#stamp with business name

[businessstamp]

Benefits of using personalized rubber stamps at work

A rubber stamp is a tool which includes an imprint of text or design which can be user-friendly as a company logo or phrase. It creates beautiful and legible graphics with its easy to use technology. The stamps are made from superior quality rubber which ensures clear impressions and longer lasting prints. With the Personalized Rubber Stamp, you can customize your company logo, add in details like address and contact numbers so that it’s easier for your customers to identify you. Features: -premium rubber construction -customized designs available -easy to use technology Benefits: -the customized designs help make printed items look more professional and official -creates neat, clear lines for documents and forms -rubber material allows for long lasting life of the stamp

[darabeatha]

ANYWAYS, HAVE U GUYS SEEN THIS????

[mushpotaeto]

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ୨୧  Sticker stamps preview  ୨୧

Order form • 🗓️ JUNE 4 - 25 Preorder ⟡

↳ https://forms.gle/dgXRR22izW7svnTP7  🪷🌿

WE SHIP WORLDWIDE 🌏

Currency in Philippine peso 🇵🇭

[allstickerprinting]

Gold Foil Stamp Business Card

[fazcinatingblog]

Oh it's 10pm I should get some sleep so that my boss doesn't yell "did you have a late night last night?????" at me tomorrow

[fruithoughts]

  In this world there are a couple of absolute truths; the sun will explode someday, the water is wet, capitalism is a demon and of course, Yoon Jeonghan is madly in love with his best friend.

     CW: agegap(he’s 29 and she’s 23, they met when she was 19 and he was 25), bigdick!Jeonghan, fem!reader, friends to lovers, he’s so condescending but in the sweetest way?? what an asshole omg, one reference to him being a smoker, idiots in love, a lil bit of dom!jeonghan.

It's a classic, from the very first time they met, the bastard already knew he was going to end up in bed with the pretty girl with the coffee colored eyes, she retorted his unfunny jokes even when her red cheeks gave away that she was embarrassed, played along all of his little games just to give him hope that this time she had fallen into the hands of the big bad wolf, she was made just for him.

The special treatment Jeonghan provided her didn't sneak under anyone's noses, it was obvious, the only person other than himself that he allows to win during table games, just one look at him with that curious puppy face is enough to make him melt whole, he’s that weak. The only person he listens to when she tells him to stop cheating in games, that guy would give all of  the stars in the universe to his girl, would fix the ozone layer in 3 business days max if she complained about global warming today.

  "I could live like this" oh, that persisting little thought, always wandering in the man's head while he is around his friend, just waiting for the right moment to invade his frontal lobe and consequently force his heart into beating fast like crazy by making him think about the calm and happy life he could have alongside his love.

    The dreamer thinks and thinks while waiting for his girl to finish brushing her teeth, a silly smile stamped on his rascal face as he stares at the ceiling of her room, ironically, they were watching Friends in her bed, as always; against the will of his girl who insisted that the series was silly and he only liked it because he was old.

  As strange as it can sound, they had already slept in the same bed hundreds of times, most of those times due to Hannie’s habit of refusing not to take her with him everywhere he went, which more than often left them with only one hotel room to share, these nights were the most special, nothing sexual happened, which made them even more intimate.

The pointless conversations before bed, faces a few inches away as they discuss each and every scenario that his favorite girl proposes, "What name would you give your child? What if it was a girl?", "If the world ended and only the two of us were left, where would we go? Would you protect me?" She was always more touchy with him when she was tired, he loved every second of it. They cuddled until the princess fell asleep, her warm breath on his neck drove him wild, he wanted to fill her face with kisses, but he never had the courage, always waiting for the right time.

Now that once again he found himself in his friend's bed, just a month or so before his military service called for him, he wondered if he let the right time pass right by him at some point in the last 4 years, it was his biggest fear. What if the fact that he had hookups here and there over the years made her think he had no interest in her? What if the fact that he kept posting stories and photos with her made her come to the conclusion that he doesn't have romantic feelings for her because he wouldn't risk showing his possible future girlfriend to fans, and only posts things with her exactly because they’re completely platonic? 

With the date of the inevitable farewell between the lovebirds approaching, something had changed, Jeonghan couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was, but things were different. His girl always loved him(just not in the way he desired so much), he always knew that, she, who was always closed off with others; had no problem holding his hand under the blanket while watching movies or laying her head on his shoulder during car trips while Seungcheol screamed at Dokyeom because he took the wrong turn again, these moments felt like little secrets, his pretty flower laughing softly at the car fights while the bastard uses their proximity to draw invisible shapes of hearts and dicks on her bare thigh until he gets his hand slapped away when she inevitably realizes what he was drawing, in they’re little world in the back seat, no one would ever know.

Well, never? Maybe it was the wrong word, especially now that everything has changed. For some reason, his friend suddenly started offering him 3 times the attention he was used to receiving from her, holding his arm while waiting in line at the grocery store, hugging his waist and hiding her face behind his back while waiting for the uber, deliberately holding his hand as they strolled through some parking lot, suddenly her behavior made it obvious to anyone with eyes to see that they were in a romantic relationship, Jeonghan was in heaven.

He wanted to fantasize, to dream, to believe that this change was due to the fact that now that he's going away, she finally realized that she loves him, that she's always loved him and that they should be together, but part of him just can’t get over the possibility that she might have just gotten extra comfortable now that she realized he's going soon, and decided to give him all the attention in the world because she’ll miss his friend.

Things were not going according to plan and it made him nervous, restless... What was the plan? To confess as soon as he was discharged from military service, his group would be on a semi-hiatus for at least two more years after his return due to the younger ones serving, it was the perfect time to develop their relationship, he was sure they would get married early too, after all, for how long do you date after being extremely close for 4 whole years? He knows his princess like the back of his hand and she has him around her little finger, she knows everything, his whole life, all of his habits, allergies, fears and almost all his greatest desires. 

 — Stop thinking about other things while I'm here —  His girl's voice as she enters the room takes Jeonghan out of his train of thoughts, staring at her until she reaches the bed and crawls over to him to go cuddle again. 

— Am I only allowed to think about you? —  he asks, arching one of his eyebrows as soon as he has her in his arms, lying on top of him.  — When you're at my house, yes. —  She replies grumpily and Jeonghan laughs when he feels his torso being squeezed closer to her, draping one arm over his baby’s back, also squeezing her closer before depositing a little kiss on the top of her head, there's nothing this man wouldn't give to have this right here every day.

The conversation comes and goes as usual, they talk about life dramas and gossips from their respective groups of friends, some complaints about annoying and inconvenient people, just as inconvenient as...

— And that little guy you were hooking up with? Did you get tired of him already? — Jeonghan asks as if he hasn't spent the last two weeks brooding with jealousy, just the possibility of that idiot having touched his girl makes him want to rip off his own face with his bare hands. He’s not possessive at all, clearly.

  She huffs before replying — And that makeup artist you were clinging to? How is she? — the tone of the question tone made Jeonghan roll his eyes, he only had a little affair with that woman, a few kisses for a week and they slept together once, no big deal, and obviously it didn't mean anything to him, just like all his hookups never did. The man's distant behavior towards the people he fucked with was always a reason for a fights between them and most of the time it was the reason for the "breakup" of said hookup status, but why would he try to feel anything for any of his fuck buddies when his true love was just around the corner? He was just paving the way.

  — You know it was nothing, it never is — the man feels her little eyes burning through his face as he avoids meeting her vision, he knows where his answer will take him, he hates this part — And when will it start to be something? You're getting old, you know… —  she says teasing the possibility of her friend dying alone, he knows she's joking, but that's no comfort to how much it hurts not to have the courage to just hold her face and take what he spent the last 4 years wishing for so much, Jeonghan is patient, but people can hold on for only so long before snapping.

— And when are you going to start dating? Deceiving those little boys is not very nice on your part —  he received an indignant look from his friend, getting exactly where he wanted, the part where he takes control of the conversation back. It was no new's article that Jeonghan didn't really like anyone's face, the problems were always repeated in one way or another, "He's too young, he won't know how to treat you right.", "Look at the way he talks, I could bet five hundred dollars that this guy gets grossed out by the idea of eating pussy, he's just a little boy.", "Beautiful, look at the things this guy posts, he doesn't even know how to talk like a normal person and do you think he'll know how to fuck you?".

It wasn't exactly hard to figure out that Jeonghan doesn't approve of the possibility of his dear and beloved friend being a guy the same age as her, they are immature and gangly, they don't know how to do it the same way he does, they don't have the time and money to be able to take care of her like he can.

The silence coming from his petal makes him worried immediately, if that son of a bitch hurt his love’s heart, he doesn't even know what he's capable of doing — What happened, bunny? — he knew she hated the nickname, he called her by it anyway to get her out of her own head, his princess always thought too much, and he, as her perfect match, knew exactly how to bring her back to the real world.

She sighed before shyly admitting — You were right… —  he felt a wave of satisfaction run through his entire body, he loved it when his theories about the girl's hookups ended up being accurate — What was Hannie right about, hm? Tell me. —  he received a slap on his arm and could tell just from her breathing that his pretty little thing was sulking like never before.

  — He didn't even know how to hold a conversation! He didn't talk about anything worthwhile, he didn't have anything to do with life, he was a bore! — she vented, obviously it was something that had been bothering her for a long time, and who wouldn't be bothered when it's impossible to find a nice guy? Nobody had an interesting back and forth, a way of talking that made her all soft, a way of being that was all unique and special, there was no one like that. There was no one like him.

Jeonghan saw life pass before his eyes, the hand that was on the girl's back unconsciously squeezed her waist a little harder, with his eyes still fixed on the ceiling, for a moment he really considered that he was finally going insane, would she ever notice? Was that what they were going to be for the rest of their lives?

Friends who run into each other's arms to receive the affection and love many couples out there can't dream of having for each other while complaining that they can't find the "right person"? Would she ever really find someone who matched her? Someone who isn't him? Someone who doesn't deserve his girl at all, someone who hasn't spent literal years learning all the little details and parts of her life and worked so hard to be the best friend she could ever have, someone who doesn't love her the same way he does, someone who won't know how to make her cum as good as she deserves, someone who… — Jeonghan? — like the devil, that sweet, sweet voice calls to him, and by this point, he's been starving for quite a while.

— I'd make you the happiest woman in the world if you’d let me —  the words lingered in the air for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, he felt his doll's heart start to act as if she had just run a marathon, the strong beats against his chest seemed to mimic the beating of his own heart, which she surely felt too. He didn't even realize when exactly he closed his eyes out of pure fear of having ruined everything, he also didn't dare to open them when he felt her moving around on top of him, when he thought he couldn't stand to stay there any longer without running. 

He felt the sweetest kiss this universe has ever dared create, immediately his hands went to his... friend’s? Face,  kissing her back fervently, Jeonghan could cry if he didn't have so much adrenaline in his body after confession, the position was already perfect, they were grabbing and pulling and rubbing on each other for so long, maybe twenty minutes? Maybe two hours? Four days? It was hard to discern silly things like the time when he finally had his girl exactly where he had always wanted her.

— I don't want you to go, Jeongie... —  she confessed breathlessly, holding onto collar of the baggy shirt the man wore as if he was going to disappear as soon as she let go, those shiny little eyes were capable of making him fight 9 wars, weed 5 batches, discover the cure for 13 diseases, achieve anything that could possibly make her stay with him forever.

— I know, I know, my love —  he laid her on the bed with all of the care in the world, only to then, like an addict, go back to enjoying his girl's delicious mouth while he tested the territory by caressing the soft skin of her waist and belly under her pajama top — Do you love Hannie? Do you not want him to leave? — Yoon Jeonghan was worse than any whore, he wants to hear that he wasn't the only one who’s obsessed, that he's not the only one who spent the last 4 years losing nights of sleep and wasting who knows how much bath water while thinking about his best friend.

He feels his princess's warm little hands begin to explore his torso, scratching his chest and waist, sinking her sharp nails into the skin of his shoulders and the sides of his abdomen so, so deliciously, if he was a little less patient he would have already given up doing things slowly — Wait for it, you'll how learn to be patient, bunny.  — Jeonghan commanded firmly when he felt his pants being pulled down little by little. His girl would be lying if she said she wasn't dying to give in, the bulge in his pants was more than enough to scare her off, but she knew her Hannie would never hurt her — You'll wait for me to fuck you when you’re ready to take it, without complaining, gonna be good to me. 

The prep was long, this man didn't rest until he made his little doll cum in his mouth, then with his long and precise fingers, then with the both, he paused between the three of them so he wouldn’t overwhelm his sweet girl, he did everything to make her as open up as much possible but it would still take time to be able to fuck hard when he entered her little heaven, he was at peace with it, in fact, he was already in paradise just by eating her out. 

The one who wasn't at peace was her, this asshole was too hot for his own good, if she had the strength she would have already ripped off this motherfucker's underwear with her own teeth, unfortunately no one tells you how hard it is to find the strength to be angry with someone after they just gave you the three best orgasms of your life.

