#something about the hand he’s chewing on makes me question

[vaginalvr]

I saw how many works you have and actually screamed btw. I know I’ll be reading (and rereading) all of them tonight.

Can I request something like sub!spencer AND sub!reader together? Like maybe it’s their first time having sex with eachother and one of them, I don’t mind who, tries to be the dom at first but they just end up slipping into being submissive. Whiny needy sex is my soft spot‼️

this is so pathetic I love it

cw: mutual shyness, first time, sub x sub dynamic, praise kink, soft dom moments (from both), lots of asking and consent, mutual oral (m. & f. receiving), slow and tender, cuddly sex, emotional intimacy, very gentle smut

REQUESTS OPEN!

You weren’t sure how it started.

A brush of his hand on your knee during movie night. The way he looked at you when you laughed at something stupid. How close he leaned when he asked you a question, eyes searching yours like you might disappear if he blinked too fast.

You’d been dancing around each other for months — gentle touches, too-long hugs, soft confessions over wine and dim lighting — but tonight, something was different. You could feel it. The way Spencer’s eyes lingered on your mouth. How his voice kept catching, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

And when your fingers brushed his on the couch, and you didn’t pull away?

He laced them with yours.

You both just… sat there, staring at each other, hearts thudding, faces warm.

“Spence,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“…Have you ever…?” You trailed off, chewing your lip.

He flushed. “Not with someone I—care about. Not like this.”

You swallowed. “Me either.”

There was a pause.

And then: “Do you want to?”

Spencer’s breath hitched. He nodded. “But I don’t really—know what to do. Or, I mean—I do, anatomically, but not like—how to… start.”

You laughed gently. “Me either.”

His smile was small, nervous, utterly precious. “Okay. Then maybe we… just figure it out? Together?”

You nodded.

He kissed you slow. Sweet.

Careful, like he was afraid to break you.

Your hands trembled as they curled into his shirt. His touched your face like you were made of glass.

By the time you reached the bed, you were both breathless, wide-eyed, and so clearly out of your depth — but so ready to fall into each other anyway.

“Can I—can I take your shirt off?” he asked, voice soft, hands hovering.

You nodded, lifting your arms. “Can I… see you too?”

He flushed. “Y-yeah.”

Layer by layer, you undressed each other like unwrapping a gift you weren’t sure you deserved. When he saw you fully naked, Spencer made a sound — soft and reverent, like awe.

“You’re…” He swallowed. “You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled, cupping his jaw. “You are too.”

His laugh was self-conscious. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I want to.”

Spencer laid you down gently, trembling hands gliding over your bare thighs. His eyes flicked to your face with every movement, asking silent permission again and again. You nodded every time.

When his mouth lowered between your legs, he asked first.

“Can I taste you?”

Your breath caught. “Yes. Please.”

And God — he was so careful.

Spencer kissed your thighs first, nosed at your skin, then flattened his tongue against you with a soft hum that nearly made your back arch. He moaned when he felt how wet you already were, like he couldn’t believe it.

“You’re… fuck, you’re soaked already,” he whispered, flushed and shy. “Am I doing okay?”

You nodded frantically. “More than okay.”

He kept going — slowly, gently, just like you needed — and only stopped when your thighs were shaking around his ears and your moans turned to soft cries of his name.

After, he looked up at you, his lips wet and pink. “Did that feel good?”

You giggled and pulled him up to kiss you. “Come here and find out.”

You wanted to make him feel just as good — so you kissed your way down his stomach, hands trembling, cheeks warm.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you murmured.

“I won’t want you to,” he whispered, voice cracking. “But I will.”

He gasped when you took him into your mouth — not deep, not fast, just enough to let him feel your warmth, your care. His fingers tangled in the sheets, not daring to touch you unless you asked.

You pulled off with a soft pop, kissing the inside of his thigh. “Ready for more?”

His whole body shook as he nodded.

When you finally slid onto him, inch by inch, your foreheads pressed together, mouths gasping against each other’s skin — neither of you moved at first.

Just breathing. Shaking. Getting used to the closeness.

“Okay?” you asked, brushing his hair from his face.

He nodded, eyes glossy. “I think I’ve wanted this forever.”

You rocked your hips. He moaned. His hands gripped your waist, like he didn’t know what else to do.

You moved together like a shared heartbeat — slow, nervous, reverent. Every thrust was a whispered promise. Every kiss a reassurance.

He kept mumbling praise — “So good, so warm, you feel amazing” — and when you finally came, it was with his name on your lips and tears in your eyes.

Spencer followed with a soft, broken cry, burying his face in your shoulder like the world might fall apart if he didn’t hold on to you.

After, you curled together under the blankets, legs tangled, breaths finally slowing.

“Was that… okay?” he whispered.

You laughed, snuggling into his chest. “It was perfect.”

He kissed your temple. “Let’s never be scared to ask for what we want again.”

You smiled.

“Deal.”

[paulyenvol6]

No Worries In The World

Harry Castillo x f!reader

So I know the context of the kiss in the new trailer is totally different, but the way his lips crash against hers just did something to my brain and I had to write it as if they were in an argument. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, dirty talk, Harry and reader being down bad for each other, nicknames like princess and baby, some fighting in the beginning, angst, flluff, sweetness, talking of children, jealousy, possessiveness

Wordcount: 4,730

Masterlist

"Oh come on, you're not even gonna say anything about it?"

"What am I supposed to say? I told you already – "

"You told me nothing, Harry. What, did you not want me to find out about it?"

He sighed and god how you hated that sigh. It sounded like he was disappointed in you although he was the one that – "I didn't hide anything from you. I just didn't think it was necessary to mention it because it meant nothing to me. I forgot about it the second it happened."

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the corridor wall as the blood pounded in your ears, rumbling so loudly that you could barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. Tears were burning in your eyes and you wanted to blink them away so badly, not showing him how much he had hurt you, but at the same time, what did it matter? Perhaps you should just show him and make him feel awful.

"Why the fuck did you do it then? You could've waited 10 minutes and we could've danced. I – I just don't fucking get it."

Harry ran a hand through his curls and then approached you, his hands reaching for yours but you refused and lightly pushed against his knuckles to spare yourself the pain of his close presence.

"Baby," he said, waiting for you to give him your attention, but you were focused on fumbling with his hands so he would let go of you.

"Baby," he said again, louder this time and firmly squeezed your hand so you had no choice but to accept your fate and flash your eyes at him, showing your anger in a different way.

"I love you," he whispered which involuntarily made your heart flutter, but no, you wouldn't just let it slide because he happened to have such a pretty pair of brown puppy eyes and looked especially handsome in his suit tonight.

"You didn't answer my fucking question," you hissed, moving your hands that were still clasped in his until he eventually let go and sighed out as he took a step back.

"Jesus… I don't know. I don't know, she's an old friend and we talked for a bit and I liked the song that was playing so I asked her if she wanted to dance. As I said, we're old friends. Nothing more."

You angrily chewed on your bottom lip and although you wanted nothing more than to be hugged by him and forget this whole stupid thing, you just couldn't. You were hurt, and you knew that if you just pretended nothing had happened, you would go to sleep and wake up tomorrow with a bitter taste in your mouth, and this thing would haunt you until it finally caught up with you, eating you alive and making the inevitable fight even worse.

"We fucking met this way, Harry," you pressed through clenched teeth, pushing against his chest while you felt a single tear run down your cheek.

"Did you think for a second that it might hurt me to see you dance with a woman exactly the way we did six months ago? I thought that – that… I don't know that it was our fucking thing."

Your eyes painfully burned watching Harry rub over the lower half of his face, cursing something that you couldn't understand and then he straightened up, his jaw tense and his chest heavily rising.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you. We were dancing. I'm not going to stop dancing with any woman for the rest of my life because we met this way. I'm sorry that it hurt you and I don't know how many times you want me to say it, but it meant nothing to me."

You tilted your head and swallowed as you defiantly raised your chin and then hugged your own body with your arms.

"Then I think you're insensitive."

"What?" he scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he put his hands on his hips.

"Yes. I'm asking you of something because it's fucking important to me and it wouldn't be a big deal for you to do me the favor."

You refused to let him doubt your statement, your head held high and your posture straight as you watched Harry sigh again, his nostrils flaring before he took a step towards you and suddenly pressed his lips to yours. It was messy and passionate, aggressive almost, but so heated that you kissed him back without thinking too much about it. He gently pressed you against the wall, his hands firm on your waist and a knee between your legs so you could rock your core against him while he devoured your mouth like it was the last time he could. And somehow your mind went blank. Somehow you were able to put all of your frustration and anger in the kiss.

He pressed his lips to yours with such force that his nose rubbed against yours, wrinkling and creasing as he seemed to be trying to reduce the distance between you until you melted together.

"Harry," you breathed, your hands at his shoulders. You tried to pull down his jacket, but by now your hands were shaking so you had problems gripping the fabric properly which evoked a quiet chuckle in him.

"Need my help?" he whispered, smirking as you stubbornly shook your head and eventually succeeded.

His jacket fell on the floor and was soon joined by your coat that Harry peeled off you with quick and skillfull hands. His lips were still on yours, the sound of teeth clashing agains teeth echoing against the high ceiling, the air around you thick with tension and you almost felt drunk on him. Drunk on his aftershave, on his familiar scent, his presence.

He rolled the fabric of your tight black dress between fingers, giving you a painful pre-taste of what was going to come, but you needed so much more. No thought was flickering behind your forehead, no urge to finally work out your conflict. Perhaps there was a part of you left that felt stubborn and defiant, your hands on his shoulders just a little bit rougher than usual, but you didn't care about talking anymore. What you wanted was to talk this through with your actions and his touch on your body.

Harry's wishes didn't seem to fully align with yours, as you soon figured. He made no attempt of stopping, but he didn't shut up neither.

"S'what you need, huh? Needed me to push you up against the wall to be satisfied, isn't that right?"

You moaned, but it sounded more like a cry and felt your eyelids flatter as he traveled down your chin and your neck until his hot breath lingered at your collarbone. You buried your hands in his hair, gently tucking, but Harry paid no attention to where you wanted him anyway. His touch was more determined than usual, more clear in what he wanted. Uncompromising, but you didn't mind at all.

"Tell me, baby," he whispered and moved his hands up until they were right below your breasts, lightly - like it was a test - brushing over the swell. "Tell me that you wanted this."

Your grip in his hair tightened, your head dropping back so it was comfortably resting against the wall and you could let Harry take full control.

"I… I fucking wanted this…," you said under breath, your voice higher than normal.

"Yeah? I just haven't given my princess enough attention, have I?"

He gently nibbled at your skin which sent shockwaves through your body and as time went by, your hold on your own feet progressively worsened, your knees weak and wobbly as Harry left wet kisses on your cleavage.

"Yes. I just… I missed you."

His next kiss was tender. It was a response to your complaint and you moaned in satisfaction when you felt his mouth trail a line up your neck until he stopped at your mouth again. Harry softly sucked in your bottom lip, creating divine pressure and goddamnit, he was just so good at it. Making you feel valuable and sexy and… seen.

Maybe that was the reason why seeing him dance with her had hurt you so much. He was always showering you with love and affection, his eyes on you at all times even if you were with a big group of people and now, if he didn't pay attention for a mere second you already felt neglected because it was such a grave contrast to his usual behavior.

"I'm sorry, princess," he murmured against your lip, causing you to whine in relief. "I know it's on me. I know it's 'cause I have to show my princess how much I love her all the time. Have to show her that she's the only one I care about 'cause otherwise she'd be sad."

He cupped your face, gently caressing the area under your eye.

"And I can't make my pretty girl sad."

Perhaps his words would have sounded mocking to anyone else, but a glance at his face told you how much he meant them. It told you that he was truly sorry for neglecting you and making you suffer, even if it was just a single tear you had shed.

"Fuck me," you breathed, becoming aware of the effect of your words when Harry's jaw clenched and his eyes flashed with sheer hunger.

"Yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes. Fuck me hard."

Before you could utter the last syllable, you shrieked as Harry grabbed your hips and lifted you into the air, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"Whatever my princess wants…," he whispered in the curve of your neck and then proceeded with covering every inch of skin he could reach with kisses.

You chuckled and giggled, your heels digging into his back as he carried you to his familiar bedroom where he carefully tossed you onto the bed and opened the first buttons of his shirt while you made yourself comfortable on your back. The silky fabric of the pillows felt cool and soft against your smoking head, and you felt that cosy, bubbling warmth in your belly that always appeared when you thought of all the magical things he was going to do to you.

"Don't move an inch," Harry whispered while carelessly throwing his shirt behind him and then moved to the edge of the bed, kneeling on it with one knee and giving you this mischievous, yet soft smile.

"You look so pretty like this, babygirl."

You shrieked in surprise when he grabbed your ankles and pulled you a little towards the edge of the bed, then climbed onto the bed and hovered over you with one knee between your legs. You giggled and writhed, your body screaming for him and your insides dancing with joy as you not only had a perfect view of his toned chest, but felt the anticipation crashing over you like a magnificent wave ready to swallow you whole.

"I need you," you breathed and put your hands on his shoulders.

"And I need you." He leaned in to kiss you and while you were still getting used to the weight with which his lips crashed against yours, he was already fumbling with the zip of your dress at your back, pulling it down painfully slowly and making you whine in frustration, yearning for a cooling brush of cold air across your body that seemed to be in flames just by his mere presence.

Eventually he redeemed you though and pulled your black dress over your shoulder and then down your body, his hands not shy to follow a trail down your front until the piece of clothing was gathered up around your knees. Now that he had access to more skin he drew backwards, releasing your lips with a plop and took in your bare front that wasn't covered by a bra which caused Harry to hum in satisfaction.

"You're a dream. My perfect princess," he whispered, his eyes cloudy as he seemed to be mesmerized by the sight.

"Should've never even just looked at anyone else at the party. You're the only one I care about anyway."

He pressed wet kisses on the swell of your breasts and each felt like a promise. His beard created delicious friction against your sensitive skin and soon your breathing went in hitches, your heart rapidly pounding in your chest and your mouth agape as you bent your neck to stare down to him.

Now his lips were around your nipples, tracing the outline with the top of his tongue and knowing how much you liked it, he occasionally carefully took them between his teeth until you squirmed away and he released them with a wet noise. But he always made sure not to neglect your other breast that wasn't taken care of by his mouth; when his tongue worked on your left breast, his hand kneaded and toyed with the right so that you were soon overwhelmed with sharp and sweet pleasure, sometimes bordering on pain in the best way possible.

"Harry," you whispered, your hands in his hair and your legs closing around his broad torso. "Please, Harry… fuck, I need more."

He gently nibbled at your skin, careful, so it wouldn't sting too badly, but with enough force so it might leave a mark.

"Where do you need it, huh? Is your sweet little pussy aching for me? Does she need me to take care of 'er?"

You threw your head to the side, your body buckling when Harry pressed his knee against your center with more intensity so that you felt pressure on your clit.

"Yes. Yes, I need it," you panted and gasped when he slipped a hand between your legs, cupping your pussy and rubbing his palm against your throbbing clit through the fabric of your panties. In the force and eagerness with which he had done it, you sensed that he was struggling to hold back himself, his grip on your pussy firm like he didn't just want to make you feel good, but claim you and that very part of your body.

"Mhmm… There you go. Let me hear you, princess. Let me hear how good it feels."

A croaked moan left your throat and you closed your legs around his wrist as if you wanted to trap his hand between your thighs.

"Please. Please, feels so good, Harry."

Your underwear was soaked and you could hear it in the damp sound his skin made against your wet panties, but Harry was soon to comment on it anyway.

"You're soaked, princess. You need it that badly?" he whispered against your earlobe, his left hand coming up to cradle your face while you struggled to bring out an intelligent sentence.

"Yes. I really want you, Harry, please…"

Your lips formed a pout as you arched on the bed, pressing yourself against his broad body and wrapping a possessive arm around his neck.

"You're mine," you whimpered and although it didn't sound very dominant with your quiet and weak voice, you had meant every part of it. In response your boyfriend lowly chuckled and leaned in to capture your lips in a deep but slow kiss.

"Someone's gotten a little jealous tonight, right? I didn't know this side of you, baby."

He pulled away to caress the corner of your mouth where a small drop of drool leaked out and you bit your lips, your eyes flashing and your chest heaving rapidly under his play on your pussy.

"You're mine. No one else's. I want you to show me."

Harry's lips twisted and he lovingly brushed your hair back until his hand came to a stop on your temple.

"You want me to show me that I'm yours, babygirl?"

