#so when I get into a show I really get into a show

[madamechrissy]

Pornstar Satoru

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation, mentions of drug use, weed smoking, Gojo has an OF hehe, lots of longing, pining, Satoru can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru

This will be a FULL fic as a thank you for 11k followers (I can't BELIEVE I'm almost there!?!??) I wanted to show a little preview first, so here are some hcs!! Thank you all sm for following meee <3 Comment to get tagged!

Pornstar Satoru is one of the most famous pornstars there are, hence him constantly wearing jet black shades and hoodies at times, he never knew just who he'd run into that would recognize him. Whether it's his flicks or his OF - he's the top .01 % - he gets a lot of notice, especially in bustling LA. But, he loves what he does, he especially loves watching his abs flex in the camera as he hits one of his lovely costars from the back.

Pornstar Satoru loves making the costars and girls he collabs with actually cum, where they're shaking and squirting all over his latex covered cock. Not that fake shit like he watches them do with other men- no Satoru makes sure to slam that curved tip against their cervix, to roll his thumb right on their clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Perhaps that's the secret to how famous he really is, along with his good looks.

Pornstar Satoru makes so much money from each shoot and is in high demand, so he can have whoever he wants as a co star. They line up to have a chance at him, watching his videos and aching for a chance to feel his cock hitting them deeper than damn near anyone could hit, to say they got to shoot with the Satoru Gojo. This just makes Satoru fuck them harder, smiling right at that camera, as women dream it's really them that have captured his pretty blue eyed gaze.

Pornstar Satoru thinks it's a pretty damn good life, being rich for fucking beautiful women on camera, as he's inhaling a blunt after a threesome shoot with his best friend - and often costar- Pornstar Suguru, as they talk about who got the girl to squirt more, right in the middle of a bouguie party in East LA. Suguru let's out a throaty laugh, while Satoru narrows his blue eyes. 'I had her cumming so hard she was shaking' he says, taking a hit and handing it back to Suguru. 'Nah, that was all for me, did you see...'

Pornstar Satoru stops listening when he sees you enter the room, completely out of place at the coke filled, booze filled party, wearing a pair of black glasses that cover half of your pretty face, and a little nervous look as you stand there, in a cute white pleated skirt and a big oversized sweater. Satoru smacks Suguru on the shoulder then and he coughs up smoke. 'Shit what is it?' Satoru looks back at you, when you're handed a drink, some guy flirting as you look down shyly. 'Who's she?' Suguru blinks a bit curiously. 'I don't know, she's pretty though'

Pornstar Satoru scowls at Suguru who snorts in laughter then. 'Satoru we don't have 'girlfriends' and she... looks like a good girl' your eyes catch his then, across the room, like something shifts as you smile sweetly, before peering at your phone, biting your lip in concentration. 'I'm talking to her' Suguru chuckles as he watches his friend, and Satoru feels his heart race when he comes too close to you, something he can't say he's felt, even pleasing countless beauties, nothing has quite altered him as your sweet turn of lips, as you look down at your converse, so out of place you're fucking adorable. 'Hey sweetheart... Satoru Gojo' he says, introducing himself with ease, expecting you to maybe notice him, get starstruck, fuck women get wet just near him, but you simply grin, and your name whispers through his mind when it spills from your lips.

Pornstar Satoru has you sitting with him later, you fall into easy conversation, you're a little gamer nerd, you love science and the environment, he just bets you were head of your ecology club in college, which you quickly confirm, all while you're in awe of just how beautiful this man is. He's sweet, he's sexy... you feel he shouldn't even be talking to you. You're pretty but... he's experienced so clearly, by every way he moves, he's worldly, so confident, and you've never really left this little part of LA, but the two of you can't stop talking, to the point you forget what brought you here.

Pornstar Satoru laughs with you, as you're sitting side by side, and he lights up a blunt, leaning back on the burgundy couch on the outskirts of the party, inhaling it deep into his lungs. 'Want a hit, sweets?' he murmurs, you take it nervously, putting it to your lips and inhaling a bit, before coughing, covering your mouth. Satoru chuckles, 'you're cute' earning your cheeks heating up. 'Can you tell I don't do this?' you're nervously tapping your leg now. 'Yeah, what does bring you here, doesn't seem your...' 'my scene?' he nods then. 'yeah, that.'

Pornstar Satoru watches avidly as you sip on your drink, wincing at the strong liquor. 'Well, my friend invited me over, but she's running late' Satoru grins now. 'Party time is different, everyone comes late, that's on time. About fifteen minutes late' 'oh no I came early!' you smack your own forehead, giggling along with him. 'Are you like... a model, or an actor?' you ask, eyeing him and his baby blues, the cheekbones so perfect, those lips that wrap the blunt again. 'You could say I'm a bit of both,' he muses, then spits out his drink when you ask 'what are you in!?'

Pornstar Satoru coughs just a bit, he's never been ashamed of what he does, but he's nervous for some reason to tell you. Why, he doesn't know. 'I'm... into some indie flicks' you brighten up then. 'Oh, let me know, I love lowkey films! I bet you're great' Satoru sighs, gulping down the rest of his drink and eyeing your cup. 'Want more?' you frown now, maybe you're asking too much, or offending this actor that you don't recognize him!? You nod, the amount of people around you making you press against this friendly, pretty white haired stranger just a little more.

Pornstar Satoru has another drink, eyeing the sea of bodies undulating in the extravagant mansion, and soon the two of you are dancing together you're cute and so awkward, Satoru's enjoying this far, far too much. He has plenty of costars and fans come up to the two of you, but he's too interested in showing you how to move your hips to pay them any mind, when finally your friend comes. Satoru instantly recognizes her, she's a pretty famous co star he's collabed with on her Onlyfans not long ago. When she sees you giggling and enjoying yourself so much, she damn near drags you away, making Satoru curse.

Pornstar Satoru eyes you when your friend whispers in your ear- 'you really don't recognize him!?' you blink curiously, looking at him more closely. 'Should I?' she sighs then, eyeing Satoru up and down. 'He was in my OF videos, we collabed' you heat up furiously then. 'I never watched your videos! I just subbed to be supportive!' she giggles. 'You're so cute, I thought you at least watched some?' you shake your head nervously. 'I don't really watch, is he... like an OnlyFans guy?' Satoru is back over with Suguru now, while you sip your drink, feeling your body warm up. 'He's the top pornstar there is, the collab was like a dream. He's really sweet but you should know is all, you're kinda...' you glare. 'kinda what?' she giggles again. 'you're just... sweet, emotional, is all'

Pornstar Satoru expects you to be done with him once you find out, after all you just seem innocent, uncorrupted for this city, not the kind of girl to be at this party where lines are being snorted off bodies, and people are naked and jumping in the pools, a heady, wild atmosphere. But you smile at him, as you murmur - 'he's sweet?' to your friend. She nods then. 'He is, but just know... he doesn't date so, it'd only be physical' you frown at that now, that's not something you think you can do, you're about as demisexual as it gets, hence your very limited experience. 'He doesn't date at all?' Your friend gently touches your shoulder. 'No, love, I'd hate to see you hurt'

Pornstar Satoru catches you before you leave later that night, when you are just feeling too out of place, his big hand wrapped around your delicate wrist, earning you looking up at him. He can't stop thinking how pretty your eyes would look rolled back, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock, as you relax a bit, turning and looking up. 'Headed out already?' he asks softly, you flush as you remember just what he does for a living, your friend had just described his cock in far too vivid detail. 'It's not really my thing, but I'm glad we met, Gojo' you smile so cute then, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek, his arm wraps your waist as he leans down, inhaling that sweet vanilla scent cloying to your skin.

Pornstar Satoru pulls you in closer, blue eyes staring under snowy lashes. 'Can I... get your number?' Satoru has never asked for a number a day in his life, but he delights in watching you shift nervously, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 'Yeah, I'd like that' he exchanges numbers, tilting your chin up then, watching the way your eyes dilate, the color spread on your pretty cheeks. 'She told you?' you clear your throat, nodding a bit, still being captured by his fingers. 'I don't judge at all, Gojo, I'd still like to be... friends...' your whisper is met with the most subtle kiss on your lips, shooting desire hot and heavy until Satoru releases you, plump lips smirking- 'sure, sweets, we can be friends'

Pornstar Satoru can't get you off his mind, the feel of your skin on his, the sweet sigh against his lips. He is on a big shoot and - the Satoru Gojo that never gets soft - is having trouble keeping it up, to the amusement of his costar Pornstar Sukuna. Satoru scowls at his comments, just picturing your sweet lips against his for that brief moment. A man who just fucks and fucks, and doesn't feel, is hung up just on some fucking kiss. He has to take a break after pleasing his costar with his fingers, she's cumming so much she doesn't notice, but the directors wonder why he's off. He's in his own dressing room, eyeing the phone, hands shaking as he decides to type a message - 'could you give me a picture, sweets, to save as your caller id?'

Pornstar Satoru finds his cock is right back on hard when you send one quickly, just a cute selfie with a little peace sign, but he sees your glossy fucking lips, the teeth indentations he aches to rub the tip of his cock on, along with just a hint of your breasts. Your nipples press against the thin material of your little tee shirt- Pokemon, he notices, smiling- his cock throbbing. 'Can I get one too?' you're biting that lower lip nervously as you ask, getting a picture of him shirtless then, doing nothing to stifle the curiosity in your mind, your heart racing as you seee his body. 'You at a shoot?' you ask in the messages, he hesitates before answering - 'yes' - and somehow you feel jealous of whoever his costar is. You message a - kill it, Gojo! - despite the feeling in your tummy, little do you know you're drowning his fucking mind when he performs later, feeling the star squirting all over his latex covered cock.

Pornstar Satoru can't stop texting you that week, he can't even get hard if he doesn't look at that picture, and you can't stop your curiosity, when you friend mentions he's doing a live stream. Since Satoru can hardly perform, he's decided to masturbate on live cam, in minutes making more than he'd make in a shoot, all while having your picture propped up. People are chatting, watching, dollars by the hundreds being tipped every moment, fuck he's making way more than he usually would, and he can think of you. He laughs softly, abs flexing as he hits the right angle, reading the comments, making you dripping wet, this isn't what you do!?

Pornstar Satoru is stroking his wet, slick cock that's glistening, up and down with his huge hand, and you feel your pussy clench, breath coming faster, unsure whether to look away or keep staring, meanwhile he's picturing you in all sorts of positions, on your knees, a fucking mating press. He's shutting his eyes for a moment, grinning as the viewers go crazy. 'I know, it's pretty, huh?' he spits right on that long, veiny cock of his, pinching his pink tip and whining, white lashes fluttering open right when he sees a familiar name enter the chat.

Your name.

hehe it'll be a FULL FIC not a drabble/oneshot - if you're interested in getting tagged drop a comment <3

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[berrryparfait]

shower head ✩⋆｡˚

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: feeling curious, playful, and pent-up, you decide to surprise him by stepping into the shower and giving him head. you've never done anything like this before. 「my girlfriend can be quite surprising at times. and bold.」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] literally just smut, lads men being needy while you suck them off, dubcon but deep down parties involved could not have been more willing (they told me personally)

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: bathroom – montell fish

✧ a/n: hihi!!! wow, it's been a while! this is my first fic on this account—i used to run @.starfellforyou but got a little bored of writing genshin fics and decided to hop right on over to another one of my hyperfixations instead... this also happens to be my first ever nsfw fic (i told myself to stop daydreaming and start writing lol), so please lmk if there's anything i'm doing wrong/missing out on as i'm fairly inexperienced when it comes to tumblr etiquette. hope you like it! <3

SYLUS squints at you, his hands stilling in his hair as the last suds of shampoo run off. "Are you lost?" he drawls, voice dripping with honey. He steps away from underneath the overhead shower and turns to fully face you—he's gorgeous, muscles slicked with running water and face slightly flushed from the heat. You simply stare at him with a mischievous glint in your eye, a teaser for what's to come. "It's unlike you to show up like this, unannounced." He smirks at you, unabashedly eyeing the length of your naked body and tracing your gaze to his semi-hard cock. You return his lewd expression. "I do love to keep you guessing." Slowly, you kneel before him, rivulets of water gushing down the side of your face and between your bare breasts. He leans against the wall as you open your mouth to take him in, his movements lazy. It's a struggle at first, but the low groan that escapes his lips turns it into a challenge. You run your tongue along his length, eyes glistening with cruel anticipation as it hardens to the point of no return. Determined, you begin to push deeper, moving back and forth as he sighs and throws his head back against the wall. With a delicious "pop", you release him from your mouth and begin teasing his tip. You circle his favorite spot and try your best to resist a smile when he squeezes his eyes shut, breaths coming shorter and faster and in white puffs of steam way above you. "Fuck..." His hands find their way to the back of your head, where they gently but firmly grasp your hair and begin to pull. Your mouth is guided back around his cock as you begin to suck him off harder, sounds of pleasure that beckon you to pick up speed echoing overhead. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. His hands around your head get rougher—more desperate—and you reach out to grab his thighs as his tip slams against the back of your throat. Hot spurts of cum fill your mouth, drip down your chin, coat the impressive length of his cock. There's so much of it. You both pant in exasperation, completely spent, only partially satisfied. The look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. I'm getting fucked tonight. "Get up, we're going to bed."

ZAYNE works hard. So hard that you feel he deserves a little treat. Dr. Zayne may dedicate his life to helping others, but you want to dedicate your life to helping Dr. Zayne. A simple equation, really. The look on his face when he sees a very exposed you enter the shower while he's in it is pure gold. He frowns in shock, his cheeks turning pink as he backs away from you and makes a feeble effort to cover himself and protect his decency. It's endearing, the genuine confusion on his face. Need to make him cum hard. Really hard. "W-What are you doing in here?" He darts his eyes from side to side as he tries to avert his gaze from your breasts, now inches away from his chest. You shut the door behind you and get down on your knees. "You've had a long day at work, Doctor. Let me help you relax..." You gesture for him to sit down on the shower bench, and he reluctantly complies. "I'm afraid this isn't a good idea—" "Shhh..." You cut him off with a devilish grin as you breathe onto his growing cock, and a flicker of uncertainty—and begrudging intrigue—ignites beneath his pretty features. "Be a good boy for me and hold still..." You gently glide your tongue down his length, teasing him with slow, languid strokes as he writhes and struggles to stay silent. It isn't long before your mouth is enveloping his cock, eliciting whines of pleasure from deep within his throat, the small sounds driving you crazy with need. You pick up the pace, and soon his moans grow louder, more desperate. He begins to pathetically thrust skyward, helpless against the blinding pleasure of getting his cock sucked and stroked by a natural talent. "I'm gonna cum—" he whispers, strained, as you stop torturing him with your mouth and white streaks of cum shoot out in every direction, landing on your face, your tits, the walls, his thighs. You almost feel bad for him, the way he's just sitting there shivering with leftover ecstasy. But you know that once morning comes, he'd no longer be deserving of anyone's pity.

RAFAYEL may be a god, but that doesn't mean he's beyond enjoying the fruits of worldly labor. So what if his baths are the most luxurious and elaborate you've ever seen? One has never had a good bath until they've experienced shower head. You've convinced yourself of this much—now it's time to convince Rafayel. He looks ravishing as always as you enter the large shower room, his movements elegant and naturally seductive. He startles slightly at the sight of you. "Oh? Looks like I have company." He drags his eyes up and down your body, a playful smirk playing on his lips—but you know it for what it really is. An invitation. To give Rafayel exactly what he wants. Bubbles fill the room as he spreads himself across a large shower seat in the shape of a clam. Your prince. Your pearl. As if coerced by an invisible force, you gravitate towards him with a dark anticipation in your gut. He's sprawled before you, clearly getting harder by the second. Soon, he's going to get demanding—whiny, even. You need to please him fast. You circle his tip with your tongue and plant wet kisses along the length of his shaft, your way of preparing him for what's to come. His eyes are heavy-lidded, drowsy, drunk on the look in your eyes as you take him in whole, a delicious moan escaping him as you push his thighs further apart. Slow strokes, then faster ones. Repeat. You can tell he's in pain, yet somehow still in control of himself. That just won't do. "Not good enough, Your Majesty?" Your right hand moves to caress his balls, a gesture that sends him into overdrive. "Ugh, this girl—" His voice comes out garbled with a pained groan that makes your heart leap. You back away just before he cums. Can't let him off too easy. The frustrated noise that leaves his lips satisfies you more than it should, and you don't let him wait too long before you're sucking him off again, drawing out his orgasm until he nearly blacks out. He glares at you in petty indignation as his cum explodes into your mouth, both consumed by pleasure and immensely frustrated. You swallow it all down in a single gulp, feeling proud of yourself. "Who has the higher ground now?"

