#you goddamn darling man

[wordthieve]

This is going to sound weird, but ... I'm so fucking proud of Buck and Eddie.

First of all, look at Buck not assuming the worst and asking for more information, gently confronting Eddie but giving him space. And yes, Eddie instinctively and immediately shakes his head and tries to pretend the conversation isn't happening, but then Buck won't let it go, and he won't let it turn into an argument, either. And then Buck says: "I'm worried about you."

Buckles, you absolute sweetheart of a human. He lays it out clearly and simply: I care. I'm worried. Imagine having a friend who will hold that space and make you face it but will not condemn you for it, because they are worried, and they love you.

And then Eddie, instead of denying it, instead of "leave it" or "I've moved on" or any of that, admits "I'm worried about me too." Like, fuck.

And THEN Eddie comes clean to Kim! That's HUGE! From Mr I Will Carry This To My Cold Dead Grave sits her down and admits everything, and apologises for all the right things. It was a shitty thing to do to someone, and she is entitled to recall him as that crazy guy she kind of dated who thought she was his dead wife. But he wore what he could of it and he sat there and accepted that he had caused her pain and that he could not fix it.

And FUCKING THEN, (when I can only hope Kim is wearing a really great wig instead of getting her hair cut) he LETS HIMSELF BE ANGRY WITH SHANNON. The fact that instead of being full of guilt and apologies, he stands there and says "Where was my letter?"

Eddie, my beloved hot mess, bravo. I am plotzing over how much progress is behind him asking "where was my letter?" Instead of the crushing self-recrimination (while also acknowledging his faults), he is letting himself say "what about me?" and "I deserve that". How long has he been struggling to find it in him to offer himself any grace, any semblance of sympathy and empathy? How long has he thought himself unworthy of love, or at least any more of it than he got from the stunted and strangled example of his and Shannon's relationship? How many years of living for other people, of shoving down what he wants, of punishing himself for everything that happened, everything that he survived, everything that he lost, and he stands there in this ridiculous, absurd, painful situation and says "Where was my letter?" That, my friends, is how you do THERAPY.

Yeah, there's a bunch of other stuff he's still dealing with, and my heart just WEPT at "I'm broken", but oh, honey, this is a STEP.

[whaliiwatching]

pillow that loves you

[blujayonthewing]

opening the group chat for the first time today and there's like 200 new messages because everyone's Going Through It today it seems but one of my friends dropped 'I'm separating from [terrible boyfriend she's been living with for like eight years] for real this time, I just moved a bunch of stuff to my parents' and I'm losing my mind because y'all the subject changed almost immediately HEY HI EVERYBODY ELSE SHUT THE FUCK UP I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THAT???

[deathbecomesnerds]

My friends and I were at Cheesecake Factory tonight, and we got on the topic of Control, and how my friend is planning on replaying it in the new year since she is retiring at the end of this month.

My best friend brought up my love for Dr. Darling.

Me: I WOULD FUCK DR. DARLING!

My friends: Oh, god, no!

Me: I would fuck Dr. Darling so hard!

My friends: Oh god! Please! Stop!

Me: I would fuck him so hard, that they'd have to make a whole new wing in the Research Sector!!

Bestie: Liz, please, we're in public!!!

[tojisun]

im still high on dadbod simon so uhm thinking about someone at a bar hitting on you because they don’t know that the old man you’re out with is not a guardian nor a friend, but is your goddamn date. and while it doesn’t send simon down a spiral of insecurities, he still starts hovering even closer. he’s always pulling you to his lap, doesn’t matter who the company is. his friends quickly get used to the sight—how could they not? you’re a darling, and you look the prettiest dolled up on simon’s hold.

and when he’s fucking you, when he’s got you bearing all his weight while he fucks you on your knees, he uses the incident as dirty talk.

“remember ‘im, love?” simon croons, his voice almost drowned by the resonating sounds of skin slapping against skin. “he thought i’m not y’r daddy. thought y’re too good f’me.”

you keen underneath him, your body toppling to the mattress when your arms fall limp. simon easily follows, adjusting so that the jut of his gut sits atop your ass, and it should be a crime how this position wedges him even further in because he’s pressing against tender places, his cockhead nudging at something that almost makes it feel like he’s hitting the back of your throat.

“shh,” simon rumbles. “daddy’s got you, sweet’art. daddy’s got you.”

[thecherrygod]

i love meeting weirdos and freaks on my phone bc i feel i cant be like that with people i meet irl. i have a friend and sometimes we send eachother shit and hes like "this is weird/fucked up/dark humor" kinda thing and like... for the first two its never like that but like whatever we dont know eachother enough to know the limits, and the dark humor isnt exactly funny imo.

idk how to tell this guy, that ive met in class, that im just a kinda horny dumbass and that my sense of humor relates to that. like babygirl id send you that blowjob ninja post i rbed not too long ago but yet again whats the fucking limit

[reidsfilm]

LIKE A GODDAMN PRAYER — LOGAN HOWLETT

WARNINGS: SMUT!!! (18+) age-gap (the reader is over 18+) p in v (wrap it up peeps) dirty talk, soft dom! logan, has no plot whatsoever, just straight-up filth petnames: baby, sweetheart, angel, darling, etc. fluff at the end. a tad bit of degarding.

WORD COUNT : 2k

Notes: i'm just now realizing how hot hugh jackman is.

Logan Howlett who swore he wouldn't stain a beautiful thing like you. With your sweet smiles, wide eyes, and flushed apple cheeks. He wouldn't, but the allure of you was too tempting.

And a visit to give him a basket of cookies led to something that couldn't be erased. But now, he wasn't sure if he wanted it removed at all.

Here you were, laying sprawled out underneath him, clothes strewn in piles on the floor, only a pair of white lacy panties covering your sweet pussy. God, it made his boxers feel all the tighter like they were suffocating him, literally and figuratively.

''Look at you... so pretty for me, huh?'' He cooed as his large and rough hand came up to grope at your tits, watching as they spilled between the gaps of his fingers. His eyes darkened further at the sight. A whiny moan left your lips as you wriggled underneath him, pushing your chest up, seeking more.

''S'okay... I got you. Gonna make you feel real good, darlin'.'' And you could only manage a whine, unable to form any words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. Logan tsked at you, head tilting to the side as he looked at you, eyes flickering from your flushed chest back up to your face, ''Haven't even fucked you yet, and your already going dumb?''

You nodded, slotting your bottom lip between your teeth, and Logan practically growled at the sight as his hand moved down, caressing your ribs, over your stomach, fingertips grazing against your belly button before moving lower.

Your breath hitched as he teased at the waistband of your panties, not quite going further and that made you only feel more desperate, and needy. ''These are cute. Did you wear them on purpose?'' He questioned, snapping it against your skin and eliciting a moan from your lips. ''Answer me, pretty angel.''

The nicknames were doing nothing to help the ache between your legs, instinctively making you rub your thighs together. ''Y-Yeah...'' You replied and he hummed.

''Can I take 'em off?'' And you wasted no time in nodding, bobbing your head up and down. God if you weren't so deeply rooted in this, you would've found yourself pathetic. And maybe you were, but you couldn't care less. You just wanted him. Like he was the answer to all your prayers. Someone you wouldn't think twice about listening to or worshipping.

You were a hundred percent sure this man was a God.

''Yeah, yeah please.'' You were quick to say and Logan didn't need more confirmation than that before he shuffled down a bit. His large hands planted on each side of your hips, ''Lift your hips f'me.'' And you did as he said, lifting up a bit from the soft mattress and allowing him to grip onto the material, dragging it down.

And he did it, oh so slowly. Tease.

''Logan...'' You whined as you watched him, how he kept those hazel eyes locked on your own pair as he tugged them down. ''Patience is a virtue.'' And you wanted to roll your eyes at the words as if you hadn't heard those before. You weren't in the mood for patience, not at all.

You just wanted him to fuck you until you could barely think straight.

''I'm not a patient person.'' You muttered as he slid them down to your ankles, before tossing them somewhere on the floor. His eyes met yours once more, ''Figures.'' He chuckles as he moves closer, grabbing underneath your thighs, and spreading your legs.

His eyes feast upon the sight of your glistening and awaiting pussy. His hazel eyes darken a tad as he takes you in. The prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes upon, and he almost feels ashamed for a split second. A man like him, who's brutal and lives within the darkness of his life, seeing something so eternal like you, it feels illegal.

Like you a forbidden fruit he shouldn't even have laid eyes on to begin with. But your voice pulls him from the depths of his mind.

''Something wrong? Am I not—'' He doesn't even let you finish your sentence, because god forbid something as angelic as you get to be insecure about yourself. ''No... no no. Just admiring the pretty sight laid before me.''

And you blush at his words, biting your lip. ''Yeah? Well if it's such a pretty sight, fuck me.'' You tried to sound confident, you really did. But the crack in your voice, the obvious desire yet nervousness was extremely evident.

And Logan was quick to catch onto it, a smirk gracing his lips, spurring the man on leaving any regret or anything like that behind as he dragged you closer to him by your thighs, making you let out a small squeal. ''Oh, I'll fuck you. Gonna make this pussy sing, yeah?''

He had a silver tongue on him, that's for sure. And it only made you wetter, if that was even possible. His hand slid down between your legs, making you shiver as his thick fingers inched closer to where you needed him most. And you spread your legs wider, opening up more for him.

Logan's rough, calloused fingers brushed against your slick folds, feeling the heat radiating from your core. He groaned at the sensation, his own desire rising rapidly. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already, darlin'," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

You whimpered, arching your back as Logan's fingers teased your entrance, not quite entering you but applying delicious pressure. "Please, Logan," you pleaded, your voice breathy and needy. "I need you."

Logan chuckled darkly, his eyes smoldering as he took in the sight of you sprawled out before him, your body on display, your breasts heaving with each shallow breath.

Logan's fingers continued their torturous teasing, circling your entrance without delving inside. He leaned down, his stubble grazing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your legs.

"Patience, sweetheart," he murmured against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers up your spine. "I wanna savor this moment with you. Make it good for you."

You whined, your hands fisting in the sheets beneath you as you tried to arch into Logan's touch. "Logan, please," you begged, your voice high and desperate. "I can't take it anymore. I need you inside me."

Logan hummed, the vibrations traveling through your body. "So impatient," he chided, but there was no real disapproval in his tone. "Alright, darlin', I'll give you what you want."

He got to removing his boxers, and you swore your eyes were about to pop out of their sockets at the sight of him. His cock was so thick, fat, and decorated with veins. He was definitely a god, no going back on that now.

He shifted, positioning himself between your spread legs. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, could see the hunger in his eyes as he looked down at you. "You're fuckin' beautiful like this," he said, his voice low and rough. "Spread out for me, so eager for my cock."

You blushed at his words, but the embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the desire coursing through your veins. You needed him, needed to feel him inside you, needed to be filled and stretched and claimed by this man who had captured your heart, soul, and body.

Logan reached down, grasping his hard length in his hand. He stroked himself a few times, his eyes never leaving your face. "You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there.

You nodded frantically, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you breathed. "God, yes, Logan. Please, just fuck me already."

Logan chuckled, positioning himself at your entrance. "As you wish," he said, and then he was pushing forward, his thick length sliding into your slick heat inch by inch.

You cried out, your head falling back against the pillow as you felt Logan fill you up. He was so big, stretching you most deliciously, and you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he sank deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan groaned as he felt your tight warm heat envelop him, your walls clenching around his shaft as he bottomed out inside you. "Fuck, darlin'," he grunted, his hips stilling for a moment as he savored the sensation. "You're so fuckin' tight."

You whimpered beneath him, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "Logan," you gasped, your hips rocking slightly as you adjusted to his size. "You're so big. I can feel you everywhere."

Logan chuckled breathlessly, his forehead pressing against yours as he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Take my cock. Fuck, you feel so good."

You moaned, your head falling back against the pillow as Logan set a steady rhythm, his hips snapping forward in a way that had him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every thrust. "Yes, just like that," you gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper.

Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he increased his pace, driving into you harder and faster. The room filled with the sounds of your bodies coming together, the slap of skin on skin, your labored breaths, and needy moans.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last," Logan grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt his orgasm building. "You feel too fuckin' good, darlin'. Gonna fill this pretty pussy up."

You cried out, your body tensing as you felt your own release approaching. "Yes, Logan, yes," you chanted, your nails raking down his back. "Come inside me. I want to feel you come."

With a final, brutal thrust, Logan buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his cum into your awaiting womb. You screamed, your body shaking as your own orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down around Logan's shaft, milking him for every last drop.

You stayed like that for a moment, Logan's weight pressing down on you as you both struggled to catch your breath. Finally, he rolled off of you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"That was...'' Logan trailed off, large hand caressing against your back.

''Amazing.'' You finished the sentence for him, head snuggling up against his chest, his chest hair tickling against your cheek. Your legs were still twitching, spasming at the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Logan's chest rumbled with a chuckle, his arm tightening around you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah, it was," he agreed, his voice a low, satisfied growl. "You're amazing. Fuckin' incredible."

You felt yourself blush at his words, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "You're not so bad yourself," you teased, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "For an old man."

Logan scoffed, his hand coming up to tickle your side. "Old man? I'll show you who's an old man," he threatened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I can go again, you know. And again, and again."

You giggled, squirming in his arms as his fingers danced over your ribs. "I'm sure you can," you said, your voice breathless with laughter. "But I think I need a break first. You kind of wrecked me."

Logan's expression softened, his hand stilling on your skin. "Sorry, darlin'," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "I didn't mean to be too rough."

You shook your head, reaching up to cover his hand with your own. "No, it was perfect," you assured him, your eyes locking with his. "I loved every second of it."

Logan's gaze searched your face for a moment as if trying to determine the truth of your words. Whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, because he leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

When he pulled back, his eyes were warm and soft, a rare vulnerability shining through. "You're something else, angel," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm fuckin' grateful for it."

Your heart swelled at his words, your own eyes growing misty with emotion. "I'm the lucky one," you whispered, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.

And you were, having a man such as himself, making you reach heights you never thought you would, says a lot. And you'd seek him out more, eager and needing more of him.