"Yes," you moaned and gently tucked on some of his strands of baby hair in the back of his neck.

Harry gave you a wry grin and then, faster than you could react, you were on your stomach, letting out a loud gasp. You felt two large hands lift your hips until you were forced to support yourself on your hands and knees, your dimples protruding as you turned your head to look over your shoulder and meet Harry's gaze.

He was on his knees as well, and now gently slapped your bottom before running the palm of his hand over the area that was beginning to redden.

"You look so goddamn pretty like this. What am I even saying, you always look pretty, and I still can't believe I'm that lucky…," Harry whispered, running a hand from the crease of your ass up your back to your neck where he gently combed through your hair.

He looked almost dreamy as he watched your back and then snapped back to reality. He pulled your underwear down with swift and trained hands until the fabric was around your knees, following your dress, and then parted your knees and stepped closer to you, the fabric of his pants creating a cool contrast to your heated skin.

Another slap landed on your ass and you let out a whimper, your body jerking forward while Harry already comforted you and then you finally heard the clank of his belt and you knew it was a matter of seconds now until you would finally be filled by him. You bit your lips, staring ahead of you in anticipation and then almost whined in relief as he ran his tip through your folds, smearing your wetness all over your dripping cunt and sighing when you arched your back.

"Jesus… honey…. You don't know what you're doing to me…"

"Please Harry. Please, I need it so badly."

Your hands closed around the bedsheets when you felt his tip circling your entrance, your whole body tense and ready to take him in if only he would finally give it to you –

"Fuck!"

Your head dropped, your forehead hitting the mattress and your nerves prickling as your body adjusted to his length. Harry was far from being small and although you were more than wet and he had fucked you more times than you could count, there was a slight stretch every time, especially when he entered you in one go. You focused on your breathing, your pulse loud in every part of your body and then you turned your head as Harry ran a hand over your shoulder blades.

"Are you alright, princess? Need a moment? Or do you want me to pull out and prepare you with my fingers?"

Tears welled in your eyes only that it wasn't from the pain, but his sweet words, the fact that you knew you could always rely on him and that he would always take care of you. God, how you loved him.

"No. You can move, I'm fine," you answered and prepared yourself to feel his thick cock moving inside of you, but you frowned as it still didn't happen. Instead Harry caressed the curve of your ass, his fingers drawing tight circles on top of your skin.

"Gonna give you a moment just in case, okay? Sorry, maybe I went a little too harsh and should've made you cum on my fingers first."

Without turning your head you shook it and blindly reached behind you for his hand or his wrist or in fact any body part of his. You heard him laugh, a deep and low sound and then he grabbed your hand and squeezed it before he carefully pulled himself out of you. You regretted it immediately, your knees shaking as you wanted nothing more than to feel every single vein of his cock and fortunately Harry didn't hesitate when he thrusted back in although he was much slower this time.

"Oh fuck," you hissed nevertheless, your fingers clenching around the sheets and so did your pussy when you felt Harry's tight grip on your hip.

"Fucking christ… You feel perfect. You're perfect. So good to me, princess, fuck…"

He now started to fuck you at a steady pace, his hips and balls slapping against you with each thrust, while his hand on your hip made sure to pull you back to him. Soon his free hand moved from your ass up to your head to draw your hair into a makeshift ponytail and to use it as leverage while he picked up the pace.

"Nghhh fuck, Harry," you whimpered and shut your eyes as he repeatedly hit your cervix with his huge cock.

Your reactions were music to his ears and to enhance them and elicit more of your sweet noises, he glided a hand between your legs to rub your clit that was stiff and swollen, throbbing as it had awaited the rough pat of Harry's finger.

"Yeah there you go… My sweet princess only deserves the best, doesn't she? Wanna make you cum all over me until you believe me when I say that I'm yours and I only wanna dance with you at any party. You hear me, honey?"

He lightly tucked at your ponytail, his teeth gritting as he bent his back to come closer to your ear.

"I love you and I don't want you to ever worry about that again. I don't want you to have a single worry in the world."

You loudly moaned and that was the moment your arms gave away and you dropped head first on the bed. Harry scoffed and stroked the back of your head before flipping you onto your back again, your eyes popping open as he did so.

"It's alright, I got you," Harry whispered as he adjusted your body.

He parted your legs again and removed the sweaty hair out of your face before slamming back into your exhausted body, his thumb on your clit again after you had rolled your hips in a desperate attempt to fight the pulsing tension in your pussy.

"You wanna cum for me? Wanna make me real happy?"

"Yes," you replied, your legs spread wide for him and your hands in his neck again to toy with his hair.

"Please," you murmured, pulling him closer to you until you sighed in enjoyment feeling his lips on your chin. "I wanna cum so badly. But I wanna cum with you. Please. Need it inside."

Harry's eyes darted up to you, a suspicious and concerned sparkle in them, but there was also something excited and disbelieving.

"I don't know if we should…," he whispered, watching you precisely to judge whether you were too fucked out to act responsibly, but not slowing down either.

"Please, Harry. Give it to me, I… Maybe I wanna… Why not take the risk, it wouldn't be the worst thing, right?"

His teeth sank down on his lower lip, blind and profane desire clouding his mind, but he had to act rationally now.

"Picture me carrying your child, honey," you whispered and took his face in your hands while panting heavily at the tight circles he drew over your clit.

"Picture me all round with your child. Your child, Harry. Wouldn't you like that? You would be reminded that I'm yours every moment of your life 'cause I'd be living proof that you knocked me up. That you fucked me hard and deep and everyone would see it. Everyone would know that I'm yours."

Fuck it. The thought flickered behind Harry's forehead for brief second and while you were still pleadingly glaring up to him, he had already made his choice. Maybe he was just way too fucked out to act responsibly too, but what did it matter now? The thought of filling you up and getting you pregnant, his cum so deep inside your perfect warm pussy that would suck his seed in, your belly round with his child...

He let out an animalistic growl and then came so hard, it knocked all the air out of his lungs and made his head spin. Harry could only hear your own squeal from a distance, white lights dancing across his vision as ropes of cum spurted from the tip, filling you to the brim. He grunted again, sweat pooling on his forehead that was slowly running down his temple and then he looked down at you, who was just coming down from the aftermath of your high.

"Harry," you whimpered and rested your brow against his broad shoulder.

"I know, princess," he panted, his hand reaching behind your head to cradle it, but he couldn't hold himself up on his elbows much longer and gently lay you down while burying his face in the soft skin beneath your ear.

"Oh jesus… You're so amazing," he praised you and ran a hand up and down your arm to calm your rapid panting.

"You did so wonderful. So, so perfect, my beautiful princess."

Your hands grasped at his bicep, your body completely flat and powerless under his weight as the two of you slowly began to realise the possible consequences of your actions. Had the two of you been careless? Had it been stupid? Harry didn't feel that way, but he had to check in to see whether you felt the same.

"So…," he started once he had lifted his head again and now drew soothing patterns over your cheek with his thumb.

"Were you serious with what you just said?" he asked, a little smile lingering on his lips that you were happy to return.

"Yeah. I mean I think so, I don't regret it right now. Do you?"

"No I don't," he truthfully answered and propped himself on his knee so he wouldn't crash you beneath the weight of his body.

"But I mean, if you change your mind, I can go to the pharmacy and get the morning after pill, all you have to do is say the word, baby."

You chuckled and connected your hand with the side of his face.

"I don't think I will. If that's what you want too."

"It's what I want. I love you and I love this between us. And I think these are the best conditions to have a child, right?"

Your heart was pounding in your chest, making you feel like you had just run a marathon. But Harry wasn't done yet.

"And I wanna see you happy. I don't know, princess, but I think it's become my life's obsession. Making you happy and giving you anything you want. I wasn't kidding when I said I don't want you to have a single worry in the world. It's all I want and it's all I'm ever gonna want. Making you happy and making you smile and loving you."

His voice was so incredibly low, but it was enough. It was enough to make the butterflies in your stomach do somersaults, enough to make you feel as if you were drunk with love, and to make your pulse race into infinity.

"I love you, Harry," you answered and although you felt that you had to say more and express how much you loved and appreciated and needed him in every detail, Harry already seemed content with your answer. Maybe it was better that way because you believed once you started telling him you wouldn't be able to stop.

He kissed the corner of your mouth sloppily, both of you too exhausted and tired to seal your confessions with a deep kiss, but it didn't matter. You understood each other blindly and giggled as Harry crawled off you and lay down next to you.

He instantly reached for you and you were happy to snuggle up against his side, his arms sliding around your back to hold you close while you rested your head on his chest. That way you could listen to his steady heartbeat, your eyes closing as the purest form of contentment and happiness flooded your system.

"I love you," you whispered again, already close to drifting off to sleep, but you still heard his answer.

"And I love you, princess. So, so much."

[usagi-chwan]

Single life is no longer for me (BSDxReader)

🌸 Characters in this chapter: Oda, Fukuzawa, Chuuya, Dazai (Mafia) and Dazai (Agency).

🌸 Knowing Dazai's past is preferable to read the first part dedicated to him, and the same goes for Fukuzawa (although, for this one, the moment when the spoilers begin are indicated inside his part). Otherwise, there are no spoilers! Oh yes, one last little thing: remember who Sasaki is, it will come in handy for the second part on Dazai :)

This chapter is a request from... Me. 😂

The speech of this chapter is in one sentence: how their loved ones learn they are in a relationship. And yes, once again I have written two separate parts for Dazai... (A fangirl thing, some will understand :)). Happy reading!

Oda

- The revelation comes completely by accident, during an evening at the Lupin with his two drinking buddies.

- Oda has simply left his phone on the counter on his way to the bathroom, during which brief moment you decided to call your boyfriend. And, unlucky for you, a curious little nose with bandages on it could not resist glancing at the screen to see who could be calling his friend at such an hour.

- Oda had no intention of hiding your relationship from his friends, whom he trusts more than anyone; he just never had the chance to tell them, in the course of their many conversations. In short, he was not asked the right questions. 

- When Oda returns from the bathroom, Dazai immediately asks him who this mysterious caller is, mentioning your name that appeared on Oda's phone screen; and, although he does his best to appear disinterested, Ango is also curious about this person's identity.

- Oda replies naturally, without his expression changing for a second, that it is his boyfriend/girlfriend, while quietly leaving the bar for a moment, just long enough to call you back and make sure everything's all right. 

- Without suspecting for a moment that he has left his two friends speechless, round-eyed and practically with their mouths wide open.

- If they had expected such a revelation... And especially in such a detached tone. But typical Oda, after all!

~

Fukuzawa

- Ranpo has known since the beginning of your relationship, so he will not be the most surprised, that is for sure. 

- The one who will be the most stunned will undoubtedly be Kunikida... Perhaps to the point of almost passing out, who knows? 

- The revelation comes in a simple way. Your boyfriend's employees find out when, one day, their boss is on leave and they are having a coffee under the Agency, before starting their work... Their boss walks down the street with you holding his hand, right in front of the café's window.

- Well. Maybe you are just a member of his family after all...?

- But that flimsy theory is shattered when they see the loving look you exchange, as you wait at a crosswalk for a traffic light to turn green. 

- A deep silence fills the café, disturbed only by the discreet chewing of a certain Ranpo, quietly helping himself to the plates of his fellow workers, whose gazes are fixed on you and their boss. 

- He would be sure to thank you for the golden opportunity you have created for him and his stomach. Even if it was not intentional, of course.

--- Spoils for his past starting from here---

- As for his childhood friend Fukuchi, he learns the news just as simply as the others; he asks Fukuzawa why he is not looking for someone to date, knowing that the girl they had known since they were young was madly in love with Fukuzawa. 

- Calmly, the latter announces that he is not single anymore, and for a while now... This leads to a system bug on Fukuchi's side.

- Never ask questions you are not prepared to hear the answers to; it is not so hard to understand, is it?

~

Chuuya

- He is relatively secretive about his personal life, knowing his job and his status within it.

- But anyone who can interpret his facial expressions and moods (someone who knows him well, in short), can easily tell that something good happened to him, the very day after you became a couple. 

- And the person best placed to do this is none other than Kôyô (although Mori suspects something on his side too). When she sees Chuuya contain his irritation with disconcerting ease at the idiotic blunder of a new member of the Mafia, instead of immediately going berserk as he usually does (for he possesses a very precarious patience, even if it does astonish some), she knows that something positive has happened.

- The way he smiles to himself for no apparent reason is also indicative of underlying good news, as is the way he now rushes off work as soon as he has finished what he has to do, or even before, even if it means continuing his tasks the next day (whereas he would compliantly work overtime whenever it was necessary under normal circumstances, or when he simply did not realize how late it was). Of course, he always works overtime when he has to! Only, he now seems unable to stay at work due to a lack of attention to his clock.

- Something is calling him home earlier than before, making him happier but also more patient with others... 

- Like a true detective, Kôyô has patiently gathered all this evidences, and is now certain of their significance. And finally, she decides to find out for herself.

- One evening, while Chuuya is working a little late, on the verge of overtime, Kôyô comes to him, reprimanding a smile, telling him it is time to go home and, besides, that someone is waiting for him, is it not? 

- Chuuya then looks at the clock before widening his eyes, holding back an expletive in the process, and hurries to put his things away at full speed. Eventually, however, he comes to a halt, his cheeks scarlet, realizing something... How can Kôyô know that someone is waiting for him at home, when he has not told anyone...?

- The young woman's victorious, amused smile finishes him off, increasing his blush considerably and nearly causing him to choke on his own saliva as he swallows hard.

- Never underestimate your "big sister"; she knows you by heart, and perhaps better than you know yourself.

~

Dazai (Mafia)

- It is very simple: he shouts it loud and clear to his two comrades as soon as he enters the Lupin, happy as ever. And, in the process, he harps on, for hours, about all the qualities he finds in his new better half... Which takes a long, long time.

- They cannot say they are not surprised: Dazai used to see a lot of girls, without it being serious, and not lasting more than a few days, or even a single day. But, for once, he seems to have found the right person... And he is showing it. A little too much, some might say...

- And, even if they are literally drowned out by the torrent of words Dazai is spouting, his two friends are obviously happy for the brown-haired man, who has finally found some of the happiness he has been looking for.

- As for Chuuya... The poor guy has been taunted for days, supposedly because he does not have "what is needed" to have a boyfriend/girlfriend, apparently... According to Dazai.

- But is this really the case? On the contrary, I think the number of people willing to fight to win our Chuchu's heart is considerable, in reality...

~

Dazai (Agency)

- He certainly knows how to be impressive and sensational, sometimes without even meaning to. But that is just his nature, is it not? (Insert L'Oréal's "because I'm worth it" here).

- The proof: after all that time doing nothing, he has FINALLY started to work. The bare minimum, admittedly, but it is enough to make an impression on his colleagues... Especially one of them, whose identity we will not reveal in order to preserve his anonymity. It is not enough to reveal that he now has someone in his life, but it does arouse the curiosity of his colleagues.

- Such a reversal of fortune (and convictions) has only one objective: to help you pay half of the apartment, food, etc... 

- And, above all, little presents for you. Lots of them. So much so that the apartment you now share is drowning under a ton of gifts for you... But Dazai cannot resist seeing your eyes sparkle with happiness every time he gives you something!

- The final act of the couple's revelation takes place when Sasaki is staying at his apartment for one night; she mentions, in front of everyone, that Dazai's boyfriend/girlfriend was extremely nice... In the process, she provides answers to many questions that were previously unanswered...

- But also brings new questions, especially from Kunikida. Who could be crazy enough to find something positive in Dazai...? It was beyond him.

Aaaand the end! Have a great day, take care! And, if you have a request, do not hesitate!

Kisses~

[scribbledlovenotes]

meet the parents. m.r

mdni. oral. soft.

It was as civil as it could have been, yet dinner was still a fucking gauntlet. The dining room feeling more like a courtroom as you and your mother tried to keep tensions to a minimum. Lasagna was on the menu – a family speciality, but tonight; it was the too-stiff small talk that your dad and boyfriend were having which was the only thing you could taste. Foul and bitter on the tip of your tongue, you could see the way your father was dissecting your choice of men with every bite he took. Unapproving. Disinterested. It had been Mattheo’s idea to meet the family. Something you were hoping to put off for a few more months, or perhaps forever, but no… you just had to listen to him, like you always did; and now, you were drowning in the reality of your fathers discontentment.

