#there's only so much mindful breathing I can do before it drives me crazy too

[hanniebaeee]

The Ex

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

Genre: exes to lovers, fluffffff

Summary: Your ex, Hyunjin, calls you at midnight, injured and freaked out. The fact that you're still in love with him may be a problem. Or not.

Your break-up with Hyunjin had been a literal storm. Tear-soaked, heartbreaking, and both of you still so much in love that it hurt beyond words could explain. You didn't understand how it came to it, actually. Watching him walk away was the hardest thing you've ever had to do, and that's an image you can't get off your mind. No matter how hard you try.

You tried to delete his number, unfollow him literally everywhere, and move on with your life. But it was easier said than done. That's why when his number flashes on your phone screen, you freeze.

You almost ignore it. Almost. But something inside you won't let you, and here you are, answering his call.

“Hyunjin?”

There’s a weird silence on his side. You haven't heard his voice since you broke up a couple of months ago, and the anticipation is killing you.

You're starting to think that he made a mistake, when you hear his breath on the other line - heavy and desperate.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin’s voice is shaky, and you sit upright, your heart in your throat.

“Hyunjin? What’s going on?” you ask, ready to run. “Are you ok?”

“I’m at - at the hospital,” he chokes out.

“What? What happened?!” you ask, fear starting to grip you.

“I fell…I was going down some stairs, trying to carry all my art supplies - don’t ask, it’s a long story. But I tripped and fell down the stairs, and my foot, it’s swelling up. It hurts like hell, Y/N, I’m so scared-” His voice breaks, and he takes in a shaky breath. “Someone dropped me here, and I don’t - I don’t even know anyone in this city.”

Your heart sinks, imagining him sitting there, hurt and scared and…alone. You know you should feel nothing for him. Maybe a bit of concern, but nothing else. He's your ex.

But no, that isn’t how your heart works. This is Hyunjin, it says, the guy you spent way too many sleepless nights with, the guy you had to claw out of your chest when you broke up.

“Hello? Y/N?” Hyunjin sounds like a lost little child, his little sobs gripping at your poor heart.

“Hyunjin, take a breath. Oh my God. Stop crying, baby, I’m on my way, okay? I-” You freeze, closing your eyes, cursing yourself for the slip.

You called him baby?!

A beat of silence. You can hear Hyunjin sniffling on the other side, and you panic.

“Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean-” you stutter, before quickly saying, “I'll see you soon.”

You hang up before he can reply, embarrassment coursing through you. You sit on your couch cringing and feeling terrible. Taking a deep breath, you reach for your phone again. You need backup and there’s only one person who can handle Hyunjin like you do.

So, with shaking fingers, you dial Changbin's number, as you make your way to your bedroom. Changbin picks up after about two rings, and says, “Hey babe, you good?”

“I'm not sure, Bin. Hyunjin called me…he’s hurt. He’s at the hospital, and he’s-” You fall silent as you hear Changbin sigh.

You can tell he’s running his hand through his hair the way he always does when he’s dealing with one of your ‘Hyunjin’ emergencies.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go,” he says, but you both know you’re not going to let him go alone.

“Yeah, no. I’m coming with you. I can’t just sit here while he’s hurt,” you argue, already pulling on a jumper over your t-shirt.

“You’re crazy for doing this, you know that?” Changbin says.

“Yeah, what's new?” you mutter, pulling your jeans on, and then your shoes.

“Alright,” Changbin sighs, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s go pick up our delicate flower.”

He's over at yours in record time, and gives you an unimpressed look.

“Binnie, not now!” You say as you both get into his car.

The drive is only about an hour, but it feels like hours. You try not to think of the last time you made this journey. It ended up with you coming back alone and so broken. Now, you sit in silence, Changbin can feel you unraveling.

He shoots you a look and asks, “You okay?”

You let out a hollow laugh.

“I mean, my ex, with whom I’m still kind of in love with, is in the hospital. So, I guess I’m as fine as I can be.”

“Kind of? Who are you kidding?” Changbin raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Ok, shut up.” you mumble, cheeks burning and you look away, hoping he'll leave it alone.

But he just laughs, putting his hand on yours.

“I get it, ok? You’re a good person for doing this, Y/N.” he says softly, and you feel a tear prickle at the corner of your eye.

You blink it back, trying your best to hold it together.

“He must have moved on, right?” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your jacket.

“If you're talking about Hwang Hyunjin, I can assure you that he’s still head over heels for you, even if he won’t admit it.”

You manage a small smile at that and say, “You think?”

“No, I know,” Changbin says, smiling, “He wouldn’t have called you if he wasn't. You’re still the only person who can get through to him.”

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that?” You say, squeezing his hand.

“You are,” he agrees, flashing you a cocky smirk. “And you’re welcome. Now, let’s go remind Hyunjin that he’s not a fragile old man on his deathbed.”

By the time you finally get to the hospital, your nerves are buzzing. You walk in with Changbin by your side, his hand a steady presence at your back.

And there he is, slumped in a chair with his injured foot propped up, wearing a miserable, pouty expression, and it's so adorable, it crushes you almost immediately.

When his eyes land on you, they light up and he's reaching out to you.

“You came!” His voice cracks, and you hate that it makes your heart flutter.

He takes your hand in his and presses his cheek to it, and holds onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “You actually came?”

You’re still mad at yourself for caring this much, but you don't regret anything. Not after seeing him like this.

“Yeah, you idiot. Of course I did.” you say gently, sitting near him.

He looks away, probably trying to hide his tears, and mutters, “I thought you’d never want to see me again.”

You’re about to reply when Changbin clears his throat.

“Hello to you too Hyunjin. Oh, how am I? I'm good!” He says dryly, making you laugh.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes at Changbin, rolling them even though he’s still clutching your hand.

“I knew she'll call you, I just-” Hyunjin tries, but Changbin snorts in response.

“You're sneaky little-” Changbin begins but a nurse comes over and says that Hyunjin’s doctor has taken a look at his x-rays and wants to talk to him.

Changbin helps him into the wheelchair and you all move into the examination room where the doctor tells him that it's a sprain, and he'll have to rest his foot for sometime.

Once outside, Changbin tells him, “No more carrying your entire art studio down the stairs.”

“Hey, I didn't have anyone to help me!” Hyunjin says.

“I wonder who's fault it is!” Changbin shoots back, and Hyunjin pouts, crossing his arms against his chest, as you bite back a laugh.

You all sit at the waiting area, wondering what to do next. As you look at Hyunjin, all the messy feelings you’ve buried rush to the surface. You know it’s stupid, probably really reckless, but you can't help it. You love this man so damn much.

Hyunjin sniffles, studying the bandage on his foot before looking at you.

“Are you ok?” You ask, seeing how tired he looked.

“When I fell, I was so scared…I thought I would die…like my entire life flashed before my eyes. It was horrible,” he says. “And, all I felt was regret. I… I was an idiot. I should have fought for us.”

His words are definitely pulling at your heartstrings. Your eyes meet Changbin's, sitting on Hyunjin’s other side. He raises his eyebrows, knowing exactly where this is going. Before you can say anything, Hyunjin is leaning into you, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“I won’t survive a single day without you,” he whispers. “I mean, look at me. You left me, and here I am - falling down stairs, breaking bones-”

“It's a sprain, Hyunjin,” You remind him with a smile.

“But it feels broken. I feel broken…without you…”

“Jinnie-” You start, not knowing what exactly to say to him.

Your heart twists painfully. You don't know if this is a good idea, but that doesn't stop you from wanting him.

“Before you two start making out in front of me, I’m gonna go get some coffee,” Changbin's voice cuts in.

Hyunjin grins, cupping your cheek with his hand. He ignores Changbin completely, and says, “If you'll have me, I promise to never let you go. I promise I'll be good.”

And before you can stop yourself, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. He's pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, but you put a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back. You are still at the hospital, and people are starting to notice.

When Changbin returns, you both carefully put Hyunjin in the backseat. He grabs hold of your hand as you're about to shut the door, and wants you to sit with him.

He clings onto you the entire drive home, sneaking kisses - so many kisses. And also persuades you to spend the night at Changbin's, so you end up cuddling him to sleep.

And you sleep peacefully for the first time since your break up.

[natjennie]

that's so annoying :(

[feralgirlfeelings]

miguel o'hara breeding kink smut cause i'm ovulating rn

pairing: miguel o'hara x female reader

tags: established relationship, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, little bit of dumbification, little bit of orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex, female reader, afab anatomy, dom!miguel, oneshot

SO NSFW. minors dni!

spanish to english translations are at the bottom :)

word count: 992

he has you lying down with your ass up, pillow under your hips, and a firm grip on your hips. he whispers sweet nothings into your ear and about how much he wants to fuck you.

miguel slides his thick, hard cock in between your folds, soaking in your wetness, before lining himself up at your entrance. he slowly pushes into your tight cunt.

