#he's just so strong and incredible and *gets shot*

[wexhappyxfew]

Oooh, those prompts sure do look amazing… the touch one??? I’m so unsure on which one I might be in a crisis….

Soo… after muuuch deliberation, may ask about nr. 17 (holding the other’s chin up) with my girl Carrie? (I have to stay loyal to her, though I love all the other Silver Bullets girls equally)

Thank you 💖

- Carrie anon

carrie anon my apologies for how incredibly late this is (along with the other prompts sitting in the askbox lol) finals season will forever be a struggle lmao. BUT! i'm taking a mental break and here we are with a piece for my beans, carrie x dougie, carrie anon!! :D VERY excited to post this, we get a bit more with carrie's feelings as she's pretty good at hiding them (but not great with hiding them lol). so please enjoy!!

bergie doesn't strike out

(a/n): for the carrie x dougie girlies because this prompt i enjoyed and i figured i'd add some more to carrie's background - a struggle to fit in, to feel wanted, in a time of war. yeah, she's going through it to say the least and in some way, we all can get why :'( please enjoy!

Carrie watched from behind her shot glass as James Douglass waltzed over to the congregating group of Clubmobile girls and talked his talk, pulling out his lighter and offering to light up cigarettes, only before making quite the show of winking and meandering away back towards where he had been previously stood with Hambone and Murphy. She watched him let out a barking laugh before pointing to their cups and nodding to the bar. And that's when he started waltzing over to the bar, where she was stood, rather enjoying her stare-down with her shot glass instead of having to focus on him.

"Carrie Achterbeg, haven't seen you in a minute." she heard him say as he approached - which albeit was the truth. She hadn't come out to one of these in a couple of weeks. After that awkward misunderstanding with one of the guys from the 418th - radio operator, kind eyes, but horrible ego - after he had tried to plant one on her, she didn't want anything to do with the flying club, drinks and pilots. Tonight though was different. And after those last few missions, she needed some sort of melancholy distraction, even if it were a shot or two stood alone at the bar.

"Aren't you a sight for sore ey-" Carrie glanced over at James Douglass and shoved him in the shoulder roughly before throwing back her shot and sighing.

"Don't finish that sentence." she managed out, coughing briefly and then looked at him.

"Dually noted." Dougie said, before leaning up on the bar next to her and watching the side of her face, "What's eating you?" Carrie let out a dry laugh and looked over at him.

"I should be asking you the same thing," she said, before lowering your voice, "struck out, huh?" Dougie raised a brow in her direction and she nodded over his shoulder.

"Tatty, Helen, Virginia…." Carrie said, "Christ, Dougie, you struck out and you struck out hard." Dougie rolled his eyes and leaned more against the bar and nodded to the tender.

"Struck out is a strong word to use in that sense-"

"Sure as hell is currently the right word-"

"There's other words-"

"Struck out is as good as it comes." Carrie said to him and he took the beer from the tender and sighed, before taking a long sip. She watched him for a moment, biting the inside of her lip and then glanced back at her empty shot glass.

She was just punchy, she wasn't in the best of moods, and James Douglass was beginning to grow on her in ways she hadn't expected nor entirely wanted. And her mind was trying to ignore it.

"Why haven't you been coming recently?" Dougie asked her as he casually sipped on his beer, eyes wandering out to the dance floor and then back to her, before grinning wide, "Hambone's been missing ya." Carrie sighed and then stood up straighter and pushed her hair behind her ears and glanced at him.

"Personal choice." she said and then shrugged as she looked out towards the dance floor again, "You missing me, too? You seemed real tangled up with those guys over there. Surprised you came over to say hello." She raised a brow at him and he shrugged her off. Watching him, she then turned, only to be stopped by his arm jutting out.

"Where you going?"

"Just taking a lap around," she said with a shrug, "talk to some people I haven't seen before, ya know, get eyes on everyone." He watched her, a mixture of adornment it seemed and surprise, as she straightened her jacket and then looked at him.