A death eater. You just had to fall for a death eater. Not just any death eater however – the son of one of the worst wizards to walk the fucking planet. You had begged Mattheo to behave on the way over. No snide remarks, no words which could be interpreted with a double meaning. Polite, courteous, the perfect gentleman. That should have been easy enough, right? He played the part for everyone else. A charming smirk, ever so crisp button up, prying questions of your fathers answered with a slickness he’d perfected over the years. You weren’t blind though. You saw the tension between the two men in your life. The way one would grip their fork a little tighter, like the handle of a wand, ready to hex. You mother had thought it would be a good idea to offer dessert, but no – you just wanted out of here. Away for a moment. A time out. A chance to breathe.

Dinner ends in silence, as you excuse Mattheo and yourself; claiming that you needed him for help with something and your mother, not taking the hint, says that she’ll make tea. Ugh. Woman please. So now you’re back in your childhood bedroom; the airs thick with tension and everything unsaid. You know that Mattheo is done with playing nice, but you can’t help but wonder what else is install for the night. You need to take action, but how.

He’s leaning against your desk, admiring the posters on the walls and the way your bedsheets match your curtains with the same pattern as he’s loosening his tie; his top button undone. His dark curls mussed from the way he’s run his hand through them a half dozen times with each almost exaggerated breath he’s taken. His eyes still whirling with a storm trapped within them from your fathers interrogation; they lock onto you – heavy, intense, as you shut the bedroom door.

“Your dad hates me..”, he mutters. Voice gruff as if he’s been chewing on gravel.

You don’t answer. Not verbally. You shake your head as you make your way over to him; crossing the room in a few short steps before falling onto your knees. You need to be in charge here. Take control. Show him that you’re not in the least bit worried about what your parents think of him. You brought him to dinner to meet them, not get their blessing. Your life. Your rules. Your game to play. Mattheo’s breathing hitches. He knows exactly where this is going. Your hands flutter across the warm leather of his belt, unbuckling it with ease with a simple, sharp tug. The metal it runs through clinking soft in the quiet of the room. His pants hit the floor, pooling around his ankles and you’re greeted with the ever so pretty view of his cock already straining against his boxers; thick, sensitive. You let your nails peel back the material and it springs free – veined, a little red, precum leaking at the tip which is just begging for you.

“We’re gonna make you forget that dinner mhmm..”, you whisper with a voice that’s almost all heat – a spring of tease to season. His hands are already fisting into your hair – not gentle, no.. desperate. Spitting into your palm, you wrap your hand around his base and stroke up once, slow and steady; watching the way his head tips back, a soft low groan rumbling deep from within his chest. Your tongue brushes across the tip; tasting salt, acting like that of a kittens and he curses beneath his breath, hips twitching, fingers knotting tighter into your hair.

“Don’t tease baby girl.” So you don’t. He’s already wrecked and you know it. You part your lips, taking him deep; mouth stretching around him with ease as your tongue swirls along the underside of his shaft and you begin to bob your head, settling into a rhythm which is all wet heat and suction. You’ve got him exactly where you want him. Vulnerable. Under your control. Placid. Mattheo’s grip tightens as you begin to claw your nails down the side of his thigh and glance up, eyes glistening and doe eyed. He guides you, not forcing, just acting as if he’s taking the lead and you let him. Duh – why wouldn’t you. You can tell he’s ever so close to just losing it.

“Fuck – mhmm, just like that.” The words are panted out; his eyes half closed, watching you through the darkness of your bedroom. You can feel his muscles flexing with every thrust he pushes into your mouth. You take that as the perfect sign to hollow your cheeks, to suck harder, to whimper a small moan that is for him and only him and he’s done. He groans your name like a prayer loud enough to travel through the family home, the sound raw, the intentions not hidden. Your other hand cups his balls, toying with them gently as he chokes out some other words which are incoherent as if what you’re doing is making his head spin. It better fucking be.

Humming as you take him in, tip hitting the back of your throat; you sob out a choke, the vibration causing his thighs to tense and you know he’s close. You can feel him throbbing against the inside of your cheek. Saliva drips down your chin from the corners of your mouth mixed with his arousal and it’s messy and careless and perfect and sin and you take him deeper, throat relaxing, nose brushing against his skin which snaps his control like a branch in the wind. His hips buck just once before he holds your head still. Groaning.

“Gonna… babe.. I’m.. gonna..”

He doesn’t need to say anymore. You don’t pull back. You choke, but then swallow. Every pulse, ever hot spurt, every writher he makes as he shudders and gasps and you finally, knowing the job is done feel his fingers loosen from their grip. Pulling away slowly, you lick your lips and sit back on your ankles to meet his gaze. A smile crossing your lips. Then comes a giggle. Your sounds pulling him back down into the reality you’re both in which is so surreal.

“C’mon”, you suggest, pulling yourself up onto your feet. “My mother said something earlier about dessert and ugh, and just believe it when I say, whatever she’s baked; probably tastes better than me.”

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

sg men x reader and aphrodisiac chocolate?? 🫠

Chocolate

Pairing: Thanos, Namgyu, Gyeong-Seok, Young-il

Thanos

It started with a chocolate truffle.

You’d found it at the bottom of a gift box Su-bong had won in some weird staff lottery. He didn’t even like sweets.

“I’ll trade you this for those instant noodles,” he said, wiggling it in your face.

You snatched it instantly.

You should’ve asked more questions.

Because now?

Your skin was burning.

Your thighs were clenched.

And Su-bong was watching you from across the bunk room with a growing look of concerned panic.

“You okay?” he asked.

You swallowed.

Hard.

“Yeah. I’m—hot.”

His brows knit. “Like fever-hot or… other-hot?”

You stared.

And then whimpered.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “Was that that weird chocolate they were joking about?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The one they said was, uh—‘energy-enhanced.’ Like… adult energy.”

You slowly lowered yourself to the mattress. “Su-bong.”

“Yes?”

“You just fed me a f*cking aphrodisiac.”

Five minutes later, you were a mess.

Sweaty, flushed, thighs soaked through your thin shorts. Every breath felt like it brushed nerve endings you didn’t know you had.

You curled into yourself, face hot.

Su-bong sat beside you, bouncing his knee in full panic mode.

“I didn’t mean to drug you!” he said, voice cracking. “I thought it was just fancy chocolate! Like rich people stuff! Not—sex magic!”

You groaned, squeezing your thighs together. “Stop talking.”

“I can’t, I’m nervous!”

You reached for him—blind, desperate. Grabbed his shirt.

And dragged him down to whisper in his ear.

“If you don’t shut up and do something about it, I’m going to hump this pillow until I cry.”

He froze.

“Oh.”

A pause.

Then, in a voice ten times lower:

“Okay.”

It was like flipping a switch.

One second, Su-bong was stammering.

The next, he was on his knees between yours, mouth on your thigh, fingers tugging your soaked shorts down.

“I’ve never—” he whispered, breath shaking. “But I want to. I really want to.”

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

He spread you open with trembling hands.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

You moaned as his lips met your clit—hesitant at first, then obsessed, lapping like he was starving.

The aphrodisiac made every flick of his tongue feel like a live wire. You bucked, cried out—already close.

And he just kept going.

"You're twitching so much," he breathed, voice muffled against your heat. “You're making these sounds—I can’t—”

You came hard on his tongue, your legs locking around his shoulders.

But he didn’t stop.

“Too much—wait—Su-bong—!”

But he was gone. Lost in it.

“Need to taste it again,” he mumbled, licking you through your second orgasm like it was his only purpose in life.

You were shaking by the third—legs quivering, mind blank, the chocolate still pulsing in your bloodstream.

When you finally tugged his hair back and gasped for mercy, he looked wrecked.

Lips shiny.

Eyes wild.

Cock hard and tenting his pants.

“Can I—fuck—I need to feel you,” he groaned. “You’re so hot—I think I’m gonna combust—”

Namgyu

(reader originally had the chocolate in her bra, hence why she has it in the game)

You only had one piece left.

One tiny square of chocolate smuggled deep in your jacket, traded from a guard with no morals and a sweet tooth. You’d planned to savor it tonight—maybe with Namgyu if he asked nicely.

Instead?

He found it first.

“Mm?” he mumbled, already chewing, eyes lighting up. “Oh my god, is this real? This is so good—”

You turned around just in time to see him swallow it.

And you blinked.

“…Namgyu. Where did you find that?”

He grinned, chocolate-smudged lips. “In your pocket.”

“No—shit—that wasn’t normal chocolate.”

He blinked at you. Paused.

Then frowned. “Wait. What do you mean it wasn’t—”

😳 10 Minutes Later

It started slow.

A deep blush. Sweating. Fidgeting.

Then his eyes got glassy.

His hand kept tugging at the front of his uniform pants.

“Are you hot?” you whispered, looking around. The bunkroom was nearly empty.

“I-I dunno—just—” He squirmed, sitting weird. “Feels like my blood’s boiling. Everything's tight. I—my pants—I swear they shrunk—”

Then his eyes flicked to you.

And stayed there.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “You smell... really good.”

Your heart dropped.

“Namgyu,” you whispered, grabbing his arm, “You ate aphrodisiac chocolate.”

His eyes widened.

“Oh.”

Then: “Oh no.”

He followed you to the back corner of the bunkroom like a dog in heat.

Literally.

You sat on the lower bunk, trying to assess the situation, and Namgyu immediately dropped to his knees between your legs.

“Gyuuuu,” you hissed, shoving his shoulders. “You’re burning up.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “My whole body’s buzzing. And I—fuck, I keep thinking about your thighs.”

You choked.

“My what?”

He buried his face in your lap.

“Your thighs,” he whined. “They’re so soft. I just wanna... grind on them.”

You froze. Absolutely stunned. Entirely, shamelessly aroused.

Then he moaned.

Actually moaned.

His hips rutted forward, slowly, the heat of him pressing between your legs as he rubbed himself against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I can’t stop—please don’t hate me.”

“Holy shit, Namgyu—”

He whimpered again.

You let him.

You shouldn’t have—but god, you let him.

He climbed into your lap, legs straddling one of yours, arms around your shoulders. Every time he rocked his hips, the bulge in his pants pressed right against your thigh—hard, twitching, so fucking needy.

“Y/N,” he gasped, nuzzling your neck. “It hurts. I’m so hard, I—I think I’m gonna come—”

“You haven’t even taken your pants off—”

“I know,” he moaned.

You cupped his face, made him look at you. His cheeks were blazing, eyes glossy, lips bitten raw from trying not to sob.

“You need help, baby?” you whispered.

He nodded, grinding again.

You let him.

You held his hips, let him hump you like he couldn’t breathe otherwise—rubbing himself raw, desperate for friction.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come, I can’t—”

“Do it,” you whispered. “Come in your pants, baby.”

And with one more thrust, he did.

He collapsed against you, panting, damp and trembling.

“I think I ruined my underwear,” he muttered into your shoulder.

You smiled, brushing sweaty hair off his forehead.

“You definitely did.”

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

You kissed his cheek.

“Next time, though?”

He peeked up at you.

“Ask before you eat my snacks.”

Gyeong-seok

Somehow, you and Gyeong-Seok end up hiding out together post-Games in a shitty little one-room apartment.

No money. No escape. Just each other. And a stolen box of fancy chocolates left on someone’s doorstep. (“Don’t ask how I got it,” he mutters. You don’t.)

You split one in half and bite in.

It hits fast. Warmth. Need. Low in your gut.

Then your thighs start rubbing together, and your nipples ache under your shirt, and Gyeong-Seok… won’t meet your eyes.

Because he’s feeling it, too.

Hard.

🍫 Five Minutes Later

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods once. Then again. Sharper.

But his eyes are blown wide, his jaw clenched, and when you shift where you sit, his head snaps toward you like a predator scenting blood.

“…What was in that chocolate?” you whisper, breath hitching.

“I don’t know,” he growls, “but I need to leave. Right now.”

He starts to move. You grab his wrist.

“Please. Don’t.”

He freezes.

Your fingers curl around him. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

He turns—slowly. Controlled. Barely.

And you see it.

The bulge in his sweats. The flush in his cheeks. The tremble in his fingers.

“Shit,” he mutters. “This is—”

You press your body against his.

And he breaks.

The kiss is teeth and tongue and heat. His hands cup your ass, lift you to the counter like you weigh nothing. His lips devour yours, rough and frantic, like he’s been starving for months.

Maybe he has.

“You smell—fuck—you smell like sugar and sweat,” he groans, voice shaking as he pushes your thighs apart.

“Do you wanna stop?” you ask, panting.

His jaw flexes. “I want to stop.”

Then his hand dips into your panties.

“And I can’t.”

🖤 Gyeong-Seok Unleashed

His fingers are thick and fast, curling up inside you like he’s mapping out your weak spots.

And then he finds it.

You scream.

“I knew it,” he mutters, darkly amused. “You get loud when I hit that spot.”

“Please—don’t stop—”

“Couldn’t if I tried.”

His mouth replaces his hand. Tongue hot, desperate. He eats you like it’s the only way to cure the fire crawling through his skin.

Your legs shake. He doesn’t stop. He can’t.

His hands are shaking, cock straining against his waistband.

“I need to fuck you.”

“Then do it.”

He takes you hard against the kitchen counter—deep and fast, panting in your neck, his whole body trembling with restraint.

You cry out when he grinds in deep and stays there.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he hisses. “Like your body was waiting for me.”

You clench.

He groans—growls, really—and comes with his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans as your orgasm rips through you like lightning.

He doesn’t stop.

Keeps moving.

Keeps fucking you.

Until the fire starts to fade.

And all that’s left is your name on his lips—and your taste on his tongue.

Later, collapsed on the floor, he runs a hand through your hair.

“That was insane.”

“Chocolate shouldn’t do that,” you mumble.

“Remind me never to eat stolen sweets again,” he groans.

“…Or do,” you add, grinning.

He looks at you.

And then laughs.

Low. Warm. Yours.

Young-Il

You’d found it tucked at the bottom of the supply crate—a shiny little wrapper nestled between protein bars and water bottles.

"Hey," you’d said, tossing it to Young-il. "Looks like someone up there likes us."

He caught it midair, grinning that half-feral grin of his. "Aw, sweetheart, is it Valentine’s Day already?"

You unwrapped yours. Popped it into your mouth.

It was good. Shockingly good.

Too good.

You blinked.

Then shifted.

A slow, molten warmth unfurled in your stomach.

Young-il watched you chew, tilting his head. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you lied, squirming as heat built low and slow between your thighs. “Just… warm.”

He smirked. “Cute.”

Then popped his into his mouth.

Ten minutes later, the room felt hot. The kind of hot that makes you peel your jacket off, then your long-sleeved shirt, until you’re left in a tank top that suddenly feels too tight.

Across the room, Young-il was shifting too—cracking his neck, loosening his collar, dragging his fingers through his hair with a clenched jaw.

You made the mistake of glancing over.

His eyes met yours.

Something snapped.

“Okay,” he said slowly, voice like smoke. “What the fuck was in that chocolate?”

You swallowed. Hard.

“I… I don’t know.”

He took one step toward you. Then another.

By the third, you backed into the wall behind you, heartbeat jackhammering.

“You’re flushed,” he murmured.

“So are you.”

“Yeah, well…” His voice dropped. “Pretty sure I’m hard as a rock and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your breath hitched.

“Young-il—”

His hands slammed on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, nose brushing yours. “Because if you don’t—if you moan when I kiss you—I’m going to ruin you.”

The kiss is feral. Teeth and tongue and hunger. His hands are in your hair, dragging your head back. He bites your lip, sucks the sting away, and mutters, "Fucking sweet… everything about you is sweet—"

Then he drops to his knees.

Yanks your pants down with a frustrated growl.

“I should take my time,” he mutters. “Lick you slow. Make you beg.”

You whimper as his fingers stroke up your inner thigh.

“But that chocolate? Baby…” He presses a kiss over your soaked underwear. “It made me starve.”

And then he eats.

Fucking devours you—tongue lashing, teeth scraping, lips sucking until your knees buckle and your hands claw at his shoulders, begging for more.

When you finally come—shaking, crying his name—he looks up, mouth soaked, eyes black with lust.

“Your turn,” you whisper hoarsely.

He grins.

“Now you’ve really got me hard.”

[kthologue]

steal my girl — gojo satoru

synopsis. the time gojo and megumi decided to crash your date.

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo roping megumi into his loser activities, timeskips, tw sappy

notes. this drabble has been rotting in my brain for over a year. finally wrote it!

“I’m going on a date.”

It only took five simple words from you to make the world’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer drop to his knees. For the first time in his life, Gojo could swear he was experiencing shortness of breath. And was it just him, or were the walls closing in?

“What?” The word leaves his mouth like a demand rather than a question. He’s trying so hard not to overreact, but your overjoyed face makes it nearly impossible not to succumb to the ugly green monster clawing at his insides.