  — You look so much happier, baby, just needed someone to treat you the way you like —  his lips and chin glittered with her honey, if they weren't so close, she would probably be ashamed to have gotten so wet, but he deserved it — It impresses me that you didn't suffocate down there, with those black lungs. They must look like two raisins —  she jokes while pulling him by the shirt to get on top of her again, wiping the sweet juice from his chin with her thumb, only to put it directly in her friend's mouth, who happily received the dirty act and sucked her thumb clean.

— I won't even tell you what I'm going to leave looking like a raisin if you don't drop the attitude — he joked right back before kissing her, drunk in love. That was it, everything he ever wanted, just him and his woman locked in the bedroom, smiling like two idiots while making each other feel good, this could last forever, but now he was the one who couldn't wait any longer, all it took was her looking up to him though her eyelashes, giving him the puppy eyes he fell in love with all those years ago, it was all it took for him decided he couldn't take it anymore — Take it off, I'm tired — he says while letting his hands fall to the sides as he knelt on the bed, in front of her, looking down to his pants basically saying "if you want it, then come and get it", this scoundrel is very lucky to have such a beautiful face, otherwise he would have been punched already. 

When the little game and fights were finally over and the time finally came, he entered very slowly, truly enjoying every second of his precious time and honestly, as much as it killed him to see his little princess in pain... Jesus Christ, that expression with her eyebrows tensed up and half-lidded eyes while her red mouth moans his name just so sweetly is a sight dangerous enough to kill anyone. The scene left him all vulnerable, his knees risked failing, his fingers lost strength, and in the end, Jeonghan was a weakling for his girl.

  Her little sounds were all he needed to start moving, extremely slowly, he needed to train her tight little hole to be fucked by a real man — Those little boys really did you wrong, hm? Doesn't feel like you’ve ever been fucked at all — he made a point of speaking as he watched the long drag of his cock into and out of his little angel, hypnotized.

— Shut up, Jeonghan — she said angrily, it was embarrassing to remember that she had been with other people when she could have spent all of this time getting eaten out this good instead. He replied  — “Jeonghan"? Where's Jeongie, Hannie? Do you want me to stop fucking you so you can tell me about this "Jeonghan" guy? — his suggestion was answered with a loud sound of dissatisfaction, and with the little strength she had below her torso, she hugged his waist with her legs to keep him inside. 

  Watching her desperation filled him with all kinds of feelings, just thinking about how good he could fuck her when his princess was used to his size, he could start drooling right there. He sneaks his face into her neck to start another attack, leaving purple and red marks all over his flower’s shoulder, the easing of his thick cock inside her was too good to be true, he couldn't keep his mouth shut — Mine, mine, mine. — he whispered and grunted at her ear lobe. 

Maybe that was just part of having sex with someone you know so well, but he even knew what the attempts of words she moaned meant, he knew she was fighting with him for deciding all on his own that she belonged to him, he knew his stubborn girl too well to not notice — Try disagreeing, go on — he tells her all whiny, imitating the tone of the moans of his now; girlfriend, according to his head — Tell me that you're not mine, that we belong to other people, that this pretty little pussy wasn't made just for me, go on, tell me — clearly the words affected her a lot, if her watery eyes tightening until they closed and her little hole threatening to expel him from being so tight were anything to be go by. He held her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him. — If you're going to lie to me, lie to my fucking face.

She was going insane, he was doing it so, so well, but he was so slow… Even though a little bit pain was still present, fuck it! She was barely holding on from not trembling with desire, she wanted more, she wanted him — Stop treating me like I'm made out of glass, Jeongie! — she tried to sound bossy but the neediness refused to leave the girl’s voice, Jeonghan could have melted right there.

— And you’re not? What’s my doll made out of, then? — he grabbed one of his girl’s delicious thighs firmly,  leaving a hard slap that would definitely leave a mark, it burned like hell and the bastard didn't help at all, he just held the abused meat again  — What’s this, princess? Did it hurt? Are you gonna to cry?  — the condescension seemed to overflow from his mouth just like his girl's juices overflowed from her puffy hole and stained the fluffy bed sheet with each deep thrust, which now, very slowly as to not hurt her, were taking on a faster rhythm that made her head spin. 

Having thoughts that made sense was too much to ask of the poor thing who was getting the biggest cock beating of her life, she barely heard a word that came out of her beloved's mouth, she just stared at his lips, which used to be thin but were now full and red from the intensity of their love, she just wanted to kiss him again, she needed to be a good girl to kiss him again, did he say something? He said it, didn’t he? A... A question... What was it? "What’s this?" — It’s yours, Jeongie — she replied after using all her mental strength available at that moment, which wasn't much.

Jeonghan couldn't help but smile about how stupid he made his bunny — Mhm, it’s just mine, baby — he held her sweaty little face with gentleness that was completely alien if compared to the harshness of which his hips kissed hers. It was so deep, she felt so full, she never wanted it to end, it was too good, she wanted to cry with the fact that she couldn't hold it for much longer. 

— Do you not want me to stop after you finish, princess? —  he asked just so softly, finding it the most precious scene in the world when his flower frantically shook her head, going "No, no, no!", his cutest little thing — Don’t worry, doll, I’ll only stop when you’re dripping with cum.   

[avocado-writing]

hi!! I read your fics and I love your writing style! I was wondering if you could do something with a human reader, maybe she works in a bookshop or she’s a teacher? And it’s all cute because he finds her genuine??? Maybe some angst because she finds herself in danger? Idk sorry I’m rambling I just wanted something with a human reader 🧍🏻‍♀️💐

the place where the pages meet

logan howlett x bookseller!reader

4k words, rated explicit.

cocky!logan; awkward!reader; excessive book references; threat of physical violence (quickly averted); anti-mutant language & sentiments; smut (oral - reader receiving, penetrative sex). minors dni. thank you @saradika-graphics for dividers!

The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, and you suck your breath in through your teeth. It’s fifty-fifty on days like these: either people will seek shelter in your little store, or they’ll scurry away with the fear any purchases they make will get soaked and ruined.

God damn it, what kind of fool opens an independent book shop in New York?

You’re the kind of fool, apparently. Still, it’s your home, both figuratively between all the old paperbacks and literally with your tiny apartment on the top floor. Barely more than a studio, but enough for you. A piece for yourself carved out of this world. 

Outside it starts to pour. You sigh. Well, at least you know you’ll get one visitor today.

Charles, your dear friend and long-time financial supporter of your store, had called earlier to let you know that the usual face wouldn’t be coming to grab his order. It’s a shame, you like Ororo, enjoy sitting and sharing a pot of oolong with her on quiet days. Also she could have chased away this terrible weather for you. Ah well. 

“Who can I expect?” you’d asked. 

Charles had laughed, a warm and friendly sound. 

“Ahh, you’ll know Logan when you see him.”

You don’t know what you’d do without Charles. Between orders of rare books for his personal collections and en-masse copies of classics for the kids, he pretty much keeps this place running for you. Bless that man, honestly, because you’re not sure where you’d be without him. 

The sound of someone pulling up outside has you putting down your book and turning towards the shop window. 

A pickup truck parks up by the kerbside and you watch the man in the driver’s seat emerge into the rain. He cuts a fine figure, tall and strong, but you don’t get a good look at him until he walks through the front door. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome. 

Leather jacket now pocked with raindrops, very obvious white vest beneath it showing off his broad chest. He shakes like a dog to get the moisture out of his hair as he stamps his boots on the doormat, pausing only briefly to scrutinise its no admittance expect on party business slogan. 

“Logan?” you ask. He looks up and when his eyes first meet yours? Oh, a fire is sent down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, looking around to take in the place. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not. He has a remarkably neutral face, careful, the sort of man who doesn’t want to give anything away about himself. 

“You’re… here for Charles’ books?”

He’s sauntering over to the counter now. Cocks an eyebrow. It goes right through you. Fuck. 

“That’d be me.” There’s a beat. “Why, you think someone’d try and steal them?”

“People can steal books!” you say, defensively. 

“People named Logan who you’re clearly expecting?”

You bristle, because he’s got you. Something flickers over his face for a second: a smile. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome and he’s an asshole.

Huffing, you fish the box out from under the desk and groan with effort as you lift it up. Logan takes it from your grasp as if it weighs nothing at all. Your fingers touch as you do. You try to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says, easily.

“Mm. Mind the rain. It’d be a shame if you slipped.”

A proper smile crosses his face then, but he turns away too quickly for you to let it sink in. The bell on the door chimes as he heads back out into the rain.

Well, you hope you never see him again.

By the same time next week, you’re really hoping you see him again.

You’ve sort of not been able to get him out of your mind. He was kinda prickly, sure, but a welcome break from the mundanity of your life, and pretty good looking to boot. It’s probably just a pipe dream. You’re sure it’ll be Ororo again, and you can go back to the easy pattern of seeing your dear friend. That’s okay. You’re fine with it. Who needs a handsome man? You have your books, you have your store, you’re happy.

Yeah. You’re happy. 

Imagine your surprise, then, when you hear a motorbike outside your shop.

You must be blessed with street parking, because Logan pulls up right outside again. Same jacket, same well-worn jeans. He catches your eye through the window and you’re sure they glisten. You pretend to be engrossed in your book but it’s not fooling anyone, the words swim into soup on the page as you see him approach.

The door goes; he approaches the counter. Closer this time, you can smell him. Tobacco and leather. Fuck it’s good.

“You should wear a helmet,” you say, trying to be flippant. Logan lets out a single, solitary note of a chuckle from deep in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and try to hide it by looking for Charles’ order again. It’s a single book, a first edition you had to go through the backwater book depositories to hunt down. You’re the best at what you do, though, so it was no real problem. It’s why he always comes to you.

“Here you go. Let him know I’ll try and find the sequel if he’s interested, too.”

“Sure.”

Once again your fingers touch as you hand the book to Logan. No. No, this is too quick! You want to keep him here for a little while longer. He looks so out of place between the wonky shelves and hanging plants, it’s just perfect.

Your mouth tries to say two things at once: can you tell Charles I’ll have his other order ready same time next week, and, do you like to read often? 

Instead what comes out is, “can you read?”

You must wince when you ask the question, because Logan stands there transfixed. Baffled, just for a second.

“Can I… read?” he repeats slowly. 

I’ve failed you, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop your mouth in time, says your brain.

“I didn’t mean… of course you read… I just… I didn’t want to assume… maybe you didn’t like books… erm…”

“Yeah, I read,” he says softly, as if you are an old dog and he is putting you out of your misery. You fucking wish he would. Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never spoken to another person before.

You can’t find a way to recover this. Your cheeks are on fire. You’re going to explode and burn down your store. Oh authors, you are so sorry for using all these works as kindling.

You expect Logan to turn on his heel and walk out but he… doesn’t. Instead he takes a step back so that he can look at the shelf nearest to the desk. Runs his fingers across the spines before picking one. It’s slim, no more than the width of his finger; he puts it on the counter and fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami. You ring him up, punching the price into your old cash register, give him his change. His palm is soft as you drop coins into it. 

“See you next week,” he says, stashing both his book and Charles’ inside his jacket. 

“Okay,” you say, amazed you’re able to get any words out, and watch him walk away again.

He does see you next week.

The sun’s out, so he’s sans jacket, and oh fuck you can see how his arms are like treetrunks. The way this man has you reacting is unhealthy. You try and focus on the hardback in your hands but all you can picture is those veins which are bulging on his biceps, begging you to come and get to know them better.

“You’re always reading huh?” 

His voice makes you jump a little, you’re not expecting him to be so close. You look up. He slides his sunglasses up into his hair. Fuck it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Would you trust a bookstore owner who didn’t read?” you ask, bristling with the need to defend this little shop and your place in it. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace.

“Not an insult, just an observation.”

You sink back from attack mode, walls still a little high, but definitely coming down.

“How did you get on with the Murakami last week?”

Logan takes a moment to consider this, trying to piece his answer together in a way which won’t offend you.

“I liked it until the last chapter.”

You sit up in your chair. 

“Yes! A lot of people say that. It feels like it ends sort of abruptly, but if you just appreciate it for what it is, it’s a good book.”

He smiles a little as you speak. You fucking love talking about books, to a degree some people find absurd. You don’t want to babble though, so you force yourself to end your observations there.

Logan nods at the book in your hands.

“What are you reading now?”

You lift up your book so he can see the cover: A. S. Byatt’s The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. 

“It’s very good! Byatt has such a wonderful way of writing. I love fairy tales and there’s such a wonderful voice in this one. They made the titular story into a movie a couple of years back, it’s quite good actually, it has Tilda Swinton in it.” You’re floundering. Don’t stray too far from the normal lines of conversation. Mouth, for fuck’s sake stay on course, begs your brain. It doesn’t. Instead you ask, “do you… like Tilda Swinton?”