"Everything look good?" she asked him, holding out her arms like she was about to go off on her first day at school and wanted her uniform in check. Dougie held her gaze for a moment before he let his eyes wash down her form and then back up to her face again. Carrie watched him, her collar turning hot as he took a slow sip and let his eyes rest on hers again, that lazy smile growing on his face as he nodded.

"Good is a strong word-"

"Dougie, don't you dare." Carrie muttered, a small smile growing on her face as she shoved at his shoulder, and repositioned herself, hands on her hips and sighed, "Seriously." For a moment, they just watched each other and it should've felt awkward, but in all actuality - it wasn't. And knowing that he was looking at her that fondly almost made her want to stay and talk to him more. But she wasn't like that it seemed.

"You look great," Dougie said, his voice strained as he nodded, "don't let none of those fools do anything funny, alright?" Now, it was Carrie's turn to let out a laugh and raise her brow.

"Since when did you care?" she asked quickly, crossing her arms, "'Cause three weeks ago, I had that stupid radio operator from the 418th practically down my throat and you barely batted an eye." A few onlookers glanced towards the two and it took Carrie a few moments to recognize how loud she had gotten and suddenly emotional in her words. And why did she care if Dougie had barely batted an eye? He shouldn't have needed to. They weren't technically even friends, just a joke or two here and there, some teasing and good-natured tomfoolery, but nothing more. Why did she care that he should care? Carrie sighed. Dougie looked up at her with those big, slightly worried eyes and bit back his lip before nodding.

"Well, now that you've made me aware of that, maybe I will bat an eye next time." Dougie said, looking up at her as his fingers danced against the cool mug of beer, "Who the hell was it?" Carrie stared at him and then blinked slowly.

"It doesn't matter-"

"That's why you didn't come-"

"Dougie-"

"Because he had-"

"Dougie." Carrie said, stepping closer to him, and holding his gaze right in her own, her hand ghosting over his arm as if to latch onto him, but failing to do so, "Let it go. It's over now."

"You brought it up." Dougie said back quickly, but she stopped him with a shake of the head. But then she stood quiet for a moment and let her thoughts grow. She had brought it up. Almost as if she had wanted him to know. Because no one had known. Because she'd been embarrassed that she let herself think that maybe that was a good guy, someone she could live a life with and all he had wanted was a kiss. It was a stupid thought.

"Who was it, Carrie, seriously?" Dougie asked her as she balled up her fists and looked anywhere but his face, which she knew had a look on it that would make her lose it, "A guy from the 418th, huh? He ever heard about a thing called messing with the bull, you damn well be getting the horns-"

"Shh, keep your voice down!" Carrie muttered, bringing a finger in front of her mouth and looking at him with wide eyes, "He was just some jackass that thought I was there to have a good time and that was it." Dougie grew quiet as he watched her. Whatever it was between them seemed to simmer and they both seemed to understand in that minute what she meant. But she wouldn't dare actually say why she had even bothered kissing the guy, or why Dougie was looking at her like that.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?" Dougie said, his voice softer than it normally was, that look in his eye deeper and darker, "I know a guy-"

"No." Carrie said, her cheeks scarlet, "It was just a stupid kiss, that's it. It's over. I just….I was trying to avoid the situation again and…." She trailed off. She was over talking about it to be completely honest. She looked up at him.

"I'm fine." she said with an honest nod, "Thank you for your…..concern." Dougie watched her, with a slow nod and licked his lips, like he was still digesting her words in their entirety. He didn't say much, he just watched her and she didn't entirely want to complain about that because for one, his eyes were some of the kindness she'd probably seen on this side of the world. And for once, they were eyes that looked at her in a way other guys didn't.

"Just…go have some fun," Dougie said quietly, "give me a look if a guy does something stupid, alright?" And she nodded and looked up at him, as he smiled softly at her, his eyes darting over her own endless blue ones, an abyss of dampened sea and darkened souls. Lost and harrowing. He leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice.

