#motorcycle stopping power

[goodoldbandit]

Mastering Motorcycle Brakes: A Rider’s Guide to Safety and Control

Good Old Bandit Good Old Bandit. https://gob.stayingalive.in/unleashing-the-thrills-of/mastering-motorcycle-brakes.html Discover the critical role of motorcycle front and rear brakes and learn techniques to prevent accidents by mastering their use. Safety begins with control! Riding a motorcycle is exhilarating, but with that thrill comes responsibility. Unlike cars, motorcycles demand precise…

[oceanwithouthermoon]

hi you will understand my view

saiki has a lot of boxes full of shopkins and miniature things in general

one day in the middle of a hang out w the gang they're bored in his room and he pulls out one of this bad bitches

ignore the low quality 😭

FUCKKKK YESSS. I DO. I DO UNDERSTAND.

there needs to be like a masterlist of kusuos fixations/special interests LOL but mini things is definitely one of them.. i like to imagine him with a little dollhouse full of shopkins and other mini things so he can shrink down to their size and hangout inside.. sorry that's so silly but i love it LMAO imagine his parents walking into his room and hes in a little mini hammock in a barbie dreamhouse..

omg kusuo writes in a diary but nobody can read it because its mini and he writes in it when hes tiny..

sorry im gonna keep adding my own stupid things to this but. some of his other fixations include zelda, my little pony, mario kart, hot wheels, stuffed animals, the frozen movies (specific ik), vocaloid (pjsk)..

remember how he made his dads figurine move like a real robo-suit when he was in it ? that but with hot WHEELS and those little mario kart figures oh my GOD. sorry.

i still believe that all of the objects and collections he's accumulated because of his fixations are all in hidden places around his room because he's embarrassed of them since like. collecting cute plushies and shopkins isnt a thing the average teenage boy would do. like his closet and the space underneath his bed or even boxes underneath his desk are like portals to another fucking world bro.

[ninjastormz]

[ryoukio]

Infecting all of my friends with Leon Kennedy disease. Not sorry (a little sorry).

[slut4thebroken]

Tease

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason’s bike gets destroyed and you have to pick him up, but you can’t resist teasing him.

Warnings | Smut, brief dry humping, riding?, public sex, creampie, teasing, motorcycle sex.

Words | 1.3 k

Notes | based on a pic I found lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You finally saw Jason and slowed to a stop right next to him. With a smirk, you flipped up the visor on your helmet and he rolled his eyes. 

“Not in the mood, princess.” He said plainly, stepping closer. “Move.” 

“And let you destroy my bike too? No thanks. You can be the backpack this time.” Your smirk widened at the power you had over him right now. When he didn’t move, you added, “Or you can walk home…?” He scoffed and rolled his eyes again, but reluctantly climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around you. “Good boy.” You said smugly. 

He suddenly reached up to grab the chin of your helmet and forcefully turned you around enough for him to see you. “Quit it.” He hissed, clearly losing his patience. Your smirk remained, but you relented for now. He let you turn back around, then you started driving. Jason didn’t actually explain what he was doing this far away from Gotham, but it was going to take at least 30 minutes for you to get home. 

You waited until you were on a highway, then leaned forward, arching your back and pushing your ass against his crotch. His hands moved to grip your hips, not worried about needing to hold on since you were going to be driving at an even speed for a while. When one hand squeezed your ass over your jeans, you bit your lip, trying not to get too distracted by his hands on your body and the vibration from the bike directly on your clit with the way you were bent over. 

His hands suddenly left you and you frowned, wanting to turn around to see why he let go, but needing to keep your eyes on the road. After a moment, he grabbed your jeans and pulled them away from your body, then sliced the seam with a knife. 

“Jason!” You yelled, even though he definitely couldn’t hear you. He grabbed the torn fabric and ripped it even more, exposing your panties that he also ripped. When you felt the blunt head of his cock on your entrance, you finally understood what was happening. 

He lined up and started pulling you back by your hips, impaling you on his thick cock inch by torturous inch until it was fully sheathed inside you. The stretch burned a little, but any pain was easily ignored by the feeling of him filling you up, and the coil of arousal starting to build in your stomach. 

You let out a shaky breath and he groped your ass roughly, giving you a firm spank before moving his hands up your arched back. Right before he reached your shoulder blades, he snaked them around to grope your breasts, making you whine. It was dark out now and there were barely any people on the road, but the thought of getting caught still made your pussy flutter around his cock. 

After a few seconds, his hands dragged back down, following the path they came up, until he was squeezing your ass again. He suddenly grabbed the waistband of your jeans and used it to pull you backwards and down, then push you away again, slowly guiding your hips. It was incredibly hard to focus on driving while he was fucking you, but he kept the pace slow— You were both grateful and annoyed by that though. 

You finally exited the highway and continued on residential roads. The first time you stopped at a red light, he pulled you upright, then gripped your hips and started moving you up and down. You blushed furiously and tried to bat his hands away, but he was undeterred— At least no one was stopped at the red light with you. When you continued driving, he paused, letting you focus. 

However, the second time, there was a group of people standing on the corner, talking and laughing loudly. Jason was completely unbothered as he lifted your body up and down in a way that would’ve been obvious to anyone. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, not able to handle the embarrassment if you got caught. When he suddenly loosened his grip and you dropped down onto his cock with a startled yelp, your eyes snapped open and you saw that the light had turned green.

Jason tortured you like that the rest of the ride to his place. Even after you arrived and turned off the bike though, he didn’t let you move away. He started bouncing you on his cock again, forcing a startled moan out of you. The way he was using your body like you were nothing more than a fleshlight turned you on more than you thought possible, but the risk of getting caught was still in the back of your mind. 

“Jay…” You whined. Even though you were parked in a somewhat secluded area, you could occasionally see a car drive by on the main road. 

“Take it, tease.” He gruffed, making you whine again. You couldn’t help it when you scrambled to unbutton your jeans and slip your hand inside, frantically rubbing your clit as you neared your orgasm. Based on Jason’s sounds, he wasn’t too far behind.

You had to flip the visor of your helmet up when your panting breaths were starting to make it a little humid and you wished he’d take off his own helmet so you could hear his grunts and moans better. He started moving you faster, pulling you down harder, and your fingers sped up on your clit, desperately chasing your release. 

When you finally fell over the edge, you mewled and reached behind yourself with your free hand to grip his thigh. He grunted softly at the feeling of your pussy clamping down on his cock, feeling his own orgasm approaching. 

After your orgasm faded, your body practically went limp and your fingers slowed to a stop, but Jason continued fucking you on his cock. He was only getting more frantic and rough until he finally slammed you down all the way with a groan, his cock twitching as it spurted out ropes of come, painting your walls white. His grip on your hips was bruising as he ground you back and forth, milking every last drop of pleasure out of himself. 

When he finally relaxed, you both just sat there for a moment, panting heavily. He gently pushed you down with a hand between your shoulder blades, then lifted you off his cock, having a perfect view of your gaping pussy with the way your ass was upturned in this position. His come dribbled out slowly and your walls fluttered weakly, still reeling from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. 

Jason cursed under his breath and dragged two thick fingers up your slit, pushing his come back inside you, making you whine quietly. Once he was satisfied, he got off your bike and helped lift you off, holding you up when your knees wobbled. 

“You ruined my pants.” You pouted. His fingers hooked onto your helmet and jerked your head up to look at him. 

“Then you shouldn’t have been a brat and a tease.” You rolled your eyes and tried to turn away, but he just pulled you closer and bent down into your space. “Keep up the attitude and I’ll give you a proper punishment when we get inside. Is that what you want?” He warned. It was hard to think when you could feel his come leaking down your thighs, but you were still on a little bit of a power trip. 

“Punish me how?” You asked, defiance flashing in your eyes as you looked up at him. 

“Not letting you come, for starters.” You immediately frowned and it didn’t take him long to pick up on your expression. “That’s what I thought.”

[mywritersmind]

WALK ME LIKE A RUNWAY - LN4

summary : Lando doesn’t know anything about runways, especially a certain Victorias Secret runway that’s breaking the internet. When he gets the invite, it’s certainly a surprise, but with one old and one new friend by his side, he starts to see the appeal of this whole model thing. He likes it for one reason, and that reason is opening the whole show.

listen up : lando x vsangel!reader 💞✨ a bit long!! will prob be multiple parts if you guys like it!!

word count : 2192

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t know how I got here or why I was invited. But as I sit in my assigned seat as the girl next to me stares at me, I can’t help but think that my invitation was for a reason.

I have a good feeling about tonight, maybe it’s because i’m about to watch pretty girls walk in underwear and wings, or maybe it’s because that girl I mentioned looks like she’s itching to tell me something.

As soon as I look at her, she starts, “You’re Lando Norris.” She's pretty, has a short bob, pale skin, and is examining me closely.

“Yeah…” I nod slowly.

“Sorry. Big fan!” She laughs, “What are you doing here?”

“Good question… I was invited. Actually, my mate Carlos is supposed to-�� As if I spoke him into existence, the driver plops down next to me, “Hey!”

He grins and nods at the girl, “I’m Kay! My best friend is in the show!” I like Kay. She’s eyeing Carlos like he’s a piece of meat and it’s hilarious.

“So I don’t really understand… Why this runway is big a deal.” Kay practically scoffs in my face and immediately dives in, giving Carlos and I all the lore. After ten minutes of throwing random facts and stringing the whole story line together, I stop nodding and the lights go out.

“This is exciting.” Carlos nudges me, like he’s some big fan or something. Then again it’s a lingerie company so he’s probably a big supporter. “So your friend, how long has she been a model?”

“Forever!” Kay nods, lowering her voice and talking to Carlos across me, “But this is huge because it’s her first show with Victoria Secret and she’s opening it!”

The music starts and a motorcycle with a girl on it comes up from the stage, she starts singing and everyone is going absolutely crazy for her.

Carlos is basically dancing in his seat next to me and Kay is singing along, clapping her hands together.

I try not to think about awkward interview Carlos and I did on the pink carpet, the woman looked stunned that we were even there.

I focus on the girl singing again, it’s quite fun, I feel like i’m at a concert. The lights go out and the singer and her backups are gone.

Kay hits my arm excitedly, pointing to the stage. That’s when I realize the stage is lifting someone up.

The first thing I see are the wings, pink, sparkly and huge. But then I see her.

Fuck being model pretty, this girl looks like a legitimate angel. She’s got long legs, an insane body that’s being accentuated by the white lace that’s practically dripping off her. She's got long wavy hair that is streaked with highlights, and as soon as she starts walking I understand it.

She’s got confidence, fucking power. The room breaks into screams and applause as she grins, god her smile.

She’s elegant, beautiful, and breaks her model smize as she turns in my direction. She blows a kiss to Kay and the smile she pulls has me catching my breath.

The wings she’s wearing starts to move, almost growing above her. She stops at the end of the runway, poses, then walks back. People are screaming her name and she winks at them, turning back to face the end of the runway, she gives a tiny wave before women on both sides of her amerge.

Carlos hits me in the chest, “Dude!” He laughs, “You star struck or something?” Kay giggles.

“I- Why does everyone know her if this is her debut?”

“It’s her debut as an angel! Not a model! She’s a complete fan favorite!” Kay claps as the girls continue to walk, they’ve all got lingerie on and look amazing.