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

CAR INCIDENT

Summary: After you got to the mysterious place, you met two men who wanted you in their team, but you refused. In the end, you joined them anyway, but it was for a completely different reason.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, strong language, brutal fight, blood, cruel insults (I don't want to offend anyone), oral sex (f!receiving), pitiless unprotected sex (piv), sex through clothes

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,,Oh you motherfucker! I am going to kill-" you angrily pointed at Paradox and run after him, but before you could barely scratch him he pointed some kind of pole at you and you were suddenly falling who knows where. You scream your way down and after you hit the ground you stayed there for a while and fainted.

After a while you heard two male voices, one sounded deep and masculine, the other not so much and when you felt the presence of strangers around you, it forced you to open your eyes and finally wake up.

"Aw there you are sleeping beauty" when you finally focus your vision, there were two men in suits standing over you. One looked like spiderman from wish, the other was wearing a peeled banana costume and even his stern disgusted face looked like that too.

"Where am I? Who the fuck are you?" furiously but still a bit confused you started asking questions as you get on your elbows. ,,Easy there sugarbear, I'll help you" the Red Riding Hood offered you a hand but you pushed it away and stand up on your own.

"Okay, independent, got it” the coca~cola mascot kept talking shits and you started getting furious. You liked the yellow lemon more, all he did was keep his mouth shut and stare at you with a murderous look, just your type.

"Can you tell me where the fuck am I?" you threw your hands in the air and really got your tone serious. "I wish we knew darling" "Call me darling again, and I'll cut you nuts, shove them right into your nostrils and push them forward until your head explodes!" You warned the red bastard and he put his hands up in surrender. The moron in yellow right next to him started laughing, immediately caught your attention.

“And what the fuck are you laughing at, wanna be minion?” after your very personal insult, the banana guy stopped laughing, his face taking on a really pissed expression instead.

"Look, we don't know much more than you. All of a sudden we found ourselves here and we have nothing but ourselves" the red guy went to give the angry man an exemplary hug, but he dodged his shoulder so roughly, that he almost hit the wanna be spiderman in the face.

You just rolled your eyes and looked around, but it was a complete desert. Literally, it was a desert with nothing and no one, just fucking sand and some rock here and there.

"You know it's not that bad in here, no loud crying babies, no honking cars..." you closed your eyes and took a deep breath to calm down a little, but it was really impossible over the voice of that jerk who doesn't know when to shut the fuck up. Well, unfortunately, even breathing exercise didn't calm you down and you lose it.

,,Fuck! Son of a bitch! Fucking cunt! Eat my goddamn asshole!” you awkwardly waved your arms around, kicking the ground and screaming at the top of your voice while the two dorks just watched you silently with a blank face.

They let you really express yourself and it was a true spectacle for them. Wade was smiling and giggling under his mask while Logan was incredibly visibly judging you, even though he has anger issues himself.

When you finally get yourself over it, you turned back to face the two bubs, who never took their eyes off you for a single second. "Sorry about that I just..." you raised your hand as an apologetic act but you didn't know how to continue in your speech, so you just shut your mouth and calmly looked at the ground accompanied by a loud disappointed exhalation.

,,It's okay honeybun, Wolvie loose himself too sometimes" you raised an eyebrow and look at the banana coded man, who snarled so terrifyingly that it gave you goosebumps all over your body. But you couldn't tell if it turned you on or it drove you fear.

"But, we need to find a way out of this dump and save my world-" "And fix my past" the ‘Wolvie’ man finished the sentence and you frowned offensively at both of them. "Woah woah woah, hold on a second" you throw your hands again until you showed a raised index finger. "We?"

"Um yes? Weeee" that red period-ad jerk started twirling his finger around, showing that by 'we' he meant everyone including you. But instead of a normal reaction, you burst out laughing so hard that your eyes watered. After a while, the really chatty brute joined in, but the minion man didn't even move a muscle on his face.

"Are you done or-" he asks firmly and watched you as if you were some kind of idiots, but at that moment you were idiots. "What makes you think, I would want to join your little pervert club huh?" when you finally reassured, you insulted both of them at once efforesly, again.

The Little Red Riding Hood finally stopped laughing and the bitter lemon was still looking at you the same way, murderous look of a killer. Even though his expression was truly terrifying, you weren't afraid.

"Well, I mean I thought it was obvious!" you returned your attention back on the spiderman and stared at him in disbelief, as you started shaking your head. "Oh my god-" you firmly stuck two fingers on the radix of your nose and squeezed very hard.

You really hoped that it would make you dizzy and you'd pass out again and then wake up at home under the covers with hot cocoa in your hand, unfortunately that didn't happen.

You admired the banana minion a lot, that he could stand that jerk, but you suspected that he was also losing his nerve with him, just during this conversation. Still, you were quite surprised that he hadn't killed him long ago.

“You know what, I'll find the exit by myself, bye losers!” You very graciously said goodbye to them and walked to the other side than the two of them were standing together.

"Wait, you don't even know us!" "And I don't even want to!" you turned your head towards them and then back where you were heading. There was a sweet silence for a while until the yellowjacket spoke up this time. "Uh, you probably shouldn't go there" you sighed in annoyance and turn your head at them again. "Oh really? Well you can suck my di-" BOOM, something really heavy crashed into your head and you were K.O. just in a snap.

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Your eyelids were really heavy but you finally managed to open your eyes. Your vision was blurry and your head was pounding, like you'd been drinking for three days straight and had the most painful hangover.

You automatically held your head in your hands and tried to get a little idea of ​​where you were. You were in a car, new car, but something wasn't right. You were sitting in the passenger seat, so logically, someone had to drive the car.

You carefully turned your head to the left and there was none other than lemon guy with a really cute hairstyle, styled into cat ears, that you only noticed it now.

"Where am I?" your drunk tone brightened up the quiet atmosphere and you let it be known that you were finally awake. He didn't even have the balls to look at you when he answered. "Isn't it obvious?" he pretty much wiped you out with that and you acknowledged it by nodding your head to the side. But you were still disoriented and mostly had no idea how you got here.

"Wha-what happened?" you drop your hand down to your thighs, when the headache subsided. You tried really hard to remember, but all you remember is how you turned around to the two bastards and then, all you could see was black.

“Well, after you told me to suck your dick, you got hit by some freak called Juggernaut" he was still paying 100% of his attention to the road, but at the end of the sentence he finally looked at you to check if you're not bleeding. He knew that you probably had some superpowers, because a mere human wouldn't survive such an impact, but he didn't know that you also had a healing factor, so even if you bled, it would be just for a while.

"Juggernaut..." you repeated his name quietly. "Who the fuck is that?" your tone sounds way more better and it was finally possible to recognize that it is a female voice too.

"I don't know, after his fucking boring speech about world domination, he took Deadpool..." the yellow guy finally told you where you were actually going, but you didn't pay attention to it at first, because the redhead's name took you by surprise.

"Deadpool? That's the name of the moron who won't shut the fuck up?" he nodded before correcting you. "Well, his superhero name" you silently repeated the last two words and did not take your eyes off the driver. "And your is Wolvie?-" "Wolverine" he growled quite angrily and insulted. Goosebumps jumped all over your body and your body hair stood up immidiately.

"And your full name is?" you asked mainly for a reason, because even though you enjoyed calling him a rotten banana, you have your limits. "Why should I tell you mine when I know shit about you" fair point. ,,You're right...I am Y/N Y/L/N. I don't have a superhero name cuz I don't need to be special" you needed to mock them with that addition, but he ignored it.

"Logan Howlett" when you heard his full name you couldn't help but start giggling all over the car. Logan gave you a judgmental yet annoyed look but you continued on. "The fuck you laughin' at?" he asked, getting really sick of you already. You wped your tears carefully as you calmed yourself down.

"Logan? What stupid name is that? Your parents must hate you for giving you that name!” you started laughing again but stopped, when he turned the car around and aggressively stepped on the brake. "Listen to me, kitten, you're going to behave yourself and keep your mouth shut, is that clear to you?! " he looked really pissed off, you probably hit his sensitive spot, but couldn't care less.

"And why should I do that?" "Because we fucking saved your life! Some gratitude wouldn't kill you..." he grabbed the steering wheel and looked like he was going to starts the car, but you wouldn't let him.

,,Gratitude?! I'd save myself and besides, I said I don't want to be in your pervert little club, so goodbye!" you reached for the handle of the car door, but it couldn't be opened. The moron locked it. You turn your head slowly to Logan and hissed. "Open. The. Fucking. Door." but he didn't do that and just shook his head.

"Open the fucking door or I'll smash your head!" you started threatening and really thought you were even foaming at the mouth from how much you raged, but Logan just chuckle at your silly words and looked you deep into your eyes, hypnotizing you by his murderous gaze.

"Do you have any idea how much I want to kick you out of this fucking car and run you over until you're nothing but crunchy bones?" he growled at you really pissed off and you just listened in silence to see where his words would go. ,,But alas, I'm doing it for Wade" he turned his face back to front and gripped the steering wheel really hard, as if it was eating away from the inside, that he was doing something nice for his co-worker.

From his speech, you obviously understood that Deadpool's name is Wade and that he wants you on his team, but you'd rather blow a homeless man than join these wretches. "Yeah well, I don't give a single fuck what that cunt wants, I said I'm not joining you, so open the fucking door, you son of a bitch!"

The atmosphere in the car could be cut as the two of you argued and cursed each other. You have never said so many dirty words in your entire life. "You ungrateful little bitch! We saved your life and now you're going to save that jerk with me!" he punched into the steering wheel and you were really surprised it didn't break into pieces already.

"Are you fucking deaf grandpa?! I'm not going with you so open the door!" it was endless, you kept arguing about practically the same thing just exchanging words until Logan really lost his temper with you and you got to experience what he's really like.

"You little dirty bitch I'll tell you something. I've never seen someone as pathetic and moronic as you! You must have grown up without a dad and now you just fucking old men so you could know what a man's love feels like, but you will never experience it! And the worst part is that it was god's best joke, you didn't die when Juggernaut landed on you!"

You just stared at him silently in disbelief. You really didn't expect this, all these insults hit you hard and you felt several mixed emotions at once. Your blood was boiling inside you, but your face was still blank, watching Logan without blinking once. You knew he was a dick, but you really had no idea he could say all these things.

You were still staring at him, not a single movement of your facial muscles, not a single twitch of your body, you were frozen and had no idea what to say or do next.

,,Oh you have nothing to say now, mouth?!” But Logan still got no answer. You stared at him silently and adrenaline was starting to accumulate in your body at the speed of light. Eventually you wete finally being able to say something.

,,I'm gonna fight you now" you said in the most stern tone with no emotions at all. Logan just started laughing at you. ,,Oh are you?” As soon as he said that, Logan got punched right in the nose, which immediately started bleeding and he suddenly stopped laughing so much.

He looked really peeved and so was he. With an angry growl he punched you twice as hard until he took your head and started banging it against the radio, that changed the song whenever your forehead was crushed.

After the third smash when You're The One That I Want started playing on the radio, he finally let your head go and you immediately wanted to take the opportunity and reached for your knife, but you didn't make it because you got another hard hit into the bleeding face.

He knock you down for a tiny moment and Logan immediately tied you up by safety belt and rammed his knives sticking out of his knuckles right into your stomach. You painfully moan as you throw your head back, as Logan tells you, “You're not talking at all, are ya?" while twirling his knives into you, making you even more wail in pain.

He then pulled his knives out and prepared to drive them right into your head, but you reached for a lever that decomposes the seat into a bad-mode and just narrowly dodged Logan. But he already pierce his knives through the car.

He immediately wanted to attack you until you started using your legs. You kicked him in the head, then wrapped his body around with your seriously strong thighs and started slamming him against the side of the car. He grumpled every time he got slammed, but he didn't let you like it for long because he then stabbed you right in the ribs.

“Ah you dirty bitch!” you groaned and kicked Logan so hard that he broke the front window and flew out of it. This gave you a few seconds to prepare for him, so you pulled your knives out of your pants pockets, but before you could do anything more, Logan flew at you through the empty space and stabbed you right in the ribs again.

You let out a loud moan and scrunched your face in pain as you threw your head back and lifted your lap, resting it right on Logan's cock. His knives still stuck deep inside you, while you were hissing and whining, your eyes tightly shut and your pan was still rubbing against Logan's private part.

Normally, he would already punching your head, or stabbed you anywhere else on your body, but he stopped. That view at you writhing in pain, covered in blood and plus that preassure you were giving him without realizing, fuck it was turning him on.

His irascible expression softened, as he tucked back in his knives, making you howl in pain, but it didn't hurt for long, as your wounds healed almost immediately. You were already preparing for another hard hit, but nothing happened.

Your lower part was still up, literally provoking Logan, but still nothing. You finally opened your eyes and put your bum back on the seat, when you saw Logan above you, not so angry and feral anymore. You were confused and wanted to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but his hands were faster than your words.

He grabbed your side and forced you again lifting your waist and rubbing it against Logan's lap. He hummed softly as he closed his eyes and dropped his head, and you immediately knew what is going on. But the worst part of it all was, that you wanted it just as much as he did.

The whole fight excited you so much that you had so much happiness hormone and adrenaline in you, that completely destroyed all the intelligent cells. They would forbid you to do this or even think about it at all but since you didn't have one left, you had no choice.

You started to help Logan and moved back and forth, creating more friction, that made Logan go feral again. "Ah fuck" he growled under his breath as you pushed more into his rising erection, screaming for freeing him from that tight yellow suit. God, the sight of Logan and the feel of his cock, which didn't seem small at all, made a waterfall between your legs.

To top it all off, as if everyone was wishing you this, the song on the radio changed and I Feel Like I'm Drowning started playing, adding to the whole atmosphere the right vibe. After a few seductive movements, you parted your lips and began to sigh softly, which was sweetening to Logan's ears.

He opened his eyes and looked at you, how seductive you were, how desperate you looked. Oh he's gonna fuck your brain out.

You couldn't take it anymore and grabbed his neck, pulling him closer and pressed your lips to his. He didn't hesitate for a second and cooperated, bitting your lower lip to have better penetration for his tongue.

He didn't stop at fucking you through your clothes as he desperately begged for more friction in the delivery of his growls.

You didn't expect Logan to be such a good kisser. Like sure, he's old enough to have experience, but like this? It was like kissing sweet meringue freshly made from a pastry shop, like touching strawberry cotton candy with your lips, like tasting the sweetest cherry for the first time.

The combination of sweet kissing at the top but hard fucking at the bottom made your heart beat much faster, you though that you will have a heart attack every second.