XAVIER jerks away from you as if you were a bad omen, instinctually bringing his arms up around himself in an attempt to block your view of him. It's no use, of course—he's as exposed as you are. "Uh..." A violent blush tints his cheeks as he fumbles for words, vivid blue eyes unable to meet yours. "Can I help you?" How could someone come off as so shy and judgmental at the same time? The thought makes you smile. "I'm here for you, cutie." He doesn't seem to understand, but it doesn't matter—you'll just have to show him. You grab his arms and gently coax them away from his body, baring his semi-hard length to you and making him squirm. Your fingers wrap around the base of his shaft, stroking gently as he gasps and twitches. The expression on his face has shifted, dark and cautionary. "Kneel," he orders, and you obediently get down on your knees. He pushes his length against your lips and groans, any trace of the bashful, reserved boy who'd almost pushed you back out the door completely gone. You lap at his precum, the taste of it salty and slightly bitter on your tongue. He nods once, giving you permission to take him in whole. Oh god. Overwhelmed, he closes his eyes and throws his head back against the flowing water, pure bliss written all over his face. "Just...like...that..." His tortured moans are like music to your ears, a symphony giving you new resolve as you begin pumping him with heightened speed. Your hands are looped around his knees, which you notice are shaking slightly with the threat of release. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you picture him coming undone, wholly and undeniably submitted to you, a beautiful mess of your own creation. He stares down at you dangerously. You look up at him with doe eyes, because two can play that game. Who is predator and who is prey? With one last luscious stroke of your tongue along the base of his shaft, he lets out a strained cry of pleasure, planting a hand on the wall behind you to steady himself. Strings of his seed land on your face and tongue as you smile up at him, already giggling at the adorable change in his demeanor. Back once again is the Xavier you know; introverted, demure, and utterly embarrassed with himself. "No more coming in like this..." He sounds serious at first, but then he glances away and chuckles softly—and your heart explodes.

CALEB doesn't even give you time to explain yourself. One second you're stepping into the shower and the next you're sitting against the wall, your thighs flush against the stone floor. "Interrupting me again?" His tone is intimidating, so different from the way he spoke to other people. For a split second, a jolt of delicious fear shoots through you, settling right between your legs. "What, too scared to speak, Pipsqueak? You're the one who came in here." He takes a step slower, his dick inches from your lips. He's already hard. Too hard. The look in his eyes is ruthless—predatory. You begin to question your capabilities, but it doesn't last long. He slides his length into your mouth, all the way, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to prevent yourself from gagging. "You look so pretty with me in your mouth..." The thought sends waves of pleasure through you, punctuated by sudden, hard thrusts as he fucks your face with concern for little else but the devastating pleasure coursing through him. This power dynamic, this feeling of being dominated—it's all too much. Don't stop. I don't want him to stop. Your moans are muffled and weak beneath his own savage grunts and he continues to push into your mouth, hands braced on the wall above you as he pushes against his own weight to gain momentum. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Your eyes well with tears as he thrusts deep into you one last time, warm bursts of cum filling your throat and coating your tongue. His breaths are belabored, sweat and water dripping down his chest as he looks down at the mess he created. Your face is streaked with tears, and the sight makes him smirk. For a moment, it's as if he's back to being the kind little boy you once knew. But any semblance of innocence vanishes with the next words that leave his mouth. "I'm not done using you yet, Pipsqueak."

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[sheisoverhere]

Peeta Mellark is an integral member of the four D12 victors. He is literally the sunset on the reaping! How is this not clear? I’ve never wanted to report people for bad literary analysis more and I’m only half joking. It has forced me to commit a cardinal sin: analyze in anger!

1. Him being chosen by absolute accident is the point. Not only does he represent every single other tribute who simply gets chosen because they live in a messed up country but he represents how even with some odds being in your favor (older siblings, merchant family, being white, being popular, etc.) you are still very likely to be victimized by the oppressive structure of Panem.

2. When Haymitch says, “But she was smarter than me, or luckier” - the luck is all the people around Katniss who created the circumstances for her to lead a successful revolution (her father teaching her to hunt, the arena having woods, Rue healing her with leaves, Thresh not killing her, Haymitch consistently giving her support, her mother teaching her aspects of medicine, on and on and on) and Peeta is the number one, most important part of her luck in the first book. She has someone in the games actively putting her life before his… are you kidding? There is legitimately no better luck than that.

3. Even if we take Katniss out of it, Peeta is so impactful as a victor because most of his scenes would not be cut/doctored. What’s there to edit out? Instead, the viewers get a full view of him loving a girl so selflessly, using trickery and strategy instead of violence, keeping himself alive through art, joking on literal death’s door, and sharing so much of himself with the audience it becomes harder for them not to see him as a real human boy. How rare do you think that is for the games? Haymitch and LGB are caricatures of themselves in the games, playing roles that flatten them down. Even Katniss becomes one dimensional on screen without Peeta (and Rue, of course). It is also heavily implied that he does not kill anyone during the games (in a straightforward way) and even if you count Cato or the girl from 8 or even foxface, it’s never him hunting them or seeking out a kill - again how rare do you think that is to see on screen for Games viewers?

4. I didn’t think this needed to be said but: Katniss dies without Peeta in the first games. a) she goes for the bow and dies in the bloodbath; b) she is hunted and killed by Careers; c) she is killed by game makers because there’s no love story angle to keep them from just burning her entirely; d) she dies from tracker jacker stings or Cato because Peeta doesn’t defend her or tell her to run… I could go on…

5. But even if she does win and wins alone - the victory means as much (I would argue less than) any other rebellious victor winning, certainly less than Haymitch’s win. The biggest rebellion for their games is that two of them win! This is legit the only thing that distinguishes them from any other sympathetic, kind child who would have won the games. Like if Haymitch or Finnick or Wiress winning isn’t jarring enough for the Games to end… why do you think Katniss killing Peeta and winning solo would be? It would not.

6. And finally, I cannot stress this enough: There is no peaceful end to the rebellion or the trilogy without Peeta. “Peeta’s a whiz with fires” (HG) for a reason! Collins, over and over, shows us how fire can get out of control and destroy even those who are innocent and who you love (Gale, Beete, Peeta’s family, Haymitch’s family). If everyone really burns, there’s no one to clean the ashes. The reason not everyone burns is because of people like Peeta who can coax the flames in a way that is nurturing and consistent. I mean…. “Peeta fashioned some kind of incubator” is such an obvious detail. Those goslings don’t hatch without Peeta, life does not go on in peace and joy without Peeta.

It is no coincidence that when Maysilee says Lenore Dove got the “jump on us all” (in being a rebel), she is referring to LD using orange paint to make protest art!

We must stop pushing Peeta Mellark out of the narrative! He is literally the sunset on the reaping!

[vitalverstappen]

Man's Best Wingman - C. Leclerc

summary: they say dogs are a man’s best friend, but a certain dachshund may be man’s best wingman

pairing: Charles Leclerc x veterinarian!reader

warnings: none ( i mean use of y/n if you count that)

word count: 2.6k

It was no surprise that Charles Leclerc adored animals, specifically dogs. So, when word spread like wildfire around Monaco that he had adopted Leo, it was only a matter of time before the duo showed up in your clinic. 

You had heard about Leo from the gossip mill - Charles had been spotted walking the dog around the streets of Monte Carlo, and the photos of the two of them quickly made the rounds on social media. The sight of the Formula 1 driver, usually so composed and intense, walking around with an adorable dachshund puppy had the whole city cooing with affection. 

You had been working as a vet for a few years now, as one of the only ones in Monaco, so you were no stranger to having a celebrity walk through your doors. In fact, you had Alex Albon walking through your doors practically every month with the zoo he had. But hearing your techs swoon at the fact Charles was in your clinic, made you question how big this guy really was. 

“Y/n, Leo Leclerc is in room four for you. He’s here for his routine exam. So far everything looks good,” one of your techs said. 

“I bet Charles looks even better,” another one called, overhearing the conversation. 

Your eyes rolled, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at their remarks. “Focus on Leo, not Charles,” you teased, though you knew their excitement was understandable. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you grabbed your stethoscope and walked toward room four. You were a professional, after all, and your job was to make sure Leo was in tip-top shape, not to let the celebrity connection distract you. 

As you knocked lightly on the door, you heard a soft voice call from the other side. “Come in!”

You opened the door to find Charles sitting on the exam table, with Leo happily bouncing around at his feet. The little dachshund’s tail wagged furiously as soon as he spotted you, making a beeline for you as though he’d known you for ages. 

“Hey there, Leo,” you said, crouching down to meet the enthusiastic puppy. You pet him for a second before standing back up. “I’m Dr. Y/L/N, but you can call me Y/N. I’ll be your primary veterinarian.”

Leo’s little tail wagged even harder at the mention of his name, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the sight. His big brown eyes stared up at you, full of trust and excitement. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Charles said as he got off of the exam table. His smile was easy, and you noticed how much more approachable he looked when he wasn’t in his racing suit. “I’m glad to see you’re the one handling Leo today.”

You nodded, doing your best to focus on the task at hand, though your heart was pounding into your throat. “He’s a cutie. And I’ve heard a lot about him from the clinic’s gossip mill. Seems like you two are quite the duo.”

Charles chuckled lightly, glancing down at Leo, who was now sitting patiently at his feet, as if sensing the shift in attention. “Yeah, Leo’s been a good distraction for me. Definitely makes my life a bit more fun, and I think he’s a great companion for my downtime.”

You turned to Leo, picking him up and placing him on the exam table, where Charles once sat. “He’s got a lot of energy for a little guy. Looks like he’s been keeping you on your toes.”

Charles shrugged, the slightest hint of amusement in his expression. “He definitely does, but I love having him around. Plus, he’s a great way to relax after a stressful weekend, just walking him around and enjoying the quieter side of things.”

“Sounds perfect,” you replied, settling your stethoscope into place. “Let’s make sure everything is going well with him. I’ll just start with a quick check-up, get his vitals and make sure he’s healthy.”

You focused on Leo, quickly going through the routine exam. His heart rate was normal, his coat was shiny and healthy, and his eyes were bright. After a quick examination, you looked up at Charles. “He’s in great shape, Charles. No issues at all. He’s a happy, healthy little guy.” 

Charles sighed in relief, his smile widening. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I might be doing something wrong.”

“Not at all,” you assured him, chuckling. “You’re doing everything right. It’s clear you care about him a lot.”

You scooped Leo into your arms and informed Charles you would be taking Leo into the back room to give him his shots. What you didn’t mention was that it was also an opportunity for all of the techs to fawn over the puppy. 

Once you brought Leo back into the exam room, Charles' eyes lit up, though you were unsure if it was at you, or the dog. You gave him a few instructions for Leo’s next few weeks, including a reminder to keep up with his vaccinations. “He’s good to go! Just a few follow-ups, but nothing to worry about.”

You bid goodbye to the driver as you guided him up to the receptionist's desk. There, you gave instructions on the next exam date. 

Charles had the day of the exam circled on his calendar the minute he got home. Sure, he wanted to be a good dog dad and pay attention to Leo’s appointments, but he also couldn’t wait to see you again. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t realize that since Leo had done so well, the follow up appointments that had been scheduled were only with the techs, not with you. He went through with the appointments, but in the back of his mind, he had to find a way to see you again. And thankfully, Leo gave him plenty of excuses. 

It all started when Leo ate a blade of grass. 

Now, Charles knew that eating grass wasn’t going to kill his dog, but he was worried it might make him a little sick… and he wanted to see you again. 

So, he scheduled an appointment.

As soon as you saw Charles and Leo’s names on the schedule, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You tried to shake it off, you were just doing your job, but there was something about seeing him that made you feel a little lighter. 

As the time drew nearer, you found yourself making sure everything was in order, the clinic bustling with its usual activity. Your techs were curious no doubt - they’d fawned over the duo when they took care of the dog’s follow up appointments, and definitely talked about the “celebrity dog dad” a little more than they probably should’ve. 

“Y/n, Charles and Leo are in room three for you. He mentioned Leo had eaten some grass earlier today, but so far, everything seems normal,” your tech informed you 

You walked towards the exam room, preparing yourself to see the driver and his dog again. As you entered, you saw Charles sitting on the chair this time, gently scratching behind Leo’s ears. The little dachshund’s tail was wagging, and he immediately perked up when he saw you, jumping down from Charles’ lap. 

“Hey, Leo,” you greeted, crouching down to pet the excited pup. “What’s all this fuss about grass, huh?” 

Charles looked up from his phone and smiled when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N. Yeah, Leo decided to sample some grass this morning, and now I’m just a little paranoid.”

You chuckled, standing up to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Dogs eat grass all the time. Most of the time, it’s harmless. But let’s take a quick look just to be sure.”

You began your routine examination of Leo, checking his belly, feeling for any signs of discomfort, and listening to his heart. Leo seemed perfectly fine, happily squirming and wagging his tail as you worked. 

“See?” you said, glancing up at Charles. “He seems to be in good spirits. No signs of anything bothering him.” 

Charles let out a relieved sigh, but there was still a hint of concern in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve just been overthinking it. But I’m still getting used to being a dog dad, you know?” 

You smiled warmly, meeting his gaze. “Like I said at our first appointment, you’re going great, Charles. Leo’s in good hands.” 

He looked at you with a soft smile, and for a moment, there was a brief pause in the conversation. It was like neither of you wanted to break the moment, but eventually, Charles cleared his throat and stood up. 

“Thanks again, Y/N. Seriously,” he said, giving you an appreciative look. “I’m glad I came in today, even if it was just for a little blade of grass.” 

“It’s no problem at all,” you replied, trying to keep your composure. “Take care of Leo, and we’ll see you for the next check-up.” 

But you saw him much sooner than the next check-up. 

Only a few weeks after the grass related appointment, your receptionist came into the back area, where you and your techs were prepping for surgery. You had a busy day ahead of you, with having back to back appointments all day, and the only break you got was your thirty minutes of lunch. 

“Mr. Leclerc is on the phone,” your receptionist began, causing a bunch of oooo’s from your staff. “He said that Leo stubbed his toe and wanted to see if you had availability for today.”

You paused for a moment, wiping your hands on your scrubs as you turned toward your receptionist. “Leo stubbed his toe?” you asked, trying to suppress a smile. You could hear the excitement in your staff’s whispers behind you, but you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much Charles’ calls were starting to feel like little breaks from the clinic chaos. 

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” your receptionist replied, her tone amused. “Should I tell him to hold on or that you’re in surgery?” 

You quickly ran through your schedule in your head. It was packed, but a stubbed toe? You could squeeze that in. You didn’t want to seem like you were too eager, but you couldn’t help but feel a little excitement at the thought of seeing Charles again. 

“I can take a shorter lunch,” you said, giving your receptionist a quick nod. “Schedule him for the last twenty minutes of that half hour.” 

Your receptionist raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as she turned to make the call. As soon as the door closed behind her, your techs immediately leaned in, their eyes sparking with curiosity.

“You know you two aren’t fooling anyone, right?” one of them teased. “You’re excited to see Charles again.

“And he’s got to be wanting to see you if he’s making an appointment over a stubbed toe,” another one chimed in. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to stifle a grin. ‘It’s just a stubbed toe,” you replied, but your voice betrayed you, laced with a hint of amusement. “He’s just a concerned dog dad. Nothing more.” 

Your techs exchanged knowing glances, clearly not buying it. 

“Uh-huh,” one of them smirked. “A ‘concerned dog dad’ who keeps calling in for the tiniest little thing. Sure.”

“Maybe you should get him a frequent flyer card,” another suggested, grinning. 

You shook your head, trying to ignore the warmth growing in your cheeks. “Focus, guys. You have things to do, remember?” 

They held up their hands in mock surrender, but you could still feel their eyes on you as you turned back to finish prepping for the day. 

When the status of Leo’s appointment changed to “arrived” on your computer, it took everything in you to remain calm and composed. The butterflies in your stomach only grew as you heard Leo’s excited barks from down the hall. 

Once your techs informed you that the Leclercs were ready to see you, you made your way to the exam room, trying to keep yourself steady with every step. When you opened the door, Charles was sitting there, looking as relaxed as ever, with Leo perched on his lap. 

“Hey there, you,” you greeted Leo first, just like you always did. “I heard you got a stubbed toe this time around.”

Charles chuckled, giving you a sheepish look. “I know, it’s ridiculous. But he seemed to be limping a little, and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

You nodded, appreciating his concern for his dog. “It’s never ridiculous to take care of our furry friends,” you said, your eyes briefly meeting his. There was a warmth in his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. 

You got Leo up on the exam table, gently checking his paws and making sure everything looked good. As you worked, you noticed Charles’ gaze lingering on you - though this time, it felt different. His smile was softer, more intentional, and there was something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. 

Finally, after checking Leo’s paw, you turned to Charles. “Good news. It’s just a little sore, probably from the way he landed. No major damage.”

