#the doubts just start taking over and it's hard to fight them off

[goosewriting]

The Aftermath

summary: reader visits Joaquín at the hospital as he wakes up from surgery.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, mention and description of injuries and medical procedures, mention of accident and explosions, brief mentions of PTSD from events in Infinity War/Endgame, self-doubts and guilt

word count: 2.2k

A/N: i started writing this the moment i came home from watching BNW. can't believe it took me this long to write for him,, he's been rotating in my mind ever since tfantws <3 we really need more fics for joaquín, he’s so blorbo coded like cmon!! 🥹🥹 if you have any recs pls send them my way!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

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Sitting by Joaquín’s hospital bed, you bring your hands to your face as you remember his accident on the Indian Ocean. You had watched the broadcast in horror, your heart in your throat as his figure fell from the sky into the open water. 

At that moment, you couldn’t help but remember the video from all those years ago, where you saw how Rhodey had fallen as well, like a rock, everyone watching, unable to do anything to stop him. Just like War Machine, Joaquín had turned uncontrollably on his descent, one of his wings ripped from the suit by the missile exploding right in his face.

You’ve been in the Avengers’ orbit since a little before the battle against Thanos on Wakanda, where you had also fought with everyone, but then got blipped. The transition back to society with a gap of 5 years had been very hard on you, and while you stayed in contact with everyone who remained, helping out whenever you could, you didn’t really have it in you to go back out to the battlefield. Even after all this time, you still have nightmares about the snap and the Battle for Earth. 

Bringing your hands back into your lap, you let out a trembling breath, clinging onto the constant soft beeping of the machinery to tether yourself to reality and not fall down a spiral of despair. Every time your eyes roam over Joaquín’s injuries, you close your eyes, pressing the base of your hands over them, then open them again. Your sight is momentarily sprinkled with dots, and as it clears, you hope for everything to have been a horrible nightmare. But once your view clears up, he’s still there. Unconscious. Hurt.

The surgery he’d been in last night had felt like it was never going to end. Still, you had stayed the whole time, and once he got out, you stayed at his side. 

It’s been several hours since Joaquín got wheeled into his room, the head medic saying he was still unconscious but stable. You shift in the armchair by the bed where you sit. One of the nurses brought you something to eat earlier since you refused to leave, the wrapper of your sandwich still in your hands as your eyes start feeling heavier and heavier, and you can’t find it in yourself to fight the welcome embrace of sleep, slowly spreading through your limbs. You’ve almost completely dozed off when you hear a groan, and immediately your grogginess dissipates. You straighten up in your seat, the wrapper falling to the floor as you scoot closer to the bed, tears stinging behind your eyes. How you still have tears left, you have no idea, given how much you’ve cried in the past hours, terrified of losing the love of your life. 

Joaquín blinks several times, scrunching his face, eyes trying to adapt to the light. He lifts his good arm, looking at the tubes attached to it, and his gaze roams the room and down his body, face contorting in pain lightly. Then his eyes land on you, and his face immediately softens.

“Hey, there,” he croaks out. 

“You’re awake,” you whisper, holding his hand in your trembling ones. “I was scared you wouldn’t.”

“Pfft, it’ll take more than a meagre explosion to defeat the Falcon,” he retorts with a pained smile.

Normally you’d laugh at his jokes, enjoying his silly side, but right now you have no humour left in you. Another wave of tears rolls down your cheeks, and his smile vanishes.

“Please don’t joke about that,” you plead, giving his hand a squeeze. “You were hit by a freaking missile. From a fighter jet. While up in the air between two armies about to start a war with each other.”

“Well, if you put it like that…” He sighs. 

There’s a moment of silence where you again study his bruised face, your gaze landing on the massive burn covering his whole shoulder, streaks of red raw skin visible on his jaw and throat. Your brows furrow in frustration.

“I should have been there,” you mumble, angry at yourself for letting this happen.

“What?” he asks, craning his neck to fully look at you.

“I should have gone with you,” you say, bringing your eyes to look up at him. “Then I could have helped and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Joaquín exhales through his nose in disbelief.

“We were in the air, and I went head to head with the missile even after Sam told me to back off,” he retorts, shaking his head. “There was nothing you could have done.”

His tone isn’t scolding; he’s telling the truth and you know it. Still, you can’t help but feel like the outcome could have been different, if you had just been better, braver. You try to choke back a sob, unsuccessful, and his hold tightens around your hand.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” He speaks your name softly. “This isn’t on you. Please don’t cry.”

You grimace, biting the inside of your cheek.

“For a moment I thought you died, Joaquín. I was so scared,” you say with a shaky breath, bringing his hand to your face, and he cups your cheek. You place your hand over his, holding onto it and leaning into his touch like it was the last time you could hold him like this.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

Your heart shatters at the thought that even after getting hurt, after getting blown up, he’s the one apologising to you. He’s about to add something when the door opens and a nurse comes in. You back off a bit and hastily wipe your face with the back of your sleeves as she does some check-ups, both on Joaquín and the machines, taking some notes on her clipboard. She then takes one of the tubes attached to his arm, and places a syringe at the other end.

“What’s that?” you ask, suspicious. She gives you a quick look with a raised brow, but when she sees the state you’re in, her face relaxes again.

“Painkillers and antibiotics. He’ll need both of them,” she explains.

It doesn’t take long for the fluids to reach Joaquín’s blood system, and he visibly relaxes against the pillows and closes his eyes.

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he sighs, and the nurse chuckles softly. You still can’t get yourself to let go of your worry. Once she’s done with everything, she leaves the way she came, exiting the room. As the door closes behind her, your eyes land on the wrapper on the floor, and you pick it up with a sniffle, crumpling it up further.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you anything?” you ask as you throw the trash into the bin from where you sit, to your surprise making the shot. He doesn't answer, eyes still closed.

“Joaquín?” you ask softly, not wanting to wake him in case he fell asleep again.

“Huh? Wha?” His eyes open and he turns to look at you, his face visibly relaxed now.

“You okay?” You take his hand again, and he gives you a squeeze.

“Hmm-mm,” he hums with a nod, blinking slowly as he tries to focus on your face. “I just think I’m… kinda high right now.”

That’s when you finally break, unable to hold back an endeared chuckle, shaking your head. Joaquín’s eyes are filled with warmth and then concern as they land on your face, brows furrowing as if he just noticed something. His hand comes up to wipe away the remaining streak of tears. He also playfully pinches your cheek for good measure, eliciting another smile of yours.

“That’s better,” he concludes, a smile spreading on his face as well. The smile that could light up any room he’s in, in your humble opinion. 

You prop your elbow onto the edge of the bed, head in your hands as you look at him, and he looks back at you with a silly grin. The beeps on the machine speed up a bit, and you look up at the screen, then back at him with a brow raised in amusement.

“Usually you can’t tell because I’m smooth as hell, but it’s true,” he notes, like a huge secret was just uncovered. “You still make my heart race.”

Heat prickles on your cheeks at his words and you avert your gaze with a snort. As long as your heart is still beating, you think, remembering that they had to resuscitate him after the accident, but you shake those thoughts away, preferring to focus on the fact that he’s still here, alive.

“I know that the moment you’re back on your feet, you’ll be out there again, suited up,” you start after a moment, shooting him a serious look. “So I won’t ask you to stop. But promise me to be more careful next time?”

“Pinky promise.” Joaquín lifts his hand, fingers curled except for his pinky, and you can’t help but chuckle as you mirror his gesture, curling your finger around his. He shakes your hand like that side to side for a bit, then drops it back down onto the bed. A strand of hair falls into his face as he leans back, and you brush it back, caressing over his bruised cheekbone gingerly. 

“When was the last time you slept?” he asks suddenly.

“Hmm.” You look at the timestamp on the muted TV in the corner, currently playing some movie or other. It’s only then that you realise you’ve been intermittently awake for almost two full days now. “Can’t really remember,” you lie.

“You need to rest. You look exhausted,” he remarks, gesturing to himself. “I’m taken care of.”

“No, I’m not leaving you,” you say, putting as much finality into your voice as you can in your state.

He says your name softly. You look away. He sighs.

“Well, if you insist on staying, then at least I can get pampered a bit, yeah?” he starts, and you narrow your eyes at him in feigned suspicion. He asks with a playful pout, “You know what would make me feel better?”

“Hmm?” 

Joaquín turns his head, offering you his cheek. You can’t help but laugh. 

“I thought you were high on painkillers already?”

“Even the best medicine holds nothing against your kisses.”

“Pfft, is that so.” Now it’s your heart’s turn to speed up. You two have been together for a while now, but he still makes you feel warm and fuzzy, and gives you butterflies in your stomach, when he isn’t on the brink of death, at least. “Well, in that case, I better get started on your dose.”

You lean forward, placing a kiss on his cheek, and he hums pleasedly. He doesn’t move, though, clearly waiting for more. You’re more than happy to oblige, placing kiss after kiss on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, being especially careful around his injuries. Finally, you hold his chin to turn his face towards you, and kiss the corner of his mouth, then his lips. It's chaste but sweet, and he smiles into it. When you lean back, his eyes are filled with love, slightly unfocused because of the meds, a goofy grin on his face. As you hold his face, you consider saying something cheesy, hoping he won’t remember it. But before you can speak, there’s a knock at the door, and someone steps in. It’s Sam. He looks surprised to see you.  

“Damn, you’re still here?” he asks with concern, then turns to Joaquín. “How’re you feeling?”

“Splendid, really,” he replies, leaning into your hand still cupping his face.

“He got a decent shot of painkillers,” you explain, looking up at Sam with a tired smile. “He’s high as a kite.”

Sam chuckles, then looks at you worriedly. 

“You need to rest. Both of you.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “Go home, I’ll take it from here.”

You hesitate, looking between the two, and Joaquín nods, his eyes pleading for you to also take care of yourself. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Joaquín says, taking your hand from his face and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

“Right,” you sigh and rise to your feet with wobbly legs now that the exhaustion is finally kicking in full force, and Sam holds you up when your knees threaten to give in. 

“Whoa there. You need a nap, ASAP.” 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” you say with a sigh, steadying yourself as he lets you go, his hands still hovering over your arms for a moment in case he has to grab you again, but you manage to stand straight. You grab your jacket from the back of the chair, and turn to Joaquín. “I’ll come back this evening, okay? I’ll bring your favourite snacks too. Don’t tell the nurse, though.” You wink at him with a knowing smile.

“You’re the best.”

“No, you are.” You lean over him to kiss him goodbye, whispering ‘I love you’ against his lips, and pecking him once more for good measure. The machine’s beeps speed up again.

“Love you too. See you later.” Joaquín brings his hand up to caress over your cheek one last time, then you leave the room.

Sam is still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking down at his friend as the beeps slowly start decreasing back to normal.

“Very cute,” he remarks, unable to bite back a teasing smile. 

“Don’t even,” Joaquín says and rolls his eyes playfully, knowing perfectly well that Sam will never let him live that down.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!]

[faydingrain]

Just for the record, I have ALWAYS wanted to make a psychological horror with a yandere main, so I've been having an absolute ball writing this dumb Fumus fanfic. I've never known how to go about writing one exactly, so this makes setting up everything a hell of a lot easier purely so I can get that desire out and down on paper finally.

It's definitely not as deep or horrifying as I could make it, but since this is just something casual I'm having fun with, I'm not worrying too much (at least right now) about getting that horror aspect down, at least in terms of Ruby's current pain and isolation. If I continue writing, there will probably definitely be some graphic violence as she walks in on his torture victims, and there may or may not be some implied rape/non-con and some dub-con depending on how far I get before I call it quits on this thing.

Sooo yeah. Fun times fun times!

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[fxstpace]

the subtle art of swinging

summary: park sunghoon is the spider-man. he's also your best friend. he's also hopelessly in love with you. between fighting crime and intercepting alien invasions, park sunghoon barely has the time to confess his feelings to you. lucky for him, you've got him covered. or, five times park sunghoon tries to ask you out, and one time you ask him out instead.

⇢ pairing: spider-man!park sunghoon x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers au, spider-man au, college au, attempts at comedy, idiots to idiots in love, 5 + 1 things ⇢ word count: 5.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, mentions of violence but absolutely nothing graphic ⇢ a/n: reposted from my old blog.

ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF SWINGING INTO A WALL

Park Sunghoon swears he isn’t trying to be stupid. 

It’s just that when he sees you, his mouth dries up, the words he want to say get stuck on the tip of his tongue and he can’t force them out no matter what, he feels his brain turn to mush and his legs turn to jelly, and—

You’re laughing. At him.

All because he swung face-first into a goddamn brick wall.

You don’t even know it’s him—he has a mask made out of spandex covering his face, thankfully—but he saw you on the street, talking to the old lady who sells churros next to the sandwich place both of you love. He may have lost all directional sense after that, because one minute he’s watching you gesture animatedly while you converse with the shopkeeper, and the next he slams solidly into the brick-red compound of the building he was supposed to swing over.

At least his webbing is still intact.

Sunghoon’s pride, on the other hand? Completely, utterly shattered.

For a minute, there’s silence—a sort of muffled, hazy silence that blankets everyone, the kind that’s impossibly rare to come by in a city which never sleeps—and then every single person whips out their phones and takes pictures, giggling to themselves throughout. It’s not every day Spider-Man accidentally swings into a wall, after all.

Sunghoon can already picture the headlines: City’s Masked Superhero Can Fight Aliens But Is Apparently Blind When Confronted By A Gigantic Barricade. Or worse. He can hear J. Jonah Jameson’s voice in his head, bellowing into the cameras, “Breaking news everyone, this just in: Spidey has been caught lackin’! Is he truly good at his job or is he just a farce? We may never know.”

He peels his head off hard brick, contorting his neck to relieve all the cricks, and that’s when he makes direct eye contact with you.

He swears his heart stops beating—but it starts again in less than a second, starts rabbiting around like it always does when he sees you, before settling back down into its regular rhythm. It’s only then that he remembers his feet and fingers are still glued to the wall.

He pries them off, wincing at the hoots and hollers from the crowd, and glances at you again. 

You have a few churros in your hand, wrapped neatly in butter paper—no doubt a gift from the old lady—and you have your phone in your hand. He watches your fingers fly rapidly over the screen, notices the slight tilt to your head, the way your tongue pokes out of your lips slightly, the amusement at his mishap still running through your veins.

He hears the ping of the notification through his mask before you even put your phone down. 

The letters swim in front of his eyes, on the screen in front of him.

(11:36) Y/N: HOONIE!!!! u wont BELIEVE what i just saw!!!! I SAW SPIDERMAN CRASH INTO A WALL LMFAOOOO

Sunghoon winces. He should probably tell you that there’s a hyphen separating the words ‘spider’ and ‘man’, but he doesn’t want to burst your obvious elation at the city’s most prominent superhero’s accident. (Despite the fact that you’re the cause for him losing all 

common sense, in the first place.)

He doesn’t get the chance to form another coherent thought before a yell from below gets his attention. Specifically because it’s your voice.

“Hey!” You have your hands placed on your waist, your bundle of churros tucked into the corner of your arm as you squint up at him. “Need some help getting down?”

Unlike the jeers of the onlookers with their phones still out, you don’t sound malicious at all. You sound genuinely concerned, as though he isn’t Spider-Man, who’s fought off a hundred different villains and rescued the earth from alien infestations. You talk to him like he’s just a regular guy who accidentally swung onto a building and now finds himself in this precarious position.

His chest warms at the thought. “No thanks!” he hollers back. “I’m good.”

He lets his feet loosen up, feels his muscles relax and then he pushes himself off the wall, letting the momentum pull him through a graceful somersault before he lands softly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” You ignore the passersby.

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon replies. “Are you okay?”

You look at him strangely, and Sunghoon can feel his cheeks heat up. “I’m not the one who almost broke my nose because I wasn’t looking at where I was going.”

Sunghoon shifts from one foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You have a point, he supposes. He clears his throat. “Right, um. Thanks for offering to help me out.”

“No problem,” you reply easily, the corners of your lips rising upwards. “I’m glad you’re okay. Can’t have our city’s best line of defence get obliterated because of a wall.”

Sunghoon’s not sure whether he’s supposed to feel happy about the fact that you’re worried about him despite not knowing who he is or if he’s supposed to be embarrassed at you pointing out his lapse of attention.

“Listen,” he begins, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through his veins, run its course throughout his body, and settle at his heart, “do you… maybe want to get some coffee with me? As a thank you. For offering to help.”

You raise an eyebrow sceptically. “I’m not sure that warrants a coffee date.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon hurriedly says, heart thumping erratically, “I swear. I just want to thank you.”

You purse your lips, drawing out a sigh that’s in between contemplation and refusal. Sunghoon’s heart sinks—he knows that expression of yours all too well. “I’m sorry, Spider-Man. You’re a great superhero and I’m sure you’re a really nice person behind the mask, but… I’m actually running late for a meet-up with my best friend. I’m sorry.” You shrug apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

“Okay, uh—” Sunghoon licks his lips— “n-no worries. I’ll see you around.”

“Break a leg, Spider-Man.” You salute him with two fingers. “Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

He manages a smile, then realises you can’t see it through his mask—and then realises that the friend who’s meet-up you’re running late to is with him, so he’s going to see you again, anyway. The thought makes him smile again, this time wider, and he can feel his cheeks crinkle at the corners.

He stretches an arm out, presses his web shooter and swings onto the top of the building. Maybe he’ll have to deal with you retelling the story of how he crashed into a wall with extreme detail and lots of exaggeration, and Sunghoon should probably feel extremely embarrassed about it. Instead, he finds himself looking forward to it.

Maybe he should crash into walls more often.

TWO — THE SUBTLE ART OF ACCIDENTALLY ASKING YOUR PROFESSOR OUT

Park Sunghoon is decidedly fucked.

He’s late—unbearably so—but what else is he supposed to do if a platoon of aliens show up in the middle of his Introduction to Organic Chemistry class and he has to stop them from blowing up the president’s summer retreat? Once the situation is wrapped up and the foreign visitors agree to sign a peace treaty with earth, he’s effectively missed three classes, skipped lunch, and is currently running late to a study session you planned out after classes.

He supposes he can make up for it—he’s not sure how, but… something is better than nothing, right? He swings down in front of a flower shop, hurriedly asks for a bouquet and a box of chocolates, places a wad of money bills on the counter and swings away. The whole interaction takes place in less than fifteen minutes, but Sunghoon is in a hurry. He has a slew of texts from you, all detailing the same thing: That if he doesn’t magically appear in the next ten minutes, you’re leaving, and you better make it up to him somehow.