Logan raises an eyebrow and you know this is a man who has never once had to consider the question of whether or not he likes the actress Tilda Swinton. 

Mouth still talking. MOUTH STILL TALKING, your brain screams. It’s true. It is. You were too busy being horrified to notice.

What your mouth says while being unchaperoned is, “There’s a little single-screen theatre nearby doing a showing of it this week, actually, do you wanna come with?”

DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT. DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT?!

Logan doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He seems just as shocked that you’ve asked as you are. But then, just as you want to cast yourself into the street so that a passing garbage truck might take pity on you and sweep you away, he smiles. It’s slow, but it makes him look so much hotter.

“Sure, why not.”

Oh mouth you genius. I shall never doubt you again.

“Oh, okay, great! Uhh, are you free Friday?”

“I can be. What time’s the screening?”

“Seven. Meet me here at six-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

Fuck, it is a date, isn’t it. It’s a date!

Logan stands there, awaiting something. You’re confused for a beat, then go up on your tiptoes, aiming your mouth towards his.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture… Charles’ book, honey.”

Hmmm, okay. Still time for the earth to just swallow you whole then, actually.

You sort of don’t expect him to turn up. You wouldn’t go on a date with you, all awkward edges and uncomfortable words. And he’s… the coolest fucking guy you’ve ever seen. 

Of course he won’t turn up. Of course he won’t. 

He turns up. 

He’s waiting for you outside the store, leaning against a lamppost, dressed in flannel and smelling like subtle cologne. You can’t help lighting up when you see him and hope you’re dressed suitably - your nicest pair of dungarees and a tight-fitting jumper. 

“Hey! You made it,” you say. 

“‘Course I did,” he replies with a little smile. Oh, you’re giddy. 

“C’mon, it’s not a long walk. It’s a nice night too.”

He lets you chatter as the two of you make the brief journey, content to have you talk his ear off about business and books. He’s happy to answer any questions you ask him about himself: what he does for a living, how he knows Charles, if he’s got anything else on his to-read list. The two of you skirt around the most obvious thing: if he lives at the mansion, he’s definitely a mutant. You can’t quite get the courage to ask him about it. Seems easier to just let it lie, so you do. It’s not that important anyway, you think, you like Logan, with or without any extra bits. 

When you arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall cinema, he gets the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. You do your best not to feel absolutely pathetic by his side. Surely everyone here knows you’re punching above your weight with this absolute grade A specimen of a man? You’re so busy looking around the foyer to make sure nobody is staring that you almost don’t realise when he takes your hand in his.

“You with me, honey?” he asks, soft, low. You swallow thickly and nod because for once, you can’t find the words.

It’s not a very full screening, which is just fine, because you’re happy to be alone with Logan in the dark. You share a bucket of popcorn and a secret little thrill runs up your spine every time your fingers brush together. When that’s finished, he puts his arm around the back of your chair and you snuggle up against his side, cursing the damn plastic cupholder in the middle forcing you to keep a distance. 

One hundred and eight minutes. They’re not enough. You want to be here forever. But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and Logan has to pull his arm back; you hope the reluctance in the withdrawal of the gesture isn’t just your imagination. 

“What did you think?” you ask, standing up and stretching. Logan follows suit, mulling over the question. 

“It was… cute,” he decides. “I can see why you like it.” 

You beam. 

“I can lend you the book if you want. It goes into way more detail about the main character’s life at the start, it’s very stream-of-consciousness but I really enjoy it? It’s different to the other stories before it but definitely worth reading. I think that…”

You’re outside now, under the streetlights, fingers tangled easily with his, and when he stills you’re pulled to a stop too. 

“Hmm?”

He drops his grip on your hand so that he can put one under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. Your heart beats violently. He can definitely feel it. He knows. You don’t care. Fuck, he’s so near. 

“You talk a lot, huh?” he asks. It’s not unkind, the smile on his face is one of fondness, and all of your skeleton turns to jelly as you fucking melt under the affection in his gaze. 

“Please shut me up,” your beg comes out as a whisper, and he does. 

His lips are rough against yours, guiding, but sweet. The hair on his face tickles your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down to kiss him with more enthusiasm. This is not a public-appropriate display of affection, and someone honks their car horn at you both, but it just serves to make you laugh against his mouth and keep going. His hands slide onto your hips and hold you tight against him. Possessive. Wanting. Covetous. 

“You know,” he says when he pulls back for air, still running his lips along the line of your jaw to the hinge beneath your ear, “when Charles told me I should go and get those books, he said I’d like the person who runs the store. Didn’t expect you to be such a gorgeous little thing, though.”

You, gorgeous! Logan thinks you’re gorgeous! You could do a fucking cartwheel in celebration. You don’t though, you’d probably give yourself a concussion. 

His hand goes to his pocket and his brow furrows and, for a second, you panic. Has he started regretting kissing you already? Another quick kiss calms that down though, settling the simmer of worry in your stomach. 

“I think I left my wallet in the theatre. Hold on, I’ll grab it, then I’ll walk you home?”

“Only if you come in with me,” you breathe, and once again your mouth has taken the reins on that one. Logan huffs a laugh, a little incredulous, but mostly pleased at your gumption. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

He leaves you standing there, feeling all tingly. This is happening. It’s fucking happening! Sometimes the stars align for a book nerd and a handsome guy wants to come up to their studio apartment. You thank Jesus, Buddha, Arthur C. Clarke - whoever is listening, they fucking deserve it. 

“You gonna fuck that mutant?”

The voice sends a chill down your throat. 

The trio of guys standing behind you do not look friendly. The biggest one, the one standing in the middle, sneers at your panic, crossing thick arms over a broad chest.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

You screw your courage to the sticking place, puffing up a little. 

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you spit back, hoping that vitriol will deter them. It does not. Instead, they close in, hyenas around a cadaver. 

“Never had a human dick you down good enough, huh? Need a little help? C’mon baby, we’ll show you.”

He reaches out to grab your arm. You let out a noise of panic. 

At the same time, Logan’s fist collides with his face. 

The guy is sent stumbling back, spitting out a globule of blood. His friends step away with panic in their eyes. Logan moves in front of you, his bulk your shield, three metal claws extending from between his knuckles. 

Yeah. Mutant, huh?

“I think you were just leaving, pal,” says Logan in a voice which doesn’t bear messing with. The man bares his reddened teeth. 

“The fuck do you think you are, mutant scum--?!”

He lunges for Logan and the breath is sucked from your lungs when you see he’s pulling out a fucking knife, but another punch sends him flat on his ass. The blade clatters across the street and into the gutter. His friends grab either one of his arms and half stand him up, half drag him away.

“Shit, it’s not worth it—!” is their conclusion as they disappear into the night, shouting back expletives, blood trailing from their leader. Logan shakes out his fist, flexes his fingers; claws retract. He turns to you, slowly. 

“You okay?” he asks, hurriedly checking you over. You nod. 

“Y…yeah. Shaken.” you confess. 

“C'mon. Let’s get you home,” he sighs, and from the cadence of his voice you can tell he’s worried the night has been ruined. You place your hand on his bicep. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you still… will you still come up?”

He softens. 

“If it’ll make you feel safer, sweetheart.”

It does. 

And that’s how you find him sitting on your well-loved couch in between your needlepoint pillows, looking around your tiny home as you make a pot of coffee to share. 

“Jesus, you’ve got more books in here than in the store,” he mutters. 

“Well, some of them I couldn’t part with. I like them too much. And, as you pointed out, I am always reading.”

You look around at the shelves stuffed into your flat, the dozens of them holding hundreds of novels, plays, poems. You love them all dearly. They all hold a special piece of your heart, you can remember where you were when you read most of them. (Downstairs while manning the desk is often the answer). 

“Oh, even this?”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He’s holding up a copy of Fifty Shades. You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“Christ, I read that as a professional courtesy to the art of bookselling. Got it for fifty cents at a thrift store. It’s crap. If you want some good erotica I can recommend…”

The sentence lingers unfinished. Logan raises his eyebrows. 

“You can recommend what, huh?”

The coffee is ready. You can smell its rich scent enveloping your little apartment. An idea forms. Creates a heavy anticipation on your tongue. Your brain screams at you. 

Locked. Loaded. Fire, mouth, fire!

“… then I’d recommend you take me to bed,” you say.

Logan stares, eyes wide. You’ve had an immediate effect on him. His pupils dilate. 

“I… honey, after earlier, I’m not sure if you should…”

You cross the room and sit on his lap, an easy feat when his legs are so thick and inviting. His sentence stops as you press your mouth to the pulse in his neck. Kiss. 

“I’m a consenting adult,” a kiss on his cheek, “who’s invited you into their home,” a kiss on his brow, “and is asking you to take them across their painfully tiny apartment and fuck them. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but Logan? I’ve been game ever since you first walked in from the rain.”

He looks up at you to double check that you’re telling the truth, then kisses you with such ferocity that you squeak. 

You do not make it to the bed. 

He undresses you there on the sofa in the middle of your bookshelves, between Brontë and Austen, beside Carter and Rushdie. Your clothes end up in a messy little pile on the coffee table. It gets kicked and the pile of literary magazines slide to the floor as Logan moves to take off his shoes, letting you drag his jeans down and off of him, cupping his cock in his boxers.

Fuck. Thick, heavy, large, you want all of it. All of him. 

He leans you back against your kitschy little pillows with book quotes on them and pulls your dungarees off, an act both ridiculous and endearing. He catches your knee in his hand and begins to kiss up your thigh towards your underwear.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he presses a kiss to your sex over the fabric. He grins up at you from between your legs. 

“That was the plan.”

He fucks you with his mouth like a man starved, luxuriating in the little sounds you make for him, pressing fingers inside you without any effort at all. You cum all over his knuckles embarrassingly quickly. He looks sorta smug. 

“Baby, when was the last time someone took care of you…?” he asks, licking a stripe along your sex to taste what he’s done. You huff. 

“Too long. You gonna fix that?”

It’s a challenge and he takes it as one. You strip off his shirt, making sure to get a good feel of his muscles as you go, kissing his pectorals and abs just because you can. He slides inside you with one thrust, one of your legs in a crook at his hip; the other with its ankle resting on his shoulder. He starts moving and the couch shakes but all you can do is cling on for dear life to the crocheted blanket. 

“Holy shit… so fuckin’ tight… aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing…” he hisses. You reach up enough to tangle your fingers in his hair and drag him down for a kiss, sloppy and charged with heat. His hand moves in between your legs and you cum for the second time that night, hissing with satisfaction as he spills inside you. 

You collapse onto the sofa together, your heavy breaths harmonising. When he pulls back to kiss you this time it’s softer. With intention. With reference. 

“Uh, you know, they’re showing To Kill a Mockingbird next week. Maybe dinner beforehand, if you’re interested?”

He laughs affectionately and you can feel the rumble in his chest.

“Sounds good. You’ll have to lend me the book first.”

Fuck yeah. You’re never doubting your mouth again. 

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk@starfleetteddybear

[bunnys-kisses]

ash

torger "toto" wolff

cw: smut/pwp, daddydom!toto, degradation, age gap (20s/50s), smoking, drinking, oh to be young, dumb and full of cum, sugar baby au, references to recreational drug use, exhibitionism, public sex, fingering,

bunny says: be responsible, folks!

toto leaned forward and snapped his fingers, "schatzi!" then crooked a finger to make you come towards him.

while being called to like a dog was a little embarrassing to most, instead it made you wet. you came over to him and he put a hand on your ass before he shifted his leg for you to perch yourself on it.

toto took another drag of his cigarette and looked up to you, "schatzi, i need you to tell my good friend something." his hand on your back for support, "tell him my abilities haven't... degraded with age." he smelt like the lingerings of a cigarette and strong cologne.

you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and curved into him. you looked at the man he was talking to. you didn't recognize him, but then again so many faces in mercedes passed in a blur at times.

you giggled, "slow start, quick finisher."

toto looked at you and you looked at him before you grabbed him by the cheeks and moved his head around. the entire time you were giggling, it was probably all the party "favours" in your system.