Charles visibly relaxed, his tension easing as he gave a small sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

As you gave Leo a few gentle pats and wrote down the instructions for recovery, you could feel Charles’ eyes on you again. There was a quiet moment between you two, one that made the air feel just a little thicker, like there was more unsaid than spoken. 

“Thank you for always being so patient with me, and with Leo, and I appreciate you squeezing us in at the last minute,” Charles said, standing up to walk toward the door. He paused for a beat, then glanced back at you with a small but meaningful smile. “Would I be able to squeeze into your schedule again sometime, for coffee or drinks?”

You felt your heart flutter as the words hung in the air. It was the question you’d been waiting for, yet the reality of it still made your breath catch in your throat. For a second, you just looked at him, the familiar warmth in his smile making your pulse quicken. 

You tried to play it cool, but you couldn’t hide the slight blush creeping onto your cheeks. “I think I could make some time for you,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “I’m not usually this free, but for you? I’ll make an exception.”

Charles’s smile widened, and you could see a spark of relief in his eyes. He stepped back into the room, the distance between you narrowing as he moved closer. “Tomorrow? After work?” he asked, his tone a little more tentative, as if waiting for your confirmation. 

You nodded, your heart racing a little faster now. “Tomorrow works. Let’s say, six?” 

He gave a small, excited nod, clearly trying to contain his enthusiasm. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up. I’ll make sure not to keep you waiting.”

You both stood there for a moment, the air thick with anticipation, before he gave a final smile and turned to leave. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

As he exited the room, Leo wagged his tail, clearly eager to follow. You watched him walk out, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside you. You leaned against the exam room table for a second, trying to catch your breath, before shaking yourself out of the daze. You still had a job to do, but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as the thought of tomorrow played over in your mind.

[serensho]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

wings

in which mark meets someone with viltrumite-like powers — and has an angel’s wings?

invincible x fem!reader

warnings: world-building, smut fluff, not canon-compliant at all

inspired by kali uchis’s angel & igual que un angel

wc: 2800

“We don’t know exactly where she came from… but we do know she fell from an extreme height in the sky, or even space, down to Earth.”

Mark examines the hospital bed as he glances at Cecil with suspicion. He crosses his arms, puffing his chest out as he peers closer through the glass. It’s unlike Cecil to joke, much less about something as ridiculous as this.

“Do you realize what you’re telling me right now? Some girl with angel wings fell out of the sky suddenly? Is this some sort of prank?”

Cecil sighs, looking at his feet as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“No, Mark. She fell in Chicago, and left a huge mess for us to clean up. But after everything that’s happened, who knows maybe she was sent here for a reason. God knows that the city needs something to believe in after all the destruction.”

Mark turns away from the glass, fidgeting as he looks at the ground. 

“So why did you call me here? Is there some sort of problem with her?” Mark asks as he turns back to Cecil, sizing him up. 

Their relationship was never a good one, but when Mark received a message that he needed his help with some sort of situation, he felt compelled to come to the Pentagon, despite their bad blood. There was some sort of unexplainable pull – a siren’s call urging him to listen for once to see what was happening. But maybe that gut feeling was wrong, since all Cecil had done so far was present to him some poor girl in a hospital gown hooked up to countless machines, her wings held tightly together with some sort of harness or tape so that they couldn’t take up too much space. They looked to be pretty big, a mixture of ivory and white but he couldn’t get too good of a look as she shifted in the cot.

“Well, we’ve been running some tests and found out some interesting information about whatever she might be. She’s incredibly strong, and if she wakes up on the wrong side of the bed could do some major damage, even more than when she fell. And –”

Mark scoffs, rolling his eyes. Cecil gives him a look before continuing, “Mark, we believe the powers she possesses aren’t that far off from your own, or even Atom Eve’s. She can make beams of pure light, heal herself, and even though she’s unconscious has some ability to sense and manipulate the emotions of those around her. Don’t ask how we found that out.”

Mark raises his eyebrows in confusion looking back toward the girl behind the glass. 

“I see. What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Well, the reason you turned out so…you is because of your mother and the fact that you got to experience humanity. So, show her how to be human.”

Mark stutters out, “Huh!? Do you want me to play house with her and show her the ropes of being normal? I’m the last person who could do that!”

Cecil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I really want is for you to let her stay at your home for a bit, let her experience some normalcy. For all we know she could be here to take over Earth. Or because it’s some sort of punishment. Just let Debbie talk to her at least. She’s doing a pretty good job with Oliver so far.”

“You want me to let her stay with my family? No way–”

“I already spoke to Debbie and she said she doesn’t mind. Even though the girl has powers, she could’ve used them in far worse ways and hasn’t yet. She just crashed here, passed out upon impact and has been sleeping since. But we think she’ll wake up soon.” 

As soon as Cecil finished speaking, Mark heard the sounds of the monitors behind the glass beeping rapidly. He watched as you woke up slowly, rubbing your eyes, stretching your arms, pushing against the restraints against your wings until you looked to your back in confusion. You examined your surroundings before landing on Mark and Cecil, walking towards the glass, tapping on it tentatively. 

Mark looks you up and down as you stare back at him with curiosity. There’s definitely something otherworldly in the way you move, not to mention your looks. Such beautiful eyes, a shine in them that gleams as he finally makes eye contact with you. There’s a strange swirling in his stomach – but that was probably just your powers. 

You tilt your head, eyeing Mark in his suit. The way his muscles ripple, material spread taut along the span of his shoulders and his sharp jawline visible – but you can’t see his eyes. You huff and turn away from the glass. 

“Where’s Donald? He always spoke to me. You just stare and this one I’ve never met before,” You say as you conjure up a beam of light that cuts through the bindings holding your wings together. 

“He’s busy. And you have someone new to talk to: Mark Grayson,” Cecil introduces, patting Mark on the back before opening up the door to your room, ushering Mark in. He bristled as the door slammed shut behind him, effectively trapping him and you together. 

The air felt different suddenly. Electric. He watched in awe as you stretched and unfurled your wings a few feathers falling and landing gracefully. They seemed to somehow shimmer despite the sterile lighting and looked impossibly soft. He met your eyes seeing a vulnerability in your gaze that hadn’t been there before. But as soon as it appeared it faded away as you spoke.

“So they want you to be my babysitter? The customs of my people are not that different from yours. But you’re not completely human, are you Mark Grayson?” You asked your eyes never leaving him as you walked around him, examining him. You went to grab his goggles off of his face before he swatted you away.

“No, no I’m not. But I’m not going to treat you like a child. Cecil just wants me to… help you adjust to life here on Earth.”

“Oh.” You looked away from his eyes standing in front of him with your arms crossed. “I may have just awoken, but I know many things. Your kind– your father’s kind are the reason I’m here. But I…I can’t remember what exactly happened to my….” You trailed off, a hand coming to your face as you turned your back to him, wings filling his vision completely. 

Mark wanted to reach out, to comfort you somehow but he didn’t know what to do. “I can guarantee you, that I am nothing like my father, or any Viltrumite,” he spat the word out in disgust. 

You turned back around, conjuring a small beam of light that reached out to him, and he froze. Were you going to attack him? Instead, the light shaped into a hand-like shape, its fingers taking off his mask and goggles and placing them gently onto your cot. You waved the beam away as you walked towards him again, finally completely face to face with him. In the silence there was an understanding and again, that pulled towards you to let you do whatever you wanted with him, to him, and he felt frozen in place.

“A heart like yours has gone extinct among the Viltrumites, if it ever even existed in the first place. And my own I think is what caused me to be sent here. I won’t harm you Mark.”

In your luminous eyes he saw his own and relief washed over him. A heart like his? He wasn’t sure if whatever you were sensing was a result of your powers or just sweet talk. But he was definitely looking forward to learning more about you. 

“You think you’re here because of Viltrumites?” he asked as he shifted under your gaze.

“I think so. Whatever my purpose is, it’s tied to you and this planet. But it’s as though a fog has been placed over my mind, I-I can’t completely remember. I do remember falling, sorry about that,” You played with the end of your hospital gown nervously. “But I feel it in my chest, in my soul that I’m in the right place.”

You smiled gingerly at him, something new in your eyes. Embarrassment, maybe from the fall and having been so close to him.

“Alright. If you’re going to live with me and my family there’s a few rules that need to be laid out.”

Mark wasn’t kidding when he said there were lots of rules for you to follow. Despite being under Cecil’s watchful eye regardless, Mark made sure to keep tabs on your whereabouts and what you were doing as much as he could. You spent a lot of time at his home, helping Debbie with dinner, watching and spending time with Oliver, becoming a role model and friend to him. You especially liked playing sports with him, and flying since he was so curious about your wings. They also fascinated Debbie, the only person you had let touch them, feeling a sense of comfortability only a mother could create. It was fleeting, but it was a sign that you were embracing this new life, something you explained to Mark after she had rubbed the space between them on a night when you were feeling homesick, not having left your bed all day.

In a way, you just fit into his home, his family so well, he couldn’t help as that pull towards you, grew into a sense of affection and fondness. And that feeling was tested one day when Mark went up against a particularly strong villain.

Mark really hadn’t expected the guy to be so strong. He was facing punch after punch, being beaten into the ground late at night when he looked towards the sky and saw… it had to be–

A blinding beam of light exploded, shattering nearby windows, the force pushing the attacker away. Somehow you had created a cell of light that he was now trapped in, hearing his shouts of pain and the sizzling of skin as he tried to get out.

“Mark! I saw what was happening and had to help–I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” You exclaimed as your hand hovered above the center of his forehead. His limbs and face tingled as he closed his eyes, succumbing to the feeling that began to roll over him in crashing waves of tenderness, softness. Your healing powers began to take effect as he felt himself finally able to sit up.

“T-Thank you, angel…” He coughed as he looked toward you, a vulnerability in your eyes that was reserved only for him. 

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, melting into him as you scratched at the hairs near the nape of his neck. That felt good…

“I was so scared, Mark. Please–Please you have to let me and Oliver help you. Don’t ever go off on your own like this again!” You let go of him as you looked into his eyes, scolding him. Your gleaming eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight, eyes shining with tears. One fell, Mark carefully brushing it away as he cupped your face delicately.

“I’m sorry. Let’s go home, angel.”

Instead of staying in your own bed that night, you ended up in Mark’s, tending to his lingering aches and pains wearing one of his shirts that you cut the back off to make room for your wings. You began rubbing his back, relaxing him further before he moved to face you.

After what had happened, he knew he had to do something, to finally act on whatever it was lingering between you. You looked at him, as curious as the first time you met and tilted your head so cutely.

“Is something wrong, Mark? Was I too rough?”

He waved his hand away, dismissing what you had said. 

“No, never angel. It’s just I was thinking and maybe I could…” He took a deep breath before taking your hand into his, “Maybe I could help you relax too? Could I touch your wings?”

You offered a coy smile, eyes downcast. You looked up into his eyes, watching as his face bloomed into a timid smile matching your own. You nodded, before saying, “I might need some help, you know,” You gestured to your–no, his shirt. You turned your back to him, crossing your arms as you moved to take it off, Mark rushing to help you. 

“O-Oh yeah, of course.” 

He helped you take it off carefully, the expanse of your back visible to him, wings unfurling and fluttering coquettishly. His hands hovered as he took in the sight before him. He could also see the soft curve of your breasts, but they became obscured as you crossed your arms. 

“You can touch me. I trust you, Mark.”

He swallowed, before rubbing the space in between your wings watching as you rolled your neck. The skin there was soft, and he moved to touch where your wings protruded from your back. You shifted, a small noise of pleasure escaping from your mouth.

He continued, stroking the feathers of your wings as he felt you relax, slumping slightly. They were so soft, so delicate and yet he could feel the strong hard muscle lying underneath. He began to massage the space beneath where your wings came out from your back and you whimpered, wings fluttering and stretching out further. You moved to clasp a hand over your mouth in shame before Mark leaned into your back whispering against your ear, his voice seeming to deepen.

“It’s okay, baby. Let me hear you, angel. Can I keep touching you? Somewhere else, maybe?” 

“Y-yes, please,” you whined quietly, music to his ears. 

Mark reached around from behind you to cup your breasts, feeling their weight between his hands. You turned your head to the side, the sensation engulfing you as he began to place soft kisses against your neck. He rolled a nipple between his fingers, pinching it as he began to nip and suck against your neck. His rough hands felt so good against your silky skin and he breathed in your sweet smell.

“You like that, angel?”

You nodded, crying out in pleasure, already sensitive from his hands on your wings.

“Use your words, sweet girl.”

“Mmmm, I love it. Please Mark, please,” you begged, unsure of what you were even chasing as his lips met yours in a searing kiss. Your tongues melded together as you brought your hand to run through his hair, your other becoming entwined with one of his hands still playing with your chest. The kiss continued, as Mark trailed his hands lower, pulling away to look into your eyes, asking for permission. The hand in his hair left, guiding it to the heaven between your legs as you began to grind against his hand. 

“Angel, you’re so wet.”

He lovingly caressed you, rubbing against your clit over your panties as he pulled you into another kiss, swallowing your moans. He rubbed faster, as your breathing became heavier, pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

“Mark–!” you cried out as a final warning before complete bliss filled your senses, wings spreading as far as they could, the downy feathers glowing. The room was illuminated as you came down from your high, slouching into his embrace as you rested your head against his shoulder. He kissed your temple as you felt something warm and hard…and wet against your backside.

“Mark, did you…?” You looked into his tired eyes as he looked to the ceiling in embarrassment.

“I-I couldn’t help it!” He stuttered out as you shifted, your bodies moving against the bed until you were on top of him, straddling him.

Your eyes shimmered as you splayed your hands across his chest, kissing him sweetly. Whatever this was– at first it felt inevitable, inescapable. But now you knew that you two were meant to be, a connection, a binding of hearts that were meant to connect in one way or another. It just happened to be like this. He looked at you as you used your powers to convey this feeling, eyes softening even further if possible, as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, placing his hands on your hips and squeezing.

You laid on top of him, your wings creating a sort of cocoon around you both as you whispered into his ear as he had before your voice sultry and yet sweet, “It’s okay, baby. Now I get to return the favor.”

You two were in for a very, very, long night.

a/n: if you made it this far, thank you for reading! this is my longest fic to date and i hope you all enjoy it!! i'd love to maybe make this a series of sorts w/ supernatural reader so lmk what you'd like to see; i'm also going to begin working on that hercules!au but please send in requests and inspo, i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

[bejeweledinterludes]

still got the blues.

OR on one quiet night spent in the bunker, you discover that the notorious, god-fearing, big, bad ‘n scary, six-foot badass hunter that is dean friggin’ winchester (aka one of your closest friends) isn’t as tough as he seems.

well.

in bed, at least.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : sub ! dean x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 8.8 k. (FAITH BE NORMAL CHALLENGE LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS 🤺🤺🤺 GET BACK! AWAY!later seasons sub dean winchester x fem reader (yes i have a problem, no i don’t care thank you!). masterbating, handjob, unprotected sex. yeah this may be the horniest thing i’ve ever written in my life.

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

HELLOOOOO THE LONG-AWAITED SUB!DEAN SMUT IS FINALLY HERE 🙂‍↕️🙏‼️ shoutout and thank you to @supernotnatural2005’s drabble / oneshot for the inspo on this one <3 because i think we all want to catch dean like this— which is why i wrote about it!

ALSO @figthoughts’ post from the other day too… yeah idk guys we’re just horny and ovulating connected or something when it comes to mr. jensen ackles and his characters. love you figgy pudding!

𖤐 ─────────────────────────

being on the road with sam and dean for god knows how long now, you’d gotten used to all the sounds each idiot knucklehead brother would make in their sleeping state as you passed their rooms— so much so that it was basically white noise at this point, and you just tune it out.

yeah, tonight was different, though. sam had left much earlier— he and elieen were finally going on a real, live, actual date, much to your joy. which meant you and dean were alone in the bunker together. that doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you usually stay up watching 80s movies and arguing over niche things like whether or not they used real flames in back to the future (they didn’t).

that was yet another reason why tonight was different: you hadn’t seen dean all day, much less tonight. he’d been out doing god knows what— and you barely even heard him come back a few hours ago.

but you didn’t push. actually, you didn’t dare to set foot past dean’s door— taking the long way down the hall to get to the kitchen or the library throughout the evening, secretly hoping he wouldn’t come out of his room or even acknowledge your existence.

because… honestly?

living with two other men?

who the hell were you kidding. you could use a night to yourself.

and not to your knowledge or anything, but so could dean.

no disrespect though, because dean really was wishing you were there— or, rather, he was imagining you with him, which was the only acceptable option at the moment.