I can’t quite seem to shake her face out of my mind. The show goes on, the performances are fun and I can tell who’s the most awaited models because the crowd is quite opinionated.

My favorite is definitely the woman with a sick guitar. Who wouldn’t want to see pretty girls walk while rock music plays?

I may or may not fan-boy over Cher. My mum is a super fan so I make sure to take videos. And as that icon is performing, My eyes catch again.

She’s in full red and I wonder why I've never been to a fashion show before.

Kay catches me staring again, “Yeah- you’re definitely meeting her after this.” I laugh uncomfortably, smiling at the shit eating grin on her face.

“Tyra!” Kay screams next to me, I watch a tall woman with very big hair appear from the floor, the panels behind her open and all the models flood in.

I clap along with everyone else, watching the girls celebrate and smile at one another. Confetti falls on us as Kay spins around.

We stand and clap for them, before they leave and a voice thanks us for watching. I’m in a haze by the time the lights come up, “That was cool!” Carlos grins.

“Hey so because Lando was making goo goo eyes at my best friend-” I side eye her, “You two should come to the after party! Y/n and I are hosting some friends!”

I’d be an idiot to say no.

⋆｡‧˚

They share a studio apartment overlooking the city. Carlos grabs a beer before we start looking around and meeting people.

Carlos is off talking to Kay when I walk into the kitchen, looking for some water. There’s a girl standing on her toes, trying to grab a box of what looks like cereal from a top shelf.

I freeze when I realize it’s her. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t even talk to a girl? Come on.

I clear my throat and go to tap her shoulder but she starts talking before I can, “No you can’t have sex in my bed, if you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere that’s not my apartment, and no smoking inside! My landlord will-” she spins around in a little pink dress, looking pissed off.

She clocks the confused look on my face and stops talking, “I’m not looking to have sex in your apartment…” not yet at least. Shit, Lando shut up! “Or throw up. And I don’t smoke.”

She smacks her lips shut before laughing, “Sorry! Like three people have asked me that tonight!” She bites her bottom lip and I realize how close she is.

Now that I'm not twenty feet away from her, I look her up and down quickly. She’s got freckles, is blonder up close, and her half gone makeup fits her perfectly.

She blinks and I realize that I'm just staring at her.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/N’S POV

Why is this British man staring at me?

He coughs as I smile slightly, intrigued by this random man in my home, “Well if you’re not gonna ask me about any of those three horrid topics, what do you want?” I put my hand on my hip, watching his very pretty green eyes glance to the cereal I was trying (and failing) to grab.

He reaches up and grabs it with ease. He's not that much taller than me, I'm still short for a model and without my usual heels, he has a few inches up.

I take the box, “Thanks.” I open it immediately, sticking my hand inside the chocolate breakfast.

“I was just looking for water.” He shrugs, not meeting my eyes.

“I got you!” I perk up and rummage around in our fridge, handing him a bottle. I usually don’t give out our personal chilled stash, but I like this guy.

“Thank you.” He takes it, brushing my hand slightly.

“No problem!” I glance over to see Alex Consani practically in a plant, “Alex! Please don’t hurt Kay’s children!” I stomp away and get stampeded with conversations and questions.

I laugh, “You’ve told me like a million times! But thank you!” Kay knows it’s been my dream to walk for Victoria's Secret since I was little and didn’t even wear a bra.

She squeals, “Oh I gotta have you meet my new friends!” She drags me to the corner where some people are standing, “Carlos! This is my best friend ever, Y/n! Y/n this is Carlos! He’s super cool!” She leans in to whisper, “and super hot.”

I choke on a laugh, shaking the guys hand, “Nice to meet you!”

“Pleasure! Kay’s been talking you up since the show.” He is hot. He’s got a spanish accent and dark hair, exactly Kay’s type.

“Oh you were at the show?” I say, not realizing he was there with Kay.

“Yeah! Me and-” he looks around, “Norris?” He turns and grabs a guy by his collared leather jacket, “Lando!” He spins him around and I realize it’s the guy who I gave water to.

Kay nods excitedly, “Lando and Carlos were totally cheering you on! Especially Lando.” She tries to whisper the last part but fails.

I don’t miss the look that settles over Lando’s face. Lando, hmm. Interesting name. “Hey.” He nods, sipping his water as I smile.

“Hi! I’m Y/n.” I eye his curls, I like his hair a lot already.

“Anyway- They've only been to New York like two times! We’re showing them around this week!” I try to seem interested but I can’t really focus on Kay when Lando is giving me all his attention. “Carlos, I love this song!” She grabs him by the hand and they’re gone in a second.

Lando and I glance at them, then each other, then laugh, “She’s got a lot of energy.”

“It’s the ADHD.” I sigh, standing next to him and looking around my apartment, “So… you liked the show? You don’t seem like the type.”

“I don’t seem like the type to enjoy pretty girls walking in lingerie while a concert is going on?” He raises a brow and I roll my eyes.

“Typical!”

He reaches a hand out, “Hey hey- I’m kidding! I did enjoy you walking, though.” It’s my turn to raise a brow now. “Kay said it was a big thing- opening the show.”

I nod happily, “Huge! Like made my career completely worth everything I've been through and sealed it for me that i’ve made it…” I trail off, realizing I'm telling this to a complete stranger, “Sorry you probably don’t care.”

He frowns, “Of course I do. I get it.” He shrugs and for some reason, I completely believe him.

I tilt my head, “Do you wanna go outside?”

My words land us outside on my balcony, I'm wrapped in a blanket with a beer in my hand. Lando clinks our glasses and looks out at the view, “So what do you do?” I sip my beer.

He sighs, leans his head back on the glass, “I’m a racing driver.”

This takes me aback severely, “What.” I say it so bluntly that he laughs.

“I drive in Formula 1.” My jaw literally drops.

“That’s sick! You win yet?” He looks young, probably a year or two older than me.

The grin he gives me makes me feel nauseous in a weirdly good way, “Yeah. Kinda my ‘I made it’ Moment, too.”

It’s easy to talk to Lando. There’s something about him that makes me comfortable even though we’ve just met. That’s dangerous, especially for me.

He tells me that he lives in Monaco (of course he has to live far), and that he travels most of the time. This is good, I tell myself. I feel like this is going somewhere and it’s perfect if he just leaves after tonight!

I feel this way because Lando’s eyes keep flicking down to my lips.

I explain how I moved from California to New York after modeling for a bit in LA, “I’m Twenty Two.” I shrug, singing the song a big.

“Shit.” He brings the bottle to his lips again as I scoff.

“Right…What are you? Twenty six?”

He almost chokes on the drink, “Twenty six!? Tell me you’re lying!”

I laugh at his reaction, “No! Tell me how old you are!”

He shakes his head, a curl falling onto his forehead, “I’m Twenty four, you muppet.” I slap my hand over my mouth to quiet my laughter.

“Muppet!?” I laugh, my head falling back.

“Yeah, you’ve made me feel all old.” He shakes his head.

“I like your accent.” I just say it. I don’t know why I do, well, when I glance at the bottle in my hand I have a guess.

He smiles, his eyes reflecting the city lights, “Thanks, love.”

“Love?” I eye him, “You’ve got that winner attitude, pretty cocky.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, “Not cocky, just hopeful.” I shake my head, looking away from him and focusing on the night sky. I am so fucked.

[stealingyourbones]

Mr. Mxyzptlk decides to have some fun and decides it’s time for some bodyswapping shenanigans. Behold, a list of varying bodyswaps I think would be neat to explore:

—

Jack Fenton and Clark Kent

Jack being Jack and getting used to his powers and being INCREDIBLY confused that he woke up NOT in his bed, not next to his incredible wife, and assuming this is a ghosts shenanigans. Clark is freaking out because he’s human, not next to HIS incredible wife, assumes this is a Mxyzptlk plot, and cements himself as an incredibly good father figure with Danny and Jazz, reaching out to other Supers for help to teach Jack the ropes and to wait out whatever Mxy has done.

—

Artemis swapping with Jazz

during an Outlaws mission and DURING some test for Jazz. Both freak out, both have to adjust to the other persons strengths and abilities, and Jason and Bizzaro have to calm a very confused and scared teenager who’s in an Amazonian body. While Danny’s friends are DESPERATELY trying to stop Artemis from throwing hands with every ghost she sees.

—

Johnny 13 and Jason Todd

Jason Todd is dead again. Not Good. Johnny is alive again. This ROCKS! Jason’s Red Hood goons lock him up because their boss is clearly compromised. Jason figures a way out of the Ghost Zone and asks Phantom for help. Along with having to acclimate to being able to control a sentient shadow and ghostly powers, Jason is in for a doozy. Johnny on the other hand, is going through many many attempts to escape Red Hood’s room and failing… until Red Robin crashes through a window. Apparently he should have answered the calls on Red Hood’s phone. Red Robin near instantly clocks that whoever is in Jason’s body, isn’t Jason. Ok, time to bring Not Jason to the Batcave to figure out what’s going on.

—

Vlad Masters and Alfred Pennyworth

Instant character change from both parties. Alfred is midway through talking to Bruce about over exerting himself and Vlad is midway through nearly successfully capturing Phantom.

—

Paulina and Wonder Woman

Paulina having to adjust with Amazonian strength and being lassoed by another party to figure out what’s happening in full (prolly Batman and his paranoid ass wanting the absolute truth <3). Diana having to adjust with being an average teenage girl who’s also high up on the Highschool food chain and pretending nothing is wrong until she can contact the League to figure out what just happened.

—

Tucker Foley and Dick Grayson:

Tucker swapping with Dick while Dick is at the Batcave. He’s too busy marveling at the tech and not really registering that he’s Not In His Body until he hears a roar of a motorcycle somewhere in the distance (One of the Batfamily coming back to the cave), and his reality comes crashing down. Tucker is mid ghost capture when Dick swaps with him and realizes VERY quickly that he’s not in his body and proceeds to go “fuck it. This hero he doesn’t know is genuinely struggling and he needs to blend in until he knows what’s going on. Dick doesn’t know this guys fighting capabilities but he has to AT LEAST know how to dodge well and aim well (Spoiler alert: Tucker doesn’t.