“Well,” you push his shoulder playfully. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re not the only one that pulls.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gojo mutters under his breath, eye twitching. Don’t you know how hard he works to deter any suitors vying for your attention when the two of you are out? He’s practically a rabid dog growling at anyone who so much as breathes in your direction.

Hell, even Shoko once mentioned to him something about being a “registered pervert” at most establishments you frequent together.

 Not his finest moments.

You eye Satoru suspiciously before continuing. That was your first mistake.

“Yeah, he’s taking me to that new Michelin Star restaurant downtown,” you sigh dreamily. “I mean, seriously. Isn’t that so cool?”

Gojo scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “If that’s what you wanted, you could’ve just said so. I know a place that has three Michelin Stars.”

You pout. “Well, it’s different with you.”

Gojo’s eyebrow quirks up. “How so?”

“You’re a friend. And with him…” You trail off, suddenly feeling shy under Gojo’s piercing gaze. Heat creeps up your neck, blooming across your cheeks as you toy with the hem of your sleeve. “It’s a lot more romantic.”

Gojo thinks he could just die.

The word romantic rings in his ears, and it was deafening. It digs into his ribs and squeezes at something raw inside him. He’s the strongest sorcerer alive, yet right now, he feels utterly powerless against the way your voice softens when you talk about someone else. Against the way your lips curve at the thought of another man.

He scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Romantic, huh?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s an edge to it.

You nod, eyes glimmering with something dreamy, something distant, and Gojo wants to reach out and wipe it away. He wants that look—wants to be the reason for it.

If you wanted romance, he could give you romance.

Better romance.

A grand plan manifests in his head, spinning to life at full speed. 

Oh, this poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.

The moment Megumi sees Gojo enter his and Tsumiki’s shared apartment, he knows something is wrong. There’s a certain energy in the air, a distinct lack of peace that Gojo drags with him that makes the eight year old’s stomach churn.

“Fushiguro!” Gojo’s voice rings out, far too enthusiastic for Megumi’s liking. “We have a problem.”

Megumi barely glances up from his book. “We?”

Gojo makes himself at home and slings an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, we. Our dear [Name] here has a date.”

Megumi's grip on his book tightens, his interest sparking at the mention of you. Where Gojo lacked maturity, you balanced it effortlessly. He liked that about you. He liked you.

Megumi blinks once. “And?”

Gojo sighs dramatically. “And we can’t just let her go unprotected, can we?”

“Unprotected?” Megumi repeats, deadpan. “From what? Bad table manners?”

“From heartbreak, Megumi!” Gojo places a hand over his chest, looking scandalized. “What if this guy is a total loser? What if he chews with his mouth open? What if he’s a handsy creep?”

Megumi’s expression darkens. He had been indifferent before, but now there’s a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He doesn’t like the idea of you being stuck with some no-good scrub who isn’t worthy. In a series of twisted events, you and that white haired idiot had managed to become the only constants in his life. The last thing he wanted was for some random guy to come along and take you away.

“We need to intervene,” Gojo presses, watching the flicker of hesitation in Megumi’s expression. His usual deadpan exterior is cracking, just a little. Gojo knows he has him.

Megumi exhales sharply, gripping his book a little too tightly. “I am not going to ruin their date.” His voice is firm, but there’s a sliver of doubt wedged between the words. Gojo seizes it like a cat pouncing on its prey.

“Ruin?” Gojo gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “Megumi, this is purely a background check.” His grin stretches.

Megumi glares at him. “It could be considered stalking.”

Gojo waves him off. “Pfft. Such an ugly word. I prefer ‘protective oversight’.”

“You don’t even know if he’s a bad person.”

Gojo tilts his head, feigning deep thought. “Oh, you’re right. Maybe he’s perfect. Maybe he’ll take such good care of her that we won’t be needed anymore.”

Megumi stiffens, and Gojo bites back a smirk.

“That’s not—” Megumi starts, but Gojo steamrolls over him.

“I mean, think about it. If this date goes well, they might actually start dating. And then what? She’ll start spending more time with him.” Gojo nudges him. “She’ll run off and start a new family.”

Megumi’s jaw tightens. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously right,” Gojo corrects cheerfully. 

Megumi runs a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. He already knows Gojo won’t drop this, and, annoyingly, he’s already planted the seed of doubt in his mind.

Gojo leans in, voice lower, almost serious. “You care about her, don’t you?”

Megumi exhales sharply. “...Yeah.”

“And you’d rather make sure she’s safe than sit around wondering?”

Megumi stares at him for a long moment, then groans. “Fine. But if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Gojo grins, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s go before you start growing a conscience.”

The night was supposed to be perfect. A well earned break. It your first real date in a while. Probably your first since meeting Gojo. Though, strangely, you’d never stopped to question why that was.

The guy sitting across from you was a non-sorcerer, and while his looks had been enough to catch your attention when he first asked you out, the novelty was wearing off fast. His personality was as flat and each word he spoke draining more of your enthusiasm. You found yourself nodding along absently, barely listening, already regretting your decision.

Still, you just had to stick it out until the food arrived. Then you could eat, make an excuse, and be done with this painfully dull evening.

Though, just when you thought the night was starting to get interesting, a familiar voice cuts through the elegant ambiance of the restaurant.

“Mom, who is this strange man?”

Your choke on your wine at the familiar voice while your date stiffens.

You turn slowly, dread pooling in your stomach as you come face-to-face with Megumi, standing at your table with his arms crossed. His expression is perfectly deadpan, but you see the flicker of mischief in his eyes, a familiar gleam of mischief that could only be the work of a certain white-haired man lurking nearby.

“E-eh?!” You sputter, glancing between Megumi and your date.

Your date looks thoroughly confused. “Do you… know this child?”

“N-no—I mean, yes, but—”

Megumi doesn’t give you a chance to explain. Instead, he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “And what will Gojo—Dad—say about this?”

The words slam into you like a truck.

Your date’s jaw drops. “You’re married?”

“N-no!”

“Then why is he calling you Mom?”

You glare at Megumi, but he just shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Come home,” Megumi continues with a sigh. “Tsumiki misses you too.”

“You have multiple children?!”

Your date looks absolutely horrified, like he’s just found himself in the middle of a scandalous affair. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Listen, if you’re going through a divorce or something, we don’t have to do this—”

Before you can defend yourself, another, far-too-cheerful voice joins in.

“There you are, sweetheart!”

Gojo waltzes up to the table, dressed in his finest suit and those damn glasses he only wore on special occasions. He places a hand on your shoulder and turns to your date with an exaggeratedly apologetic expression. “Sorry, buddy, but this one’s a real work. You know it took me two kids to finally tie her down?”

Your date glances between you, Megumi, and Gojo, his eyes wide with pure panic, as if he’s just stumbled into something far beyond his comprehension. His grip tightens around his napkin, knuckles white. “I—I think I should go.”

You lurch forward, reaching out as if that might stop him. “No, wait—!”

But it’s already too late. He’s scrambling for his coat, chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushes back from the table, nearly knocking over his drink in his rush. Without sparing you another glance, he spins on his heel and all but bolts toward the exit, shoulders hunched as if he’s trying to make himself smaller.

You sit frozen for a second, blinking at the now-empty seat across from you. Then, slowly, you turn toward the culprits, fists clenched at your sides.

“You two,” you hiss, voice low and simmering with fury, “are in serious trouble.”

Megumi has the decency to look guilty, staring down at his lap, shifting awkwardly in his seat as if he’s just now realizing the full extent of what they’ve done.

Gojo, on the other hand, is utterly shameless. He stands there in all his smug glory, adjusting his sunglasses with a satisfied smirk. 

You grab your purse and storm out of the restaurant, with the two trailing behind you like two guilty kids.

“You know,” Gojo muses, “I think that went pretty well.”

You round on him so fast that even he takes a step back. “Pretty well?! You humiliated me! That poor guy thinks I have an entire secret family!”

Gojo snickers. “Well, technically, you do.”

You jab a finger into his chest. “You are not my husband.”

“But wouldn’t it be great if I was?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Megumi lets out a long sigh. “Please don’t entertain him. I’m sorry, [Name].” His blue eyes are trained onto the floor, “I just didn’t think he was good enough for you.”

You exhale sharply, some of your anger ebbing as you glance between the two of them.

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you sigh, your frustration softening at the sight of his guilty expression. You could never stay mad at him, not with that face.

Gojo, however, was a different story.

Slowly, you turn to him, eyes narrowing. “You—”

He grins, entirely unrepentant. “Me?”

Oh, he was so in for it.

Although he had been shamelessly unapologetic at the time, Gojo still found ways to complain about that night, even years later, after you were finally married.

“It was an unusually cruel punishment,” your husband whines dramatically, draping his entire body weight onto you as if his sheer presence could sway your sympathy.

“You mean the silent treatment?” you deadpan, eyes still trained on Megumi practicing his cursed technique across the yard. “It was only a week. Could’ve been longer if you hadn’t harassed everyone around me until they practically begged me to forgive you.”

Gojo lifts his head just enough to shoot you an exaggerated pout. “I don’t harass people. I simply exist, and they just happen to find me irresistible.”

“You tend to have the exact opposite effect, actually.”

“Ten years later, and you’re still so cruel to me.” He sighs heavily, as if burdened by the weight of your terrible treatment, before shoving his face into the crook of your neck. “You wound me, wife.”

You laugh, warmth bubbling in your chest as his breath tickles your skin. “You’re impossible.”

A loud thud interrupts the moment, and you both glance over just in time to see Megumi scowling, his stance off from a misstep in his training.

“You are still disgusting after all of these years,” he grumbles, adjusting his form before going at it again.

Gojo beams. “Aww, he likes us.”

You shake your head, smiling. “He tolerates us.”

“Eh, same thing.” Gojo squeezes you tighter, pressing a loud, obnoxious kiss to your cheek just to be insufferable.

Megumi groans. “Seriously, get a room.”

Gojo smirks, wiggling his brows. “Don’t tempt me, kid.”

[torubeth]

just as you’re about to enter the kitchen, you feel a solid grip on your shoulder.

‘what job does your ass have in the kitchen at-‘ he tilts his head towards the clock ‘at 11 fucking pm?’ his eyebrows are raised, his face full of questions.

‘i’m just gonna go fix myself something to eat’ you reply.

‘i just fed you an hour ago you gremlin’ his face scrunches.

‘i know ryo and i love you for that, but i’m still hungry’ you pout.

unbelievable.

he just wants to sleep (possibly cuddle with you) so why are you ruining it for him?

and “fix yourself something to eat?” don’t make him laugh, that’s his job.

inhaling his frustration, he struts into the kitchen, and opens the fridge to pick out a few items ‘i should charge you for the things you make me do’ he glares at you as he puts on his “chef@work, do not disturb” apron.

‘but you love it when i make you do stuff for me’

that, he cannot argue with.

a few minutes pass by and the smell of whatever he’s cooking, fills the air.

‘ryo how much longer!? ‘m starving. you can even hear my stomach grumble’

he stops mid stirring as he sets down his spatula, and turns to you with a glare-

‘i don’t fucking recommend it but try cooking for once before you run your mouth. brat’ he rolls his eyes.

you giggle at this, knowing that the world may come to an end before the sukuna lets you anywhere near his kitchen.

yeah no, as long as you’re tied to him (which is forever) you’re gonna eat what only he cooks.

as hunger takes over your rational thinking, you waddle into the kitchen, your hands wrapping him from behind as you plant a kiss on his back.

‘you have amazing back muscles, has anyone ever told you that?’ you squeeze them to prove your point.

‘get your grubby hands off of me you freak! and here, eat this and get your ass to bed’ he says as he hands you a plate.

you take it to the table and settle down, ready to delve into the food.

shoving a spoonful of it into your mouth ‘mhmmm! oh my god- this tastes so good ryo!’ you look at him.

‘i bet, and chew your goddamn food properly’ he tsks, finger reaching out to wipe off the sauce at the corner of your mouth.

yeah he’s sleepy, but he’d never let you go to bed hungry.

(rblog if you find chefs hawt🍜🤘🏼)

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.

you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.

"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"

you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.

"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."

he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?

you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.

and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.

this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.

his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.

"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"

he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.

"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."

moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.

he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.

"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."

[jaeyunnz]

"Booksmart, Bedroom smarter."

jake + f¡reader + sunghoon. 18+

WARNINGS — making out, edging, pet names (princess, babygirl, doll, etc.) praising, double penetration, cum eating, squirting, unprotected sex (dont do it, stay safe.) dirty talk.

You're tangled up with Jake and Sunghoon—nerds with dirty secrets. Two seemingly innocent, studious boys whose hidden desires come to light.

Note: this seemed to be requested by a few. i worked really hard on it, i think it might be my best work and definitely my longest one. i've spent over a month working on this so nonetheless, enjoy — this is proofread. ♡

The quiet hum of the library surrounded you, the air thick with the scent of old books and fresh paper. A dull desk lamp cast a soft glow over the scattered notes and open textbooks, but none of you had been paying attention for the last fifteen minutes. The original plan was to study for an upcoming physics exam, but focus had slipped through your fingers the moment Sunghoon started absently chewing on the end of his pen, and Jake had stretched lazily, his hoodie slipping just enough to reveal a sliver of toned skin.

You were supposed to be studying, but the air between you three had been charged all evening at the library—longer than that, if you were honest with yourself.

Jake adjusted his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur. “You’re seriously telling me you don’t get this equation?” He smirked, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with something unreadable behind them. “I think you just like when I explain things to you.”

Sunghoon huffed from across the table, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Yeah, or maybe she just wants attention from both of us. You do ask a lot of questions.” His tone was teasing, but there was an underlying challenge in his voice, something he wasn’t quite saying out loud.

Your pulse quickened, heat creeping up your neck. It wasn’t unusual for them to flirt—they’d always been like this, pushing and testing boundaries, testing the line between playful and something deeper. But tonight, the tension felt different. More tangible.

Jake tilted his head, lips curving into a knowing smile. “If she wanted attention, she could’ve just said so.” His hand brushed against yours as he reached for his notebook, a fleeting touch that lingered longer than necessary.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous. You realize we haven’t gotten through a single chapter, right?” He shot you a glance, something playful but dark glinting in his eyes. “Should we just admit we’re not actually here to study?” Jake chuckled, closing his textbook with a soft thud. “Okay where are we going with this...” you say, raising an eyebrow.

The air between the three of you grew impossibly heavy, the weight of unspoken words and months of teasing finally pressing in from all sides. Your heart pounded as their gazes locked onto you, both of them waiting for something—your not quite sure what though. "Sunghoon can explain that," Jake looks at him, wiggling his eyebrows. "Can you guys focus for one moment? This exam is worth a lot and I'm not about to flop from distractions." Sunghoon huffs out, irritated.

"We've been working all day, I'm sure a short break won't hurt." Jake looks at you, "Right?" He smirks playfully, waiting for a response. "Mhm," you reply back.

Jake’s smirk deepened at your agreement, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the desk. “See? Even she thinks we deserve a break.” Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly torn. “Fine. But if I fail this test, I’m blaming you both.”

Jake chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, yeah. You stress too much.” His foot nudged yours under the table—light, barely noticeable, but intentional. Sunghoon glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “What do we even do for a break?” Jake hummed, shifting closer to you, his knee brushing yours. “Dunno. But I can think of a few things.” His voice was lower now, teasing, but there was an edge to it—something almost daring.

"What is happening? You both are acting strange. Especially Jake." Sunghoon scoffs at your words. “He's always playing around.” Jake turned to you instead. “But she doesn’t mind, do you?” His gaze lingered, a flicker of something playful but intense behind his eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “You like when I mess with you.”

Your breath hitched. The air suddenly felt thick, charged with something neither of them were saying outright—but it was there, simmering beneath months of teasing, lingering glances, and fleeting touches.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a smirk, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to your lips for just a second before he looked away. “We’re wasting time.” But there was no real bite to his words.

Jake only grinned. “So? Maybe she doesn’t mind wasting a little time with us.” The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t joking anymore. You stare at them both, blankly and confused. "I don't think we are on the same page," you say softly.

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop Jake when he reached for your hand, his fingers trailing lightly over yours before settling against your wrist. “If we’re taking a break, we should at least make it worth it,” Jake murmured. "If you know what we mean," his hand slides down to your thigh, gently caressing. This causes your body to shiver slightly.

"No, I don't know what neither of you mean. I'm completely lost actually," That was a lie. You know what they want, you just wanna hear them say it.