"Don't strike out." he said with a small chuckle and she looked up at him and brought her pointer finger underneath his chin and prodded him lightly to meet her gaze, before whispering back just as quietly.

"Bergie doesn't strike out."

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #carrie achterberg #james douglass #carrie x dougie #THEMMMMM #when you can tell they both want to say things to each other but they can't bc they've never crossed that line before #dougie saying she looks great and willing to defend her like bro i WILL just go cry in a corner fr #THEM #i will forever fangirl over these two bc they are absolutely INSANEEE #me yelling from the corner 'just say you like each other and get it over with !!!!' #this is earlier days of them knowing each other but the chemistry is all the same #please enjoy!

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

[tonycries]

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Synopsis. They’re not drunk on alcohol - no, they’re drunk on you and your pretty lil’ pússy.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pússydrunk boys, strength differences, bréeding, màting press, desperate boys, manhandling, marking, jealousy (Nanami’s side), praise, degradation, smacking, cúmplay, dirty talk, some HEINOUS things, lowkey fluffy Sukuna, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Was originally gonna be something else but I couldn’t get it out of my head so-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Won’t stop, can’t stop

A pussydrunk Toji Fushiguro promises to break you - and is fully intent on fulfilling these promises. There’s no way he wasn’t with the way he had you folded into a mating press for the third time tonight. 

“Oh hngh- please.” you mewl, begging for- you don’t even know at this point. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your mouth, and you flinch as his heavy balls smack your ass harder, throbbing cock massaging your gummy walls over and over-

You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, his cum gushing out of your overfilled pussy and spreading in a lewd little pool beneath you. You’re beyond the point of cockdrunk at this point - all you can do is sit there and take it while he keeps squeezing himself into you with reckless abandon. 

That little scar on the corner of his mouth rubs against your lips so deliciously as he grimaces in both pain and pleasure. Overstimulating you both to insanity. And fuck, Toji wasn’t even sure if he could cum against but damn if he wasn’t going to try. Just wanting to fill you up one more time- “One more, doll. Not fucking enough.”

And before you know it, your pussy is clenching around nothing. 

“Ngh- T-Toji.” Face sinking into the plush pillow as Toji flips you like a ragdoll. Not even giving you the time to register what’s happening before he’s bullying his thick cock into your dripping cunt from behind. Relishing in that delirious little squeal of surprise that leaves you as he stuffs you full again.

“Shit, fucking squeezing around me so fucking deliciously, sweetheart. Look at ya.” he slurs hoarsely, voice shot. Drinking in your sobbed little, “Ah- jus’ like that. Fuck hngh- keep going-”

Both of you are barely lucid at this point, but it’s all that tiny rational part of himself can do to not fuck into your sloppy pussy like an animal while you clench and flutter around him. Kissing hotly down your spine as you desperately adjust to his massive cock.

But ah you should’ve known - should’ve gotten an inkling of realization at the way his achingly hard cock was throbbing inside your walls at a maddening little bump! bump! bump!

With an impatient little grunt, Toji wraps an arm around your waist to give your quivering cunt a soft little swat! He drinks in your cute lil’ gasp of surprise, reeling back all the way till his angry, red tip was just kissing your sloppy entrance, pushing in quick, short jabs of his hips - more to fit himself deeper inside your snug cunt than anything. 

With each harsh thrust, Toji’s pulling you back onto himself with bruising strength. Forcing you to feel every ridge and vein against all the right places as he stretches you on his cock. “Fuck, you’re incredible.” he murmurs. “Arch more f’me- yeah, that’s it. Tha’s my girl.” 

And oh how you love being thrown around by him this way. Because no more was Toji self-conscious about hurting you like he usually was. 

No, he’s pushing your back down to arch into his dick, still using and bending you however he pleases. And as he flattens his feet on the mattress, putting his body weight onto yours, it’s only a matter of time before you wonder when bones will start breaking.

But it still wasn’t enough. And he’s restless. 