Logan's pace picked up, a lot. Both of your bodies shake real fast, as he was trying to catch up to his climax. However, he didn't stop kissing you during that, but his frenzy began to show, when the slow kissing turned into biting and squealing during it.

"Logan I-" you whined his name between the wild kisses, as you felt you are on the edge. Logan knew it, your body began to shake with impatience and your first smooth steady moans were now more like choppy, startled grunts.

"I know bub, I know" he groans as he himself felt he couldn't take it anymore. He really wanted to rip the suits off of both of you and cum into you, but he didn't have time or patience for that.

His movements were now merciless and he even had to stop kissing you, because he started feeling dizzy. Your nails dug deep into Logan's neck, blood dripping onto your suit but it was barely a pinch to Logan. Mostly, he couldn't feel anything other than how close he was to his orgasm.

Your warm feeling in your lower abdomen was getting hotter and hotter, the tension of your whole body was completely at its limit and you only needed a few more thrusts to finally feel the release. That's exactly what Logan gave you, and you both cum at the same time, moan and growl over each other, when you were shaking with shock.

Naturally, you were still moving your hips to ride off the orgasm while Logan was trying to desperately catch his breath. Well, both of you destroyed your suits, disabled yourselfs and thus lost all respect and Wade is probably dead by now, but it was worth it.

Logan was still holding you in the air but you were so exhausted that you gave him all your weight. It was nothing to him, like you barely even weigh anything.

When Logan's breathing finally settled, he let go of your waist and jumped on you like a beast. You were still breathing heavily but he didn't care, he filled your mouth with his nimble tongue while his naughty hands tried to get your suit off as fast as possible.

You became quite suspicious after a while as you still felt his big fingers on your waist but the suit was still stuck on you like a tick. Logan took a deep angry breath between the kisses, before he pulled away and let out a furious shout. "Fuck!" this time he focused only on your suit.

You chuckle at the sigh of him trying so desperately to see you naked. He looked like an angry child who didn't get a sweet treat. Your laugh infuriates him even more, but when he felt your hand on his, he looked at you and stopped all his movements.

"Let me help you" you gave him a warm smile and with a bit of a struggle started unzipping the zipper on your back that ended just above your ass. Logan watched you breathlessly and waited. You tried to keep eye contact the whole time as you slowly stripped out of your suit and like a snap of your fingers, you were completely naked and the suit was god knows where.

He admired your body for a moment, his eyes scanning you thoroughly until they landed on your face again. Leaning your elbows on the seat, you waited to see what he is gonna do, he was so unpredictable.

He gave you a devilish smirk, before he got on his knees and his face disappeared between your legs. Your breath started shaking as you leaned against your palms to have a better view of Logan. Without any warning, he slammed his lips, still wet from your saliva, on your folds.

You immediately throw your head back as you sink your fingers inside the seat, while trying to keep your voice down. He was just giving you a sweet little kisses at first, starting from your clit down to your pulsating core. He repeated this few times, before he penetrated his tongue inside you. You bite your lips really hard, as you desperately tried to be as quiet as possible.

You were starting to closing your legs from that unimaginable pleasure, but Logan had his strong hands on your thighs, keeping them from crushing his head. He was looking at you, how you were shaking from excitement, how his swirling tongue inside you makes your jaw dropped and eyes wide open.

He loved every second of it. You tasted amazing, he couldn't get enough of your juice and he needed more, he was voracious. That was why he buried his face even deeper into your core, making you arch your back and grab Logan's hair really hard, that you almost pulled some out.

The way his nose was accidentally bumping into your clit, and his nimble tongue inside you, trying to suck up everything he could, was sending you to the edge faster and faster. Your efforts to be quiet failed and you moaned his name as loud as your vocal cords would allow.

The way you pulled Logan's hair and ground your waist even deeper into his face made him growl into you, the vibration from his voice sending shivers down your spine. He was messaging your thighs violently, definitely leaving bruises there. But you didn't mind, at least it was a reminder of this unforgettable moment.

After a few more twirls of his tongue inside you, you started tightening around him. Your stomach lurched and you threw your head back so briskly that your neck nearly snapped. The hot feeling started being overwhelming and just when your legs started shaking and you lost complete control of your lower body, you released yourself accompanied by a loud wail.

Logan groaned as he felt your salty juice on his tongue in large quantities and swallowed it all, not leaving a single drop. He also cleaned your folders, making your body trembled from the slight overstimulation.

Logan got up from his knees and watched you for a moment as you struggled to catch your breath again. Eyes closed, sweat dripping from your forehead and mouth hang open, this is how you looked and all of this is just Logan's clever work.

After a while of observation, he leaned closer to you, forcing you to lie on your back. You opened your eyes, still exhausted with no energy, while Logan on the other hand looked as alert as fish. "That...was..." you tried to form some kind of meaningful sentence, but your mouth failed you. Logan just laughed at you.

,,Ah we're just gettin started, bub” he lunged straight for your neck where he mercilessly bit and seared your skin so hard, that for a moment you thought he really wanted to tear it from your body. You whined as you grabbed his huge back and your fingernails almost cut through his banana suit.

You didn't even notice when Logan managed to take his suit off but out of nowhere he was completely naked just like you. It was a must, urge, a need for you to touch his abs and boobs, feel his hairy body and take advantage of an opportunity that not everyone has. The best part was, that the sweat reflected the light beautifully on him and he literally blinded you with his body.

He stopped harrasing your neck for a moment and kept his head really close over yours, your noses almost touching. "You like that?" he asked with a cocky smile, while you were appreciating him and sliding your fingers around the depth. That was enough for Logan, he chuckled dutifully until he jumped back onto your red-purple neck, trying to find more parts he hadn't tasted yet.

You felt his hard erection poking your inner thigh and from time to time even touching your wet folds. Even though your neck was sore as hell, you regained the energy and urge to have something inside you, to have Logan inside you.

Your hips started eagerly moving, desperately wanting to feel more than just a tip. Logan noticed what you were trying to do and finally let go of your neck. You were so glad for your healing factor right now.

That stupid cocky smile didn't leave his face once, as he put his forehead against yours. His eyes open, watching you struggle with yours. They kept glitching, closing and opening, not being able to hold still.

When you finally managed to keep them open, you look deep into Logan's wolf eyes with hope. You were hoping he would help you release the anger and pain you were holding inside you, you were hoping he would help you release and relax just as he did a moment ago, and that was exactly his intention.

You didn't have to say anything for Logan to know how much you wanted to be full of his dick and he didn't have to say how much he wanted to fuck you either. No words, just intimate eye contact before Logan began to penetrate you.

He was slow at first, even though he wanted to rip out your guts and strangle you a few minutes ago, he didn't really want to hurt you. It was painful at first, but just for a moment, because Logan literally stretched you out with his tongue before, so you were kinda prepared for him. His head was inside and you could already tell that he is massive.

He growls as he kept moving forward and you were literally killing him by how tight and wet you were. You were made for him, as soon as he was balls deep inside you, there was no room for anything else anymore. The feeling of being full makes you insane.

Logan didn't hesitate for a second and began to move his hips, just for a warm up. He didn't even pull out completely, just a gentle thrusts, that made you whine whenever he pushed in.

He adored your soft whimper but he wanted to hear you moan his name, he needed to hear it. That's why he started to accelerate the pace and magnify the strength of his thrusts. The wet juicy sound of Logan's cock inside you surrounded the whole car. After a little while, you could immediately smell sex and lust in there.

Before long, Logan's sweet movements fade into lustful rough thrusts, that made your boobs moving and your hair messy. His hot heavy breath warmed your face, as you were still glued to each other's face with forehead, but Logan couldn't keep up with this position anymore and needed to have your body under full control.

He securely grabbed your weist as he backed up and looked at you from above. He kept your lower body as still as he could, while callously pulling his member fully out and then pushed him as deep as his body allows him. Your vision started being blurry and your eyes began watering, as Logan didn't mess with you at all and bitterly fucked you.

When you thought his tongue was too much, this was a totally different level. It was pleasure and pain at the same time. You rolled your eyes and since your support was no longer Logan's back, you grabbed the seat underneath you and ruined it with your nails. Poor seat.

His teeth clenched as he was keeping his gaze on you, on your poor face begging for his cum. That thought turned him on even more, he had to throw his head back as his balls were still clapping against your ass in a lightning speed.

You feel it again, the heat, spinning head, the burning sensation in the lower abdomen, you were close as hell. Your core were pulsating like never before, giving Logan a clear sign you will cum soon. But the throbbing feeling of your cunt against Logan's base make his balls so full that he feels the need to empty himself too.

Now it was just a wild ride. Logan quickly grabbed you and flipped you over so you were sticking your butt out and your face was pinned to the broken seat. That sudden change of position sends you even closer to the edge and you were at a stage where you didn't give a single shit about your loudness.

,,Ah fuck yes” Logan growled like a beast as he still ferarly and rawly thrusts into you from behind. All his hatred and anger that he had held inside for so long is giving into his slamming against your mellow squashy ass.

The only thing you regretted was that you couldn't see his enjoyable face. but it made up for it that he immediately found your g-spot when he changed the position, and god forbid, he was torturing that spongy wet spot which you could never reach on your own.

You scrunch your face tightly by the fact that you were so desperate to reach your climax. You move your ass against Logan's lap, helping both of you to finally cum. He slammed your butt once or twice, admiring the shakeness of it. But that still didn't appease his grudge. He grabbed you by your messy hair and pulled so hard that you got up on all fours.

"Huh, where's your attitude now, bub?" He hissed but the clapping and wet sounds were way more louder than his dirty words. You were in a whole other dimension. All your senses stopped working as if you were drugged and all you could feel was Logan's twitching dick inside you.

He was losing control of his hips and his movements, all he focused on was you, how you were tightening around him and moaning his name so loudly that he would remember this voice into his 90s.

"I'm cumming...I-" you whine, almost whisper roughly as you felt that weird but pleasant urge to pee. Logan sinks his fingers into your flesh firmly, as he knew he will fill you up any second now. He was still holding your hair really tight and you couldn't hold back anymore.

You arch your back as you cum on Logan's cock, but he kept going, until he finally cum too. He screamed so loudly that the birds outside were startled and flew away. You both tried to steady your breathing again as Logan rammed into you peacefully a few more times.

You were devastated. Your makeup was smeared and plastered on the holey and scratched seat, your core was swollen and red and your hair looked like a nest. Logan was in a same state as you. All sweaty, his dick full of veins, that were painfully pulsating and his hair, which resembled wolf ears, were just a mess.

After his breathing calmed down a bit, he let go of your hair and carefully pulled himself out of you. You both hissed but then let out a relieved moan when he was fully out. He collapsed right into the seat next to you, his head turned to your direction.

You landed with all your weight on your seat, if you can even call it that, and closed your eyes. Little did you know that Logan was looking at you the whole time, waiting for you to finally open your eyes and look at him too. It took a while but when you did, he smiled at you. You were too exhausted to wonder that Logan Howlett just smiled at you. Instead, you smiled back.

Then, out of nowhere, he started laughing hysterically and you joined him. It looked really funny, two completely naked people in a destroyed car lying across each other and laughing. Everyone would say you took some kind of drug. Well, if rough disrespectful sex counts as a drug, then yes.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"You know, I started worried for a minute there" Wade said as he looked out the window from the backseat. You were sitting in the passenger seat and of course, Logan was driving.

Before you went to save Wade you cleaned the car as best as you could and yourselfs too. “I really though you just gave up on me like that...” none of you answered, you just listened to his stupid talk. "Did you notice that it kinda smells like sex in here?" your eyes widened and your breath got caught up in your throat.

Logan was shocked too, but he quickly cleared his throat and kept himself calm. "The original owner apparently used this as a sex place or somethin'” his deep voice was really convincing. Wade just grunted in agreement and was finally quiet, but only for a moment.

,,And I also heard someone screaming your name Logan and I gotta tell you, it was really intense" okay and now, you're fucked.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[reyalvr]

RUMORS!

I KNOW YOU HEARD THE RUMORS, YOU MUST GET OVER TO IT RIGHT AWAY!

synopsis ┊ ken sato- a remarkable name in the world of modern baseball- has graced japan with not only his presence, but also his skills as a key player for the yomiuri giants. from press conferences to media endorsements, it’s clear that his stardom has only intensified from his recent move. but what happens when you, his personal assistant, are left to deal with some more… serious rumors?

genre ┊ chaotic fluff, oneshot

pairing ┊ ken sato x gn-PA!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, ami is not the reporter depicted!

word count ┊ 2.2k

author’s note ┊ hiya! i recently found time to watch ultraman: rising and this fic was just writing itself in my head hehe… happy reading! (p.s. yes… the title was inspired from the new minions song)

THREE MONTHS. That was how long you had known baseball’s darling, Ken Sato. And in those three months, you had undergone every single PR nightmare you had ever conjured up in your mind prior to pursuing your career. You had worked with celebrities before- doing God knows what ‘til the waking hour on their every beck and call. But Ken, despite presenting himself as a laid back man, was an entirely new… experience. 

From the Kaiju attack at his first game under the Giants, to the continuous streak of losses throughout the first half of the season, it seemed like the Gods were against you as you did your damndest to handle the damage control on his reputation. His ego didn’t aid you either- having to spin and twist multiple incidents to get reporters and media outlets off his back. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that kept you from quitting all in all, but the longer you worked under him, the thinner your thread seemed to snap. 

You huffed an annoyed sigh into the cold air, picking up the pace as you jogged along the designated path by the bay. Your days off were scarce- not because of Ken’s schedule, but because of your own decision to be up to date with his spontaneous actions. Despite the rarity of solitude, you always managed to savor your time off. The music played at a mellow volume in your ears, the morning sun starting to warm your surroundings as you watched its rays splash hues of orange across the sky. 

Your felt your watch beep against your skin, signaling the end of your morning run. Pausing by the railing, you leaned against the old metal bars as you checked your stats. You swiped absent-mindedly on the screen of your smartwatch, scrolling once you were sure that everything was in order. There was one thing that caught your eye, though, as you noticed the red notification bubbles on your message app were continuously going up. It was odd, yes, but not odd enough to be out of the ordinary- at least in your line of work. 

Deciding not to bombard yourself this early in the morning, you opted to give everything a once-over once you made it back to your apartment. Whatever it was could wait- you were on your time and your pace. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it now?