"fuuuck, i missed this," miguel groans, holding back the urge to plunge deep inside you. you bury your face into the sheets as you feel the mild ache of being stretched out. he continues to slide in until he reaches the hilt, his tip pushing against your cervix.

he pauses to give you a moment to adjust to his girth. you feel so full, you can barely breathe. "go slow miguel, you're too big," you whine.

he chuckles, "lo estás haciendo muy bien, cariño." he starts to pump into you, straining to keep a slow pace. your heavy breaths and soft moans fill the room.

as he slowly thrusts his dick into your tight cunt, the previous sting of being stretched transforms into a throbbing pleasure.

you feel a coil start to form in your lower abdomen and your moans start to get louder, his gentle pace no longer being enough for you. "mm, fuck me harder, miguel," you plead.

"anything for you, my princesa." he tightens his grip on your hips as he drags his dick out until his tip is just slightly kissing your entrance. he then slams his hips against you, driving his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your stomach.

you weren't prepared for the sheer power that this man is fucking you with. he thrusts into you at a dizzying pace and you can barely choke out his name.

"te sientes tan bien." he slaps your ass, delivering a sharp sting that makes you inhale sharply, "fuck you're so tight." he grabs your asscheek, groaning at the site of himself sliding in and out of you.

you moan in response, barely comprehending what he was saying. you were so fucked out of your mind and could only focus on the orgasm that you were so close to having.

just as you feel yourself almost reach your peak, miguel pulls out, leaving you empty. your poor walls clench around nothing. "miguel!" you whine in protest, "put it back in!"

he grabs your hips and flips you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. "i want to see your pretty face when you cum." he separates your folds with his cock, rubbing against your sensitive clit. you wrap your arms and legs around him and he buries his head into the crook of your neck, before plugging you back up again.

all you can do is mumble his name over and over again as he continuously rams into you. every pump delivering mind-numbing pleasure. the orgasm you were robbed of had crept back, and once again you felt a tightness in your stomach.

"i'm gonna fill you up, fuck a baby into you," he groaned in between the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your soft flesh.

his words drive you crazy. the thought of being stuffed full of miguel's hot, thick cum brought you closer to the edge. he knows you're close, so he pounds into you faster and harder, chasing your release.

pressure builds until you feel the tension wound in your stomach burst. you cry out his name as your walls contract and you cream around his cock. he groans at the feeling of the added slick and your pussy squeezing around his dick.

he doesn't stop after you come down from your high. "you did so good, mami," he whispers in your ear, "ahora es mi turno." he holds you in place by your hips and fucks his dick into you, driven by a primal desire to fill you with his seed.

you're overstimulated and fucked out, your body limp and your eyes rolled back. all you could think about was how badly you wanted to be bred by miguel. "m-miguel," you stutter, "breed me. p-please."

"te voy a llenar con mi semen, te voy a follar hasta que estés embarazada. you're gonna make such a pretty mommy. f-fuck—" his thrusts get more erratic as he inches closer to his peak. he groans out your name before slamming your hips down onto his dick. he shutters as he releases thick ropes of cum into your desperate cunt, flooding your velvety walls. all you manage to do is let out some strained moans. nothing mattered more in that moment than you taking his seed. he makes sure to stuff his cum deep inside you, his tip jamming the entrance to your fertile womb. he pauses for second to catch his breath, before slowly rolling his hips, just to make sure he gave you every last drop.

he stops thrusting and collapses on top of you, but keeps you plugged up with his dick. his excess seed starts to dribble out of you. you're both panting, sweaty, and exhausted. he moves the hair out of your face and meets your lips with his for a gentle kiss. "look what you do to me. me vuelves loco, cariño,"

you let out a weak giggle, "you want my babies?" you ask playfully. you tangle your fingers in his hair, lazily combing through his messy locks.

"yeah," he returns a chuckle, "you're too pretty to not breed." he starts peppering your face and neck with pecks. "eres mi bonita esposa."

"i think you'd make a great father," you smile warmly and interlock your fingers with his. "you know...usually it takes a few tries before it takes."

"oh?" he asks amusingly, "well, i guess i'll have to fill you up again."

you feel his dick start to harden again inside of you. you brace yourself for another round.

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

translations: ("lo estás haciendo muy bien, cariño" -> "you're doing so good, sweetheart") ("te sientes tan bien" -> "you feel so good") ("ahora es mi turno" -> "it's my turn now") ("te voy a llenar con mi semen, te voy a follar hasta que estés embarazada" -> "i'm gonna fill you up with my cum, fuck you till you're pregnant") ("me vuelves loco, cariño" -> "you drive me crazy, sweetheart") ("eres mi bonita esposa" -> you're my pretty wife")

hope you enjoy!!! >:0 btw this is my first time writing a fic that included dialogue in spanish, so idk if things are all well-written or gramatically correct. i tried to take some tips from spanish-speaking miguel o'hara enjoyers, but if anyone wants to correct anything or give me tips, i'm super super open to it!

[bookishdreamer28]

This man and his damn sexy voice was all I could think about, so hope you'll enjoy this one <33

"Where were you all this time?!"Sylus appeared in front of you in an instant once you walked in home, looking extremely worried. And to be honest, you couldn't blame him. His life was full of dangerous things and before he met you, it was easy to deal with them. No fear to eat him alive every day, no endless text messages just to make sure that you were ok, no sleepless nights just to make sure that you will always lay right in his arms.

But even though he knew how dangerous things were, a selfish side of him made him see just how calm and perfect everything seemed when you were around.

"Hello to you too"

"Y/N I swear-"

"Stop stressing over nothing. Everything's fine. I'm here now as you can see." You laughed lightly and gently touched the side of his face, caressing it. Sylus exhaled a long breath at the warmth he suddenly felt on his cheek, and his heart. You were unharmed. You are ok. No need to worry.

He turned his head away from your touch and you felt a bit taken aback.

"Love I-"

"You know, at least a message would have made me a little less paranoid" There he was. The grumpy but caring man you so adoringly love.

"Next time I'll consider doing this first"

"Next time?!! Oh no there won't be next time. If it necessary I'll glue myself on your side just to make sure that no one will harm you." He followed closely behind you as you walked in your room. You sat on the bed and started taking off your shoes but Sylus kneeled right in front of you to it himself.

"Let me take care of you sweetie" Ah this nickname. Never getting old when you hear it coming from him. His voice has been making you feel things since day 1.

You stared at his face as you noticed that he still had his eyebrows furrowed. Like he was still pissed about something.

"Sylus, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that- you're driving me crazy" He was face to face with you now, an angry look on his face. His thump brushed your lower lip gently and you felt the heat rising.

"You're driving me so crazy, that there are times were I hate it" he leaned in to tease your lips with a small peck "and other's I want to do nothing more but kiss you for hours" and that's what he did next. He collided his lips with yours, all the tension running through your bodies wild.

"These lips of yours" he said in between the kisses "will always have me on my knees for a taste".

His hands went slowly down to your waist, as he picked you up in his arms so he can sit down on the bed and let you rest on his lap. The kisses did not stop for hours but once you eventually stopped, Sylus made sure to take care of you just like he promised. You ate your dinner, prepared the bed and once you laid your head on his chest and his arms engulfed you in a sweet hug, he felt happy. Happy cause you are here. With him.

"What's in your mind sweet girl?" His voice soft. His hand rubbed soft circles on your arm and you looked up at him.

"Nothing I just...I love you. So much" you nuzzled your head in the crook of his neck. If only you could see his face right now. These three words leaving your mouth always made him weak. So damn weak, that the thought of having someone like you loving him, felt like a dream to him. A dream that he afraid that it was going to stop amd then wake up back to the harsh reality. But he wouldn't let anyone or anything take you from him. The reason of his happiness.

He stared down at you, with so much love in his eyes as he replied:

"I love you" His softly grabbed your chin, bringing you closer to his face so he can seal his lips with yours into another feverishly kiss.

[tsuutarr]

With a dazzling burst of light, your summoning circle flickers as a figure begins to materialize with a golden glow. Soon, bright violet eyes meet yours.

“Are you my new witch?” the voice gasps, eyes sunny and smile toothy.

You give him an affirmative, which makes the light spirit seem to glow even brighter.