…but this was definitely a new low. even for him.

see, while you were actually attempting to be productive with your night, dean was not.

like, at all.

while you were doing your laundry, putting clothes away in your room, watching a show on your laptop with your airpods in— thank god, otherwise this whole thing would blow up in dean’s face…

…for the most part, figuratively.

because dean— and how does one say this without sounding like a complete and total creep?

well, dean was jerkin’ it in his own room.

fappin’.

beatin’ da meat.

whatever the male version was of flickin’ the bean.

oh, and the (best) grossest part?

he was thinking about you while doing it.

yeah, yeah, it’s sick, it’s definitely wrong on so many levels— and it sure as hell feels downright illegal and a sin to be doing it while you’re in the fucking bunker.

it’s the lowest of the low. weird. pathetic.

but then again, dean’s always been a little… pathetic when it comes to you.

don’t let anyone know you know that, though.

so, back to dean being pathetic and horny. he’d been at the bar in town for hours earlier tonight, trying to find someone to satisfy the strain on his pants— and that someone needed to look a whole lot like you to get the job done.

how hard could it be?

well, apparently, in lebanon, kansas, finding a look-alike clone of your best friend so you could fuck them silly? it’s really goddamn hard.

and so was dean.

so here he was—did i say pathetic already?— jerking off in his bedroom like some horny teenager. he’s on his fourth, maybe fifth time cumming to the thought of purely just you.

that’s right, no porn, no nudie mags, not even a goddamn picture in his free hand— because dean was wound up so freakin’ tight, he didn’t need anything. just his hand and his filthy imagination.

it’s humiliating. dean’s literally bucking his hips up into his hand as of right now, imagining it’s yours and not his— all while letting out these little noises that do not sound like they’d be coming from a six-foot, tough as nails hunter. but they are.

and they’re all for you.

dean winchester does not whimper. hell, no. but the broken sound that rips from his throat, tossing his head back on his pillow after he tugs a little too hard on himself was anything but.

and maybe dean should be making less noise— but he knew you so well, too well— you’d have your airpods on noise canceling, anyway. and he can’t even think about if you didn’t. he’s too wrapped up in a haze right now. he’s so distracted. by-god intoxicated.

because dean’s imagining you after that one hunt in virginia. yeah. the moon had been out that night, and god, the way it hit you— a combination of this deep blue and silver and it just lit up your skin, illuminating you like you were one of those ancient goddesses, like the ones he’s only read about in old myths and legends when he’d been so bored he actually did research in the library.

dean’s imagining you, just you, right there with him, and it was your hand, not his. imagining you pulling those sounds from his throat while he’s breathing so heavy, his chest heaving up and down. and the sheets covering only his bottom half were shifting with him as he was moving what seemed like his entire bed along with him as of now.

dean was trying to be quiet.

but his body was not letting him.

and poor you— oh, sweet, innocent you. because as far as dean knew, you were completely oblivious to what was currently occurring in his bedroom at the moment.

but what dean didn’t know was that your airpods had died over an hour ago.

and you’d made the mistake of not taking the long way back to your room this time, thinking that dean had gone to bed due to the late hour.

you had stopped in your tracks in the hall coming back from the kitchen— because you heard dean. heard his little broken groans, damn close to whimpers.

and you genuinely believed that dean was just having a nightmare at first— because hell, with the shit you guys encountered on the daily, it wasn’t uncommon for any of y’all to make a goddamn racket in your sleep.

drawing that conclusion— because it was the only one that was realistic, you start towards your room again, already starting to tune out dean’s weird-as-hell noises.

but before you even take two more steps past dean’s room, you hear something else— a little muffled through the door, but clear as day. because it sends a jolt straight through you.

your name.

he’s having a nightmare, you remind yourself. he could be just calling out to you in that sense, because that would be logical. but then he says your name again. and again.

and it’s just your name.

not sam’s.

not cas’.

just. yours.

and dean sounds like a man possessed at this point. his eyes are squeezed shut, as if he’s trying to banish the image of you from his mind.

but he can’t. and he never would.

he just can’t do it. can’t keep himself in check anymore.

so that’s why dean groans your name at the next motion of his hand on his dick— saying it for the fourth time since you’ve been stopped outside his door.

and it wasn’t a ‘i’m-in-so-much-pain-and-scared’ groan, the kind when someone has a nightmare— no, dean’s groan sounded like a ‘oh-that-feels-so-fuckin-good’ groan, like the kind someone makes when…

oh.

oh.

dean knows he sounds pretty close to, if not completely pathetic. not at all like the good ol’ badass hunter of lore, not that you’d believed him to be. you’d think he’d sound more in control, or at least not whimpering.

dean’s battled both heaven and hell. purgatory. angels, demons, monsters, even sometimes, just people, you name it— he’s fought it and kicked its freakin’ ass, even god himself.

and his one fault? his only weakness?

you.

it’s always been just you. your stupid pretty face. the way you laughed at his jokes, even when they weren’t that funny. the way you stood by him and his brother’s side— and in the hunting world, associating with the winchesters meant a death sentence. you didn’t care, though. you never did. it was in the way you were always there, especially when it counted.

and here he was. jerking off and thinking about you.

this had to be rock bottom. right? if not that, purely a whole new level of scumbag. even if you couldn’t hear him.

oh, but you could. and you’re lingering outside dean’s door— because you didn’t even have to put your ear on it to hear the noises he was making, clear as day.

dean feels like he’s drunk, delirious. this always happened whenever he fantasized about you. a pathetic, groaning and whimpering mess. hell, in this state, he’d damn well beg.

and oh, he was.

“fuckin’— please— god, i need you, please—”

damn, you could almost see it— dean’s hand, hidden by the dark of his room, but the way the sheets move makes it obvious just where his hand is. and it’s a blur.

yeah. there was no more holding out, no more being strong. not now.

because dean feels like he’s on the edge of his own personal hell.

and you? you’re stuck.

dean was… well, fucking doing that. and you’re just… stuck. you would have just kept walking past his door, putting your pillow between your ears and teasing him about it tomorrow morning.

because instead crying or groaning out the name of some random girl or even farah fawcett— dean was currently begging.

for you.

and you’re still stuck. dean feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. he’s gonna cum again, he knows it. he also knows he should be quiet, but the words and your name just keep spilling out of his mouth, and he’s too far gone to stop them.

“ah— fuck. please. please, please, goddamn it, i need you, i need you, i need you…”

yeah, dean’s brain’s not in charge anymore. honestly? it hasn’t been since he met you all those years ago— with your stupid pretty hair, and your stupid pretty mouth, and the stupid soft sounds you make in your sleep that drove him insane whenever you used to share a motel room.

dean needs you.

and you needed a fucking cold-ass shower.

because the way dean was sounding right now? he only sounded like that in your dreams. your deepest, darkest fantasies. it was making your knees buckle.

yeah. there’s absolutely no way any of this was real. this was straight out of a porno. this had to be the trickster’s doing, or something.

because the real dean didn’t act like this. and yet, here he was. and here you were, your stomach flipping each time a sound leaves dean’s mouth and bounces off the wooden door that was still splitting you two apart.

and right then and there, you wished you had the balls to just open it.

because you wanted to be right there next to dean, pulling those noises out of him yourself.

“need you—need you right there, need you, right, right, oh, god, there—”

even in dean’s own fantasies, the ones that drove him to insanity like right now, he’d always thought about this. you actually being there, him actually saying all this to you.

dean would’ve given anything, then. anything. just to have you right next to him in his bed.

yeah, well, you’re still just stuck.

because what the fuck do you do.

do you walk back to your room? pretend you didn’t notice? pretend it never happened? not listen to the sounds dean was making?

or, do you open the door? go in his room and just show dean how you’d really felt about him— for years now?

and lately, it seemed like you all you could think and dream about was being in the same bed with dean, touching every part of him.

because if you were in there right now, you’d touch dean’s skin that you yourself had deemed forbidden, because it’d be seen as crossing a line, breaking a boundary.

hello? reality check, anyone?

come on. dean was your friend.

but the noises he was making in your name— because of you? that was anything but.

yeah. if you were in there, you’d start with your hands on dean’s chest, going lower, and lower, until he started making the sounds he was making now, gasping and begging right in your ear for you, not stopping until he completely just—

yeah, that was it.

you knew your answer.

and dean needs exactly what you’re about to do. because god, he’s thought about it. in the dead of night, when he was alone, or when you’d been just out of reach sitting next to him in a dive bar, he’s wanted this. wanted you.

dean wanted to know the way your hands would feel against his skin, how your body would feel against his own. he’s thought about it. hell, he’d dreamed about it. fantasized— just like he was doing now.

and dean was still fantasizing when you throw away every single rational thought you had at the moment and manage to open his door without making a noise— thank you, hunter skills.

this was crazy. right?

eh. you’ve done crazier.

no. not like this.

and not with dean.

but still, you managed to cross the threshold of dean’s room— and you even sit down on the edge of his bed.

okay, the more you thought about it…was this awkward?

maybe.

oh, but dean doesn’t even notice you— his eyes were screwed tightly shut, mouth parted and huffing out pants and broken noises as one of his hands continues to move fervently. his hips are wild, bucking into his hand— and his body is shaking his entire bed frame.

dean’s too far gone to notice anything, lost in a fantasy that’s been haunting him for longer than he’s willing to admit out loud. the only thing that could even remotely stop him would be—

hold on.

dean’s hit by a familiar scent— the one he’d been imagining this whole time. but that really does smell like— and its now so close, so real, it practically envelopes him. and his eyes open to—

you.

right there. in his bed. within reach. looking at him like he’s always wanted you to look at him.

and there’s no disgust or anger on your face as you look down at dean, still frozen in place. no, just a hint of amusement, mixed with something else—

something dangerously close to pure want.

you don’t say anything, even though you know you should by now. because now dean knew that you knew exactly what he’d just been doing— more importantly, you were now aware of who the focus of it all was.

and goddamn if the look on your face doesn’t have dean pausing, too. he’s never seen it on your face before. and it’s too dark in his room for him to really make it out, but he thinks he sees—

you weren’t disgusted. you weren’t grossed out, or even angry.

you’re just… looking at him like the fantasy he’s been chasing isn’t a goddamn fantasy anymore— but instead something he could reach out and touch. feel.

dean has to swallow whatever excuse he could come up with to talk himself out of what you’d just walked in on. what you’d just heard. and his mouth is dry.

a part of you wants to pounce onto dean right now. to kiss him silly, touch him everywhere and make him gasp your name again— only with you being the sole instigator this time.

but the annoying other part of you halted that urge.

and why?

because of your stupid morals.

your goddamned feelings.

and you had to ask dean, had to know— even if the answer hurt you.

“how long?”

dean’s brain almost completely flatlines for a long moment. though, he knows what you’re insinuating, of course.

how long dean has been thinking about you in that way? how long and hard had he fantasized about his hands on your body, his mouth on your skin, and his dick buried so deep inside you, he gets hand cramps almost every night he’s alone?

yeah. it scares him, just how goddamn long it’s been.

“…years.”

that was all you needed. in reality, you don’t actually pounce or anything, but you do move closer to dean on his bed, tossing one leg over both of his to straddle his lap before meeting his gaze again.

“you have no idea,” your voice is barely above a whisper to dean as you keep his gaze, making yourself comfortable in his lap. “how much i wanted to hear that.”

and dean can’t help the groan he lets out, at feeling your weight, your body, straddling his lap. he’s spent too many nights dreaming of exactly this. his hands automatically go to your hips, as if they’re on autopilot.

because he’s not in charge anymore.

and honestly?

he doesn’t think he ever was when it came to you.

and a small smile tugs on your lips when you feel dean’s hands on your hips— your own fingers start to trail from his wrists and up his arms, your pace slow, but deliberate.

because you were going to memorize every inch of dean that you could.

oh, dean’s just barely managing to keep his hips still, to not buck up underneath you. he can feel you, now that you’re straddling him, the heat there, where he’d wanted to feel you for so, so long.

and when your fingers trail up his arms, dean shudders. because it’s so gentle, tender. he can’t remember the last time anyone touched him this way, if at all.

your hands eventually reach dean’s face. oh, his gorgeous face. you cup both sides, taking in everything: those green eyes of his, the freckles you could see only if you were up close dusting on his nose and cheeks—his features were illuminated only by the dim light of his desk lamp, but you could see so much because of how close you both were now.

the slight smile is still on your lips as you look at dean— because you were still a little sure you were going to wake up at some point.

but this wasn’t a dream, you had to remind myself. dean was under you. he wanted you, in the same way you’d wanted him for as long as you can remember.

and dean feels like he can’t breathe properly. he’s been slapped, punched, cut, beaten, tortured, everything violent under the sun done to his face— but no one’s had their hands on it like this.

he feels too exposed, too vulnerable, but he doesn’t move.

because it’s you. it could only ever be you.

dean keeps his gaze locked to yours, even as he has to stop himself from just completely melting into the palms of your hands on his face. he wants to look at you for forever, keep you just like this— and his expression is so open, so bare.

your thumbs gently graze across both of dean’s cheeks as you hold his face in your hands.

and you can’t look away.

so you don’t.

but you do lean a fraction closer to dean in his lap, breaking the silence in a hushed whisper— because there goes your stupid doubts and feelings, again.

“you want this?”

even though he almost wants to, dean can’t laugh. not when he knows you’re being serious. it kills him, a little— that you’re still doubting it.

because how could he not want this? you?

“god, yes.” dean’s not even sure if he says that out loud, or just thinks it— but he’s nodding regardless, and with the movement bringing his face even closer to yours.

and your gaze softens almost completely when dean says that— but there’s one doubt that sticks, even when his words wash all the others away from your mind. the one that’s been there almost the entire time you’ve known him.

“de, i…” you don’t take your hands off of dean’s face when you try to speak again— but the words die in your throat. you swallow a little, averting your gaze.

and god, when dean hears you hesitate, he’s already on edge.

dean doesn’t know what you’re about to say,— all he’s aware of is that you’re now looking away from him. and he can’t have that, so he brings his hand (non-jerking, of course) to your chin, gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him again.

he tries to keep his voice even, but he can’t.

“tell me.”

you’re forced to keep dean’s gaze when his hand touches your face— and his fingers are so warm, you almost lose your train of thought completely.

you’ve wanted dean for so long— but you had to make sure he fully felt the same way you did.

not just lust. not something to walk past awkwardly the next day.

“i— i can’t do this… just for tonight,” you swallow hard again, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flick between dean’s. “but i… i think you know that.”

even with the worry that had been coursing through his veins, dean couldn’t help but be impressed at the fact you think there’s a chance in hell he’d be able to have you once and just… let you go afterwards. his hand on your chin drops a fraction, resting on the side of your throat instead. he swallows, then finds his voice.

“i know.”

your gaze softens a little— and it’s a little embarrassing how much weight felt completely lifted off your chest when dean says that.

you had denied your feelings for dean for years now. and now knowing that he felt the same way, it was getting harder and harder to control the urge to just do what you wanted.

“well, good,” you bring your hands to tilt dean’s head up more to you as you’re in his lap, eyes flicking down to his lips— because you so needed to know what they felt like. “that’s— that’s good.”

and damn, if dean isn’t already struggling. nothing’s even happened yet, and he’s trying his best just to keep still, to resist all his natural impulses and desires to just grab you and never, ever let you go. when your eyes flick down to his lips, his follow suit almost instantly. his voice is almost a damn croak when he responds.

“yeah?”

all your senses were filled with just dean. and you needed more. you’d denied your feelings for far too long— years now, in fear of him not reciprocating. but you couldn’t deny your feelings or your urges anymore.

“yeah,” you echo back in an exhale, your thumbs grazing on dean’s cheeks. your gaze is still on his lips, but you look back up at him. “you— you’re all i’ve ever wanted.”

hot damn.

dean feels like he’s going to wake up at any second at those words that just came out of your mouth. because he never dared to let himself hope that you could feel the same way he did. and it’s been so, so goddamn long of wanting you with every fiber of his being, wanting to touch you and hold you and never, ever let you go.

oh, he’s too far gone to even feel sheepish about how he’s almost shaking now, hands trembling and breath coming fast as he’s barely keeping the reins on his self-control.

dean’s trembling sends a shiver down your spine. even after you just said all that, he still wanted this.

you might die.

or you were already in some version of heaven that jack made up.

because dean wanted you.