Sunghoon’s gaze flickered between you and Jake, then he sighed, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered—before standing and reaching for your other hand. He pulled you up gently but firmly, his grip warm and steady. Jake gets up as well, standing behind you, his hand trailing down to grab your waist and yank you closer to him, your cheeks turning bright red. “We wanna fuck,” he said, voice controlled but laced with something heavier.

You swallow hard, looking up at them. "Excuse me?–" Jake lowers his head down to your level, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck which causes you to bite your lower lip, despite feeling shocked from whats happening. I mean fuck, you never thought they'd want something like this? You thought they were always focused on grades and thats it.

"You didn't get it the first time, or second..." his finger slides underneath your shirt, his cold fingertips eliciting a moan from you. "So I'm being straightforward." Sunghoon watches you both, his serious demeanour breaking," My dorm is the closest," Jake smirked at him, letting you go. “Lead the way, Hoon.”

And just like that, studying was completely forgotten.

As you walked out of the library, the buzz of the campus seemed distant, as if the world had narrowed down to just the three of you. Sunghoon led the way, pulling you toward the dorms, his grip firm on your hand. Jake followed closely behind, his eyes never leaving you. The tension was almost suffocating, and every step you took felt heavier, like you were being pulled toward something you couldn't stop.

When you reached Sunghoon's room, he barely bothered with the door, pushing it open and guiding you inside. His eyes were intense, focused on you, as if everything about this moment depended on what you did next.

Jake was right behind you, his hands immediately finding your waist as he pressed his chest against your back. And there he went, stepping closer, his breath warm on your neck. He traced his fingers lightly along your arm, sending a shiver through you. "We've waited too long for this." His voice was barely above a whisper, his lips grazing your ear as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss.

The kiss was urgent, like a dam breaking.

Jake's lips were soft but insistent, his hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you into him as if he couldn't get close enough. Sunghoon's hand slipped to your back, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as he kissed the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

Everything about the moment felt electric. You could feel the way both of them moved together, not competing but complementing each other, their touches igniting a fire that had been building for months. Jake's hands were everywhere-on your hips, your back, your face-as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing against yours.

Jake's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin, sending a surge of heat through your veins. You arch your back against Sunghoon's chest when you felt him leave sloppy wet kisses on your shoulder with his cold hands caressing and gliding over the soft skin of your thighs. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmured, voice rough.

A part of you wanted to stop, it felt wrong but so right.

Your sandwiched between them, Jake sucking hard onto the skin of your neck to leave a purple hickey, a moan escaping your lips, "Ah mmph Jake.." he smirks at you, lifting his head up to meet your eyes.

Your pulse hammered as Jake’s smirk turned downright predatory, his dark eyes glinting with a need that sent a jolt straight to your core. “You’re fucking trembling,” he rasped, his voice dripping with raw lust as his thumb grazed over the fresh, throbbing hickey on your neck, making you whimper. He shot a quick, wicked glance at Sunghoon, some unspoken agreement flashing between them, before he crashed his lips back into yours, tongue pushing past with a hungry, desperate edge, tasting every moan you couldn’t hold back. Sunghoon’s hold on you turned possessive, his hard chest flush against your back, trapping you between their heat.

"You’ve got no idea how long we’ve fantasized about this,” he growled low in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin, making you shudder. His hands slid down, gripping your hips with bruising force before dipping lower, fingers teasing under the waistband of your pants, skimming over the sensitive skin with a touch that burned. His mouth latched onto the crook of your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, his tongue flicking over the spot as you squirmed against him.

"F-fuck, Hoon..." Your head spun, caught in a haze of their scent. Jake’s faint cologne mixing with Sunghoon’s clean, musky warmth—and the overwhelming press of their bodies. These nerds, the guys you thought were all about textbooks and grades, were fucking unraveling you, peeling back every layer with dark, primal intent. Jake’s hands shoved your shirt up, exposing your stomach to the cool air, his rough palms dragging over your ribs, thumbs brushing just under the edge of your bra as he groaned, “Shit, you feel so good.” His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, pulling a shaky moan from your throat.

“Tell us how bad you want this,” he demanded, voice thick, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your knees weak, daring you to give in completely. "I want it so bad.. please." Your chest heaved as Jake’s intense stare pinned you in place, his words still echoing in your head, dripping with filthy promise. The air was thick with lust, every fucking touch from them setting your nerves on fire. Sunghoon’s smirk burned against your neck as his deft fingers popped the button on your pants, yanking them down with a hungry impatience.

"Gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he growled, voice rough as sin, his breath hot and ragged while his hands roamed your bare skin like he owned every inch. Jake didn’t waste a goddamn second, ripping your shirt off and tossing it aside, his eyes devouring the sight of you half-naked, vulnerable between them. His calloused fingers traced the lace of your bra before he dove down, sucking and biting along your collarbone, leaving red marks as his hands shoved your pants and panties off in one go.

The sudden chill on your slick, aching pussy made you shudder, but their heat swallowed you right back up. Jake’s mouth crashed into yours again, tongue fucking into you with desperate need, while his hands gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, yanking you flush against him. Sunghoon stripped behind you, his shirt long gone, and you felt the hard, throbbing bulge of his cock through his jeans as he rutted against your ass, slow and deliberate, making you whine, "Sunghoon... fuck."

“You ready to take us both, sweetheart?” he rasped in your ear, voice pure filth, as his fingers hooked into your panties and dragged them down, leaving your dripping cunt and tight ass exposed to their greed. "Mm.." you mouth out quietly. He kicked off his jeans, and the raw heat of his bare skin against yours had you trembling with want. Jake pulled back, eyes dark and feral as he stripped down, his thick, hard cock springing free, already leaking precum as he stared at you like a predator about to feast.

He guided you down onto the nearest surface—fuck, could’ve been a bed, a couch, who cares—spreading your legs wide as he knelt between them. Sunghoon mirrored him, shedding his clothes, his own dick just as hard and ready, the sight of their pulsing lengths making your pussy clench with desperate need. They moved like they’d planned this shit for months—Jake at your front, hands spreading your trembling thighs as he lined his fat cock up with your soaked entrance, teasing the tip against your clit until you whimpered. Sunghoon took your back, his rough palms sliding down your spine, spreading your cheeks as he pressed his leaking tip against your tight hole.

“Relax, baby, we’ve got you,” Jake muttered, voice thick with lust, as he pushed in slow, his cock stretching your pussy wide, the burn turning to a deep, aching pleasure that ripped a moan from your throat, "Ah f-fuck!" Sunghoon groaned low as he eased into your ass, inch by fucking inch, the tight ring of muscle giving way to his thick shaft, the dual stretch of them filling you up so goddamn full you could barely breathe.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hissed, gripping your hips hard as they both started to move, Jake’s thrusts deep and punishing, Sunghoon’s slower but just as brutal, their cocks dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. The wet slap of skin on skin, their grunts, and your broken moans filled the air as they fucked into you, their pace picking up, driving you straight to the edge of fucking oblivion.

Their cocks pounding relentlessly, stretching your soaked pussy and tight ass to the goddamn limit. Jake’s hands clamped down on your thighs, spreading you wider as he slammed in, sweat dripping down his temple, his breath ragged as he snarled, “Fuck, you’re so tight, squeezing me so good.” His eyes burned into yours, wild with lust, every thrust hitting deeper, making you scream their names. "a...ah shit-" is all your able to mouth out.

The feeling of being filled to the limit makes your eyes roll back in a daze. Sunghoon’s fingers bruised your hips, his cock driving into your ass with brutal force, his pace faltering as he groaned against your ear, “Shit, I can’t hold it—gonna fill this tight cunt.” The pressure of them both, the wet, obscene sounds of their cocks sliding in and out, pushed you past your breaking point. Your body convulsed, pussy and ass clenching hard around them as you came, a shattered moan ripping from your throat, your vision blurring with pure, fucked-out bliss.

Jake’s control snapped, his hips jerking as he buried himself deep, a guttural “Fuck!” escaping him as he unloaded, hot cum flooding your pussy, spurt after thick spurt coating your insides. Sunghoon growled low, thrusting once, twice more before he exploded too, his cock throbbing as he pumped his load into your ass, the heat of it seeping deep, making you whimper at the overwhelming fullness. "ah f-fuckk!" you shout out, body trembling.

They rode out their highs, grinding slow and deep, ensuring every drop stayed inside you, marking you as theirs. After a tense, breathless moment, they eased out, their cocks slipping free with a wet, filthy sound, cum leaking from both your holes, dripping down your thighs as you shuddered at the sudden emptiness. Jake smirked, still panting, as he helped you sit up, his voice dripping with dark promise, “Not done with you yet, baby.” Sunghoon’s eyes glinted with agreement as he stood beside Jake, both their dicks still half-hard, slick with cum and your juices, twitching at the sight of you fucked-out and trembling.

"m..more?" Sunghoon’s hand fisted in your hair, tugging just hard enough to tilt your head up as he growled, “Mhm. Open that pretty mouth.” You obeyed, lips parting, tongue out as he guided his thick cock past your lips, the bitter, musky taste of his cum and your ass flooding your senses. You sucked him down, hollowing your cheeks, his low hiss urging you on as he rocked his hips slightly. Jake stepped in next, stroking his glistening shaft before you switched, taking him deep into your throat, the salty remnants of his cum from your pussy mixing on your tongue as he groaned.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” his hand cupping your face while you worked him over. They alternated, using your mouth like their personal toy, grunting and swearing under their breath until they hit their limits again. "Gghh.." you gag around their cocks. Sunghoon came first this time, thick ropes of cum shooting down your throat as he held your head steady, forcing you to swallow every fucking drop. Jake followed right after, his load spilling over your tongue, hot and sticky, as he muttered, “Good fucking girl,” watching you gulp it down with hazy, satisfied eyes. When they finally pulled away, chests heaving, they softened almost instantly.

Jake dropped to his knees in front of you, brushing damp hair from your face with a gentle hand, a lopsided grin breaking through the haze of lust. “You’re unreal, you know that?” he said, voice warm now, thumb tracing your swollen lips. Sunghoon collapsed beside you, pulling you into his chest, his heartbeat steady under your cheek as he kissed the top of your head. “We didn't hurt you, did we?” he whispered, his tone quiet but sincere. "N-no.. that was amazing." you whisper out breathless. The three of you melting into a tangled, sated pile, the raw heat fading into something softer, sweeter, as you basked in the afterglow together.

you made it to the end. i wanted to explain why i was on a almost—3 month hiatus now. its quite personal but i started exams and went through a break up—ofcourse i feel much better and im happy to say ill be writing again! thank you so much for all the support on my work, its much appreciated. and also thank you to @w2hoonki for requesting this idea !! <3 i hope you all are doing well.🥹💘

[somnoir]

Down Bad in Distress - Part 3

Part 2 | Masterpost

"Daniel, I heard from CW that your children are moving here." Alfred said one day.

Everyone immediately pauses, except for Danny who was happily doing the cooking while Alfred served the food.

"Danny's kids?" Tim narrows his eyes, glancing back at Jason. "Danny?"

"Yeah? Oh, right! Dick, you didn't tell them?" Danny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Dick nervously laughs, "Slipped my mind. What's that about your kids?"

"Right, right. They didn't like being away from me all the time so they decided to move. I was hoping to enroll Ellie into Gotham Academy." Danny hums, serving Damian some vegan pancakes and patting the boy's head. "She'd be in your year, kid."

Damian scowls, swatting his hand away but it wasn't accompanied by the usual snark.

"And your son?" Dick asks, immediately being scolded by Alfred for talking while chewing.

"Dante takes a Mechanical Engineering course. It was harder for him to transfer since this would be his third year into it." Danny sighs, sounding a little tired just as he serves Bruce some coffee. "But my kid's stubborn as hell."

"How old are your children?" Bruce tilts his head, just as Danny swats away some dust of his shirt.

"Dan is 23 and Ellie is 15."

"Jason and Damian's age. Hm."

The aforementioned two immediately locked eyes, already mentally planning on tracking down the Fenton siblings. As per usual, Alfred beat them to it and quickly gave Danny an invitation.

"When are they arriving? I do hope that they can come for a meal." Alfred hums, patting Danny in the back.

"Today, actually!" Danny beams.

"You're not worried about your kids being in Gotham?" Steph asks, mouth still full. Danny doesn't even hesitate to pinch her sides when she does, making Stephanie yelp.

"My parents taught me and my sister how to fight at very young ages. My kids got the same treatment. Ellie has one hell of a right hook and Dan gets creative with whatever the hell he can use as a weapon." Danny snorts, "I got called by the principal once cause he stabbed someone with a pencil. Not that it wasn't deserved. My kid doesn't like it when people go after his friends."

"Gotham Material?" Duke asks.

"Gotham Material." Danny chuckles, "If a rogue attacks, my kids would go on with their day like nothing happened. Weird shit like that is normal back in Amity."

Ah, yes. The illusive amity park. Where everything is utterly strange. Tim still couldn't get a good background check on the small town in Illinois—a place that wasn't even marked on the fucking map.

"So..." Dick grins, "When do we get to meet them?"

Alfred clears his throat, "Would dinner suffice?"

Danny grins back, "I'll wrangle them here if I can."

The moment Bruce found out Danny had kids, something in his brain short-circuited. The knowledge alone was enough to make him reassess everything he thought he knew about his bodyguard, but hearing Danny talk about them? That was something else entirely.

Bruce had barely asked a question before Danny launched into a full-fledged monologue, his usual lazy grin stretching into something softer, brighter. Every word was laced with pride, every detail shared with the delight of a man who lived to brag about his kids.

In the span of two hours, Bruce learned more about Dante and Janelle Fenton than he knew about most people in his life.

Dante—the eldest—was a menace. An antisocial teenager with a violent streak that made Damian look like a well-adjusted honor student. Fights, trouble, a past full of missteps and regret. But Danny didn't speak about it with shame or frustration. No, he spoke with admiration, because Dante tried. He fought against his own nature, struggled to rein himself in, to be better for the people he loved.

"He’s a smart kid," Danny had said, his voice full of warmth. "Too smart. Built himself a motorcycle from scrap when he was sixteen—real Frankenstein's monster type of thing, but it runs better than my car."

Bruce had to physically stop himself from calling Jason right then and there, because if his second son found out a teenager had built the equivalent of the Batpod out of junk, he would never recover.

Then there was Janelle. Just as troublesome as her brother, but in an entirely different way. She wasn’t a fighter, at least not in the way Dante was. Her chaos was more... exploratory. She skipped class not out of defiance but because something else caught her interest. An adventurous child who saw a locked door and immediately wondered what was on the other side. A girl who thought parkour was a valid form of travel, who had given Danny a heart attack the first time he caught her flipping off rooftops like a circus performer—it reminded him of Dick when he was much younger.

"She stuck the landing, though," Danny had admitted, laughing. "I wanted to ground her forever, but I was also kinda impressed."

And the stars. Both of his kids loved the stars. Danny spoke of late-night stargazing like it was a sacred ritual, like tracing constellations in the night sky was an unbreakable bond between them. And despite the fact that Dante was technically an adult now, despite the fact that Janelle was a teenager with her own life and interests, Danny still spoke of them like they were his babies.

Bruce sat there and listened, absorbing every word. He asked questions because he wanted to know more, because watching Danny light up every time he got to talk about his kids was addicting.

It was attractive. Gods, it was attractive.

Danny Fenton loved his children unconditionally. Not just in the way he spoke of them but in the way he understood them. The way he knew them. There was no hesitance in his words, no uncertainty in their relationship. He knew their struggles, their strengths, their habits—he knew them in a way that made Bruce’s chest ache.

Because as much as he admired it, as much as he wanted to drown in the warmth of Danny’s love for his children, there was an ugly sliver of jealousy buried beneath it all.

Danny’s kids talked to him. They trusted him. There was no barrier, no invisible wall of hesitance between them.

Bruce had spent years trying to connect with his own children, trying to bridge the gaps that always seemed to widen no matter how hard he reached. He loved them with everything he had, but love alone had never been enough to stop them from pulling away.

Danny? Danny just had it. That easy, unquestionable bond. That foundation built on trust and understanding, not just duty or protection.

Bruce swallowed down the jealousy. He shoved it into the part of his mind where he buried all his regrets and let himself be smitten instead. Because damn it, responsible and loving fathers were attractive, and watching Danny Fenton light up over his kids was devastating.

Bruce isn’t surprised that after hearing Danny gush about his kids, he feels compelled—inspired, really—to introduce his own children to the Fentons properly. What does surprise him is how little convincing it takes to get his entire family to cooperate.