“Oh! I’m so excited!” he beams, bursting with sunlight and energy. He grabs your hands in his, warming up your skin. “I’ll be the best familiar ever, promise!”

And he is a rather good familiar, doing everything you instruct without much protest or error. His upbeat attitude is really pleasant to be around, too.

The only catch is that he changes at night. When the sun goes down, basking him with moonlight instead of sunlight, his skin turns from gold and sunkissed to silver and moonkissed. 

“Did he not tell you?” your new moonkissed familiar asks, referring to his sunny counterpart. “What a loser...” He eyes you up and down, before letting out a small huff. “I guess you’ll do fine.”

Your moonkissed familiar is… more terse and sharp edged, his lips in a perpetual scowl. However, it’s evident that he doesn’t really mind being yours – not with how he follows you around, helping you with the little things. And when you curl up at night to go to bed, he’s a comfortable pillow that lets you cuddle him close.

“It’s not fair,” your sunkissed companion complains when you awake with the sun. “He gets to cuddle you? I wanna hold you too!”

It’s really not your fault, but your sunkissed companion is too much like a puppy to take too seriously. So, instead, you allow him to hug you more, his hands clinging to you whenever they can.

“You’re just lettin’ him touch you whenever?” your moonkissed companion asks when the moon is in its zenith. You give a curious look, which makes him scowl, his gaze flickering away. “I’m just sayin’ okay? It’s not ‘cause I’m jealous or something.”

Oh, so he’s jealous. Now that you think about it, you’re pretty sure your sunkissed companion was jealous, too.

You’re really not sure what to make of this revelation, though. The last thing you expected was to be stuck in a love triangle between your… familiar? Familiars? They’re technically the same familiar, but they’re also not, which is kind of complicated.

Well… it’s nothing to worry about, probably.

But oh, how wrong you are. As the days pass, that much is obvious.

“You like me better, right?” your sunkissed familiar asks, suffocating you with his warmth. He’s gotten clingier and clingier, smothering you with his presence.

“There’s no way you like that dolt better,” your moonkissed familiar states, constantly hovering over you with his chill. You don’t know if he’s aware of it or not, but you’ve been getting less and less sleep with him around.

Nowadays, they’re just… always around you. Day and night. There’s no escape, no room to breathe. They’re always there somehow, always watching.

It’s driving you crazy. Maybe it is something to worry about. Maybe it’s for the best if you cancel the familiar contract.

“What?” your sunkissed familiar asks, eyes wide. “Oh, no, no. Darling witch, why would you say that?”

As you feel him burn hotter, you quickly realize that bringing up the idea to him was a mistake.

After all, light spirits are notoriously powerful and you’re just a newbie witch. There’s no way you can control him unless he offers that control to you – you should’ve realized that.

And, well, from the look in his eyes, it looks like he’s done letting you take charge.

“You’re our witch, darling. For as long as the light shines.”

[hoshifighting]

Is he out of his mind or smth 😃😃?? I desperately need u to do something about these pics cause I'm going insane 🥰

ohhh voyeurism + blowjob addiction with soonyoung.

a/n: this man is going to fucking make me go crazyyyyy.

WARNINGS: voyeurism, blowjob, 'sex tape', public sex, him recording his face instead of you sucking him + you saving the video for yourself so you can watch alone later.

you never thought you’d be the kind of person to get off on the thrill of almost getting caught, but with soonyoung, it’s like you can’t help yourself. maybe it’s the way he looks at you when you’re out in public, eyes dark with want, that little smirk playing on his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. or maybe it’s the way he whispers in your ear, voice low and teasing, “baby, how about right here?” and suddenly, you’re down on your knees in the most unexpected places.

you’ve blown him in some crazy spots—on a boat, the gentle rocking of the waves barely enough to mask the sound of your gagging; on a balcony, the open air making it all feel so much more daring; even in the bathroom of some fancy party, your dress hitched up, knees on cold tile, just minutes before you were expected back in the crowd, looking prim and proper like you hadn’t just had soonyoung’s cock down your throat.

“you’re so fucking good at this,” he groans, fingers tangled in your hair as you bob your head, taking him deeper. his voice is wrecked, and it sends a shiver down your spine. you know he loves it when you go all out, sucking him like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted to do, and honestly, with how he’s moaning your name, it feels like that might be true.

but it’s not just the thrill of doing it anywhere, anytime. it’s the way soonyoung loves to keep little mementos of your escapades. he’s got videos saved on a secret drive, clips of you on your knees, eyes watering as you take him all the way down, or that one time on the balcony where you had to cover your mouth with your hand because you were getting too loud. you don’t mind though—you like knowing that when he’s alone, he’s probably watching those videos, getting off to the sight of you looking up at him with that needy look in your eyes.

today it was just supposed to be a quick, dirty escape—soonyoung had suggested the gym because it was empty, and it was a place you could indulge your cravings without getting caught. the big mirror in front of you was the perfect backdrop, catching every little detail of your performance.

you’d barely had time to get him fully hard before you were on your knees, the sound of his low groans and your own soft gagging filling the room. you loved the way he watched you, his eyes dark and hungry, but tonight, he was more focused on his phone. he was filming. he was so lost in the moment that he didn’t even realize the camera had shifted angles. he was too busy watching himself in the mirror, getting off on how his own face contorted with pleasure. the video later was almost comical—his face blissed out, mouth open, eyes shut tight, and in the background, the soft sound of your gagging and his heavy breathing. there you were, but it was his face that was the real star of the show.

when you showed him the video later, you couldn’t help but laugh. “so this is what you’ve been watching?” you teased.

he grinned sheepishly, his cheeks flushing a little.

you smirked, leaning in close. “well, now this video is for me,” you whispered, pressing a finger against the screen where his face was still contorted in pleasure. “i can already imagine how hot it’s gonna be to watch this and touch myself. seeing you like that, it’s gonna drive me insane when you travel.”

his eyes widened, and he bit his lip, clearly turned on by the thought. “fuck, I didn’t realize you’d like it so much....”

[farshootergotme]

I get emotional thinking about how his family would react to Bruce's change if he ever started working on himself, on improving his behavior. But the one I think about the most is Dick Grayson.

Alfred is the one who was there from the very beginning, but Dick Grayson is who arrived and made the biggest impact. He's the first kid who Bruce took in, the one who approached this man and became his first partner to fight by his side out in the night.

Dick was able to pull Bruce out of the darkness that consumed him. No matter how many times Bruce went back, Dick's presence was a constant reminder that there's not only shadows. That if Bruce pushes back, fights so he won't be dragged down, he will find light.

However, it was a cycle. Dick would get him out, but Bruce would go back, sooner or later. And repeat. And Dick realized this and knew he couldn't let that be his whole life. But despite the distance, it still affects Dick knowing he can't find a definite solution for Bruce.

So, seeing Bruce actually change, get better and seeing that last...it would lift the heaviest weight on Dick's shoulders, who's felt responsible for Bruce's emotions since the day he became Robin.

It's been implied to him that Bruce needs him, that he's who keeps him from falling. And Dick, despite not always feeling like he is enough, carries with that responsibility because, deep down, he also feels like he owes it to Bruce, who Dick has needed (still needs) present in his life, too.

Bruce getting better would be like being able to breath again, but it would be so suffocating too.

Dick would happy for Bruce, for the man who raised him. He'd be relieved that the hurt will stop, for both his father and those he's continuously pushed away. But then he'll be anxious, will it really last? How long until he can be sure? And he'll be scared, does he still need him, now? Does a Batman who's gotten help still need Dick Grayson Robin? Nightwing? And lurking in the back of his mind, there'd be anger. Why now? Why after all those years? Why not before? Was Dick not enough reason to change? Was he never worth this? And shame will drown those thoughts. It's selfish, to think that way. He should be happy. He wants to be happy. He is happy. But he is also mad. He's sad and he mourns the child who never saw this side of Bruce. And most of all, he loves. He loves Bruce too much to hate him for it. No matter how angry, no matter how hurt, he loves his father and he's grateful for him, for his efforts. And all he can do is smile and congratulate him because that's everything he feels he has the right to say.

And when all is said and done, Bruce will come to him and Dick will have to face the worst part of this change;

Apologies.

If Bruce has truly changed, then he would know there's more things than he can count with his fingers that he has to apologize to his son for. And out of everything else, this is what Dick Grayson fears the most.

Dick can take it, he can hear Bruce out, but he can't unpack all the pain he's been accumulating in front of his dad. He can't bring himself to say 'I forgive you' out loud despite having convinced himself long ago that it's alright.