“just lemme kiss you,” dean would be embarrassed of how desperate and out of breath he sounded if he could give two damns. he says your name again: “please—”

dean can’t even think straight anymore. yet, never could when it came to you. his hands go to your thighs, gripping tight like it’s all he can do to resist the urge to just flip you over right that moment.

you can’t hold back anymore.

neither can he.

so you don’t.

you close the final distance between you both, taking his mouth in a kiss that’s hard, desperate and full of years’ worth of emotion.

and dean’s lips felt like home. and that’s a weird thing to say, but it was true. you’d never kissed him before this, but it really was him that you’d been missing all this time.

your hands on dean’s face trail into his hair, and you could feel yourself completely melting into him when you pull myself closer to him in his lap, hips fully slotting with his own— and you both groan a little at the feeling.

dean kisses you like a goddamn starving man, his hands gripping at your thighs so hard he’s afraid he’s leaving marks. but he can’t bring himself to care, because he’s finally kissing you. finally having you in the way he’s only dreamt of.

dean hasn’t been touched— kissed like this, ever.

like he’s something precious. to be loved. it makes him feel weak. but he can’t really bring himself to care about that, either.

all you could think about was how good dean smelled. and as his lips danced with yours, he even tasted good. like whiskey and something you couldn’t place— but it sure as hell was definitely dean.

and god, it’s perfect. dean’s trying to swallow the little noises his mouth is threatening to make again as you kiss him back, kissing him like you feel the same— he thinks he’s losing his mind for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

dean’s grip on your thighs tightens even more. he couldn’t help it anymore— he rocks you against his lap, his hips bucking up against yours in an involuntary but much needed movement. and a little sound pretty close to a whimper does escape him this time, hitting your lips as you grind your own hips down onto him.

you had to break your lips from dean’s to get stupid air, but your forehead rests against his as one of your hands unlatches itself from his hair, trailing downward on the fabric of his henley as you’re in his lap.

and you’d tease him about the noises he’s making— if it wasn’t leaving your underwear a complete and sopping mess because of it.

dean’s mind is hazy, lost in the feel of you against him and in his lap, his mind trying to keep up with all the things happening.

he’s a hunter, goddamn it.

he needs to get a freakin’ grip.

but he can’t.

because of the way your kiss felt like a drug. the way you’re so close he can feel your breathing, and the way you’re grinding up against him like you mean it—

and then dean feels your hand on his shirt, sliding further down past his stomach, and he feels like he’s about to go insane. he’s hallucinating, under some sort of spell that shows you what you’ve always desired. that’s the only plausible explanation.

but this was real. oh, so real.

dean’s hands were still holding on for dear life on your thighs, but your own was still going farther and farther down the fabric of the henley he was wearing, stopping at the hem and tugging on it, talking against his lips—

“put your arms up f’me, dean.”

goddamn, if that doesn’t make him literally shiver when you say his name like that, all breathless and pretty.

and dean follows the instruction, raising his arms and letting you pull the shirt over his head, revealing his the skin underneath.

he’s not even embarrassed of his scars, the marks on his body from over the years. not with you. the uneven skin told their own tales he wouldn’t dare open his mouth about, even after three whiskeys deep.

you discard dean’s shirt somewhere in his room without another thought when he lifts his arms up.

you’ve actually only seen dean shirtless twice— once after a hunt, and if you count that one time when that motel room with shitty air conditioning that got too hot last summer. you kept your eyes glued to the lore in front of you then, not daring to look.

this time, however, you couldn’t look away.

not even if you tried.

your lips are parted in what could only be described as pure awe while your eyes and fingers rake over every inch of new skin revealed while still in dean’s lap. first trailing a path up his exposed arms as your eyes continue to drink in all the details of him you’d never thought you’d see.

dean has never, ever been looked at the way you’re looking at him right now.

your fingers continue to trail up dean’s arms, fingertips grazing on the scars you could see in the dim light of his room. you actually knew some of them— having been there when he sustained the wound that made the scar, but a lot were new to you.

and you wanted to memorize it all.

it’s almost embarrassing how he feels like something to be worshipped under your touch. like someone to be taken care of. to be cherished.

as your fingers trail up his arms, he has to bite down on a whine in the back of his throat— forcing himself to keep still under your gaze as you rake your gaze over him. his voice is rough and hoarse when he manages to speak, but all he could get out was your name.

your hands found themselves resting dean’s shoulders while you take in the breathtaking view that is him under you, meeting his gaze when he says your name, voice just as quiet as his.

“yeah, de?”

your touch feels like dean took the jumper cables he had in the back of baby and put it against his skin. but it’s so soft, so gentle. it’s also making his whole body ache, yet he just wants more. and he can’t keep his eyes off you, either. the way you’re looking at him, at his scars like they’re nothing to be ashamed about… it’s almost safe.

dean swallows, hands coming to rest on your waist now that he’s topless. his voice sounds wrecked, broken.

because he’s begging.

“touch me.”

dean’s hands on your waist were making your heart beat all out of rhythm— and you almost completely lose your train of thought looking into his green eyes, wide and blown out.

for you.

you just nod at dean’s words— and your fingers continue their journey downward from dean’s shoulders, trailing over his skin until you eventually reach the waistband of his boxers, and you keep your hands there on the fabric when you look back up at him.

because you still needed to know:

“can i take these off?”

oh, for the love of—

dean nods rapidly before you’re even done asking, because he’d do anything, anything, to have you touch him like he had been not just a few minutes earlier— in fact, he’s already lifting his hips off the bed to make it easier for you, because he’s not about to hesitate. he needs you. he’s needed you for too goddamn long.

and when you manage to pull off dean’s boxers, discarding them in one fell swoop after he confirms and lifts his hips for you, your eyes widen at the sight of him completely exposed beneath you on his bed— and a quiet ‘jesus christ’ escapes from your lips before you can stop it.

and your reaction makes dean’s breath hitch. because it’s not a disgusted one— it’s the exact opposite. he feels vulnerable like this, exposed to you in a way he’s never been to anyone else. he should feel embarrassed. but he doesn’t, oddly enough.

his voice is so goddamn quiet when he bites down on another whine.

“please.”

and you just nod again. then both your hands find dean’s chest once more— and you start trailing a path down his lower torso with your fingers.

dean can’t help the way he lets out a strangled moan at your touch against his bare skin. with no clothing in the way to block it, he’s so much more sensitive. every single touch makes his breath hitch, his head spinning with how perfect it feels.

it’s too much.

and yet, he needs more.

dean’s hands find your hips again, gripping, trying to get you even an inch closer to him.

and as your fingers get lower and lower on dean’s stomach, you hesitate your hands. not because you weren’t sure— but it felt… well, wrong not to at least ask him for permission first.

so you look back up and meet dean’s gaze, eyes searching his again as you whisper, shifting closer to him in his lap.

“can i go lower?”

and at your question, a sharp shiver wracks through dean’s whole body— he’s half convinced he’s going to to just cum right there, even if you don’t end up touching him.

dean’s practically trembling under you now, hands gripping tighter on your hips. he tries to speak again, to say something— but his voice comes out in a strangled moan.

all he can do is nod against his headboard.

a soft exhale escapes you when dean confirms. you nod— and don’t hesitate again.

not when he was like this.

you take all of him in one of your hands— but you don’t even try to look away from his face while you do so. because you had to see his face for this.

and dean feels like the air’s getting ripped from his lungs at how good your touch feels. he’s never felt anything like this before. it could be the fact that he hasn’t had actual sex in a while (apparently, he’s considered old now), or purely just because of you.

yeah, but dean’s never been touched like this before. so goddamn gentle. but it’s still perfect. his eyes are still locked to yours, and his expression looks pained. it’s all too much, after wanting this for so long.

and all he can do is whisper your name before your hand starts to move.

you start starts slow— not too slow, though, because dean had already fucked his palm tonight more times tonight than he’d like to admit.

dean’s eyes actually flutter shut for a moment when your hand starts to move, a moan catching in the back of his throat. because it’s barely even started, and it’s so good. too good.

dean’s hands on your waist are close to shaking now, but he has to speak— even as it comes out in a hoarse croak.

because he needs—

“more. jesus, i need—”

you don’t even entertain the thought to tease dean or not do as he asked— because the sounds he was desperately trying to keep in were making you want to keep going, to not stop.

so you don’t stop. your hand speeds up, going back and forth on dean’s dick— and your gaze still doesn’t leave his while in his lap, touching him in the way you’ve always wanted to for so long.

and when you pick up the pace, dean’s breath hitches even more— god, it’s so good, but he still needs more. his hands are shaking as they grip tight on your waist, and his eyes somehow keep your gaze, even as his head feels like it’s spinning right into his headboard.

dean manages to get out his next request, in a begging whisper of a breath. he’d be ashamed if he wasn’t so desperate.

“please— please, i need—”

“its alright,” you nod before he can finish this time, leaning your head and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “i gotcha, de.”

and that’s it. you say those words and dean feels like he could cum right there. he’s already so close, just from your touch, the way your hand’s moving so beautifully up and down on his dick. the way you’re looking at him. he tries to keep his eyes open, too— to keep looking at you, but everything you’re giving him is starting to overwhelm him, he can hardly even breathe anymore.

dean glances down at your hand between both of you— big mistake, because the sight of your fingers around his dick and covered in him makes him let out strangled whimper. he bites down on his lip hard, his head falling back against the headboard and his eyes screwing shut. because it’s embarrassing how close he is to cumming in your hand.

you notice, of course— your hand doesn’t let up, but your other hand on dean’s shoulder goes to the side of his face, thumb grazing on his cheek. it’s a stark contrast to what you’re doing to his dick.

“de, its okay,” you reassure dean as his breaths become more and more unsteady, eyes flicking over his face. “you can let go if you wanna.”

and that’s it. that’s all it takes.

as soon you give him permission, dean’s gone.

his body suddenly goes rigid, then he’s bucking his hips into your hand so erratically and sloppily you would’ve been knocked from your position on dean’s lap if he hadn’t buried his face in your still clothed chest, tightened his arms fully around you and pulled you closer to him. he cums loud and hard, a mixture of soft groans, whimpers, swears and pants of your name spilling into the fabric of your shirt.

you’d never heard him like this before, ever.

but dean winchester— the man, the myth, the hunter god, was whimpering as you’re in his lap.

for you.

because of you.

and because it’s all too damn much— the way your hand feels, the touch of your thumb against his face, the look in your eyes when you said that it’s okay for him to let go of the tight rein he’s been holding onto for so long.

dean can feel himself shaking and still coming apart under you as you guide him through it, his face buried in your shoulder as you pull every last bit of pleasure out of him that he has with your fingers. he’s never felt so goddamn free before. he’s never come apart, not like this— not completely exposed like this.

dean’s hands are still shaking as they rest your waist, his entire body almost trembling with it being still so overwhelming. but it was perfect. and he needs to say that, to tell you that it was everything he’d ever wanted—

“please— please, just kiss me.”

and that comes out of dean’s mouth instead. you’d barely started to wipe your hand when the words spill out in a plea— a beg into your shirt. you’re a little surprised that was the first thing he said post-orgasm.

but still, you lean back just enough after dean says that, bringing your free hand to the side of his face while still in his lap, your gaze flicking between his in the dark of his room for just a moment before you lean back in, pressing your lips onto his again.

dean doesn’t hold back now. he doesn’t care about the mess he just made, the way he sounded, or the fact that he begged you to kiss him after you just made him cum.

he kisses you like a starved man, like the air he was breathing needed to come from your mouth and not any other source. his hands move to the back of your hips, gripping your shirt tight and pulling you even closer to him on his lap, now that your hand wasn’t between you both anymore.

dean tears his lips off of yours— and he is still just barely coming back to himself. his brain still hazy from pleasure, from you, but he tries to get out words because he needs to tell you how much he still wants, needs you. his hands grip tight on your hips, like he’s afraid you’ll just get up and leave if he lets go. his voice is still wrecked when he only manages to whisper your name again.

you don’t move out from dean’s lap, though. you stay pressed against him, his skin so warm and flushed against your own. neither of you had to say anything to know how intimate this all was. dean should be attempting to at least do something besides burying his face back in your shirt.

but you don’t let dean stay like that for too long. your hands go to the sides of his face, holding his head as you tilt it back to look up at you, searching his gaze as you continue to straddle him. and your own voice is a whisper, too.

“y’okay?”

and god, dean feels like his entire body’s just come apart again at that single word, because how do you answer a question like that.

dean has to take a breath, because he still feels the aftermath of it. everywhere. he nods, once— because he’s better than even alright. then again, because he has to tell you that, too.

“yeah,” he manages to get that out, and it’s still so damn wrecked, so out of breath. “more than okay.”

“okay, good,” your gaze softens and you nod when dean confirms that he was okay— and your other now-clean hand finds the side of his face when he looks up at you. a small smile tugs on your lips as your thumbs graze on his cheek. “just checkin’.”

dean’s blown-out eyes are still locked to yours as you brush your thumb against his skin, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of feeling you touch him like this.

it’s so tender. so soft.

and dean’s just… lost. in you.

but dean does finally manage to speak again, his voice still hoarse as his hands release from your hips start to trail down, calloused fingers rubbing gently on your exposed thighs and saying your name like a prayer. “god, i need—”

you keep dean’s gaze still— but not before glancing down to see his hands on your bare thighs in his dimly-lit bedroom as you straddle him.

dean’s hands looked like they belonged on you.

felt like it, too.

one of your own hands reaches down from dean’s face to his on your thigh, grasping on his fingers with yours.

“tell me what you need,” your voice is still a hush of a whisper, but remains completely and utterly genuine as you search dean’s gaze. “de, tell me what you need me to do, and i’ll do it.”

holy goddamn.

dean’s breath actually stutters a little at that, because you sound so ready, so willing— he can’t help but let those last three years of pining, of wanting you, of hoping show as he looks up at you.

“ride me. please.”

the words come out in a half-choked plea. dean’s so damn desperate for you, he’d beg. hell, he was begging in the darkness.

and you weren’t about to say no.

your hands take themselves off of dean’s face and hand, lifting your leg to discard your sleep shorts, then your (soaked) undies— then going to the shirt that you’d still been wearing, grabbing the hem of it and tearing it off, discarding it somewhere in his room before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

and when that finally comes off, too, dean’s entire damn body tenses. because he felt like the air had just been ripped from his lungs.

again.

he’s seeing you more exposed to him, for him than he’s ever seen you before— and the sight of you like this is goddamn perfect. you’re so perfect.

dean’s hands tighten on your thighs, his eyes taking in the view of you like a man starved.

“holy—”

there’s a thousand words he has for you right now. things like beautiful, perfect, mine. but he can’t get them out yet. because his brain is still trying to catch up from the fact that you’re actually here and naked in his lap.

both of dean’s hands reach for your hips as he’s still staring up at you in awe, his fingers gently but almost greedily gripping on you— because he wants to touch you so bad that he wants to let out a goddamn sob. because no one has ever felt like this for him.

because no one has ever come close to the way he craved you.

your eyes meet back up to dean’s green ones once again. you didn’t have to tell him anything or even say something else.

so that’s why you just nod, then reach down between you both once more, starting to fully sink yourself on dean’s dick— all while still keeping his gaze while you let your hands rest on his shoulders, a exhale escaping you both.

you not even halfway on his dick, and dean thinks he might bust again right then and there. his fingers dig into your hip, all while a groan escapes his parted lips: “ah, shit—”

and oh, he’s big. it takes you a second, but you sink down completely on top of him, your pussy sucking him all up— dean feels like he can’t breathe. again. the sight of you like this is gonna fuel his jerk off sessions for the rest of his goddamn life.

dean’s not sure if it’s possible, but he uses his hands on your hips to gently just pull you even closer against him— which ended up being a mistake, because you involuntarily clench around him. his head drops in between your tits at the action.

and.

he.

whines.

“f— fuck—”

yeah. dean just whined at the feeling of being inside of you, eyes screwed shut and everything as he buries his face deeper between your breasts— you can feel the pant of air and his lips on your skin.

dean’s fingers lace together with yours fully, holding your hand tightly while his other is still gripping tight on the meat of your hip, finally taking his face off of you to look up at you above him.

and oh. you’re a goddess, at least. not something heavenly though, because angels are dicks— but you look unreal as you look back down at dean, your mouth just a little parted from feeling him.

dean twitches a little inside you as he tries to find words, just a few, to tell you how much he wants this— or at least to tell you to move.

all he can get out, though?

“p— please.”

you don’t have to ask for clarification.

you know what dean’s asking for.

so you give it to him.

you grind your hips—and dean whines a little again at that— down onto his just once, testing the waters before you find a rhythm.

and dean feels his entire brain just go on complete and total motherfucking overdrive. because this is it. he’s finally getting the most intimate part of you, the part he’s been wanting for so damn long— he literally can’t see straight anymore. that’s how good it feels. how good you feel.

dean’s head goes in between your tits again, still holding your hand as you move your hips on top on him, grinding down on his dick. his other arm goes around your waist, pressing himself against you and gripping you tight in an attempt to steady himself— but it barely helps. his eyes screw shut again, and he’s letting out another whimper before he can stop it.