Because Toji’s looping two strong arms around your legs, letting himself fall backwards onto the mattress, hips burning as he keeps fucking you like an animal. Not pausing even as you clench around him in shock. 

“Feels s’fucking heavenly.” he groans, voice raw. “Wan’ one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.” Lacing his fingers above your head to push. Down down down. So fucking filthily. 

And it burns the way he had you so shamefully spread open. At this point you can hardly believe you’re conscious let alone being able to sob out a strangled little, “Yes! Yes yes yes make me cum, Toji. Make me cum all over your cock again.” 

And he does - thumb pressing down on your poor, ravaged clit. Hard. unmoving even as you whine and buck into his touch. Torn between running away and pushing back for more more more- you cum with nothing more than pathetic little tingles that make you milk Toji’s cock desperately. Batting your lashes tearily up at him with a low, “Wan’ you to hah- c-cum insi-.”

You don’t even have to finish the sentence, before Toji’s pumping his seed into you with a strangled groan of what sounds like your name. Nothing more than hot, sticky wisps of cum that trickle down the side, too much for your poor overfilled pussy. Shooting delicate rope after rope until his cock is angry and twitching inside with nothing but blanks.

But in the haze of your high, you hear the way your boyfriend still finds it in himself to chuckle.  A dark little, “One more, sweetheart.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - His, his, his

When Nanami Kento is pussydrunk, everyone will know the day after. 

And by everyone, it’s everyone - from the apartment security guard that blushes and looks away, to your coworkers who titter when you walk in. 

Because Nanami can’t stop himself from claiming each and every inch of your pretty self. Lips searing on your skin, leaking tip dragging along your swollen folds. His precum smearing so filthily across your cunt.

“K-Kento-” you mewl, grinding your hips into his so that he would just fucking ruin you like you wanted him to. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, nipping along the delicate skin of your neck. Tongue flattening, licking long, languid stripes down like a sort of reverence. “Tell me what you want, my love.”

And if he put an emphasis on the pet name, well, then let it be known that Nanami Kento was a composed man - but that wouldn’t mean he won’t let everyone know you’re his. Even those scrubs that can’t take a hint. 

Which is why his neat fingernails were digging deep into your hips, leaving pretty crescents in their wake. Dragging down ever-so-slightly to leave you all marked up and his. His grip on you only tightens at the pretty lil’ whines that spill from your kiss-bitten lips, “Wan’ you- hah- inside me s’bad.”

“Oh? And who does my girl want inside her pretty lil’ cunt?”

“You! You Kento- ngh-”

Well, whatever his girl wants - she will get. Because Nanami’s immediately pressing his angry, leaking tip into your sloppy pussy, groaning at the way you’re already clamping down on him so deliciously. Not stopping till you were flush against the neat tufts of blond at his base. Barely even giving you time to adjust because you’ve wanted this for so long and you’re sucking him up so well. 

“Ah! Hngh- Fuck. Yeah fuck me just like that- Kento.” you’re tightening your legs around him, letting Nanami all but use you as he thrusts in small, mindless little motions of his hips. Mouth still marking and biting your skin relentlessly. 

His lips leave your neck to whisper against yours, eyes half-lidded and boring into yours. “Love when y’say my name.”

Gasping breathlessly at the bruising grip all on your hips - your sensitive clit - your throat - just everywhere because Nanami can’t get enough of you. And you can do nothing but buck up deliriously as he speeds up his pace. Ramming his thick cock into your sloppy pussy deeper and deeper. “You’re mine, y’know that? All mine. And anyone with eyes can see that.”

Several things happen at once, you let out a strangled moan as Nanami changes his angle to hit that one spot he knew so well. Flushed tip hitting it over and over until you were sure it was bruising. As bruising at the hand kneading your ass, swiftly coming down. Hard. 

Smack!

Nanami’s large handprint sears into your skin. And through the haze, he soothes his hand over the sting. Starting to draw slow, languid circles on your swollen clit like a little apology - but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be any nicer. Not at all - in fact, before you can react, he’s touching any and every inch of skin once more, making sure to leave pretty lil’ marks for days.