Bruce doesn't didn't do apologies. Things happened and then went back to normal and Dick was okay with that. He forgave him, he did. So, Bruce doesn't need to apologize, he doesn't have to make him say it out loud. He can't tell him, but he's forgiven him long ago. Even if it hurt, even if he was still resentful sometimes, even if he wanted to yell at him for it, Dick could push it all down and forgive him. Bruce shouldn't apologize, shouldn't bring it up again because Dick isn't strong enough to keep it all bottled up if Bruce starts acknowledging it, if he confirms that Dick wasn't crazy for feeling wronged and hurt.

He can take it, but he really can't.

Just thinking about it drives me crazy because, out of everyone, Dick Grayson might be the kid who's been waiting for this the longest, and who thought he'd already given up the idea of his father finding a lasting happiness that would bring permanent change in him. And it would be just so overwhelming.

[reveluving]

SHY WIFE AND PRICE....ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDING ME!!!!!Imagine this Adonis of a man spoiling her from the first date and even her being shy, the 141(plus Kate) KNOW who's the boss( he ALWAYS have a photo and a story about Mrs.Price and it's just the cutest thing how his eyes light up that they also love her)

CUUUUUUTE AAAAAA!! GNAWING ON MY BARS RN!! And thank you for specifying the Adonis of a man bit! Can't forget about that!! ☝🏼😌💗

Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

In any case of our beloved shy!wife fics, especially with his line of work, just expect your husband to have a polaroid or five of you ready.

And John is no different.

You must be a special one if you managed to catch the eyes of the captain, and to clarify, you are!

John knew there was no going back to his mundane yet chaotic lifestyle the second he asked you out. It took everything in him not to chuckle at your look of disbelief, your lips parting just a tad bit. He didn’t want you to think he was making fun of you, you were genuinely adorable with your expressiveness. And though had told him you were open to anything, even specifying that you wouldn’t mind anything small and simple, he didn’t let you.

He took you out to dinner on your first date, nothing too fancy, though that couldn’t be said the same on the later dates, gifted you a small but beautiful bouquet and the rest was history. 

And amazingly, he gets even better at spoiling you after he puts a ring on your finger. As if he wasn't already good since your first date!

Kisses or cakes, hugs or huge bouquets, he'll always find a way to spoil you. Because you—your smiles, giggles and laughs, your time and your love for him means so much.

More than you can imagine.

A sweetheart, a gentleman. You couldn’t ask for a better man to fall for you, though, like him, you were mind-blown to even think a man, no, a hunk like him showed interest in you. Made you feel wanted, special—someone he wanted to be with with zero hesitation. 

He wouldn’t be able to forget your shy smile, how you’d mindlessly trail your fingers across the table or your lap out of embarrassment, how your fingers curled around his hand, despite averting your gaze from his cheeky smile many dates later.

And though the wedding was small, to him, it felt like a sweet fairytale.

To finally be able to call you Mrs Price.

Laswell had the privilege to meet you first before everyone else. She enjoys the sisterly moments you’d have, a breath of fresh air from the craziness, to say the least, that she has to witness in her lifetime. Always appreciates you checking in on her via messages or if she’s lucky, a quick call. And it becomes a tradition of hers to jokingly remind John to take care of you and not to drive you crazy.

And then, there were the boys.

Johnny was the one who asked about you, catching the man looking at one of the polaroids of you with nothing but love in his eyes. Longing to get it over with and come home to you. Johnny didn’t think he’d be willing to talk about you at all, let alone more than a few sentences, i.e. privacy reasons or he just prefers to be on his own. Take in the quiet moment before any hell breaks loose later on.

Understandable, so imagine not only his surprise but also the rest of the 141 when he talks about you. First, with pure endearment in his tone, then the story gets romantic, cheesier even, but all three of them listened to his stories like no other (read: a father telling his kids how he met their mother), even if they acted like they were just casually fixing their weapons or thinking to themselves.

C’mon, he knows them!

Like John, you treat the boys like your very own. If Johnny, Kyle or Simon wanted to be doted over—to be cared for, something they haven’t felt in a while even if some of them wouldn’t want to admit it, then you’d give them millions! Even something as little as a handwritten message or passing them a few words i.e. take care and good luck via John.

Visiting the Price’s house now feels like a family thing. Again, it’s cheesy, it’s corny, and maybe even childish to some, for a bunch of men to be looking forward to these visits like a child being away from their parents at a dorm during college, none of you cared. Not you. Not John. And most importantly, not his boys.

None of them could have imagined your words to stick in their minds in dire times. A little motivation to return safely. Back to the base, for John, and back the Price’s home, for you.

“Johnny, I’m out of a few things in the kitchen. Could you drop by the store and get these for me, please?” “Can do!”

“Simon, have you seen John’s car keys? I can’t find them anywhere.” “I can help look for it w’you.”

“Kyle, I told you I can handle the fireplace.” “S’not that hard. Don’t worry!”

Home.

Bonus: A lil’ story I’m still working on with the COD men + dogs includes John with an American Akita. Similar to Phillip and Kai, John’s gigantic pupper tends to prefer listening to you to him.

His intolerance for certain people or animals drops in an instant the second he sees you, turning into a baby (your baby, might John add) but he also knows when duty calls. Ears tilting back and growling at a stranger who doesn’t know, or worse; ignores that you're taken.

And in John’s words: good boy.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[voxslays]

The night I lost you

Feauturing >>> Alastor x Reader; In which you find out your husband is a serial killer, but before you can act, it’s already too late.

Warnings: Gore, Murder, Alastor being a serial killer, Your throat being slit, Death!

A/N: Surprisingly no smut in this one! I steered more towards goretober, so yay…? I might write a part two. Who knows?

Part Two

You sat in bed, curled up while reading a classic of American Literature; Little Women. You were waiting for your husband, Alastor to get home since he was coming home late tonight. Soon enough you heard the creak, signaling the front door had been opened and a few moments later, you see Alastor walk into your shared bedroom. He didn't speak. Just walked in and got dressed, brushed his teeth, and ready for bed. He looked tired and stressed. When he lied down, his back was turned away from you. No words spoken. You tried to tap his shoulder to see if he was okay, but he just nudged it away with his shoulder. A heavy and tired sigh was heard from him. "Not now dear."  He finally spoke in a tired and slightly agitated tone.

You rolled over, hugging one of your pillows as you drifted off into sleep. After a long, tense moment, Alastor's body relaxed slightly. He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder, his usually vibrant eyes dimmed with exhaustion. You unconsciously move away from him. Alastor watches as you move away from him, curling up on the other side of the bed. He hesitates, then reaches out to touch your shoulder gently. He leaves his hand on your shoulder for a moment, his fingers softly tracing small circles on your skin. Then, with a sigh, he removes his hand and turns back around, facing the wall once more.

An hour passes in silence, the only sound being the soft rhythm of your breathing and occasional snore, and Alastor's sporadic sighs. Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point, his exhaustion and stress overwhelming him. ​​He sits up abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he mutters under his breath. He gets out of bed and begins pacing around the room, his movements jerky and agitated. You are woken from your slumber by his heavy footsteps. You slowly sit up and look at him, “What are you doing…?” You ask in a half-asleep, groggy voice. 

Alastor stops pacing and turns to face you, his eyes wild and frustrated. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He just stands there, staring at you with a mixture of anger and desperation. "I can't... I can't do this anymore." Alastor’s breaths grow heavier. “What do you mean?” You ask anxiously. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He sits down heavily on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "This, us, this life. I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending everything is okay." His voice is low and strained, with dark undertones you don't dare to question. “Wait, is something wrong between us!?” You ask, starting to panic. 

Alastor looks up, his expression unreadable. He hesitates before speaking. "No, no, it's not you. It's…” He pauses, “everything else. The pressure, the secrets, the constant lies. It's all just become too much. I feel like I'm drowning, and I can't breathe." His breath hitches. “What secrets?” You ask suspiciously, blissfully unaware of the supposed ‘secrets’ he had been hiding. Alastor sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. "There are so many secrets, so many things I'm not telling you. Things I can't tell you. It's tearing me apart. I feel like I'm living a double life, and it's driving me crazy." As soon as he confesses, your mind can only think of one thing; He must be cheating. “Are you cheating on me?” You ask quietly. 

Alastor’s head snaps up, his eyes wide with shock and horror at your accusation. "No! God no, I would never. I could never." He reaches out to grab your hands, holding them tightly. "You have to believe me, I'm not cheating on you." He says, reassuring you. Alastor hesitates for a short few moments, torn between the desire to unburden himself and the need to protect you. He bites his lip, deliberating before speaking. "Promise me you won't tell anyone. Promise me you'll keep this a secret, no matter what." His eyes search yours, pleading.