—

Danny Fenton and Martian Manhunter

DANNY IS AN ALIEN! THIS IS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!… Danny also has absolutely no idea how to shapeshift so he’s stuck in J’onn’s true Martian form and uncontrollably shapeshifting random parts of his body out of stress because he can hear *everyones thoughts* within a few miles. Danny’s grown to be a quick learner with powers but with all this noise he just. Can’t. Concentrate. J’onn doing his damndest to act as a regular human boy while not panicking about having absolutely zero telepathy. He’s told the boy’s friends after they noticed something wrong. He found out midway on the walk to Sam’s house that J’onn can turn invisible quite easily. It’s not the same as it is in his body but it’s not too different, kind of like flexing a different sequence of muscles to create the same movement.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ newfangled technology ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ logan finds your vibrator and discovers a wonder of modern technology┊1k words

contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊implied age gap, established relationship, vibrators, overstimulation & mentioned multiple orgasms, receiving oral

➤ author's note: first logan smut!! i’m a bit burnt out of writing it actually so idk if there will be more, but i couldn’t let this idea go <3

logan likes to believe that he understands modern technology for the most part even though you can often hear him muttering curses under his breath at the stupid machine that isn’t working. if most parents and grandparents are struggling to figure it all out, you can bet that this two-hundred-year-old mutant does. it feels like yesterday when people were using rotary phones in their homes, then hand-held flip-phones, and now smartphones that could show you anything you could dream of at the tap of a button— he feels as though the world is growing much faster than an old man like him can keep up with too many gadgets for too many different purposes getting too many upgrades.

any attempts to get him to understand the internet fail for the most part, so he uses his own phone for nothing other than calling, texting, photography, and occasionally googling some sort of questions. he finds advertisements about the latest devices annoying, but he’s very appreciative of motorcycles, kitchen appliances, and other simple machines that make life so much easier compared to his time.

he’s learning about new tech every week, new and pre-existing, both ones which make him wonder if he should get it for himself or ones which make him furrow his brow at the fact that such a thing actually exists. tonight is one of the times when he has both reactions, but more than anything, an intense curiosity had been ignited in his soul.

you asked him to look for something in your bedroom drawers, something that he can’t recall at the moment after he found something that piqued his attention: an egg-shaped item coated in pink medical-grade silicone neatly hidden under layers of clothing and tightly wrapped in a bag. it was tiny in his massive hand and he didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was or what it was made for until you walked in to see what was taking so long, hearing you gasp and turning his head to find you covering your face with your hands looking absolutely mortified. you struggled to stop yourself from stuttering when you had to explain to him what it was, a sex toy that you bought sometime in the first year of college and buried once you got together since it was no longer needed. it was the only one you’ve ever bought and you’ve honestly forgotten about it until now without any idea of how he would react.

while you were humiliated about it, you could see a sparkle of intrigue in his eyes which quickly led to finding yourself in bed with your clothing removed and his new discovery against your aching cunt. it wasn’t difficult to figure out how to change the intensity of the vibrations with a press of a button, but did he need to put it at the highest setting when you’ve practically lost feeling in your legs at this point? it felt so strange at first now that you’re so accustomed to him pleasuring you personally, yet that foreign sense melted away with the familiar memory of taking care of your needs when lonely— except now you had your handsome lover holding it for you with your hands gripping the sheets instead. 

he’s amused at how such a small little thing was so powerful in reducing you to a moaning mess as it pulls another orgasm from your spent body, feeling his neglected cock twitch with every blissful moan past your lips louder than the humming of the toy. you mutter something along the lines of asking him not to stare out of embarrassment, but it all falls on deaf ears since the view that he has is downright mesmerizing, watching intently as he presses it into your puffy folds with a focus on your sensitive clit. all the while, he’s holding your legs open to stop you from closing them instinctively when it felt like too much, his large hand being a comforting weight on your thigh as you squirm in place.

your body trembled in sync with the pulsating toy, walls barely able to clench around the head of the vibrator while leaking like a faucet and dripping all over logan’s fingers. “it’s too much-!!” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillows with glossy eyes and drool starting to seep out the corner of your mouth from the electricity coursing through your veins. it’s surprising that you were even able to utter a coherent phrase when your brain had essentially been turned to mush.

“you can give me one more, can’t you doll?” there’s a hint of sadism in his voice detectable to even your ecstasy-fogged mind where you knew that he was getting off on your reactions alone, an arrogant smirk plastered across his handsome face that was so slappable and sexy. he can almost feel himself drooling too, craving a taste of the sweet nectar making a mess everywhere. “such a desperate and needy little thing,” he tutted, observing your greedy pussy trying to pull the vibrator deeper within you. “go on, cum for me.”

as if his words commanded your body, the tight coil twisting in your abdomen finally snapped, making you writhe and cry out in relief. your heart was pounding in your chest and you gasped for air, feeling sweaty and exhausted as that must have been your third or fourth climax. you stared at him through half-lidded eyes trying to determine if he had had enough of using the vibrator for torturous pleasure until he suddenly pulled you closer to him to bury his face into your soaked heat. he just needed a taste of you, to lick you clean and make you tug on his hair.

watching you become undone when he doesn’t even need to lift a finger seemed to awaken something in him… it’s definitely a piece of modern technology that he would like to invest in, he plans to buy more of different types, shapes, and sizes to try out on you (the definition of “spectacular, give me fourteen of them right now”).

[amirasainz]

What about biker Oscar, who takes his girlfriend for a ride and she is like his adorable backpack and he loves riding his bike with her. Thx 😊

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Ride or Die

The rumble of Oscar's bike echoed through the quiet suburban street as he rolled into the driveway. The sleek black motorcycle gleamed under the evening light, its chrome parts catching the golden hues of the setting sun. He parked, pulling off his helmet, running a hand through his slightly messy hair. Oscar loved his bike. The freedom it gave him, the power it commanded—it was all exhilarating. But tonight, something was different. Tonight, it wasn’t just about the ride.

Tonight, Yn would finally ride with him.

As he walked into the house, he found Yn pacing the living room. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her oversized hoodie, her brows furrowed in thought.

“Hey, babe,” Oscar greeted, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “You ready?”

Yn froze, spinning on her heel to face him. “Uh… yeah. I think.”

Oscar chuckled, setting his helmet on the counter. “You think?” He stepped closer, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know. I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Yn said, biting her lip. “It’s just… you drive so fast, Oscar. And what if I fall off? Or what if—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interrupted, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then trust that I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. “You’ve been my girl for three years, Yn. I wouldn’t risk a scratch on you.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “That’s my girl.”

---

They stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against Yn’s skin. Oscar handed her a sleek black helmet.

“It’s a little big, but it’ll do for now,” he said, helping her adjust the straps.

She looked at the bike, her stomach twisting with both excitement and apprehension. “So… where do I sit?”

Oscar laughed. “Right behind me. You’ll be my ‘backpack.’”

“Backpack?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’ll wrap your arms around me and hold on tight. Easy.”

She climbed onto the bike, hesitating as she tried to find her balance. Oscar steadied her with a firm hand on her knee.

“Relax,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

Once she was seated, she wrapped her arms tentatively around his waist.

“Tighter,” he instructed.

Yn tightened her grip, and he chuckled. “That’s better. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she mumbled.

Oscar started the engine, and the bike roared to life. Yn squeaked, burying her face against his back.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he called over the sound of the engine. “You’re gonna love this.”

---

At first, the bike’s speed was overwhelming. The wind whipped past Yn’s face, and the vibrations beneath her were unlike anything she’d ever experienced. But as they sped down the open road, something shifted. The fear melted away, replaced by a sense of freedom she hadn’t expected.

The world blurred around her—streetlights streaked into golden lines, and the city buzzed faintly in the background. Yn tightened her arms around Oscar, pressing closer to him.

“You okay back there?” he shouted.

“Yeah!” she called back. “This is amazing!”

“Told you!”

They hit a red light, and Oscar slowed to a stop. He reached down, gently pulling her arms even tighter around his waist. His hand lingered for a moment, caressing her forearm.

“You’re doing great,” he said, glancing back with a soft smile.

Yn’s heart fluttered, and she smiled back. “Thanks.”

When the light turned green, they were off again, this time heading out of the city and toward quieter roads.

---

Oscar finally pulled over at a scenic overlook, the city lights twinkling like stars in the distance. The engine cut off, leaving a peaceful silence.

“How was it?” he asked, turning to look at her.

Yn pulled off her helmet, her hair slightly messy but her smile radiant. “It was incredible. I don’t know why I was so scared.”

Oscar smirked. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

He gestured for her to climb off the bike, then patted the seat in front of him. “Come here.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Sit here,” he said, patting the space again.

Curious, Yn climbed onto the bike, straddling the seat and facing him. Oscar’s hands came up to rest on her hips, pulling her closer.

“This is the best seat in the house,” he said, nodding toward the view.

Yn turned to look, and her breath caught. The sprawling city stretched out before them, glittering under the night sky.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“So are you,” Oscar said, his voice soft.

She turned back to him, her cheeks warming. “Stop it.”

“I mean it,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re my girl, Yn. And I’m glad I finally got to share this with you.”

Yn smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “You’re my ride or die.”

They stayed like that for a while, Yn sitting in front of him, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched the city lights. The night was quiet, but the moment was electric, filled with the kind of love and trust that only grows stronger with time.

[sunsburns]

not you too

pairing: jason todd x ex vigilante!reader

summary: for the first time in a long time, you're hurting, deeply. an old wound that's reopened, the knife that was once there finding its place back between your ribs. jason todd comes to you in the middle of the night, bleeding all over your floor, rubbing salt to an old wound.

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, angst, the good old cleaning the other's wounds after a rough patrol but this one has a little bit of plot and spice to it ngl.

based off of this request

You always try to keep your nights as simple as possible. Working under Commissioner Jim Gordon had its perks, but peace of mind wasn’t one of them. Between juggling case files, analyzing crime scenes, and trying to stay ahead of Gotham’s ever-growing list of threats, your days were more than chaotic.

Gordon, a mentor as much as a boss, trusted you with sensitive information that only a few had access to—and you took that responsibility seriously. What he didn’t know was how deep your connection to Gotham’s vigilantes truly ran.

While Gordon believed in the power of the law, you knew sometimes it wasn’t enough. That’s where Batman came in. Your dual role—an officer of the GCPD by day, and a secret informant for Batman by night—had become second nature. You fed him intel and helped him stay ahead of Gotham’s worst, all while maintaining the facade of loyalty to the department.

You weren't proud about it, but he gave you enough hush money that you don't question it whenever he appears by the office as you leave your later shifts.

Friday nights were your escape. After a week of handling reports, dissecting evidence, and sidestepping questions from Gordon about your mysterious late-night absences, you let yourself disconnect. You skipped the gym after work, came home early, and cooked yourself a proper dinner. By the time the sun set, you were showered, dressed in your comfiest pyjamas, and settled on the couch with a movie.

Tonight was no different. You’d just closed a case with Gordon’s team, a robbery ring, criminals now behind bars, but Gotham never truly rested. Tomorrow would bring another wave of crime, another set of challenges. Still, for now, you had this moment of peace.

The movie droned on in the background as you finished dinner, exhaustion from the week creeping in. Your eyes fluttered shut halfway through, the comfort of your quiet apartment lulling you to sleep. By the time the credits rolled, you were completely out, wrapped in the safety of your little corner of the world.

That is until a faint creak from your window broke the silence.

You stirred groggily, blinking at the clock. It was well past midnight. Gotham was still alive outside—sirens in the distance, the occasional rumble of a motorcycle passing by—but your apartment had fallen into stillness. You stretched, ready to drag yourself to bed, but something wasn’t right.

The creak came again. Your blood ran cold.

Someone was in your apartment.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. The faint sound of creaking had stopped, leaving an eerie silence behind, but there—a shadow moved. Your heart pounded, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you reached blindly for something, anything to defend yourself. The remote was the closest thing at hand. You gripped it tightly, feeling foolish but unwilling to let go, and scrambled to stand.

In the faint glow from the streetlight filtering through the curtains, you finally saw him—a large figure by the balcony door, hunched over, struggling to quietly close the glass behind him. He moved slowly, cautiously, as if he didn’t want to be noticed. But you had already seen enough.

The silhouette was unmistakable.

“Jason.”

His shoulders stiffened at the sound of his name, freezing in place for a second before turning to face you. Even in the darkness, you could feel the weight of his gaze through the red-tinted visor of his helmet, his expression unreadable beneath it.