Sunghoon touches down on the rooftop of your university’s library and quickly removes his Spider-Man suit, stuffing it into his backpack and shouldering it. He heads down the fire escape, taking two steps at a time, and comes to a standstill in front of the Biology section of the library. It’s the least crowded part of the library, which is why you and Sunghoon have chosen it as your designated spot.

He sees you immediately and braces himself for the telltale quickening of his heart. You smile at him as soon as you spot him, raising a hand in greeting. Books and sheets of paper are scattered around the table in front of you, and your hair is messy, swept up hastily. You’re wearing your favourite sweater with the coffee stain down the front, because even though it’s not something you would wear in public, it’s still the most comfortable piece of clothing you own.

Sunghoon’s lips curl upwards on their own accord. The words form on the tip of his tongue, as they always do. He wants to tell you—he’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you—and it would be so easy to confess right then and there. He walks towards you.

Fate is never kind to him, it seems.

Sunghoon keeps his eyes fixed on you, which is why he doesn’t notice his Organic Chemistry professor walk right across him.

In his defence, Professor Kwon is short, with a head full of bountiful grey curls and a pink flower-patterned umbrella always tucked underneath her arm. She barely comes up to Sunghoon’s shoulders, so she’s never in Sunghoon’s line of vision unless he’s sitting down.

It’s no wonder he collides into her. 

Professor Kwon lets out a startled “Ooh!”, the stack of papers in her hand flying out of grip and falling around him and his teacher like snowflakes on a winter morning. She twists her lips at him, mouth downturned like she just sucked a lemon raw, and tuts disapprovingly at him.

Sunghoon feels his cheeks blaze as he bends down and gathers all the loose sheets of paper and stacks them. He doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re gleefully watching the whole encounter. He tucks the bouquet and chocolates into the crook of his arm and hands the stack of papers to Professor Kwon, mumbling an apology.

“Well, you better be sorry,” she says, looking up and down at him—except she has to crane her neck at him to meet his eyes, and the sight is so hilarious, Sunghoon needs to stifle his laughter. Then her eyes narrow in recognition, and Sunghoon stiffens, dread pooling in his stomach. 

She pauses for a minute. “Aren’t you the young man who ran out halfway through my class? Is your stomach feeling better now?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you snort and then cover it up as a cough. 

Sunghoon wants to melt into the floor, pretend like he’s one of the tiles on the ground. “Yes ma’am,” he answers politely instead, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him.

“Hmm.” She scrutinises him carefully, reaching out with her free hand and pinching his stomach. “Indigestion is a serious issue, young man. Make sure you have enough ginger in your diet—it helps with your toilet problems.”

“I will, ma’am.”

“Now, how do you plan to make up for your lost lesson?” 

Sunghoon licks his lips. “I’m… not sure, ma’am. I could come over for a remedial class—”

“Oh, please. You insult me.” Professor Kwon lets out a giggle. “Remedial classes are such mediaeval methods. These days teachers will let anything go for a small price. Young, handsome men like you especially…”

Sunghoon nearly chokes on his own spit. “I—”

“Just some flowers and chocolates will be fine,” his teacher waves him off good-naturedly, as though this is a conversation she has all the time. Her eyes land pointedly on the flowers and the chocolate box still tucked safely in his arms. 

“Oh. Um.” Sunghoon curses his luck. He’s Spider-Man, after all—shouldn’t he get some slack? All he wants is to ask you out, and if not that, at least spend some time with you without getting caught up in outworldly situations all the time. 

Professor Kwon’s expression turns serious upon noticing his hesitation. “Of course, not every teacher is as lenient as I’m being. Some would—and I’m really just throwing it out here—assign compensatory essays, or—”

He hurriedly shoves the bouquet and the chocolates into Professor Kwon’s waiting arms. 

“No, ma’am. Thank you very much for being so kind to me.”

“Not a bother, not a bother,” she waves him off again, smiling thinly at him. “Anything for my students.”

Sunghoon bows and waits patiently for her to skitter away from him, finally letting out a loose breath that has his shoulders slumping forward and his head hanging dejectedly. He drags himself to your table, places his bag on the desk, and buries his head into his arms in such a way that half his upper body is spread-eagled across the wooden desk. A tired, muffled groan escapes his lips.

“Rough day?” Your voice is soft, and you tentatively reach out and gently run a hand through his hair.

Sunghoon lets out another groan in response, closing his eyes when he feels your touch. He lifts up his head and props his chin on the desk, glancing at you. You have a soft smile playing on your lips, eyes twinkling.

“You recorded all of that, didn’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question; Sunghoon has all your tendencies mapped out in his head, and you would never pass up on an opportunity to record his humiliation.

“Yup.” You grin at him, patting your pocket where your phone is stowed away. “I won’t show it to anyone, don’t worry.”

It’s a small consolation. He decides to let it slide. “By the way, the flowers and the chocolates were for you. To apologise for being late.”

“Oh.” To Sunghoon’s surprise, you sound… bashful, almost. His heart skitters at the revelation. “That’s alright. I’m not a big fan of flowers anyway. Are you hungry? You skipped lunch, too, didn’t you? We could go get some ramen.”

“That sounds good.” Sunghoon smiles wearily at you. He just hopes there isn’t another national emergency to divert his attention from you and the time he gets to spend with you.

THREE — THE SUBTLE ART OF ALMOST DATING YOUR HOMIE

Sunghoon’s not sure his roommate, Lee Heeseung, is completely normal.

He’s the only one who knows about Sunghoon’s secret identity, and Sunghoon relies on him to make up some believable reason for his often and sudden disappearances. The last time, when he had to escape in the middle of his Organic Chemistry class and that whole debacle with Professor Kwon took place, Heeseung had said Sunghoon had indigestion. He assumes his roommate has fun coming up with excuses. As long as his secret remains safe, Sunghoon’s not too concerned.

Despite all the help Heeseung has provided him with, he wants nothing more than to toss him over their shared apartment’s balcony.

For the past half an hour, he’s been consistently badgering him. Specifically about you.

“Have you told her you like her yet?”

The question drags a tired sigh out of Sunghoon’s lips. He’s hunched over his Physics textbook, scribbling down notes, and he could really appreciate some peace—but that’s not something he should expect when he lives with the human equivalent of a hamster on a wheel.

“No, Heeseung,” he reiterates, “I haven’t had the time.”

Heeseung flops dramatically across the couch. “Dude. You need serious help.”

“Do I?” Sunghoon murmurs absent-mindedly, wondering how to calculate the coefficient of friction with the variables he’s been given.

“Yes.” When he notices his roommate not paying attention to him, Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Stop doing homework, you have more important matters to attend to.”

Sunghoon finally tears his tired gaze away from the numericals printed out on the page. He locks eyes with Heeseung, barely aware of the tic in his left eye. “Like what?”

His roommate throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Like Y/N! And the fact that you’re in love with her!”

“Okay.”

“This isn’t going to work. C’mere.” He gestures to Sunghoon to come sit next to him on the couch. Once he makes his way to the couch and sits next to him, Heeseung takes both his hands in his. “Consider this an intervention.”

Sunghoon leans back and lets his head fall against the couch cushions. This is going to be good.

“Okay, so,” Heeseung begins, “she doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man—no one knows that except me—but you love her, don’t you? Just walk up to her, tell her you can show her something she’s never seen before, swing her up to a rooftop somewhere, and watch the sunset with her. Tell her you love her and that you can’t live without her, and your heart beats only for her—trust me, girls love romantic stuff like that—and then tell her you’re also Spider-Man. Easy.”

All Sunghoon can do is laugh. There’s no way Heeseung is serious about this.

“I’m being serious,” Heeseung says. “How long are you going to keep hiding this from her? Y/N’s your best friend, don’t you think you should tell her that you’re basically in mortal peril every other day?”

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling her,” Sunghoon says. “What if some villain finds out she’s special to me and does something to her to get back at me?”

His friend looks dubious. “You really think that could happen?”

“Yes.” Sunghoon turns his head to look at Heeseung. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you either.”

Heeseung chews his lip thoughtfully. “I kind of see what you mean. But…” He squeezes Sunghoon’s hand once, gently. “It’s Y/N. I think she would want to know.”

Sunghoon considers it—for a brief half-minute, he actually thinks about it—and then shakes his head. “It’s better to keep her safe.”

You have the worst possible timing. (Perhaps it’s Sunghoon’s fault for having given you a spare key to his apartment.)

The door swings open and you walk into the living room, two bags of takeaway in your hand. “Guess who’s got food!”

Then you pause, survey the situation in front of you, and your jaw drops.

Sunghoon and Heeseung, both on the couch, sitting so close to each other, their knees are brushing. Sunghoon’s hands are still being held by Heeseung, the latter rubbing circles on his palm. Belatedly, Sunghoon realises what this must look like to you.

He shoots up to his feet. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Oh my God.” You raise your arms. “Am I interrupting something? I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I’ll just—”

“No, wait! Heeseung and I, we’re not—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Your repeated reassurances don’t do anything to assure him. “You guys look good together! Congratulations on graduating from cherry boy university, Hoon!”

Sunghoon lowers his head, crimson creeping up his cheeks. He turns around and faces Heeseung, who’s busy snickering on the couch. “This is all your fault.”

You look between them curiously. “Are you both dating?”

“No,” Sunghoon says at the same time Heeseung says, “Possibly.”

He glares at his friend. “No, Y/N, we are not together. Heeseung knows I like someone else.”

“You like someone else?”

There’s the barest hint of hurt in your tone, a slight hitch in your voice that Sunghoon picks up on easily. “I—yes.”

“You never told me.” 

Your voice is carefully calm and you fiddle with the handle of the takeaway bags. Sunghoon winces; he takes a step forward and grabs your elbow, gently forcing you to look up at him. “I was going to tell you. I just… forgot.”

It's the worst possible excuse he could come up with. Your eyes harden. Thankfully, Heeseung swoops in. “He’ll tell you soon, Y/N. He just never has good timing.”

You poke your tongue in the inside of your cheek. “It… doesn’t matter. I brought Chinese,” you say, lips pursed into a threadbare smile, “so all that’s left is to pick the movie.”

You move into the living room and playfully poke Heeseung’s legs to make space. Sunghoon closes the door behind you, a heavy feeling in his gut.

He’s fucked up. Big time. No matter what, he can’t get the look of dejectedness on your face out of his mind.

Sunghoon decides he’s going to tell you. Somehow. Even if you don’t return his feelings, at least he’ll be free of the burden of keeping them hidden. 

With new conviction in his head, he strides over to where you are.

FOUR — THE SUBTLE ART OF GETTING HIT ON

Sunghoon loves you—he really does—but despite his obvious affection towards you, he still thinks you’re acting slightly (read: extremely) delusional.

“A… Spider-Man love blog?” he asks weakly, sitting opposite you.

“Yeah!” You nod your head vigorously, obviously excited. “J. Jonah Jameson started a Spider-Man conspiracy theory blog, so I figured I need to start a blog to support Spider-Man and all his endeavours. Too much hate is a bad thing, and… well, he is kind of hot. Objectively speaking.”

Sunghoon doesn’t know whether to grimace at the fact that J. Jonah Jameson started a page on conspiracy theories about him, laugh at the fact that you want to start a blog to support him, or melt like an ice cream on a hot summer afternoon at the fact that you just called him objectively hot.

He tries to do a mixture of all three. You glance at him, concerned. “Did you just have a stroke or something?”

Sunghoon purses his lips together, going back to his usual deadpan expression. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you say dismissively. “Well, what do you think of the blog idea?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Sunghoon agrees. “It’s like a little Spider-Man support group. Except you aren’t suffering from addiction.”

“Exactly!” you agree, perking up even more. “That’s actually a really cool slogan, thanks Hoon.”

“No problem.” Sunghoon feels his mouth dry, but before he can second guess himself, he says, “Hey, you said Spider-Man is hot?”

“Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

“You know who else is hot?”

“Tom Holland?” Your eyes widen excitedly. “Oh, I know! Andrew Garfield!”

“No—I mean, yes but—” Sunghoon heaves out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

You cock your head to the side. “Who do you mean, then?”

He takes in a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm down. “I was talking about—”

He’s about to say you when the fire alarm rings. You stand up, eyes widening—not with excitement, but with panic flaring up inside you. Sunghoon stands up too; how did he not notice something was off? The hair at the back of his neck tingles. He needs to get you out of here—now.

“Y/N,” he says hurriedly, “you need to leave. Go out the fire escape.” He shoves you none too gently towards the fire escape, but you stumble forward and then stop.

“Hoon,” you say, and he can hear the mounting fear in your voice, “what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he assures. A series of bangs follows his statement, and he narrows his eyes at the direction of the sound. “But you need to leave. Now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but when you hear a loud clang echo down the stairwell, you close your mouth and run towards the staircase. Sunghoon waits for you to disappear from his sight, before turning on his heel and grabbing his suit from his bag.

God, supervillains really have the worst timing. All Sunghoon wanted to do was tell you he thought you were hot, too, but that he found you more beautiful than anything else.

FIVE — THE SUBTLE ART OF EXPOSING YOUR CRUSH

Sunghoon is so, so tired.

He lands in front of a small, quiet lake in a park you used to come to with him. The ambience is perfect for when you want to spend time alone, in solitude. A family of ducks paddles gently over the water; it’s peaceful and serene—completely unlike the destruction he just had to deal with, and the  turbulence currently running through his mind.

He pulls his mask off his head and runs a tired hand through his hair. Wearily, he sinks down onto the grass, feeling the cool breeze caress his skin and the rustle of the leaves of the giant tree under whose shade he’s sitting.

He blinks once, slowly, and then again, and when a duck lets out a quack, he opens his mouth and lets everything spill out, like sand pouring through an overturned hourglass.

(He’s aware he’s talking to ducks. He doesn’t care.)

“Screw this shit. I never wanted to be a hero, you hear me? I never wanted to be bitten by a stupid spider, I didn’t ask for all this—I didn’t ask for all this! God, what does a guy need to do to have some time to tell his best friend he’s in love with her?!”

His rant falls on silent ears—but then, he hears the crunch of dried leaves, and he whips around.

Your head pokes out from behind the tree trunk. “Hoon?”

“Y/N,” he breathes out, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—”

“You said you’d be right behind me!” Despite the false bravado in your voice, he can hear how wobbly you actually sound.

“I-I was. Technically.” He takes a tentative step towards you, one arm stretched out placatingly.

“You never told me you were Spider-Man!” Your voice increases in pitch steadily with each word.

“I didn’t tell you to protect you—”

“Oh my God, you were in mortal peril every day and I didn’t even know!”

“Heeseung said the same thing, but—”

“Heeseung knew all along, of course he did!”

“I only told him because—”

“And—and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me!”

“Okay, I wasn’t telling you, I was telling the ducks, but—”

“Sunghoon!” You throw your hands up in the air wildly, gaze roaming rapidly across his face. “You’re in love with me!”

He sucks in a breath sharply. “I feel like that’s not the most important thing here.”

Of all the ways he thought he would confess to you, this is decidedly not something that crossed his mind even once. He’d always pictured flowers, holding your hand, maybe even a romantic stroll down this very park. He’d certainly never imagined you’d find out about both his secrets on the same day—all while he was busy ranting about his hero complex to a bunch of birds who didn’t pay him any attention.

“Y/N,” he tries again, “please let me explain.”

You shake your head. “No. There’s nothing there to explain.”

With that, you turn away and walk past him. Sunghoon’s heart sinks. He crumples the material of the mask in his hand, feeling the cloth twist underneath his fingertips just like his heart twists into knots with every step you take away from him.

PLUS ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF KISSING YOUR BEST FRIEND

You have Sunghoon cornered, your arms crossed across your chest and your expression stern. “You need to listen to me.”

Sunghoon gulps. It’s been a week since he accidentally let both his secrets slip, and this is the first time he’s talking to you in person since then. You’d sent him a text with a simple message. Library, first thing after lunch. Sunghoon had complied, and here he is now.

“So. Heeseung explained everything to me,” you say. 

“He—he did?”

You glance at him shortly. “Yeah, he did. I… I understand why you didn’t tell me about—about your condition, Hoon. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he replies immediately. “If I found out my best friend was a secret vigilante risking his life every day, I think I’d react the same way.”

You smile at him then, and his heart jumps inside his chest. He smiles back. “But that’s not the main reason I called you here,” you continue. “What I really called you here for was…”

You trail off, looking down, and Sunghoon is hit with a sudden sense of nostalgia. Why are you being so bashful around him all of a sudden? “Was…” he gently prompts.

You swallow, lifting up your chin and looking him in the eye. “I wanted to tell you that I’m in love with you too.”

Park Sunghoon swears time stops, and the whole world comes to a standstill. The words ring in his ears, echoing inside his head. His lips part, and he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“I—Say that again.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

He sees the flicker in your eyes, notices how you’re ready to compete with him for this. “I love you, Park Sunghoon. I don’t care about the fact that you’re Spider-Man.”

Sunghoon takes a step towards you, holding your shoulders gently, like you’re made of glass. “I love you too.”

You grin at him, your own arms encircling his waist and coming to rest on his back. “I know that.”

And then you tip your head forward and capture his lips with your own. He gasps at first, before kissing you back with equal force, one hand tugging you closer to him and the other curving around your torso.

You giggle into the kiss, and Sunghoon’s lips twitch upwards. He’s giddy, weightless, floating through the air like a feather being carried by the wind. The feeling he gets when he’s swooping through the rooftops of the city is nothing compared to the feeling of your lips slotted against his and his arms wrapped around you.

Park Sunghoon swears he doesn’t try to act stupid normally. But if it makes you smile, he’s willing to do anything.

[rafesangelita]

Toxic!Rafe and toxic!reader, where they’re fighting because he wants to go out to a strip bar with Topper and Kelce which reader hates (she thinks they encourage his bad behavior) after she told him no. so when reader goes on insta to look at Rafes story and sees he lied and went anyways after seeing a pic of him in the sniffers row at the bar, she gets all crazy and starts responding to the story with full paragraphs 😭 and so when he starts replying she blocks him mid argument, and he goes home and yells at her until they get all lovey dovey again 🥰 (sorry this is long)

warnings: toxic relationship (?), slight humor, cussing, lying, crying, shouting, arguing, mentions of sex, a little plot twist at the end

wc: 2.0k

“..i don’t know about that, man. y/n has a bitch fit everytime i go somewhere without her, i highly doubt she’d be okay with me going there of all places.” you stood outside your bedroom door, rolling your eyes at the sound of topper’s voice. “who cares what she says? she’s not your fuckin’ mommy, bro.” you suppressed a laugh, knowing rafe has called you ‘mommy’ a numerous amount of times. your boyfriend sighed, staying silent for a moment. “look, i’ll ask her alright? if she says no then i ain’t going.” you smiled to yourself, walking into the room with a fresh stack of t-shirts in your hands.