“I promise.” Your voice filled with hope. If Alastor wasn't cheating, what else could he have done? Nothing too bad. He was a sweetheart. Alastor takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not just a charming, charismatic man. I've done things... terrible things.” He says. You scoff. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” You say, your voice sugary sweet as you rub his back reassuringly. Alastor lets out a harsh, mirthless laugh. He turns to face you, taking your hands in his. He looks at you with such a deranged and daffy look in his eyes.  "It's that bad. It's worse. I've hurt people. I've killed people." Alastor starts to smile. A wide, psychotic smile. 

Your eyes widen in shock. You knew Alastor always had an eccentric personality—but this? You were expecting something minor, like tax fraud. You had never expected your charming husband to be a serial killer. You focus back into reality as he continues, his voice low and urgent. "It started as self-defense, then protection of others. But it spiraled out of control. The rush, the power... it became addictive." He squeezes your hands almost painfully. "I'm a monster, mon chéri.” Alastor says as if it's an accomplishment. 

“You- You’re the bayou butcher…?” Your breath hitches, praying your beloved husband will say it's all a joke, a sick twisted prank. You watch as Alastor searches your face, trying to gauge your reaction. “Yes.” He admits, laughing psychotically. He stands abruptly, moving away from you. His body is tense, ready to fight. "If you breathe a word of this, I'll have to..." Alastor slowly examines his knife in the moonlight.

“I know I did not marry a serial killer.” You laugh, still thinking this was some sick prank. After all, Alastor was always one for jokes…right…? There was no way.

He stares at you, his expression unreadable. He seems to be trying to decide whether you're joking or serious. "Mon amour, I'm not kidding. I've killed at least 50 people since I was 16. Et j'ai apprécié" His manic smile returns. Suddenly realization sinks in. Alastor is a killer. He isn’t joking. All of those innocent people who have gone missing over the past year…they were all Alastor—the man who you had called your husband for over three years. This was no good-natured chaff. This was all real. You pinch yourself to make sure this isn't a nightmare–but to your horror—it isn’t.

“You are a terrible person.” You say through gritted teeth. Alastor lets out a bitter laugh, "I fooled everyone.”  He looks at his knife, then at you, then puts the knife away. He sighs, rubbing his temples. "But I do love you, mon chéri. And that's why I'm going to have to get rid of you." He pulls out the knife again, his hand shaking slightly. "It's for the best." Alastor smiles wickedly. 

“What-? Wait Alastor! Please!” You beg as he brings the knife closer and pushes you into the soft mattress. He pauses, his hand trembling as he grips the knife tighter. "Mon ange...don't make this harder than it has to be. I don't want to hurt you." His eyes are filled with a conflicted, almost pained expression. "But I will if I have to." You know he’s lying. You know he will kill you, but you try to convince yourself otherwise. “You’re not serious.” You say, your voice quivering in fear. Alastor looks at you, his face contorted in a mix of anger and sadness. "I've never been more serious in my life.” It's too late. He has already decided your fate. “I'm sorry, darling. So sorry." He takes a step closer to you, the knife held out in front of him. "Close your eyes."

You decide it's too late to save him, so you might as well save yourself. You get up from the bed, and run past him, out the bedroom door. Alastor watches you run out of the room, a mix of confusion and anger on his face. "Darling come back! Don't be silly, mon chéri!" Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. He throws the knife across the room in frustration, before chasing after you. "Y/N, STOP!" You keep running, through the kitchen and study, all the way to the front door. Alastor bursts into the hallway just in time to see you disappearing around the corner. "Shit!" He sprints after you, his heavy footfalls echoing through the house. "Y/N, I'm warning you! Stop running before someone gets hurt!" He yells, his voice booming across the kitchen.

You quickly get the front door open, the cold of the fall breeze seeming to bite at your cheeks. Alastor rounds the corner and sees you stepping out the front door. "Y/N, NO!" He lunges forward, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you back into the house. He slams the door shut and locks it, trapping you both inside. He spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your arms tightly. "NO, Y/N! Listen to me!" His eyes are wild with a dangerous intensity. "I can't let you go. I won't." He leans in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. 

​Alastor pulls the knife from his pocket and holds it to your throat, his hand shaking slightly. "I'm sorry, ma chéri. But it has to be this way.”  He presses the blade harder against your throat, drawing a small bead of blood. “I have no other choice." You can sense the anger and malevolence in his voice. “Please Alastor!” Tears fill your eyes. His face contorts in pain, torn between his love for you and his twisted urges. "I'm so sorry, Darling.” His hand tightens around the hilt of the knife, his arm muscles flexing as he begins to pull it across your throat. "Forgive me…” You let out a scream as you choke on your own blood. Alastor watches, his face blank.

Your body goes limp in his arms, face wet with tears. Your neck, collarbone, and upper chest covered with blood. Alastor gently lowers your lifeless body to the ground. He kneels beside you, stroking your hair gently. "I'm so sorry, ma chéri. I never wanted to hurt you." He leans down and kisses your cold forehead, saying goodbye to your now lifeless corpse forever. 

Part Two

[sl33paholics]

Could you write smut of Alucard from Castlevania. Maybe light praise kink and telling the reader how well she's taking him. Definitely have Alucard eat her out and grinding against the mattress while giving head.

You taste incredible

Alucard x fem!reader

Warning(s): smut (eating out), kinks involved (praise kink)

"Just like that, my dear, you're taking me so well."

The long white blonde hair man would say. With a pillow that was placed under your hips, Alucard tilts your pelvis so your feet are resting comfortably on his shoulder blades. Alucard gently pushes up on your abdomen, helping himself expose the clitoris from underneath the clitoral hood. Your legs tighten around him as he lowers himself to kiss down your thigh and slowly inch your knees higher up to make sure the friction is right. Alucard works in silence for a while, then breaks into a grin when he hears you moan. His tongue traces the outer edge of your thighs, before finding your clit again and circling it. You gasp at the jolting sensation.

Alucard is gentle with everything he does. From when you first meet him. From when you first touch his bare skin as you walk around. From when you first kiss. The man's hands move smoothly and easily, as though they've done this before and he knows exactly what to do. The vampire prince wanted to award his princess for being an amazing woman with a fantastic body. Alucard wasn't very good at giving gifts, but he did want to make you happy. So he decided he could show you how much he loved you. Not just through a physical relationship, but by showing the love in your eyes every time you look at him.

You run one of your hands through his hair, feeling the silky strands against your palm. A small groan escapes your lips, and you feel yourself getting wetter with desire.

"Do you like that?" Alucard asks in between nips on your inner thigh, his intoxicating gaze looking up at you as he watched your face contort into a blissful expression, quickly nodding as he went back to work. "You're such a treasure, my love."

Your body tingles all over, goosebumps erupting all over your skin as you let out a low moan and Alucard squeezing your legs tighter, you cohuld feel his fingers work wonders on your swollen clit. Throwing your head back and letting out a loud groan, "You're doing so good, baby, I know you can pull through." You bite your lip when Alucard removes his finger from your clit, giving it gentle kisses. His breath is hot against your skin as he moves back to sucking on your clit, your moans turning louder as Alucard continues to massage your pussy. You writhe under him, "Who’s my beautiful girl?"

"M...m...me~" You moan and clutch onto the bedsheets as you watch Alucard continuing to work on you, his tongue flicking across the tip of your clit as he sucks gently. He doesn't miss a beat. It feels like you're losing your mind. Alucard was driving you crazy with pleasure. All you could think about were his fingertips moving inside of you, and the way he sucked your clit like he owned it, even when he knew it would get hard. It felt too good not to enjoy. You needed more. More stimulation. You needed him.

The rough movements you felt against yourself made you slowly come back to reality, your cloudy thoughts fading away until you realized your fiancé grinding against the bed, his eyes glazed with lust. It was only reasonable for him to pleasure himself while doing the same to his darling.

You squeal and try to sit up straight, pushing away his head, your pussy now drenched and a throbbing mess. You watched as Alucard's pupils dilate, he watches you with hungry eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenching, and the bulge in his boxers making you squirm. It looked like Alucard was ready to explode, but he couldn't restrain himself for any longer.

He moved in front of you, leaning down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as your hands caress his shoulders. This was it. This was it all you've been waiting for. You both finally had your moment after months of not being able to. "Mmh, Alucard, please… please…"

Alucard didn't even need to position yourself on the bed. Your pussy soaked and exposed, legs high up and bent, an exhausted expression on your face was all he needed.