You lowered the remote slowly, heart still racing, but now for a different reason. “You can’t—you can’t just break in like this,” you stammered, your voice tinged with frustration and worry. You’d seen him do this too many times, yet it never got easier.

He let out a gruff, annoyed sound beneath the helmet, shoulders sagging as he took a step closer. “Not like you were gonna answer the door.” His voice was rough, and the bitterness in his tone was impossible to miss.

Your irritation flared, but then you noticed something—a slight tremor in the way he moved. His steps were sluggish, almost hesitant, and he favoured his right side, trying to mask it.

He wasn’t just annoyed.

He was hurt.

As he stepped out of the shadow, the dim lamp light caught the outline of his armour. That’s when you noticed it—dark stains creeping across the front of his suit, and the way his hand pressed against his side, the faint sound of a pained breath slipping past his otherwise guarded posture.

“You’re bleeding,” you muttered, the frustration quickly giving way to concern. He didn’t respond, his gaze avoiding yours as he leaned back against the wall, clearly uncomfortable with being here. Jason never wanted anyone to see him like this—least of all you.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up,” he grumbled, the words tinged with a mix of guilt and exasperation. “Go to bed. I’ll be out in a minute. Just needed some stuff. Still got that first aid kit?”

You shook your head, taking a cautious step closer, your heart sinking at the sight of him in pain. “Jason, you can’t just—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off sharply, pushing himself off the wall, wincing as the movement aggravated his wound. His stance was defensive like he was already preparing to run before you could offer to help.

But the moment his knees buckled slightly, the tough exterior he was trying to maintain cracked. You could see it in the way his breath hitched, the way he clutched at his side like he was barely holding it together.

He wasn’t here because he wanted to be. He was here because he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Jason pulled the mask off his head, his breath coming in sharp gasps as if the helmet had been suffocating him. He tossed it carelessly onto your dining table before glancing at you, his expression tight. “You got it or not?”

His voice startled you into action. “Uh—yeah, I’ve got it.” You scrambled down the hall toward the bathroom, hands shaking as you rifled through the drawers for the first aid kit. His footsteps echoed faintly in your living room, boots heavy against the hardwood. Now that he’d been caught, his presence filled the space in a way that made it impossible to ignore.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it was no use. No matter how many times you’d imagined running into Jason again, it was never like this. In your daydreams, you hoped you’d bump into him on the street, or maybe during work.

There were even moments where you’d foolishly fantasized about seeing him at Wayne Manor, handing over files to Bruce as a favour, only to lock eyes with Jason from across the room. But this? Jason bleeding out on your floor, breaking into your apartment in the middle of the night? This wasn’t what you wanted.

When you returned to the living room, he had already shed his jacket, revealing a deep gash along his side. It was messy, and the blood soaked into the fabric of his suit, leaving dark stains that made your stomach drop.

He’d settled into something uncomfortably familiar—boots kicked off by the door, sitting against the wall like old times, but this time he kept his distance, his body tense.

He didn’t want to be here.

You hesitated as you approached, the kit in your hand. “Jason, let me—”

“I’ve got it.” His voice was sharp, cutting you off as he took the first aid kit from your hands without so much as a glance. His glare kept you at arm’s length, and it hurt. The way he shut you out, even when he was barely holding himself together.

He didn’t trust anyone—not entirely.

Not after everything.

Still, seeing him like this made something twist in your chest. Bleeding and worn down, but too stubborn to ask for help. There was a heaviness in the air, lingering in the silence that stretched between you both. It wasn’t just about tonight—it was everything that had been left unresolved before, all the words that had gone unsaid the last time you’d seen each other. But now, with Jason sitting right in front of you, neither of you dared to speak.

You crouched a few feet away, sitting on the floor across from him, watching as he tried to clean the wound himself. His hand shook slightly, though he tried to hide it, his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth against the pain. It was bad—worse than he was letting on.

“Jason, stop,” you finally said, your voice softer than you intended. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

“I don’t need your help,” he bit out, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’ve done this a thousand times.”

He huffed, annoyed, but when he tried to move again, his breath hitched—pain breaking through the cracks of his tough exterior. His hand slipped, and the antiseptic bottle nearly fell from his grip. You didn’t wait for his permission this time. You slid over, taking the kit from his hand.

“Just let me do it,” you murmured, your voice firmer now.

Jason didn’t argue this time, though his jaw was still set in that stubborn way you knew all too well. You could feel the heat branching off him as you gently touched his arm to move it out of the way and clean the wound. His whole body stiffened at the contact like he wasn’t used to being taken care of—or maybe he just didn’t want it.

His eyes shifted to the far wall, jaw clenched even tighter, refusing to meet your gaze, but you caught the way his breath hitched ever so slightly when your hands moved over his skin.

He wasn’t saying anything, but his body told you enough. Every time your fingers brushed a sensitive spot or when the antiseptic stung, his lips pressed into a thinner line. He didn’t flinch exactly, but his posture—rigid, unmoving—betrayed how uncomfortable he was.

You weren’t sure what was harder for him: the wound or the fact that he was letting you help. His pride had always been a barrier, a wall he rarely let anyone get through. Yet here he was, in your apartment, wounded and unwilling to admit just how much he needed you.

As Jason shifted slightly, wincing, you took the moment to observe him. It had been a while since you last saw him, and for a second, you searched for something—anything—that might’ve changed. But he was still Jason. Still, the same stubborn man who couldn’t stay out of trouble. Even that white strand of hair was right where it had always been. He looked older somehow, but not in the way time ages people. It was something deeper, worn into him from the life he led.

And then his eyes flicked up, catching you watching him. For a brief moment, neither of you moved. His gaze softened, just barely, before the guarded look returned as quickly as it had slipped away.

He shifted again, his body tense, and glanced around your apartment—anything to avoid looking directly at you. His gaze lingered on your desk, the files from your latest case scattered across it, and his expression darkened. You could see it in his eyes—a mix of suspicion and something else.

“You’ve been busy,” he muttered, his tone gruff, though the edge in his voice told you there was more to it than a simple observation.

You didn’t look up, keeping your hands steady as you applied pressure to the wound. “You know how it is.”

Jason’s jaw twitched. “Yeah,” he said, his tone sharp. “I know how it is.”

It was a jab, even if it was subtle. You could feel the accusation hanging between the lines of his words. He wasn't just talking about your busy schedule—he was digging at the gap between you two, at all the things neither of you had addressed. Your loyalty to Batman. Your work with Gordon.

A little fucking traitor to everything Jason worked for.

You sighed, pressing a little harder than necessary to make a point. “You’re not here for that, Jason.”

He winced, and you almost felt bad. Almost. But the look in his eyes—calculated, like he was searching for the truth behind every move you made—made your chest tighten. His silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.

“You’re not going to ask why I’m here?” His voice was softer now, but there was a bitterness to it. He knew you weren’t stupid. He wasn’t here by choice, and you both knew it. You wanted to ask, but what was the point? Jason never came to you for help, never came to anyone unless he had no other option.

“I figured you’d tell me when you’re ready,” you replied quietly, not daring to meet his eyes. His presence in your home felt heavier than the blood on your hands.

He scoffed, shifting to take the bandage from your hand. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Your hand stilled for a moment, hovering just above his skin. You could feel the heat radiating from him, a reminder of just how close you were to crossing a line neither of you dared to acknowledge. He was still the same Jason, still stubborn as hell, but the space between you felt like it had grown into a chasm. One you weren't sure either of you could cross without everything falling apart.

“Why are you really here, Jason?” you asked, giving in. He was a wanted man, or at least Red Hood was. If you were up to it, you could have him arrested within seconds.

His eyes snapped up, the guarded expression faltering for a moment before his usual defiance returned. “It’s not like I had a lot of options,” he admitted, though the words felt forced like he was offering you an excuse instead of the truth.

“I thought you always had a plan,” you said, words sharper than you intended. “Or is that just another thing you’ve changed your mind about?”

He flinched, and for a second, you regretted saying it. But the hurt between you two had been simmering for too long. His loyalty was always a wild card, and yours? Well, Jason had never forgiven you for staying close to the people he had walked away from.

Jason’s lips twitched, not quite a smirk, but close. “The Bat keeping you on a tight leash?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or is it Gordon now?”

You stiffened, the accusation hitting home more than you liked. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, knowing it sounded weak but unwilling to offer more. It was always the same with Jason—he pushed, prodded, and pulled at the places you tried to protect.

“Yeah, right. Because we both know where your loyalties lie,” Jason snapped, his tone harsher now. His eyes bore into you like he was searching for something—anything—that would confirm his suspicions. That you’d chosen Batman over him. That you were still working with the people who had crossed him.

“I didn’t betray you,” you said quietly, though even as you said it, the words felt hollow. You didn’t know if you believed them anymore.

Jason let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. There was too much between you, too many things left unsaid, and no amount of stitching his wounds would ever fix that. He was right, in a way. You hadn’t chosen him—not when it counted.

Not when he needed you. And for what? For comfort? A little bit of safety? An alliance with Batman? A raise at work? The questions ran through your mind like jagged edges. It wasn’t that simple, but neither of you had ever really said the things that needed to be said back then, too busy trying to fix things that did not need fixing.

His breathing had become more laboured as you worked, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The wound you were treating was deep, and too close to critical areas for comfort.

Jason’s hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling into fists as if he was fighting the pain, refusing to show just how much it hurt. But you could see it in the way his body trembled under your touch—he was reaching his limit.

“Let me finish,” you said, your tone softer, more insistent. "Stop fighting me."

For once, he didn’t argue. His jaw unclenched, his shoulders slackened slightly, and his eyes—usually so guarded—softened just enough to show how exhausted he really was. Physically, emotionally, all of it. He wasn’t invincible, and tonight, that truth was catching up with him faster than he could hide.

You moved closer, hands brushing against his skin as you worked quickly, trying to keep your focus. His skin was warm, slick with sweat and blood, and the faintest tremor ran through his frame as your fingers traced the edge of the wound. But the closeness was unnerving—both of you acutely aware of each other in a way that made the room feel smaller.

You caught his eyes as you reached for more gauze, and for a split second, neither of you looked away. His gaze burned into you, full of unspoken questions, of things he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say. And for the first time, you wondered if you weren’t the only one who had felt betrayed.

But you’d both been wrong. You could see it now, in the way his eyes darkened with unsaid accusations, in the way your heart ached with unresolved regret. You thought you were protecting him by walking away—by choosing the safer path, Batman’s path. And Jason, with all his reckless defiance, had been too far gone in his need for vengeance to understand why you couldn’t follow him down that road.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. “I can’t trust anyone anymore.”

Your fingers stilled, hovering just above his chest. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you.

"I never asked you to trust me," you whispered, the words hanging precariously on the line between honesty and regret.

But the truth was, you wanted him to. More than anything.

Jason’s lips tightened into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away. His muscles tensed beneath your touch as if bracing himself for another fight. His hand twitched, lifting halfway like he was going to shove you back, but he stopped.

The strain was written all over his face now, and you could see his breathing growing more ragged. His eyes were slipping out of focus, and you noticed the faint green glow flickering at the edges of his irises—Lazarus. It was always there, a reminder of how far he’d gone, how close to the edge he still was.