IT DEFINITELY COULD, AND IT DEFINITELY WAS. You pushed on the gas as hard as you could, your tongue poking into your cheek as you continued to drive to Ken’s house. Of all the days that he decided to make perhaps the stupidest decision in his career, he chose today. Doing your best not to see red, you dialed his phone once more. The ringing played throughout your car as you maneuvered through the roads, and you swore for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning when you heard the tone of his voice message. 

Hey, it’s Ken. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll be more than happy to ignore it! Said his usual arrogant tone playing before the generic beep. You gripped the steering wheel harder, huffing angrily as you sharply turned a corner. 

“Kenji Sato answer your goddamn phone right now! I’m ten minutes away from your house and when I get there, I better not be greeted with your supposed secret love child!” You yelled, pushing the red button once you finished your message. 

Ah yes. The centerpoint of your current rage: Ken’s “leaked” one-on-one with a reporter about juggling baseball and his homelife. Someone on Ken’s staff had sent the article in your shared work group chat, and nearly all of his personnel had directly messaged you about the issue. It was inevitable for celebrities to get into a scandal once or twice, but one on this level would not be an easy fit to overcome. 

You don’t exactly remember what you were doing prior to receiving the messages- all you knew was that you needed to get to Ken as soon as possible. Of course it just be a misunderstanding, hell it could even be a hoax! But knowing Kenji, anything could be possible. You neared the hill of his private property, driving past the gates as the security recognized your car.

You parked haphazardly at the front of his house, your feet stomping into the gravel as you made your way to his front door. His estate had numerous smart tech installed throughout his home, so you knew that each and every one of your moves were either being recorded or observed. You crouched slightly to be in frame with the doorbell’s camera, your anger slightly toned down.

“Ken.” You paused to narrow your eyes. “Open the door.”

For the next minute and a half you swore you could hear some sort of clash and bang from inside the house. You kept your arms crossed, raising your eyebrow from time to time when the clashing seemed to grow louder. After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened slightly. Not all the way, but just enough for Ken to peek out and smile at you- albeit nervously cocky.

The nerve.

“Hey, [Y/N]! What uh- what are you doing here?” He manages to cough out, roughly combing a hand through his hair. “I thought it was your day o-”

“Save it.” You reply, your gaze sharp enough to slice through whatever excuse he had at the ready. You held up your phone then, the article’s headline prominently bolded:

OUT OF LEFT FIELD: Ken Sato Strikeout? Nope! Love Child Home Run!

Ken’s head bent down to get a good look at what you were showing him, and you watched carefully as his eyes scanned over the article not once, but thrice. You let out an impatient hum, your mouth forming into a slight scowl as the both of you stood in silence. With your head tilted to the side, you dropped your hand back down and crossed your arms. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to start explaining to me what the hell you’ve been up to these past twenty-four hours?” You question, moving past him as you enter the house. 

Usually you would wait for Ken to let you in, but stalling would only hinder you from coming up with what to do next. The article had already been up for two hours, and you halted any statements from being made before you could get an explanation from Ken himself. He quickly tailed after you, nearly stumbling over himself as you stopped at his kitchen. You gripped the marble countertop, closing your eyes momentarily before you turned to face him once more. 

“[Y/N] I swear, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Ken says as he tries to add reassurance to his tone, but it doesn't mask the lingering tinge of falsehood.

“Oh, really?” You say, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Because in the span of two hours I have had thirty news outlets blowing up my- your management team for a response!”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops again midway when you continue. “The headline I showed you was local. I want you to tell me exactly how and why you were on the phone with a reporter talking about your private life at God knows what hour. Now.”

You can see him swallow, licking his lips after as he tries to form the right words. He blinks a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up as he lets out a deep sigh. When he opens his eyes he’s still greeted with your restive stance. Still he remains slightly hesitant, but he does end up recalling the remnants of his conversation with a reporter he had met at one of the parties he attended. Ken goes on to explain that he had only seeked out advice. His schedule, his personal life- he needed an outlet. You can feel yourself slowly untense, though you continued to listen to make sure all your facts were straight.

When he finishes his retelling, he puts his hands up slightly- as if he were trying to put you at ease. “I swear, that’s all I said. I thought,” He pauses, his brows furrowing in a way that made you slightly mad at yourself from blowing up at him. “I just thought I could have a normal conversation for once. ‘Guess I was wrong.”

The warm lights cast a sombre shadow on his features, and from this angle you notice the worn out expression painted on his face. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, not to mention the fading bruises from his latest altercation with one of players from his opposing team. In front of you was not Ken Sato, this was Kenji; Simply a man who was thrust into a new life without the needed support. 

“Well, no shit.” You say, finally breaking the silence, you fix your posture against the counter as you tone down the anger in your voice. “Jesus Ken, sometimes I wonder how you were able to maintain your career before me.”

At that he lets out a soft laugh, his dull expression slowly fading. “Yeah, I do too.”

You give him a puzzled look before you reply. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, I was being serious.” He says, his smile dropping slightly. “I know I haven’t been an easy task, hell you’re here on your day off for Christ’s sake.” 

You hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly as you push yourself off the counter with another awkward cough. In all ninety days of working under Ken Sato, never has the man gotten this sentimental with you. You decide not to linger on his words, your attention going back to the problem at hand. 

“Right, well,” You sigh, whipping your phone out in the process. “I need you to give me the name of that reporter. I’ll get the legal team to draft an NDA breach.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows then, looking at you as if you’d said something odd. “I didn’t make him sign an NDA though?”

You only give him a smile, a hint of confidence plastered on your lips. “I know. I have my ways, Sato.”

“You’re a pretty good assistant, then.” He replies, the corners of his lips going up slightly as he keeps his arms crossed. 

“I’m an excellent assistant.” You correct without looking at him, your fingers tapping away at your phone as you prepare the next steps of your plan. 

Ken can only chuckle in agreement, tapping his fingers on his forearm as he awaits your next set of instructions. Within the next twenty minutes you’ve sent out the necessary details to your team, your legs kicking as you sit on one of his bar stools. He’s stood across from you, leaning on the countertop looking at you intently as you explain the response plan. 

“And lastly,” You say, sliding out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

 His head tilts, the same confused expression on his face. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Your hand curls, motioning for him to hand his phone over. “No, I am not installing a monitor.” You add when you see his mouth open to interrogate you. 

He slides his phone over with a defeated huff, and you open a new contact page on his contacts. “If you need to talk, do it with someone who won’t leak your shit.” You say, sliding back his phone when all your details are settled.

“I have your number though, don’t I?” Ken questions, looking over at the number you inputted. 

“You had my work number. Now you have my personal phone.” You point your finger at him before continuing. “Don’t abuse it. I’m still your assistant.” “Wasn’t gonna, sweetheart.” He says, an amused smirk mixing in with his addled look. 

You quirk your eyebrow at the nickname. You shake your head, hopping off the stool as you make your way back to the front door. Ken follows behind you, hands in his pockets as he watches you leave. Before you can open the door though, you look back at him one last time. 

“I mean it, Ken.” You say, making sure it gets through his head. “You have a problem, tell me. You need a solution, you tell me.”

“I know, I know.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the door. “Go enjoy the rest of your day off before I start thinking you care about me.”

“I do. It’s my job to care about you, Ken.” You reply, giving him a look before you open the door. “Whether you like it or not, I’m your lifeline. At least until you get rid of me, which won’t be happening for a good while.”

“Oh yeah?” He jests, his cocky demeanor slowly coming back. “‘You so sure about that?”

“Extremely sure.” You’re standing outside now, slowly walking backwards. “Twenty minutes ago people thought you had a secret love child and that you were a terrible father. Now you’re back on the face of KFC as baseball’s darling.” 

He’s taken aback. Was he actually booted off of his collaborations? He hastily checked his phone, scrolling through all his platforms. To his surprise, he was greeted with… his usual feeds. No sight of the article, no lingering gossip. His ads had doubled, his partnerships boosted on the products he had endorsed. He looked back up to say something, but you had already started your car. You backed out his estate, giving him a smile through the tinted glass of your windshield. 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. You were right. But who was he kidding?

You always were.

[2-dsimp]

Since you won’t give us a Yandere harem, I would like to kindly demand for you to give us Yandere twins instead.

Like where are those twins that are suffocating me in their loving embrace, one twin has to constantly be with their darling, they can’t leave her alone to the beasts. Where is the twin who is mocking me for being overstimulated, whilst the other twin is right behind me whispering sweet nothings in my ear as if he isn’t the one jack-hammering into me. Where is the twin that distracts me, and whisks me away to look at the cute dress I really liked, whilst the other twin is gouging out the eyes of the guy who happened to glance in my direction for a moment. (He was looking a dress behind me for his own girlfriend)

Give me twinsssssss, pleaseeeee. I’m dying over hereeeeee. I’ll even take triplets! Now that be extra yummy! It can’t be Yandere’s without the classic twins. 😭😭😭

Thank you for reading this rant, please give us a harem 🤧

- 💎 anon

—-/———

[Nah yall want a harem this is how it’s gonna be. Imagine a pod of bully! dolphin male hybrids, and a fem! Chubby pufferfish darling.]

Cw: MDNI NSFW!

-//———————/——————-//——

The bully dolphins were the gangsters of the sea. They took and pillaged whatever they wanted. They may look innocent on the outside but they oftentimes took turns passing you around like a blunt. Without a care in the world as they got high off that sweet toxic pheromones you’d release whenever they’d toy with you.

“Awe look at our lil creampuff! Hey don’t be so rough on em boss! I wanna ruin them too!”

The petite dolphin trilled, patting your head affectionately as if you were a dog. Nosing against your cheek and pressing kisses to your scent glands. Praising you for how much of a cock loving whore you were for them.

“Yeah, you’re Goddamn right about that Qao, hey old man how bout you hurry up already? I’m itching for a turn.”

The heavily scarred dolphin, chuffed, his gills flaring impatiently. As he occupied himself with jerking off with their adorable chubby pufferfish’s jiggling tits. Groaning at the feel of their softness squeezing and message his neglected length.

“There’s no point Gaeju, the leaders a selfish prick. Who can’t function without his daily dose of our puff slut.”

Droned the tired lanky dolphin, making do with lazily folding your leg, to stuff his slimy sheath in between the junction. Of where your calf meets the back of your plush thighs.

Meanwhile the weathered and seasoned bully dolphin, Eashe was currently caressing your love handles. Sneering at the offending comments by the yapping calves.

“Shut the fuck up Gaeju, Qao, Linov! You lot talk a lot of shit for greenhorn guppies who can’t do nuthin without me.”

The leader snarled, whilst enjoying your squeals and pitiful cries for a break. Whenever his heavy balls slapped hard and fast against your swollen folds like a piston.

“Who do you think makes our bitch exude the most toxins hah? That’s right, me and my meat, this pussy’s swallowing up like an addict. Ya’ll better be grateful for riding off my coattails now piss off and lemme enjoy myself.”

He clicked with a scowl thrown at his pod. His huge hands gripped firmly onto your soft curves. Making sure his breeding bitch wouldn’t escape from his heavy knot splitting you open like a watermelon. Pumping more of his nut trail mix Into your gaping abused cunt.

—-/———/———/———

A/n: are y’all satisfied? You harem lovers lmao💀

[elainemorisi]

"like, did you forget you can just lie?!"

- my friend, an exasperated college professor, re: being asked... permission...? to... not do the spring break reading?

[delulustateofmind]

You Can't Just Play God

SatoSugu x Reader Inspired by a comic on Webtoon: Never Ending Darling and that one anon asking about how things would go if you were dating Geto and Gojo entered the relationship instead.

TW: No Curse AU/Modern Au, Horror? Yandere Behaviors (Obsessive, Possessive, Manipulation, Etc.), SatoSugu, Dubcon, Implied Noncon, Murder, Disturbing deaths, Blood, Gun violence, Reader Dies Multiple Times, smut, spooky lab tech (not used for smut), academic theft. MDNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

WC: 7.5k

Enjoy! I'm going to touch grass now :)

The cycle repeats.

A new age, a new era—and you had a goddamn headache.

The chimes of your alarm dragged you out of sleep, their shrill notes cutting through the haze clouding your mind. A groan slipped through your lips as you sluggishly threw an arm over your face as the sun’s obnoxiously bright rays streamed through your curtains, making everything somehow worse. Judging by the pounding in your skull, you had to assume you were hungover. Not that you could confirm it—these days, your memories were more like fragmented snapshots, and last night was no exception.

Reaching for your side table, you fumbled to silence the grating K.K. Slider alarm jingle that seemed ten times louder than usual. The sudden quiet was a relief, but only for a moment. Your groan deepened as you noticed the sweet note left behind by your boyfriend—no, fiancé. That term still felt foreign, awkward on your tongue.

“For the love of my life, please stop with your antics, sweet girl.” —Sugu.

Beside the note sat a neatly placed hangover tonic and a couple of pills, his familiar thoughtfulness easing some of the tension in your chest. You popped the pills and chased them with the tonic, grateful for his foresight, though the nagging truth lingered: you didn’t remember going out last night. At all.

The sensation wasn’t new, but it never got less unsettling. A blank space where memories should be. A creeping sense of unease settled over you as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your head throbbed with the effort, each beat of the headache a sharp reminder of how little control you seemed to have over your own life lately.

You padded downstairs in your pajamas, still half-asleep and half-questioning your existence. The familiar scent of breakfast wafted through the house, but it did little to clear the fog in your mind. Despite Suguru’s persistent efforts, you still lived at home with your parents. You’d insisted you weren’t ready to move in with him yet. He’d even offered to kick out his roommate and business partner—your college best friend, Gojo Satoru—to make space for you. You still said no.

“You’re so lucky to have a man like him, Y/N,” your mother chimed from the kitchen, her voice cutting through your haze. She stood by the stove, spatula in hand, her words laced with just enough mom judgment to make you wince. “He carried you home, helped you shower, and got you changed. You don’t find men like that anymore.”

You don't remember any of that however -

She wasn’t wrong. Somehow, you’d managed to score Geto Suguru, the golden boy of your university days and a literal campus heartthrob. Dreamy looks, a sharp mind, and a personality that could charm even the grumpiest professor. He was, by all accounts, perfect. A goddamn dreamboat. And all because you were friends—well, “friends”—with Gojo Satoru.

The term "friends" was generous. You’d been stuck with him for every group project and PhD research assignment imaginable, his sharp intellect rivaled only by his inability to take anything seriously. Yet, through some twist of fate, that irritating partnership had landed you Suguru.