"Take it for me, I know you can. I'm going to make sure everyone knows you're mine~"

[mncxbe]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭...

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: nsfw, age gap implied, subby men~ they cry a bit, overstimulation, wish that was me

Men who live for those few hours between work and sleep that they get to spend with you. Their job is awfully stressful– just problems after problems and incompetent underlings they need to deal with every day. There's too much responsibility, too much pressure and weight on their shoulders, but you're always there to take it away.

Men who don't even bother with pleasantries before loosening their tie and grumbling about how tiring work is. When they slump on the cushy mattress in your bedroom you're right beside them, helping them take off their clothes while you listen to them vent about their day. "Don't worry, dear, I got you" you reassure them in that soothing voice of yours and they can already feel their frustrations melting away.

Men who let you take the lead, willingly submitting to you because they're so tired of always having to be in charge and ordering people around. It's a nice change of pace– them laying limp between the crisp sheets while you rock your hips against theirs, their cock nestled deep inside your sweet cunt. In moments like these, they finally allow themselves to slip off the mask they're forced to wear every day and just be.

Men whose minds go blank when you praise them for their work. Just knowing that you appreciate and value what they do, that you acknowledge their worries makes the knot in the pit of their stomach thighten. It doesn't take long for them to grip your hips and squirm under your weight, their breath coming out quicker, shallower as gruff moans fall from their lips. When they cum their whole body tenses up, milky white seed spilling deep inside you. "You're so good for me tonight, darling. Think you can take more?" you ask and of course they can. They're good for you, always.

Men who lose all their composure after you coax a few more orgasms out of them. They can barely keep their gaze locked on yours from that sweet mixture of pleasure of pain making their head spin– it hurts, they feel like they can't physically take it anymore, but they don't have the heart to stop you. After all, this is their only escape from those straining jobs and duties and if relishing this sheer bliss meant being so vulnerable and completely at your mercy they'd gladly do it.

Men who don't bother to hide the pretty tears brimming at the corner of their eyes and choke on heavy sobs as you keep riding them. "Poor you..." you coo, brushing away the tears with your fingertips, your touch soft as silk against their rougher skin "You really needed this didn't you darling?" They nod eagerly, hissing sharply when you start bouncing on their cock again– they can feel each drag of your gummy walls against his cock and it's driving them crazy. Frankly, the fact that they're still hard after cumming so many times is a miracle, but you seem adamant to get another orgasm out of them. "Come on, you can do it just one more. Wanna make sure you really fill me up this time, ok?" you urge nonchalantly as if his lap wasn't already covered in sticky cum and slick.

Men who cry out praises and thank yous as they reach their high for the nth time that night, their back slightly arching off the bed before melting back into the mattress. They peer at you through droopy eyes, their grip on your thighs or waist loosening as you lay on their chest with their cock still sheathed inside you. Their heart flutters when you kiss their face oh so softly and lovingly, they feel so warm and welcomed in your embrace and swear they could fall asleep like this every night. But hey, they actually can and do, because you're always there for them, ready to soak them in your love.

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺: 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢, 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐞, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚, 𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠)

[elenaax]

jude with virgin reader first time

It had been six months since Jude and you started dating, and in that entire time, you never had sex. You’ve done everything else. Sleep together, kiss, touch each other, but you never took it any further than that. It wasn't because you didn’t want to, no way! You wanted him so much. He was always there for you. No matter what happened, he was there.

You and Jude were in the living room, watching your favorite show on Netflix. You were sitting in between his thighs, leaning your head on his shoulder. His hands were wrapped around your waist, his eyes not leaving the tv for a moment. You wanted to get his attention, but you didn’t know how. You were wearing a very sexy set of red lingerie underneath your dress, you were prepared for it. You were planning on it.

"Babe?" you asked just above a whisper, not looking at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the screen, “Yes darling?”. Oh, how you loved when he called you darling, it made your heart flutter every single time. "I have something I need to tell you," you whispered again, this time looking up at him. He looked down at you, the look in his eyes making you weak. They were soft, yet intense at the same time. “What is it babe? You can tell me anything.” He said, his hands now massaging your upper legs as a gesture of affection.

"I-I want you to make love to me.." You said, fiddling with the ends of your dress, breaking eye contact with him. You felt him tense up, "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “More than ever Jude”. You said, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, but you tried to play it off.

He turned you over so you were straddling his lap, your faces only inches apart. It felt so good being this close to him. Your breath hitched as he grabbed your ass, pulling you closer to him, your bodies basically being glued together. “Your wish is my command babe”, he said. He had a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out, lust maybe? "You'll be gentle with me, right?" you asked, biting your lip. He nodded, "I would never hurt you. You know that." He said.

He looked at you for a while, searching for any kind of discomfort before leaning in and kissing you harshly. You tried to keep up with him, your tongues fighting for dominance. His hands roaming all over your body before he broke the kiss to get rid of your dress. He couldn’t believe his eyes, the red lace bra you were wearing revealing itself, your nipples poking through the material. He ran his thumbs along them, sending sparks of electricity throughout your body.

You started to slowly grind your hips against his, the tension growing thicker with each second passing. You felt something poke on your inner thigh, you glanced down, it was Jude’s boner. You looked up at him with wide eyes, he was smirking at you. He took your hand and placed it on his hard one, that was caused by you. “Do you see the impact you have on me darling? You drive me crazy, you’re so fucking beautiful”, he said in a husky tone.

You had never felt more alive than in this moment. You were turned on like never before, your mind was clouded with lust. You leaned in and kissed him. “Take me upstairs”, you whispered against his lips. You didn't have to say anything twice, he picked you up and carried you upstairs.

He gently laid you on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He spread your legs and got in between them, hovering over you. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” He said. His hands running up and down your thighs, your heart pounding so loud you thought he could hear it too. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the ground, his eyes stuck on your bare breasts. "They're perfect. Just like you." he said, taking your left nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.

You let out a soft whimper, arching your back to give him better access. He switched to the right nipple, giving it equal attention. You took his head in your hands, bringing him eye to eye level with you. He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Gonna let me taste you pretty girl?” He said, taking off his shirt. You nodded at him, your eyes wandering off to his abs. “Use your words, darling.” He said sternly. “Y-yes.” You said, suddenly feeling shy about what you were about to do.

He gently took off your panties, throwing it on the ground. You closed your legs, trying to hide yourself from him. With his hand, he nudged your legs apart, “Relax for me, yeah?” he said. You took a deep breath and did as he said, lying there completely exposed in front of him.

He lowered his face towards your center, laying flat on the bed, putting your legs over his shoulders. “So fucking beautiful..” He whispered into your core, making you whimper out loud. He kissed your clit, flicking it with his tongue, sucking it in, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You had no control over the sounds you were making, "Oh God!" you cried out. "Please don't stop." He continued eating you out like a starved man, putting his middle finger into your wet entrance.

His finger kept pumping in and out of you, while his tongue worked wonders on your clit. You were a moaning mess. Jude added another finger, stretching you out. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the sensitive spots inside of you. You felt like you were about to explode, you closed your thighs around his head.

With his other hand, he forcefully pushed them open again. You tried pushing his head away, but he didn’t seem to be planning on letting go. "Stop fighting me, darling.” He whispered. Suddenly you felt a knot in your lower stomach, “J-Jude..” you whined out, not being able to form a coherent sentence. He knew you were not going to last much longer. His fingers were pounding in and out of you at a merciless pace, his tongue still working on your clit, the combination was too much to handle.

You came so hard, you screamed it out, your legs were shaking uncontrollably. Jude held you down, while still licking you, letting you ride out your orgasm. When you had finally calmed down, Jude crawled on top of you, showering you in kisses.

“You taste so fucking sweet." He whispered, kissing you again. You could taste yourself on his lips. You locked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You looked him deeply in the eyes, feeling like you were on cloud 9.

You took his face in your hand. “Fuck me.” You said, not sure of what had gotten into you. His eyes went big, he immediately got off the bed, pulling off his sweatpants and boxers. His cock sprung up, hitting his lower abdomen. You gasped when you saw his cock, wondering how on earth it was going to fit in.

“Jude, it won’t fit.” You said. “I’ll make it fit baby, dont worry. You trust me yeah?” he said looking into your eyes and getting on top of you again. “Yeah.” You said, nodding at him. He leaned forward, placing his arms on each side of your head, caging you in. “Ready?” He said, lining himself up with your entrance. You nodded, your heart beating out of your chest.

He collected your wetness by moving his cock up and down between your folds. He placed his hand on your hip, using it for leverage as he slowly entered you. You felt like the air was being knocked out of your lungs. It hurt so bad, tears prickled your eyes.