“here she is now, i’ll call you back.” you placed the folded laundry on top of the dresser. “tell the spawn of satan herself we say hello!” kelce shouted in the background. “aww is that dumb and dumber on the phone? hey, guys!” rafe shook his head, a laugh tumbling out of his throat. he hung up the call, getting up to wrap his arms around your waist. you leaned into him, breathing in his cologne as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “listen, uh, topper and kelce are inviting me out tonight, ‘wanted to know if i can join them..” you arched a brow, turning around in his hold.

“and where do y’all plan on going?” rafe cleared his throat awkwardly. “well.. you know how the guys are, they always wanna go to some new place..” he trailed off, clearly stalling as much as he could. “just say it, rafe.” he swallowed nervously. “a strip club.” suddenly his hands felt tense on your skin, and he couldn’t hold your stare. “a strip club?” you repeated, pulling away from him. “that’s cute, but no.” rafe tongued the inside of his cheek, immediately taking out his phone.

[4:30 PM] to: topper, kelce: i’m in, pick me up at nine.

“what are you doing?” you eyed him as he brought the phone up to his ear, walking around to the other side of the bed. “m’telling them i can’t go, because you’re gonna be all pissed off if i do.” you scoffed, eyeing him carefully. rafe cursed under his breath, praying to god you couldn’t tell he wasn’t actually calling anyone. “hey, bro. i can’t go, it’s a hard no.” he scratched the back of his neck. “yeah, i know. maybe another time- wait, where?” rafe stopped pacing, nodding along to his own imagination. “pizza and beer? that sounds good. nine o’clock? alright i’ll see y’all then.” he shrugged as he pretended to hang up.

“alright, no strip club, but charlie’s pizza instead, is that alright?” you nodded. “that’s fine, but you better text me.” he jumped up, pulling you into a hug that ended with you two falling in bed. “i mean it rafe, i want pizza pictures and everything!” he showered you with kisses, taking his time when he got to your lips. you two stayed like that for a few minutes, making out softly before you pulled away. “you should start getting ready before i get too horny, ‘cause then i really won’t let you go anywhere.” you ran your thumb over his bottom lip, sighing when he got up. “good call.” he laughed, getting an outfit ready for tonight.

nine o’clock rolled around faster than you wanted it to, and sure enough topper and kelce were outside honking like maniacs once they pulled up. “i love you, baby, i’m gonna text you in a bit.” you smiled, watching him holler all the way down to where topper and kelce practically tackled him. “we promise to have him home no later than one, mommy dearest!” you gave kelce the middle finger, shutting the door once rafe blew you a kiss. now that you had the house to yourself you figured you’d shower and unwind, maybe finish the book you had been reading. all was well until you glanced at the time on your phone. 10:45 PM, and still no word from rafe.

you opened instagram, spotting the green circle around your boyfriend’s profile picture, indicating he had posted on his close friends. you clicked on it, your heart dropping at the video of rafe throwing money at a stripper’s ass. “front row seats, baby!” he cheered. just as you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the next story was a photo of a blonde sitting in rafe’s lap, topless and smiling from ear to ear. “this motherfucker..” you closed the app, deciding you saw enough before opening you and rafe’s text thread on imessage.

[10:55 PM] - i don’t know what’s funnier; the fact that you had a whole conversation with yourself in front of me to make it sound like you were just getting pizza and beer with your dickhead friends, or forgetting to take me off your close friends list when you want to post yourself at some sleazy ass strip club. you’re a fucking joke.

rafe had never sobered up so fast in his life, all the blood draining from his face when he read your message. “fuck!” he cursed at himself, his head resting in his hands.

[11:10 PM] my <333: baby i promise i’ll explain everything, i’m telling the guys to take me home right now.

[11:15 PM] - there’s nothing you could say that’ll ‘explain’ what the fuck you did. you sat there in my face and kissed me and reassured me when you were getting your way all along. can you even comprehend how fucked up that is? you made me look stupid in front of your friends who already don’t like me. AND THE TOPLESS PICTURE???? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE???? if i posted a picture with my tits all in jj’s face, how would you feel? we both know he’s one phone call away if i really wanted him.

rafe’s blood was boiling after he read your message, knowing that you could leave him and have someone as desperate and lovesick as jj replace him in a heartbeat. “bro don’t sweat it, man. she’ll get over it.” topper slurred, entering figure eight again. “shut the fuck up, you don’t know the first thing about being in a relationship.” rafe shot back, clenching his fists when the message he tried to send turned green. topper didn’t respond, the rest of the ride home being dead silent.

rafe didn’t even say bye to kelce or topper when they arrived at tanneyhill, instead he rushed inside, eyes immediately falling to you resting on the couch. you were wearing your pink, fluffy robe, rollers adorning your hair while you were typing something on your ipad. “babe-” rafe shut the door, falling to his knees before you. “don’t get near me. you probably smell disgusting.” rafe’s jaw ticked, his patience already running low. “i’m so fucking sorry, y/n. i shouldn’t have lied to you, baby. i promise i’ll never do that again.” you finally looked at him, his bangs falling in his face.

“i know,” you sighed, “you don’t have to worry about me doing anything either.” you got up, attempting to walk past him before he grabbed your leg. “what are you talking about?” you knew rafe well enough to know when he was getting angry, and the way he was looking at you right now only confirmed your suspicions. “you don’t get to do what you did and think it’s all going to be fine and dandy with an apology, rafe. i’m leaving for my parents tomorrow, and don’t ask me when i’m coming back because i don’t know. i don’t think i can live with a liar.” you shoved him away, only making him grab you again, this time throwing you down on the couch.

“you don’t think you could live with a liar?” he narrowed his eyes, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “has it ever occurred to you that i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just not freak the fuck out everytime i want to go out and have fun?” you couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “you’re one to talk!” you screamed in his face, making him stand up. you followed suit, refusing to let him make you feel powerless. “you wanna act like you’re trapped here? fine! play the victim, but don’t forget everything you do to keep me from going out too.” you were pacing back and forth now, running your fingers through your hair.

“you literally slashed my friend’s tires to keep me from going to her birthday party, and all for what? because you found out other guys were going to be there?” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “i paid for the damages, y/n…” he groaned. “so?! it’s the principal! you do the most when it comes to me wanting to go somewhere, but me telling you not to go to a literal strip club is where you draw the line?? fuck you!” you started making your way upstairs, rafe right on your tail as you did so.

“fuck me?! i’m the one who takes care of you! there’s nothing in this world that you want and don’t have! i take you on regular vacations, i take you out damn near everyday, i keep you in all the newest shit, i pay for you and all your friend’s beauty appointments so that y’all could have a girl’s day twice a month, you just have no fucking clue!” he shouted, making you stop in your tracks. you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, breaking his heart in two.

“and what about everything i do for you?” you let out a shaky breath. “i’m what makes this house a home. i wear the clothes you want me to wear, i eat the food you want me to eat, i talk the way you want me to talk. i’m here when all else fails. i’m the one who holds you and comforts you when things get hard for you. i’m the one who makes sure you never feel alone, ‘makes sure you don’t go through anything alone. i do everything you say. on the days you work long and hard, i’m right here waiting for you with my legs open. on the days that you’re particularly tired, i’ll be on my knees, i’ll ride you and do all the work, and i’ll do everything happily because i love you.” rafe was crying with you by the time you finished speaking, both of you standing in the hallway.

“i get up at the ass crack of dawn and doll myself up everyday because i want to look good for you, i want to please you with everything i do. when we go to the country club, i speak of you in the highest regards, and i do it because i want everyone to know that i respect you. i do all of this, and i do it all without the commitment of having a fucking ring on my finger. if that doesn’t speak volumes for you, then i don’t know what does.” you walked inside your shared bedroom, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. he dropped to his knees once again, hugging your waist like you’d disappear if he let go. “we need each other. i need you.” he cried. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him up off the floor.

“i love you, y/n. please, you can’t leave.” you cupped his face. “i haven’t seen my parents in almost six months, rafe. i have to..” he nodded slowly, taking your hand in his. “then we’ll go together. ‘tell them we have a special announcement.” you watched him with a confused expression as he went to grab a small box out the bottom drawer of the bedside table. “rafe!” you gasped, hands flying up to cover your mouth. “i’ve had this for a while now, i don’t know what i was waiting for, but i want to do this now.” he opened the box, the biggest diamond you’ve ever seen lighting up your eyes.

“i know we have to work on some things, but there’s no one else i’d rather do this with.” you gazed into his eyes, a small smile gracing your lips. “okay, let’s do it.”

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

An Angel - Part 2

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Female Medic

Warnings: Injury, shouting, emotional tension, fear, protective behavior, slow-burn romance, soft moments.

Author’s Note: The boys love hard, and that love sometimes comes out as frustration when fear grips them. But love always wins in the end. I’m not crying you are-

Masterlist | Part 1

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

She didn’t belong here.

That’s what the whispers said. The wary glances. The tension whenever she passed by soldiers who only saw her as the enemy turned ally.

And maybe, once, she would have believed them.

But now?

Now she wasn’t so sure.

Not when Soap slung an arm around her shoulders, his presence a shield against the murmurs. “Ignore them, lass. They don’t know a damn thing about you.”

Not when Gaz always sat beside her in the mess hall, his knee brushing hers in silent reassurance.

Not when Price made sure her gear was just as well-maintained as theirs, his gruff voice always reminding her, “You’re part of this team. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.”

Not when Ghost—silent, brooding Ghost— always seemed to be there, lingering in doorways, walking a step behind her, his watchful gaze never straying too far.

She wasn’t alone.

She was theirs.

And they were hers.

They were in this together.

---

It started small.

Soap always lingered. An arm resting on her waist a second too long, fingers brushing against her own when passing a cup of tea, a cocky grin whenever she called him out on it. “What? You like it, don’t lie.”

Gaz had a way of seeking her out when the world got too loud.“Come on,” he’d say, leading her to the quiet of the rooftop, sitting beside her with their shoulders pressed together, the stars above them. “You need a break too, yeah angel?”

Price watched over her.Not just as a soldier under his command, but as something more.A steady hand on her lower back when they walked through camp, a firm squeeze on her shoulder when doubt crept in. “We take care of our own.”

And Ghost—God, Ghost—Ghost never let her go unnoticed.

He wasn’t loud like the others. His touches weren’t as obvious. But his presence was constant. A gloved hand at the small of her back when crowds pressed too close. A steadying grip on her wrist when exhaustion threatened to take her down. A quiet, gruff “Rest. You’re no good to anyone if you don’t luv.”

He never let her forget—he saw her.

And she never wanted to forget that either.

——

She wasn’t supposed to be in the field.

But when the mission turned sideways, when Soap was bleeding and Ghost was roaring for cover, she ran.

She slid beside Soap, hands pressing hard against the wound in his shoulder.

His face twisted, breath hitching. “Y’always comin’ to my rescue, huh, lass?”

She forced a smirk, but her hands shook.“Someone’s gotta keep you idiots alive.”

Gunfire roared. Gaz’s voice cracked in her earpiece. “We need an exit—now.”

She didn’t let go of Soap.

Not when Ghost and Price cleared the way.

Not when Gaz hauled her to her feet.

Not when the chopper finally lifted them out of hell.

She didn’t let go.

And neither did they.

---

The moment they were back on base, it started.

“What the hell were you bloody thinking?!”

She barely had time to catch her breath before Ghost’s voice cut through the air like a blade. His mask was off, his expression carved from fury and something deeper—something closer to fear.

Price was pacing, jaw clenched. “You were supposed to stay back. That was the plan.”

Her stomach twisted. “I wasn’t going to let Soap die.”

Gaz hovered near Soap’s cot, silent, eyes flicking between them. Soap, still wrapped in fresh bandages, shifted uncomfortably but didn’t speak.

Ghost took a step closer, towering over her. “You’re not a soldier.”

She squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “You’re right, I’m not but that doesn’t mean I don’t fight for the people I care about.”

Ghost’s eyes burned. “You could have been killed.”

“So could all of you!” she snapped. “But I don’t see you yelling at each other for risking your lives.”

“That’s different.” Price’s voice was rough, strained.

“How?”

Silence.

She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. “I saved him. That’s all that matters.”

Ghost’s fists curled at his sides, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Her pulse pounded. “Get what?”

Price exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not just about the mission.” His voice lowered, rough with something too raw to name. “It’s about you.”

Her breath caught.

Ghost turned away, running a hand through his hair. Price shook his head, muttering under his breath before following him out.

The door slammed.

Silence settled like a heavy weight in the room.

She swallowed hard, turning to Soap and Gaz, who had stayed quiet through the whole thing.

Soap sighed, giving her a half-hearted grin. “They’re just scared, lass.”

Gaz nodded, voice softer. “They don’t know how to handle almost losing you.”

Her chest ached.

It had never been about doubt. It had been about fear.

---

Later that night, a knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened it—

And found them.

Price. Ghost.

Both looking… worn.

Price sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were out of line.”

Ghost’s voice was quieter than before. “We shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

She crossed her arms, still feeling the sting of their words. “You think I should’ve let Soap bleed out?”

Ghost flinched. Price shook his head. “No. Never.” He met her gaze, voice softer. “But you’re not just some medic to us.”

Ghost swallowed. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Her breath hitched.

Ghost? Scared?

His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable, but there was something fragile in them.

Price exhaled. “You mean more to this team than just your skills, love.”

Ghost nodded. “More than you realize.”

Her chest ached.

She reached for Ghost’s gloved hand. Squeezed.

He squeezed back.

Price exhaled, relief softening his features. “We’re sorry.”

And for the first time since the mission, she relaxed.

She wasn’t just their medic.

She was theirs.

And they?

They were hers.

——

Sleep didn’t come easy.

Not after the mission. Not after **everything.**

So when a knock came at her door, she wasn’t surprised.

She opened it—

And found all of them.

Soap, already grinning. “Scoot over, bonnie. Need your touch, aye?”

Gaz, lips quirked. “You know you’re stuck with us, yeah?”

Price, arms crossed, eyes softer than usual. “Get comfortable, make some space.”

And Ghost—Ghost, who didn’t say a word, but stepped inside and sat on the bed’s edge. His gloved hand found hers. Squeezed.

She knew that in the moment, with the boys around her. Things were changing. Things were growing between them and it would never stop. Regardless of the fights, the arguments, the missions, the looks. They knew that the 5 of them belonged with each other.

Nothing would change or separate them.

They belonged to each other and with each other. Not just as a team but as something more.

Something worth fighting for, something worth saving.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

Taglist: @2bdamnedmadnesscombat

[mariasont]

hiii! I read your last spencer one shot AND I LOVED IT! IT WAS SO SWEET AND YOU'RE SO TALENTED!! Would you write something about post prison reid and shy reader? I was thinking of her as the media liaison (in my mind she is old-fashioned in music and clothes I'd wear skirts everyday, her emotional intelligence makes her good at her job, despite her shyness). Maybe she's clumsy, especially when she gets nervous and more especially (I don't even know if that's grammatically correct) when she's around Spencer.

Thank you so much for reading this, you're doing an EXCELLENT job, your works are a masterpiece!! 💕💖💝💓💓💖💞💕💖💓

Make a Wish - S.R

a/n: eekkkkkk post-prison spencer reid has me in a CHOKEHOLD! thank you so much for requesting, i'm so sorry for the delay! i hope i did your request justice!! I LOVE LOVE YOU!

masterlist

pairings: post prison!spencer reid x shy!reader

wc: 0.9k

You had been meaning to give the reports fastened in your hands to Spencer for give-or-take two hours now. Each time you gathered the courage to approach him, just one glance, one simple stupid glance from those piercing eyes set your nerves on fire and sent your brain in overdrive.

As the new media liaison from the narcotics unit, you were warned about the BAU's intimidating figures, particularly Rossi and Emily. However, no warning came regarding Spencer Reid. They mentioned his tendencies for long-winded explanations and awkward social interactions but not the aura of intensity he exuded. Whenever he entered a room, you instinctively started looking for an exit, not because of his criminal record, but because you found yourself hopelessly mesmerized by him.

He was perfect in every sense of the word—brilliant, compassionate, selfless, and an exceptional agent. At least, this is what you had observed from afar. A part of you was scared that any real interaction with him would shatter the idyllic image you had crafted in your head, and you weren't confident you were prepared for such disillusionment. However, you needed to give him these damn papers, dreading the alternative, which was getting summoned to Emily's office.

"Hi."

You did it, okay, first step complete. You opened your mouth, determined to get out the next part you had practiced a little over twenty times in your head, but the words seemed to dissipate into a misty fog in your brain.

"Um, these are for you," you said, rocking back onto the balls of your mary janes, placing the report on his desk. "It's the Henderson lie detector test transcript?"

"Is it?"

You realized you had said it like a question.

You paused, the part of your brain stuttering for a second, trying to flip over the thousands of scenarios you had rehearsed in your head for this interaction. None of them had included those words.

Just a little off script and you felt your fight or flight kick in—nails digging into your palms as you avoided eye contact.

"Yes." A little more confident this time, not by much, and it quickly deflated as you second guessed yourself, stepping closer to peer over his shoulder at the document. "At least I think."

"I'm just messing with you, it is." He said, eyes flickering down to the document, then to you. "You okay?"

"M-Me? Okay? Yeah, of course." The words were stumbling out of your mouth at a rate that was hard to keep up with. "Do I not look okay?"

"No, of course you look okay," he responded, brows knitting together as his gaze traveled down your body, no doubt dissecting your every thought. "You just seem... a bit nervous."

You opened your mouth, aiming to articulate a coherent thought, but it fell short and was quickly interrupted by Spencer.

He suddenly leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Wait, hold still; you have an eyelash."

He was so close, you swore you feel his breath on your cheeks, instantly warming them. Your body was in overdrive, trying to recalibrate as his finger grazed the area under your right eye. You closed your eyes, almost unwillingly, relishing in the unexpected touch.

This was weird. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, and you balled your hand into a fist, attempting to mask the way you were shaking.

The sound of your name snapped you out of your daze. Your eyes followed suit, meeting Spencer's prying eyes. His finger was raised, your eyelash perched on the tip. Your face could have been a furnace, flames of heat spreading from your neck to your nose.

"Do you want to make a wish?"

He looked at you expectantly, eyes darting from your face to his raised pointer finger.

"Okay."

You closed your eyes, forming the wish in your mind before blowing on the lash. You watched it float to the ground, settling gently on the toe of Spencer's shoe. 

"What did you wish for?"