And now, here you were: hungover, disoriented, and trying to piece together just how you’d gotten so lucky. Lucky wasn’t the right word—it was a miracle. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of miracle.

As you poured yourself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to last night than just drinks and laughter. Maybe you should stop drinking.

Because while you had a doctorate, had been part of some of the most groundbreaking research in the medical field, and somehow scored a partner who now co-owned one of the biggest medical organizations in the country…

You still didn’t have a real job.

Sure, you worked at a café on weekends, but that didn’t exactly scream “career success.” The smell of burnt espresso and sugary syrups clung to your clothes, and your paycheck barely covered your expenses and crippling student debt.

Suguru had been practically begging you to come work with him. He’d pitched every possible reason, his voice honey-smooth and infuriatingly persuasive. “We’d make a great team,” he’d say, always with that easy smile. Or, “You’d finally get to put that brilliant mind to use,” followed by a soft kiss on your forehead. And, of course, the practical approach: “You could stop getting burned by scalding coffee every other Saturday.”

But your answer never wavered. It was always a firm no.

Why should you take advantage of your boyfriend’s—fiancé’s—accomplishments? It wasn’t his fault you felt like a freeloader in your own life. But working with him would only cement that feeling, wouldn’t it? And let’s be honest: there was no way you could survive the smug, self-satisfied smirks Gojo Satoru would throw your way every. Single. Day.

The thought alone made your headache throb harder.

Your mother’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts—the kind of thoughts you really should’ve been saving for your therapist. “Did you hear me, Y/N? You’re lucky he even tolerates you living here at your age,” she quipped, half-joking, half-serious.

You sighed, forcing yourself back to the present as she set a plate of breakfast in front of you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if Suguru’s offer would ever stop looming over you.

“Can you bring Suguru his bento? Oh, and I made one for Satoru, too! You don’t bring him around anymore. I miss that cute smile of his,” your mother hummed, nodding toward the perfectly packed bento boxes lined up on the counter.

Dragging a hand down your face. At least running this errand was better than being stuck at home, drowning in wedding prep, and trying on half a million dresses your mom insisted on. “It’s the least you could do,” she always said, as if you weren’t already suffocating under the weight of your own existential dread.

“Sure,” you muttered, knowing resistance was futile. Besides, it wasn’t like you had any real plans today.

After a quick shower and throwing on something that looked presentable enough for public, you grabbed the bento boxes and headed out. The warm sunlight and cool breeze were a temporary reprieve, a small comfort as you made your way to their office—their office.

 It was better than the alternative of staying at home and listening to your mother’s words about floral centerpieces and seating arrangements. Barely.

Their company was part of this “new era,” the one everyone couldn’t stop raving about—and you’d been a huge part of its foundation. Back in the day, you and Satoru had cracked the code to altering DNA, finding a way to cheat death. If you could afford the astronomical price tag, mortality was no longer your concern. People who were once riddled with cancer could now return home cancer-free, spared the agony of losing limbs or enduring endless rounds of chemo.

You’d only been part of solving the formula, though. The groundwork. Satoru had the funding, the connections, and the relentless drive to take it further. Once you stepped out of the picture, you hadn’t kept track of the system or its progress. You didn’t ask, and no one offered answers.

The alteration had been applied to most of the foundational jobs—political leaders, police officers, high-ranking officials. It was a standard requirement now, a guarantee of longevity and efficiency in roles deemed too crucial to risk mortality.

These days, people were willing to go into crippling debt to get the procedure done, their desperation outweighing the staggering price. After all, what was a lifetime of debt if you couldn’t die? No risk of death meant no fear of defaulting, and for many, that trade-off was worth it.

The procedure had shifted society’s balance, turning death into a choice rather than an inevitability—but at a cost few truly understood.

The business was beginning to have a cult following after being backed by the world's leaders.

And yet, not everyone shared the world’s admiration for the scientific marvel housed within that towering, double-helix-shaped skyscraper in the heart of Tokyo. Protestors were a constant presence outside the building, their chants about ethics blending with the dramatic videos they displayed of humanity spiraling into chaos. You’d seen their demonstrations so many times it had faded into background noise.

Still, as you approached the sleek, futuristic entrance, a pang of guilt crept in. What had once been your passion now felt like a story you’d abandoned—a story that no longer felt like yours.

Maybe there was a hint of resentment buried beneath the guilt. Maybe, deep down, you wished you’d taken Satoru’s offer back then, even if you knew it wouldn’t have made things easier. But that was a door you’d slammed shut long ago, and no amount of hindsight could undo it.

Shaking your head to clear the thought, you stepped through the automatic doors. The familiar hum of the lobby enveloped you, the pristine white interior and futuristic decor unchanged since the last time you’d been here. Security nodded as you passed, their recognition swift and unquestioning.

The private elevator awaited a sleek capsule of steel and glass that carried you straight to the top floor. The ascent was smooth and silent, yet the weight in your chest grew heavier with every passing second.

There, you were greeted by Suguru’s stunning, sharp-eyed assistant. Even after countless encounters, Manami gave you that same unreadable look—like she was quietly sizing you up, or maybe judging you in some understated, professional way. It wasn’t outright rude, but it was just enough to make your skin crawl.

The treacherous thought crept into your mind, uninvited: Maybe he should be dating her instead. No—marrying her. She fit into his world so effortlessly. Polished, composed, and clearly brilliant, Manami seemed like the perfect match for someone as successful and poised as Suguru. Meanwhile, you still felt like a guest who’d overstayed their welcome, fumbling to keep up in a world that wasn’t yours.

It was a ridiculous thought, and you knew it. Late-night Reddit doom-scrolling had reassured you that insecurities like this were perfectly normal, even if they were soul-crushingly embarrassing. Deep down, you understood that your so-called “little life” wasn’t the problem. The problem was you—stuck in your own head, drowning in doubts that never seemed to let up.

But no matter how loud the voice in your head got, one thing you couldn’t ignore: Suguru would never leave you. You were sure of that. If anything, he clung to you like his life depended on it—unfortunately. And for reasons you couldn’t quite put into words, that unwavering devotion only made it harder to believe you deserved him.

You shifted awkwardly in the too-fancy armchair across from Manami’s desk, clutching the bag of bentos like it might save you from drowning. “Nice weather we’re having,” you mumbled, trying to fill the heavy silence with small talk.

Manami barely glanced up, her manicured fingers pausing just long enough to adjust the nameplate on her desk before resuming their rhythmic clatter against her keyboard.

“Hm,” she hummed, a noncommittal response that somehow managed to sound both polite and dismissive at the same time.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at her. The room, much like the rest of the building, was sleek and pristine, designed to impress. But the air felt heavy, the quiet tension between you and Manami a constant reminder that this wasn’t your world. It was theirs.

And you weren’t sure you’d ever truly belong.

You sighed, muttering a quiet “Alright,” under your breath, and returned to fidgeting with the straps of the bag. Your eyes wandered down to the weight on your left hand—the engagement ring.

It was stunning. Too stunning. The kind of ring that screamed wealth and class, the kind that seemed like it should belong to someone like her. Another insecure thought, you supposed, but brushing it off was easier said than done. The gnawing doubt settled deep in the pit of your stomach, refusing to budge. Perhaps another conversation to save for your therapist. 

The soft click of a door unlocking snapped you out of your spiral. You looked up to see Suguru stepping out, his familiar, easy smile lighting up his face as his dark eyes landed on you. The way his gaze swept over you still sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. Even after all this time, he still had that effect on you.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he murmured warmly, his voice low and soothing as he extended a hand toward you.

You stepped forward, slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm yet tender, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. He gave your hand a small squeeze before adding, “You could’ve waited with Satoru, you know. He misses you.”

The mention of Satoru made your skin crawl. Missed you? That was one way of putting it. You were marrying Suguru, yet Satoru still didn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space. No matter how often you tried to address it, he always found a way to push the boundaries.

The casual hand lingering too long on your thigh. The hugs that felt tighter and lasted longer than they should. The kisses to your cheek that came far too often to be innocent.

You’d brought it up to Suguru so many times, and his response was always the same, a calm dismissal wrapped in a reassuring smile: “He’s harmless.”

But it didn’t feel harmless to you. Not even close.

Once inside Suguru’s office, you set the bag of bentos down on his desk, taking a step back to collect yourself. Before you could settle, he was already there. The door clicked shut behind him, his long, purposeful strides closing the space between you in seconds.

You barely had time to react before his lips crashed into yours, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into his arms. The force of the kiss left you breathless, his presence overwhelming as his fingers pressed against the fabric of your shirt.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his tone softer now, the affection in his voice sending a familiar heat blooming in your chest.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him, into the comfort of his touch. He always felt safe. A fuel for comfort perhaps. 

“You were such a mess last night,” he murmured against your lips, trailing kisses down to your neck as he pushed you to sit on the edge of his desk. His hands guided your legs around his waist, holding you close as he continued his slow assault of affection. You swallowed hard against the tightness in your throat.

“You’re lucky your friend called me,” he added softly, his words brushing against your skin like a tease.

Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back as his lips moved down the column of your neck. You’d learned not to push him away when he got like this—it always left you feeling guilty afterward.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Suguru’s fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, his hands warm and conscious as he hiked up your skirt. You shivered under his touch, the chill of the room clashing with the heat of his hands.

“Can we not do this with your assistant in the other room?” you managed to ask meekly, your voice wavering as his fingertips trailed over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m having a rough day, my love,” he murmured against your throat, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t get much sleep after taking care of you last night. I need a little motivation to get through the rest of my day.”

Before you could respond, he gently eased you to lay back on his desk. It was then you realized it had been cleared—papers, files, and everything else neatly tucked away. Had he planned for this?

His lips continued their path down your body, leaving soft kisses and the occasional nip as he went. When he reached the space between your legs, he spread them carefully with his hands, his gaze lingering on you as if savoring every moment.

His tongue pressed against your clothed slit, sending a jolt of heat through your core.

“You’re not wearing the ones I bought you,” he noted, his voice low and teasing.

He was right. Instead of the delicate, expensive pieces he favored—like that itchy white G-string with the little gold charm bearing his initials “G.S”—you’d gone for the practical, cost-effective option: simple cotton underwear from a multipack.

“Wanted to be—” Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed against you, light and teasing, pulling the words from your throat before you could even finish.

“Wanted to be what?” he repeated, his voice dripping with honeyed amusement. His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it—a quiet demand. “Weren’t you taught to finish your sentences?”

The vibrations of his words sent another wave of shivers through you, and your body betrayed you, squirming under his touch. He hummed in approval, the sound low and indulgent as his hand trailed up your inner thigh, his fingers left your skin tingling in their wake.

With practiced ease, he pulled your panties to the side, his lips trailing soft, feather-light kisses along your skin. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and began to devour you, his tongue hot and insistent, moving with volitional precision that made your back arch against the cool surface of his desk.

It was overwhelming—the way his long tongue slid inside you, the way his thumb circled your most sensitive spot with just the right amount of pressure. He moved as though he had all the time in the world, savoring every moment.

You couldn’t help the soft, pathetic moans that escaped your lips, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for some semblance of stability. Suguru had always been like this—relentless, thorough, and determined to reach every spot that made you unravel.

It wasn’t just physical. He had you memorized. Every shiver, every gasp, every sound you made only spurred him on, his movements calculated to draw out your pleasure until your mind was spinning.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

His words made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions bubbling to the surface. Love, longing, and something you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to believe his devotion was just that—devotion. But there was a weight to his words, an intensity that sometimes felt... suffocating.

He didn’t stop until your body trembled beneath him, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. Suguru lifted his head, his lips glistening as he looked at you with a satisfied smirk. “See?” he whispered, his voice impossibly soft. “I know exactly what you need.”

And you believed him. How could you not, when he made you feel like this? Like you were the center of his world, the only thing that mattered.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “So, so good.”

In your haze, still trembling from your last orgasm, you felt the blunt, heated tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs. 

“Gotta ease up for me, sweet girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with restraint as he pushed forward, sinking into you inch by girthy inch. The stretch made your breath hitch, your body fluttering around him, still sensitive and raw.

“It’s not gonna feel good if you don’t relax,” he cooed, though his tone carried a sense of control, a reminder that he wasn’t stopping until he had all of you. Whether it hurt or not.

You did your best to loosen the tension in your body, focusing on the soft kisses he pressed against your lips, your cheeks, and the corner of your jaw. They were meant to soothe, but the way he moved—rolling his hips upward, grinding deep—made it impossible to fully relax.

His cock filled you completely, brushing against every spot that left your mind spiraling. The slow, deliberate way he moved, the way he stretched you open, had your hands scrambling for purchase on his desk. Your nails clawed at the wood, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they left permanent marks. Something you were sure he wouldn’t mind. 

“That’s it,” Suguru whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Taking me so well, sweet girl. Like you were made for this.”

Every thrust was deliberate, deep, and measured, as though he wanted to etch the feeling of him into every fiber of your being. He lifted his head to watch your face, his dark eyes locked on yours, taking in every gasp, every quiver, every plea that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice dripping with affection as he cupped your cheek with one hand, the other still gripping your thigh, firm yet gentle as if he was afraid to leave a mark on you despite the harshness of his thrusts. “You’re perfect. So perfect for me.”

Your mind was overwhelmed, the sensations blurring together as his movements became more insistent, relentless in their devotion to unraveling you. Yet, through the haze of pleasure, a small, unwelcome thought surfaced, bubbling up in the back of your mind.

When was the last time you took your pill?

The question lingered, sharp and intrusive, cutting through the heat pooling in your core. You’d been forgetting so much lately—little things, big things, all slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. But it had to be fine. It must be a safe day. Right?

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and low as his hips pressed flush against yours, burying himself to the hilt. “Don’t ever forget that.”

As the words sank in, a faint voice in the back of your mind tried to warn you, tried to remind you of the way Suguru sometimes felt too much. But it was drowned out by the overwhelming mix of his touch, his words, and the way he seemed to pour his entire being into you.

You couldn’t say it back. Whether it was the overwhelming heat, the way you could only let out these broken little whines and moans as your body trembled beneath him, or the way his hot, sticky release spilled deep inside you, filling you up until you couldn’t think straight—you just couldn’t utter those three little words. Some little voice in the back of your mind urged you not to. 