“Jason…” you said quietly, watching the pain ripple through him. He was losing consciousness, slipping into the darkness despite his stubborn refusal to admit it. His hand finally dropped, brushing against your arm before it hit the floor, the strength leaving him in waves.

“Just… get it over with,” he rasped, his voice cracking.

You pressed the final bandage into place, your hands gentle now, more careful. For a moment, you let your fingers linger, brushing against the rough skin of his shoulder as you finished. His breathing was shallow, but steady, his eyes fluttering shut. The tension drained from his body as the exhaustion finally won, leaving him vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen in a while.

It reminded you of when he used to sleep beside you. Jason had always been restless, even in sleep, twisting in the sheets, his mind never fully at ease. But there had been nights when he would finally relax, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, his head resting against your chest like he found his peace there, with you. You remembered how you’d stroke that same shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin as you whispered for him to rest, that you were there, watching over him.

And yet, here you were, caring for him again.

He stirred slightly, a soft grunt escaping his lips as he adjusted, trying to find a position that eased the pain. His face softened with the kind of weariness that came from more than just the physical strain. You watched his chest rise and fall, the quiet sound of his breath mingling with the hum of the city outside.

Jason’s hand twitched again, brushing against your knee, his fingers grazing your skin with a familiar yet distant touch. It made your heartache.

There was a time when you would’ve done anything to keep him safe, to protect him from the world—and from himself. But now, all you could do was sit there, hands still resting against his skin, wondering if either of you could ever come back from this.

[itsnesss]

how about a jun ho smut fic? :) where he stops reader cuz she’s not wearing a helmet and she flirts with him to not give her a ticket but the second time this happens she tries to do the same thing but he wants more? :)) lets just say that they take their little adventure to reader’s house and they literally just fuck

tyy <333

𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, evade the law?, sexual tension, consensual sex, power dynamics, oral sex, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The roar of your motorcycle engine reverberates against the buildings as you glide through the streets of Seoul. The wind brushes your face and messes up your hair, but you don’t wear a helmet. You hate how it ruins your style, even though you know it’s foolish. Despite that, you feel an unparalleled freedom, as if you could escape everything.

But your momentary euphoria comes to a screeching halt when you see red and blue lights reflected in the side mirrors. You curse under your breath as you slow down and park by the curb. A police officer approaches slowly.

He’s tall, with perfectly combed dark hair and a face straight out of a K-drama. His deep, serious eyes lock onto yours with a mix of disapproval and authority, forcing you to look away for a second.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asks, his voice firm but not hostile.

You know perfectly well, but you decide to play innocent. “For an excess of style?” you reply, flashing a coquettish smile.

He doesn’t smile. He takes out his ticket book and starts writing.

“For not wearing a helmet. It’s dangerous for you and others.”

You lean slightly toward him, letting your leather jacket slide a bit to reveal your collarbone. You look at him with eyes full of feigned innocence.

“Come on, officer, it’s not that serious. I promise I’ll wear a helmet next time. Do we really need to do this?”

Hwang Jun-ho, according to the name on his badge, sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s not going to work.” He hands you the ticket, ignoring your blatant attempts.

Your smile fades. You take the ticket, feigning a pout as you start your motorcycle again. Before leaving, you cast him one last glance. “What a waste,” you think as you ride away.

A few days later, fate plays another cruel trick on you. You’re speeding through downtown, once again without a helmet, when you see those familiar lights behind you.

You sigh and pull over, already knowing who it is. And there he is, wearing the same serious expression, as if he’s tired of you but also entertained by your brazenness.

“Again?” he says, crossing his arms over his uniform.

You step off the bike, letting your boots make a deliberate noise against the pavement. You walk toward him, this time with more confidence.

“I guess I just can’t help running into you, Officer Hwang. Maybe it’s destiny.”

He doesn’t respond, but you notice his jaw tighten slightly. You lean in, letting yourself invade his personal space.

“You should let me off this time. You already gave me a ticket, remember?” Your fingers lightly brush the edge of his badge.

This time, something in his gaze shifts. It’s not quite a smile, but his lips curve slightly.

“Do you really think flirting with me is going to get you out of this?”

“Maybe.” You bite your lower lip, knowing you’re playing with fire.

Jun-ho puts away his ticket book. It surprises you, but before you can celebrate your small victory, he leans toward you. His face is dangerously close, and his voice drops to a near whisper.

“If you’re going to play, make sure you know the rules.”

Your heart races as you try to figure out if he’s joking or as serious as always. You decide to take your chances.

“And what are the rules, officer?”

His smile widens, but he says nothing. Instead, he hands you a card with his phone number.

“Call me if you decide you’re ready to play for real.”

Before you can respond, he walks away, leaving you frozen on the sidewalk.

That same night, you can’t get his face out of your head. You decide to text him. You don’t have much to lose.

You: “What kind of game did you have in mind, officer?”

The reply comes minutes later.

Jun-ho: “Are you home?”

Your stomach flips.

You: “Yes. Why?”

Jun-ho: “I’m coming over.”

Your heart pounds as you rush to tidy up your apartment. You have no idea what you’re doing, but there’s something about him that intrigues you too much to stop.

When you hear a knock at the door, your breath catches. You open it, and there he is, still partially in uniform, but without the jacket and with his tie slightly loosened.

“You don’t waste time, do you?” you say, trying to keep your composure.

“You texted me first.” He closes the door behind him, his eyes scanning you from head to toe.

There’s a palpable tension in the air, and as you step toward him, you both know neither of you plans to stop.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hands, strong and assured, find your waist and pull you closer. You feel the heat of his body against yours as he guides you toward the couch.

“Is this part of the rules?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

Jun-ho smiles against your neck, his voice low and full of desire.

“We make the rules. What matters is that we both agree".

You smile, but you no longer have the composure to joke. Your body responds to his presence, desiring him more with each passing moment.

You slide your hands over his torso, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. He grunts as he removes his shirt, his eyes shining with desire when he sees you already naked in his arms.

His fingers move closer to your chest, playing with your nipples and making them harden. You moan, leaning towards him and desperately seeking his mouth. He gives you a stronger kiss, their tongues intertwining as he caresses you.

A second later, your pants fall to your feet, and your boots hit the floor. Jun-ho slides down, kissing every inch of your skin with a perfect combination of tenderness and desire.

He reaches for your black panties and pulls them down with an expert motion. He tosses them aside, bringing his face closer to your pussy.

"I want to see you," he says, his black eyes shining.

You don't know what to expect, but then he starts licking you with small flicks of his tongue. You moan when his mouth meets your clitoris, his lips surrounding it. Your breathing becomes irregular as you melt in his arms, your hands in his hair as he licks you more and more. Your stomach beats hard, the tension in your body growing with each second until you explode in his mouth, a torrent of pleasure that leaves you trembling.

But he doesn't stop there. He gets up, his fingers slipping two of them into your pussy while he licks you, your body reacting once more, the tension inside you growing until you're about to come for the second time.

"Do you like it?" he says, looking at you with his dark and bright eyes, his voice full of confidence as he sits on your couch.

You moan as you straddle him. You see him lower his pants, his cock hard and ready for you. You touch it, feeling its thickness and warmth in your fingers. He sighs, his eyes closing for a second before looking at you with more passion than before.

"Put it inside," he says, his voice a plea.

You obey, lowering yourself onto his cock and feeling it make its way into your pussy. Your breath catches for a moment as you adjust to him, but soon you're moving, his thighs between yours as you rock back and forth on his member.

His mouth finds yours, a desperate kiss while he caresses you. His fingers play with your nipples, making them harden while he fucks you, your breath quick and shallow.

His arms wrap around your body, pulling you tighter to him as he fucks you harder and faster, your pussy adjusting to his thickness.

"You are so fucking hot" he says, growling in your ear. "So fucking sexy".

You laugh as you speed up, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure grow in your body. Jun-ho moans, his fingers gripping your hips and pulling you down once more.

"Jun-ho..." you say, your voice a moan, pleasure a torrent within you.

He kisses you, his eyes meeting yours in a moment of passion and connection. You feel yourself falling onto him once more, the tension building until you explode, your muscles contracting around his cock.

He moans, his body trembling beneath you. You have the impression that it's not what he expected, but he can't stop either. A second later, he comes inside you, his fingers digging into your skin as he gasps against your face.

You are sitting on him for a moment, wrapping your arms around his body while you wait for him to calm down. Finally, you slide to the side, his fingers caressing your breasts with a gentle and slow touch.

"I think I should never wear a helmet again," you say, smiling against his chest.

Jun-ho laughs, his arms wrapping around you with a warmth that makes you feel safe and calm.

"No, of course not, you will use it" he says, stroking your hair.

You laugh in turn, knowing that perhaps, after all, the freedom you have always been looking for was there, waiting for you on a street in Seoul.

[gokyrts]

Patrón!Carlos | C.S. 55

18+ | warnings: mentions of drugs, cartel politics, mentions of kidnapping, d/s dynamics, finger sucking, dom!carlos, unprotected p in v, spanking, oral (m receiving), slight degradation and humiliation, light ass play, dirty talk

Summary: you needed a favour, a favour only the leader of the local drug cartel could grant you, so you went to beg for it and you bit more than you could chew

Author’s note: MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM YOURS TRULY!! This is a gift for all my lovely supporters. if you’ve liked Mafia AU, you’re definitely gonna like this 🤭 welcome to Narcos AU with Carlos Sainz !

wc: 4.3k

Check out part two here and part three here !

In case you’re unfamiliar with the plot and terms of Narcos, here’s a little vocabulary with terms that are used throughout the story:

el patrón — (noun) boss of a drug cartel

sicarios — (noun, pl.) high ranking members of a cartel, armed, usually on motorcycles

DEA — (noun) drug enforcement administration; U.S. federal office tasked with combatting drug trafficking

The air outside the compound was still, heavy with the heat of late afternoon. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of laughter echoed, mingling with the crackle of a lit cigar. You sat alone, staring at the rim of your glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. The burn of it no longer registered—it had stopped doing that weeks ago. You hated this place. Hated the velvet couches, the chandeliers, the lingering stench of power and fear. But it had become your world.

Your sister was safe. That was what mattered. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Still, the memory of the first step you’d taken into this life clung to you like smoke, no matter how many times you tried to shove it away. And, as always, it returned unbidden:

The air was just as oppressive that day, tightening around your throat, pressing against your chest. But not nearly as oppressive as the gazes and words of the sicarios you encountered when you came to beg for a favor. Their eyes on you like you were a piece of meat delivered to their door.

“Move along, sweetheart,” one of them said, making your stomach churn.

“I need to speak with señor Sainz.” your assertiveness was a joke to them, seeing nothing more than a defenseless animal.

“Did you hear that?” he’d said, turning to the other guard with exaggerated mockery. “Little mama here wants to speak to el patrón.”

Their laughter had stung, but you’d swallowed your pride. This wasn’t about you. It was about your sister. It was about survival.

“Please,” you’d whispered, your voice cracking just enough to reveal the desperation in your chest. “It’s important.”

The sicarios had exchanged amused glances before one stepped forward, his expression darkening with a hint of suspicion. “Es importante, ah?” he’d asked, the firearm in his hands a reminder of who had control. “How so?”