"funny, girl." the other man said, his eyes lingered on you for a moment. you could tell his gaze was hungry.

you turned your attention to him, your head on top of toto's and his face in your exposed cleavage. a band-aid to the wound on his ego. you said to the other man, "i'm a bit of a comedian." you flashed him a smile, "but don't worry, sir. my toto is a real stallion."

toto pulled away from you and put the cigarette back in his mouth, "thank you, schatzi." and leaned into you when you kissed him on the forehead. he looked away from you a moment after to exhale smoke.

it felt good to curled up next to you man, the age gap was to raise an eyebrow at. but, toto silenced any concerns you had with kisses, orgasms and gifts. you were his special princess, the pretty thing in the short dress that was prancing around the party.

the man toto was speaking to asked another question, "so, schatzi." he didn't know your name, in all fairness you didn't know his. the business affairs of your toto were honestly none of your business.

you frowned and pulled yourself closer to toto, tucked under his chin as he rubbed your back lovingly.

toto noticed your frown and responded for you, "only i can call her that. she gets quite... fickle when others do it." he finished the cigarette and stamped it out in the glass ashtray.

he kept you in his lap, now more settled up against him. he kept an arm around you for support as he rambled to the other man he was speaking to. you didn't really mind too much, instead you stayed at his side like a pretty prize.

toto's hand however, did get a little sneaky as he pulled at the bottom of your already too short dress (you had argued earlier about you wearing it). he exposed more of your bare thigh to the man seated across for him.

in the low light of the party, you could see the tips of the other man's ears go red. toto spoke in an even tone, as if he wasn't about to expose your pussy to the man seated across from him. it was a weird power game that toto liked to play.

snap his jaws until the other person showed submission. also he liked showing off what was his, and you were another trophy in a large collection. but he found your sweet wet pussy nicer than any luxury car. which was why he was so close to show it to the man across from him.

his prize. his schatzi.

you tilted your head up to kiss at toto's jaw. your hands were in the fabric of his button up and you squirmed against his lap. toto's expression didn't flinch as he sank his fingers into your sweet cunt.

his talk of business was just noise to you as you felt the older man's fingers quickly pump in and out of you. you swallowed and felt your heart leap. you couldn't make too much noise or else eventually the whole party would know that you were getting finger fucked by the head principal of mercedes.

in the grand scheme of things, you probably weren't the first person to get finger fucked at a formula one after-party. probably wouldn't be the last either, not if toto had his way.

his thumb grazed your clit, thankful that he managed to "compromise" on the outfit. you could wear the short little number, but no panties. so you better be a good girl and not show off to any men that weren't toto! but he on the other hand could expose that sweet cunt of yours to whoever he pleased.

after all, he paid for every stitch on your clothes. along with the multitude of other things toto bought you. once again, another pretty thing for his collection.

you kept your face up against the older man as he played with your clit. his voice didn't waiver as he sank his ring finger into your aching pussy. his thumb still on your clit.

you wanted to bite into something to keep quiet, your stomach was in knots and your core throbbed. you felt like a toy to be shown off, an object for toto to wave in others' faces. it was wrong but it made you soaked.

the thump of the music throbbed in your skull as he continued to get his entire hand wet with your pussy slick. he could hear your pitiful moans and heavy panting. he knew his erection was becoming a problem in his slacks, but he wasn't someone to let his whiny little schatzi get in the way of talking business.

his fingers were thick in your pussy, his hands were always so big compared to you with long fingers that just sank into you. you looked so pretty perched on his lap.

he tucked some hair behind your ear and whispered to you. his voice hot in your ear, "he's asking you a question?"

you peeked your head away from toto's chest, you knew you must look like a common whore. letting yourself be put in this situation, letting a man finger fuck you and watch you fall apart piece by piece.

your panted heavily and looked at the other man across from you. if you focused your hearing enough you could hear the wet sounds of toto fingering you.

the man across from you two chuckled and had another sip of his drink. he obviously liked what he was seeing. maybe it was a little bit of overkill, but he would never say no to a pretty girl getting absolutely ruined.

"be nice to our guest, schatzi." toto whispered in your ear, "maybe when i'm done you can get him another drink."

there was an inferno in your gut that radiated through your entire body. toto's fingers still moved in and out of you, you fought the urge to pant and moan. you weren't so bitch in heat.

"she's very pretty, where did you get her?" the man across from toto was tempted to touch, but he knew better.

toto grabbed you by the jaw and made you face the other man. the head principal chuckled, "can you believe this little thing was studying at cambridge? scooped her right up after her third year ended and she's been my... helper.. these last few months." he laughed as he kissed you jaw once more.

the man across the table laughed, "well, i guess things have gone down recently. i wonder if they let her in because she was a good fuck."

toto laughed, "she was a virgin when i met her. isn't that right, schatzi?"

you swallowed, "yes, daddy."

toto groaned into your skin, his erection was hard against your behind. he knew you were close, he could feel your tension. his pretty little princess was going to cum all over her daddy's fingers in the middle of a crowded party with the undivided attention of some associate.

or whoever the hell he was!

you clung to toto tightly, your breathing was in heavy pants. you could feel their burning gazes and the sweat down your back. you panted and clutched onto toto's shirt. with another few pumps of his fingers, your face was in his shoulder.

you came around his fingers and almost bit at the collar of his button up to keep yourself from being too loud. for a moment your mind went blank and your core throbbed.

heat stuck to you like glue and you were putty in toto's hands.

the man across from toto asked, "do you want another drink, torger."

toto's fingers played with your clit for a moment long before he said, "i think i am finished for the night."

both men looked at you and you sat there acting so agreeable, like a passive little kitten. toto took his fingers away from your clit and sank them into your mouth for a moment, letting you taste yourself.

the other man looked at you two with a slack jaw.

"and next time, christian." toto said, looking at the man, "don't doubt what i can do." then then turned to you, a flustered, sweaty mess in his lap, "right, schatzi?"

you swallowed and nodded, "yes, daddy." you tried to pull your dress back down to keep some kind of modesty. but you knew the cheap garment was going to be in a pile of scrap fabrics by the time you got back to the hotel room. <3

[bi-writes]

bestfriend!rooommate!simon finds out you've been lying.

more bff!roommate!simon (part 8/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, mean!simon (verbally), size kink (simon can move the reader easily, described as much bigger), praise kink, the mask doesn't come off, oral (m!receiving), fem!receiving touching, cumplay, soft!dom!simon, reader uses simon to get herself off (because there is no universe in which simon doesn't return his girl's favor), pet names (including pet and kitty)

you lied.

if simon had his gloves off, his knuckles would be stark white from how hard he was gripping the mail in his hands.

neither of you had checked your mailbox in a while--simon had only returned a few days ago from the harsh winter of northern russia after weeks away, and you seemingly had been busy with work. so busy, simon noticed very quickly, that you spent morning to late at night in your red and white uniform, coming home in the dead of night just to crash and do it all again the next morning.

now he held all the letters in his hand. stacks of them, with angry red stamps bleeding into the white of the envelopes.

NOTICE

WARNING

PAST DUE

LAST NOTICE

he stopped breathing for a moment. he spread the letters out on the table, flipping through each of them. he didn't open them, of course but these were all your bills. cell phone, last month's half of the rent, credit cards, your name written on the back and ugly red warnings pasted over it.

simon had spoken to you while he was gone. he had called you once, twice at least, and all he remembered was your soft voice telling him you missed him, to be careful, that you screwed up a new cookie recipe that you promised you would perfect before he got home.

you hadn't said a thing. your voice had been even and gentle as always. your voice had been comforting, saying only encouraging words. if simon was honest, your voice put him at ease; you always told him something to calm him, something to uplift him.

"i'm so proud of you, simon."

"i hate that you're gone, but there's no one else that could do what you do."

"um...hah...love you. be careful."

you hadn't said a word. your voice didn't reveal an ounce of the stress and the weight that must've been hanging over your head. there was no falter in your words, no strain as you spoke. just pretty, perfect, beautiful you, easing simon's demons while you battled some of your own.

simon crumpled one of the envelopes in his hands. it was thick with papers, but he still forced it into a ball, tossing it back onto the table angrily. he gripped the edge of the table, white knuckling it until he heard the key in the lock.

it was quiet as you came inside. you shut the door and locked it behind you, setting down your bag and taking off your jacket. it was morning; you had worked the night shift. your eyes were drawn low, tired and a dull. you said nothing as you toed off your shoes, letting your sneakers settle under the table. it was then that you noticed simon just sitting there, still, with his hands folded in front of him.

and all of your bills scattered around him.

you sucked in a shaky breath, looking up into his eyes. they were trained low, on the letters surrounding him, but he glared, boring a whole through them. he didn't know where to focus his anger; you were precious, you could do no wrong, you were soft and warm and his, and it wasn't your fault that everything was so expensive, that you were struggling.

but it was your fault that you hadn't said a thing--that you hadn't asked for help.

"simon, i...i-i can explain."

"no. y'r not gonna talk, luv." you had never heard his voice this way. so low and gravelly, an eerie lilt to it that reeked of disappointment and somehow betrayal. "y'r gonna sit down. now."

simon roughly pulled the chair from beside him out, an unspoken command for you to take a seat. your bottom lip trembled as you slumped into the chair, watery eyes avoiding his.

"how long?"

"simon--"

you jumped as he slammed a hand down on the table. the entirety of it shook, the papers ruffling and the dishes clattering loudly.

"a few months! a-a few months, just--"

"no!" simon snapped. "y'lied to me. y'lied to me! i asked! how many times have i asked?! how many times have i looked you in the fuckin' eye and asked you if everythin' was in order, how many fuckin' times?!"

you couldn't keep it in. the tears were hot, running down your cheeks and putting salt on your lips and a dryness in your throat. you were embarrassed. embarrassed that you needed help, ashamed that you were being scolded like a child, afraid of his loud voice and his terrible anger and the way he looked at you. when you decided to live together, you weren't meant to be his burden. you didn't intend to be his problem.

"i-i'm sorry, simon--i'm sorry..." you met his eyes. "i'm taking extra shifts. i-i'm gonna pay the bills, i-i'm gonna make it right, i-i swear--"

"is that what you think this is?"

he narrowed his eyes at you, two dark slits, and then as if a switch flipped, it was gone. his face softened, his eyes widening, and the tension seemed to dissipate just enough to let you breathe a little easier. you couldn't decipher this change, and you couldn't read what was in his eyes, not this time. all you could was sit there and try not to let your cries make any sound.

"do y'think i'm angry because y'didn't pay? is that what y'think?"

you shook your head, shrugging, not understanding his question.

"what...what other reason is there, s-simon?" you hiccuped. "i screwed..." more tears, they wouldn't stop falling, "i-i screwed up, simon, i-i'm so sorry, i-i--"

you jumped when his chair screeched against the floor. he stood up fast, taking a step to round the table to crouch beside your chair. he looked up at you, making himself smaller, and you looked down.

"simon, i'm sorry--"

"stop! stop fuckin' apologizing, fuck," simon interrupted you. his voice was gentle, trying not to scare you, and you closed your mouth, taking in deep, shaking breaths to try and center yourself. "'m angry because you didn't talk to me, luv--" your face fell when he reached up, two gloved hands cupping your puffy cheeks, "--why didn't you say anything? why didn't you tell me? why didn't you ask me for help?"

you sniffled, reaching up and caressing his wrists gently. you played with the edges of his gloves, your fingers skimming the hem of his sleeves and just barely teasing the bare skin under it.

"simon...how could i?" you asked, as if it was obvious. "after everything that's happened...after everything we've been through...h-how could i ask that of you?" "how could you not?" simon spit back, and when you tried to pull away, he tightened his grip on your cheeks. "no, no--look at me--" he rose up on his knees, pressing your forehead to his, "look at me."

your expression was pained, struggling to do as he asked, but eventually your eyes fluttered, meeting his own, and he grunted as he gripped the back of your neck and held you there.

nowhere to go. nowhere to run. no one else.

"y'r not my problem. not my burden," he muttered. "y'r m'responsibility. mine to take care of."

"i-i don't want you to have to do that--"

"what the fuck do y'think this is?" he breathed. "what we have, what this is, this is forever, has that not gotten through y'r bloody head?" you whimpered when he shook you a little, his hand in your hair as he pulled it tight. "y'r as good as mine. not up for discussion."

you swallowed hard as his hands came down, wiping the tears off your face. he brushed your hair back and away, so he could see you, and you smiled at him sadly, eyes glossy and bright.

