you, needing to feel more, and the stubborn blouse you were wearing was getting in the way. He cleared off the desk, pens and books clanking to the ground, grabbed you by the waist, hoisted you up onto the desk, and swiftly pushed your tight skirt up so he could push your legs apart. Oh god he was so hot, he did everything like he was on a mission, and it was so attractive how much it seemed like he needed you. He moved his hands from your exposed thighs and back up to your blouse, your breathing was quickening, every time he touched you he sent shivers down your body, the heat growing between your legs each minute. Logan fiddled with the buttons on your blouse, cursing under his breath at the fact that he couldn’t get them undone. 

“Fuck…these damn buttons, ugh. Fuck it.” He exclaimed, “Sorry sweetheart, I’ll get you a new one”

He ripped the blouse with his bare hands, his strength was so attractive. He rolled the shirt off of your shoulders, fully exposing the lacy black bra. Tossing the shirt off of the desk, Logan let out in a low growl,

“God you are so beautiful, how was I able to wait this long to have you”

He kissed you more, gasping for air in between each deep, passionate kiss. He was grabbing your breast with one hand and beginning to move his other in between your legs. You let out a soft moan as his hand grazed the outside of your panties, which were becoming soaked the longer that his hand remained there. He grabbed the matching black panties and pulled them down gently to your knees, looking into your eyes with a sexy, dark look, like he was preparing himself to pounce. You decided you wanted to be a part of all the action too, you removed your glasses and set them aside, then removed the white shirt that Logan was wearing, placing your hands on his chest and sliding them down to his jeans, beginning to unbutton those too, exposing his protruding and obvious bulge through his underwear.

“Someone is excited to see me, hm?” You said in a flirtatious tone. 

He chuckled in return, now pulling down his waistband swiftly and quickly grabbing the condom you had teased him with from before and rolled it, somehow seductively, onto his massive cock. As you watched him do so, you were reaching the point where all you wanted was for him to be inside of you. You began to tremble in anticipation, grabbing at his neck and shoulders and pulling him closer to you, kissing him passionately once your lips met. Logan slid you forward on the desk in one swift movement, moving your skirt up further in the process so that you were now fully exposed to him. You were pulsing, every breath felt heavy and you were becoming impatient. As you tried to get yourself closer to him, trying to get him to give you what you wanted, he gave you a sensual, commanding look. 

“Ah ah, sweetheart. Someone is getting a little impatient on me…but you aren’t getting anything until you tell me how much you want this.” He said with a devilish grin, like he knew exactly how much this was driving you crazy.

You looked up at him with desperation in your eyes, your breathing was strained and your usually confident, steady voice was now reduced to a whimper. As if to make things worse, Logan moved his hand down, moving slowly and softly over your sensitive clit.

“Logan…I…uh, need…you, please.” You begged, trying to keep steady through your growing moans, he knew exactly what to do to make you feel so good, but still needing more.

He smiled, getting what he wanted from you.

“That's my good girl, telling me what you need.”

He placed his calloused hands on your waist, and slowly guided himself into you. He let out a growl while you let out a loud moan as soon as he was inside. When he knew that you were ready, he found a rhythm that felt amazing. You were never one that was able to finish fast, but you found yourself quickly reaching your precipice in his care. In a menagerie of moans and heavy breathing, you found the strength to sputter out, 

“Logan…I’m so close…” 

You were shivering now, your entire body contracting, which only made Logan more turned on than ever before.

“Come for me sweetheart, you can do it. Be a good girl and come for me.” He commanded. It felt so good when he would talk to you like you were his.

You were so close, you clenched around him, your entire body pulsing with arousal. You were so close, and by the sound of his groans, he was too. You did as he said, reaching the edge and falling into the abyss of ecstasy as fast as you got there. Crying out in pure bliss as you rode the waves of your orgasm, you saw the look on his face become a mixture of pleasure and a seductive smile.

“Good job sweetheart, you are so good, fuck.” He moaned

No more than a few seconds later came one final thrust and a full body shiver from Logan. Both now satisfied, you both made your way to the floor, leaning against the desk and holding each other. You were amazed by how good that felt. God, you knew that a man that handsome and talented had to be good at sex, but you could never quite comprehend HOW good that was going to be. Logan had handed you his old sweatshirt he got when he first came to the mansion to make up for the ripped blouse from before. With his arm wrapped around your shoulder, he kissed the top of your head and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“That was the best time I've ever had darlin’. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

You nodded, placing your head on his shoulder, you never wanted this moment to end. What did this mean? Were you more than friends? You didn’t know, but right now you didn’t care. This was the best idea you had ever had.