“fff— oh, fuck—”

a moan drops from your mouth, too, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds dean’s making, gasping and groaning into your skin as he fucks up into you, meeting your movements. his dick is brushing on that spot that makes you groan— and kickstarts your urge to go faster.

so you do.

dean can’t control anything right now. his hips are bucking up into you erratically, the movements only being stunted a little due to how strong your thighs were around him as you straddle him.

your hand not holding dean’s goes into his hair as you’re both pressed together for a better grip— and dean almost sees stars. he groans a little again, his breaths coming in hard pants on the skin between your breasts.

and the praise falls from your lips onto dean’s ear before you can stop it—

“you’re doin’ so good, de.”

dean feels like he’s gonna cry. just from how perfectly good you feel on top of him— and he’s making the most delicious noises that sound like words but it’s just broken moans mixed with whimpers. his hand on your hip tightens to the point it’s almost painful, but you don’t mind all that much.

“ah, don’ worry, i gotcha,” you whisper against dean’s ear again, your hand tightening on his as you let out a rough exhale, chest heaving rapidly against his as your movements don’t falter once. “you’re doing so good f’me, dean.”

dean’s not in control of the sounds that come out his damn mouth anymore— the praise goes straight to his dick, straight to the familiar burning building low in his tummy. it’s just all swearing, sounds of your name and incoherent begging being said into your skin.

“ah— shit, fuckin’— please—”

dean’s not even trying to stop the words from rushing out of his mouth right now, even if he sounds pathetic. because it all feels so goddamn good, and he’s being so good— for you.

and dean can feel nothing but you right now, in every sense possible. everything else has been long gone, and he’s been so goddamn wrapped up in how good your pussy feels around his dick.

dean gasps for air, because wants to tell you that you’ve ruined every living thing for him in the entire goddamn universe forever.

he wants to tell you that he’s about to cum— again.

“jesusfuckin’christ— oh, please—” is what comes out of him instead.

the words are barely intelligible, and dean’s whole body is starting to tense underneath you as he manages to choke out a ragged cry of your name. your hand is still gripping hard onto his own, the other burying itself deeper his hair. you needed to hold onto him right now. shit, you needed a sec.

because dean winchester was begging to cum inside of you.

you almost stop grinding down on him for a second— the keyword being almost.

you just nod against dean’s head still buried in your tits, holding him against you as you talk into his ear again.

“go ahead, baby.”

dean almost sobs again when you say that. he lets go completely just as before, his hands’ grips becoming painful on you as his whole body shakes and convulses against yours, the movements of his hips becoming so erratic once more as he’s painting your walls with his… sixth? seventh? load of the night— only this time, it’s inside of you. and he’s making every sound in the book: whimpers, groans, a whine here and there, too.

you came, too— but honestly, if you didn’t, you would’ve been fine either way. seeing and hearing dean come apart like this was enough to last you a lifetime.

you don’t know how long dean and you stay like that, pressed into each other and panting, fluids mixed together, spilling out and sticking all over your thighs— but even as you pull back just enough to look down at him, dean’s still trembling under you, long after both your orgasms had surpassed their high, melting into a thick haze between you two.

dean can’t look at you— or won’t, but either way, your hand in his hair trails to the side of his face, and you gently force him to look up at you.

dean swallows hard, and his face flushes. the embarrassment was finally, finally starting to set in now that he’d fucked you and himself out. he braces himself for the teasing, the jokes— and the look on your face.

but you weren’t looking down at dean like he was pathetic, or weak. you never did— and you sure as hell weren’t about to start now, after he’d just shown you every side you’d wanted to see of him.

no, you just smile a little, eyes flicking between dean’s as your thumb grazes on his cheek. he can’t help but lean his head into your palm as you exhale your next words out in a breath—

“that was really fuckin’ hot.”

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you now have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

heyyyyyyy guys… soooo how we doin’? LMFAOOOOOOOO this has got to be the longest i’ve ever spent on a fic (only for dean wbk!)

and i know i said this last time, but on a real note: if you have stayed to the very end— first, THANK YOU FOR READING! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write (again). i would love to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina + i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity

Sylus x Non!Mc

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

note: thank you for the love in the previous chapter 🥹

Link to Part 1

It's been a month or two since the last time you've been with Sylus. It saddens you that the time you get to spend together is cut short, only seeing each other at night when he pleases to have dinner or greet you goodnight.

You asked Luke and Kieran about what's happening, but they don't know either. They just know it has something to do with Miss Hunter, about Aether Core, about something that you have very little knowledge about. You mentally noted to search about it later.

“He is very grumpy lately,” Luke said, "He was glaring at us like he wants to skin us alive whenever me and my twin are being a little louder than normal.”

"The only one safe from his anger is Miss Hunter,” Kieran added. "I don't appreciate that Boss is playing favorites in our team.”

You tried not to let out a shaky breath. Luke noticed and he had to elbow Kieran to make him shut up.

"Sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a small smile. "It's okay. I'll try and catch Sylus one of these days. I'll talk to him.”

The twins scurry away while arguing. They think they offended you and they are passing on the blame with each other.

On normal days, it's not easy to get you offended but lately, every little thing just makes you … sensitive.

Maybe it started when you wanted that crow brooch that is neatly placed on Sylus's table …

When you asked him for it he just said, “It's for Miss Hunter,"

He took it from your hand. Albeit gently, it still weighed heavy in your heart.

You know you don't always get your way but with the little seeds of jealousy slowly growing in your heart, it's easy to feel hurt and feel neglected.

You just wanted that damn brooch and you know that he can buy another piece. Or even make you a custom-made one, one that is more inclined on your taste.

You took a deep breath.

Sylus is stressed. You know that and it's not right to add more to his burden. It's just a brooch after all.

“I-I didn't know, but when you have the time to grab one, remember me, okay?” you said.

"Next time, sweetie.” He replied and quickly went back to reading reports.

You don't know if he took your words seriously, but you have enough faith in him to trust that he did.

Or maybe the disappointment started when you wanted to go to Linkon.

There's a newly opened arcade shop that you're really itching to go.

Normally, Sylus would agree and watch you play. He's not the best when it comes to the claw machine, anyway.

So imagine your surprise when he rejected your offer. Not only that, the answer that followed chipped away at your heart little by little.

“Me and Miss Hunter already went there. It's not as fun as the other ones you've tried. You're just gonna waste your time there. Not even new plushies,” he even had the audacity to roll his eyes at that.

It seemed like he didn't think before speaking or he didn't see anything wrong with what he said.

Truthfully, there is none. The logical part of you knows he didn't say anything wrong. But for fuck's sake! Really telling your girlfriend that you went to the arcade with another woman? That's new. That's not something she expected of Sylus.

“You went with her?" you asked. You're anticipating his answer. Praying it's something logical. Something acceptable.

Please tell me it has something to do with those missions.

He looked at you, trying to see what's in your mind but you didn't show anything. Blocking any negative emotions from seeping on the cracks of your face. You tried to look as curious and as genuine as you can be.

Thankfully, he believed that.

“Yes. We went there after getting some intel around the area. She dragged me inside and she played until her heart's content. I remembered she went home with that crow plushie with a bib. She looked happy,"

You almost wanted to scoff at his face. You wanted that plushe as well, he seemed to forget about that. If it's only about the plushie maybe you can push down these negative feelings but here he is looking so endeared while saying that. As if he's not talking to his girlfriend.

Patience. Patience.

“I see. Good for her.” you said. "I also want that crow stuffed toy. Good thing to know they have them."

You tried giving him a hint. It's not like you to make anyone guess what's on your mind.

But then there's silence. And a beep on his phone. He tore his gaze away from you and your statement long forgotten.

At that point, you're holding yourself together trying not to scream and yell at him.

Maybe that's where it started. Maybe it's when you know that the distractions were not just caused by the missions but by Miss Hunter herself.

==

You sighed. It's evening and Sylus is still nowhere to be found. You texted him but you're met with silence. You wanted to call, but you hesitated. It feels like you don't have the right to do it.

Worry starts gnawing at you when Luke and Kieran hurriedly go out. They didn't even have the chance to say a proper goodbye.

Minutes kept ticking, and you heard it.

Explosions.

Your heart stopped and you wanted to run to where it was because something tells you that Sylus is there. He's in danger.

But before you can even step out of the base, Sylus's men stopped you.

“Boss’s orders to not let the Madame go out when the mission is in full swing. Please wait for him here."

You wanted to pull your hair out. You're trembling with worry but anywhere you go, someone will stop you. You can't even sneak out because that will surely trigger the alarms.

With a heavy heart you slumped on the couch.

“Fucking hell, Sylus what is happening when are you coming home!” you muttered to yourself.

You kept pacing and pacing every second seemed to last a lifetime.

Until the door opened.

And there he was, shirt torn, hair deshiveled and a few scratches on his body.

"Thank God you're alive!” you exclaimed and caught his heavy body before he lost consciousness.

"Sylus? Sylus!” you tried shaking him, but he won't wake up.

You settled him on the couch and grabbed the nearest first aid kit you can reach. Sylus might have the fastest regeneration in the world but it won't ease your worries about the small cuts that still remains on his body.

You tried suppressing your tears seeing him like this but you just can't. As you press the cotton on his cuts, you can't help but open your mouth and nag him about being careless.

“I know you think that this body is invincible, but please be careful! You need to come home to me. You have to come home to me. No matter how I'm annoyed at you right now, you don't have the rights to make me worry like this.”

“What's so important in that mission that you exhaust yourself like this? What's so important about Miss Hunter that you're willing to do such great lengths?"

You know that he can't hear you, but still you talked to him until you calmed down and ask his men to help you settle him in bed after changing him. You called the physician to check him up for anything. You kept yourself busy to shrugg of the nerves but those questions still linger in your head.

Sylus is a strategist even though he looks smug and arrogant. He carefully plans everything and tries to move in quiet only letting the results speak for themselves.

But this? This is not the usual.

Explosions everywhere and declaring a full on war with his enemies is not his style. You know that there's nothing really beneficial for him in this deal with Miss Hunter.

You managed to understand a bit about what their goals are. Getting that Aether core for Miss Hunter.

Tough mission, yes. But Sylus won't grab it if he won't benefit from it. And that's what you're left puzzled with. Sylus is a businessman, everything should be give and take.

So? What's in it for him?

==

You didn't expect the answer to voluntarily come to you. You went to his study to look for something or anything that you can help him with now that he's still unconscious when you stumbled upon a journal.

You thought it was not Sylus's. You never see him as someone who will write down his thoughts but you were dead wrong.

You opened it expecting it to be a list of things related to Onychinus, but you were greeted with phrases, sentences and some sketches about Miss Hunter.

You read each of them, it was a jumble of words. You almost thought it was a fairytale.

Past lives.

Dragon and Sorceress.

Kindred Spirits.

Energy Linkage.

Sweet Evil Trap.

All of it is too much. Too much for your poor little heart to take. And from what you understood, Miss Hunter is from his past. Someone who has a part of his soul.

Someone he waits for.

And the bitter realization although still unfounded, you concluded that maybe she's someone he still loves.

But what about you? What's your place in the grand scheme of things?

“I’m keeping you around because you’re still useful.”

Those lines ring in your ears. Sylus always say that to everyone but you. You thought that maybe you are an exception. That you're not someone disposable to him because you matter.

And as you soak up all the information that you knew, you started to doubt yourself as well.

note: aaackkk thank u for reading lemme know your thoughts! Part 3 soonest!

[5sospenguinqueen]

No Boys Club | Dad! Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris has a very public freak out when his daughter comes home with flowers from a boy.

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, overprotective dad behaviour 

Requested: yes by anon. i made them about 5 instead of 3 because the pictures i found are a bit older

F1 Masterlist

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landonorris just posted

liked by danielricciardo, alex_albon and others 

landonorris someone tell this little lady to stop growing up

189,856 comments 

carlossainz55 wait, what happened to the little baby you used to swing around the paddock? who allowed this to happen?

→ landonorris don’t get me started. i keep telling y/n to figure out how to make it stop 

georgerussell63 still have no idea how you ended up with such a cute, calm kid

→ its_yn that was all me

→ landonorris hey, i contributed 

→ maxfewtrell for like two seconds liked by its_yn

→ landonorris you take that back! 

user1 i love how every pic of little norris with y/n is really cute and serene but any time we see her with just lando, it’s chaos 

→ user2 she matches each parent’s energy perfectly 

maxverstappen1 i might need you to teach me how to do hair bows 

→ landonorris bring P over, we’ll have a hair afternoon

→ user3 i love girl dad lando so much 

→ its_yn me too 

oscarpiastri were the hair bows y/n’s choice?

→ its_yn nope. lando made a whole drawer just for her hair bows, and he picks them out the night before so i have to plan her outfits around them 

→ mclaren guess who’s telling the design team to start making hair bows asap 

its_yn posted a new story

alex_albon replied you didn’t put a bow in her hair today? → lando is going to freak → its_yn he’s too busy freaking out about his little girl getting flowers off a boy  → alex_albon i know 😂 he was in the middle of the paddock having a fit  → i’m sure you’ll see gifs of it later on twitter 

alexandrasaintmleux replied of course they were orange flowers  → its_yn setting me up for a lifetime of orange → alexandrasaintmleux at least little norris’ new boyfriend has taste  → its_yn reacted with “😂”

charles_leclerc replied has lando seen this yet? → never mind. i’ve just heard a high-pitched screech come from the mclaren garage  → i’d like to thank you for sabotaging lando in this way, so ferrari can get ahead in the constructors  → its_yn forza ferrari sempre → just don’t publicly thank me 

landonorris posted a new story

carlossainz55 replied why are you threatening children  → landonorris because they’re trying to take my baby away from me → carlossainz55 how you managed to get a woman pregnant, i will never know 

maxverstappen1 replied do you want me to help you beat up a child?  → landonorris thank you. you’re the only one understanding my crash out  → maxverstappen1 i don’t think that’s the defence you think it is 

its_yn replied baby, you can not attack a child → landonorris why not → its_yn well, for one, you’re on the other side of the world → landonorris hence why i’m learning how to teleport!  → i thought we understood each other → its_yn i thought i understood how insane you are → but every day you show me new levels of crazy 

its_yn just posted

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55 and others 

its_yn when dad’s away 

76,334 comments 

landonorris wtaf, babe

landonorris when i told you to take care of my girls, that meant keeping the both of you away from the male species 

landonorris can’t believe this is what you do when i go away for a race 

landonorris this is why i didn’t want to go 

landonorris gonna throw myself in front of max’s car

→ maxverstappen1 i’m not cleaning you off my visor  

user4 i can’t tell if it’s the style but yn’s top seems to stick out a bit 👀

→ user5 ugh. don't be one of those people

mclaren we’ve seen enough. little norris can have lando’s seat next year 

→ its_yn so i can listen to him whine about that? no thanks 

charles_leclerc i hear the italian anthem calling me

→ its_yn shhhh. we had a deal 

landonorris i’m actually going to end it all

→ its_yn i gave you a baby. what more do you want 

→ landonorris for my baby to never look at another man

→ its_yn i’m leaving you 

→ landonorris i’d like to see you try. you won’t run very far 

maxfewtrell it’s nice to see she didn’t inherit her father’s talent. she smoked me

→ landonorris is my suffering a joke to you? have i not been punished enough?

→ maxfewtrell yes

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requests open

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury  @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx

[mattscoquette]

photographer!matt loves to use you as his muse

“yeah, cmon baby, just like that,” matt encouraged as he helped the camera up to his eye, tilting the lens to focus on you. when matt asked you if you would model for him to practice his photography, you didn’t expect this.

your fingers thrusted in and out of you dripping cunt, your thumb encircling around your pussy clit while your eyes scrunched up in pleasure. your body was on full display for matt as you laid down on his bed, your clothes long gone and discarded on the floor.

“feels good, right sweetheart?” matt mused from behind the camera, hearing a little click as the flash went off.

you nodded, putting on your best show for matt as you played with your pretty pussy.

“gotta make sure my brothers don’t find this camera, huh, g’na be quite the surprise when they get this film developed,” he murmured. even though you couldn’t see his face from behind the camera, you could hear his smirk.

your fingers were beginning to grow tired from all their obscene movements, the exhaustion in your voice prevalent in your whimpers and moans.

“matty,” you drew out, “help.”

matt chuckled, snapping one last picture before pulling the camera away from his face, looking down at you with a condescending smile. “baby,” he said lowly, his voice laced with faux sympathy, “i gotta help you? who’s gonna be taking pictures of my pretty girl then?”

you whined, your hips bucking up into your hand in a desperate way to gain friction, as if to show him how needy you really were. “please, i need you.”

matt smirked, shaking his head no and holding the camera up again, continuing to take photos. “pretend it’s my fingers, baby, i know you’re close. show me how pretty you are when you’re cumming for me.”

you let out a frustrated whine, tossing your head back as you continued to toy with pussy, your fingers tracing the sensitive bud. you closed your eyes, doing as matt said and pretended they were his fingers. you tried to imagine all the ways matt liked to play with you, how his fingers curled up in just the rights spots to make you unravel.

you were so lost in your mind and movements, you had forgotten matt was even there in front of you. your breathing began to grow ragged, your moans louder and louder until the band in your tummy snapped, juices flowing out of your cunt as you came all over your hands and onto matt’s sheets below you.