"'m gonna take care of the flat from now on, yeah?" simon murmured. "'m gonna take care of everything."

your body visibly relaxed. your shoulders fell, your body sinking a little more into the chair, and there was something sweet in your eyes--something hopeful. simon's tone was definite, and there was no room for arguing. you nodded finally, leaning in slowly, pressing a delicate kiss to where his lips would be under the mask. his thumb swiped over your cheek, falling to trace the line of your jaw, and then you both closed your eyes at the same time.

there was an understanding here. it was as if simon was washing you clean--something refreshing and warm and gentle running down the length of you, rinsing whatever was hurting you right down some sort of sickening void that had gripped you so tightly. and he did it so easily--he did it without even blinking.

and it was easy. simon never hesitated with you. his money rotted in an account anyways--it sat and stared at him, reminding him of the kind of hell he had gone through just to get it. it reminded him of the half of him that was someone, the half of him that he hated, the half of his being that came from a wretched, horrid, terrifying thing that manifested itself somewhere in his blood.

simon was half of something foul, and maybe he couldn't make up for the part of him that he didn't think was human, but he could make up for this, make up for you, make up for whatever half of you had left you here. because that was what you deserved--you deserved to be taken care of, you deserved not to worry, you deserved to sleep in soft sheets and eat until your belly was full and smile so much that your cheeks ached, and if simon had to become someone else just to give it to you, if simon had to die and come back again, then that was exactly what he would do.

simon had died once already. simon had seen it--seen how empty and unfulfilling and quiet it had been. simon had seen another side, and you didn't belong there. you belonged somewhere warm. somewhere a little noisy, a little bright, familiar.

it hadn't always been this way. when simon first met you, it hadn't been a good day--simon wore bruises, and you wore blood, and it was in that instant moment of understanding that made it clear you would be bound forever.

something invisible threaded you together. and simon had pulled himself out of his early grave, and after he had done it, you were the only thing that remained. and he hated himself--he hated himself for thanking some unspoken thing, because his entire family was gone, but you weren't gone, you were still here, there was still sunlight in your eyes and laughter in your voice and you were still warm.

it should've tasted sour to be grateful for it. he wanted to hate himself for this feeling. he deserved to die again and not return, but then he wouldn't get to see you anymore, and the selfish part of him, the other half of him, would never give you up willingly.

this love was visceral. this love was going to kill him. he was going to die with you on his mind, but maybe that would be the only thing worth really dying for.

because there you are. big, pretty eyes gazing up at him--fuck, why does she look at me like that?

why does she look at me like i mean something?

why isn't she afraid?

why can't i push her away?

what the fuck is wrong with me?

his beautiful girl. his pretty little roommate. the woman with flowers for eyes and silk as skin and a mind filled with starlight. the sweetheart pushing him to sit, forcing him backwards, getting on her knees in between his legs. and then her hands were on his thighs, sliding up against the rough denim as she laid one side of her face against it, those petals in her eyes trained on the way that his pants seemed to get tighter with every drag of her delicate fingers up his thighs.

and then she was pushing up his hoodie, exposing the relaxed muscle of his stomach, and then she was kissing it. soft lips warming the solid middle of him, a knowing smile growing on her face as she felt him twitch and jump and grunt. and then those beautiful eyes were looking back up at him, her neck tilted back as she undid his jeans and nestled the hem of them just low enough for her to reach in and fuck--

you knew simon was beautiful everywhere. you knew that there was no part of him that wasn't perfect. you couldn't remember being particularly religious, but kneeling in front of him felt like devotion--and you had much to confess.

he was thick, heavy, a weight in your hand that had you drooling without so much as seeing him. you were looking at the red tip of him with eyes half-lidded, and it took everything in you not to take him all at once. but this was simon, this was your version of perfect, and you needed to show simon how much you felt because words were not enough.

words would never be enough.

you started slow. you dipped your head, your eyes flicking up to watch him as you caressed the base of him with a wet kiss. you squeezed your legs together when you noticed his dark eyes roll back into his head for a second, a pained, pleasured reaction, and then you did it again.

a soft lick, the edge of your tongue sliding over a protruding vein on the underside of his length, and you closed your own eyes for a moment to revel in the deep groan that simon uttered. you sighed deeply, keeping your thighs squeezed together to relieve the sudden ache between them, before flattening your tongue and guiding it up his length. simon cursed under his breath, his hands gripping his thighs tight--but one of his hands flew to the back of your head when your greedy little mouth sucked the tip of him into your mouth.

you moaned softly, tasting the edge of him, something so simon and pleasant. a little precum, warm, flowing onto your tongue. you whimpered when you felt his fingers tangle into your hair, gripping you for stability as you sucked him in.

"christ, luv--" just the sound of him so pleased was enough to have you dripping, "fuck--'s so good, 's perfect--"

she was so beautiful. she was perfect. of course she would be good at sucking him off, of course she would have the prettiest tongue and the warmest mouth, and of course she would have one hand wrapping around the base of him as the other slipped between her legs--

"fuck--y'r gettin' off on this, yeah?" he grunted, his eyes flashing with something dark. "'f course you are, such a good girl--"

good girl, good girl, i'm a good girl--

just as slow as it began, as quick as you became. one moment you were cool, composed, watching simon's eyes and listening to his voice as you tried to memorize what pleasure sounded like when it came from him, and the next moment you were sliding him further into your mouth, drool dripping down your jaw as precum spread across your teeth. he was so big--so much to take, but the strain in your jaw tomorrow would have to be a welcome side effect to making lieutenant simon riley cum down your throat.

so sloppy, what a mess you were making. simon's hand now cupped the side of your head, your hair in some makeshift updo as he guided you along his length. the sounds were filthy--soft, slobbering noises as you took simon just a little further down your throat, your tongue being careful to tease the slit of him, slipping between the fold of it to illicit the most gorgeous of moans out of him.

"fuckin' hell--the mouth of a fuckin' angel--"

"such a pretty girl...such a pretty sight...makin' such a mess, sweetheart..."

"y'like it, yeah? y'like it...y'r so pretty...s'pretty, luv, nnngh--th's it, just like that--"

and now you were bouncing pathetically onto your hand. you pressed your hand into the floor, trapping your thighs over it as you tried desperately to grind down on something as you sucked warmly on simon's length. just as you let out a frustrated whine, simon's boot knocked your hand out of the way, slipping the steel toe of it right there, right--oh!

you cried out as the tip of his boot pushed right up against your cunt. the perfect spot, right against your aching clit, because simon never missed--simon always hit his target, whether it was between the eyes of some muppet who had his gun aimed at johnny or exactly where to touch his girl to make her drool. and drool she did--with her mouth stuffed full of him, with her slick wetting her thighs, with that look in her eyes that could make any man lose his fucking mind.

and simon was losing it, he was crazy. he soothed the back of your neck, grunting and hissing and wetting the fabric of his mask with the way he spat and cursed for you. but how could he help himself? the most beautiful girl in the world was on her knees, looking at him like she was at the alter. confessing her sins, receiving her absolution, taking every bit of it like the good girl she was, is.

he was so pretty. he tasted so good. you could only see his eyes, but it was more than enough, you didn't need anything more. the way he scrunched them open and shut, the low drawl of his voice as he said your name--he was perfect. his cock filled your mouth so nicely; he was using you, but you didn't feel used.

you wanted this. you wanted him. you wanted him to put you between his legs, wanted him to finally feel something other than that sick, twisted ache in his bones.

you lifted your hand, the one that had been buried between your thighs, and you cupped the underside of him with them. the wet, sticky warmth of your fingers had simon choking on a breath, hissing when you began to work the length of him that you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"jesus fuckin' christ--!"

his chest was heaving, rising up and down as he scratched at your scalp and cupped the underside of your jaw. then he bent low, smoothing a gloved hand down your throat, needing to feel the way it constricted, the way you swallowed, the feel of your skin and the vibrations as you whimpered and moaned around the thick of him.

you were suckling so sweetly, letting pools of drool and precum slip past your lips and drip along your chin, your hands, against his boot. simon was getting close--you could tell by the way he tugged on your hair and the faltering of his breaths. and he was talking--talking so much, blubbering.

"aye, sweetheart--th's it..."

"fuckin' hell...nnnghh...feel like bloody heaven..."

"...see you in m'dreams, luv...aghh! fuck--fuck, fuck, fuck--"

you didn't think there was anything more attractive than watching simon lose control. but you weren't doing much better. as you sucked the salt from his cock, you slid your hips over his boot to relieve the ache between your thighs even just a little. you thought maybe it was a pathetic sight, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. you fit your cunt right up against him, nestling the tip of his toes against your clit so you could rock back and forth, soaking the leather with you.

simon grunted, chuckling a bit to himself as you watched you suck a little harder, a little sloppier, move your hips a little messier. you were like a sweet, doe-eyed puppy--all big eyes and soft mewls and nothing inside your head except suck, suck, suck--

you whined when he came into your mouth. you held out your tongue, massaging the middle of his cock as he dripped along your mouth, your lips, under your tongue, against your chin. and like the messy little girl you were, you kept suckling on the tip until simon gripped you by the back of the head and lifted you up off the ground, grunting as he roughly manhandled you into his lap.

"little kitty can't help herself...what a fuckin' mouth on ya..."

and then his fingers were gathering the cum on your face and slipping it back into your mouth--just as the fingers on his other hand plunged inside of you.

he was deep, thick gloved fingers taking up even more space, stretching your pulsing, gummy cunt as you gripped his shoulders and cried. little tears coming down your face as you chased that blissful high, begging simon to give it, give it, you need it.

it didn't take much. just a few rough touches of your puffy clit, and you were soaking his gloves, whining as you pressed your cheek to his and mumbled how good he felt, how everything hurt so nice.

a pounding, aching thing that was gone in a matter of seconds, throwing you in a pleasure-drunk mood, with your head rest against his shoulder and your breaths coming out heavy and languid.

your eyes fluttered, but your vision was just clear enough that you could see simon lift the front of his mask. you caught the line of deep scar, something a healed and vicious against his pretty face. then it was gone, replaced by the sight of him slipping his gloved fingers into his mouth and sucking on them, pink tongue coming out to taste them as he slurped at the gooey mess you made on them.

you saw the slightest hint of a smirk before the fabric came back down again.

"'s alright, pet--" simon's voice was low, a drawl to it that made his accent a bit more pronounced. and just as your eyes fluttered shut completely--

"'m right here, kitty."

[omgeto]

an: so I decided to do a bunch of one shots with the lovely tattoo artist boyfriend!geto. these can be read as a stand alone but I guess to get the full vision you should read them all. these will all have smut so mdni

☆ COVER UP

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

☆ TRAMP!…stamp

summary: you’ve always known your boyfriend to be blunt, rude and not really a people person. so when you come to visit him at work to see him giggling with a pretty female client — you can’t help to feel a little bit.. jealous.

☆ BRANDED

summary: geto hires a new person in the shop, someone he actually starts to get along with. but surprise surprise, who would’ve thought that would be your ex — the same ex that was the reason for you meeting geto in the first place.

☆ BLACKOUT

summary: running a business can be tough, too tough. and the toil of managing one can get to anyone — especially someone like geto. he doesn’t always have a way with words so instead of talking to you, he shuts you out. leaving the status of your relationship up in the air.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

imagine like reader being a detective or something, being on the case to catch Red Hood (while he’s still a crime boss)/ the Arkham Knight, but being in a relationship with Jason, unaware of his nightly business. And then boom, they find out one day and it’s all angsty 🤞🤞 love ur work btw hihi

Betrayal

Hi, nonnie! I thought I had this done earlier, but then I had to keep world building. Stuck with Red Hood on this one. Hurt/No comfort warning. Non-graphic, very minor character death. ~1.8k words

Gotham is cursed. That's what they told you when you transfered to the GCPD. Yeah, you've heard the stories, but they're just messing with you, right? Trying to scare the newest rookie cop.

Except they were telling the truth. A few years later, more cases than you can keep track of, enough masked rouges to fill arkham three times over, and a promotion to detective, you tell the rookies the same thing they told you. Gotham is cursed.

"Alright, Detective, this one is yours." You make a face at the case file the Commissioner drops on your desk.

"Sir, I took care of The Penguin robbery last week, isn't it someone elses turn to deal with the high profile cases?" You gingerly pick up the file, reading over the name Red Hood stamped on the front.

Gordan sighs at you, already turning away to move onto the next poor detective. "We cycled through everyone else after the Black Gate breakout. Anyone who didn't work on it has active cases. That makes this one yours."

You grumble reluctantly, cases like this lead to more press coverage than you want to deal with, but start flipping through the file, mentally noting down the sparse facts and theories about the up and coming crime lord.

That was four months ago. In such a short amount of time, Red Hood has taken over more territory in Gotham than any other crime lord and completely changed the game. No dealing to children, no human trafficking. You hate to acknowledge it, but crime technically has dropped since he took over the majority of gangs in Gotham under an iron fist.

The work is exhausting, he's always one– no, five steps ahead of you and your growing team of detectives and beat cops. You don't think you've even gotten a real glimpse at him that he didn't mean to let you have.

The closest you've gotten to Red Hood was out of uniform, weeks after you got the case, when he was still a new name on the streets.

It was a robbery, some desperate punk in a mask that didn't conceal anything, was dragging a little girl out of the store as a hostage.

"Take me instead, she's just a kid." You had protested, heart sinking at the terror in the little girls face.

"Not a chance." He barked back at you.

"Look, she's scared, she'll only slow you down."

The gunman stares at you, you see his fingers twitch. "Fuck it. Fine. Both of you are coming with me." That's how you ended up in some alley, familiar sirens wailing in the distance and your hand curled protectively with the child's.

"Shit. Man. Shit. The cops weren't supposed to be here. What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail." He's snapping. Rambling and desperate. Your eyes dart for some kind of plan, a way to help the little girl stay safe. But the alley is empty, not even a dumpster to seek shelter behind. "I just gotta get rid of the witnesses. Yeah. The witnesses."

Your eyes dart to him, he's lifting the gun. You don't hesitate to grab the little girl, wrapping your arms around her and turning your back to the man, tucking her to your chest to provide as much cover as you can provide.

A gun fires.