By the time he makes his decision, every single one of them is already waiting in the foyer, dressed, prepared, and standing with an air of near-military precision.

Bruce narrows his eyes, crossing his arms as he surveys them. "I wasn’t expecting compliance from any of you."

Damian, adjusting his hair in the reflection of a polished vase, merely scoffs. "Tt. You underestimate us, Father. We cannot afford to embarrass ourselves in front of Daniel’s family."

Jason, standing beside him, is… straightening his jacket? Running a hand through his hair like he's actually making an effort to look presentable? Damian barely spares him a glance before adding, "Todd, don’t mess this up. His eldest is the same age as you and Cassandra."

"Wouldn’t dream of it, demon brat," Jason grumbles, rolling his shoulders like he’s psyching himself up for a job interview.

Bruce is still processing this unusual display of readiness when Alfred arrives, a knowing, fond smile settling on his face as he takes in the scene.

"I must say," Alfred begins, hands clasped behind his back, "I am quite proud that none of you needed prompting. Daniel will appreciate the effort."

"You can count on us, Alfie!" Dick declares, beaming.

Steph and Tim follow up with matching thumbs-ups, their grins full of mischief but their intentions sincere.

"We'll be on our best behavior!"

Alfred simply nods, clearly amused but unwilling to acknowledge it aloud. "Very well—" Then a knock at the door interrupts, and his eyes flick toward the entrance. "Ah. It seems Daniel has arrived."

There’s a split second of calm before chaos erupts.

Bruce watches as his children all lunge for the door at once, elbowing, shoving, and stepping on each other’s feet in a desperate attempt to reach it first.

Alfred, with decades of experience in dealing with their nonsense, doesn’t bother reacting beyond stepping forward and opening the door himself. As soon as he does, he turns and pins the children with a look of utter disappointment.

The effect is immediate.

Every single one of them freezes mid-scramble, jerking upright like misbehaving students caught by a strict headmaster. With impressive speed, they fall into an eerily well-practiced formation, arranging themselves with the kind of poise that makes them indistinguishable from their usual gala appearances.

Bruce sighs. No. That won’t do.

Danny doesn’t do the whole stiff, overly formal thing. If they meet him like this, he’ll just laugh and call them out for it.

With a subtle wave of his hand, Bruce signals for them to adjust.

In an instant, their postures relax. Smiles become more natural—real rather than rehearsed. The atmosphere shifts from forced courtesy to genuine warmth.

Good.

Because if there’s one thing Bruce has learned, it’s that Danny Fenton can read through bullshit alarmingly well.

The first thing Bruce notices is that Danny isn’t in his usual suit. No high-collared, sharp-lined professionalism. Instead, he’s wearing something casual but still presentable—comfortable. It makes him look softer in a way Bruce rarely gets to see. More relaxed. More himself.

There’s a grin on his face, wide and easy, and a warmth in his eyes that Bruce has only ever seen in Alfred when the family finally gathers together after too long apart.

“Oh, you’re all here!” Danny laughs—laughs—and Bruce has to physically stop himself from reacting because—shit. That sounds good. No, not just good—amazing.

And then—

“My kids—Janelle, no! Do not chase after the turkey, and don’t pet Ace without permission! We are not kidnapping the dog—we have Cujo!"

Bruce barely has a moment to process that before Damian stiffens beside him, squaring his shoulders like he’s preparing to throw hands whoever is trying to steal their dog and turkey?

“Sorry,” Danny says sheepishly, stepping fully inside. “She likes dogs a little too much. Dante here is more of a cat person.”

Bruce doesn’t even have time to respond before Danny reaches back and pulls someone into the manor.

And—what the fuck?

For a split second, Bruce genuinely thinks Danny has somehow duplicated himself. But no. Not quite.

It’s another Fenton. Just younger. Scowlier. Broodier.

Dante Fenton is just as tall as his father, just as broad-shouldered and built. But where Danny is all easy grins and shameless affection, Dante is—well, Bruce can only describe it as Jason if he had a twin that was worse.

His arms are crossed, his expression set into a resting bitch face so perfectly executed that Bruce has seen lesser versions of it on Danny himself.

“This is my eldest, Dante—smile,” Danny practically hisses, pinching his son’s side.

Dante immediately hisses back like a feral animal, shooting his father a glare before half-assing the most reluctant, teeth-baring grimace Bruce has ever seen.

Bruce is so close to laughing.

But before he can even comment, there’s the sound of something small tearing across the yard, followed by—

“Ellie, come back here!”

Danny barely has time to sigh before bolting back outside, disappearing for only a second before returning—this time, dragging yet another Fenton into the house.

Bruce blinks. Another one.

This one’s smaller. Female. But still unmistakably a Fenton.

“This raccoon is Janelle,” Danny introduces, exasperated.

“I’m not a raccoon!” Janelle yells, pouting hard enough to make even Damian look impressed.

“You might as well be!” Danny huffs, already brushing off the dirt and grime clinging to her jeans, muttering to himself as he adjusts her hoodie and makes sure she’s not too disheveled. “Sorry,” he murmurs again, glancing up at Bruce like he’s worried he’s making a mess just by existing.

Bruce doesn’t even think before stepping forward, automatically ushering the Fentons further inside.

“No need,” he assures, as quickly and firmly as possible. “You’ve seen my kids, Danny. We have Steph.”

“Hey!”

Bruce barely registers Stephanie’s indignation because, frankly, he’s far too busy being weak over this whole situation.

Timothy Wayne-Drake has met a lot of people who love their parents. Some to a reasonable degree. Some to a concerning one. But he has never met anyone as downright possessive of their father as the Fenton siblings.

At first, he thought Dante and Janelle—sorry, Ellie—were just the skittish type. You know, new place, new people, a little wary of the freakin’ Waynes (which, fair). But, uh. No. That is not what’s happening here.

They are, quite literally, guarding Danny.

They don’t let him stay with Bruce for too long. They don’t let Danny play around with the rest of the Wayne kids unsupervised. There’s always one of them around. Always watching.

At first, it’s just funny. Like, ha-ha, protective kids, whatever. But then Tim starts realizing—

Dante and Ellie Fenton have instantly decided to be at least a little hostile to every single Wayne in the building.

Except Alfred. Because, obviously, everyone likes Alfred.

“So… Erm…” Duke, brave soul that he is, awkwardly tries to break the ice, clearly very aware of Ellie’s piercing blue eyes lasering into his soul. “I was just wondering why you two decided to move. I mean…”

“Oh, that’s simple!” Ellie laughs. Cute.

Then she grins. Not cute.

Sharp teeth. Way too sharp. Like her dad’s.

“Dad was away for too long. We didn’t like that.” Her grin widens. “And besides, Dad seems to be okay with staying in Gotham long term. Might as well move too.”

…Yeah, okay, that was definitely a threat.

There’s something in the way she says it. Something in the undertone.

Like she blames them. Like she’s implying they are the reason her father was gone for so long.

Tim resists the urge to raise his hands in surrender.

Meanwhile, Dante says nothing.

Which, honestly? Probably for the best. Ellie is friendly at least—sweet, in a way that would be reassuring if she didn’t just casually drop the most unsettling offhanded comments.

Dante, though? Dante is just vibing.

With Jason.

In the corner.

Where neither of them is speaking.

And Tim isn’t sure why that’s worse, but it is.

"Where are you guys staying at? Danny’s penthouse, or did you get a house?"

Steph plops into the seat beside Ellie, casually pulling out Uno—the game of friendship-ending grudges and betrayal.

"Jason crashed there once," she adds. "He still won’t tell us why."

Dante freezes. Stiffens visibly as he turns to Jason. His eyes narrow, analyzing. Jason immediately reacts in kind.

For a solid minute, neither of them says a word. Just—silent eye contact.

Then, like some kind of telepathic dude code agreement, Dante nods—approvingly.

Jason hums, looking pleased with that, and then just…turns back to the TV.

What the hell was that?

"Same place," Ellie huffs, like her brother didn’t just have a whole unspoken conversation with Jason. Then she perks up. "Oh, which one of you is in my year at Gotham Academy?"

Everyone, immediately and without hesitation, gestures to Damian.

"Demon Brat," Tim says, speaking for the masses.

Damian scowls, clutching Titus like the dog is his last anchor to sanity. Which, fair. Mostly because Ace—the traitor—has already defected, happily nestling into Ellie’s lap like she handcrafted him from scratch.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Damian, then grins. Wide. Too wide.

"Is that a katana?"

The room stills.

Every single person whips their head toward the katana Damian absolutely does not go anywhere without.

Then, hesitantly, they look back at Ellie.

Who has already stood up and is calmly approaching Damian like she isn’t about to start something.

"May I?" she asks, stretching a hand out.

Tim makes a mental note: this one is dangerous.

"Ellie," Dante finally speaks, voice flat but exasperated.

Damian snarls, holding the sword closer. "What makes you think I’d let you touch my blade?"

Oh, she’s smug now. That’s never good.

"I was in Japan for three months when I was twelve," she says, all nonchalant. "Met a lot of interesting people. Learned how to use and maintain katanas during that time."

Damian squints. "Prove it. How does one properly maintain a katana?"

Ellie tilts her head, almost like she’s insulted.

"You start with uchiko, obviously," she says. "Cotton ball, light taps, no rubbing. Clears out the old oil and dust. Then you use a nuguigami cloth—special cloth, not just any cloth—to wipe it down before reapplying the choji oil with an abura nugui cloth. Not too much. Just enough to coat. And for sharpening, you start with a low grit whetstone, move up gradually, and never—never—go for a high grit too early unless you want to ruin the whole edge."

She smirks. "That good enough for you?"

Damian stares.

Tim recognizes that stare. That’s the oh no, I accidentally respect this person stare.

Horrifying.

Bruce and Danny return just in time to witness what should be a nightmare scenario—Ellie handling Damian’s katana like it’s an extension of her own arm.

Damian, to the horror of everyone involved, is right next to her, calmly discussing proper forms and optimal grips like he wasn’t about to stab her five minutes ago.

Tim resists the urge to check if hell has frozen over. Give Constantine a call and everything.

Bruce, naturally, hones in on Danny with that same soft look he thinks no one notices. Gross. He clocks that shit immediately and blanches.

"Your daughter knows how to handle a katana?" Bruce asks, voice way too fond for what should be a concerned question.

Danny, like an absolute menace, doesn’t even blink. "Both of my kids like swords. Ellie just prefers the lighter and faster ones. Dante likes zweihanders and claymores." He waves a dismissive hand. Like this is normal dad talk and not insane assassin lore drop. "Never understood why you like heavy blades, though."

Dante, without missing a beat, defensively shoots back, "They just feel balanced in my hand, okay?"

Tim files that away under: Reasons to Stay on Dante’s Good Side.

Bruce, still doing the gross fond smile thing, tilts his head. "Did you teach them?"

Danny smirks. "I wish. Got a friend who trained me when I was younger. Dante pissed him off just to be taught, and Ellie followed by annoying him until he caved." He shakes his head, sighing like a put-upon father and not a man casually revealing that his kids harassed someone into giving them weapons training. "Least of the crazy shit they’ve done."

Tim immediately clocks the way Dick’s entire being lights up.

"Oh, do tell," Dick grins, leaning in.

Danny, like an absolute maniac, just shrugs and says, completely deadpan:

"Ellie once snuck out in the middle of the night, went missing for a week, and then I found her in Russia, fist-fighting an assassin just last year."

The room freezes.

Tim can physically hear the record scratch in his brain.

Danny, unbothered, continues, "Dante blew up my godfather’s car when he was about to open it."

Tim slowly turns his head toward the two Fenton siblings.

Who are grinning. The same grin. The same sharp, predatory flash of color in their definitely-not-normal blue eyes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Tim knew Danny wasn’t human. That was accounted for.

Unfortunately, what wasn’t accounted for was the fact that Danny’s kids were also very much not human.

…He needs more caffeine for this.

[casiia]

simon hated dating for the sole reason of small talk. in the nicest way possible, he does not care what your favorite color is or what your childhood pet’s name was. he would rather not beat around the bush, in his opinion it’s a waste of time so he simply doesn’t date.

he decides to give it another try, you were so sweet asking him for his number. stuttering and shifting on the balls of your feet, a pretty blush lighting your features.

but he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes when you ask him what his favorite animal is. instead of walking out like he normally does, he decides to ask his own set of questions — for once.

“i like to draw.”

biting his tongue he has to resist the urge to say “that’s what everyone says,” because most of the time, they are horrible at their hobby.

but after a few dates, and a few hookups, you decide to let him browse your sketchbook. sitting in his lap you nervously fidget with your fingers, watching as he slowly flips through and admires each page. chewing on your lower lip when his eyebrows raise, you almost gasp when he shifts his hips upwards beneath you.

“okay, that’s enough.” you grumble, reaching for the book and trying to snatch it away. simon only smirks and leans back, holding the book to the side out of your reach.

when you told simon you were an artist, he was very surprised to see your intricate drawings of people, landscapes, and human anatomy.

smudged pencil lines of hands groping breast, detailed veins running along various sized and shaped cocks.

he swallows thickly when he turns a page and sees one centered, one that looks too familiar to his own. when you finally snatch the book from his hand with a wild blush, he knows. you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“aw, baby. needed something to look at when you miss me? y’coulda just asked me.”

simon’s grinning up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, his hands running up and down your thighs.

he doesn’t want to think about the other drawings of dicks you’ve drawn, the men before him. he just needs to make sure that his will be the final one in your precious book.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

seven - m. kaiser

you were seven years old when you first met the piece of trash named michael kaiser.

sitting on the swings alone with a busted violet lip and ripped jeans and scratched up, bloody knees wasn’t considered the ideal invitation for a friendship. but you had mindlessly approached him, sitting on the swing next to him before waving to him.

subhuman garbage looked up, wondering why such a nice girl would be looking at him, talking to him. but he didn’t question it and instead listened to you talk, introducing himself.

“but i don’t like to be called michael, so don’t call me that.”

“got it! you’re mihya then!”

subhuman shit—no, newly named mihya felt his heart skip a beat. no one was ever affectionate enough to give him a nickname, so such an experience made mihya strangely ecstatic. he nodded, a small smile slowly making way onto his swollen lips. “right. im mihya.”

the second time you saw mihya was only a few days later.

he had been sitting on the swings, crying his eyes out. this time he had a nosebleed, angry red marks on his neck, and his hands were nearly purple. you had approached him, your eyebrows knit together.

“mihya? what’s wrong?”

mihya had sniffled before looking up at you. “will you get mad at me…?” he choked out weakly. your jaw dropped, grasping both of his hands.

“mihya, i would never get mad at you!” you exclaimed. “you’re my friend!”

mihya muttered something incoherent before sighing. “…my dad. he gets mad a lot.”

you blinked a few times, your seven year old mind not quite comprehending the situation. but you frowned, looking up at the sky. “oh, i really hate it whenever mama and dad get mad at me. your dad is always mad? that sounds so bad. im so sorry, mihya.”

mihya nodded. “it’s…don’t worry about it.”

one day, after many encounters and at eight years old, you finally spoke your thoughts.

“i think your house is haunted.”

mihya, who had been chewing on garlic and sugar flavored bread from the bakery, stopped mid chew. “why?”

“well, your dad is always mad, and you’re always crying. you’re outside as much as you possibly can, and you don’t wanna be there. that sounds haunted to me. and when you are, you hide from him.” you muttered. “i don’t like that. i don’t like how you’re always crying and hiding.”

mihya hummed, quick to respond. “well, i guess i really got no other choice. i wanna avoid getting hit as much as i can.”

your chest tightened to the point where it hurt, a frown making way onto your face. “i love you, you know that? to the moon and saturn, i really do love you.”

mihya’s heart stopped.

and eight years old, having such a crush probably won’t end good for him. but no one had ever told him that they loved him before, and yet you say it out of nowhere, and to the moon and saturn? he might just die of happiness.

heat spread throughout his cheeks before he squeaked out. “i-i love you…too?” you gave him a toothy grin and gave him a high-five.

at ten years old, you’re on the swings once more, this time with a blue raspberry popsicle in between your lips. mihya has a strawberry flavored one, bought using your money.

“you know, mihya. we should move away forever. or maybe we could be pirates or something. y’know, like from one piece.” you said dreamily.

“that came out of nowhere. why?” mihya replied, tossing his now empty stick into the trash can of the park.