After a moment’s rest, with him carefully cleaning you up, you noticed the delicate way he helped you into some fancy lingerie—pieces he apparently had stored just for moments like this. The charm with “G.S” engraved on it caught the sunlight, glinting mischievously as he slid the panties up your legs.

“Shall we eat with Satoru?” he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life. You could only nod mindlessly, clinging to his arm while he reached for the bag.

You didn’t miss the way Satoru hugged you when you walked into his office, Suguru trailing behind. The way his arms lingered around you just a little too long, his lips brushing your cheek in what felt like more than a friendly kiss. Suguru didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care. It was Satoru, after all. His best friend. His business partner. The two were inseparable.

You also didn’t miss the way Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders while the three of you ate. Suguru and Satoru were caught up in their conversation, filling each other in on meetings and plans, while you picked at your food in silence. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the strange mix of sensations you couldn’t shake. The cum soaking into the new underwear, the lingering fog in your head, the circles Satoru traced on your arm as he kept you close. Your gaze flickered to the photo on his desk—a snapshot of the three of you. Perfect smiles. Perfect lies.

“Did you hear me, sugar?” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, his tone teasing. “I was asking how the job search was going. You know, we could always work together again—for old times’ sake.”

You shook your head, forcing a meek smile. “I haven’t heard anything back yet. And the answer’s still no. I’m not into... medical research anymore.”

That was a lie. You were more than capable, but you didn’t want to work with them. You didn’t want to stay stuck in their shadow, even though you’d helped lay the foundation they thrived on.

Satoru chuckled, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly confident grin. The way his bright blue eyes glimmered with a glint of mischief. “Still so stubborn. You know, you were the brains behind half of what we’ve built. You’d fit right back in.”

Suguru’s voice cut in smoothly as if to diffuse any tension. “Let her breathe, Satoru. Not everyone is as obsessed with work as you are.” Suguru’s dark eyes settled on you for a brief moment, there was warmth to them, unreadable as always. 

You glanced between them, their banter as familiar as it was unsettling. They made it look so effortless, this balance of power and charm. But you knew better. You felt it in the way Satoru’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on your arm, in the fleeting glance Suguru shot your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

The rest of the meal passed in a haze, their conversation blending into the background. You couldn’t shake the unease curling in your stomach. It wasn’t just the situation—it was them. The way they moved around you like you were something precious and fragile, seamlessly passing control back and forth, a trophy they both claimed but never outright acknowledged.

When the meal ended, Satoru stood, stretching lazily before offering you his hand. “Why don’t you come with me for a bit? I’ve got something to show you.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking to Suguru, who had already risen and was watching you closely. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his tone unreadable. “I’ll clean up here.”

Caught between the two of them, you nodded and took Satoru’s hand. His grip was firm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent an involuntary made your skin crawl. He led you out of the office and down a hallway you knew all too well. His space. His domain. His lab. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and Satoru turned, his impossibly blue eyes locking onto yours, as sharp as ever. “You’ve been distant,” he said softly, his words gentle but edged with something sharper. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your gaze drifted over the room, landing on the metal tables scattered with sleek technology. Computer screens hummed with life, displaying endless rows of code, their glow casting faint shadows across the walls. This used to be your life—back in college, when the hum of processors and the thrill of breakthroughs consumed you. Now, it all felt foreign, like a distant memory you weren’t sure you wanted to revisit.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept a distance,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to betray your nerves. “I’m marrying Suguru, you know.”

The words hung in the air, a barrier you hoped he wouldn’t cross. But Satoru, being Satoru, ignored it entirely. You felt his warmth behind you before you even realized he’d moved, his tall frame enveloping yours in an embrace that felt far too intimate. His hands rested lightly on your stomach, his touch burning through the fabric of your clothes. You stiffened as his breath fanned against your neck, raising goosebumps along your skin.

“Sharing is caring,” he hummed, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine. “Suguru doesn’t mind. In fact…” His fingers tightened slightly, grounding you in place. “He likes it when we get along.”

Before you could respond, you felt the wet warmth of his tongue trace along your jaw. The sensation jolted through you, a yelp escaping your lips before you could stop it. Satoru’s laugh followed, soft and boyish, a stark contrast to the tension suffocating the room.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “But you don’t need to fight it. We both know you don’t really want me to stop.”

His words left you frozen, the weight of his overwhelming presence pressing down on you, suffocating yet intoxicating. Do you want him to stop? 

A fleeting memory surfaced as you stood there, frozen in Satoru’s embrace. It was from the early days of your relationship with Suguru when you’d first brought up Satoru’s antics. You’d been hesitant, unsure how to address the way his lingering touches or overly familiar words made you feel. Suguru had only smiled, his voice calm and reassuring as always.

Suguru’s calm voice had soothed you then, his words steady and reassuring. “He’s harmless,” he’d said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as if amused by your concern. “He knows, at the end of the day, you’re mine. Plus, the guy is ridiculously lonely. You’re his friend. He’s just comfortable around you.”

The words had settled over you like a balm back then, quelling your unease. Suguru’s confidence, his sense of control, had made it easy to brush off the way Satoru’s presence lingered in your life—always just a little closer than necessary.

But now, as Satoru’s lips brushed against your ear, as his arms anchored you in place, that memory felt distant. Suguru’s reassurance no longer felt like a safety net; it felt like permission. Permission for Satoru to blur the lines, to push boundaries that had never been as firm as you thought.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Satoru’s voice pulled you back to the present, his tone soft but knowing. His hands tightened slightly around your waist, a subtle reminder of his control of the situation. “It’s sweet, really. You always look so soft when you’re thinking about Suguru.”

You tried to pull away, but he only held you closer, his chuckle vibrating against your back. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just keeping you warm. You’re the one who’s overthinking.”

Your heart pounded as you struggled to steady your breath. “This isn’t right, Satoru,” you managed, though your voice sounded weaker than you intended. “Suguru—”

“Suguru trusts me,” he interrupted, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “And you, too. That’s what makes this work, doesn’t it?” He shifted slightly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “He said it himself—you’re mine, too.”

You wanted to believe it was just another one of Satoru’s games, another way for him to twist the truth to suit his desires. But the memory of Suguru’s calm, reassuring voice lingered as if Suguru had already told you—subtly, indirectly—that Satoru had his permission.

though as of late it seemed like memories all seemed to blur together.

Your instincts screamed at you to leave. To get out of this room. To get away from him. From the person who used to be your friend, your lab partner. The one who would sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study while sneaking glances at your coffee-stained notes. The guy who’d playfully nudged you into Suguru’s arms, making it all seem so easy. Was this all some kind of cruel fate?

“I have to pee,” you blurted out, the excuse too loud, too sudden, and too weak to be convincing.

Satoru didn’t seem to care. He eased back slightly, leaning casually against his desk, his ever-present smirk still in place. “Need me to walk you there?” he asked, his voice light, teasing—but his eyes betrayed him. That hungry look in his gaze lingered, stripping away any illusion of innocence.

“I’ll manage,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound calm.

You didn’t miss the look in his eyes—hungry, possessive. Like he didn’t care that Suguru had touched you first. The thought of Suguru’s “seconds” didn’t bother him at all. As if plunging his cock into the leftovers of Suguru's cum would be a delicacy. If anything, it seemed to excite him, and the realization made bile rise up to the back of your throat. Burning. Searing. 

“Alright,” he said with a lovesick grin that might’ve been charming to anyone else. “I’ll have Suguru meet us here.”

For most girls, a man like Satoru was a dream—handsome, confident, untouchable. And he knew it. So did Suguru. Yet they both clung to you, always hovering just a little too close.

Satoru and Suguru had always clung to you, hadn’t they? From the beginning, you’d been their constant. Their focus. You wondered why that was—why they always had, and why they always would.

As soon as the lab door clicked shut behind you, the words hung heavy in your mind, echoing like a haunting refrain. It’s not assault if he didn’t do anything, right? That’s what you told yourself, over and over, as your breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts. You sprinted down the endless hallways, your heels clicking against the tile, your heart pounding in your chest. But no matter how fast you ran, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen, and nausea churned with every step.

You clutched at the memory of your friendship with Satoru, desperate for solace. He wasn’t always like this. He was your study partner, your confidant, the one who nudged you toward Suguru when you doubted yourself. But now? The person you once trusted felt like a stranger—no, worse, a threat.

Your head pounded, and the memories came.

At first, they were warm, and tender. Satoru laughed as he leaned over your desk, swiping your notes and teasing you about your messy handwriting before planting a kiss on your lips. Suguru sitting beside you on some date, drinking hot cocoa together while watching the rain. The three of you tangled together on a couch, their arms around you, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep in their warmth.

Suguru brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft as he whispered, “You’re everything to me.” Satoru, his grin wide and mischievous, spinning you in circles during a rainstorm, both of you drenched and laughing.

The sweetness eventually curdled.

Satoru’s hand tightening around your throat, his blue eyes blazing with something unreadable. “You don’t get to leave me,” he murmured, his tone eerily calm as you clawed at his arms. Suguru holding a syringe, his voice soothing even as your body betrayed you, muscles seizing as the world faded to black.

You shook your head, gasping for air, but the images continued to assault you.

These memories can't belong to you.

Satoru pressing kisses to your temple as he whispered, “I’ll always protect you, sugar bear,” the warmth of his embrace lulling you into safety. Suguru kneeling in front of you, a ring in hand, his voice trembling as he said, “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

The images were overwhelming, suffocating even, like a weight pressing down on your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you sprinted down the endless halls, your heels clicking against the cold tile.

Occasionally, your legs faltered, forcing you to clutch at the nearest wall for support. Every step felt heavier, every breath harder to draw, as the haunting echoes of laughter and whispered promises mixed with screams and soft, deadly apologies. They chased you, just as real as the walls closing in around you.

Suguru standing over you, a gun in his hand, his dark eyes filled with something that looked almost like regret. “You always fight me on this” he whispered, and the shot rang out. Satoru’s voice, lilting and light, as he said, “Let’s see if you fly,” before pushing you off the rooftop, the sensation weightless and brief until impact.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head as if you could banish the images. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

You stumbled into a random room, your fingers trembling as you punched in the passcode—your birthday, of course. The door clicked open with a mechanical hiss, and you collapsed inside, your knees hitting the cold, tiled floor. The sterile air burned your nose, the faint scent of chemicals making the knot in your stomach twist tighter.

The dim blue light cast eerie shadows across the walls, the occasional beep of nearby machines the only sound besides your ragged breathing. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaking down your face as you tried to push the memories away.

Were they real?

Could they be real?

The warmth of their love clashed with the cold edge of their possessiveness, leaving you adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, filled with glowing blue and green liquids, their contents swirling lazily as if alive. The machines beeped rhythmically, lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

But the images were relentless. Suguru’s hands pinning you down, Satoru taking free use of your body, the weight of their combined presence crushing you until you could barely breathe.

Each memory was like some cruel nightmare, swinging wildly between moments too sweet to bear and others excruciatingly painful. The contrast made it all the worse, the warmth of one memory twisting into agony in the next, leaving you gasping for air as you stumbled forward. Broken sobs escaped your throat as you crumpled to the floor, grasping at the cold tiles, desperate for something—anything—real.

You wiped your eyes with trembling hands, blinking through the haze of tears. The room around you slowly came into focus, and your breath hitched. Large test tubes lined the walls, their glowing blue and green contents swirling lazily, almost hypnotically, as if alive. Machines beeped rhythmically in the background, their lights flashing in a pattern you couldn’t decipher.

You stared at the tubes, your mind racing. This wasn’t a random lab. It couldn’t be. The passcode, the eerie familiarity of the room—it all felt deliberate, intentional. Like you were meant to find this.

Your headache worsened, the pounding in your skull syncing eerily with the beeping machines. You pressed your palms to your temples, desperately trying to shut out the relentless wave of memories—real or imagined—that threatened to consume you.

But as you knelt there, shaking and breathless, one question clawed its way to the forefront of your mind, sharp and insistent, refusing to be silenced.

Why had they always clung to you?

And why did it feel like the answer was hidden somewhere in this room?

You had to be going crazy. That was the only explanation.

Shakily, you pushed yourself to your feet, the sterile air thick and heavy in your lungs. Sniffling, your fingers trailed along the cold, metallic surface of the tables as you moved closer to the strange test tubes. The faint hum of machinery filled the silence, the swirling contents inside the tubes illuminated by the dim, eerie glow of blue light.

Your breath hitched as you leaned in, squinting through the glass.

They weren’t just shapes or fragments. They weren’t abstractions of human life.

They were human.

They were you.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs as you stumbled back. Your gaze darted to the screen beside the tubes, its sterile, blinking message driving the truth deeper into your chest.

"Processing."

The word repeated in steady intervals, cold and mechanical, mocking you with its efficiency.

This wasn’t a lab for curing diseases or advancing medicine. This wasn’t about saving lives.

They were cloning people.

They were cloning you.

Your knees threatened to give out again, but you gripped the edge of the table, your mind spinning wildly. Fragments of memories, half-formed and blurry, clawed their way to the surface, demanding to be seen. This had been your research once. Cloning. You’d cracked the formula—found the key.

You remembered the argument with Satoru, his icy blue eyes flashing with a rare seriousness. You’d told him it was unethical. That it wasn’t righteous. That you can’t just play god. You told him you couldn’t live with what you’d discovered. That’s why you stopped. That’s why you stopped talking to him. That’s why you left research behind.

But what happened after that?

How had they gotten here—this point, with a cult-like following and resources beyond comprehension? And more importantly—where had you been?

The questions tore at you, each one heavier than the last. Pieces of your memory felt missing, like someone had reached into your mind and carved out chunks, leaving you with only jagged fragments.

Had they done this to you?

Had he done this to you?

And then, the darkest question of all clawed its way to the surface:

How many times have they done this to you?

Your gaze snapped back to the endless row of tubes, bile rising in your throat as the enormity of it hit you. Backed-up versions of you floated in a dreamless stasis, stripped of identity, reduced to nothing but a tool for their ambitions.

The room spun, the walls closing in, as the truth pressed down on you—suffocating, undeniable.

You weren’t just a researcher who’d stumbled too close to the edge.

You were the edge.

And somehow, they’d dragged you right back into it.

The realization shattered whatever fragile control you had left. Sobs erupted from your throat, raw and unrelenting, as the pounding headache in your skull grew louder, sharper, threatening to split you in two. The sterile hum of the lab faded beneath the weight of your anguish, until—

Crack.