There's a thud.

You look over your shoulder, the girls face still hidden against you. He's not moving, gun unshot and laying next to him on the ground. There's a pool of dark liquid forming around him. You look up.

You manage to see a red glint, the shine of a gun, the eerie glow of a luminescent eyes. Red Hood.

That's all you manage to see before you're swarmed by cops, guiding you and the girl to safety.

It's a memory that plays in your mind sometimes, when you hear testimonies of how Red Hood saves people in crime alley, despite his crime lord status. It's confusing, exhausting even, to try and sort between the good and the bad, the duality of one man. At least you have your loving boyfriend to come home to.

Jason. He makes you feel like Gotham might not be so cursed. It's great, he gives you butterflies. He makes you happy. You cook meals together, and you both work the weird twilight/night shift hours. He holds you like you're precious under your shared comforter. You think you might love him. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair when he thinks you're sleeping. You kiss his palms when his eyes get that far away, haunted look he can’t seem to explain.

He's insisted on cooking dinner tonight as you watch him, a little starry eyed. You can't really blame yourself when he's shirtless and working over your favorite meal.

"Oh, Jason, I need to wash my clothes. Do you need anything done?" You ask, finally remembering that you do actually have a job and responsibilities and you can't stare at your handsome boyfriend all day.

"No, I'm good, baby. Go ahead and do your thing. Dinner's almost done." He answers idly, shooting you a lazy grin as you stand.

You smile back before leaving the kitchen to gather your clothes. As you dump the dirty laundry in the washer, you realize you never refilled the detergent. Mumbling an annoyed curse, you head to the spare bedroom you rarely use. There should be some extra necessities stock piled in there. You know, for the next time a criminal messes with Gothams chain supply.

You're more focused on the delicious smells floating through the apartment as you open the closet door, idly looking around for the detergent. That's why it doesn't really click in your mind what you're looking at. Guns. Armor. Your thoughts freeze to a stop. Are you dating some kind of henchman? A bright red helmet takes up your vision. Nope. You're dating a crime boss.

The helmet is in your hands and you're fumbling your way to the kitchen before you even have your thoughts sorted. Should you call for back up? Shouldn't you try to catch him by surprise? Sure. But, you need answers. You want this to be a misunderstanding. You want Jason to be your partner– not– not what the evidence that's heavy in your hand says he is.

Statistics run through your mind. Stories of Red Hood saving working girls. Stories of him leaving bodies of dealers that sold to kids. Then, memories of your boyfriend. How he leans down to kiss your forehead. How runs his hand up and down your arm while you watch movies together. If there was a sign. If you were too blind and in love to realize.

He turns to look at you when you stalk in. You throw the helmet at him. The helmet you'd recognize anywhere, even if you've never gotten close enough to touch it before. He catches it with the grace of a predator. "The hell is this, Jason?"

"It's a helmet." He says evenly, turning off the stove and placing the helmet down on the counter.

"No, duh, it's a helmet, Jason. Don't patronize me. Is it yours?" You nearly hiss, hands curling in anger and frustration and heart break you're not ready to admit you're feeling.

He studies you, eyes dark and calculating. It makes you bite the inside of you cheek. His eyes never looked at you like that before. "It is."

You laugh out of disbelief, stepping back. "So you've been using me? Is that what all this was? Just a way to get information about the GCPD and what we had on you?"

"What? No." He says your name a little pleading, "it's not like that. Not anymore."

"But it was." You bite out, cursing yourself for the sting of tears in your eyes.

He steps closer, you step back, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He whispers your name, and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes before it disappears. His voice goes steady, even. "It was. But I haven't tried to get anything like that since–"

"Since when, Jason?" You cut off, anger and hurt clear in your voice, in your face. "Was it before we raided the warehouse at the docks? Is my computer bugged? Did you hack my phone?"

He winces. You don't need to be a detective to know he has. "I haven't used them since we started getting serious."

"And when was that, Jason?" You ask, voice breaking at his name. "Because it's been serious this entire time for me."

He doesn't answer at first, gaze leaving you to stare at his helmet. "Since I– I saw you save that kid. Instead of going after that shooter. When I realized you weren't just another one of the corrupted cops. That you care about this city. And the people. I realized I couldn't keep doing that to you."

You go quiet. What can you say to that? "Were you ever going to tell me?" You settle on.

"I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, eyes leaving the helmet to meet your teary gaze. "I didn't know how. I don't– think I wanted you to know. " He stutters over his last sentence, and then says your name, pleading coming back to his tone. "I can't lose you over this."

"You never had me!" Your voice raises, a shout in anger before you can bury it down. You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and lowering your voice. "You never had me if everything this was was built on a lie."

"It's not a lie." He says firmly, snapping to attention and stepping towards you. He gestures between the two of you, says your name like he demands your attention. "This is not a lie."

"It is, Jason! You're only here to gain something from me! From my job!" You push back, throat tight and head spinning. Maybe you shouldn't be yelling at Gothams most dangerous and deadliest crime boss, but your heart is too broken for your head to think straight.

"No, pretty." You think he's pleading. You think his mouth might even be trembling as he speaks, but you can't make it out through the tears in your eyes. "No. It was like that at first. I know. I know that hurts you, but, it's not like that now. It's nowhere near that now."

"I don't care." You choke out.

"You don't mean that." Jason protests, but he doesn't sound certain.

"I don't want to see you anymore." You say the words before you're even sure you want that.

His face drops. "You don't mean that either."

"I do." It tastes like a lie. It sounds like the truth. You're turning and leaving before he can speak again, before you can unpack what you really want, locking yourself in the bathroom.

You fall asleep to the sound of your own tears, curled on the cold tile floor. You wake to silence. His helmet is gone from your counter when you enter the kitchen.

Your favorite dinner is wrapped in plastic when you open the fridge.

It makes the truth of it all worse. Gotham really is cursed.

Part Two

[mysunshinetemptress]

I Hate Her part two

Part one

Leah Williamson x enemy reader

Warning: Feeling like and outsider, self doubt, Leah being an asshole

A/n: I’m taking a break for the weekend, I’m just to busy to post anything so I’ll see you all Monday

You don’t make the roaster for Tokyo 2020, You wait patiently anxiously by the phone, you haven’t left your house scared that the phone will ring and you’ll either miss it or make a show of yourself in public and when the phone call comes your so happy you decide to stay at home, your told that maybe next you’ll get the chance but for now it’s a no, they just don’t think you're fully ready. You, you who have been on the senior squad since you were twenty, how are you not ready to be a part of team GB? 

How is she, how is Leah good enough to be a part of the Olympic squad and you're not, you got the call-up first to the Lionesses, you have the most clean tackles of the last two seasons of the WSL, you have the most goal scored by a defender of last season, how is she the better choice. 

You’re gutted, gutted as it’s officially announced and you watch the congratulations roll in for your teammates and you can’t help but feel like you're supposed to be there too, to be getting a congratulations instead of “Oh darling I’m so sorry, you’ll get it next time.” 

So when the phone call comes in a month before the team is set to leave for camp and start getting ready for the Olympics you can’t help but feel like a fraud in a sense, this is what you wanted, but not like this, not as a second choice, not when one of your teammates, friends has to pull out due to injury. 

You let out a half-hearted smile under the mask as you greet the social media team “Excited?” You nod “Excited.” You head in getting a COVID test done before moving to get your room allocation. 

You feel lost in camp these girls have known they were going to be a part of this squad for months now but you, you’re the last one in, the final pick, the second choice, and Leah has no problem showing it. 

Leah was the first to make you feel like an intruder. Her eyes once filled with camaraderie, now held a cold indifference. Her snide remarks, subtle digs and subtle exclusion, were like tiny daggers, aimed with precision to erode your confidence. You were a constant reminder of her misfortune, a living, breathing symbol of her failure.

The weight of expectation was suffocating. Every mistake, every missed pass, was magnified under the unforgiving spotlight of the Olympic stage. You were haunted by the fear of letting everyone down, of proving your doubters right. The girl who once thrived under pressure was now paralysed by it.

Nights were the worst. As your teammates shared laughter and inside jokes, you retreated into the solitude of your room. But your room only offered up that solitude during the day, when your eyes closed the same recurring nightmares plagued your mind and fed into the doubt, The medal ceremony played on repeat in your mind, their faces beaming with pride, stood on the podium as you tried to reach it, tried to climb on but a boot always connected with your hand stamping on it again and again forcing you to let go, before laughter erupted from the team, all looking down on you laughing at your inability to make it up, to be good enough to stand on the podium alongside them, the scene changes their names etched in history. And you? You a footnote, “Y/n Y/L/N the one who nearly ruined it for us all.” 

No one understands it, they haven’t tried to push you out, to exclude you (Leah has, her friends have been unexpectedly roped into it). The older girls are worried, your Captains Kim Little, Sophie Ingle and Ellen White can see it, you’re young, far too young to put so much pressure on yourself that you slip away from the group, and so they decide tonight is a team night, a mandatory team night. 

 You’re late, late for the team night and you feel nauseous as you open the door to the common room and everyone turns to look at you, you freeze until a hand grabs yours and you look up to see Ella, Ella, funny, loud Ella, she pulls you along to sit with her and Niamh and you do so quickly. Millie looks at you concerned raising a thumb up to make sure you’re ok, all you can do is nod. 

“Right ladies, shall we play a game.” Everyone lets out a cheer as they discuss what game to play Niamh tries to make conversation “So what’s the plans for summer break.” You shrug “I want to go to  Spain but I don’t know if that’s going to happen.” Ella shakes her head “We are all heading to Ibiza, you should come.” You nod slightly “Who is going.” Ella rattles off the names as the group seems to quieten down. 

Paranoia, is the game you used to play in secondary school, when you were an immature teenager, why this game, who chose this game. You felt your anxiety rise as flashes from your time sitting around the canteen table playing the game passed through your mind. 

You're safe for the start, no one mentions you, although there are slight digs here and there each girl seems to take it with a laugh, there’s nice ones too but still the bad ones always slip through. You don’t get a mention from anyone else but Leah’s best friends.

“Weakest pass” 

“Y/n”

“*****”

“Y/n” 

“*********”

“Y/n”

It was constant,  you laughed it off (forced laugh) when you found out, it was fine you could deal with it until you couldn’t. 

Leah thinks for a minute, it’s her turn again and everything she has said about you so far is only scratching the surface of how much she seems to hate you, she knows what to say she just hopes Keira takes the bait. She leans overhand covering her mouth and Keira's ear, she should know it’s a bad one from Keira's reaction, Kiera knows what Leah wants her to say but this ones mean, really mean, she can’t, not about you, you don’t fit this description, your miles ahead of the younger girls, but she doesn’t know what else to do. “Y/n.”

You sigh, you’re tired, bored even, bored of them choosing you, there are 21 other girls here, why do they keep picking on you? 

You flip the coin and watch as it lands on heads, Keira looks mortified while Leah wears a half smile, she looks proud of the fact you get to find out the question so she doesn’t even give Kiera the chance to “Who’s the worst player on the squad.” 

Your heart plummets, and you look between Leah and Keira, Keira’s eyes flick around the room trying to look anywhere but you, Leah, Leah looks guilty, no her expression changes so quick but she settles with a half smile again. 

You force out another laugh only this one is ten times more broken than the last, Ella grabs your hand trying to comfort you, comfort you about what, Leah’s right, you’re the worst player on the squad. You look around at the rest of your team’s concerned faces and panic you have to say something, otherwise, you’ll come off weak.

“Well obviously, I-I mean I was a second choice.” 

The words don’t have the effect you want and the girls look at you worriedly eyes soft “I think we better call it a night.” 

You play every game Team GB is part of in the Olympics, you help get them to the quarter-finals, you, the second choice, the worst player on the squad, play every game. 

[rolanpilled]

BG3 Patch 5 Spoilers

WARNING: BG3 SPOILERS AHEAD!