Your fists had tightened, your body screaming to run, but you had stood your ground. “I need his help. My… my sister has been kidnapped.”

The two men exchanged a glance, this one colder, heavier. Without another word, they had stepped aside, opening the door to the building with a mockingly polite gesture. “Muy bien, let’s see what the boss has to say to this… little request.”

They had flanked you as you walked down the dim corridor, the echo of their heavy boots swallowing your lighter steps. The long hallway felt like a gauntlet, and each step seemed to draw you further into a cage you wouldn’t be able to escape. They led you to an unassuming door, another guard stationed outside. A brief knock sounded, a whisper you hadn’t caught, and then you were ushered inside.

Carlos Sainz’s office had been every bit as ostentatious as you’d imagined. The room reeked of wealth: leather chairs, imported bourbon, and a portrait of the man himself staring down from the wall. But none of it had held your attention for long. Your gaze had locked onto Carlos the moment you saw him.

He’d been seated behind his desk, looking as though he owned not just the room but the air you were breathing. His expression had been unreadable, save for the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Before you could speak, one of the guards shoved you forward. “I’m not armed!” you’d snapped, your voice sharp with indignation.

The guard’s rough hands searched you anyway, brushing over your clothes with no effort to hide his smugness. Carlos, meanwhile, had leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, watching the scene like it was some form of theater staged for his amusement.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he’d said, his smirk widening as his gaze swept over you. “You seem to have a sharp tongue on you, señorita.”

You’d forced yourself to endure and once the guard was satisfied, you had been given the space to speak.

“I—I need your help, señor. They… they took my little sister. I don’t know who else to turn to.”

He hadn’t reacted at first. Instead, he’d reached for a glass, pouring himself a measure of whiskey with deliberate slowness. The sound of the liquid hitting the glass filled the room like a mocking echo.

“You came to ask for a favor?” he’d said finally, his tone light, as though you were discussing the weather. He hadn’t given you a chance to respond. “I remember you owing a favor to me, little one.”

Your throat had tightened. Of course, he remembered. A debt passed down from your father, inherited like a curse. You’d known the weight of it would crush you someday. You just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

“Sí, señor,” you’d said, voice cracking, fighting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. “I still owe you. But I need this, please. She was taken by men from the other side. I-I don’t want them to hurt her or worse…”

Carlos had tilted his head, studying you as though you were some strange creature that had wandered into his den.

“So… you expect me to solve more of your family’s problems, sí?” His words were light, almost teasing, but the sharp edge in his gaze had made your stomach twist.

Your knees had felt weak, but you’d pressed on. “Please,” you’d said again, the word tasting like ash on your tongue. “I—I will do anything.”

At that, his amusement had deepened. The room had gone still.

“Anything…?” he’d repeated, his voice dropping just enough to make you shiver. One of the guards had snickered, but Carlos had silenced him with a click of his tongue. Then he’d mentioned for the guards to exit, leaving only the two of you in the room.

With deliberate slowness, he’d risen from his chair, rounding the desk until he stood in front of you. He’d been taller than you remembered, his presence overwhelming.

“Do you know what that word means, little one?” he’d asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you know what it costs to ask me for a favor?”

You’d lowered your gaze, the weight of his stare crushing you.

“I… I will pay the price,” you’d whispered.

Carlos had tilted his head, lifting your chin upward with surprising gentleness, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Careful,” he’d murmured, his tone soft but laced with warning. “There are men who would take this as an invitation...”

You’d stiffened, your skin crawling under his touch.

“But I’m not one of them…not today.” he’d stepped back with a smirk, allowing you to breathe again.

“Muy bien,” he’d said, returning to his desk. “I’ll deal with these men and bring your sister back. But… from this moment on, you’re mine. Your time, your life. When I call, you answer. No questions. No hesitation. Understood?”

You’d hesitated, just for a moment, but Carlos didn’t let you. His voice had turned sharp, cutting through your resistance like a blade.

“Understood?”

“Yes,” you’d said, voice shaking. “Yes… I understand.”

He’d smirked, satisfied. “Good. Go home, little one. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

…

You closed your eyes as the memory finished replaying, pressing the glass back to your lips, its contents dwindling fast. Anticipation brewed in your gut mingling with the expensive imported whiskey. He has called again and you answered, per agreement.

Over time you learned to ignore the hungry stares from his wolves, their sleazy whispers, and dirty hands adjusting their pants when you passed them in the halls of the safehouse. It made you sick. But this was part of the price you had to pay. The price you agreed to pay for the safety of your sister’s life, and the doom of your own.

“Princesita,”

Your eyes snapped open at his voice — smooth, silky, like the liquor you just downed. The familiar burning sensation returned, your body starting to smolder again. You swallowed the bitterness and turned on your hell, the dress you were told to wear flowing around your form.

Carlos regarded you with a long gaze, from the shoes you picked to wear, across your hips and waist, where the dress tightly hugged your soft curves, to your face, lingering on your painted lips.

He nodded in approval, beckoning you closer with a finger.

Teaching you obedience was his favorite, along with making you regret every life decision you ever made, but especially the deal you made with him.

His thumb found your bottom lip as you stepped closer, the red on your lips pulling him in like a bull following its toreador. The rough surface of his finger swiped over the carefully applied lipstick, smudging it and dragging it down your chin. A flicker of amusement appeared in his eyes at your ruined look, his favorite look on you. His thumb slid off your chin, leaving a light red stain.

Beautiful, he thought, before retracting his hand only to notice the smudge on his finger.

He pressed the thumb back against your mouth.

“Clean it.”

And your body burned, the whiskey in your gut the fuse and his command the spark. The finger was thrust into your mouth with zero patience, the taste of ash and metal hitting your tongue along the unmistakable sweetness of your cherry red lipstick. As much as the taste made you retch, it was addicting.

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

Your tongue wrapped around the digit, swirling to catch the pad of his thumb and sucking it clean. Carlos rewarded you with a hum of approval, pressing down harder on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open up further.

Your jaw gave way, letting Carlos in on the sight of his saliva-covered thumb in your mouth, your tongue playing around with it. He pulled back, dragging his finger out of your mouth but not without wiping it slightly against your lip, enhancing the redness of it with a top coat.

“Good girl… good ruined girl.”

Heat pooled between your legs, forcing an involuntary hum from your throat. Weeks ago you would resist, deny, and deflect — you didn’t want him to notice, because he noticed everything — but his praise was like a switch flipped in your brain.

However, as fast as he praised, he also did the exact opposite.

“Go clean your face, I’m not letting you accompany me looking like that.” he spat, stepping aside so you could go wipe the mess he made on your face. The oval mirror in his office was nearly as familiar as the face you saw in it. The flashbacks were instant when you looked into it, images of him, of you, in positions he forced you into. Carlos liked making you watch, it etched itself in your memory better, he said.

You squeezed your thighs together as you wiped the ruined lipstick off of your chin, similar redness blooming on your cheeks. Carlos smirked knowingly, standing a few feet behind you. He could be in the background, not even touching you but your body was aflame for him, your mind playing tricks on you, triggers he put in your head setting off. You reapplied the lipstick, the phantom feeling of his finger on them almost making you miss the intimacy.

There was a knock on the door, signaling your ride was there. Armed guards escorted you to an awaiting car. A small convoy left the compound to ensure the patrón’s safety. A meeting with the other Narcos wasn’t something to underestimate. Light chatter took part in the car you were not part of. They didn’t need your opinion. You were there as a pretty face, nothing more, nothing less.

As you approached the hotel where the meeting would be held, the oppressive air started clawing at your lungs again. The delicate power balance you felt in the atmosphere was unnerving, ready to tip over in any direction. You and Carlos were patted down before entering. It was agreed that this meeting would be weapon-free. If anything was to go down, you’d be fighting with your bare hands.

The hotel was grand, smelling of the same filthy richness that Carlos’ office did. Your presence caught eyes. A woman, a pretty woman, here? Just as you learned to ignore the stares and comments of Carlos’ sicarios*, you avoided those of the other men, asking if you were lost or looking for a good time. The tension only heightened as you neared the entered the conference room and Carlos felt the need to remind you of your place. He caught you by the elbow, pulling you back against him, his lips against your ear. “You’re here to keep me company, not to speak. Understood?”

Your breath hitched, his voice, so close, sent shivers down your back. “Sí, señor.”

Carlos was satisfied enough with your response and let you go, stepping around you and opening the door. Your smaller form was hidden behind Carlos’ broad back as you entered, the other Narcos only catching sight of you as you walked along the enormous glass table.

Without looking up, you uttered a quiet ‘Buenos dias, señores.’ That was the only time you were allowed to speak.

Behind the clouds of smoke from cigars and cigarettes, the Narcos recognized a woman. They exchanged glances, whispers, scoffs but nothing you wouldn’t be used to already. Despite their visible disapproval, no one dared speak up.

Carlos sat at the head of the table, as he was the organizer of the meeting, leaving you a small seat behind him, just to further emphasize you were not part of the negotiations.

The meeting started but not much has reached your ears throughout, selectively more than not. The Narcos discussed new routes, skirmishes with the DEA, feuds over territory, nothing you could be a part of anyway.

You were picking on your nails when one of the older gentlemen mentioned the neighborhood you grew up in.

“…a possible lab location, routes go out here and through this way,”

His fat finger was pointing to a map, showing what in his mind was a new business idea the others would approve of. For a moment you were taken into your childhood home, playing with your sister on the front porch. It was nice, safe but you always saw men linger around, men who had DEA badges on their belts. Still thinking you were in your mind, you murmured. “Yeah, right into the DEA’s hands…”

Silence.

Feeling a full body chill, you looked up, slowly, each tilt of your head further revealed more shocked and angry expressions of the Narcos.

The man whose idea you challenged leaned back and looked at Carlos in disbelief.

“Carlos, who is this? Did you bring a secretary? Are you into females advising you now?”

Your heart nearly stopped, eyes widening as the weight of your little comment hit you.

“Why did you bring a woman into the meeting anyway? Now she’s thinking she’s one of us.” Another man sneered as all gazes turned to Carlos to watch his reaction.

Whatever he was thinking, one could not tell. His eyes flit briefly to you and then back, but you did notice his jaw clenching, a subtle show of his anger. But he masked it well, leaning back in his seat.

“She’s not one of us, but she’s right. Think about it.”

Carlos’ response had the Narcos stunned a second time that night. They turned to one another, murmuring amongst themselves, considering the situation. But no one was stunned more than you. He saved you…he acknowledged your opinion, among those he trusted the least but had to respect the most and vice versa.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly on alert and aware of what was being discussed. With bated breath, you watch the meeting conclude and the drug lords pour out of the conference room. Some regarded you with disgust, others with interest, some with caution but you would be in the meeting minutes of everyone who attended.

When the last of the traffickers left, the atmosphere of the room shifted. Carlos was quiet, too quiet for your liking. His fingers drummed against the glass table, the echo loud in the empty room. His head tilted to the side and you saw his jaw lock in place before he spoke.

“Are you the expert on routes now?” His tone was calm and cold, the kind that makes you want to huddle for warmth. It wasn’t a question for you to answer. A loud warning despite the pitch in his voice, but you knew this was more dangerous than if he’d yelled. “What did I tell you about speaking up?” his words had bite now.