The sharp, deafening sound of a gunshot shattered everything.

You didn’t even have time to react.

The world went dark.

“Guess we’ll have to start all over again tomorrow,” Suguru’s voice hummed, smooth and almost tender, as though he were speaking to a wayward child. “Satoru will be disappointed, but it looks like this version of you wasn’t going as well anyway.”

His footsteps echoed in the eerie stillness, unhurried and deliberate, as he approached the bloodied mess you’d become.

He crouched down beside you, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of pity and resolve. The gun fell from his hand with a hollow clatter, the sound reverberating through the cold room like an accusation.

“You should really stop with all your antics, sweet girl,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that felt almost cruel. “It’s really heartbreaking to do this every time your brilliant mind starts to turn.”

Suguru’s hand lingered, disturbingly gentle as he smoothed your hair back, his touch so intimate it made your skin crawl—if you’d still had the strength to feel anything.

“You always fight so hard,” he said softly, almost like a lament. His gaze drifted over your still form, dark and unreadable. “But you know how this ends. You always know.”

He straightened slowly, letting his words settle in the suffocating silence.

“And yet, you never stop trying.”

Straightening, Suguru cast a glance at the tubes glowing faintly in the dim light behind him. His lips curled into a faint, almost tender smile, one that never quite reached his dark eyes. “Don’t worry,” he murmured softly, his tone as much for himself as it was for you. “We’ll put you back together again. Just like always.”

He knelt down, unhurried, his movements precise. His fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully slid the ring from your finger, the gesture deliberate, almost reverent. For a moment, he stared at the ring in his palm, his thumb tracing the smooth band. Something flickered in his gaze—regret, perhaps, or something far more calculated. He tucked the ring into his pocket with a quiet sigh.

A quick call to the “clean-up” crew followed. His voice was calm, clinical, as if he were ordering mundane office supplies rather than orchestrating the erasure of a life. The conversation ended with a sharp click, his phone slipping back into his jacket pocket.

Suguru cast another glance at the bloodied mess on the floor, his lips tugging into a sad, almost bittersweet smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, his tone heartbreakingly sincere, as though the words could absolve the horror of what had just transpired. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned, his fingers playing with the ring in his pocket, twirling it absentmindedly as if it were a trinket rather than a symbol of promises now rendered hollow. The door hissed shut behind him, the sterile room sealing itself in silence.

The hum of the machines was the only sound that remained, indifferent to the gruesome tableau they overlooked.

[themuseofaphrodite]

know that you and i shouldn’t feel like a crime ✧ OP81

summary: after viewing a series of viral tiktoks, you decide to partake in the “hear me out” cake trend with your very wary boyfriend.

trigger warnings: suggestive & mature content, swearing

word count: 1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

One of your most surprising qualities was that you were a TikTok fiend, especially since you were usually down to earth and didn’t use your phone much in public — but for good reason. Your “For You” page was filled with some of the weirdest, wackiest things: dangerous extreme sport challenges, odd filters used on pets for a quick laugh… the list could go on. Each video was a perfect way to destroy your reputation as the effortlessly suave McLaren princess.

You slouched on the creaky recliner next to Oscar Piastri, your boyfriend of almost three years, and sighed loudly, garnering his attention immediately. He was perfectly attuned to your every movement and breath, which was why you liked him so much. Nothing was worse than a nonchalant man, and Oscar was anything but that.

“Hm, darling? Everything OK?” Oscar looked up at you from where he was sitting, pausing the television with a careless flick of his hand. “It’s getting late, maybe you’re tired? You did have a long day.”

You shrugged one shoulder, feigning coolness. “No, I’m fine, I’m not tired. I just have an idea.”

Oscar raised one eyebrow, already on alert. That last sentence always warned him that something was afoot, and nine times out of ten, it was never anything good. “Oh, no. What now?”

“There’s a trend going around” — this made Oscar visibly tense, a vein in his neck going taut as he waited for you to continue. He disliked the viral pranks and never laughed at any of them, to your dismay — “and I was hoping you’d be willing to participate in one of them with me?” You batted your eyelashes, giving him puppy dog eyes, a trick you knew he couldn’t resist.

“If my mates find out about this,” he warned you, waving a finger menacingly at you like a stereotypical villain. “No posting this like you did last time.” You stifled a laugh at the thought of the last prank you engaged in, and the way it had broken the Internet when you posted it on social media. Oscar had not forgiven you, and it had been almost a year.

You shook your head solemnly, extending your pinky finger out to him so he would interlock his own in an unspoken vow. “I promise you I won’t post it.”

“Good.” He pursed his lips, obviously remembering the media disaster that had unfolded last time. McLaren had not been happy with him in the slightest, to say the least. He was still making it up to them even now. “What’s the trend?”

You edged yourself closer to him, tilting your chin conspiratorially and speaking in a low whisper. “Hear me out.”

Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed, clueless. He scrolled through TikTok very rarely, mainly preferring to stick to television, and sometimes Instagram reels, so he had no idea what you were talking about. “Pardon?”

“So, basically,” you explained, your voice bright with mischief, “you have to think of a few characters, or people, that you think are attractive, although others might disagree with you. For example, hear me out,” you started, a moment’s pause between your response. “Bumblebee from Transformers.”

Oscar’s jaw dropped as the name clicked. “The robot? You want to tell me that you find a machine attractive?”

“He’s protective and sweet, and has really good music taste,” you defended, pouting.

“Goddamn, Y/N, starting off strong.” Oscar hummed under his breath, thinking. “Hear me out, Megan Fox but in Jennifer’s Body.”

You groaned loudly, annoyed. “That’s not a ‘hear me out’. Everyone agrees that Megan Fox in that film was beautiful. It has to be something unhinged, like, hear me out” — you clucked your tongue, pondering over the various choices floating around in your mind — “the Goldfish cracker on the front of the bag.”

Oscar made a distinct choking noise, his face flushing red. “An animal? God, Y/N. I should report you to the police so they can put you behind bars.”

You swatted him on the shoulder, barely missing him since his reflexes were superhuman. “Try again, Osc. Really shock me with this next one, please.”

“Hear me out…Belle from Beauty and the Beast.” Oscar waited for your approval, and you sighed, throwing your hands up in the air in surrender. “What? How was that not good? She’s a cartoon!”

“Everyone loves Belle! She’s fierce, intelligent, and stunning. All qualities that are conventionally attractive!” You shook your head. “Come on. Hear me out, a string bass.”

Oscar’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “What the — Please tell me you’re joking, love. There’s no way you could find an instrument attractive.”

“A bass is tall, deep-pitched, and mysterious. Just what I like in a man.” You beamed up at him. “OK, Oscar. Don’t disappoint me.”

He side-eyed you, tapping his fingers on his lap as he thought. “I have one.” You watched him with bated breath, hoping that he would finally catch on. “Hear me out, Sydney Sweeney, in general.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I give up, Oscar. I should’ve known that this wouldn’t have worked. Lando would be so much better to do this with… Let me ask him if he’s free.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, pulling you onto his lap before you could escape, and giving you a quick peck to your lips. “Sorry, darling. Better luck next time?”

You huffed. “Whatever, Oscar. I forgot you were an inadequate, basic white boy.”

Oscar nudged his nose against your jaw, whispering in a husky, deep voice. “Hear me out, my girlfriend, Y/N L/N. She might be batshit crazy sometimes, but she’s absolutely breathtaking. When she’s underneath me, begging for my cock like a good girl? It’s a fucking work of art.”

You suppressed a shiver, looping your arm and burying yourself against him, arousal dancing under your skin. “Fuck, OK. You win.”

He kissed you again, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Oh, I know. I always do. Future world champion, remember?”

“Arrogant prick,” you muttered, but your curses were swallowed up by a new wave of kisses Oscar pressed against your lips.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[delirious-donna]

Kento finds your journal and vows to return it, but not before he accidentally sneaks a peek… or, the time he read that you wanted to climb him like a tree.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

tw: embarrassing situations, teacher Kento and teacher reader, thigh riding, use of pet names (darling and sweetheart), dirty talk, Kento being more forward than usual, rewrite of an old story (it’s better now, promise), brief appearance of Satoru

The notebook caught his eye; magenta in colour, clearly well-thumbed and definitely not meant to be here, in the teacher’s lounge. He rolled his neck against the uncomfortably lumpy couch until the cracking noise of stiff joints popping made him wince.

With a resigned grunt, Kento sat forward and glanced at his watch.

His next class was due to begin in ten minutes and if he were honest, he felt rather unmotivated to inspire the next generation on this particular day, a feeling that was becoming painfully regular. Fixing the knot of his tie, which he had loosened upon entering the lounge, he lamented on how every day seemed to bleed into each other.

It had been so stiflingly long since anything new or of interest had occurred and he was starting to feel drained from the mundane, walking through each day like a zombie. Heaven help him, it was a frighteningly familiar feeling.

On his way towards the door, he picked up the offending notebook that was stuck between the couch cushions and glanced at it curiously. Your name was emblazoned on the front cover, written in glittery silver ink. Nanami passed a finger over the lettering, his lips tilting into a thin smile at how irreverent it appeared.

He knew you were a few years younger than he was, that you had only become a teacher at the start of this academic year after a sudden change in career, and to say you were a little shy would be a gross understatement. Kento could probably count the times you had spoken to him on one hand, and each one had been a rushed experience, as if you couldn’t wait to retreat from his presence–was he really that intimidating?

At that rather depressing thought, he resumed walking, intent on delivering your notebook before arriving at his own classroom to greet his darling little bastards charges for the afternoon lecture.

Of course, things would never be that simple, nor straightforward when you worked alongside Satoru Gojo.

The white-haired whirlwind hurtled into him as soon as he ventured into the hall. A barking laugh bounced off the walls as Gojo clapped him heartily on the back and effectively knocked the notebook from his grasp to flutter to the floor.

“Ah, Nanami-san, just the man I was looking for,” he thundered. “Could you do your bestest friend in the whole world a favour?”

“If you are referring to yourself with that sentiment, Gojo, then the answer is of course, no.”

Satoru pouted, Kento grimaced.

Celestial blue eyes peered over the rim of his round sunglasses whilst Kento bent to retrieve the book that had tumbled out of his hands and was now spread open at his feet. His eyes narrowed on the hastily scrawled text that he couldn’t quite make out, but… that was his name that he was staring at.

He was aware that Satoru was still talking, the man would continue to ramble away to himself forever, but Kento held his hand aloft to cease the incessant drone.

A strange, but not unpleasant heat coursed through his veins, and something he hadn’t felt in the longest time stirred in his chest. The wild thump of his heart drowned out his pesky colleague’s yammering as he was finally able to read the line of text that referred to him. A sentence that you had hastily scrawled and then ringed again and again with a fluffy cloud border.

Why does Nanami-san have to be so goddamn big and sexy? What I wouldn’t give to climb him like a tree…

He was sure that he could feel the warmth spread up his neck, his collar suddenly too tight, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the runny saliva pooling inside his mouth.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t admired you, although always from afar. He knew he wasn’t the most social of men, a sentiment his annoying friend constantly reminded him of. Added to the fact that Kento had been sure you were terrified of him, and he had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable, he kept his distance and his daydreaming to himself and the privacy of his bedroom and shower.

Only now, did he wonder if that discomfort had been something else entirely…

“Will you do it?” Satoru asked, shaking his arms with his long spindly fingers and offering a wide cocky smile.

“I wasn’t listening, and no. I’m going to be busy,” he replied, brushing his fellow teacher’s hand from his forearms and pushing past him to his classroom.

He could care less for the deflated look that the snowy-haired menace threw over his shoulder, there were more important matters on his mind and a knowing smirk curved his lips. The smirk was mirrored by the very man he gave his back to, and that was just fine in his book.

No longer did he detour to return the notebook. Oh no--he’d deliver it back to you safe and sound once the day was over and everyone else had cleared out.

~

It had been a long day. A tiring one too, and the prospect of spending your precious evening hours behind your desk marking exams and writing assignment commentary was unwelcome.

As if the universe could hear your lament, they sent you a curve ball you could never see coming…

A determined knock shook you from your thoughts. The pen in your hand fell to the desk at the same moment you leaned back in your chair, inviting your unexpected visitor to enter.

Your mouth ran dry as the very man you least expected to be calling in on you, walked inside. Least expected but most wanted, secretly, of course. There was no way you were earning yourself a reputation for flirting with your colleagues, even if he was so painfully handsome it made you chew the insides of your cheeks every time you were in his presence. Not because you were shy, because you were a little, but because you didn’t trust what might come out of your mouth! Best to keep those thoughts inside your head where they were safe.

Kento turned to shut the door, the lock flicking silently into place so as to avoid any embarrassing interruptions, before he bowed his head in greeting.

“Nanami-san, what can I do for you?” you asked, impressed that you had managed to speak without tripping over your words. It was certainly an improvement on previous attempts.

It was near impossible not to admire him as he stood near the back of the class. The collar of his azure dress shirt had been loosened, the tie askew as if he had been pulling at them both with insistent fingers. Fingers that were currently drumming against the taut muscles of his forearms. There was something about a man with his sleeves rolled to the elbows that never failed to send you into a feral kind of heat, and right now was no different.

Why did he have to look so downright tantalising? Why did your thighs have to clench together like you were some horny beast in an actual heat?

The aloof expression, the way that he seemed to caress you with his hazel eyes and the simple pleasure of how big he was. At the end of the day, you were no better than an animal, and you animal brain was saying that big was good. Big would rock your world given the chance.

“I found something that belongs to you and thought I should return it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh? That’s kind of you, what is it?”

You wondered what he could have found, mentally scanning your memory of something you might have misplaced or been looking for. Standing, you took two steps forward but froze in place at the sight of your personal notebook held in his large hand. Surely your heart had seized in your chest, it certainly felt like it had.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

Your eyes widened, looking from the notebook to his face and back again. For a second you thought your silent pleas had been answered, but when had life ever been so benevolent to you before? Kento winked almost imperceptibly, and you wished that a sink hole would form beneath your feet to save you from this mortification.

Heat rose to your cheeks in rushing waves. You swayed unsteadily on the spot with your hand outstretched for the book, desperate for some distance but needing the offending item back in your possession.

Kento chuckled and the deep baritone rumble felt as if the sound resonated within your own body. It stroked at you with exploratory phantom touches although he hadn’t moved. Your every muscle tightened whilst you waited for him to hand over the notebook that held some of your wildest fantasies.