New content from the ending scene of BG3. This is all from the perspective of a redeemed Dark Urge who romanced Shadowheart and Halsin, and recruited every "good" ally possible.

people at the party: all your companions, scratch, owlbear, volo, and a bard in the middle playing a song (his name is milil)

lae'zel is the only one who isn't here physically, she sent an astral projection instead because she's been busy fighting vlaakith

astarion explains why he ran away (ashamed) when the sunlight hit him, he's become a "hero" who adventures and has accepted himself

(romanced halsin) you can hug halsin, he's missed his friends and you. you can do both the hug and the kiss, it's really sweet. he's turned the shadowlands into a community, repursing reithwin and moonrise towers into homes for people

jaheira's daughter rejoined the flaming fist, she's been working on rebuilding the harper network. the upper city was entirely destroyed by the battle but has been mostly rebuilt. she jokes that you might be a parent soon

wyll gives you a choice between three stories, a stegosaur/dinosaur battle, an impossible lich, or a young dragon. he lost his warlock powers but has been managing the best he can, and has become a RANGER ("a true hunter of monsters"). duke ravengard is commanding the flaming fist and help rebuilding the city, and he's very proud of his son

minsc and boo guard the streets while jaheira is "occupied with harperish manners". they "went to give a tickle" to the zhentarim, then got locked up in a zhentish cell, awaiting execution? idk if i'm reading incorrectly but he seems to be implying that he actually GOT executed but withers brought him back just in time lmfao

gale has become "professor gale dekarios of blackstaff academy, educator of the esteemed school of illusion". tara is with him. he surrended the crown of karsus to mystra, who cured him of the orb in exchange (his tattoo is gone), though his students still think he's explosive (he implies that he uses it as a threat to keep his class under control). he tells his students about your adventures together. he also implies you're welcome to visit his tower

shadowheart (main romance) - the game told me that we settled down together to live a happy, peaceful life on a farm in the countryside. shar still hurts her (if parents are saved), especially when she can sense that SH is enjoying herself, but it's been getting less frequent because she's been "losing interest". there's a new hug and kiss scene for her too, so i'm assuming this is for ALL companions and not just halsin/SH/whoever

withers will speak to you about karlach, explaining that she won't be able to come back. he jokes about her, which is rare for him, and you're given to opportunity to grieve her loss. in "a dozen tendays" (assumedly how long bg3 is), "an entire life was lived, she lived several centuries" (not exact quote).

milil, the bard playing in the center, does NOT want to be there. he's pissed that no one recognizes him (he's pissed specifically that i'm a bard and don't recognize him), i had to pass a deception check to recognize him and he cheered up and offered to change the song he's playing

there's a chest called "Chest of Grateful Words" filled with letters from your allies!

"Official Guild Letter"

"Letter from Barcus"

"Letter from Art"

"Letter from Valeria"

"Letter from Ravengard"

"Letter from Sebastian"

"Letter from Florrick"

"Letter from the Gur" (unascended Astarion)

"Letter from Alfira" (durge, killed quil grootslang)

"Letter from Dammon"

"Letter from Elminster"

"Letter from Nocturne"

"Letter from Voss"

"Letter from Hope"

"Letter from Mayrina"

"Letter from Nine-Fingers"

"Letter from Zevlor"

"Harp-stamped Letter"

Baldur's Mouth Gazette

If you find anything interesting I missed, please let me know.

[helluvagyal]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐮𝐩

Starring: Adam, Vox and Alastor x gn!reader !

Content: MDNI, smau, cursing, derogatory name calling in both vox and adam's art (by them and you), alastor's part is in the format of him sending a letter. I named Alastor's shadow Facilier because I wanted to.

A/N: It was fun writing this tbh. @hellvcifer specially requested Adam and then I had them re-read some of his part to see if i got the characterization right.

ADAM

VOX

ALASTOR

An eggshell white envelope lands on the table in front of you. Looking up from your well kept copy of House of Leaves, you see Rosie is standing beside the bone carved table, her large eyes flitting expectantly between you and the mail obviously intended for you.

Closing the book with a sigh, you hand it to Rosie before picking up the letter and inspecting it; Your name is written on the front in loopy but neat handwriting and the back is sealed with red wax that's been stamped with Alastor's crest, a Whitetail Deer skull. You heat the letter opener over the candle flame beside you before sliding it under the seal to melt it. Once opened, you gently slide the parchment out but not yet unfolding it.

"Would you like me to stay?" Rosie rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, her smile softening when you nod gratefully.

"Yes, please." You watch as she folds her skirts before taking a seat in the armchair across from you.

You haven't heard a peep from Alastor since you two decided to end your relationship, and while amicable, you couldn't help but feel nervous about receiving a letter from him.

Hesitantly, you unfold the deer skin parchment and begin to quietly read to yourself.

My dear,

I have penned this letter numerous times, trying my hardest to get my thoughts out in a way the both of us will find acceptable. Firstly, I must apologize for being scarce, the hotel has been keeping me very busy recently as I decided that I needed to throw myself into work as a way to cope. I am well aware that at some point, we both wanted different things, to achieve individual goals that would not have bode well for us in the long run if we had decided to stay together.

Be that as it may, I would be lying if I had said that I had not grown fond of you and our tête-à-têtes. I did not think I would have enjoyed hunting together as a date night option but yet again, you have managed to make me eat my words, sha. Time apart has made me come to the realization that even though we are no longer in intimate relations, that does not mean I do not want you in my life.

My apologies again, as I know that by me avoiding you must have made you think the worst of me, I regret that moment of weakness on my part as I could have pictured the hurt you must have felt every time you hoped to see me but I did not show.

The chance to talk over tea and pastries at Rosie's would just be the bees knees, I so would like to issue these apologies again in person—but I just couldn't imagine writing this letter without doing it here first. According to Facilier, you seem to be looking well and it is not that I do not trust its judgement, I would just like to see you for myself.

I look forward to hearing from you again, sha.

Yours,

Alastor

© helluvagyal ‧ all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, translate, share, or copy my work.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— mattel

SUMMARY : “it’s been a few years since tfw got out of the life, dean and reader are married, etc. dean’s been a little self-conscious lately—he doesn’t look like how he used to; he’s put on a few pounds. just dean with love handles (PLEASEEEEE dean with love handles lives rent free in my mind) body (dean’s) appreciation, lovey dovey stuff like that. reader taking care of him :))))) dean smut fic!!!!!” - anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : Alison (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluffy, little angst, shameless horniess, dirty thoughts, size kink ngl

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : title from an avenged sevenfold song. this fills the square for sex shop on my @jacklesversebingo card. there will be a second part, hehe. xx

“Wow,” you looked around with your lips parted in astonishment at the hundreds of sex toys that covered the wall from top to bottom. “I’ve been missing out.” They had cute names and cute ‘mascots’ stamped on the boxes that held the toys within. You saw bunnies and panda bears and pretty colours like pink, purple, and sky blue.

Dean chuckled behind you and you turned to watch him roll his eyes as he looked to the side. You followed his gaze and you were bombarded with lewd sex books. One of them was open on a bookstand to a page with a man and woman having sex in a position that seemed too acrobatic to actually be pleasurable. You blinked, jaw dropped in shock, and turned your eyes to Dean whose cheeks turned deep red when he met your gaze.

“I’d break something if we tried this!” You exclaimed to make things worse for Dean, and took the same book that resided next to it to quickly flip through it, not nearly as excitedly as you’d hate to admit you were. “This can’t be purely for my enjoyment. Although this one looks hot! Imagine if you did tha- hey!” Dean snatched the book from your hands when two women giggled as they walked around the two of you. 

You looked up at him innocently, but mostly seductively when he pulled you into the lingerie section. He shoved the book he’d forgotten about into one of the shelves. Now you knew why he decided to take you this early in the morning. The shop was practically empty after two hours of being open. And Dean, the grumpy morning person he was, hurried you into getting dressed so you could arrive ‘early’ after checking his phone a couple of times. (You imagined he checked the hours and days the shop was less busy and it amused you further.)

“You need to take this seriously,” he murmured, his attention mostly focused on one of the sets above your head. You bit your lip to hide your smirk, but failed and grinned mischievously at him. 

“I am!” You pouted, subtly looking at the lingerie set that caught his eye. He gave you a look and you defensively crossed your arms over your chest and turned away from him. “Fine! I’ll pick something, go ask one of the women what they recommend for us, you know, something we can share-” 

“What?” Dean suddenly sounded more embarrassed and in disbelief at your request. You could feel him get closer and your skin prickled with foreshadowing excitement. 

“Oh, come on.” You turned to punch his arm gently, but he still rubbed the spot. “It’ll be cute to them, just let me look around some more… Please?” He bit his lip thoughtfully and you did the same to hold back a moan at the sight of him in a plain black t-shirt and the same sweatpants he’d abandoned the night before when he made you choke on his dick and beg for him to-

“Okay, baby.” He leaned down to peck your lips and then kissed your forehead as your stomach lurched with elation and your breath bubbled in your chest. You smiled softly at him, your dirty memory evaporating like a puddle in the middle of summer. 

You tried to act as casually as you could after stepping out of the dressing room at the back of the sex shop and looked for where Dean was. The same woman—Alison—who’d helped you get away with your secret, winked at you as she talked Dean’s ear off about the toy you figured one of the other employees suggested to Dean. 

You carried a small bullet vibrator Alison suggested—for discrete purposes—and a lingerie set. Not the one Dean was staring at earlier, you were currently wearing it beneath your lavender dress. Alison was clearly devious and not judgmental about your request when you’d approached her about it. 

Dean visibly relaxed when he saw you and you smiled at him as he thanked Alison. Your eyes dropped to the box and you quickly read Tenuto Mini and you lifted a brow inquiringly at Dean.

“Well, if you have any more questions, I’d be happy to help!” Alison chirped and smiled wide as she walked off. You pursed your lips and watched her long brown hair sway across her back. Suddenly, you began to second-guess your daring move.

“Sweetheart.” Dean’s hand finding yours pulled you out of your flight-freeze state. 

“Hey,” you breathed and attempted to smile normally at him, “find something good?” 

His eyes slowly moved across your face and you felt your cheeks become warm. Could he read your mind, suddenly? You forced yourself to think of food and your favourite places to have lunch in order to push away your sexual thoughts. Fear is never good for you. 

“I dunno,” he murmured unenthusiastically. Your smile fell and concern wrinkled your forehead as you traced the beautiful features of his face to get a read on him. 

“What do you mean?” You laughed softly.

 “I just… don’t feel…” he trailed off. 

“Yeah?” You managed to utter past the knot in your throat.

He stepped closer to you, his gentle hand tapped under your chin in what you think was an attempt to comfort you, and opened his mouth to finally get the moment over with, but he shut it faster than you’d like. 

“Dean, what’s-” 

“I don’t feel hot… anymore,” he blurted out under his breath. 

It was like a cold bath, icy water that killed the fire of both your anxiety and your arousal. You frowned hard, feeling deeply troubled and somewhat hurt by his admission. 

“Oh…” you whispered. You watched him bite his lip and longed to be the one who sank your teeth against the plushness of them. You had no idea what to say to him, to comfort him, or even to change his mind about it. You never really considered that he felt that way about himself and part of you wondered when or why he began having those feelings. 

“Let’s just go.” He attempted to take the things you were holding, but you felt more confident now about what you were planning. Have you failed as his girlfriend? You were more than happy to prove him wrong by going through with your dirty plan. 

“No,” you asserted, “I don’t know when you started feeling that way, but I don’t agree.” 

“Let’s… not do this here,” he said quietly, his hand slid up to your elbow. A small group of people entered the store, the bell above the door announced their arrival, and you huffed petulantly. He pulled you closer and you felt agitated—by his words—and wondered how you were even going to play your game out without making him uncomfortable.

“Fine, but we are buying these.” You plucked the toy from his hands and turned away to pay for them yourself before he could argue against it. 

The car-ride back home was tense and awkward.

You were horny, upset, troubled, and deep in thought. 

Your eyes occasionally drifted over to where Dean sat, his hands wrapped lazily around the steering wheel, legs slightly parted—relaxed. He was deep in thought himself, you could tell by the way he bit his lip and occasionally tapped his thumb against the steering wheel.  

You could feel your frown deepening the longer you stared at him and the deeper you fell into the black hole of your thoughts, the more troubled you felt. 

How could he not feel hot when you currently wanted to jump his bones and he wasn’t even trying to be sexy? But that was just you. And you had no idea how to comfort him. Or what to say. Just in general, you didn’t know what to do. Would he believe a word you said? Just because you felt it, doesn’t mean he did, too. And that was clear from the way he expressed he felt unattractive, despite the way you were clearly more than pleased to even lay your eyes on him.

He was so beautiful.

For the most part, in the past, you did feel slightly insecure. So you understood how he felt now. But once you started dating, your insecurity went down significantly. And now that the two of you were married, you didn’t doubt for a second that he thought you were beautiful. 

Nearly every morning, it was normal for you to express how displeased you were to see him walk out the door for work or having to walk out earlier than him to work yourself. How could it be that he somehow felt not hot when you shamelessly drooled over him in a t-shirt and sweats? You worshipped the ground he walked on and more than loved to be at his mercy. 

You hoped at least what happened last night would prove something to him. If the way he had you on your knees, barely allowing you to touch yourself as you took his cock down your throat meant anything to him. Or if the way he made you beg and cry for him to let you orgasm after teasing you with his tongue, fingers, and cock proved anything. You hoped the memory of all of that proved him wrong, basically. 

He was all you could think about, always.

Now, your mind was filled with ideas of what you’d do to watch him beg and whimper for you, too. To make him get grabby and rough with you from how much you teased him. To make him delirious by keeping him from his orgasm. To tease him with slow strokes of your hands, your mouth, or your pussy, whatever would make him pound you into the mattress until you came too many times to speak or think coherently. 