“that’s a good girl,” he grinned, taking one last picture of glistening folds before turning off his camera.

© mattscoquette | taglist

[tiramissyoucake]

Self indulgent post, Mark being down bad

You were thankful you decided to stay home today, the storm was unrelenting outside as rain pattered down against surfaces like bullets, thunder and lightening exploding amidst the wind and rain. As ominous as it was, taking safety measures and remaining inside comforted you, you followed procedure, anything else is out of your hands.

A warm mug next to you as your favorite blanket draped over your legs, your laptop dimly playing videos of varying types. Everything was fully charged, your phone next to you, quiet as a mouse. You weren't going to move for a while...

A knock on the front door quickly stopped your train of thought, all appreciation dissipating.

Holding back a groan, you got up from the couch, adjusting your clothes as you made a beeline for the door— peephole be damned, who's crazy enough to be out in this weather?

Swinging the door open, you look up to a messy head of sopping wet black hair. You almost didn't recognize Mark since his hair is always out of his face. His eyes were swollen, and his lips tugged into a cross between a frown and a pout. This is the first time you've seen him since your break-up about a month ago.

"... Mark?"

"... Hi." He sounded glad, like he didn't expect you to answer. "... c-can I come in? I just- I need to talk to you, like REALLY need to."

"No." Your answer may have been cold, but your relationship ended on bad terms. "Go home, it's thundering outside."

His heart plummeted to his stomach seeing you close the door, his hand quickly reaching out as well as his foot to keep it open. "Wait— please. (Name), hear me out. Just hear me out and I'll go, I swear." His voice almost cracked as he begged you.

"Mark, it's over. I gave you back all your stuff and deleted your number, just move on—"

"I can't." He whimpered, "please, don't make me do this— I can't find anyone else like you." He sighed, unsure if it was shaky from the cold or the sob bubbling in his throat. "Don't leave me, please- just hear me out."

You grimaced, the door opening further by his hand. "(Name), you don't have to respond now, but please just... don't do this." Mark approached you, clothes soaked through his coat and hands hesitant to touch you. "I-I can't stop thinking about you, please baby—"

You looked away, wincing at the nickname. "I told you not to call me that."

"I'll call you whatever you want— fuck, (name), please—" you heard a thud, glancing back to him you found him on his knees, his arms caging around your legs. "Don't leave me, please- need you so bad.." he sniffled, a choked sob escaping him.

His rambling continued as he rubbed his cheek against your body. You're now mortified as your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself. "Mark. Get up. My neighbours will see—"

"Let them, I don't care." He huffed, the tears and sobbing returning tenfold. "Just take me back— I-I'll be good, I promise." Mark looked up at you with glossy eyes, the pink undertones of his skin now more evident from both the cold and the crying. "Please baby, lemme be your good boy again..! I'll be the best, I promise. I love you so much..!"

Your other hand landed on his head by mistake, he almost moaned at the feeling of you touching him in a way that slightly resembled affection, leaning up to your hand. "I know deep down you still love me too.." he huffed, that sentence was such a gamble.

"Let me in, let me show you how much I love you." He kissed your body wherever he could reach, causing you to yelp. "Mark!! What the hell?! I'm serious! Stop it!"

With renewed vigour, he looked up at you. "I'll stop when you let me in... please, baby.. it's so cold outside..."

[madamechrissy]

CEO Nanami

pairings- CEO Nanami x F! assistant reader

MDNI- explicit- lots of longing, masturbation hehe (m and f) some fingering, and teasingg- just more Nanami drabbles bc I love him

CEO Nanami constantly thinks about you, his pretty assistant, so bratty and just well... perfect. Driving him insane in your tight little business skirts, making him have to clear his throat and look away, blushing, trying to will his thick cock to go down.

CEO Nanami keeps it professional of course, he respects how hard you work, even if he's constantly just thinking about you on his desk, your legs spread. Even if he keeps picturing his cock pumping in and out of what he's sure is a perfect little pussy, between sexy thighs clad in black stockings destined to drive him to distraction.

CEO Nanami can't help himself from staring when you're showing him a presentation you've put together for him, smiling so pretty and smelling so sweet. He leans back in that big leather office chair, huge hands clenching and unclenching at the thought of bending you over it right now, when you look at him nervously 'Is the presentation alright Mr. Nanami?'

CEO Nanami clears his throat, smiling at you, only enhancing his cheekbones impossibly more. Making your pulse race, the sandy blond haired man sitting with his long legs spread wide does insane things to your mind, you shouldn't think this way about your boss! You will those thoughts to calm down, thinking the most wicked things about that cheetah tie, how good it would feel on your wrists. 'The presentation is wonderful' he murmurs then, so sweet as always.

CEO Nanami sees an eye full of your breasts when you bend over, blouse unbuttoned just a bit, his cock hurting, he knows he'll stroke it to you later, he always does, but it takes so much not to rub his palm over his length then and there. You smile sweetly from his praise, your own mind running as you peer at him, his green glasses firmly on the straight bridge of his nose.

CEO Nanami locks his office with a click when you leave, stroking his thick, veiny length with a muffled groan, already leaking precum from you just too close to him. He hates that he feels this way its simply unprofessional! But how can he not when you're so, so fucking pretty!? He's stroking faster, picturing being deep inside your cunt as he then hears a knock on his door, a rap rap rap.

CEO Nanami answers only after tucking his cock up into his belt, yes its that big its his only option, looking to see you now, hands itching to grab you. 'So sorry Mr. Nanami, I forgot my favorite pen!' You grab it quickly, bending over just enough to almost make him cum, before smiling again so sweetly and rushing out. Nanami rest his head on the door, sighing, just how is he supposed to not fuck his pretty assistant?

CEO Nanami doesn't realize you look at him that way because you want him, because you need him. He doesn't realize being near him alone gets you so wet you're touching your own pussy, hidden by your big desk at work, as you catch a glimpse of him from his office, resting his handsome face on his knuckles, as you circle your clit so wanton. He lowers those glasses, hazel eyes boring into yours, as you casually smile, wishing this man would make a move. But no, Nanami is a gentleman.

CEO Nanami really is not such a gentleman in his head, when there is the company dinner, and he's sipping on a whiskey neat and watching you dance with a coworker, he aches to yank you by your hair, to fuck you so good you have no chance to pay attention to these boys. Boys is what they are, as you giggle and look at him over your glass of champagne, wishing he'd ask you to dance. When Nanami does finally come up, pulling on that cheetah tie, the next words shock you.

CEO Nanami leans down, lips against your ear, murmuring - 'will you ever be a good girl?' which leads to him pressing you against a wall in one of the halls of the grand room moments later, slipping two thick digits in your slutty little cunt, his other hand pressing on your lower tummy over the sleek little dress that's covering nothing, as you cry out against your own palm. 'Couldn't wear any panties, hmm? trying to ruin me?' he demands desperately, only for you to look back, eyes dilated, your lips parted, hearing the squelching wetness of your cunt as you whisper - 'yes'

hehe- I love writing Nanami as a boss MY GOODNESS

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji  @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @cutelittlesugarfairy

[dcxdpdabbles]

In Fun and Games do they try to get Danny in trouble for a fake only to learn actually it's true? Maybe he says ‘I’m a meta!’ and act offended when they try to get him in trouble?

He then flirts harder with Batman cause ‘oh yes I know I'm breaking your rule. Will you do anything about it?’ cue coy fluttering eyelashes

They don't believe he's telling the truth, but Danny hasn't done anything with his "fake" ID. He doesn't go to bars, clubs or attempt to buy alcohol.

They also don't have proof he printed it.

The Batkids have watched him for months trying to get him in trouble with it, but really, the only thing Danny could be taken in for is driving with that license, and he....walks. everywhere. This is another reason he keeps getting kidnapped.

Danny also doesn't have a meta gene. If they were to test him for it (and they did) it doesn't show up. He's a different species one the Bats haven't encountered yet so they don't have a sample to test him against.

When they ran his DNA, the system only showed what it had in its hard drive.

Human.

Basically, they could only do something about him if they plant evidence and the Bats wouldn't. They are stuck with what they assume is a regular dizzy 19-20 year old with a heart of gold, having the misluck of always being kidnapped or something sipping for their dad.

Basically, to them, Danny is the Brucie Wayne of civilians.

[februarysmoonlight]

not today, maybe tomorrow

aka your childhood best friend (and crush) came back… different.

———

you’ve been patching up jason for a long time.

it started when you were both just kids. he’d come to you with the injuries he didn’t want to show his father, and you, who had experience in patching people up, were happy to help. mostly you were eager to spend any time with him he would give, even if that meant brutal gunshots and ugly stab wounds. you refused to admit to yourself that you had a ginormous crush on him— but you did. it was a secret that sat on your chest like an elephant: you are in love with jason todd.

then he died, and that excitement became grief. you became a nurse, fixing people up for a living because it was the only thing you were really good at. you spent years just… stuck. stuck on him, stuck in the past, stuck wishing he didn’t die.

and then jason came back, and it was just different.

the first time, he stumbled in through your apartment window, bleeding buckets from a bullet lodged in his shoulder. he failed to come to you as red hood (because you pointed a tiny little revolver at him and he was in no position to leave), so you were the first one who saw him as jason. still, he refused to say a word. not when you cried so hard your hands shook, not in the hours you spent fixing him up, not when you begged him to stay, to come back.

you didn’t see him after that for nearly six months. you were starting to think it was a dream. you had all but convinced yourself the blood on your windowsill came from your own hands, that this version of jason was a cruel manifestation of just how much you missed him.

but it happened again, and again, his visits growing more frequent as time went on. before, he only came to you when he was circling the drain. now all it takes is a deep cut in the arm for him to request aid from your gentle hands. he spoke almost exclusively in its better than it looks, and thank you’s, but at least he spoke.

you hate this arrangement. you really do. you want jason, all of him, your friend, and the boy you loved back. you want him to actually speak, talk to you like he’s your friend and not your patient. you’re tired of being woken up in the middle of the night to put a bandaid on his injuries. you’re tired of dropping everything to get nothing in return. but what’s the alternative? losing him? not when you just got him back.

not when you love him so much. so much your chest hurts when you think about what would happen if you asked for more.

but it’s draining. being jason’s on call personal doctor— no matter how much you care about him, you’re not sure how much you have left in you.

“my therapist said i need to start saying no to you. put myself first.” you say, pulling the thread through jason’s wound, sewing it closed.

“smart lady. you should listen to her.” he says, flickering his eyes up to yours.

“you wouldn’t come back if i stopped sewing you up.”

“that’s not true.”

you don’t respond to that. it’s too vulnerable, the way his eyes chase yours while you stare down at the gash on his arm, running a sewing needle back and forth through his skin. you don’t know what to think, it’s far too late and you’re far too tired to have any idea what it is you want from him.

you’re scared. scared that if you stop doing this for him you’ll lose him all over again. scared that you’re nothing more than a private medic. scared that the moment you ask for more than 2 am visits and blood stained carpets you’ll get left behind.

he sighs, pulling you out of your head just as you finish the last stitch. you cut the thread with a pair of grooming scissors, tying a small knot to keep everything in place. you look up at him, noting the frown firmly tugging at his features, and the defeated expression in his eye.

“you’re good to go.” you say, leaning back, putting your supplies back into your first aid kit, wiping the blood on your hands against the white box.

“thank you.”

he stands with a small groan, slipping back into his costume. you focus on cleaning up, refusing to look up at him as he walks back towards the window where he came, his combat boots scraping against the floor.

“i’ll come back.” he says, quietly, with his hands hooked under the windowsill.

sure you will you think, but instead you simply nod, keeping your eyes trained on the blood stains in your carpet. you know if you look back up at him the tears stinging your eyes will spill, and you’ll lose the scraps of jason you’re so determined to keep.

he sighs, pushing himself through the window, and just like that, he’s gone. just like the first time, the only confirmation you have that he is real are the droplets of blood running down your fingertips.

you wait for him to come back. one hour, one night, one week. you feel stupid, hoping so desperately he’ll come when you know he won’t. at least, not without a near-fatal wound you have to magically heal. anxiety overwhelms any thoughts of him— did you scare him off? was that moment too much for him?

you feel like such an idiot, that is, until he returns. you don’t expect it to be him when you open the door. because it’s only six p.m and he’s… at the door… and not breaking and entering through your window…

but, to your surprise, it’s him.

jason, who isn’t making eye contact and you can only assume it has something to do with how absolutely rigid his stance is. jason, who is white knuckling a bouquet of lilies with one hand and a bag of takeout from your favorite guilty pleasure restaurant with the other. you didn’t realize he remembered your favorites, not after all this time.

“ah- shit.” he says, looking up at you with those ice blue eyes. this is the first time in… you can’t even remember how long that he’s come to you just as jason, no red hood attached.

“jason?” you ask, your eyebrows knitting unconsciously together. he looks back down, mumbling something along the lines of i look like a jackass.

“i’m late.” he says, looking back up to you. you swallow down a wad of spit that resembles your overwhelming anxiety. you can feel the crush that you can never seem to kick bubbling up again, fighting to spill over the surface, as your eyes go back and forth from the flowers, the food, and him.

you nod, staring at him blankly, unsure of what to expect. he awkwardly shoves the bouquet towards you, taking a breath.

“i told you i’d come back.” he says, while you take the flowers from his hand. it’s not a cheap grocery store bouquet either, the flowers are fresh and perky, arranged professionally with baby’s breath, the stems cut carefully at an angle.

you look up at him, gently bringing the lilies to your nose. “are you hurt?” you ask, because honestly, you’re confused as to why jason would be here without a knife jammed in his back.

he grimaces, shaking his head. “no, i— fuck. i’m fine, i just— i wanted to say… look, i’m sorry.”

your eyes widen. you lower the flowers and press them against your stomach, confused and nervous and excited all at once. “…for?” you prompt, tilting your head.

he sighs, forcing the words out like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. “i’ve been a real asshole. i, uh… i should’ve been treating you better, y’know, not waking you up ‘cause i’m bleeding just enough to get to see you. not leaving you behind over and over.” he omits the part that some nights he’s less careful than others because he wants to see you so badly it hurts. “‘cause…” he starts, taking a deep breath. “i really care about you. and it took me way too long to get my head out of my ass and realize you deserve better. and a week ago, that meant getting the hell out of your life before i ruined it. today that means doing everything i can to make it up to you.”

your heart beats faster than you can bare, your eyes wide. you feel like you’re falling, your stomach doing somersaults as he speaks. just about everything you’ve wanted him to say just fell from his lips, and you don’t know what to say in return.

luckily, he’s not done.

“i brought you the food and the flowers, ‘cause i didn’t want to spring too much on you. i figured i’d wait for you to decide whether or not you hate me before i ask you out on a proper date.” he says, looking up at you.

oh.

now it’s your turn to speak. you don’t know what to say— you’re on cloud nine because the boy you’ve had a crush on for nearly a decade is asking you out. all you can do is look up at him like a complete idiot, while his expression grows more and more nervous.

“would you like to come in?” you ask, finally pushing the words out, praying you don’t sound too gleeful.

for the first time in years, you see him smile. part of its relief, that much you know, but there’s this unfamiliar look in his eye that tells you it’s much, much more. he relaxes, letting his shoulders fall back.

“lead the way.”

———

pause i just want to thank y’all SO MUCH for all the love on my previous fics. i’ve had this acc for like a week and i am so grateful for all of the notes and reblogs and people who have been so kind as to follow me !! this account really is just to force me to write and like… have hobbies so y’all interacting means so much <3 i hope you enjoyed this one !! tysm!!

[cherie-doll]

dude omg think about it, cod men and cute agression with their s/o ALSIDJKSDGH

ASDKJFK (i did not proofread this, not like i ever do but, anyways)

˚₊· ͟͟��͞➳❥ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

🝮 Price likes to surprise you by grabbing your wrist as you walk by his spot on the couch, pull you onto his lap and hold you whilst he nuzzles into your neck. It makes you squirm and laugh as you feel patches of his beard tickle your skin. Your moving around only causes him to grip your hand tighter, your laughter contagious as he smiles warmly at you, withholding his own laughter. He rarely does anything else though.