“so that we could get away from your damn father and you won’t have to cry anymore.” you muttered, pouting. “i’ve never even met the guy, and yet i hate him.” you chomped down on the popsicle stick, breaking it in half.

mihya laughed. “yeah? i want to leave too. and it sounds nice to leave with you.”

at fourteen, the news arrived.

you sat on the swings, sobbing into your hands. mihya had come from behind you, his heart aching when he saw your tears. you were the love of his life (you just didn’t know it yet), and your tears hurt him.

“mihya, im moving.”

three words, and yet it wasn’t the usual three words that was like music to mihya’s ears.

he swallowed, tears stinging his own eyes. “to where…?”

“japan. apparently it’s supposed to be a safer environment there or something like that. i have to learn the language and the customs and everything.” you sniffled. “but i don’t want to. i don’t want to leave everything i know. but i mostly don’t want to leave you, mihya.”

mihya wanted to go to your family and interrogate them and to beg them to let you stay. he couldn’t live without you, he wouldn’t be able to survive without the light of his life. you would leave and forget him within a month or two because you have all new friends, and he’ll just be another piece of your forgotten childhood. but you would still be his whole life; you were his first friend, his only real friend.

the only person who he will ever love and the only person who will ever love him.

“right. got it.” mihya replied, his throat dry.

two weeks later, mihya became subhuman piece of shit again.

however, at fifteen, the subhuman was arrested and eventually scouted.

subhuman became kaiser.

at nineteen, kaiser traveled to japan to participate in the still fairly recent blue lock program. although he was interested in blue lock’s new rising player isagi yoichi, he wondered if he could coincidentally see you.

nothing was impossible, after all.

—

for the past five years, you’ve been lonely.

the language barrier was resolved within three years of hard work, but unknown customs and a personality that didn’t match the japanese status quo just made everything worse. for years, you had no friends, you spent lunchtime alone, and worst of all?

you didn’t have mihya in your life.

there were nights when you felt so alone that you would just curl up with your pillow and remember mihya. your mihya. those beautiful seven years spent with him, years that you will never forget.

there was a night where you forgot what he looked like.

panicked and crying, you had opened up your phone immediately too look at a picture of him. after a few minutes of staring, your tears stopped as you memorized his face once more. you never wanted to forget him, not a single bit.

at nineteen and in desperation of college credit and money, you volunteered to be a manager of the blue lock program. ego jinpachi was a strange man, but everything was worth it for the money.

and you couldn’t help but think of your mihya, who you remembered bought a soccer ball for his twelfth birthday and adored it.

for years, you’ve refused to check soccer news out of heartbreak.

after blue lock won against the japanese u20 team, you were given a two week break, and was afterwards immediately shoved into the hell of the neo egoist league.

responsible for helping bastard münchen (“for it’s undeniable potential” said ego, although you really couldn’t care less.), you had walked to the germany wing expecting to have the rest the next few months surrounded by the company of isagi, kurona, yukimiya, hiori, and the others.

and yet when you entered, the first thing you saw was pale blonde hair.

the same that mihya had.

kaiser turned to you, as did the other blue lockers and bastard münchen members.

and finally, kaiser became mihya again.

BASED OFF OF THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “seven”

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hellaur, i just thought about something random, so daughter!reader is baby to toddler age, driver has to bring them to media day since their significant other has other agendas. so while on an interview or a press conference d!r just babbles or just calls out other drivers when she sees them pass by, to the point some interviewers ask her questions so that she can "answer" them

(idk who the driver is but you can pick on who it is)

Papá’s Little Sunshine

Media day was always busy. Reporters, flashing cameras, and the constant buzz of conversation filled the air as drivers moved through the paddock. But today, Carlos wasn’t walking in alone. Today, he had his 17-month-old daughter, Yn, nestled securely in his arms.

Rebecca had left early that morning for a model shoot in Milan, her goodbye kiss lingering on his cheek as she gave him one last serious look.

"Are you sure you don’t want my parents to watch her?" she’d asked, her voice soft but concerned.

Carlos shook his head immediately, his arms already wrapped around Yn’s tiny frame. "No. She’ll be fine with me. I want her to see the paddock, to see my car."

Rebecca sighed, brushing a stray curl from Yn’s forehead. "Just… be careful, okay? You know how the media can be."

"I’ll be careful," he promised, placing a kiss on Yn’s temple. "We’ll be fine, won’t we, princesa?"

Yn, still drowsy from her morning nap, had simply snuggled closer to her father’s chest, her thumb resting near her mouth.

Now, as Carlos stepped into the bustling Williams garage, he felt a wave of pride wash over him. Yn’s small hands clung to his shirt as her wide, curious eyes took in everything—the colorful cars, the people bustling around, and the soft hum of machinery.

"Carlos!" His media manager, a cheerful woman with a headset perched on her blonde curls, approached him with a smile. Her gaze softened when she spotted Yn in his arms. "And who is this little angel?"

"My daughter, Yn," Carlos said, his voice warm as he adjusted her slightly in his arms. "Rebecca’s away today, so she’s hanging out with me."

The media manager’s smile grew. "Would you like me to hold her while you do your interviews?"

Carlos shook his head without hesitation. "No, she’s fine with me." He looked down at Yn, who was now happily chewing on her chubby fingers. "Aren’t you, princesa?"

Yn’s face brightened at her father’s voice, and she let out a soft, contented babble, leaning her head against his shoulder.

The first few interviews went smoothly. Carlos answered questions about the car’s upgrades, his hopes for the upcoming race, and his thoughts on the competition. All the while, Yn remained perched happily in his arms. She wasn’t the least bit fussy—if anything, she seemed fascinated by the boom microphones and cameras pointing at them.

At one point, she reached for the microphone in Carlos’s hand, her tiny fingers wrapping around the black foam.

"Ah, you want to answer the questions now?" Carlos chuckled, pulling the mic just out of her reach. "I think she has her own opinions already."

The reporters laughed softly, clearly charmed by the sight of the stoic driver cradling his daughter so gently.

Halfway through another question, a familiar voice called out from across the media pen.

"Is that my favorite girl I see?"

Carlos turned, his face breaking into a smile as Charles strolled over, already reaching out. Yn’s head snapped up at the sound of her uncle’s voice, and she immediately stretched her arms toward him.

"Cha!" she squealed, her excitement making Carlos chuckle as he carefully handed her over.

Charles took her effortlessly, settling her on his hip as he brushed a soft hand through her dark curls. "How’s my petite cœur, hmm?" he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Yn babbled something incoherent, her chubby hands patting his chest as if she had something very important to tell him.

"You’re so lucky, you know," Charles said to Carlos, though his attention remained fully on the little girl. "I’d take her over media duties any day."

Carlos laughed, shaking his head. "I know. She makes everything better."

A few minutes later, as Charles handed Yn back, other drivers began filtering through the media pen. Every time someone passed by, Yn would lift her little hand and wave enthusiastically.

"She’s got better paddock manners than some of us," Carlos joked to a reporter, watching as Oscar waved back with a soft smile.

But the real chaos began when Lando arrived.

"Ayyyyy! There’s my girl!" Lando’s voice rang out as he practically skipped toward them, hands outstretched. "Come here, darling! Your favorite uncle’s here!"

Carlos rolled his eyes playfully but didn’t stop Yn from lunging toward her godfather. Lando scooped her up effortlessly, settling her against his chest as she babbled a stream of Spanish gibberish.

Lando nodded along seriously, despite clearly having no idea what she was saying. "Mm-hmm. Oh, really? Girl, no way. That’s wild, Yn," he said, his face a mask of exaggerated seriousness.

Carlos shook his head fondly. "She’s telling you all her secrets, man."

"I’m honored," Lando grinned, bouncing Yn gently. "We have a special bond. Right, darling?"

Yn responded by grabbing his nose, making everyone around them laugh.

The interviewer—an older woman with kind eyes—decided to join in the fun. She lowered her microphone to Yn’s level. "Yn, sweetheart, do you have any predictions for the race this weekend?"

Yn stared at the microphone for a moment before glancing up at her father, a mischievous glint in her bright eyes. Then, with a happy squeal, she leaned forward and attempted to "eat" the microphone.

Carlos let out a loud laugh, shaking his head as he took her back into his arms. "No, mi amor, that’s not food," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The laughter around them swelled as Yn giggled happily, snuggling back into her father’s arms as if she hadn’t just stolen everyone’s hearts.

"You’re gonna have to bring her every weekend," Lando joked, hands on his hips. "I swear, the whole paddock is ten times happier right now."

Carlos smiled softly, adjusting Yn’s position as she yawned against his shoulder. "Maybe I will," he said, his voice warm. "As long as her mamá lets me."

And as he walked away to finish the rest of his media duties, Carlos couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world—with his bright little sunshine lighting up every step.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[thesuperiorrobin]

Safe space~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem!Crush!Reader

Warnings: none

Damian needed to get out of the house.

Immediately.

Somehow, everybody seemed to be pushing his buttons just right, from the way Jason would just come in unannounced and eat the food while chewing loudly, Dick trying to invade his personal space while completely yelling in his ear, and when Tim would enter a room he was in he would get this annoyed and ticked off feeling that just had him puffing and glaring at the tired man. He needed to leave the manor or else the entire building would be ashes on the ground in the next ten minutes. Bruce was nowhere to be seen and Alfred was doing his own little thing in the kitchen, probably feeding a very hungry Jason.

Damian hides himself in a black car that belonged to his father, a nice old Aston Martin DBS and as he sits in the driver's seat with his phone in his hands he can only stare at the screen, thumbs typing away.

Damian: are you awake?

His eyes glance up at the time on his phone, reading 10:37 pm. He hopes you’re awake, considering it’s a school night after all. He waits for a response, three minutes go by and his phone vibrates in his hands.

You: yeah was literally about to go to bed and rote until 3 am.

You: why? Wanna play Roblox?

You: see I told you it wasn’t so bad. Now I got you addicted 🙄🤚

Damian rolls his eyes at his screencast shaking his head as he starts to type. On your side of the screen, you can see the bubble disappear and appear, for a solid minute before he finally sends the message.

Damian: if you are not busy, I would like for you to accompany me.

You: YAY ROADTRIP😩

You: where we going?

You: also I’m like broke .38 cents isn’t really going get me anything.

Damian: Anywhere. I just need to get out of the house to take a breather and don’t worry about it, whatever you need I’ll get it for you.

You: you okay? Did something happen?

Damian: No. Just be ready when I get there.

You: okay😑

He really hates that stupid emoji.

You’re running out the door when you get the ‘I’m here’ message from him and Damian watches as you almost miss a step and trip over your own feet. You make it into his car in one piece and buckle yourself in.

Damian can see that you were getting ready to lay in bed, entering his car with your hair out of your face, all cozied up with warm black pants that had kuromis imprinted all over, and a black zip-up sweater that’s keeping you warm.

“Helloooo~” you breathe out, placing your tote bag on your lap as you glance at Damian “So where we going?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah….but I wanna skip the meal and go straight for the dessert!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you shrug “we got free will, why not use it”

This is where you were now, in the car as your choice of music plays softly, after Damian so kindly gave you the Aux after complaining about his music taste for a solid minute. Your seat is, moved back giving you room to get comfortable as you face Damian with your leg bent over the other.

You seem to be yapping away with the milkshake in hand as you wave it around slightly and he listens, eating away at his ice cream cone as he watches your every move.

Damian feels at ease, relaxing up against his seat as he glances at you—eyeing every feature on your face. From every eyelash to every acne scar to every birthmark to the smile lines that grace your face. He’s memorized them by now. You feel his eyes on you, and as you glance up to stare up at him he looks away shyly.

Clearly out of character for him.

“Is there something on my face?” you question as your arms reach out to pull down the car's visor, seeing as it had a little mirror to look at with little lights to see in the dark “Do I have whipped cream on me?”

“No… just thinking” he breathes out, eyes fixed out ahead of him.

You hum, eyes never leaving the visor as you answer back “Does that have anything to do with why you wanted to get out of the house tonight?”

He doesn’t answer instead, he takes a glance back at you. You’re staring back at him with a questionable look, visor now put back up. He takes a look at your hand, fingernails shining in the moonlight.

“Did you get your nails done?” He’s quick with the topic change, seeing as you glance down to show him but you retreat your hand back with a glare.

“Don’t change the subject!”

It takes hums a moment to answer before sighing “It was nothing serious….every little thing my brothers did irritate me”

“Ah…sibling irritation” you let out a breathy laugh “I get it, your brothers can be a handful sometimes”

At least you get him, others really wouldn’t, and his father sometimes doesn’t. It’s not like he had any siblings growing up anyway. Sometimes people would disagree with him, but you seem to agree with everything he says even if he’s wrong, which is rare, but you still do anyway.

Sooner or later the conversation seems to shift from a different topic to another different topic—and it seems like the cycle continues for hours.

He likes this.

You aren’t loud, you aren’t slurping away at your drink and your presence doesn’t seem to annoy him at all.

Yeah, he enjoys your presence more than anyone he knows.

and as he finishes the last of his ice cream he clutches his head, groaning as he hears you laugh.

“Brain freeze dumbass”

He starts to laugh too, and now the car is filled with your giggles and his breathy laughs.

Yeah…. You’re his little safe space and he’ll do anything to protect it.

Was literally supposed to post something for Valentine’s Day but I ended up getting the flu plus strep throat and an ear infection all at once so I couldn’t write it 😕.

[amoressb]

───── STRAWBERRY KISSES 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ how even the simplest things like a bowl of strawberries can hold the sweetest memories ｡｡ idolbf!riki x reader .

FLUFF & wc. 1000 + ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki sat at the end of the table, lazily twirling a bright red strawberry between his fingers. the rest of enhypen was gathered around him, their usual chaotic energy filling the room as the livestream continued. comments flooded the chat, hearts fluttering across the screen like confetti as fans eagerly interacted with their favorite idols.

the group had been live for almost an hour, answering questions, playing games, and teasing each other as they always did. but lately, the fans had noticed something peculiar…riki seemed distracted. he wasn’t as hyper as usual, his usual playful antics subdued as he occasionally glanced down at the bowl of strawberries sitting in front of him.

“riki, you good?” jungwon asked, nudging him with his elbow. “you’ve been staring at that strawberry for like five minutes.”

riki blinked, realizing he’d been spacing out. he let out a soft chuckle, adjusting his posture. “yeah, i’m fine,” he mumbled, rolling the strawberry between his fingers again.

the fans, sharp as ever, picked up on it immediately. the comments exploded :

“why does ni-ki look so lovestruck?”

“he’s thinking about something…or someone.”

“wait, does this have to do with strawberries???”

jay, ever the instigator, leaned in with a smirk. “let me guess, someone special likes strawberries?” rikis lips twitched, betraying a smile before he could stop it. the rest of the members erupted into knowing laughter.

“oh, he’s done for,” heeseung laughed, pointing at him. “riki, man, you’re too obvious.” riki shook his head but didn’t deny it. instead, he finally lifted the strawberry to his lips, taking a slow bite as the chat exploded with emojis and frantic guesses.

sunghoon, raising an eyebrow, decided to push further. “so, are you saying you only eat strawberries now because of her?” the room quieted for a second, then riki, still chewing, shrugged and casually said, “maybe.” the members lost it.

“CONFIRMED!” jake shouted, pointing at the camera. “he’s whipped!”

“riki, this is a public livestream!” jungwon stifled a laugh, burying his face in his hands. “think of your image!”

riki only laughed, feeling warmth creep up his neck. he wasn’t usually this open about your relationship, but something about today made him feel bold. maybe it was because he missed you.

the chat continued to spiral into chaos :

“is he talking about his girlfriend??”

“ni-ki is literally in love and we are witnessing it live.”

“THE WAY HE’S SMILING SOMEONE HELP.”

sunoo, ever the curious one, decided to dig even deeper. “so, how did this strawberry obsession start, huh?” riki glanced down at the half eaten strawberry in his hand, thinking back to the moment everything changed.

“it’s because of her,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “she loves strawberries. always eats them, always tries to make me eat them. at first, i didn’t really care, but…” he trailed off, his lips curving into the kind of smile that made his members groan in secondhand embarrassment.

“but what?” jay prodded. riki looked straight into the camera, his dark eyes gleaming. “but she said they taste better when they’re shared.”

the members erupted in dramatic shrieks, some clutching their chests like they’d been physically wounded. “ENOUGH.” jake dramatically stood up, pointing at riki. “take him off the livestream. he’s too far gone.”

heeseung pretended to wipe away tears. “our riki…he’s in love.”

“gross,” sunghoon muttered, but he was grinning.

riki just shook his head, amused by their antics. then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated beside him. he glanced down and sure enough, there was a message from you.