Jude kissed you softly, allowing you to moan into his mouth. He began to thrust into you slowly, but you were so tense, he couldn’t. You were so tight, so damn tight. He stopped, taking a deep breath, and kissing your forehead, "Let me in sweetheart. You gotta relax for me.” He said.

You took a deep breath, Jude wiped off the tears that had fallen down your face. You bit your lip and nodded, “Okay..” You said. He started moving in and out of you again, inch by inch, slowly, until you were used to it. You held onto his shoulders tightly, moaning incoherent words.

The pain slowly started to fade away, being replaced by pleasure. Jude was watching your facial expressions intently, wanting to make sure you were comfortable. “Judeeee, s-soo goodd.” You moaned. He started moving faster, harder, deeper. His heavy breathing turning you on even more. You had never felt anything better than this. Everything else seemed dull in comparison. This was pure ecstasy.

He hit your g-spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh my god, baby, baby, right there!” You screamed out. “Oh, yeah? Right here?” he said, while hitting the spot non stop. His hand sneaking in between your bodies to rub your clit. You threw your head back, gripping the sheets.

You cried it out as you came, your whole body trembling. Jude still thrusting his hips in and out of you, chasing his own high now. He groaned, before kissing you softly. "You okay?" He asked. You nodded. "Do you need a break, baby?" He asked, not wanting to hurt you any further. "No, please don't stop. I want you to finish. Please." You said, totally fucked out.

Jude’s thrusts were starting to get sloppy, his breathing getting heavier. He pulled out just in time and came on your stomach, grunting heavily. He collapsed on top of you, you ran your nails on his back, trying to calm him down.

“Baby, that was.. Amazing.” You said. He smiled, kissing your cheek, "That means a lot, especially considering how scared you were. Let's take a warm shower, shall we?” He asked, getting off the bed.

You nodded, and he helped you off the bed, walking to the bathroom. You were sore, and you knew tomorrow would be even worse, but it was all worth it. It was the best night of your life.

[jazz-berry]

eating you out

He grabs your hips in a firm grip, pulling you flush against his mouth as he licks a long stripe over the fabric of your panties. You let out a soft whiny moan and place your hands in his hair to keep yourself stable "My love…"

He can feel your fingers pulling on his hair as your voice calls out to him, and it drives him crazy.

“You taste so good, princess.” He grunts, his hot breaths fanning over your sensitive skin between the licks and kisses. “So good…”

you mewl and grind your hips, wanting your panties off to get direct contact with his mouth. “Fuck…” He whispers under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening before he slips his fingers beneath the hem of your panties. They’re immediately pushed down your thighs before he leans back in to taste you again. You swing your legs over his shoulders. “That’s my good girl.” he coos, his voice husky with arousal as he looks up at you through half-lidded eyes. You whimper and try to grind your hips for more friction. You love being praised so much

He lifts his gaze back down to your trembling body, taking you in. Your beautiful face, flushed from pleasure, your soft whimpers and moans. He takes in all these sights and sounds, engraving them into his memory as his tongue darts out to taste you again.

“You’re such a good girl… So, so pretty.”

you moan softly as his tongue caresses your folds. "Good boy" you praise back lovingly and gently run your fingers through his hair.

He moans against you, sending vibrations through your body as you praise him. “I’m your good boy…” He whispers with a reverent tone, the tip of his tongue flicking out to tease your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Always. My one and only" you promise.

His face softens and a look of sincere affection washes over him. There’s nothing more worth his pride than being yours. Nothing.

“Only yours… All yours…” He nuzzles against your thigh, kissing and nipping teasingly.

His tongue flicks out to lightly trace your folds again. you moan softly and continue mewling, rolling your hips against his face slightly. "Such a good boy" you continue praising

He feels his heart flutter with warmth at your praise, adoring how you make him feel. His mind, body and soul are so utterly dedicated to you that being your good boy is the only thing that matters.

“Just for you…” He whispers before his attention refocuses on giving you pleasure. You’re the only thing he’s fixated on. You start to gently tug on his soft hair as your eyes flutter closed. "I’m close" you mewl.

He presses his tongue flat against your clit, his hands reaching up to grasp the back of your thighs possessively as he licks over you fervently.

“Give it to me, darling...” He moans out. His voice is muffled by your skin but the tone is clear; he’s begging you to come. your moans and mewls become more whiny as your legs start trying to squirm away involuntarily from sensitivity. He holds you steadfast against him, his tongue working diligently to help you. He hums against your skin, giving you the extra stimulation you need to reach your peak.

As you cry his name out, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction. He laps up your release as though he’s desperate for your taste. Once you’ve come down from your orgasm, he lifts his head from between your legs and looks up at you reverently. He gazes at you through his eyelashes as a smile slowly spreads over his face.

“You’re divine…” He murmurs, the words almost a prayer. You breathe shakily, your body trembling as you finish. Your gaze shows complete adoration and love for the man below you. "Come here" you murmur and shakily slide your legs off his shoulders.

He rises to his feet, stepping closer to you at your command and wrapping you up in his strong arms. He places a soft, chaste kiss against your lips as he holds you close.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips. “So much… There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my darling.”

"I love you too" you whisper back, snuggling close to him as your sensitive body tries to recover from your climax. He carefully lifts you off the kitchen counter and starts carrying you to his room

“I’m not done with you yet…” He husks out, his eyes flickering down to look at you before he flashes a cocky smirk.

KIT WALKER • JIMMY DARLING • KYLE SPENCER • JAMES PATRICK MARCH • PETER MAXIMOFF • WARREN LIPKA • LORENZO BERKSHIRE • L LAWLIET + character of your choice

which character do you imagine in this scenario♡

masterlist

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@lemoniiiiiii @tiffysdeath @n0tonlin3 @marchsfreakshow @evanpeterswifeyyy @evvyyypeters-fics @icedheartss @vizjpmdose @tatelangdonsweater @vfromvandalista @lacucarachapisser @majestyjade @strawb3rrystar @violetsghosts @colinzabelswife @mooniehoneyrey @oceanblvd111 @dearlizzies @urmomsg1rlfreind @darlingmarch @miss-skinnybones @giuliiitzz00 @juliamaximoff @divinerulersslut @americanwh0rerstory @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @fear-is-truth

[leah-lover]

Drive to survive. Leah Williamson x F1!reader

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

You have always been a Ferrari girl. Ever since you were a kid, you loved everything that had to do with Ferrari. Your room was Ferrari themed, most of your birthdays were Ferrari themed, and your favorite race was Monza. Little did little you know that one day you would race in Monza but for Mercedes.

You remember a couple of years ago when Charles won at Monza. You remembered as you screamed the Italian national anthem as all the Ferrari team did.

5 years later, you were in the paddock at Monza after a crazy race calendar. You had hoped that you could sing the British national anthem this time around and do what many want you to do, which is win your first race.

As you go in your car, you taped on the number 6 in your helmet, a ritual you developed after the crash. It reminded you that you had people who rooted for you, people you loved and they loved you back. Leah couldn't come to this race this time around because she had a game a few hours before.

At the race lines you were at p3 which wasn't bad. Max Verstappen was p1 then lando norris then you and Hamilton in behind you. As the lights were red, images of the crash, the fire, the hospital, Leah’s worried face, all came rushing to your mind. You gripped your wheel as hardly as you could and breathed through your panic.

“ Calm down, please calm down “ you whispered to yourself.

You tried to breathe but it was all too much, the helmet was suffocating you, the car was suffocating you, you couldn't breathe, you froze. You were back there in the race again, helpless, almost dying.

Suddenly you remembered what happened in the morning.

“ Baby I wish I could be there.” Said Leah through facetime. She was in bed, with only a blanket covering her chest, she still had bed hair but she was all the more beautiful.

“ I wish I could be at your game. It's an important qualifier.” You responded.

“ Don't worry I will crush it and so will you. Maybe you will be on the podium. It's achievable with p3 or at least podium.”

“ I don't know. I still freeze, that crash still haunts me”

“ I know darling. You said I saved you that night right. Just remember me. Remember my face, remember that I love you and that I am so proud of you.”

“ I love you too baby.”

“ Leah.” You whispered to yourself as the lights turned green.

“ For Leah.” You whispered again as you advanced forward.

By turn one you overtook lando and took p2. You kept your focus and your position keeping a closer distance to max.

“ Box box.” Said your assistant.

As you entered the box it all came back to you again.

“ Fire, crash, max, die “ you whispered to yourself. You gripped your wheel again and breathed through your anxiety.