"I feel like I'm not supposed to tell you that," you say, pulling at the ends of your hair.

He was undeniably good-looking. It wasn't like you were just realizing it; you had eyes and you were only human. But up close, you could see every detail—the dark circles under his eyes, the rough stubble under his jaw.

"I think you're right."

The sudden intimacy of the moment made your heart skip a beat. You stepped back, nodding at his words and also nothing in particular.

"Anyway, yeah, those are the papers—," you began, turning to walk away. As you did, you bumped your hip into the desk beside you, hissing under your breath in response.

"Christ, are you okay?" His hand was on your hip as the words came out of his mouth.

The touch only seemed to intensify your embarrassment. You stepped out of his grip, dropping your phone as you did which you quickly bent down to pick up.

"Sorry, yeah, I'm fine, just forgot I have a meeting with Emily, so I'm just gonna—," you pointed towards her office, quickly making your escape from Spencer as you tried to catch your breath.

Once you were a distance you deemed safe enough, you allowed yourself a quick glance back at him. He was smirking, and you felt that all familiar heat rising into your chest once again.

You really hoped that wish would kick in soon.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @looking1016 @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @yaykeira @spencerssatchel @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @perpetuallydone @hiireadstuff @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @deadofnight0 @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3

join my taglist here!

[mixingandmelting]

Hello! I was wondering if you'd quite something based on the bat boys (or just Jason) reaction to realizing they liked having a normal life?

Like they go to visit the readers' family for Xmas, but their family left without letting them know, so they had the whole house to themselves, so they got to play house. It was in a whole other state, so no needing to be vigilantes. Just them with their s/o getting ready for Christmas, being shown around and just living a normal life for a few weeks.

A/N: Hope you don't mind me not writing about Duke and Damian since they're both minors so legally speaking they can't really travel out-of-state alone. Plus to be real, I highly doubt Batman would want to leave Damian unsupervised considering what happens when he's alone 😔

Dick:

His whole life he was anything but normal, being raised in a circus and now, fighting crimes 24/7. Excitement, action, danger, and adventures are what defines him and how he had always dreamt of how his life would go on. But here he is, tasting “normal” for the first time in his life by spending the holiday with you in the house you were raised in. Snowball fights and building snowmen delays the process of clearing the snow. Not to forget the snow angels that are made once he playfully tackles you down into the snow after you manage to get more on him than yourself. Putting up the lights and decoration both inside and outside of the house was more fun than the times he helped out at the Wayne manor, while finding out shopping for anything during the holiday season is a battle of its own. Adding that to the daily routine that’s usually gone through on his days off every day,  it’s… quiet and peaceful. He doesn’t wake up to sirens or violence. He’s not worried about another mission, instead figuring out how he’ll get your present under the tree without getting caught. You greeting him at the door, placing a kiss on his cheeks that are slightly bitten from frost when it’s decided he’s moving the snow on his own makes him so fuzzy, he starts calling you honey over babe. The most mind boggling about this? He doesn't mind it. It’s hard to accept that he actually likes “normal”. He’s confused over liking a concept that’s completely foreign to him and with his personality, he won’t last long with living with “normal” forever. The happy couple/marriage vibe though? He’s on board and digs it, one-hundred percent. Especially in a house filled with childhood memories, it’s giving him ideas and changing what he perhaps would want in the future in ways he wouldn’t think of back then.

Jason:

Considering his childhood and how he went through the whole reincarnation cycle of dying and then reviving, it’s a desire he had as a kid but gave up right away. He didn’t even fathom that a day would come where he would experience what it would be like to be normal. Walking around and staying in the typical home most average people live in made him tense the first three days, even more so knowing this was where you lived since a child. Moving snow with you becomes his favorite pastime, where you’d distract from getting the job done and have him chase after you from the snowball that hits his back. Or bringing out steaming hot chocolate so his nose and hands would stop feeling as if they’re ready to fall off from the cold after cleaning up and helping you build a snow fort of all things. His hands are frequently on your waist from holding you up to string the lights and hang the decorations after you frown from his “aesthetic” way of placing them, pushing him to move aside so you could show how a real pro does it. It’s also his first time struggling to find time to get a present behind your back from being with you all the time. Eating meals together, taking walks together around the neighborhood and city, acting as bodyguard during grocery and Christmas shopping, spending time together as a couple in general in a house that’s warm, cozy, and peaceful as Jason Todd is a first. Not as Robin once dead and revived or Red Hood, the violent outlaw.  It’s a wish once buried in his heart on top of another where he’s spending time with you that comes true before the holiday. He’s emotional from being so happy, he doesn’t think of anything else other than wanting to live like this for the rest of his life.

Tim:

Contrary to the stereotypes depicted by the media, rich kids don’t spend time with their family; it's usually spent with their nanny as their parents leave them for long periods of time in a house too large for two people. Sure over the years he has healed with his friends and a new family. But it feels like a dream come true with you. He’s laughing and enjoying the soft fluffiness of white that gets all over him, freezing his nose and hands when he tries to clear the snow. He gets into it with you over how the lights and decorations should be placed inside and outside the house when you mentioned you want to outdo your neighbors, a set of blueprints and sketches drawn while debating that rainbow lights were better than the flickering, white ones. To much of his chagrin, he’s fumbling with all the things you toss at him when he helps you shop, him being in charge of the shopping cart as he stays in-line as you grab and bring back what’s needed in the store. Not that he’s complaining, his face suddenly tinted in red when you come back and slip your hand between his hand and the handle during the wait for the next opened cashier. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t struggle with getting you a Christmas present and placing it under the tree. He had been keeping tabs since the day after Valentine’s Day on the things you’ve been looking at while relying on your habits he memorized to time things perfectly. Similar to Jason, he, too, wanted to live normally like any other person. Him getting to do that by prepping for the holiday with you heals the child in him, making him content and wishing the time the two of you currently have lasts forever.

[pucksandpower]

DSQ

George Russell x Wolff!Reader

Summary: George was on top of the world … until he wasn’t

Note: I actually had a whole other fic written in honor of George’s win, but yeah, that happened

George slumps in his chair, staring blankly at the wall of his driver’s room. The sting of disappointment and anger courses through him, his victory at the Belgian Grand Prix cruelly snatched away by a technicality. He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

The door creaks open, and you step in quietly, holding a steaming cup of earl grey tea. George’s nostrils flare at the familiar scent, a small comfort in this storm of emotions.

“Hey,” you say softly, approaching him. “I brought you your favorite.”

George looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “Thanks,” he mumbles, reaching for the cup with trembling hands.

You perch on the arm of his chair, your hand finding its way to his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He takes a sip of the tea, closing his eyes briefly. When he opens them, there’s a mix of gratitude and anguish in his gaze. “I just ... I can’t believe this happened. All that work, all that effort, and it’s gone because of 1.5 bloody kilograms.”

You nod, your thumb tracing soothing circles on his shoulder. “I know, love. It’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” George scoffs, his voice rising. “It’s a bloody joke, that’s what it is! I drove the race of my life out there. I fought for P1, managed those tires like a pro, and now ... now it’s all for nothing.”

“It’s not for nothing,” you counter gently. “You still proved yourself out there. Everyone saw what you can do.”

George shakes his head vehemently. “But it doesn’t count, does it? Not officially. I went up on that podium, I held that trophy, I sprayed champagne, and now ...” His voice cracks. “Now I have to give it all back.”

You slide off the arm of the chair and kneel in front of him, taking his free hand in both of yours. “George, look at me.”

He meets your gaze reluctantly, tears threatening to spill over.

“You are an incredible driver,” you say firmly. “One issue that you had no control over doesn’t change that. This wasn’t your fault.”

George’s jaw clenches. “But it was the team’s fault. They should have caught this. They should have fixed it before the race even started.”

You nod, understanding his frustration. “You’re right. They made a mistake, and it cost you. But you can’t change what happened now. All you can do is move forward.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Move forward? To what? More disappointment? More near misses?”

“To your next victory,” you insist. “Because there will be a next one, schatz. This isn’t the end of your story.”

George’s shoulders sag, the fight seeming to drain out of him. “I just ... I wanted this so badly. For the team, for myself, for ...” He looks at you, his expression softening. “For us.”

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “I know, liebling. And I’m so proud of you, regardless of what the official results say.”

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. “Your father must be furious.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Vati’s always furious about something. But he knows this wasn’t your fault. He’s far more angry at the team than at you.”

George’s eyes snap open. “Really?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. ��Really. In fact, he was quite impressed with your driving today. Said it was some of the best he’s seen from you.”

A flicker of pride crosses George’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by doubt. “But what if ... what if this is as close as I get? What if I never actually win another race this season?”

“Hey,” you say firmly, making him look at you. “That’s not the George Russell I know talking. The George I know doesn’t give up. He fights. He perseveres. He comes back stronger.”

George swallows hard, his eyes searching yours. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you,” you say simply. “I’ve seen your determination and your passion. This setback? It’s just fuel for your fire.”

He takes a shaky breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. You’re always right.”

You grin, lightening the mood. “Well, Vati always says being right runs in the family.”

That draws a genuine laugh from George, the first since news of the disqualification broke. “God, I love you,” he says, his voice filled with warmth.

“I love you too,” you reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. As you pull back, you notice some of the tension has left his shoulders.

“So,” you say, a mischievous glint in your eye. “What can I do to help you feel better?”

George raises an eyebrow, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. “Well, your presence alone is doing wonders, but I’m open to suggestions.”

You stand up slowly, your hands moving to the zipper of your dress. “How about we start with getting rid of this?”

George’s eyes widen. “Here?”

You shrug, a coy smile playing on your lips. “Why not? I think you’ve earned a little rule-breaking today, don’t you?”

He hesitates for a moment, glancing towards the door. “What if someone walks in?”

“Then they’ll get quite a show,” you tease, your fingers toying with the zipper. “Unless you’d rather I stop?”

George’s gaze darkens, his earlier frustrations momentarily forgotten. He reaches out, pulling you onto his lap. “Don’t you dare,” he growls playfully, his hands finding your waist.

As you lean in to kiss him, you can feel some of the day’s tension melting away. You know there will be more challenges ahead, more disappointments to face. But right now, in this moment, you’re determined to remind George of all the good things he has in his life — starting with you.

The kiss deepens, and for a while, the world outside this room ceases to exist. There’s only you and George, finding comfort and strength in each other’s arms, ready to face whatever comes next … together.

[hyperballart]

patrick teaching you and art to share <3

fighting with art over patrick’s cock is as pathetic as it sounds. the man himself towers above you both holding his erection while the two of you rock paper scissors over who will get to suck him first. it is pathetic, of course, but patrick finds it endearing. how you and art are reduced to a pair of bickering petulant children on their knees for him. it makes him feel needed and wanted in ways that fill the voids of insecurity and self-doubt he carries. he loves you both so much, and in a moment he comes up with a solution that will fulfill you three.

he orders you both to stick your tongues out, and as you do he lets go of the grip he has on his cock to push your heads closer. “thereeee you go, share with each other,” and you and art don’t need to be told twice. you’re each licking and kissing the lenght of him from your respective sides, but when you suddenly stick your tongue out on the underside and feel art’s, your brain turns to mush. you can tell patrick feels this as well because he starts pushing your heads harder to meet in the middle, he’s sliding them up and down while letting out deep groans and drawn out whines.

“that’s it, kiss that fucking dick,” art lets out a high-pitched moan at that that you can feel through the connection of your mouths over the boy above, “god—fuck me—that’s right. move your tongues a little more, shit, yeah like that.” he then starts taking you guys lower, until you’re met with his balls. he can’t really get words out at this point so with a grunted suck them, you get to work. each one of you sucks at one of them, you’re hallowing your cheeks and feeling the fuzziness of it and by the sounds patrick is letting out you know art is doing the same. he brings you back up by the hair and continues to thrust between your mouths.

“come on artie, give her a kiss. you guys have to apologize for being so selfish—holy fuck— yeah just like that,” you and art are trying to get as close to each other’s mouths as you can with patrick’s tip in the way. his slit is drooling precum that adds to all the wetness and you feel it spilling out and dripping on your faces. you open your eyes and see that art’s are crossed, his pupils eclipsing the blue of his eyes and it makes you hum. the sound again travels and patrick twitches hard.

that’s when he loses composure, seeing how fucked out and slutty you and art are slobbering on his tip, passing it back and forth and taking small suckles that are driving him insane, he has to go deeper. he pulls you both off. every ten seconds he takes turns grabbing one of your faces to fuck your throats, you have an easier time taking him without gagging while art has tears spilling down his face. patrick thinks it’s the hottest thing either way, having two people at his service like this.

when he’s ready to cum, he tells to both to kneel next to each other and stick your tongues out—make sure they’re touching—and with two pairs of eyes pleading at him like that, he lets go. it’s a heavy load, you make sure to catch everything.

“oh my god, don’t waste a single fucking drop, catch it—mmmmm fucking sluts.” without having to be told, you and art lick into each other’s mouths to pass around all the cum you’ve just received. you grip his curls and moan into his mouth while he’s whimpering and squeezing your waist. patrick watches it while catching his breath with a grin. he loves making you bond like this.

[allllium]

I really love your fics!!! They’re seriously just 10/10. Could you maybe do something with Jason Todd getting a crush on the new vigilante in town? Or him meeting his childhood best friend after being resurrected (possibly him saving them as Red Hood) and just SIMPING over how much they’ve changed since last time he saw them. Like, his mind just going “minemineminemine” and “Yes, I am now a married man”

Love your work!!! ❤️❤️

Miss You

~ Fluff, WC: 1,119

~ Jason meets you again

Jason had a best friend, before he died that is. Ever since he came back he's felt alone, no one being able to fill the hole left when he lost you. Lost you isn't the right word. He can go to you at any time, replace the friendship he craves to have again, but he won't. Call it pride, call it self-doubt, call it whatever you want but he'll never do anything to fix it. Not unless he has too.

You're walking along a strip of dark buildings. Not a smart choice but definitely the fastest to take after a long night shift. The only thing you want to do is fall into your bed and sleep a whole day away. Living in Gotham means you are no longer surprised or scared by the constant yelling and booming noises. Most of them are made by teenagers doing dumb things with their friends or random people deciding to fight in the streets. They don't last too long considering the millions of vigilanties that are always running around.

But tonight as you walk by multiple allies, on a dark street, near where you know multiple self declared "gangs" hang out, everything is silent. Somewhere else, anywhere else, that'd be a good thing. But right now it gives you the chills. Every step you take feels like it's being watched, no, like it's being analyzed. Like something or someone is trying to memorize every move you make. A gaze you somewhat recognize.

Jason doesn't mean to be a creep. He really doesn't. But he can't look away. After he died he never thought he'd see you again. Everyone told him you stopped showing up to dinners and didn't answer any of their calls. It was hard for him to think of never seeing you again, he didn't know a time in his life when he didn't know you. Now he finds himself sitting on a windowsill on the opposite side of the street, unable to look away from you. You've changed a lot since he last saw you, but somehow you still look exactly the same. Jason has never had a crush on you before. Of course he always wondered what being with you would be like, and he's thought a lot about how amazing it would be to kiss you, not to mention the hundreds of times you've had him blushing like a crazy person. But he's never had a crush. That'd be insane.

You continue walking around as if nothings bothering you. The last thing you want to worry about is someone watching you. It's probably nothing. On the other side of the street you can hear thumping every couple of feet. It doesn't take a genius to know the sound is coming from someone jumping from roof to roof. You look over just in time to see someone land on their feet. It's obviously one of the vigilanties, guessing by their size and stature.

Jason feels his heart almost stop when you look directly at him. He knows you don't know it's him, how could you after all this time and in the dark, but it makes him panic just a little bit. You'd think after everything he's had to deal with he wouldn't freak over such a small thing. It's not until he sees you raise your eyebrows expectantly that he starts making his way off the roof and towards you in the street. He can't believe how much you've changed, how amazing you look.

You watch intently as he comes closer. It only takes a moment before he's standing face to face with you.

"You better have a damn good reason for following me."

He doesn't answer.

"Hello? If you're going be a creep at least explain why."

All you can here is heavy breathing through his mask.

"Okay this is just weird." You begin to walk away but he grabs your arm to stop you. "Did you really just grab me?"

"I'm sorry." You don't recognize his voice but something is pulling at you. You let out an angry breath.

"Are you gonna explain yourself yet?"

"I wasn't trying to be a creep I promise." He starts to defend himself but trails off. "You walked by some bad people earlier and I wanted to make sure you got home safe."

"Mhm. What else?" You cross your arms over your chest, not believing he gave the whole explanation.

He pauses again. For a second you believe he won't answer. "You look good."

"I thought you weren't trying to be a creep, what the fuck?" You take a big step away from the man standing to your front.

"No no no no that's not what I meant." He tries to come closer to you but you take another step back.

"I don't care what you meant, that's weird man."

"Where do you live?"

"Okay I'm leaving now."

"No wait, again not how I meant for that to sound. I just mean I can give you a better explanation when we're not standing in the middle of the street." He rambles.

"Fine, but I expect no more excuses."

You reluctantly show him to way to your house. Now that you've been closer to him you recognize him as Red Hood, a newer vigilantie. He's a good guy, he wouldn't hurt you, right?"

"Here we are." You announce as you step up to unlock your door. Red Hood follows you a little too close.

"It's nice." He says quietly, almost as if he's unsure of his voice.

"Thanks. Now explain." The second the door is shut you demand to know more.

"I'm not really sure how to say this."

"Well you don't really have a choice do you?"

"No I guess not. I've never been able to say no to you." He makes a sound that almost seems like a laugh.

"Never? Do we know each other?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna need more than a single word."

Instead of saying anything he takes off his mask Suddenly every makes sense. Or as much as it can when you're dead best friend is standing in front of you.

"Jason." You smile.

"Hi. This isn't how I wanted to do this."

"No? How did you?" You take a step closer to him.

"Well to be honest I wasn't. I really didn't expect you to know I was there."

"You aren't very quiet." You turn away and take a seat on your couch.

"I should probably work on that." He sits next to you. You look amazing."

"Thank you Jay."

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

"I will later. Right now I just want to sit, I've missed you."

"I miss you too."

[0o-junebug-o0]

Put to Use

summary: Spencer has been bothering you all day while you try to get work done, you decide to put his mouth to better use.

genre: fluff and smut

cw: 18+ mdni! sub!spencer, softdom!reader, dirty talking, praise, use of good boy, begging, oral sex (r receiving (kinda)), strap-ons, strap-on sucking, hair pulling, gn!reader (reader has a vagina but nothing else is specified (the only word used to describe reader's genitalia is clit)), masturbation, no use of y/n, whiny/bratty spencer, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), aftercare

wordcount: 2.1k

Spencer has been whining all day. He’s been pacing around the apartment, practically begging you to put aside your work and complaining about how bored and lonely he is. Both of which you know for a fact is not true. If Spencer was bored he would grab one of the many books littering your shared apartment and read, and if he was actually lonely he would have a proper conversation about it rather than whining. He’s not bored or lonely, he’s just horny.