“caught you talking about me, didn’t i? i’ll bring strawberries later, be ready.”

his heart did that stupid fluttering thing again. trying to act casual, he set his phone down and returned his attention to the camera. but anyone paying close attention, especially you, would notice the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“i’ll be waiting,” he murmured before popping another strawberry into his mouth. the chat went absolutely wild.

———————

the dorm was quieter now. after ending the livestream, the members had all gone their separate ways. some showering, some playing games, some already asleep.

riki, however, was waiting. finally, there was a knock at the door. he didn’t even hesitate before opening it and there you stood, a small bag in one hand and a mischievous smile on your lips. “delivery for mr.strawberry lover.”

riki scoffed, but his grin was impossible to hide. “you saw the livestream, didn’t you?”

“oh, i did.” you held up the bag, rustling it lightly. “and as promised, i brought strawberries.”

he stepped aside to let you in, watching as you plopped down onto his bed, pulling out the container of fresh strawberries. you grabbed one, holding it up to his lips. “since they taste better when shared, right?”

rikis lips twitched as he leaned forward, taking a slow bite. the sweetness bursted on his tongue, but all he could focus on was the way you were looking at him.

“you’re really making me soft,” he mumbled, swallowing. you grinned, “i know.” rolling his eyes, he grabbed a strawberry and held it up to your lips in return. you took a bite, chewing happily as riki watched you with an amused smile.

then, out of nowhere, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. you blinked. “what was that for?” riki shrugged, biting into another strawberry. “you had juice on your face.”

“uh huh,” you said, unconvinced. but before you could tease him, he kissed your other cheek, then your nose, then your forehead.

“riki,” you giggled, lightly pushing his chest. “what are you doing?”

he only grinned, swallowing the last bit of strawberry before his eyes darkened playfully. “making sure you know that strawberries taste better like this.” and then, before you could react, he kissed you on the lips.

it was soft at first, sweet, just like the fruit still lingering on his tongue. but then, as your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, he deepened the kiss slightly, letting himself savor the moment.

when he pulled back, you were smiling. “okay, i’ll admit. that might be the best way to eat strawberries.” riki chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “told you.”

and with that, he popped another strawberry into his mouth. this time, not because of the fruit itself, but because it reminded him of you.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean

[cowboybeepboop]

Sweetness

"I care about you, more than I probably should."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: You finally find out the real reason behind Bob’s protective side. 

a/n: I saw Thunderbolts* yesterday, and I’m craving more of Lewis Pullman 😛😩

This team gets on your nerves, whether it’s Hangman’s cocky asshole attitude or Roosters constant issues with Mav. Somehow you’re always getting in the middle of something and you’re tired of these damn pushups. 

Bob is your weapons systems officer. He’s sweet and nothing but kind when it comes to you. It’s frustrating, though, because you know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but you don’t need him to stick up for you. 

It feels like he pities you, he challenges hangman when he says asshole things, he defends your choices when Mav questions you. He just doesn’t understand that you can speak for yourself. 

These dog-fights with Maverick have almost been the death of you. Maybe you’re an overachiever, but you’ve never needed to keep redoing and redoing exercises. It’s never been an issue for you to work in a team, but Hangman refuses to. 

“Fuck!” you slam your hand against the dash of the plane, tears building in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you sigh away the anger, letting your head fall back against the seat. Bob tenses in the seat behind you as you land the plane. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” his voice rings out, bringing you back into reality. 

“Yep. Let’s just get this over with.” Your tone is more firm than usual, irritation filling your veins as you exit the vehicle. 

Hangman begins spewing his usual bullshit, cockiness radiating off him even though you just lost. Bob argues with Hangman in the background as you ignore them, getting ready to get those damn pushups out of the way.

The only thing you need right now is an ice-cold shower and whiskey on the rocks. You’re pulling your uniform off your shoulders while walking toward the bar, Bob is hot on your heels, along with Rooster and FanBoy. 

“How’s it goin’?” Bradley wraps an arm around your shoulder, the familiarity of his touch doing little to ease your annoyance. You shift out of his embrace, not wanting to talk to anyone. 

Bob and Rooster make eye contact, shrugging as they notice your strange mood. “You got this one, Bob?” he nods in response, following after you once again. 

“Y/N?” he settles down next to you at the bar, shifting his weight as you stare down at the counter. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” You ignore him, taking down your drink in one gulp. 

“I’m alright, Bob, just.. Annoyed.” you sigh, glancing at him slightly. He nods in response, fingers fumbling with his beer bottle. 

“Did-” he begins before you cut him off.

“We were so close, Bob!” your tone is laced with irritation, “We almost got him and then you got, distracted.” You roll your eyes, sliding the glass to the side. 

“I know.. I know and I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have needed to do all those pushups because of my-” you glare at him, everything he does just annoys you, he’s so nice even when you don’t deserve it. 

“Why do you take the blame for every little thing?” Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you’re hot, irritated, and red hot. “Leave it alone, Bob.” You storm out, admittedly a little childish, but you need the fresh air. 

Sitting down on the porch, you breathe in the scent of sea water, the wood creaks under a pair of boots next to you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to do anything to frustrate you.” his tone is the same soft and gentle one per usual. “If I can do anything, say anything, get you anything, please just let me know. I wanna help, we’re a pair, Y/N,” he says, settling down next to you cautiously. 

“Bob, you’re annoying me.” You groan, hating the butterflies in your stomach, and his heart drops as he straightens up. Your words sting him a little more than intended, and you see it in his demeanor. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that..” you trail off chewing on your lip while watching him fumble with his hands.” I didn’t mean to, you dont deserve that, it’s just frustrating to have you constantly siding with me, being so nice, and sticking up for me.” you groan.

“I know you mean well, but I can fight my own battles Bob.” you sigh, shifting uncomfortably as you look him over. 

Bob looks down at his hands, the sound of his fingers cracking fills the air as he processes your words. He hates your irritation being directed at him, but he knows you’re right. He’s been a little overprotective lately, and you’re feeling chafed by his kindness. It’s not what he wanted.

“It’s just…” Bob pauses, his mind struggling to find the right words. “It’s not about thinking you can’t fight your own battles. I mean, I know you can.” Bob leans back, resting his head against a pole.

“I know we’re a team, but we haven’t worked together like this before, not on a mission this important.” you sigh, resting your face in your hands. "I just wish you wouldn't make me look so weak in front of everyone, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I need pity, Bob." You shut your eyes, taking steadying breaths.

Bob's eyes widen slightly, finally being able to grasp what is going on. He's been treating you like you're fragile, and you're getting fed up. It hits him like a truck, and the guilt instantly seeps into his bones.

"I know... I know, you're strong," he says, the shame evident in his voice. "I don't think you're weak, and I *don't* pity you." Bob's fingers twist together, frustration with himself bubbling up within him.

Bob rubs his face, he’s always had a crush on you, ever since he laid eyes on you. For Bob, you’re not just a talented pilot and a teammate, you’re smart, strong-willed, independent, and absolutely gorgeous.

His protective nature stems from the fact that he cares about you, a little more than he should. He’s scared of losing you, of getting you hurt, and it shows in his overprotectiveness and constant apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Bob, I shouldn’t have held this against you. Hangman is the one who left us to fend for our own. It’s not your fault.” You lean closer to him, brushing your shoulder against his. 

Bob's shoulders tense up for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden apology. Your touch, even as simple as your shoulder against his, has his heart beating faster. He relaxes a little, feeling relieved that you're not as irritated with him anymore.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice soft as he relaxes his tense shoulders, he takes a deep breath. "But I still want to apologize for being so overprotective."

“I guess I just don’t understand why you’re so protective when it comes to *me*,” you scan his face, eyes wandering his features. “I know we’re friends outside of work, but.. I just don’t get it.”

Bob's heart leaps into his throat, his mind racing with nerves. This is the moment, the one he’s been scared of for the past few months. He’s always liked you, but he’s kept it to himself because of his shy nature, and he was afraid of ruining your friendship.

He takes a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he fidgets with them."I…uhh"  Bob struggles to find the right words, the truth on the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah?" you question, scooting closer to him, basking in the gentle heat of his body.

Bob's heart pounds in his chest, his cheeks heating up from your close proximity. He can smell your perfume, and the closeness makes his knees weak.

"I… I care about you a lot," he manages, his voice shaky, eyes refusing to meet yours. Bob's hands twitch with the nervous energy that courses through him, his fingers clenching into fists and unclenching rhythmically.

"A lot?" Your cheeks turn a slight pink. "In what way, Bob?" 

Bob's words get stuck in his throat, his breath hitches as he looks up at you, your eyes burning into his soul. He swallows hard, unable to hold your gaze, but at the same time craving it. 

"In every way imaginable," he breathes out, his heart pounding against his ribcage, "I care about you, more than I probably should." This is it, all or nothing, he can't back out now.

You take in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on everything but him as his words echo in your mind.

Bob watches your face, his heart in his throat as he waits for your response. The silence between you both is loud, making him almost sick to his stomach as he waits for your reaction. He’s so desperate to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, but your expression is unreadable.

"Please say something," he mutters softly, his hand twitching to reach out and touch you, but his fear stops him.

You clear your throat, standing up and stretching, and your heart is racing in your chest. Being with Bob, it's what you want, but what if it changes things or makes both of you unable to go on the mission? Your mind is reeling, and you begin to pace. 

Bob follows your movements with his gaze, your nervous behavior making his heart ache. He knows he messed up, he should have kept his stupid feelings to himself. Now he's just made everything awkward.

With you moving around so much, unable to sit still, he stands up as well, worry etched across his face. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't-" his voice is trembling as he tries to apologize, but you simply start pacing.

You shake your head, "You don't need to apologize, Bob." Turning back to him, you take a few steps until you're right in front of him again. 

Bob stands still, his heart practically beating out of his chest, as you walk closer to him. Your proximity takes his breath away, and he can’t tear his eyes off your face. All he can focus on is your every move, the way your lips are slightly parted, and how your cheeks are tinged pink.

He has to fight the urge to pull you into his arms and hold you close, but the nervousness in his veins keeps him rooted to the spot. "Y/N..” he breathes out, his voice low and unsteady.

"Bob," you whisper, "Please.." Your words, your simple plea, are all it takes for Bob to snap. His brain short-circuits as every thought about consequences and missions leaves his mind, replaced with one sole desire. *You.*

In the blink of an eye, his hands find your waist, and in another, he's pulling you flush against him. His lips crash into yours with a desperate need, as every pent-up feeling, every piece of suppressed desire is unleashed.

Your hands reach up to his face, gripping his face as you pull him closer, desperate for more. 

Bob is completely lost in the moment, his hands exploring your waist, your back, your face, trying to touch every inch of you. Your touch ignites something within him, and his kiss deepens as he presses his body against yours.

He pushes you backward until your back hits a wall, his hands gripping your hips as he cages you against the surface, his kiss still feverish, hungry, desperate.

You pull away reluctantly, gasping in a few breaths before speaking. "Bob, we need to go.. I *need* you," you whisper, kissing his face and neck. Bob lets out a soft groan at your words, the feeling of your kisses sending tremors through him, the need in your voice making his knees weak. 

"Go... where?" he breathes out, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, afraid that if he lets go of you, you'll disappear. He wants you badly, the mission forgotten in a haze of desire.

"I have a place," you practically moan, enjoying the desperation in his touch. All coherent thoughts leave Bob's mind as your moan is like music to his ears. He practically whimpers against your touch, the need for you nearly overwhelming.

"Lead the way," he mutters, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your neck before reluctantly releasing his grip. Even though he's letting go of you, his hand takes yours, unwilling to lose physical contact.

With your hand in his, Bob follows you to the secluded spot you've chosen, his heart racing in anticipation. The gentle squeeze of your hand reassures him that this is what you want, too. Once you're both inside, the door clicks shut, and the tension in the room thickens. 

You turn to face him, the hunger in your eyes matching his own. His hands trace the curve of your waist, pulling you closer as your mouths find each other again in a passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless. 

With no more words needed, you both stumble over to the bed, the need for each other overwhelming. Bob gently lays you down, his eyes never leaving yours as he starts to unbutton your shirt. His touch is reverent, his every move filled with a passion that has been building for so long. 

You help him, pulling his shirt off over his head, feeling the warmth of his bare skin against yours. As the fabric of your clothes falls away, Bob’s eyes roam over your bare skin, tracing every curve and dip with a hunger that’s been building. 

His hands rough yet gentle, his kisses leaving a trail of fire down your neck as he unclasps your bra. The coolness of the air meets your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine. He worships your body, his hands exploring every inch with a passion that leaves you trembling with anticipation. 

The feel of his bare chest against yours is electric, his skin smooth and warm as he kisses his way down to your stomach. You gasp as his fingers find their way under the band of your pants, unbuttoning them with trembling hands. The touch of his skin against yours sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch into his touch. 

His eyes meet yours, questioning, and when you nod, he pulls your pants down, exposing you to his hungry gaze. His eyes widen with awe, his breath hitching as he takes in the sight of you, fully exposed and desiring him. 

His thumb brushes against your inner thigh, sending a rush of heat to your core, making you whimper. His touch is soft yet demanding as he explores you, his eyes never leaving yours, drinking in every reaction you give him. 

You're both lost in the moment, the only sound in the room being the ragged breaths and soft moans that escape your lips. Bob leans in, his mouth replacing his fingers, and your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure. 

His name becomes a chant on your lips as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your legs wrapping around his head as you pull him deeper into your warmth. The intensity of the moment reaches its peak as Bob's tongue meets your center, his strokes firm and precise. 

You moan deeply, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the pleasure builds. He's relentless, his every move calculated to push you closer to the edge. His hands are everywhere, caressing your breasts, teasing your nipples until they're peaked and sensitive. 

The sound of your breathy pleas and the wetness of your desire driving him wild. He can't get enough of you, can't get close enough. You're soaking wet for him, and the scent of your arousal fills the air, making him crave you even more. His mouth is a masterpiece of pleasure, teasing and sucking, swirling and flicking, until you're panting his name and your body is tightening around his tongue. 

You're close, so close, and just when you think you can't handle it anymore, he slides a finger inside you, the pressure inside you building until it snaps. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, making your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. 

You scream out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Bob pulls away, his face flushed and his eyes dark with lust, as he watches the aftershocks of your climax ripple through your body. He quickly removes his pants, his cock standing at full attention. The sight of him sends a fresh wave of heat through you, making you ache for him. 

He positions himself over you, and with one swift thrust, he's inside, filling you completely. Your legs wrap around him as he begins to move, his hips pumping in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. 

The feeling is indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain, of need and satisfaction, as he stretches and fills you over and over again. Your eyes lock onto his, and it's as if you're seeing him for the first time, really seeing the depth of his feelings for you, the desire and love that he's been hiding.

The friction is perfect, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with every movement. You rock your hips up to meet his, desperate to get even closer. His hands are everywhere, holding you down, caressing you, making sure you feel every inch of him. 

Your bodies move in a dance that's been choreographed by months of tension and unspoken desires. Each stroke is a promise, each touch a declaration of his feelings.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another deep kiss, your tongues tangling as your bodies move together in perfect sync. The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mixing with the desperate moans and gasps that escape both of your mouths. Bob's pace quickens, driven by the passion that fuels him, and you can feel him getting closer to his release.

You're so lost in the sensation that you don't even notice when the second orgasm starts to build, creeping up on you like a thief in the night. It takes you by surprise, stealing your breath away as it crashes over you, making your body tighten around him. Bob groans into your mouth, his release following closely behind, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his warmth.

You collapse onto the bed, your bodies still entwined, hearts racing, and skin slick with sweat. The room is silent except for the sound of your panting breaths, both of you trying to come down from the high of finally giving in to the passion that's been burning between you. The weight of his body on top of yours is comforting, grounding, as you bask in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy.

Bob pulls out gently, collapsing beside you, and you roll over to face him, your eyes searching his for any signs of regret. But all you see is love and satisfaction, mirroring your own emotions. You reach out, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and he smiles at you, the tension of the day forgotten as you both drift into a contented silence, the kind that comes from knowing you've found something real in a world full of danger and uncertainty.

Bob's mind is spinning as he shifts to lie there next to you, completely stunned by the intensity of what just happened. His fingers gently trace patterns on your skin, a soft smile playing on his lips as he takes in the blissful expression on your face. Every nerve ending in his body is buzzing, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through him.

"That was..." he finally manages to breathe out, his voice thick with emotion, "That was amazing." Bob's heart still races, his head reeling from the intensity of the connection between you both.

You nod breathlessly, resting your face on his chest, cuddling close against him.