“I-I didn’t mean to… I was just— you said I was right though! I grew up in that neighborhood! If you let them set up a lab there, the DEA would be onto them and you’d be the one cleaning up the mess.”

“Oh? You think you saved me?” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “Do not think this is how you repay favors, little princess.”

You averted his gaze, the taste of forced submission bitter on your tongue. Your palms were sweating again and you had to wipe them on your dress this time. Carlos watched you, the intensity in his eyes threatening to light the fire inside you again and he knew.

The sound of the snapping of his fingers was loud in the room, making you look up at him again.

“Come here.”

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

You got up on shaky legs, taking a few short strides to Carlos’ side. Your tongue swiped over your bottom lip in anticipation, catching the cherry red lipstick he had given you a taste of before.

“Over the table, princesa…”

The glass table felt cold over your thighs and stomach, the dress you wore riding up as you bent over in front of him. You heard him sigh, the sound filling you with more delicious uncertainty. You felt his large hand on the back of your thigh, the rough callouses contrasting against the gentle caresses he gave you.

“This room was full of men who would shoot you for even looking at them wrong…” He spoke with softness that made you almost comfortable against the table like this was a fatherly scolding. Except it was.

Smack.

His palm landed against the back of your thigh, forcing air out of your lungs.

“And you thought you could just come in and play queen?” Carlos continued, his voice dropping an octave as he pulled your dress up, revealing your bare ass.

Smack.

The handprint on your ass cheek stung, its red outline hot to the touch as he rubbed his fingers over it. You cried out as he delivered the next smack to your other cheek.

Your eyes squeezed shut with the force he used, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips. He fisted his other hand in your hair, pulling your head back. His lips were against your ear again.

“I have every right to throw you to them… to let them devour you till there’s nothing but bones… but,” he trailed off, a strange occurrence, stretching the moment and breathing fire to your insides.

“You’re mine.”

Your head landed against the glass table as he let go of your hair, the thud making you groan. His hands trailed back down, catching against the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down. You gasped as the cold air hit your soaked pussy, the undergarment landing around your ankles. Carlos grabbed at your ass cheek, squeezing and spreading you to him.

“Ah… I’m beginning to think you like this, princesa.” His tone was mocking as his index finger slid through the wetness making your hips jerk. Your neediness amused him, almost as much as your fear.

The clinking sound of his belt undoing only made you squeeze your thighs together, searching for friction despite how wrong it felt. But the smoldering need in your gut was stronger than your moral code. Your thighs spread slightly, welcoming him. You could hear a faint chuckle behind you, your willingness nothing short of amusement to Carlos.

He nudged the tip of his cock against your slit, coating himself in the slickness he was the cause of. Just like all those times before, Carlos didn’t wait, he took what he wanted. Always.

The first thrust pushed you hard against the glass table and stole air from your lungs. You never got used to his size, the stretch always stung a little, the force of his thrusts always left your hips aching the next day and you knew you’d be feeling the same later.

He hissed, forcing himself to the hilt before pulling back and in again, setting a steady pace. His large hands gripped your hips, keeping you pinned between him and the table. You knew there would be bruises, bruises you’d hide, bruises he’d expose. Regrets you’d have to face one way or another.

Carlos pressed one hand against the small of your back, making you arch, your ass pushing back against his hips.

“That’s it…that’s it,” he murmured, looking down, your ass bouncing off his hips a mesmerizing sight. As your cheeks spread further apart, his eyes fell to your tight hole, and Carlos felt an itch he could not help but scratch. His hand slid down, his thumb pressing against it, feeling you clench around him.

He growled, pressing a little harder, testing your reaction. When you whined and clenched again, he knew he found a sweet spot.

“Fuck, you like it, princesa? You like when I play with your tight little ass?”

Your insides were molten, your resolve and pride burned to a crisp. Even your unspoken protests evaporated right on your tongue from the heat. “Yes…fuck, yes!” you panted out, feeling the knot in your stomach coil.

Carlos grinned, his thumb staying where it was, relishing in your walls fluttering even tighter around him, pushing him closer to the edge. He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

“Such a dirty little thing… you want it? Tell me you want it, princesa.” You knew he was getting close when his mouth spewed the filthiest words, looking to get off on your reactions.

Your tongue nearly lolled out of your mouth, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You knew what he wanted to hear and you gave in.

“Please,”

Carlos bit his lip, groaning as you begged for him, the act alone making his cock twitch. “Again, let me hear you.” You felt his chest press against your back, pushing you impossibly closer to the table to the point you thought it would break.

“P-Please…” your voice was louder this time, enough to the man above you. He grunted in satisfaction, his pace faltering before he spilled himself inside you. His hips stilled, but the weight of him continued to bruise your smaller body.

Carlos took a moment before he pulled out, panting, the grip on your hip easing. Your knees bucked slightly with exhaustion and Carlos, thinking himself merciful, grabbed at your elbow, pulling you up. You looked up at him but the sight of the cunning smile on his face told you that this was far from over. He yanked you in his direction and you ungracefully landed on your knees, the impact making you whine. Carlos snorted with laughter, adoring the sight of your pathetic self beneath him. He stepped closer to you and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, instead, you were met with the sight of his still-hard cock, now glistening with your mixed juices.

“Clean it…” His bottom lip twitched slightly, along with his eyebrow, taunting you as he breathed deeply. He pushed your limits, used you to his heart’s content, all because he could. Each little request a test to see if you’d break and disobey. But the moment your lips wrapped around him, his hands were back in your hair.

“Fuck— good girl,” the overstimulation made him groan, tightening his hold on your hair. You licked at him obediently, the taste salty on your tongue. He revered in the skill of your mouth, praising it as you worked. Every gag made him coo in a mocking tone and when you pulled off, he didn’t hesitate to take the reins. He took hold of his cock, his other hand in your hair, and dragged it over your cheek, across your face, a sick grin spreading across his lips as he watched you squeeze your eyes tightly so none of the mess would get there. He knew the smell would cling to your sweet skin, that was why he did it. He pulled back to look at his work.

The sight of your makeup ruined, cheeks stained, now with the added smell of him on you. Perfect. Carlos grinned, moving to tuck himself back in his suit pants.

“Now, that’s a pretty slut. Come on, let’s go…”

…

want more patrón!Carlos? lemme know in my askbox!! I plan on writing more for this AU and would love to know your thoughts on it<3

2024 @ gokyrts . Do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[flwrkid14]

Letters in Green Ink: Phantom's Footsteps on Gotham's Rooftops

Tim Drake was no stranger to paranoia. It was practically a job requirement in Gotham. But this? This was getting weird.

It started small: the feeling of being watched on rooftops, a shadow a little too close. Harmless, at first. But then the sticky notes began.

Random, anonymous sticky notes. Clues he’d missed. Addresses for gang hideouts. Details on corrupt businessmen.

He found one on his motorcycle seat. Another on the Batcomputer. A bright green note scrawled with:

“Check the docks. Midnight.”

Tim had learned to trust his gut, and his gut was screaming: This is not normal.

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

Meanwhile, in another corner of Gotham:

Danny Fenton was hovering invisibly above a warehouse, nervously biting his lip. He was shaking. Not because he was scared of Gotham’s criminals. Nope. The real danger? Red Robin’s eyes.

Danny: internal screaming 'Why did I think this was a good idea?'

Also Danny: hovering invisibly above Tim, whispering to himself: “Okay, Danny. You’re helping. You’re useful. He doesn’t need to know you’re a stalker. A cool stalker. Like a… guardian angel! Yes. Totally fine. Not creepy at all.”

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

Tim, mid-stakeout, could feel the eyes. Again. He spun around, batarang ready. Nothing. Just empty shadows. The wind.

He scowled. “Alright, whoever you are. You’re getting annoying.”

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

Danny floated a few rooftops away, clutching his chest. “Oh my god, he spoke. And he’s mad. Why is that hot?”

He watched as Red Robin took down three thugs single-handedly. His fighting was brutal, efficient. Danny, invisible and swooning, whispered: “He’s so cool.”

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

The next night: a bust gone sideways. Tim found himself cornered by more goons than expected, already calculating the least-bad injury. Then, out of nowhere, a ghostly chill swept through the alley.

Blowtorch thug? Frozen solid.

Gunman? Knocked out cold.

And there, floating in the moonlight, glowing white hair and intense green eyes: Phantom.

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “You. You’re the one who’s been—”

Phantom blinked, stammered, “Uh, gotta go!” and vanished like a startled deer.

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

Back in his lair (aka an abandoned Gotham clocktower because aesthetic™️), Danny spiraled. “He saw me. He saw me! Oh god, why did I freeze that guy? Cool guys don’t freeze goons.”

Jazz’s voice in his head: “Danny, you have to stop.”

Danny: “I CAN’T, JAZZ. HE’S TOO PRETTY.”

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

Tim was in full detective mode. Batman-level scowling. “Phantom. Ghost powers. Clearly interested in my cases. Why?”

He scanned the city. Ran searches. No results.

But the sticky notes kept coming.

“Check the East End warehouse. 10pm.”

“Watch out for the armored guy. He has backup.”

Tim didn’t know what was more frustrating: the lack of information, or the fact that Phantom was always right.

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

Finally, one night, Tim cornered him. Literally. Phantom turned a corner and smacked into Red Robin. Hard.

Tim crossed his arms. “Alright. Talk.”

Danny, blushing so hard his glow flickered. “Uh… hi.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Why are you following me?”

Danny, brain short-circuiting: “I LIKE YOUR… uh, CAPE.”

Tim blinked. “My cape.”

Danny nodded furiously. “It’s… cool. Flowy.”

Tim stared. Silence stretched. Then: “You’re helping me.”

Danny swallowed. “Um. Yeah?”

Tim’s voice softened. “Why?”

Danny, panicking, blurted: “Because I like you!”

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

Silence.

Tim’s brain: Error 404.

Danny: contemplating phasing into the floor.

Finally, Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… are the most chaotic stalker I’ve ever had.”

Danny, grinning nervously: “So, um. Friends?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “We’ll start with coworkers.”

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

Danny, flying away, fist-pumping in the air: “He didn’t say no!”

Tim, watching him go, muttering: “I need coffee. And maybe an exorcist.”

[url-is-url]

So, the headcanon that ghosts fight to socialize, and also to teach baby ghosts how to use their powers, right?

Johnny 13 is in Gotham. No particular reason, he's just hanging out. He manages to goad the day shift bat kid into a motorcycle race! Fuck yeah, what's better than harassing high school aged superheroes?! Anyway, he and this kid are tearing up the streets and the kid whips out some crazy fucking shadow powers. Um? What happened to Batman doesn't like metas??? (Obviously Batman isn't actually prejudiced against metas, he just logically doesn't want to deal with superpowers + fear toxin and shit, but... his PR could use some work on this front...) Well then, Johnny has crazy fucking shadow powers too, so OBVIOUSLY he needs to compare notes with the yellow kid. By escalating.

Duke Thomas is having a No Good Very Bad Week. This crazy blond dude on a bike is TESTING HIS PATIENCE. And is a total bad luck magnet, the ONLY reason nobody's gotten killed by their chases is that Duke can see when something terrible is about to happen just in time to prevent the crazy coincidence of the moment. Also he can drive through walls? Duke learned that he can take his bike through shadows, that's pretty cool, but this whole situation is still very frustrating. HE IS TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A NEMESIS!!! He asks Babs to run some facial recognition magic and the only match is some guy who died in a motorcycle wreck like twenty years ago??? Duke compiles a file to present to the Batfam, fully expecting them to call him crazy when he explains his theory that his nemesis is a ghost.