If you weren’t so busy you’d help him out, but you have a deadline coming up and you’ve been stuck on this part of your code for over two hours and it’s starting to piss you off.

Spencer sighs loudly as he passes by your desk. You briefly close your eyes and take a deep breath to tune him out and continue working. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer watching you and when you don’t push everything aside to attend to him he whines your name. 

“Spencer,” you reply in a matching whine. He pouts.

“I’m bored.”

“Then read,” you say, still not taking your eyes off of your computer. 

“But I don’t want to read,” he whines. 

“Since when do you not want to read?”

“I just don’t,” he grumbles.

He flops onto the couch with a huff, his legs draped over the side. If you weren’t so worried about spurring him on, you’d laugh. 

A few minutes pass before he calls your name again.

You roll your eyes, starting to get a bit annoyed. “What, Spencer?”

“I’m still bored.”

Jesus Christ. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve seen him desperate for you before but he’s never been such a brat about it. “Spencer, you know I have to work.”

“I know, but I’m lonely,” he whines.

“I’m right here.”

“That’s too far,” he groans.

“I’m really busy, Spencer. You’re just going to have to be patient.”

He mumbles something to himself but goes quiet and occupies himself by swinging his legs. It would be adorable if he wasn’t being such a pain in the ass.

You rub your eyes and lean closer to your computer as if that will tell you how to fix the error that just appeared in your code. You change the dimensions of an array and try running it again, when the code still fails, frustration builds in your chest and you have to fight the urge to slam your computer shut.

You mentally run through all of your most common mistakes and their solutions but not one of them gets rid of the error. You’re about to plot the data to see if there’s an issue in the reading of the file when Spencer calls your name again.

You close your laptop with a snap and Spencer’s head pokes over the back of the couch. You stand, pushing your chair away from your desk hard enough that it almost topples over. 

You glare at him. “Up,” you snap.

Spencer immediately scrambles off the couch and onto his feet, staring at you with wide, desperate eyes. 

“Go to the bedroom. I want you naked and kneeling on the floor by the time I arrive. And no touching yourself.” Spencer’s eyes get impossibly wider and he seems almost frozen with surprise. “Now, Spencer.”

He nods frantically and races down the hallway and into the bedroom. You love how desperate he is to obey you. Watching him practically trip over himself to do as you say makes arousal pool in your gut. You walk around to the front of the couch and sit where Spencer had been lying mere moments ago. You stare at your watch and press your hands between your legs to relieve some of the pressure.

Spencer has no doubt done what you said by now but you want to make him wait. He needs to learn some patience. Eventually, your own arousal becomes too much to bear and you follow him into the bedroom.

Ever the good listener, Spencer is kneeling on the floor completely naked. His hands are resting just above his knees and he’s squeezing his legs hard enough that the skin around his hands is white. His cock is hard and resting on his thighs and you can tell by how much it’s leaking that he hasn’t touched himself. The sight of him drives you crazy. 

He gasps your name when he sees you, but you walk toward the dresser at the other end of the room without acknowledging him. He whines pathetically and as much as you want to kiss him, you don’t turn around. You open the top drawer and move aside your underwear and socks to grab the strap-on and harness you’d purchased recently. You turn around, closing the drawer with your elbow, and Spencer’s eyes widen when he sees what you’re holding.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, his voice breaking slightly with desperation.

You toss the items onto the bed and twirl your finger. Immediately, Spencer shuffles around until he’s facing you, not leaving his knees once. 

You saunter forward, stopping only inches away from him. He lifts his hands and reaches out to touch you, his mouth hanging open and his chest rising and falling rapidly with each panted breath, but he lowers his hands when you give him a pointed look. The pure adoration and need in his eyes has you soaking through your underwear and it takes a tremendous amount of self-control not to kiss him. 

You grab the hem of your shirt and slowly pull it over your head. You can feel Spencer’s unwavering eye contact the entire time. You toss the shirt to the side and unbuckle your belt before pushing your pants and underwear down your legs at a snail's pace, never once taking your eyes off of Spencer’s face.

You step out of your pants and underwear and kick them aside as you reach around behind you to grab the dildo and harness off the bed. Spencer watches your hands intently as you slide the dildo through the hole in the front of the harness. “Please,” he gasps. “Oh my God, please, I need it! Please!”

You shoot him a glare and his mouth snaps shut.

“You want to use your mouth so bad?” you ask with a snarl, stepping into the harness and pulling it up to your hips. “Talking and talking nonstop? Distracting me even though you know I have to work? I’ll put your mouth to use.” You tighten the straps until the harness fits snugly around your hips and waist. “Maybe this will shut you up.”

You grab Spencer’s hair and pull him forward until his face is right in front of your strap. He falls slightly and scrambles until he’s sitting between your legs, looking up at you with an open mouth and wide eyes.

“Suck,” you command. The second the word leaves your mouth, Spencer wraps his lips around your strap with a pathetic moan, his eyes fluttering shut. He looks gorgeous like this and you can feel your arousal sticking to your thighs. 

Spencer bobs his head and a gasp forces its way from your throat as the base of the dildo presses against your clit. Spurred on by the sound of your pleasure, Spencer presses his face closer to you and wraps one of his hands around the base of the strap, stroking it in time to the movement of his head.

Each stroke sends pleasure shooting up your spine and you tangle your hands in his hair to steady yourself. “Such a good boy,” you groan. “Taking my cock so well.”

Spencer moans desperately and pulls his head away for a moment, not stopping the movement of his hands. He looks up at you with wet eyes. “You’re cock,” he rasps. “Love your cock. Tastes so good.” 

His voice already sounds ruined and the thought makes you moan as you push his head back down. He rewraps his lips around your cock and takes you down as far as he can. The dildo isn’t big and the tip of his nose presses lightly against your stomach. You can feel where the silicone hits the back of his throat and you moan loudly, your head falling back with pleasure. He wraps his hands around your thighs and holds you in place, slowly and gently bobbing his head. Even the slightest of movements send waves of pleasure through your body as the base of the dildo rubs against you and you have to fight the urge to buck your hips.

As if he could read your mind, Spencer pulls back off your cock and replaces his mouth with his hand, stroking rapidly. You gasp as each stroke presses the dildo against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. You look down at him and the sight is almost enough to make you cum. His entire body is flushed red and his chest heaves with each desperate breath. His cock is red and hard and he’s leaked all over his lap, the hand not stroking you is clenched into a fist at his side so he doesn’t touch himself without permission. He looks divine.

Spencer stares up at you with an expression of pure need. “F-fuck my face,” he gasps, his voice weak and scratchy. “Please.”

His words send sparks of pleasure through you and combined with the movement of his hand you can feel your orgasm starting to pool in your belly. “Holy shit,” you gasp, nodding your head frantically, unsure of how else to respond. The moment he sees you nod he replaces his hand with his mouth, groaning loudly.

Your hips buck forward and the sensation makes you cry out with pleasure. Heat starts to climb up your back and you thrust sloppily into his mouth as you chase your orgasm. “Such a good boy,” you gasp. “Taking me so well. Touch yourself, baby, touch yourself while I fuck your pretty face.”

A loud moan rips from Spencer’s chest and even though you can’t see it, you know he has his hand between his legs and is desperately fucking his fist. 

“That’s it, baby,” you pant. “I’m so close.”

Spencer whimpers around your cock and you can see his hips moving desperately beneath you as he touches himself. His whole body tenses as he cums and the sight of his orgasm brings you to yours. You cum hard with a cry of his name. Your legs shake as pleasure shoots through your body and you struggle to stay on your feet. Your hips still and you untangle your hands from Spencer’s hair as he pulls back. 

He smiles a big dopey smile up at you and you sink to your knees to pull him in for a kiss. You rub your thumb over his cheek and he sighs into your mouth as he kisses you back. You pull away and he chases after you weakly. You chuckle and press a brief kiss to the tip of his nose. “Did so good, baby. So proud of you,” you whisper.

Spencer smiles and buries his head in the crook of your neck.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright, sweetheart?”

He nods and you guide him to his feet and into the ensuite bathroom. You undo and step out of the harness and set it and the strap on the edge of the sink to clean later. You turn on the bath and wipe the cum off his legs with a wet washcloth as you sit on the edge of the tub and wait for the water to get warm. Spencer stays pressed close to your side the entire time but you don’t mind. You love how soft and cuddly he gets after sex, especially when you’ve been a little rougher with him.

You keep one arm wrapped around him, holding him against your body, and feel the temperature of the water with the other. Satisfied, you plug the drain and let the bath start to fill. 

“Alright, sweetheart, the water’s nice and warm. Why don’t you climb in?” Spencer presses his face back into your neck. You feel a pang of worry at his lack of communication. “What’s wrong baby?” you ask gently. “Are you alright? Does anything hurt?”

Spencer shakes his head and wraps his arms tighter around you. You return his hug, rubbing your hand up and down his back, feeling the ridges of his spine under your fingertips. “Do you just want to be near me?” you ask. Spencer nods and your worry dissipates. You smile and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay, baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll join you in the bath, alright?”

Spencer nods and lets you guide him into the tub. You slip in right behind him and turn off the water. You press kisses to his back and shoulders as you bathe him, whispering praises until you’re both clean.

_____

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@daryls-crossbow16

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 6

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected piv, my first time writing smut so i'm sorry if it's horrible

series masterlist │my masterlist

you’ve known three versions of logan so far. the feral, animalistic version of logan that seems to be at the core of who he is - without any memories, that’s the personality he reverted to, those were the actions he took when controlled only by his baser instincts. then there’s the version of logan you imagine he’s created over the years to deal with his pain, the one that drinks himself stupid and fights against his nature to make others more comfortable, terrified to hurt anyone, terrified that he’ll prove to everyone that he’s a monster.

this version of logan though, the one you see before you now, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to knowing the real him. a person's memories and experiences make them who they are, shape them as a person, and the same can be said for logan. but he’s no longer trying to hide what his mutation makes him, at least not as much as before. he’s not the innocent, loving man you’d brought into your home - you doubt you’ll ever get that exact version of logan back - but he expresses himself in a new way now.

he’s explained to you some of the conditions of his mutation, why he acts the way he does. it makes more sense to you now, why his face is always finding its way to your neck, pressed to the spot where your scent is the most pronounced, mixing your scent with his to mark you. it soothes him, to walk by you and recognise that even when he’s not at your side his presence clings to you.

it’s nice, watching him slowly let his guard down, opening up to you. you’re proud of him every time he mutters something about himself or his past to you, quickly and quietly as though he’s partially hoping you won't hear him.

“i love you,” he says, taking a break from kissing you to breathe the words into the shared air between you.

you smile back at him. the words are as easy as breathing. “i love you too.”

he kisses you again, loving and intimate, a hand going to your waist, gripping onto your flesh tightly as if you’ll vanish if he ever lets go. you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers tomorrow, a reminder of his touch, of the way he worships your body. you part your lips for him, gasping lightly when his grip tightens, giving him free reign to explore your mouth with his tongue.

heat grows in your stomach, wetness flooding between your legs, insistent, and you grind down on his lap, feeling him growing hard underneath you. he’s big, you’ve seen him naked enough times to know, but it feels different with you pressed against him, much more imposing.

“need you,” he groans, fingers sliding under the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, releasing it to watch it slap your skin. you gasp again and he chases the noise with his mouth, catching it on your lips.

he takes his time pulling your sleep shorts down your legs, reverently. there’s always a strange duality to intimacy with logan. he’s intense in everything he does, taking you apart multiple times a night, his gaze almost predatory as he explores your body. and yet he treats you like a queen, taking his time to make sure you feel good before he ever does anything for himself.

he spreads your legs open with his large hands, kneeling between your legs. he kisses up your thighs, so close to where you want him and you squirm.

“please, lo,” you beg, your hands in his hair.

he starts off slow, a consistent rhythm that has you begging for more, your moans growing breathier and louder until he can no longer control himself, eating you out like a man starved. his beard burns against your thighs, a delicious pain that only makes the pleasure more intense.

he adds one finger, the thick digit brushing against your walls, pressing against the spot inside you that makes you cry out. his fingers are bigger than your own, longer too, and he’s always much more effective at fingering you to an orgasm, able to give you what you need. he always knows what you need.

he adds a second finger, and that paired with the way his tongue drags against your clit, catching on the tip, has the pressure building inside you. 

your orgasm hits you like a wave, a slow crescendo and then you’re falling. you ride his face as you cum, using your grip on his hair to pull him closer to you, feeling his nose bump against your clit as you press your cunt against his mouth. you shudder as you come down from your high and logan pulls away, mouth and beard glistening with you.

he’s still nearly fully dressed, which you find absolutely unfair, so you pull his shirt off, tossing it aside, making quick work of removing the rest of his clothes until he’s gloriously naked. his cock is hard and proud, flushed and straining.

he needs you, and he tells you so, the words echoing between you, the sentiment going straight to your core.

you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him a few times, running your thumb over the tip to collect the beads of precum and rub it down his shaft. he groans at the feeling, rutting into your hand. usually this is the part where you take him into your mouth, let him fuck your throat until you’re gagging around him and spit dribbles from your lips around his thick cock.

but you want something different today, you want more. you haven’t taken this step yet, you didn’t feel ready before, wanting to wait until you were at a point where your rocky, unlabeled relationship felt solid. now, you couldn’t imagine not being ready to share this step with him, to give him every piece of you, putting your life and your love in his hands and begging him to keep it, keep you.

“lay down,” you order him, letting go of his cock to shove lightly at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him - you’re definitely not strong enough for that - but he goes willingly, and you smile at how quickly he complies.

you’re not usually the one giving orders in the bedroom, but he’s always weak to your whims, regardless of how small or meaningless they might seem. he wants to make you happy, something he’s told you multiple times when you teased him about how willing he was to do anything you asked of him. you could easily make him submit to you in bed if you batted your eyelashes at him and asked nicely.

he watches you with dark, lustful eyes as you crawl over him, straddling his lap, grinding your leaking pussy against his hard cock. you both moan at the feeling of your wetness sliding against his length, at how ready you both are for this.

“i want you inside me,” you say.

“are you sure?” logan asks, breathless. he wants it, you can see how hard he’s fighting not to rut up into you, but he’s holding back. it makes you feel warm all over, the way he cares so deeply about you, never pushing your boundaries, never wanting to push for more than what you’ll allow. it makes you want him even more.

“i’m sure,” you affirm, “don’t think i’ve ever felt more ready for anything, actually.”

you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down, feeling the stretch with every inch of him. you're thankful he stretched you out with his fingers, but you have to stop to breathe regardless when he’s halfway inside, the sound of your heavy breathing mixing with his own ragged pants as he fights to let you take the time you need.

finally you sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips when he’s fully sheathed inside you. you roll your hips to adjust to the feeling and logan growls, low in his throat. 

you lift yourself up halfway before sinking back down, a new rush of heat rolling over you when you hear the way logan groans. he holds onto your waist as you move, helping lift you so you don’t get too tired, but eventually you start to falter, unable to keep up the steady rhythm. you pout as your movements become slower, annoyed at yourself, but logan takes over the moment you can’t, rolling you over onto your back so he’s hovering above you.

you wince at the feeling of him slipping out of you, but as soon as he has you positioned on your back the way he wants you, he’s lining himself up with your hole again, fucking into you hard and fast.

“this okay?” he asks, though you doubt he needs the answer given how you’re whining and writhing underneath him.

his thrusts are relentless, a steady pace that he could probably keep up for days and days. he has wonderful stamina, something you’d learnt the first time you’d made him cum when his cock immediately hardened again in your hand, your eyes widening as you looked up at him. he’d shrugged and smirked as he explained he didn’t have much of a refractory period. “‘least not when i’m with someone as pretty as you,” he’d continued.

he’s using one hand to grope your breasts and the other sneaks down between your legs, rubbing circles over your clit. he’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and you can feel your second orgasm approaching, more intense than the first.

“fuck,” logan grunts, “y’feel so good, so tight.”

he looks wild, fucking into you like this, his eyes roaming over your body like a predator assessing his prey. you feel your stomach twist pleasantly at the thought. he keeps up his pace until you’re coming around him and even as you squeeze around him he doesn’t falter.

“logan!” you scream as he continues, overstimulation bordering on painful.

he grunts and growls, and you grip onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his arms. he moans loud when you accidentally draw blood from the intensity of the hold you have on him. you feel the blood welling against your fingertips and then the strange sensation of his skin stitching itself back together until it's smooth again under your touch.

“gonna breed you,” logan growls, and you babble incoherently in response. you’re not quite sure his words are even penetrating your mind. all you hear is the sound of his voice, the rough timbre of it. “gonna make you mine. my mate.”

“yes, yes logan, please, come inside me. need you!” his thrusts get more erratic as he gets closer to the edge, and then they falter for a moment and he’s coming. hot spurts painting your insides as he keeps fucking into you, shallow thrusts that push his cum deeper, closer to your womb.

he presses a kiss to your stomach, nuzzling his head into the soft flesh there. his breathing is as ragged as yours. you feel completely undone, your mind fuzzy and content, like you could stay right here forever and you’d be perfectly happy.

“that was amazing,” you say.

he looks worried now, eyes narrowing like he’s not quite sure he trusts you to be telling the truth, like what just happened wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

“you sure?” he asks, “that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you smile, “i told you, i like when you act like an animal.”

you can feel his cock hardening again inside you, pressing against your walls. he moves his hips so you can feel it shifting with the change in position, at the perfect angle that he knows will make you scream. you watch his lips curl up, a dark smile that matches the darkness in his eyes as he stares at the way you’re trapped underneath him.

“do you?” he says, not a real question. you love when the feral side of him takes control, and you’re watching it happen now, can read what he wants from the look in his eyes.

yeah, you’re in for a long night. and you couldn’t think of anything better.

“you called me your mate,” you comment much later, feeling sated and boneless with your head resting on logan’s solid chest, feeling it rise and fall along with the steady pace of his breathing.

logan hesitates for a long moment. you can feel him tense underneath you, his muscles freezing in place, the smallest hitch in his breath that you wouldn’t have noticed if not for your close proximity. you don’t mind waiting for him to cycle through his thoughts, the words caught in his throat, seconds ticking by in comfortable silence until his frame relaxes once more and he pulls you in closer.