🝮 Ghost is really careful and hesitant at first, what if you're not okay with it? But when you start showing him how to show physical affection, he becomes more comfortable doing it. There won't be any indicators on his part when he's about to do it, he'll still for a moment, his fists tightening and then grabbing you suddenly, harshly almost. You feel him relax against you once he has his big, bulky, strong arms around you tight. He just really likes snatching you out of nowhere, holding you super tight against him until he lets a soft breath out. Kind of like holding a kitten close to you; it's relaxing once you feel its soft fur and forget about your problems for the day.

🝮 Soap aggressively sniffs you. Like, randomly coming up to you when you're doing mundane things such as reading, washing the dishes or just in bed scrolling on your phone. He won't just sniff in one place, no, he'll do it all over; your neck, shoulders, arms, chest, anywhere. And it makes you really confused as to why he does it when you haven't put on perfume yet so there must not be any scent to smell, right? No, somehow he can smell your "natural" scent. Whatever that means.

🝮 Gaz will run at you, tackle you, and try to hold you down while he attacks you with kisses. Quick smooches all over your face, neck, collarbone and keeps going lower and lower until you have to stop him before you turn into a puddle on the spot. Gosh, sometimes that man is too much, you swear he'll be the death of you someday. Even in a short amount of time, he can get in plenty of kisses. Ofc, you do it back at him when you catch him off guard, and it has sort of turned into a game you both play at home.

🝮 Roach will become clingy, so so clingy, so much so that he wraps all four of his limps around yours, tight like an octopus and won't let go. He's grinding his teeth because he wishes to do more but is holding back. Little noises can be heard from him as he itches to apply more pressure until he can merge into you, wishing to be closer, as if it were possible. He can't find what to do and you're just there, unable to get up from the couch. You wish to get up, to make it to the bed to sleep but he just won't let you get up. Trying to muster all your strength, you attempt to push his body off of yours but it's impossible. You sigh in defeat at having to sleep on the couch because who knows what got into your boyfriend, but you're kinda enjoying it.

🝮 Alejandro leaves bite marks. Everywhere. Will be eating next to you in the kitchen, you reach over for the salt or a napkin and next thing you know this man goes in for a bite because your arm was right there, in front of him. At this point, you're so unfazed that it barely registers anymore, it doesn't hurt because he doesn't bite down hard, he makes sure to never actually hurts you. The bite marks are barely there, unless you're going out right away you have no reason to worry over covering them. Sometimes you'll forget you even have a bite mark and someone will go "Violent toddler?" "No, loving husband".

🝮 Rudy tends to avoid trying to act upon impulsive, violet urges when his senses are overwhelmed. Will silently suffer because he doesn't want you complaining that he messed up your hair or makeup when he just wants to press kisses all over your face or bite you. So he does it but gently? Like he goes in for it but last minute he softens and you feel a set of teeth slowly sinking into your shoulder and you attempt to turn only to see Rodolfo and his soft eyes meetings yours, bashfully as if regretting it. Your reaction is worth it though, you simply laugh and tell him you don't mind since you do it all the time to him.

🝮 Phillip gets cuteness aggression even if you're not there. Weird, huh? He looks back on pictures of you on his phone, pictures that are horrid to you but endearing to him. Then he'll want to hold you so he's off to search for you, tracks you down within a minute and will pull you away from whatever you are doing to wrap his arms tightly around you and swing you around without a single word beforehand, might not even have greeted you if he had just returned home. Then, he'll set you down and lower his face to your height so you may kiss him, but if you hesitant for more than a second he'll sigh and instead kiss you all over.

🝮 Makarov gets the urge to bother you when you're mad because according to him "you look cute when you're mad". You may think he's belittling you, but he only does it if what you're upset over is considered "silly" by him. If you're seriously mad at him he will do anything to please you, seriously. But when it's over small things, he thinks it's the best time to be all up on you, not leaving you alone despite you being peeved and trying to push him away. Will poke your cheeks when they're puffed from you huffing in annoyance until he can't hold back from grabbing your face to forcefully meet his eyes. Will smush your face until you're making a pufferfish face.

🝮 Keegan will randomly just come at you, like just staring at you quiet when you're like "??" and in a swift manner will get up. It scares the living daylights out of you how fast he moves but you barely have time to react before he's bringing you down with him, tackling you onto the floor so you can't swat at him while he pinches your cheeks until they turn red. You whine and swat at him because it hurts but he just laughs meanly leaving a little kiss on top of your nose and walking away. You hate that you love that bastard.

🝮 König is the one who you dote on with climbing him and pressing a crap ton of kisses on his cheeks because you can't control yourself, but he's the tall one, he should be the one having a hard time not using his strength to pick you up and just press his face against your neck. One thing about König is that he goes absolutely feral when he can smell your scent very strongly. No, not when you're wearing perfume, he thinks the fabricated smell messes with your natural scent, he likes how you smell right when you wake up. The scent that lingers makes him want to bury his nose into your shirt or hair and smell that comforting scent.

🝮 Horangi will bite. That's what he's always so tempted to do. Will gently pinch your cheeks like two marshmallows, you laugh softly and he smiles at how cute you look, until he leans in and bites your cheek. Doesn't bite hard, just softly, enough to leave a little mark on your cheeks that goes away after a while. As for biting in other places... let's just say he's not so gentle there. Uses his height and strength to his advantage, can get pretty rough when "attacking" you, but that's just because he's overwhelmed and can barely handle it.

🝮 Nikto will have periods of time where you're both doing your own thing and then you feel the air change, the tv stopped playing. You look up to see this man staring at you and you can't tell what emotions are flickering behind those eyes by simply peering at him. It scares you at times honestly, until he grabs both sides of your face and moves your head slightly from one side to the other, like a bear and its massive paws toying with you. Leans in closer until your noses are touching and rubs aggressively. He does it until your face scrunches up and he smirks, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he lets go and you think that's it until he does it again.

[kleptokure]

Bitter Beasts ── .✦

Burning Spice Cookie, Mystic Flour Cookie, and Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader (separate)

જ⁀➴ ♡

Burning Spice Cookie ঔঌ

You, out of all cookies, are the lover of a beast! Sounds exciting, right? It would be, if only that beast had not basically bounded you to his side for eternity. Not to mention, your partner is quite the brute. As a former subordinate, you could handle Burning Spice Cookie's roughness from afar. But as his lover? Circumstances become too overbearing.

It is hard to know how you gained the attention of the Great Destroyer. You were an underling, a cookie who was loyal to Burning Spice until the end. Of course, the beast has many followers, some more faithful than you were, but that mattered not. One uneventful day turned into the opposite, and the next thing you knew, you were forbidden to stray from his sight.

Burning Spice Cookie enjoys keeping you at his side, where he can see you at all times, and you get to see his lust for carnage upfront. It is a brutal sighting, really, but he believes you knew what you were getting into the second you bowed down to him.

He never thought he would entertain an emotion such as love, but you were so enticing, pulling him in a way that he could not understand. He attempted to ignore you, as you were much weaker than him, but that fell short.

No matter your nervous refutes, Burning Spice Cookie decided to keep you for himself. He found little reason in your daily battles, so he removed those and replaced them with the opportunity of sparring him.

Burning Spice Cookie relishes the way you grow weary, as all cookies do when facing him. Your face is especially delightful, though. It merely tempts him to push you towards your limits. Is it not wonderful to be blessed with the chance of fighting him every day?

If you were to agree, then you fail to show it. Even though you have been honored with the title of his partner, you seem so distant, and that frustrates him to no extent.

Burning Spice Cookie keeps a watchful eye on you, and he notices exchanges that leave a shadow looming on his face. Specifically, your exchanges with Nutmeg Tiger Cookie.

You appear so... friendly with her. In truth, it is a normal relationship between acquaintances, but even that is enough to bother Burning Spice Cookie. How can you act in such a way towards your former general but behave so still with your lover? You should be ecstatic he chose you as his partner, yet you stay quiet.

Over time, Burning Spice Cookie becomes more observant of you. Any actions between you and Nutmeg Tiger leave him seething. He feels inclined to crumble the hybrid, yet he has abstained.

When confronted, Nutmeg Tiger Cookie is bewildered. She would never dare to take what is owned by her master. Her lord's interrogation causes her to avoid you much more, which Burning Spice Cookie is somewhat pleased with.

Even so, you are not left unpunished. You have been left bounded to his temple for an unknown period of time, either stuck in his quarters or beside Burning Spice Cookie on his throne. Around your dough, he keeps a tight grip, as if the slightest loosening would allow you to run from him.

It's safe to say you should best keep away from the spice tribes, lest you want them to meet their maker. Not like you can converse with another, much less go anywhere for that to be given a chance. The overbearing beast constantly near is sure to deny such.

"I will not hesitate to crumble the next cookie that speaks to you."

Mystic Flour Cookie ˳༄꠶

For reasons unknown, a certain beast has taken a liking to you. You might have been relieved when it was Mystic Flour Cookie, as she seems so peaceful. Would it be that hard to escape her obsession with you?

To your surprise, it was. You underestimated her pure strength. Cloud Haetae Cookie led you to believe his goddess was just as benevolent as she was in the past, but you soon faced how ugly she could get when you attempted to leave.

Mystic Flour was a sweet cookie, welcoming you in as the humble traveler you are. Somehow, you knew nothing of her origins, oblivious of her true identity, and she took advantage of that.

You were so kind, demonstrating your respect in the way you first bowed to her. She believed cookies to be selfish, as her own followers caused her suffering for their own desires.

But you? No, you were much more considerate. Also foolish, but she cherished your admiration more. It was strange to discover a cookie filled with little wishes, as even Mystic Flour Cookie displayed her own greed when she decided to take you in for her own pleasures.

You were unaware that your relationship with the beast was developing into something more until it was too late. Of course, you had other places to go, but Mystic Flour Cookie gave you no exit. As anyone else would be, you were confused. Then she spoke of her growing affection for you.

As sweet as love is, you could not accept hers. You did not envision the relationship working out since you love to explore while she remains in one region. It would be a long-distance relationship if anything.

Mystic Flour Cookie was disheartened by your response. Ever since she turned the way she is now, being told no is foreign to her. She cannot believe all of the meals she shared with you meant nothing. She refuses to accept this outcome; therefore, she will make her own.

All of your freedom is stripped from you, now locked away inside of the Ivory Pagoda. The only cookies who are allowed to see you are herself and the cloud haetae. She continues to linger around you as if nothing ever happened, and your complaints are met with silence.

No matter your immature fits, the end result will persist. The beast knows you'll gradually adapt to your new life.

Throughout the process, Mystic Flour Cookie has found a fact to be displeasing. Cloud Haetae Cookie, her most devoted follower, is seen around you plenty. He is the one to retrieve you when his lord needs you, yes, but outside of those times, you are alongside him instead of her.

Gaining a snoopy trait, Mystic Flour Cookie finds out the reason why. In some way, Cloud Haetae Cookie has become a form of comfort for you. When he shifts into his haetae form, you bring him into a big cuddle.

Without a doubt, Mystic Flour Cookie is upset. She almost feels childish for her emotions when she knows you will come her way soon, but still. You choose to snuggle her devotee rather than her? How offensive.

Rather than pointing it out, the apathetic cookie subtly hints towards her bitterness when conversing with her pet. Cloud Haetae Cookie knows what to infer and expresses sorrow for what he unknowingly caused.

Unfortunately, that means your consolation prize separates themselves from you. Oh, but worry not. If you are in need of a warm embrace, then your lover is right beside you. She will not be going anywhere else anytime soon.

"Escaping is futile. All you require is here. With me."

Shadow Milk Cookie ⋆.˚𖦹⋆

A special jester has decided to entertain you forever! It comes off as nice, as you would never be bored for another second of your life. Well, reality differs from that. Some jokes are not exactly jokes, and you found that out the hard way.

Your current situation is bad enough, but your regret worsens when you know you could have avoided this entirely. If only you had not strayed from your friends. Instead, you chose to abandon the inn they took place in, too eager to advance further up the path.

In hindsight, skipping straight into a beast's territory is a dumb idea, but you had the audacity, like Gingerbrave did. Though, you did not live up to it.

You found yourself trapped in the loops of the spire, and you were on the brink of death when encountering one enemy after another. To your rescue, Shadow Milk Cookie took the time out of his day to come see what all the ruckus was about.

That marks the moment he locked eyes with you, a cookie all alone and obviously not his main target. Nonetheless, he plucked you from where you stood and took you elsewhere. Shadow Milk Cookie does not usually give one mercy, but something about you led him to do so. Perhaps it was the fight in your tone, even after appearing so pitiful.

Ever since then, you have kept a part in his group of liars. Or that is what you say to comfort yourself from the fact that the beast clearly favors you. You expected a brutal crumbling and assumed all of his teasing remarks along the way were to make things worse.

Yet you soon realized that your death was far from approaching. Shadow Milk Cookie seems to approve of keeping you. To enhance your experience at the tower, he tends to call you pet names that you feel inclined to brush off. It is hard to ignore them now, when it is clear he does not keep the same trait for his other assistants.

Shadow Milk Cookie refuses to explicitly state your relationship status, despite your constant pestering of the question. Why would he tell you what he wants with you? Seeing you in distress is much more entertaining, even though he knows very well that he has a little crush on you, and maybe revealing such would be better.

If you ceased your inquiries, it would not be difficult to guess your awaited answer. You have a personal room that he has formed, but it shifted into a shared one. He barges into your space too often to consider it your own.

The primary factor: Shadow Milk possesses a trait of being touchy. Overly so. Always his hand on your own or his arms wrapped around you. It would be appropriate to call you both one being at this point.

Regardless of all the hints of pure love that Shadow Milk Cookie has given you, you show no signs of reciprocation, which is clear enough to bug anyone. Do you not know it hurts to be rejected by the one you love? Why are you so stubborn? Stop fighting this.

To worsen matters for him, you save your attention for his admirers. He had caught you in the act, watching over another petty fight caused by Candy Apple Cookie that she inflicted on Black Sapphire. Your unlabeled lover does not see what you find so enjoyable in those two. Why hang around his underlings? Are they funny? Well, most of their tricks are learned from him! What is the point in staying around those newbies when he is right here?

Shadow Milk Cookie is jealous of few things, and the truth of Candy Apple and Black Sapphire contributing to those few things really ticks him off. And it is all over some cookie he willingly took in. You were not supposed to awaken such ugly emotions in him. You were planned to be a mere puppet, not his new fixation.

When confronted by the dramatic cookie, Black Sapphire Cookie was apologetic but also knowing. He did not expect his master to gain a romantic interest, but Shadow Milk Cookie is full of surprises. With that said, Black Sapphire is sure to stray from your path.

Candy Apple Cookie was mainly focused on showing her remorse for her actions. Her ally had to explain the truth behind their lord's questioning to her. All you need to understand is that you acquired a new rival.

You were hoping for salvation, but that all came to a pause when your one savior turned reclusive. It does not look like your state of affairs will be turning up for you anytime soon.

Shadow Milk Cookie enjoys the way the glimmer of hope in your eyes die. It would be best for you, and him, to accept the way things are. But hold no fear; he can be a very caring lover when he wants to be. Just behave to his liking, ok?

"Awwh, what's wrong, sweetie? Wanna go home? Well, too bad!"

જ⁀➴ ♡

[dollbrbie]

Rin itoshi with a reader who's the complete opposite to him !! ♡

rin itoshi ʚ ɞ polar opposites

note. i loveeee this request, i can totally see rin having a gf who’s the complete opposite of him

when you and rin (mainly you) decided to hard launch your relationship, everyone around you was… confused.

it couldn’t have been helped really. i mean, you had basically nothing in common with rin. you were sweet, friendly, outgoing and just so carefree. and rin was well… just rin. he’s moody, way too serious and has absolutely no social skills for the life of him. it’s a wonder in itself that he even managed to get a girlfriend, let alone a girl like you.

you two just didn’t make any sense.

but, they never saw the way rin would listen to you so intently when you babbled on about your girly interests, the ones that are the polar opposite of his and that he doesn’t always seem to fully understand despite trying his hardest.

they never saw the way his moodiness would completely disappear the moment he heard your pretty voice from your lips, any anger or frustration in his heart gone and a small, content smile making way onto his face.

they never saw the way he became less guarded and snappy with his teammates, actually giving a damn about what they might have to say and knowing he can rely on them. because you taught him what no one else bothered to.

and they never saw the way he continuously tried to be more open and outgoing whenever you introduced him to your family or friends, not wanting to disappoint the people you love, the people his future wife loves.

he’ll probably never understand or get behind how carefree you are, but the thing about rin is he tries so hard when it comes to you because he knows he’s nothing like you and that your family and friends question your relationship.

it bothers him a lot, actually. he wants to be liked. he wants to be welcomed and approved of.

and while you’ll never necessarily change rin (like you’d ever want to anyway) he’s still the most determined man you’ve ever met and he’ll stop at nothing to win your loved ones over one way or another, showing them that actually, you both make the most perfect sense.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work