Batman: That tracks actually. I've dealt with a dead highwayman who calls himself Gentleman Ghost, and there's a ghost on call with the League. Here, have some nth metal gear, it's ghost proof, good investigating :)

Duke: *TheSignal.exe has stopped working*

Duke finally manages to catch his ghost guy! He goes to question him about why he feels a need to be such a nuisance.

Johnny 13, grinning, not answering shit: Hey, you guys are detectives or whatever right? Have you ever tried hiding in the shadows under someone's clothes to stalk them?

Duke: ***TheSignal.exe has stopped working***

Duke: WELL NOW I'M GONNA

[sheep-from-rad]

Note: This is supposed to be a whole headcanon fanfic for everyone but I lost the plot after my brain decided a weird headcanon about Jason.Also I’m eating crackers with leftover pasta sauce because I ran out of spaghetti noodles. Note Note: I’m using motorcycle laws from my country so I don’t know if it fits in your place Masterlist divider by: @strangergraphics and @strangergraphics-archive Also I have a question: If I write a Jason Todd x reader series, would you guys read it?

“This is ridiculous Todd. There is barely any room in this side car” Damian protested, arms crossed with a dark green helmet on. He sat near the sidecar’s mini door, trapping you between him, Jason, Tim and the motorbike’s engine as if fearing that you’ll jump off when on red light. 

You thought that running away from the mansion and starting anew was a power move. Well, it was a power move but you completely disregard the fact that your family is composed of vigilantes with a former MI6 agent as a butler. The moment they learnt that you left was the same moment they got your location and started dropping by like a bunch of stray cats at your doorsteps. 

It started with Jason becoming your roommate (it’s like he knows your rent hiked up and you need a roommate or you’ll be forced to take more shifts), Dick’s patrol change and frequent drop bys to restock the pantry and Tim becoming your classmate (he says the course intrigues him but you know he already had that course learnt before). Your nights aren’t safe as well, if you’re not being followed home and then you’re suddenly waking up in the middle of the night to find yourself being cuddled to sleep by Damian and Bruce. 

And when you thought it can’t get even more ridiculous, this month Jason came back to the apartment with one of his old motorbikes modified with a two-seater sidecar and more helmets. 

“I told you, Gotham laws only allow one backride and you’re a minor. You don’t even have classes today” Jason interjected. He made a quick turn in a safe alleyway to escape the traffic and while doing so his other hand reached to check the seatbelts on the carseat. “You got all your stuff right? I won’t be able to go back and forth now since I have a patrol waiting.” You only answered a lazy ‘yeah’  at his question. Ever since they learnt you leave, they came to your door and started playing siblings and honestly it just feels weird. Sure you pined for that bonding but doing it now when you already have your heart close. 

“Since when did you adhere to the laws and isn’t Drake a minor as well?”, Damian pointed at the sleepy Tim behind Jason’s back. The teen is strapped on Jason’s back with an adult version of a baby leash, drinking coffee and eating donuts you guys got from the drive thru. “Wait, do you even have a driver’s license?” 

“Well, I have Dick’s driver’s license and Tim can reach the foot peg of the bike.”

“(Name)” Jason called, making you stop from walking. Tim stopped as well, opting to wait for you so you two can walk together to class.

“What is it?” 

You turned around to find him pulling a couple of folded hundreds from his pocket and depositing it in your hand. “What is this for?” A bribe? Is he paying you because he wanted a ‘sibling bonding time’ again? 

“This month’s rent. Bruce already bought the apartment buildings so he wants you to have the month’s rent back” 

Well shit.

dang I got so used to writing in headcanons I forgot how to write reader dialogues.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 200 }

tender love and care.

sylus x (non mc)fem.reader

because you were labeled as sylus’s woman while here at the n109 zone, you were given several special privileges that made you just as powerful (if not, than more so) as sylus solely because you had such a man wrapped around your fingers.

you recall the date that marked your three month anniversary with him, where sylus gifted you a ruby, teardrop necklace with a matching ring as he told you the significance of his gift immediately,

“each time you walk out to explore the city and head out to work when i’m not around, these rubies will be a reminder to others that you are mine. that you’re under my constant protection, and should anyone dare to disturb your life, i’ll be there to teach them a lesson they shall never forget.”

even the memory of the passion in his voice, coupled along with the way he playfully bites down on your ring finger was enough to make you shiver in response.

the fact that you held his heart within the palm of your very hands filled you with a sense of unbidden joy, where you wanted to do nothing more than to litter his face with gentle butterfly kisses and shower him with the type of unconditional love he had been missing from his entire life.

and you had been with him ever since, never once regretting your decision to remain by his side.

currently, due to certain circumstances at work where several people had called out sick, you were forced to work a double shift. you did your best to cover for your missing coworkers as your supervisor gave you a grateful expression. once your shift ended later that evening, he allows you to take the rest of the week off as a thank you for all your hard work. despite the exhaustion you felt, you couldn’t ignore the undeniable happiness that courses through your veins.

as you step out of your workplace, you were immediately greeted by sylus. he was parked directly in front of your workplace building while leaning against his motorcycle. a grumpy expression was seen on his face, painting his handsome features in a scowl as the sight of it all made you giggle in response. all too eager to see him, you stop directly in front of him and allow his arms to automatically encircle around your form.

“i should kill that boss of yours for making you take over.” he growls into your ear, clearly upset. you tighten your arms around him in hopes of calming him down when you admit to him, “hey, there’s no need to be so grumpy. in fact, my boss was kind enough to give me the rest of the week off thanks to my hard work.”

upon hearing your words, sylus visibly relaxes, pressing a kiss against your lips before tossing you your helmet. it was specially designed in your favorite color, and you couldn’t help but smile at it for a moment as you held your helmet within your hands. sylus ends up donning his helmet first before getting on his bike, turning back to narrow his eyes at you, silently gesturing at you to get on.

with a playful roll of your eyes, you wear your helmet and get on behind sylus, wrapping your arms around his front. he places his hands over your folded arms, giving it a brief squeeze before revving up the bike and making its descent out into the city. knowing that he chose to take the scenic route back home, you take a moment to admire how brightly the city lights shone like gemstones beneath the moonlight. giggles were heard escaping from your parted lips, and oddly enough, sylus was able to hear the sounds of your laughter as he briefly gives your arm another squeeze with one hand before navigating expertly across the streets.

quite some time passes before you and sylus return to your shared penthouse apartment. he parks in his usual spot before taking off his and your respective helmets, holding them both in one hand while interlocking his fingertips with yours in the other. despite how you had been with him for close to two years now, your feelings never once went stale for him. you were just as in love and enamored with him as the first day, the day when you had just met him.

while riding the elevator with him to the top floor, you cuddled your body closer to his shoulder, earning a knowing smirk from him as he gives your hands a gentle squeeze in response. when you both finally reach the top floor, you watch sylus as he takes long strides toward the penthouse all while unlocking it with his key.

the moment you enter your shared home. you were immediately hit with the mouth watering scent of your favorite takeout, seeing it all spread out on the coffee table. you were so happy to enjoy all of your favorite foods with sylus that you couldn’t help but lean in to give him a chaste kiss.

“you’re spoiling me, my grumpy crow.” you tell him while framing at his face.

he scoffs before taking your hand, gently biting down against it with his crimson eyes twinkling with mischief and love for you, “anything for you, darling.”

sylus gestures at you to enjoy the meal first, moving to the side to place his keys on the counter along with storing your helmets. with your stomach growling, you take a box and dig in with your fork while settled on the couch, moaning at how delicious everything tasted. a few minutes later, sylus returns back to you with his arms crossed, clearly amused at the way you kept stuffing your face.

“how cute.” he hums before catching you off guard, choosing to pick you up from the couch as he settles you on his lap. your cheeks were felt heating up in response, yet still, you were comfortable enough to cuddle yourself even closer to his chest while continuing to eat.

you both enjoyed the rest of your late dinner, with you spoiling sylus by feeding him bites of your food and vice versa with him as well. by the time you finished your meal, you felt so full that you could barely move, choosing to land against him when sylus places the empty boxes and utensils on the table.

“what’s this? has my princess had her fill?” you cough at how suggestive he sounded, hiding your face within his shoulder as you playfully bit down against it. a low groan was heard coming from him, and you let out a soft, victorious laugh while telling him, “sy, i’m too tired and full to move… can you carry me?”

he feigns annoyance with a huff of your name, but doesn’t deny you of your wishes (he never could deny you). with a grunt, he stands back to his full height while carrying you in his arms, bridal style. you end up giggling profusely at the sensation, burying your head within his shoulder as he leads you to your shared bedroom and opens the door to the master bathroom.

setting you against the counter, sylus helps with taking off your clothes, leaving you bare for him as he does the same. you were given a moment to admire his delicious body, eyes tracing at the muscles that decorate the entirety of his godlike body. he sees your hungry stare and smirks before taking you in his arms once more. he begins to hum an unfamiliar turn, but you bask in this uncharacteristic softness exuding from the leader of onychinus (a side he only saves for you).

while keeping you in his embrace, he fills his luxurious, porcelain tub with warm water, adding your favorite scented bubbles within it before entering it with you. with his back settled against the tub, your own back was pressed against the front of his chest. you let out a soft moan upon feeling the hot waters surrounding you. the sensation of it coupled with the way sylus’s large hands began massaging at your shoulders was enough to make you practically melt against him.

you were dimly aware of his rich chuckles against your ear, dozing off against his gorgeous body. sylus works on washing your form while lathering your hair with shampoo, the sensation of it all earning a series of soft purrs from you.

“heh, is my kitten satisfied?”

you merely let out a hum in response, moving your head to the side as you allowed sylus to give the newly revealed skin of your neck a series of reverent kisses. once he was satisfied with cleaning you, rinsing your body free of any soap suds, he gets out of the bathtub while still holding you within his embrace.

never once does he leave your side. from drying your body with a plush towel, to helping you get into your sleeping clothes, sylus takes spoiling you with care to the next level. and by the time he reaches your shared bedroom while placing you in bed, you were already half asleep.

as you lay beneath the covers, body curled as you remained cuddled to him, sylus takes a moment to admire you. his long fingertips were felt brushing through your damp hair as he manages to capture a wet strand within his grasp, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss against it.

“i bet you have no idea what you do to me…” his gruff whisper was directed toward you, but it was clear that you were so deep in your slumber that you didn’t hear him. with a huff of your name, sylus reaches over his nightstand to pull out a tiny, velvet box. upon opening it, it would be revealed to contain your dream engagement ring.

as his gaze focuses on you, he takes a hold of your left hand with a hum, sliding the ring against your left ring finger before admiring it. a smirk paints his handsome expression when he leans closer to press a kiss against your ring.

“once you awaken… then you’ll know that my promises of forever has always been true and not simply a play on words. i hope you’re prepared to be mine, my darling love.”

and despite how you were in a deep sleep, sylus could have sworn he saw you smiling in response to his fervent promises of forever.

a.n. - don’t mind me, this is just a self indulgent mess that i need in my life. i love sylus so much;;; i need him so badly 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.