“i did,” is his only reply. short, succinct, waiting expectantly for your response, your reaction to a term that is distinctly animal-like. it’s also the first time he’s put any sort of label on your relationship, other than calling you “mine”, possessively whispering the word in your ear as if you’ll forget if he doesn’t remind you.

“what does that mean for us?” you ask, tracing patterns on his skin, forming each letter of your name with your index finger, “we’ve never actually said what we are, you know. and i can’t say i know the ‘human’ equivalent of the term mate. does this mean you’re my boyfriend? something else?”

“that’s a childish term,” logan says, lines forming between his brows as he frowns.

you smile, leaning in to kiss away the tension there, feeling the slight sheen of sweat that had formed over his skin while he fucked you, not quite dry yet. you should be getting up to shower, rinsing away the salty layer of sweat from your activities, throwing the ruined bedsheets into the laundry to be replaced by clean ones.

but you’re comfortable where you are now, avoiding the mess you’d made of the sheets by curling up on the other side of the bed, wishing you could push up closer to logan despite the fact that you’re already as close as humanly possible. if only you could crawl into his skin, break past his ribs and settle there, protected where no one else could ever reach you, tucked right against his heart.

“what would you want me to call you then?” you ask.

“for now, nothing,” logan says. in his eyes you see a battle, words and thoughts that you wish you could read, that you hope he’ll one day say aloud. “there isn’t a word that’s enough to describe this. one day i’ll be your husband, but until then, just say you’re mine. my girl.”

“are you proposing to me?” you laugh, eyes bright and smile pulling at your cheeks in a way that’s nearly painful.

“no,” he grunts, “when i propose to you it’ll be much better than this.”

and what else can you do but fall into him? your heart feels like it might burst from the warmth that fills you, threatening to spill out from every cell in your body, too much for anyone to properly handle. it’s on your hands when you use them to hold him down, swinging your leg over his lap so you’re straddled atop of him, kissing him in the hopes that it’s enough to express what words will never be enough to express.

he meets you in the middle, mouth hot and demanding. you’ve never felt more wanted, never felt more loved, like you could take on any struggle the universe may throw at you and be fine because logan’s by your side, always there to catch you. you read the promise on his lips, and the word forever is unspoken but you both hear it anyway.

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[acesofspadess]

Qatar

Ace Giovanelli Universe

warnings: Lando cursing, showering together??, Brazil mentions,

summary: Qatar was supposed to end their bad streak, it was supposed to be their week. But they should have known that this season never sticks to the plan.

Qatar

No one spoke about Brazil. They couple was very good in keeping their relationship off the track, but once Lando became a contender for the championship, and then Ace took P3 from Charles making her a contender, there wasn’t any way that strain wouldn’t come to the relationship.

Before the summer break, they were still a couple in the paddock, but after, they were teammates, and it didn’t take a mad scientist to figure out it was hard on both ends of the couple. They made it through every weekend though, Ace willing Lando away from the media, celebrating every moment for him even if he wouldn’t.

But Brazil, that was the worst. Ace had seen Lando angry, but this wasn’t anger, it dehumanising the way Brazil went. They had so much hope after Ace switched positions with him for the Sprint win, still getting a McLaren 1-2. Then the endless rain that delayed quali, and the multiple red flags, it would take a miracle and a half for Lando to come back from this, just as he had finally willed himself to believe he could do it.

“Lando, you have to sleep,” She begged when she came back after finding out he was eating expired food. He hadn’t slept the whole time she was with her mum and he refused to eat the good food in the fridge before and after she arrived.

“I don’t want to.” He sighed, still sitting at his console. “Lando please.” She came up to him running her hands through his hair even though he refused to look at her. “This isn’t good for you mon cœur.” She was so sad for him. “I know that Ace.” He said sharply. Her hands continued to play in his hair despite his resistance. “I’ve lost the battle, people were counting on me and I failed them. They asked me to do one thing and I couldn’t do that.” He finally stood up, with much vigor and walked away.

Ace sighed before following him into the bedroom. “Lando. You didn’t let anyone down. We shoved you into that position entirely too late.” Ace admitted to him. “You could have fought Max, you would probably still be in the race if you didn’t try to not be better than me.” Lando fought back.

“Lando don’t start that.” She immediately shut down. “If I didn’t want to help you, I wouldn’t have. I would have made racing hell for you. But I didn’t-”

“Because team orders.”

“-because I believed in you.” She corrected him. “Help me help you mon amour.” She sat down on her heels next to him. He stayed looking down at their conjoined hands. “It feels like I don’t deserve any of this sometimes. You, my seat, the entire fight.” He listed. She lifted his head up with their conjoined hands. “You are one of the most worthy contenders of everything you just listed. You are a world champion in the making Lan, and never doubt that I will be right next to you when you do. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lando smiled as wide as he could and pulled her onto his lap. “I love you. I’m going to marry you. And when this is all over im going to give you my everything. I haven’t been the best boyfriend this season, I know that. But I’m going to do my best to get back to being who you fell in love with.” He promised rubbing her side.

Ace smiled kissing him so in love. “This has been one hell of a season Lan, I love you everyday, and fall in love with you everyday. We’ve gotten through this season; we can get through anything. As your teammate, girlfriend, or wife.” Lando squeezed her hips involuntarily at hearing her call herself his wife. 

“Let’s get through this last triple header together.”

Vegas was another shit show. It was never a good track for the team, the couple just wanted to finish the race at one point. From Vegas they flew straight to Qatar and met up with Keegan. Ace physically saw the weight of the championship lift off his shoulders. He was smiling and laughing more, in accomplice with his terrible jokes.

Getting to the track Lando held onto her, he normally wasn’t a big PDA person, they normally just walked next to each other, but now his hand was holding hers and his head was leaning against her shoulder. “You’re very cosy today.” She kissed his head while tugging his cream knitted sweater. “It’s cold.” He said softly. “You’re too cute.” Ace smiled as he hugged her waist before they walked into the hub.

The singular practice went well considering the couple were up all night playing Tarkov with Max and Bankai. Sprint Quali was also really good. They were both very fast, switching pole position between the two of them almost every lap.

In the end Lando was on Pole and while she was P2, George split them up pushing her down to P3.

The sprint was finally here and Ace was ready. She knew she had great starts and would try to get past George at the first chance she got.

The final sprint race of the season is underway!

Ace took off in good timing as she pulled up next to George. 

Can Ace Giovanelli put pressure on George in P2? The answer to that is not into the corner, maybe on the outside- it’s Lando Norris that finds himself into the lead- AND ACE GIOVANELLI WHO ROARS BY TO TAKE SECOND PLACE!

Flying around George wasn’t as easy as she would hoped. George was on her rear the entire race. When DRS enabled Ace knew she was under pressure. She was defending like crazy when George was clearly trying everything to get past her. She learned her defending moves from Max, which was a blessing when done correctly. She braked late as she saw George in her mirrors. Their was slight contact, but none to throw her off.

“If you need Lando to give you DRS to defend, let us know.” She heard Rupert. “Yeah, please.” She answered.  She saw the gap in front of her decrease and thanked Lando in her head. 

“Russel 0.4s but you have DRS.”

In the the DRS Ace was able to increases the gap to George while also chasing down Lando.

“Russell 0.6s. You know this, but don’t attack Lando while he’s helping out.”

Ace rolled her eyes as she went into the straight. “Don’t poke a sleeping bear.” She answered back.

She was increasing the gap to George, but staying in Lando’s DRS put her in dirty air which was eating at her tires. 

“I need more pace from Lando please. He’s up my arse.” Ace groaned checking her mirrors. 

“Russell 0.8s. Lando is going to use a bit more pace.” 

Ace kept her distance relative. She wasn’t going to fight Lando after he helped her. Her tires were spent and she was doing all that she could. Lap 9 came and George tried to overtake her into turn 2 which she did not let happen. 

In defending against George she almost lost the DRS to Lando. Lando was getting quicker and she was still fighting George the whole way through. He tried again Lap 14 where Ace effectively cut him off, but lost all DRS from Lando.

“Lando giving DRS.” She heard again and tried to increase her pace. The last 3 laps were purely Ace staying in Lando’s DRS and defending George. There was no room to breathe. 

“Final lap.”

“Mon Dieu finally.”

George tried to get around her again into Turn 1 but it wasn’t possible given her position on the track. Ace was just trying to stay behind Lando when into Turn 19 he went wide letting Ace through just over the line. 

There was no room for her to even back off for him. She continued for the cool down lap looking out the halo for Lando. “Nice work, mate.” Rupert told her. “Yeah, nice teamwork. Thank you for that. Lots of points.”

She was confused about her feelings. She didn’t deserve this win. Lando did, and he gave it up. She saw him wave from his own car as he went wide around the corner. She flipped him off as he sped away.

Pulling up to the makeshift parc-ferme she sat in the car catching her breath. She undid the seatbelt and the wheel before hoping out. She stood behind as Lando got weighed. When he flipped around she saw his eyes crinkle in his wide smile. “You are going to be the death of me.” She said through the open visor. He hugged her anyways. “I love you.” He told her. “I love you.” She said back as they parted ways.

She got weighed, still in shock. Taking off her helmet and balaclava she sighed feeling the cold air. She stripped off her knee-pads and gloves as Zak walked up to her. “Good work out there. That was strong.” He clapped their hands together. “Go easy on him.” She begged as he walked away. 

She fixed her hair for the pictures as Zak came back over to her with Lando to take a team picture. Ace held up a 1 with a smile on her face not even sure it was a real one. After their photo Ace and Lando stepped away from Zak as it was time for Lando's interview. She zipped up his gilet and sent him on his way.

“Second place, Lando Norris, that was an exciting final lap.” Ace watched as Lando discussed his think processes with keeping her in his DRS.

“...and we did our thing.” Lando told James. “It was close at the end there though. Little bit of payback, maybe, for Brazil. How tight was it? Were you concerned that you were not going to be able to orchestrate that? I mean a tenth of a second between you and Ace and only 3 more back to George.. It was tight.” James chuckled.

Lando had a big grin on his face. “I know,” he chuckled. “It was probably a bit closer than what i was wanting, um… yeah, but I planned to do it since Brazil, you know, so..” he shrugged not finding anything else to say. “Just what I though was best, probably a little bit sketchy. The team told me not to do it, but I thought I could grt away with it, and we did. Honestly I don’t mind. I’m not here to win sprint races I’m here to win races and a championship, but that’s not gone to plan you know, so I did the best we could and I look forward to tomorrow.”

Ace shook her head slightly. Of course he did it anyway. It was Lando. “And your winner, for the second time in the Sprint format, and the second consecutive win here in Qatar, Ace Giovanelli.” James introduced her as she and Lando swapped places.

“Look, it started right off the green, you got that great move around George, and really for you it was all about defence for the first part of the race.” Ace nodded along as he broke down her race. “I think it was about defence for the whole race to be honest.” She joked. “But, yeah, I had a good start in turn 1, and then I just didn’t quite have the pace. I lost my front early on. I was struggling a bit for the rest of the sprint. Some great teamwork on Lando’s end, without that help it would have been much more difficult sprint. But it’s nice to have a McLaren 1-2.”

Ace continued on with the interview talking about what she needed to fix for qualifying in few hours. They took their podium picture with their trophies and the sprint was officially over. “I can’t believe you did that.” She told him as they walked together. “You did it for me many times. You earned it. Even if you don’t like sprints.” He teased. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Many congratulations to the top three finishers of the F1 Qatar Sprint ahead of the FIA Formula 1 Qatar Grand Prix. In third place, George Russel. In second place Lando Norris and taking her second sprint victory here in Qatar our winner, Ace Giovanelli….”

Ace sat through the majority of the conference watching them ask George and Lando about the race, but had a few questions for herself.

“...And Ace just for your side of that late switch, I’m presuming that you had know idea it was going to be happening. What was going through your mind when you realised what Lando was doing?” 

Ace picked up her mic as she thought about her answer. “Uh, no I didn’t fully know. I was never told anything, but I know Lando well enough to know how he works. It just speaks about our teamwork and fairness for the team. It doesn’t change the points in the whole view, so. Yeah, I just think it shows lack of egos within the team.” She answered. She set the mic down as George looked over.

“His ego?” He asked shocked. “I’ve got a massive ego.” Lando said without thinking, and when he realised what he said he shook his head laughing in slight embarrassment. Ace chuckled at self-proclamation and slapped his foot. 

Lando was chuckling into the next question, but listened to her answer as it was for the both of them. “No Ace has put it very well obviously, um, yeah, next year is a refresh and you know Ace has an opportunity to fight for the championship too. A lot of what you guys write about and talk about has been because of the Drivers Championship fight, and that’s where a lot of talk and things started. I earned my right to have some of those privile- privl- shit- sorry!” 

Ace smacked a hand to her face at Lando’s slip up. “Landooo.” She groaned, very similar to the Alex did. “That’s a fine.” George teased as Lando groaned rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he apologised again before continuing, “privileges.” He chuckled saying it correctly but losing his train of thought. “Uh… oh yeah, I earned my right by doing a good job through the whole season, to be given that opportunity. I don’t go around asking for it, like I’ve said in previous interviews, it’s certainly not how I want to win a championship. You know, I want to go out and give Max a fair fight and do my part and own it my way. Sometimes there’s inclusion, which is Ace helping me on a couple of occasions. Everyone spoke like it was going to be every race going into Baku, and it was the opposite way around. I did a little bit there, and Ace helped me win in Brazil, sadly things turned for the worst on Sunday, and the opportunity was gone, but I’ve repaid it today. I thinks its our strength as a team, and it’s definitely apart of why we are where we are as a team now. Why we are the top team in Formula 1 and why we’re fighting for the win in the constructors.”

Ace though it was very well put other than the slip up of their team dynamics and how they still managed to work as teammates and not a couple in track.

The race:

Qualifying was shit to say the least, there was no way Ace or Lando were fighting for the front row with the problems the car was having. She and Lando were on the second row together, which for them, was as good as they would get.

As the race unfolded under the floodlights, the battle for the podium- for the constructors- became a breathtaking display of precision and strategy.

From the outset, Ace demonstrated why she’s one of the most promising talents in Formula 1. A clean getaway allowed her to hold her position despite pressure from George Russell's Mercedes. 

However, the race's turning point came during the second stint. After an early pit stop under a virtual safety car, Ace rejoined the track with fresher tires, setting her up for a thrilling duel with her best friend Charles.

She closed in on Leclerc during the middle laps, trading lap times within tenths of a second. Despite her relentless pace, she couldn't quite find the opportunity to pass him, whose defensive driving was textbook-perfect.

“Ace, Lando has a 10 second stop and go penalty, keep pushing as much as you can.”

“What the fuck? For what?!”

“We’ll discuss after, just keep your head down and keep pushing.”

As the final laps approached, the top three were separated by less than seven seconds. Max, in his usual dominant form, led the race comfortably, while Ace remained locked in a battle for second with Charles. 

Even with the anger fuelling her, she couldn't overtake Charles. Getting out of the car in parc ferme she was irritated. She didn’t say anything over the radio, holding her tongue. Charles and Max congratulated her as she did them, but there was no smile on her face.

Ace moved throughout the post race interview on auto-pilot, she was more worried about getting to Lando. She couldn’t remember any of her answers in the media pen, or the team picture, just the look on Lando’s face.

“Hi.” She whispered when she finally got a chance to see him properly. He just shook his head and buried it in her neck as she hugged him. “I’m sorry.” He whispered thickly. “No, don’t do that. Like you said, you aren’t stupid, if you had seen it you would have lifted. That penalty was way too harsh.” She said, pulling his face back. He didn’t meet her eyes, simply looking past her. “Get you stuff mon amour, let's go.” She whispered. As she watched him walk off she pulled out her phone.

Ace: He’s not good

Max: yeah, we’re all pissed, mate

Ace: Are you still streaming?

Max: yeah, have him hop on.

Ace: Read my mind. Love you, talk to you when we get back to the hotel

Max: Love you, ciao.

Lando came out with his bag and Ace held her hand out. He took it and held it closer than normal. “Max is still streaming, you should join when we get back.” She whispered and smiled when she saw the small smile on his face. “Yeah I think I will, just want to forget this entire weekend.” He said as he hopped into the car behind her. The car ride was silent with his head resting on her shoulder. “I love you mon cœur.” She whispered to him out of the blue. “I love you. More than I may say, but I really do. Thank you for everything you do for me.”

He leaned up to peck her lips. “You never have to thank me for taking care of you.” She said, pressing another peck to his lips. The car arrived at their hotel and they quickly went through the elevator and into their room.

“Shower, then you can stream.” She told him softly. He nodded as she stepped into the bathroom to turn the water on. “I’m proud of you.” She heard him from the bedroom. “For?” She questioned still in the bathroom.

“You got P3 today. Almost P2.” She stepped around the threshold as he said it and saw him looking at race highlights. “While I thoroughly enjoy you being obsessed boyfriend coded and watching my highlights, we both know what you’re going to look at next.” She cocked her head at him and sucked his teeth. “Right, so drop the phone and come join me.” She said sternly but softly.

He did as was told and joined her in the bathroom, phone still on the bed, and joined her in the shower. Ace let Lando have the main stream of hot water, she wanted him to relax, sink into whatever world outside of this one. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her, Ace knew he would not be moving from this position unless he had too. With a small chuckle she grabbed her body wash and lathered where she could reach on him.

“Tu vas bien mon amour?” She asked after a particularly heavy sigh from him. He hummed against her chest, “Je t’aime.” he said his little french accent coming in. “Je t’aime aussi.” She smiled.

They remained in the shower not long after, just enough for Ace to wash them both off. Lando put his boxers on after toweling off and putting lotion on before sitting at the desk in the bedroom and opening his laptop.

“You ready for a raid mate?” She finally heard Max’s voice through the computer. “Yeah, whatever, just want to forget about this weekend.”

“I understand pal, more upset than you are, mate.” Max was using a stupid voice on purpose and she was glad he could be there for his best friend no matter what. Lando held his hand out for her without even looking and she chuckled, walking over to sit in his lap.

“Max, say hi.” Lando demanded as the game was loading. “Hello there.” He said in his stupid voice again. “Bonjour Max.” She chuckled. “Congrats, mate. Proud of you.” He complimented. “Merci beaucoup.” She continued in french knowing it piss Max off, which would make Lando laugh.

“Yeah, alright. Before you go on and on in French.” He said annoyed. “Mais tu aimes quand je le fais.” She shrugged and heard him groan frustratedly. “I don’t even know what that means!” He said slightly raging. Ace could see a small smile on Lando’s face.