“ You know what you are doing this for mate you can do it.” Said your team principal through the radio. And that managed to pull you back again. You stepped on the pedal, focused, and determined to win.

It was only a matter of time for you to overtake max. P1 was your position with 10 minutes in the race. You pushed through, no thought in your head but the checkered flag.

“ It is here in Monza. The home of Ferrari, her favorite car. She won. She, the woman. Who walked out of fire only a few weeks ago. She escaped fire, she escaped death, she came back to f1 to win and she did. The first ever woman to win in Monza, the first ever woman to win in formula one. Congratulations to you.” said the commentator as you crossed the checkered flag.

Tears streamed down your face. You did it. You won despite your anxiety and PTSD.

“ Thank you. Thank you Toto. Thank you Mercedes for believing in me. We won, we did it. “ You said as you went through the cool down lap.

When you got out of the car you stood on top of it and with your fingers put the number six over your chest as fireworks went behind you. It was for Leah, this win is because of her. You then jumped to meet your team and celebrate with them.

Later you did an interview.

“ Congratulations on the win. We noticed you always have number 6 on your car, helmet, suit and when you won you did number 6 as a celebration. What does that mean?” Asked the reporter.

“ Well you know I was in a fiery crash a few weeks back and the love of my life, the woman of my dreams, helped me survive it. She was the reason I walked out of the fire, she is the reason I am alive and she is most definitely the reason I won today “

“ Can we know who she is?”

“ She is Arsenal's number 6 and England captain Leah Williamson.”

“ Congratulations on the win, and we, all the women, are thankful to Leah helping you get here.”

You then went to the podium, stood proudly as you sung the British national anthem, got a champagne shower and headed back to the garage.

Leah Williamson. My girl ❤️. Congratulations on a well deserved win. You went through a lot to be here. Proud of you.

[folkwhoredoll]

𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 - 𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

kinktober 2024 masterlist

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: smut

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The air is thick with the scent of saltwater and pine, the wind ruffling through the trees as the waves crash against the shore nearby. It’s late — well past midnight — and the only light comes from the moon and the dim glow of a lantern you left by the blanket. You and Rafe had slipped away from the beach party hours ago, finding a secluded spot at the edge of the forest, just beyond the sand dunes, hidden from view but close enough that the distant sound of music still drifts through the air.

It’s peaceful, or at least it was.

Rafe stands in front of you, his eyes locked on yours, dark with that familiar, dangerous glint. The kind of look that sends a shiver down your spine because you know what it means, he’s got something reckless in mind, something that’s going to leave you breathless and gasping for more.

His fingers brush against your wrist, the touch light, teasing, but there’s nothing gentle in the way he tugs you closer, his grip firm, possessive. “I can’t fucking wait any longer,” he mutters, his voice low, rough with need. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you against him, his lips hovering over yours. “I need you. Right now.”

You glance around, your pulse quickening at the thought of being out here, in the open. The soft sounds of laughter and distant voices from the party are faint, but close enough that someone could stumble upon you at any moment. “Rafe, we’re not exactly hidden,” you whisper, your voice shaky with both excitement and nerves.

He grins, that dangerous smirk you know all too well, the one that says he doesn’t care. “Good.”

Before you can protest, his lips crash into yours, silencing any argument you might’ve had. The kiss is hard, desperate, all teeth and tongue, and you melt into it, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Rafe’s body presses into yours, backing you up against the rough bark of a tree, the sharpness of it biting into your skin, but the sensation only heightens the thrill.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands already working their way under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist. “You knew what you were doing, didn’t you? Wearing that little outfit like you didn’t know I’d lose my mind.”

You can barely breathe, the heat of his touch mixing with the adrenaline coursing through you. “I didn’t think—”

Rafe cuts you off with a growl, his lips moving to your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. “Yeah, you did,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust. His hands slide lower, gripping your hips as he presses his body against yours, the hard length of him obvious through his jeans. “And now I’m going to make you pay for it.”

The heat between you is overwhelming, and your heart races as he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping the waistband of your shorts. You glance around again, the thrill of being out here, so exposed, sending a fresh wave of excitement through you.

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as he tugs your shorts down your legs. “What if someone sees?”

He looks up at you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “Then they’ll get a fucking show.”

Your breath hitches as his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you. The first swipe of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasp, your back arching against the tree as he works you over with slow, deliberate strokes.

It’s too much. The sensation of his mouth on you, the rough bark against your skin, the open air and the constant, lingering threat of being caught — it’s all overwhelming, intoxicating, and you can barely think straight as Rafe’s tongue flicks over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You glance toward the beach, your heart pounding in your chest as you imagine someone walking past, seeing you like this, your hands gripping the bark of the tree, your legs trembling as Rafe devours you like he can’t get enough. It’s reckless, dangerous, and it drives you wild.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you breathe, your hands tangling in his hair as he sucks hard on your clit, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you in place. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with desire. “Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he growls, his voice low, dangerous. “You love the idea of someone seeing you like this.”

You do, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it. The risk of it, the thrill — it makes your pulse race, your body react in ways you can’t control. And Rafe knows it. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you fall apart, and you’re powerless to stop him.

“Tell me you want it,” he demands, his voice rough as he stands, his hands gripping your waist as he lifts you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist. His hard length presses against your core, and the friction sends another wave of pleasure through you. “Tell me you want me to fuck you right here.”

You hesitate, glancing toward the beach again, the distant sounds of the party still drifting through the air. But the heat in Rafe’s eyes, the feel of him pressed against you, the way your body aches for more. It’s too much.

“I want it,” you whisper, your voice shaky, breathless. “I want you, Rafe.”

That’s all he needs.

With one swift motion, he frees himself from his jeans, his cock hard and ready, and in an instant, he’s inside you, filling you completely. You gasp, your head falling back against the tree as the overwhelming sensation of him stretching you has your entire body trembling.

“Fuck,” Rafe growls, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move, his pace hard and fast, no patience, no hesitation. He’s like a man possessed, every thrust driving you harder against the tree, the sound of your bodies colliding mixing with the distant crash of the waves.

The angle has him hitting deeper, harder, and the pleasure is almost unbearable. Every nerve in your body is on fire, and the constant, thrilling fear of being seen only heightens it. Your fingers claw at his back, pulling him closer, desperate for more, as he takes you with reckless abandon.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice rough, his breath hot against your neck. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”

You can barely think, your body reacting to every thrust, every word, the pressure building inside you to a fever pitch. The cool night air against your heated skin, the rough bark against your back, the sensation of Rafe fucking you like he owns you;

And then you hear it.

A voice. Someone calling out, laughing, getting closer.

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat as you realize someone’s coming. But instead of stopping, instead of pulling away, Rafe only thrusts harder, faster, his hand clamping over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Don’t make a sound,” he mutters, his voice low, dangerous. “I want you to come for me, but don’t make a fucking sound.”

You can’t help it. The thrill of being caught, the overwhelming pleasure; it all crashes together as your orgasm rips through you, your entire body shaking as Rafe fucks you through it, his hand still over your mouth, his pace relentless.

By the time it’s over, the voices have passed, and you’re left trembling in his arms, breathless, spent. Rafe pulls out, his breath ragged as he presses a soft kiss to your neck.

“Good girl,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips as he helps you adjust your clothes. “Told you no one would see.”

[lovemouche]

lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line. 

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you. 

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No. 

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself. 

Love, the most twisted curse of all. 

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you. 

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?" 

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch. 

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement. 

"Talk to me," he encourages. 

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet. 

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more. 

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless. 

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms. 

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words. 

"Should I pull out?" 

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now." 

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers. 

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath. 

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation. 

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry. 

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore. 

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything. 

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself. 

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry." 

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o���oh—okay?" 

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment. 

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be. 

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace. 

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless. 

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking. 

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul. 

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged. 

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you. 

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet. 

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality. 

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours. 

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread. 

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?" 

He falls apart. 

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is. 

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says. 

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me." 

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't." 

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?" 

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy." 

Your eyebrows pinch. 

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying." 

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim. 

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away. 

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry." 

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage. 

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger. 

Even worse, a mistake. 

"Please?" 

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is. 

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery. 

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?" 

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though. 

"Tell me, please." 

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you." 

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection. 

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process, 

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you. 

It's as simple as that, really. 

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you." 

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away." 

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda. 

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you. 

You groan. "this is not the time." 

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say." 

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?" 

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment. 

It's all still so surreal. 

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing. 

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters. 

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex. 

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."