You wanted to feel him all over your body. You wanted to feel his warm cum inside you. To see the bruises of his fingertips on your hips. To feel the sensitivity and puffiness of your nipples from his mouth. To feel raw and tender and wet between your legs from whatever he decided to use to please you. To feel the soreness in your muscles of having been fucked.

You wanted to see the fierce possessiveness in his green eyes. To kiss the red blush on his freckled cheeks. To hear the arousing sounds of his pleasure rumbling deeply through his chest. To watch the mind-numbing pleasure contort his beautiful face. To see and feel the way his body became taut and tense as it moved with yours. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

“What?” It was when you turned to look at him that you felt your thighs relax slightly. They were slick with your arousal and you were only half-ashamed about it. You felt hotter than you already were and shifted your hips shamelessly, only to feel the Impala’s air-conditioning cool the wetness of your neediness against your cunt. Your eyes fell to his hand as it wrapped around your thigh, his fingers squeezed the sides and you instantly imagined him doing it to your neck. You felt a rapid jolt of pleasure on your clit and pressed your lips together as you caught yourself imagining the look on his face if he dared to sneak his fingers higher to feel the dampness of your arousal against your inner thighs. You attempted to remain composed. “I’m fine,” you smiled, then bit your lip to save yourself from smiling too much or not enough.

He looked at you for a few moments and your heart only began to beat faster with each passing second. Dean turned slightly to face you and you realised that you were home when you caught a glimpse of your neighbour’s lemon tree out of the corner of your eye.

What you’d give to ask Dean to steal some off the branches that hung over on your side of the yard. Just to watch his shirt ride up, to reveal his sun-kissed skin, with his sweats hanging low on his hips, his arms flexing to reach the juiciest and perfect lemons for you-

“You’re not mad are you?” Dean’s hand slid up your thigh to grasp your hip and you held your breath—hoping he’d pull you into his lap. 

“What? Of course not!” You breathed out when he squeezed gently, awaiting your response. He sighed softly in relief and smiled, his hand moved away and you frowned at the loss of his touch. “I’m… horny,” you admitted bravely and watched his eyes widen and his face turn red.

“Really?” He chuckled breathlessly. He suddenly looked more confident and relaxed. He leaned forward, brushed your hair off your shoulder with his hand, and let his nose tease your jaw as the scent of your flowery perfume made his brain foggy. 

You shivered and knew you were already too far gone to play any games with him. You felt his lips ghost against your neck, one of his hands held your elbow, and his other hand moved your hair out of the way on the other side of your face. You somehow felt wetter than before and unbuckled your seatbelt to climb into his lap.

Dean’s laugh died down to a moan when you kissed him and his hands found your waist on instinct. “I really need you to fuck me,” you breathed against his parted lips. 

He had the audacity to smirk at you and brought his hands back up to your face to kiss you again instead. He was gentler, slower than you could handle at the moment. His thumb brushed against your warm cheekbone and his fingers tangled in your hair and you wished he would pull on it—hard—as he made you ride his cock. 

You whined against his mouth, so he shut you up with his tongue sliding in between your lips to meet yours. Your arousal felt uncomfortable between your legs and your skin began to heat up even more the harder your heart pounded in your chest. You ached for him. Your body ached for him. You wanted to feel him where he’d been a million times before and your body tingled excitedly at the thought of his touch. 

You moved his hand from your face and guided it between your bodies so he could feel just how desperate and serious you were about your request. He continued to kiss you, allowing you to guide him. Your lips tingled with endless desire and he soothed your need by sucking on your lip and nibbling possessively on your reddened flesh. He gasped against your mouth and nearly choked on his whimper when his fingertips grazed your lace panties, now completely soaked in your wetness.

You pulled away slightly to catch your breath and he pushed your underwear to the side to feel your slippery folds and entrance. It was embarrassingly easy the way he slipped two of his thick fingers into your. He moaned appreciatively when you panted hard against his flushed cheek and he squirmed, biting hard on his lip.

You began to undulate your hips when he perfectly curled his fingers against your walls and thumbed at your swollen clit, keeping your wet folds spread apart with his index and pinky finger. “Make me finish, Dean. Fuck, I need to cum so bad,” you begged shamelessly, practically fucking yourself on his fingers, in his car, in broad daylight, of all things.

On any other occasion, you’d be utterly ashamed, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to end the pleasure of finally having Dean’s touch right where you needed him. He was so good at making you feel hot and bothered, and you were so ready and wet, you could even hear the abundance of your arousal with every movement of your hips. 

You released his wrist and sneaked your hand into his sweats, tried to find the waistband of his underwear, but instead you felt his hardened length ready against your fingers. You inhaled sharply, felt the way your pussy pulsed excitedly around his fingers, and brushed your own lower to feel the already-smeared precum on the tip of his cock. 

“Oh… fuck,” Dean murmured, wavering before his fingers slipped out of you, “not here.” 

You expressed your complaint with an irritated moan, but removed your hand from inside his pants despite feeling only minimally motivated to obey him. “You’re not wearing anything underneath… And I’m somehow supposed to contain myself?” 

His laugh was breathy and quiet against your mouth. “I don’t remember this being what you wore under your dress,” he attempted to change the subject with his accusatory tone. He bit his lip, gazing at you through those beautiful lashes of his when you forced yourself away from him. He wasn’t fully capable of hiding the mischief in his green eyes and you inhaled deeply, smiling, hoping to resist the urge to ask again for him to claim you in his car.

“I think we are both equally surprised at what we’ve found beneath each other’s clothes.” 

Dean’s playful grin was followed by laughter he couldn’t contain, a glorious sound that made the millions of dormant butterflies scatter in your stomach. You exhaled shakily and admired him, before making the wise choice of taking the bag containing your new merchandise before escaping the warmth of his car.

Dean called your name happily, but you ignored him when you heard the sexy rumble of his engine die. You stole the key from the pot containing yellow daffodils as the Impala’s door creaked shut with that same sound that brought hope to you whenever he came back home to you again. 

-> mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix

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© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[saltstarzz]

“𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮,”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: clingy!gojo x AFAB reader, SFW + NSFW. SFW: cuddling + kissing + silliness + touching + close proximity NSFW: pussy eating + rough pace + creampie + breeding kink + brief pregnancy mention + whining + pleading + aftercare

𝐚/𝐧: hello, this is technically my first post here and my first fic. had Gojo brainrot and needed to write it.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐅𝐖

clingy!gojo never once saw himself being a clingy lover by any means. He was a busy man, and never tended to stay in one place for too long, and never stayed with one person for too long either. Until you came crashing into his life.

suddenly, clingy!gojo is practically begging the higher-ups to let him stay just a little longer in japan so he can stay with you for just an extra day or so.

If clingy!Gojo had problems with personal space before, it absolutely skyrockets when you two begin dating. he's always so close to you. a couple inches to your hip, or behind you. trails alongside you when you two go out, always in your personal space by barely inches.

always has to be touching you. it's practically habit now for clingy!gojo to slip an arm around your waist to hug you closer to him or intertwine your fingers, or even sling his arm around your shoulder. he does it so much that even his students grow used to it, expecting their teacher to always be attached to your hip whenever you're around.

clingy!gojo takes initiative with every date he plans. it's always extravagant or extremely childish like a trip to an amusement park on a summer afternoon or a fancy restaurant out on a boardwalk, there's no middle ground. he's giddy and on the day of the outing, he's up under you, constantly prattling on about his plans for day while practically hip to hip.

clingy!gojo was frivolous before you started dating, and it's absolutely ramped up now that you're together. oftentimes, your shopping trips come out to thousands of yen, and clingy!gojo doesn't even bat an eye. get that cute bag you've been looking at, or those pairs of shoes you saw online, he'll cover it. sometimes, when he's away on missions overseas, he comes back with piles of souvenirs for you, all nonsensical little trinkets that reminded him of you like stickers of the American flag or pins from Spain.

and finally, when clingy!gojo is forced on a mission that takes him away from you, even for a week, he blows up your phone with nonsensical messages about his day and calls you any chance he gets. quick short sentences telling you about a bird he saw or that he stubbed his toe, and long calls where sometimes you two aren't even talking. you'll be cooking with the TV in the back and he's riding public transport, but it's the fact you two are somewhat connected, even miles away that puts clingy!gojo at ease.

“Satoru, we talked about this,” you chuckle softly, looking down at the piles and piles of trinkets and souvenirs piled up on the dining table. Keychains, and pins, and even bottle openers and handfuls of stamps, all from Brazil. “We don't have any room for more souvenirs,” you remind him gently.

And unsurprisingly, Satoru is pouting. His back straight as he stares down at the piles of souvenirs on the dining table like he's mourning the fact he can't take a stray pet home. His lips juts out and his hip is practically touching yours.

“Honey...” you gently begin but Satoru cuts you off by gently sliding out a long keychain beneath the pile.

“We can't even keep this one?” he asks, his free hand sliding into yours.

It's a keychain with your name emblazoned onto it in white text with a cheap background of a Brazilian beach. The plastic is scratched up, but there's clearly thought taken to it.

You sigh. You've never been good at telling Satoru no, especially not now with his lip jutted out and his blue eyes shimmering at you behind his blue glasses.

“Fine...”

NSFW below this cut: Minors, please DNI

: ̗̀➛ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

clingy!gojo is on an absolute mission when you two have sex. it's never routine and clingy!gojo is absolutely happy to do it. falls to his knees at the edge of the bed with your legs loosely over his shoulders and he sucks and licks and eats at your pussy like it's all he knows how to do. (bonus points if it's just after a mission)

clingy!gojo adores everything about your pussy. thinks about it constantly and when he's got it, he focuses on nothing but it. drives two of his long fingers deep into you, one at a time while he works you up to it with his tongue and slow, deep plunges. absolutely talks you through it too, nonsensical rambling consisting of a lot of L-bombs and praises, while he licks and toys with your clit.

clingy!gojo fucking loves foreplay. adores touching you and kissing over your breasts or along your tummy or running his hands up and down your sides to send goosebumps on your skin. it's his favorite thing in the entire world.

when you and clingy!gojo do end up fucking though, clingy!gojo is an absolute puddle. the moment the tip is in, clingy!gojo practically melts. his shoulders relax and his long white lashes flutter and he's groaning. thrusts all the way in the moment he feels your pussy flutter around his tip.

clingy!gojo buries his face into your shoulder while you two have sex, or into the crook of your neck. his hips are driving his cock into you over and over again at a quick and hard pace that's so mind numbingly good, you two are both basically brainless.

clingy!gojo 1 billion percent holds your hands while you fuck. intertwines your fingers with his and even kisses your knuckles or your fingers. such a big hand holder.

clingy!gojo is extremely vocal during sex too. whining about how tight you are, and how much he loves your pussy. his voice rarely cracks, but he's an absolute mess and he can't help it. pleads with you to let him go a little deeper or to let him cum inside, with the latter being on days when it's been too long since you two have had sex.

and clingy!gojo isn't even super kinky, but the days that you're safe and he can cum inside, clingy!gojo takes full advantage of it. mumbles and pleads with you to let him put a baby in you. not to give his clan an heir, but just to let him. he wants to see your tummy round and growing bigger with each passing month and that's enough to get his cock twitching. he knows you can't, given birth control or simple safe days, but he loves the idea, melts when he thinks about it.

when clingy!gojo does finally cum, he cums for a long ass time. cock nestled deep into your pussy, as rope after rope of cum flows freely into you. he's shaking through it all and sucking in breaths through his teeth, until he can finally relax.

clingy!gojo, no matter how vanilla or rough your night can be, always includes aftercare. though he doesn't specifically call it aftercare, clingy!gojo does it every night. gets you all cleaned up, rubs out any tension in your hibs or if you've had a particularly rough night, he rubs his hands soothingly over your ass. prepares a bath for you if it's harder to stand, or a shower for you both. changes out the sheets, and cuddles you throughout the night, practically crushing you under his weight.

“Satoru-- Nnh, shit!”

Deep plunge after deep plunge, you can feel the head of his cock pressing just right on a little spot inside of you. It hits its mark right every single time, and has your vision going fuzzy. You're sopping wet, soaking little rings into his cock and wetting his white hairs with every deep thrust that brings you two hip to hip.

“Satoru!”

Your boyfriend has his head nestled into the crook of your neck, his fingers intertwined with yours, pressing them down into the satin sheets. He's panting and groaning into your skin, sweat rolling down in gentle droplets over his skin.

“Baby, please... Please, let me cum inside. Please, please, please. I can't pull out. I don't want to pull out...” he whines, his voice uncharacteristically high, full of whining and pleasing.

You're not surprised he'd ask you that. Satoru loved to cum inside and watch his seed flow out from your pussy before he licked you clean. But Satoru doesn't simply stop there tonight.

“I need to put a baby in you...”

Probably a slip of the tongue, but if Satoru meant to correct himself he never does. He lifts his head as his thrusts become even faster, feverish and needy. “I need you to have my kids, baby, I need every fucking drop inside you.”