“I think you only knowing English is your fault Max.” She pressed on further. “I know Portuguese!” He shot back. “Do you?” She said teasingly. “Alright now, I didn’t invite you on to get bullied.” He teased back.

“Is it bullying if its true?” She continued. “Bob, get her mate.” He gave up and Ace heard him chuckle for the first time since getting out of the car. “Yeah, I’m leaving on my own merit, it has nothing to do with you.” She teased getting up from Lando's lap with a peck to his lips. “Ciao, ciao.” max bid. “Wrong language, but ciao, ciao.”

It was nothing short of a busy weekend for Ace, some spectacular news early in the weekend, to the sprint win and podium, but also the fact that they were still fighting for the constructors. The season wasn’t over yet.

taglist: @unlikelystay

[akiranzee]

idea: a very drunk Hashira! reader trying (and somehow succeeding) to rizz up muzan. They hit it off and later on in the final battle, reader who is very shy when sober, finds them again and both just remember that they hooked up-

🥃 • ° ` — “LIQUOR AND SINS”

-> PAIRINGS: Muzan Kibutsuji x Gn!Drunk!Hashira!Y/n -> SUMMARY: The night when your life changed. -> WORD COUNT: 1.5k+ -> CONTAINS: suggestive content, mentions of violence, swearing, muzan’s demon form, drinking, muzan is 1000 while reader is 27. -> A/N: sry if u wanted this smut, its on my rules that i don’t accept smut reqs from anons. i hope u still like this tho!!

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------------Complete!------------

February 14, was the day you finally managed to defeat an uppermoon. Uppermoon 5, to be exact. Surely you’ll celebrate for this wonderful achievement, right? Of course you will.

You’ve been fighting and training hard for five years, of course you’ll let loose a little, just for today.

The other hashiras, especially Mitsuri really wanted you to come with them since they’re having a celebration of their own too, but you turned down the offer.

A cold, peaceful night such as this is something you’d like to keep yourself to.

The bells jingled as you opened the door of a small bar, and ordered for liquor.

It was safe to say, that you can atleast handle a few booze, but having six is just… a little bit too much.

You were a stumbling mess when you attempted to go to the bathroom, your weapon slipping out of your hand in the process.

And that caught a certain someone’s attention.

As you stepped in the woman’s bathroom, you immediately made your way to the sink, and puked your heart out. You didn’t even hear the door open and close, even when the lock clicked.

You panted, the dizziness was still around, something you probably can’t shake off up until tomorrow. For a demon slayer, you’re a one hell of a light drinker, all right.

But despite that, your sight can never waver, for even if it was all a blur, you were sure someone was behind you. You may not see them clearly, but he was a man, and he looked handsome as fuck.

Even before the man could move, you immediately whipped your head towards him, with visible flushed cheeks, and half-lidded eyes. It wouldn’t take a genius to know just how drunk you are.

The man flinched in unexpectation, but what made him surprised more was the fact that he was a complete stranger; yet you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck.

The man immediately withdrew his claws that were a hundred times sharper than a newly sharpened knife, taken aback by the sudden affection.

It was safe to say that you had saved your own life in the most unexpected way, in the most unthinkable way.

The red wine that you just drank and puked had filled in his nose, the scent so tantalizing, yet, as a demon, more over, the demon king, he must not be lured by such a thing.

And yet, the simple press of your thigh against his ‘thing’ has awakened something within him.

You leaned in and whispered something against his ear, but it was inaudible in his side for he felt hot. Your breath was tickling his ear, your heat radiating off of you from how close you both are, and your thigh still pressed on his junior. God damn, he shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a demon for God’s sake.