When he held it over his head instead of depositing it into your awaiting sweaty paws, you swore it felt like the air was sucked from the room. It seemed like he had read a very specific piece of information, and you would die of embarrassment.

“I suggest…” he drawled almost lazily. “That if you want it back, you best climb me for it.”

“You—you weren’t meant to read that,” you whispered, staring into the depths of the floor.

A pair of sturdy but unassuming boots came into view. You frowned, surprised.

Two fingers fit beneath your chin and raised your head up to meet his gaze. There was a prominent frown between his eyes that hadn’t been there seconds prior, and you couldn’t help but admire his sharply angular face even if you were doing your best to look anywhere but into his eyes.

“I apologise… perhaps that was a bit too forward. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you see... I’ve thought about you a lot and not just because I found your notebook? Journal? Doesn’t matter.” Kento exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “You think I’m big? I don’t see it myself, but then I was never my best critic.”

You nodded in affirmation, where was the point in denying it now? His eyes softened, crinkles forming in the outer corners whilst his thumb lightly grazed your jaw. Roasted coffee grounds and notes of sandalwood invaded your nose as his head bent lower, towards your ear.

“Then I will repeat myself only once, sweetheart, climb me if you want it back.”

And so, you did.

You climbed him like a feral little animal.

You reached the offending notebook and hurled it to the floor without a second thought. His laughter was warm and the most boisterous you had heard from him. It made you follow through with your impulse to hook your arms around his strong neck, fingers curling into the rough undercut at his nape. Your legs were quick to follow, circling his waist until your entire front rocked into the wall of muscles that was his body.

“Tell me, what else have you put in that saucy little journal about me, hm?”

“You didn’t read it all?” you asked, almost shocked at his level of restraint if it were true.

Kento shook his head, and you believed him. He wasn’t one for lying. “I wanted to hear them from your mouth.”

“Oh… that’s… mm. Anyone ever told you that you’re as perfect as a fictional man, preferably one created by a woman? Don’t answer that,” you clamoured, pressing your hand across his mouth as it stretched open to reply.

“There’s—uh—this one thing.” You nudged the tip of his nose with yours, moving to speak directly into his ear.

Kento’s breath caught in his throat as you whispered about getting off on his thigh, his hold at your waist, which has stayed appropriate until then, tightened and moved towards your backside—squeezing.

With you still attached to him like a koala, he seated himself on the edge of your desk, lowering you until you were spread over one of his incredibly thick thighs. Your skirt bunched around your middle to accommodate the position as his expansive palms wandered your sides, pawing at your hips and palming your ass with a groan.

In no time at all he was dragging you along the length of his thigh. Your underwear was ruined by this point, your clit throbbed from the friction, the seam of yours and his clothing catching you in deliciously new ways and you still hadn’t kissed him.

You remedied this terrible oversight with enthusiasm, delighting when he startled at your forwardness before he melted, shoulders sagging. It was everything and more. No fantasy could live up to the reality. Kento kissed softly, thoroughly. Whilst he continued to lead the rhythm of your body as you rode his thigh, he was more than happy to let you lead here.

His mouth was surprisingly hot for a man who always seemed to remain cool and composed, a deep groan rumbled in his throat when you curled around his tongue and sucked on the warm, wet muscle. The warmly spiced scent and taste of Kento filled your lungs and evaporated any sense of reason you might have had about making out with a fellow teacher in your classroom. It didn’t matter. Only this mattered.

“Feel good?” he asked as you parted for much-needed air. His rough fingers gripped into the fat of your behind, reaching beneath the hem of your skirt to bunch the cotton of your underwear until he was forcing the material between your slick pussy lips.

You nodded enthusiastically, drawing his lower lip into your mouth and sucking on the tender flesh in earnest. Kento was manhandling you in a way that would make any staunch feminist blanch, but it was exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed.

“You’re making a mess on me, darling.”

“So, I’m you’re darling, am I?” You quipped back despite sounding out of breath. He was right about the mess, there was an embarrassingly long wet streak on his tailored slacks from being manipulated along his thigh. You were fucking yourself against the strong muscles that flexed beneath you and leaving the evidence for anyone to see.

“I think I’d like that,” he admitted with a hum, planting kisses to your neck and collarbone.

Your orgasm was coming in fast; the combination of the friction against your clenching cunt, the large palms gripping into your ass as if he owned it and his delicious mouth teasing your skin was speeding you towards the finish line in haste. His admittance that he might like some kind of relationship with you was the final nail in your coffin, so to speak.

“Nanami-san!”

Blond hair fell into your vision, urgent lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. His tongue flickered at your flesh, warming you up before sucking possessive purple bruises that would be hard to explain later.

“Kento,” he breathed against your collarbone, “call me Kento, my darling.”

Gods, could he be any more perfect? It was as if he knew exactly what to do and say to set you off like a firecracker!

You shrieked in surprise when Kento lifted you like you weighed nothing—you most definitely did not weigh nothing. He held you tight as he turned your body so your back was flush with his chest, rearranging you over his broad thigh once more but this time you could feel the prod of his prominent erection at the outside of your hip. It was thick and imposing, distracting but only in that you wondered what it would look like, feel like—in your hand and stretching your walls.

“Go on, be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh,” he cooed, nipping at your earlobe.

Kento grabbed at your breasts, squeezing the doughy mounds between his fingers whilst you rode his thigh to completion, pinching you through lace and chiffon. The orgasm that hit was staggering; it stole the air from your lungs, the equilibrium of your body and the sight from your eyes.

White lights pulsed behind your eyelids as you gushed like a surging waterfall over his trousers, ruining your underwear and skirt in the process. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't for the primal-sound growl that emanated from his chest. The almost bestial sounding war cry that made you shiver whilst you floated back down from ecstasy.

“Atta girl. There it is. Mhm, so good for me. So receptive. Can I take you home?” Kento asked, his voice thick and strained with unspoken emotion. “Cause I think it’s my turn now, and I can't wait to see how goddamn perfect you’re gonna look taking my cock.”

You smiled, drunk on the bliss. “Sure thing, big boy, but let’s not make this our get together story for the grandkids, yeah?”

You were so glad he found your notebook, even if you had no idea that it was Satoru Gojo that you needed to thank in the first place...

[animeyanderelover]

The way of an aggressive yet very loving househusband

Tw: Yandere themes, obsession, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior, aggression but not in the way you may think, darling has periods, abduction, this is no poly relationship by the way

Can I just say that Bakugou and Barou are basically the same type of a Yandere almost down to the tee? A type which I have decided to call the aggressive househusband.

Think about it. Both are really intimidating and scary and I wouldn't hold it against you if you would be very scared of them the first time. You see how Bakugou constantly yells at people and glares at them with his red eyes. You see how Barou completely annihilates people on the field as if this was more than just a sport and notice how he towers over anyone who annoys him off whilst glaring at them with his red eyes.

So you when you are abducted you genuinely believe the worst is going to happen. That you'll be stuck with a violent and aggressive man obsessed with you who will physically harm you and beat you up.

Only for none of that to happen.

Obviously he isn't happy to see you being so scared of him. Yes, he isn't going to deny that he is maybe a tad bit scary but you're acting like he's going to undo his belt at any moment and give you a goddamn whipping.

However, despite him being quite offended that you would put him in the same category as a fucking abuser he knows that he has to give you his patience right now. Acting right into any stereotypes you have already out him into would only harm his reputation more.

He speaks quieter and tries to sound less harsh when he's talking to you. He bends down so that both of you are on the same height or he sits down somewhere so that he is actually looking up at you whilst you are looking down on him. He gives you your space. Yes, he still checks in on you because he is considerate and not fucking stupid but he doesn't invade your privacy.

His aggressive side resurfaces as soon as chores are involved but in a way you would have never expected. He is a bloody perfectionist and no matter how you clean your room, wipe the tables or vacuum-clean the floor, you somehow never do it right. There is always something that he has to criticise. There is a spot on the mirror left from when you brushed your teeth. You forgot to clean under that little gap of your wardrobe. You didn't fold your shirts right.

The list goes on.

He doesn't hit you though and yells at you that you never do stuff right and that you're useless. No, instead he guides you promptly to the bedroom, pushes you into the mattress and just bluntly tells you that you can just watch one of the 10+ Streaming Sides he pays for whilst he is going to properly clean the goddamn house. And whilst you are sitting in bed, slightly perplexed by what just happened, he is mopping the floor and mutters occasionally about how he can't believe that you can't even clean properly. That's fine though. He can do that for you.

He cooks for you. Every day. Without fail. He hates when you go out and eat some junk food. Sure, he is guilty of eating it once in a while too but it is different when it comes to you. You shouldn't enjoy greasy and unhealthy food unless it is his greasy and unhealthy food that he has prepared for you. Don't expect him to cook you that stuff every day though. He will cook nutritious and healthy food for you and you better eat what he serves or he will be very mad and grumble about it for the entire rest of the day.

You want to go an a diet? Don't even dare to attempt any bullshit diet a beauty influencer on Instagram, YouTube or other social platforms has recommended. He happens to know the one or other thing about a diet that is actually healthy and still tastes good.

You want to try a new dish? Write him down the groceries he needs and he's the next evening in the kitchen, all ingredients tidily placed in front of him as he reads the recipe through before he starts to prepare the dish.

If you want juice he is not buying the bottles but the fruits themselves and prepares fresh juice for you. If it's orange juice you want he just squeezes every last drop out with his bare fists before he serves it in a glass to you. He generally keeps a lot of fruits and vegetables in his fridge because he likes to prepare randomly a small bowl for you so that you consume your vitamins and minerals.

You, who has lived a humble life the first twenty-something years of your life, always look at price tags when something catches your eye and as soon as you notice a number far too high with what you're comfortable to spend you just turn around.

Case closed.

Or maybe not.

Because in the next moment your lover is dragging you into the store with him, grabs whatever it is that caught your eye and then asks you with a scowl on his face if there is anything else that you would like since the two of you are already in here. Do not let yourself be mislead by that scowl on his face. What he really means to say to you is "if there is anything else you want just fucking grab it because I have the money". Honestly, who do you think is he earning all his money for nowadays?

Taxes and all other paperwork is something he mainly does. You are free to help if you insist but be aware that he is most likely going to complain about something again because there is always something he can nag about.

You never have to worry about running out of pads or tampons because he always keeps those shelves filled. As soon as you're down one package a new one magically appears the next day. He's not one of those guys who feels embarrassed about buying this stuff for you. I mean, who is going to make fun of him? Most people are in general far too scared to comment about it when they see him standing in line with packages of pads in his basket.

He ensures that you have all your needed doctor appointments. A general health check. A visit at your gynaecologist. A visit at the dentist. All of that at least twice a year so that he can see it through that something is treated the moment it is spotted.

When you're sick he is the best person to take care of you. He doesn't judge you for your terrible mood, the coughs, the sneezes or other symptoms you may experience. However, he is going to bully the spoon of medicine in your mouth, is going to monitor you to see it through that you consume your tablet and will carry you right back to bed and wrap you up as soon as you attempt to do something when you should rest instead.

Scary dog privilege is real with him just as much as the saying "my girl can wear whatever the fuck she wants because I can fight". It doesn't matter at which time in which location you are at, absolutely no one is getting to you with him by your side.

As soon as he notices someone giving you a weird look or oogling at you suggestively? Then it's up to you to cling to his torso as he drags you with him, red eyes promising a burial. Luckily you manage to be a voice of reason and stop him from potentially committing a crime in public.

You realise that you have severely misjudged him. Apparently you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

[paymechildsupport]

Milked for Every Last Drop ~ // 🥛🐄

Francis Mosses x M!Reader // 😋🙏

HC's [NSFW]

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Holy smokes the THINGS I WANNA DO to THIS MAN--

(That glass is NOT stopping me 😂🙏🥛🤤) 

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  ‘Thinkin’ about how this man’s the biggest fucking cum slut in the whole mf complex. He’s the milkman, but most people don’t know Francis doesn’t mind being milked himself. 

After a long day of dropping off cartons of milk he’ll drag himself to your office at the lobby. As a doorman, you often don’t get home until very late at night— if you ever even make it home. Resigned, Francis has to come to you if he wants his thirst satiated. 

      He’s such a goddamn slut, whoring himself out, whimpering and fucking SQUELING as you pump his swole cock for every last drop. He whines an ungodly amount. All it takes is your strong hand wrapped around his pretty dick for Francis to be reduced to a simpering, sobbing mess. A huge crybaby too. 

Like puddy in your hands, he’d make such a mess,— you’d need to lay towels down everywhere. 

In your office, shutters down after a long winded day at work,— fingers expertly rubbing up and down your husband’s twitching cock, cum flowing as you physically have to hold him up lest he fall off the couch,— which has happened in the past,— the pathetic mutt shaking so much has done the small, old couch in your office in. 

One time you were going down, sucking sloppily at his hard-on on the office couch when all of a sudden it broke— fucking gave out like Francis’ weak legs. While you were rather amused your husband was quite mortified, intent on controlling his spasming body. 

You disliked how tense his body became during intimacy,- so much so you made sure the next time you fucked his brains out and pounded his pretty ass into the bed you made him come so hard he tore his vocal cords and felt tremors ripple throughout his entire body for the rest of the week. He never tried to deny you of his pleasurable reactions again. 

[Additional HC’s <3] 

He’d give you sloppy toppy under your desk while you work (just pray you can focus enough to not terminate the wrong person 😞) 

Loves it when you swallow his cum and kiss him immediately afterwards; like pouncing and sloppily slamming your lips to his, swirling your tongue all around, watching him come undone at the taste of himself on his tongue🙏😋

He’s lactose intolerant 

Certain men can struggle getting aroused, especially if they have a medical condition, are on certain meds, or have depression / anxiety. 1950’s and mental health being nonexistent poor darling can’t properly talk to a professional about his inner turmoils, and sometimes he struggles getting erect. No matter how much you both try, he just physically can’t. Really self conscious of it too, he feels utterly pathetic (and not in that good way). You reassure him you don’t mind, and you love him for him, as your charmingly sleep deprived milkman <3 

           *A/N: Dunno what it is but there’s something so attractive in pleasuring a man who can’t get erect— I read a Geto fanfiction on here about it and it awoke something deep within me. Really need to find that one again, it’s a gorgeous piece. 

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