And that’s how, the night when your life changed.

~~~~~

“Y/n! Pay attention will you!?” Yelled Sanemi, your training partner for today. “The hell you zoning out about!?”

You flinched in surprise as his loud voice had finally reached your ears.

For the past few days, you’ve been always like this. Even Rengoku got upset when he thought you were ignoring him.

For some reason, thoughts — more like memories, start to appear in your brain. Although, you’ve got no assurance if it really is that.

You doubt, but a memory comes in then. A memory that… consisted of heat, lust, temptation, and desire. But you have no recollection of what had happened in that memory.

Even Mitsuri needed to bonk your head so hard to keep those memories out of your head in the middle of a battle.

It was all so distracting, to say the least. Your missions, turned out to be a fail at the end of the day only because you could not pay attention to the demon.

Safe to say, you are getting demoted. That’s for sure.

“Tsk, there you go again! Zoning out!” Sanemi snapped one last time, before throwing his wooden stick to the ground and walked out.

Then, there goes your training session. A failure.

As you slowly, tiredly, packed your things and walked away from Sanemi’s estate, you can’t help but wonder as always; what really happened that night?

You swore you only had a few shots then… right. Then what? Obviously, you don’t remember any more further.

But you do remember seeing a man. A man who wore a white hat, red eyes, and a formal suit. You can’t remember how he looked like, but you remembered his scent, and his voice. And you too, were sure, that he was muscular enough to carry a thousand pound, or even more.

Sauntering towards your estate, your mind elsewhere, as you couldn’t even hear the ongoing chaos that started just about… now.

You heard screaming and explosions, you saw smoke as you looked back, everything falling down in just a second.

You dropped your bag, and ran toward the chaos’ direction, along with your weapon.

You ran as fast as you can, your mind was no longer filled with those heated memories. All you could ever think of now was, are they okay?

You rushed, and panted. You tried to use your breathing technique to get faster, but it was of no avail. You were too late.

Everything had turned into a disaster the moment you turned around, the moment you blinked your eyes, the moment you stopped thinking.

The next thing you knew, you were already sent into a room. No, wait, not a room. It looked like an… endless void.

You stepped foot on it, and explosions could be heard anywhere. It was terrifying, to say the least. But your legs strengthened and rushed forth towards a direction, in which a voice — a screaming voice of a woman could be heard.

And that woman was no other than… Mitsuri. She, was the very first friend you had ever since your arrival. She was an innocent, kind, and bright woman. She did not deserve to live in a world like this.

Better yet, exist in a situation that has got her hissing in pain, and gasping for breath.

Obanai Iguro was there too, fighting for his dear life and for Mitsuri’s.

You stand by Mitsuri’s aid, trying to help her get up.

“I’m… fine, please, help Iguro-san..” Mitsuri weakly pleaded, as her legs trembled when she tried to get herself up with the help of your arm.

You looked at Iguro from afar, and you could see, just how much he was willing to risk just to kill a demon.

You nodded and raced toward his aid, without knowing that it was no ordinary demon he was fighting. Not one of the twelve moons, but the king of them all.

You shivered and froze in spot, his dominating aura getting through to you as you looked up at the monster in fear, Iguro continuing to fight for his life.

You slowly walked towards the battle, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You charged towards the demon, whose hair was long and white, had a muscular form, and a scent so alluring.

Iguro was thrown back against the wall, leaving you and the demon alone.

Muzan looked at you in confusion, upon seeing a new face, but then, he remembers, that you were the woman he was always looking for ever since that night. God, you looked beautiful even when your hair up, but he obviously preferred the way you looked in bed, your hair down and splayed on the soft mattress.

He smirked upon seeing you, “nice to see you, again.” He said with his deep, tempting voice.

Oh god, fuck, now you remember. Those memories, it all became so clear. He was the fucking man you slept with, the man from that very same night too.

You stood in front of him from quite a distance, but instead of attacking you, he instead went near and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in as his lips touched yours.

You finally remembered the heat, the pleasure, and the desire.

Your comrades can only look from afar, can only look at your betrayal.

★ • ° ` — BONUS:

Weeks before, Mitsuri gasped loudly, her gasp literally echoing through the silent forest, as you told her about your current predicament.

“R-Really!? Omg! You slept with someone!!” Mitsuri announced and gasped loudly again, causing you to place both your hands on her mouth.

“S-Shh! Everyone’s gonna hear you!” You whisper-yelled, as Mitsuri nodded apologetically. Her big mouth always getting the best of her, when it comes to something she always calls “love”.

You sigh in defeat, as you already expect that Mitsuri will probably accidentally slip some words out.

“W-Wait! How did he look like!? What was it like!? Did you feel good!?” Mitsuri’s enthusiasm boosted up again, excitedly asking you about your unforgettable experience.

“Well… it definitely felt like something I never felt like before.. he was um.. muscular.. handsome.. and most definitely big down there.” Mitsuri broke into a cackle, as she held her stomach and wiped the tears in her eyes.

“S-Seriously- haha- t-that was what you r-remember? You sure must’ve s-stared at it for a long time! Hahaha!” Mitsuri continued laughing, as embarrassment started to creep up your cheeks, turning your head away from her, “S-Shh!” as you tried to shut her up.

But it was true though, you can’t deny the fact that he was packing down there.

a/n: u guys imagine the rest

[naughtyjjk]

just a massage (pt. 3)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, teasing, sexual tension, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, edging, creampie notes: this is the final part of the massage series! thank you everyone for your patience with me and i hope it's worth the wait. you can read part 1 and part 2 as well!

you watch with great satisfaction as nanami takes in the sight of you. it’s almost comical how he’s stunned to silence, and you feel your confidence surging as you stand there in front of him.

if anyone happens to open the door right now, you’re sure that you’d be accused of public indecency, given what you’re wearing. you’d no doubt be banned from the massage parlor forever. but you’ve gotten more daring with each session that you attend—more daring, and more sexually frustrated with how nanami insists on continuously teasing you. so, you figure that it’s about time to take matters into your own hands.

“you—” nanami swallows. his voice is strained, and he seems to struggle with deciding on what to say. “you’re… supposed to take off all your clothes before we start.”

smirking, you feign innocence. of course you know by now. it’s far from the first time you’ve been here, after all.

“well…” you drawl, “i was hoping you could help me undress.”

you’re wearing the most scandalous clothing pieces you own today, a matching lingerie set, and there’s no way that you were going to let nanawi start the massage before showing it off. the outer layer, which has already been discarded, consists of your usual work attire. from the perspective of the general public, it’d be impossible to guess that you have something like this hidden underneath.

“fuck,” you hear nanami mutter as he closes the distance between you. he reaches out, slightly hesitant, running his hands over the strap of your bra, tracing it down to where it cups your breasts. the fabric is thin, practically see-through, your nipples visibly hard.

for a moment, he’s entirely captivated by your breasts and the way your bra emphasizes your curves. his fingers slide along the exposed skin, up and down the sides, dipping into the valley between your breasts and continuing further past your stomach. his touch is electrifying. every inch of your body that he explores makes you shiver and when he finally reaches your panties, he follows the thin strap of it along your pelvic bone. stopping right before he brushes a hand against your pussy.

“did you have this under your clothes all day?” nanami asks, arousal evident in his voice, in the way he’s devouring you with his eyes. he’s hard in his pants, so obviously turned on by your lingerie, and he doesn’t even bother to hide it. not that he could even if he wanted to—the bulge between his legs is unmistakable.

you nod and look at him suggestively. “mm, and i was thinking of you the whole time,” you say. “want to see the back?”

you don’t wait for nanami to answer, turning around to show off your outfit—or lack of, because what you’re wearing is effectively a thong, with a single strap that goes down the middle of your ass and just barely manages to cover your pussy. everything else is fully on display, the thin fabric complimenting your body perfectly, making you an irresistible sight. taking it a step further, you bend forward, shaking your ass a bit so that nanami can really see what you have to offer.

it’s clearly working because nanami sucks in a sharp breath. “god…” he seems to be fighting his desires, holding himself back, but eventually reaches out with both hands to slide them down the plane of your back, past your hips, until they’re pressed against your ass, squeezing. then, nanami retreats and clears his throat. “is this something that you wear… often?”

turning back to look at him, you say, “not anymore. it’s been a while.” you lick your lips. “i only put them on for special occasions.”

and with that, your gaze drops to the tent between nanami’s legs, satisfied at the fact that you’ve managed to make him so hard already. leaning back, you press your ass right on his growing erection and grind against it filthily.

immediately, nanami curses, taken by surprise. “fuck, you’re—okay, okay. that’s enough. let’s get you out of these.”

straightening, you mentally congratulate yourself for being able to have such an effect on him simply by wearing a few pieces of suggestive clothing and showing some skin. of course, if he hadn’t pushed you to this point, you would’ve never thought to do this. it almost makes you grateful for all the teasing during your previous sessions. almost.

for a long while, nanami doesn’t speak as he admires your body using both his sense of sight and touch. the silence only makes the tension between you more palpable. you didn’t think you could get more aroused just from the process of removing your clothes, but nanami once again proves you wrong.

a single finger trails down your back, along your spine, and you shudder, embarrassingly close to letting out a moan. your breath comes out shaky, nerves tingling. the delicate touch, the feeling of nanami’s hand on your skin, the sensuality of it all—it’s almost too much for you to handle. but you’re even less prepared for when nanami steps forward and hugs you from behind, both hands slipping under your bra easily and sliding up to squeeze your breasts.

he pushes them together, then apart, rubbing them in circles. he plays with your nipples expertly, knowing exactly what you like by now. grasping the hardened nubs between two fingers, nanami pinches and twists, rolls his palms over them, and earns a soft groan from you in response.

“you have no idea how erotic you look in this,” nanami whispers in your ear, and you could melt right there. his hands roam over your chest and stomach, back and forth, like he can’t get enough. “so fucking hot. so sexy. all for me.”

“k-kento,” you start, but you don’t know exactly what you’re asking for. it’s suddenly too warm in this room, your body heating up from nanami’s proximity.

“lift your arms a bit,” nanami tells you as he undoes the hook and slides your bra off your shoulders, discarding it on the ground. with your top fully exposed now, nanami deliberately avoids touching you and turns his attention to your pussy.

you feel yourself getting wetter once his gaze is fixated on your panties, and again when he traces along the strap of your thong that circles around your hips. it doesn’t go unnoticed how you try to squeeze your thighs together. hooking a finger under the strap on both sides, nanami pulls it down slowly and watches as your pussy is finally exposed.

nanami makes an appreciative sound at the back of his throat, but still, he doesn’t touch you anymore. “you planned this, didn’t you? got all dressed up to seduce me as soon as you walked in…”

you can’t deny it, so you only stand there while nanami drinks in the sight of your fully naked body. there’s hunger in the way he looks at you. there’s lust and desire, too. it feels like he’s spent so long on this—the foreplay, the slow unraveling of your body—but he’s hardly even done anything yet. it leaves you fucking horny, unbearably so, and your dripping pussy is proof of that.

“if you wanted to get me all hot and bothered, i’ll admit that it worked. i’m beyond turned on right now,” nanami says. “but i won’t give you what you want so easily just because you showed up in some lingerie.”

“why not?” you meant for it to sound like a challenge, but it comes out more as a whine, almost pouting as you try to hide your disappointment. “i’m already offering my body to you. don’t you want to take me right here?”

“oh, i will,” nanami says, a promise. his gaze darkens, clearly more affected by all this than he’s willing to admit. “but you booked for a massage, and i’m still a professional. so, get on the bed. now.”

the demanding tone and the way he’s visibly holding himself back makes your pussy throb. you go to lie down as instructed and watch as nanami hovers over you, hands finally returning to caress your body. they move down your sides, tickling your ribs. tracing the v-line of your crotch, starting at both sides of the hips and moving closer together, down toward your pussy.

you struggle to refrain from squirming on the spot, waiting in anticipation of a touch that never comes. “kento, please,” you say. “i’ve been wet for hours thinking about you…”

“god.” nanami swallows. “i can’t get over the fact that anyone could’ve seen how naughty you are. is that something you’re into? did it turn you on walking around like this all day?”

“maybe. would it bother you if someone else noticed before i got here?” you grin, mischievous. “i might’ve even let them fuck me, too, if i was horny enough.”

eyes narrowing, nanami exhales. “how about you show me what that dirty mouth of yours can do instead of trying to make me jealous. come on, we both know you want my cock more than anything. it never takes long for you to start begging for it.”

nanami stands himself next to you. with how the bed is raised, in this position, his erection is right there by your face; if you move even a little bit, you’ll be able to make contact with it. and to your surprise, nanami uses a hand to guide your head in his direction, until you’re pressed right up against the straining tent of his cock.

in this situation, there’s only one thing for you to do: you more than willingly mouth at his cock over the fabric, outlining the bulge with your lips, hot breath traveling up and down the shaft. he moans when you open your mouth, taking in the tip as if to swallow him down, licking all over. you wish that you could remove the barrier, actually see and taste the hardening cock in front of you.

something must snap inside nanami because not a minute later, he’s shoving down his pants and pulling out his cock from the restraints. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him fully exposed like this, and it’s glorious, instantly reigniting your arousal. he’s only half hard, but his cock is long, and thick, and you’re already imagining what it would look like when it’s curved up toward his abdomen, flushed and glistening with precum.

“this is going inside you later,” nanami says, more of a declaration, a fact, than anything else. he holds his cock so that the tip of it is angled toward your mouth, just close enough to brush against your lips. “be a good girl now and make it nice and hard for me.”

eager, you immediately get to work. you start off by licking his cock, flattening your tongue and sliding up the length of his shaft, swirling around the tip. the taste of precum spurs you on and you trace along the bulging vein on the underside again and again, until nanami has become noticeably more breathless. a low, filthy moan is drawn out of him when you flick your tongue just beneath the cockhead, knowing how sensitive it is there. in turn, your pussy aches, begging for some attention.

but what turns you on the most is swallowing down nanami’s full erection and physically feeling him grow harder in your mouth. the minute you begin to move, bobbing your head and sucking him off with determination, he voices his appreciation in low, strained grunts.

“fuck, yeah, just like that.” he’s panting, struggling to hold himself back from thrusting into your mouth. “oh—oh fuck—you can’t get enough of my cock, can you? look at how well you’re taking it.”

that makes you moan because it’s true. you both know that you’ve wanted nanami’s cock since your very first massage session. you continue to suck him off until you can’t anymore and have to pull away for a moment, but not before giving him a final lick, leaving his cock standing tall in the space between you, spilling precum down the shaft.

“hah—you’re really tempting me today,” nanami says. his gaze flickers down to your breasts, you pussy. “you’re getting off on this too, aren’t you?”

grinning, you lick your lips, still tasting him on your tongue. “can you blame me when i know what’s going to happen next?”

nanami’s eyes darken. “getting cocky, aren’t you? we can’t have that.” he steps away for a second and you almost call after him, but you still have some sense of dignity remaining. nanami returns a while later with a new towel in his hands and places it over your eyes, effectively blindfolding you. leaning in, he licks the shell of your ear and whispers, “don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

shuddering, you have to stifle a moan. the world has turned dark with the towel blocking your eyes and you can hear nanami shuffling beside you, but there’s no way for you to figure out exactly what he’s doing. a part of you knows that you could easily remove the towel if you wanted to—though, if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you find this new predicament fucking hot. you can’t see, you don’t know what nanami will do next or where he will touch. you’re completely at his mercy.

“this is turning you on, isn’t it? naughty girl.” nanami pours oil all over you and spreads it out evenly. he then rubs his hands along your thighs and already, you can feel yourself getting wetter as he spreads your legs apart. “fuck, you should see the state you’re in right now. pussy begging for my attention…”

you whine. “touch me… come on, kento. i wanna—wanna feel you—”

“mm, of course you do,” nanami murmurs but he continues focusing on your thighs and only your thighs. “have some patience, darling. let me take care of you.”

as he says that, the surface beneath you dips, an additional weight added like nanami has climbed on the bed with you. this suspicion is confirmed when you hear his voice next to your ear, “you can’t see me right now, but i want you to imagine that i’m on top of you, my hips hovering just above yours.”

“fuck.” your pussy throbs with desire, and the two of you are so close that you can feel nanami’s cock brushing against your skin when it twitches. it takes all of your willpower to resist bucking up, searching for more of that delicious friction.

both hands reaching down to cup your breasts, massaging them, nanami says, “your nipples are so hard.” squeezing, he fondles them appreciatively, flicking them and making you gasp. “that’s it, let yourself feel good.”

you moan at that. it’s euphoric when nanami finally lines your hips up together and grinds down, an instant rush of arousal concentrated on your pussy. it feels so fucking good. the pleasure continues as he slides his cock back and forth, effectively rutting against you, humping you on the bed with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. in response, you lift your hips instinctively, no longer in control of your actions as your mind turns into a haze.

but when you do this, every time, nanami always makes sure to pull away so that he’s just out of reach. you figure out the pattern fairly quickly, but you can’t help yourself, thrusting up involuntarily despite knowing that you won’t find any relief. you whimper, wanting more. but nanami is determined to go at his own pace, and it only serves to make you increasingly frustrated.

“just look at you,” nanami says, hips digging into yours, cock pressed against your pussy. meanwhile, his mouth is by your ear and trailing down your neck. “you’re so fucking wet already.”

there’s no hiding just how turned on he you are, not when your legs are spread wide open for nanami to see. you want him inside already. “kento, please…”

nanami shifts a little and positions himself so that his cock rubs against your clit every time he grinds on your pussy, making you curse and cry out at the sudden spike in pleasure. your wetness, mixed with his leaking precum, makes the slide feel that much better.

all of a sudden, nanami grunts, and that’s the only warning you get before the pace picks up, rocking his hips twice as fast. It’s like the last of his self-control has snapped. you’re thrown off guard and the increased stimulation is overwhelming, making you squirm on the spot, back arching. “k-kento—! shit, that’s—yes, yes, keep going—hng—oh fuck, i’m—”

“you’re getting close, aren’t you?” nanami asks. even though you still can’t see him, you can feel the weight of his stare, watching your body closely for any signs that you’ll tip over the edge. it’s like he’s somehow able to read you perfectly even though this is only the first time you’ve properly fucked. “how are you feeling? think you’ll come soon?”

“h-hah—fuck—feels good, feels so good—” you moan brokenly, losing yourself in the sensations. “c-close—I’m close—”

“i know.” nanami is equally breathless, even if he tries not to show it. “you have two options: i could make you come now and give you the release you want right here, or…” he purposely grinds hard against you and you have no doubt that he could follow through on his words, “if you can hold it, i’ll put my cock in you and fuck you hard like the naughty little girl you are.”

shuddering, you don’t even have to think, not with the way you’re throbbing between your legs. you’ve only wanted one thing ever since he saw nanami at your first massage session. “y-your cock—ah, please—want your cock—”

nanami smirks. “yeah? think you can hold back from coming, then?”

“i-i can,” you say, even though you let out a groan immediately after. It’s a gamble, really; you don’t know how much your body can take, but there’s nothing you want more than to have his cock inside you.

“that’s what i like to hear,” nanami praises. “you better not come yet.”

moaning, your entire body is tense from struggling not to let yourself feel too good. the problem is that nanami doesn’t stop; he continues grinding on you, maintaining the brutal speed that has you throwing back your head, trembling with every thrust.

the delicious slide of his cock has you coming undone, and your pussy, your clit, throbs in warning of your release that seems inevitable now. it’s bad because nanami is throbbing too, both of you pulsing against each other, which only makes you more turned on, every instinct in your body telling you to give in.

“no, no—k-kento, stop—ah—hah—fuck, i can’t—i don’t wanna come yet—”

you don’t expect nanami to pull away entirely. it’s frustrating and a relief all at once. the loss of stimulation is abrupt, and you body doesn’t fully manage to catch up until a second later, a wave of heat rushing through you, chest heaving, pussy aching to be touched again. you know that nanami must be getting off on this, sitting back in cruel satisfaction to watch you desperately try to fight off your orgasm.

you arch off the bed, still bucking your hips forward a few times. you just can’t help it. your pussy is dripping with your desire, helplessly horny and so damn turned on. fuck. the denial of your orgasm burns through you, even though it’s exactly what you asked for.

“yeah, that’s it. ride the edge for me. such a good girl,” nanami murmurs, tracing a finger gently along your opening—the opening where his fingers could penetrate you, where his cock could penetrate you. the unexpected contact makes you gasp now that you’re more sensitive than ever. “you like being denied, don’t you? you like being told when you’re allowed to come.”

you moan weakly in confirmation. you don’t want to admit it—that you like the torture, the cruel denial, the drawn-out pleasure that makes you break down. you like being kept on the edge, so close but forbidden from coming. being completely at nanami’s mercy. you want to prove that you can be good, even if your body begs and pleads for release, so that you can eventually earn the reward of his thick, hard cock.

“open your eyes. look at how filthy you are.” nanami reaches over to remove the towel covering your eyes. “look at the mess you’ve made.”

blinking, you adjust to the brightness of the room and glance down as you’re told, seeing yourself for the first time in a while. nanami is right; it’s an absolutely filthy sight, and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking turned on, judgement clouded by lust.

between your legs, your pussy is swollen and aching, the bed soaked with your arousal. nanami, with his cock absolutely rigid, standing tall and curving up to his abdomen, kneels before you. he’s flushed a dark, hungry red. the veins bulge out along the shaft of his cock, still throbbing and twitching occasionally. His cock weeps, precum glistens down his entire length. his balls are heavy and full and he seems like he’s at his limit, like he’s going to burst with a single touch.

god, you think, this might just be the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. nanami runs a hand through his hair, loose strands falling in front of his face, and his toned muscles shift with the movement, arms flexing. he looks at you like he wants you, like he’s barely managing to hold himself back. he’s not nearly as composed as he pretends to be, considering the fact that his other hand has been stroking himself this whole time.

you watch, mesmerized for a moment, as that hard cock disappears and reappears in his fist. nanami moans, head falling back as he circles around the tip. his breath stutters. then, he looks at you, eyes filled with pure lust and desire. “still want my cock?”

you swallow, mouth dry. “please.”

letting go of himself, nanami licks his lips. “turn around, then. get on your knees.” when you instantly obey, he hums, satisfied. “now raise your ass—yeah, that’s it, show me that pretty pussy of yours.”

a finger reaches out to trace the outer area of your opening and nanami pours more oil, using it to ease his finger inside. he pumps the digit back and forth, slowly at first to allow you to adjust to the sensation. but all you’re thinking about is his cock replacing his finger, his cock stretching you wide, reaching far deeper than—

you gasp when a second finger enters without warning. choking out a moan, you feel yourself loosening to accommodate the extra width, hips beginning to push back and move on their own.

“let’s see,” nanami murmurs. “if i remember, your spot was somewhere here…”

the next few thrusts are done in search of your g-spot, aimed at different angles to draw out that particular reaction nanami is looking for. at some point, you feel a brush against the sensitive nerves, not quite hitting it directly, but it’s enough to make you whine. if you turned around at that moment, you’re sure that nanami would be smiling wickedly.

“found it,” he whispers, a hot breath right by your ear.

you shudder from those words alone. then, you feel his fingers curling just slightly, pressing into that area with the perfect amount of pressure, and your entire body jolts. the pleasure is blinding, so intense that it leaves you trembling in the aftershocks. your mind goes blank, and you can’t stop the moans and whimpers that escape you. “hah—hah—oh my god—f-fuck—please, there—there—”

your pussy throbs, squeezing around nanami’s fingers with every single thrust that follows. as soon as the familiar buildup to your orgasm starts to accumulate, nanami suddenly decides to pull out.

whimpering, your thighs tremble; your body is on fire. you don’t know how to tame the arousal that sears through you or how to handle being this fucking turned on. you just want to be filled again, want to be fucked hard enough that it makes you scream.

“i think you’re ready for me now,” nanami says, and you almost sob in relief. he rubs the head of his cock against your entrance, almost pushing in, before retreating completely. “but first, i want you shaking and begging for this to be inside you.”

nanami lets his cock slide between your thighs, practically fucking you there, brushing against your desperate pussy with every thrust. it’s deliberate, the way he applies pressure, tormenting you with his cock. never giving you what you want. and you can’t take it anymore; you can’t.

“fuck—a-ah—fuck, kento—stop teasing already—” you whine as nanami taunts you with only the tip, not allowing you nearly enough stimulation to get off. it leaves you frustrated, so fucking aroused and riled up beyond return. you’ve been reduced to an embarrassing state, moaning over and over, feeling his cockhead stretching you open only to withdraw, until—

“ah—oops,” he says far too innocently as he plunges the full length of his hard, throbbing cock inside you without any warning. as quickly as it goes in, he pulls out all the way, leaving you desperately empty again before you’re even able to process what happened. “my apologies. it slipped in by accident.”

you cry out, panting, nails digging into the bed. a low, guttural moan spills from your lips and you sound so wrecked, so broken, that you hardly even recognize your own voice. you body is burning and your pussy clenches around nothing. there’s only one thing on your mind, hazy and clouded with lust, pure arousal coursing through your veins: he want nanami inside you, want nanami to fuck you so badly—hard and fast and deep enough that you feel it for days after. you want to fucking come on nanami’s cock.

but nanami has gone back to rubbing the head of his cock by your entrance, denying you of anything more. occasionally, he’ll put in just the tip, just enough to give you a taste of what you could be getting, before leaving you empty once more, whimpering helplessly on the bed.

you’re not expecting it when it happens again—nanami slipping inside you all the way, completely unannounced. this time, you both moan when he bottoms out, balls slapping against your ass. he stays there for a few seconds, circling his hips, cock twitching and throbbing as it hits your inner walls at every angle. as soon as you start to feel good, clamping down around him, he pulls out again, cruelly.

“ngh—p-please, kento—your cock—want your cock—” you beg, and your pussy is so wet for him. so horny for him. “fuck me—fuck me already—please—”

“sh-shit—” nanami’s voice is the only thing that gives away just how much he wants it, too. finally, god finally, he penetrates you, stretching open your pussy and pushing in. inch… by inch… by inch. achingly slow. still managing to tease you on purpose, without mercy, testing your limits in self-control.

you moan loud when nanami buries himself deep, feeling the entire length of his thick cock inside you. he stays there like that for a while, hips moving so minutely that you sometimes think you imagined it. but it’s always just enough for you to feel it; never enough for it to be satisfying.

“hah—feel that?” nanami whispers, voice strained and breathless. “feel my hard cock throbbing inside you?”

moaning brokenly, you do feel it—the way it’s pushing against your walls, pulsing in waves, making your head spin. this has to be the sweetest torture that you’ve ever experienced, only serving to make you more frustrated. you feel nanami’s erection shifting inside you, and just when you manage to adjust to the sensation, he begins pulling out fully—still going slow, letting his cock drag and drag and drag until only the tip remains inside.

fuck. fuck, it’s only been one thrust. the single most agonizing and dreadful thrust that you’ve ever had to endure. nanami is taking you apart piece by piece, so skillfully that it would almost be embarrassing if you were any less aroused. nanami’s sense of restraint is definitely commendable, but god, you wish that he’d just get on with it.

trying to swivel your hips and take matters into your own hands, you desperately try to seek more of the delicious friction. meanwhile, nanami is still rocking into you languidly but only with the head of his cock now, teasing and stretching your pussy over and over.

“i can—i can tell that you want it so bad,” he says, watching the way your body aches for it. “why don’t you use your words, sweetheart. be a good girl and let me hear how well you can beg.”

“kento—” you break off, whining. you yearn for it, need to be filled, need to have all of nanami inside you again. “p-please—hng—you—your cock—please!”

“yeah? and where do you want my cock?”

“i-inside.” you’re trembling, desperate. “in my pussy. wanna—wanna be fucked by your cock—hard and deep—ngh, kento—please just—p-put it in already—”

nanami sucks in a breath, groaning as his self-control withers away upon hearing those words. he looks at you, with your face down and ass up, pussy dripping as evidence of your desire, and finds himself at his limit, too. he’s made you wait long enough. he’s made himself wait long enough.

sinking inside, you both moan as nanami buries himself into you, starting with shallow thrusts that get deeper and deeper as time goes on. each roll of the hips is deliberate, his cock searching for the place that will make you fall apart.

“yes, yes—a-ah!” the stimulation on your g-spot has you shaking, arousal peaking. “right there—fuck, that’s—ngh, so good—feels so good—”

once nanami gets going, he really doesn’t hold back. he pounds into you at a brutal pace, making sure to aim deep inside you every time. clawing at the bed, you try to pull yourself away, just a little bit, but he only drags you back and holds you down in place, forcing you to take it.

“t-too much—hah—it’s too much—shit, kento—kento—i’m about to—”

you hardly even realize that you’re moaning again and again, so consumed by the pleasure, until nanami reminds you, “shh, not so loud. unless you want everyone to hear just how fucking naughty you are.”

heat rushes over you, body burning at the implications, and just the thought alone is enough to almost make you come. it must be obvious that you’re nearing your limit because nanami growls and says, “don’t come. don’t you fucking dare come. i’m not done with you yet.”

those words almost push you right over the edge and all you can do is moan and whimper, helpless to take nanami’s cock over and over, steadily building you up to your climax. “hah—hah—fuck, i-i can’t—can’t hold—” you’re shaking, begging; there’s no relief, just a constant assault targeted at g-spot as you try desperately to stave off your inevitable orgasm. “o-oh my god, i—i’m gonna—i’m gonna come—”

immediately, nanami stops. the whole world seems to freeze.

the only sounds in the room are your ragged, panting breaths. your arms give out and you collapse forward on the bed, ass still raised from where you’re connected with nanami. a wave of the most intense heat you’ve ever felt scorches through your body, and your mind is still a haze, struggling to comprehend what just happened.

“fuck!” you can’t help crying out, desperate for nanami to keep moving. to keep doing—something. anything. “n-no, fuck, please—i-i need—”

but of course, it never comes. nanami made sure of that.

you had been so close; god, you had been so fucking close. between your legs, your pussy throbs in protest. you feel it like a cruel reminder of your almost-orgasm every time it pulses, pulses, pulses, even long after you’ve been denied of any further stimulation. you were so ready for release, so sure that you’d get it despite nanami’s words because of how quickly you had been hurtling toward the edge, mere seconds from tipping over.

“good girl, so good for me,” nanami murmurs, the praise reigniting your arousal. he nods at your dripping pussy. “fuck, i bet you’re just aching for it, aren’t you? i’ve never seen such a desperate, horny pussy before.”

and you’re all too aware of his hands which are circling around your hips, inching toward your clit, which has been neglected since earlier. tingles shoot up your spine as he brushes a finger against it, and you’re still hanging dangerously on the edge, right at the brink.

“p-please…” you say, willing to accept anything at this point. anything that nanami can give you. “i’m so close…”

nanami hums. “how much more do you think it’ll take for you to come?” he asks, fingers hovering right above your clit while you’re still very much aware that his cock is buried inside you. “two strokes on this sensitive clit? a single thrust in your pussy?”

whimpering, you throb under his touch. “i-i don’t—i can’t—”

“let’s find out, hm?” nanami doesn’t allow you any more time to think. his cock, deep in your pussy, begins to move at the same time as his hand, circling your clit while thrusting deep as he rolls his hips. groaning, he begins to count, “one.”

the build-up this time is alarmingly fast, hitting you as soon as you feel him pounding into you, aiming deliberately for your g-spot again. it’s instantly overwhelming, the way his hand makes tight, rapid circles around your clit while he’s simultaneously stuffing you with his cock. the assault is merciless, and you’re far too close to the edge to even try and hold back. “c-coming—ah, fuck—fuck, i’m—”

nanami doesn’t even get to count to two before you’re clenching around his cock and moaning loud and coming so hard that you don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this. nanami’s cock pulses inside you and your mind blanks. you don’t stop coming until he’s finally pushed to his limit, too.

“shit, shit—” nanami moans, low and guttural. he fucks you through it, not stopping until he’s reached his climax, too. “so fucking tight—you’re—ngh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come—”

a moment later, warmth erupts inside you, making you whine softly. nanami’s hips stutter as he throws his head back, panting and moaning through his orgasm. he throbs inside you, continues throbbing until he’s emptied all of his release, filling you up in the best way.

as he pulls out, you can feel his come trickling out of your pussy, so filthy, so fucking hot. you’re sure that the sight of it is erotic, too—thick, white sperm dripping out of you as evidence of nanami’s cock claiming you. breathing heavily on top of you, nanami shuts his eyes to reorient himself from the high of his orgasm.

mind still hazy, you glance at the ceiling, then around at your surroundings. you remember where you are: the massage parlor. right. you can’t believe you really just had sex here; can’t believe it took this long for nanami to finally fuck you without getting interrupted or stopping abruptly due to time constraints.

when nanami opens his eyes again, he looks at you and runs a hand through his hair. the action shouldn’t look so hot—he shouldn’t look so hot after giving you the best fucking of your life. he says, voice low, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

you grin at him. “you can’t deny that it was good, though.”

“i’ve never come so hard before,” nanami admits.

two sessions of teasing each other. weeks of holding back, masturbating to the thought of each other. your attraction to each other, all the sexual tension, everything built up to this moment. you can still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm, the pleasure spreading throughout your body in waves. it's the same for nanami.

neither of you are pretending that this is a massage anymore. truthfully, it hasn’t been for a long time.

“think i can come see you again sometime?” you ask.

“well, i work here,” he says. “and you’re welcome to visit any time you need stress relief, of course.”

of course, you think. you're absolutely going to take him up on that offer.

.

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