And he has to fight that loud, carnal part of himself that just wants to ruin you under his hands here forever, but no - Nanami needs everyone else to see as well. See how you’re so beautifully his.

Smack! 

“So pretty f’me, my girl. All f’me.”

“Yes! Ah- yes yes yes. S’all for you, Kento oh-” you moan brokenly like a mantra. A raw little ah! ah! ah! Leaving your swollen lips each time his twitching balls smack your ass, so wet and sloppy with your slick. You’re sure they leave a mark every time his achingly hard cock bullies into your snug cunt, dipping in and out in and out in and-

“Yeah? Then you’re gonna cum f’me, too, pretty girl?”

“Yes- ah-” Hand on your clit frenzied now, hips out of control. Breath hot against your ear while he holds you down in a bruising grip. So very filthy and all his-

And then you’re cumming. Jolts of electricity sparking down your spine as you cum so hard that you grab at Nanami’s sculpted back for some - any - semblance of sanity. 

The only things on your mind being how hot and heavy he was fucking you through your high, and the sharp sting on the crook of your neck, his canines digging into your delicate skin.

“F-fuck.” he whispers, muffled in your neck. “Squeezin’ me so tight. Ngh-” hips stuttering and so sloppily still meeting yours. Still fucking rock-hard.

And through your glassy vision you manage to make out the pure pride shining in his eyes as he reads the silent question on your face. 

“Not yet, my girl. I still see some blank spots.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Quiet bully

“Mm, not hngh- stopping until you cum again f’me, pretty girl.”

When Geto is pussydrunk you barely even notice at first.

Because he’s the ever-graceful and suave Geto Suguru, even when he’s ramming into your pretty pussy with reckless abandon. Head thrown back, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead, hands bruising on your hips and pulling you to deeper into his hips as he fucks you from behind. 

The only way you do get an inkling of the fact is because he’s so mean. Geto always is in bed - but right now he’s just bullying you. Long index toying with your swollen clit, quick, maddening little motions to get you off for the nth time tonight. 

“But, Suguru!” you mewl, clawing at the sheets, “C-can’t cum again-”

“You will.” he leans down, breath hot against your ear as he whispers, low and gravelly. His abs are rubbing against your back as he keeps his unforgiving pace, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Because Geto doesn’t get drunk on just your pussy - no, he gets drunk off of all of you and how pretty you are when you’re cumming all for him. 

“C’mon, you do it f’me.” he hums, so mockingly innocent that would’ve almost believed him - if it wasn’t for the way he speeds up on your clit. Throbbing cock twitching inside you at the delicate tears streaking down your face. 

Fingers merciless on your clit, balls smacking against your skin, holding you still as he rams into you over and over-

“S-Suguru!” you let out a strangled gasp, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes as you cum. And oh he loves that cute lil’ expression on your face, the tears clinging on to your lashes and the way your slutty cunt flutters so filthily around him.

You’re lucky you’re turned away from him, because you don’t see the cruel little smile that curls his lips or the excitement flashing in his darkened eyes. Though, maybe it would’ve better prepared you for when he huffs out a fucked-out, “Tha’s my girl. One more- Hngh- one more.”

Your eyes snap open, a broken little sob leaving you because fuck you weren’t going to make it out alive, Geto was going to absolutely ravage you till you’re ruined-

“O-one more.” Geto groans like a mantra. Flattening his feet on the bed to ram into you at a different angle - one he knew would hit you at that one spot that had you gasping and grinding deeper into his throbbing cock. “One more f-fuck, give me one more-”

If you were in a better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed how fucking sloppy and mean Geto was slamming his cock into your snug pussy. And how his sadistic little hums were becoming more and more strained, turning into broken grunts like he was begging you. Begging himself. Still fucking you like an animal, bodyweight pushing yours down, you crushed underneath him. Trying to milk that last, sweet little orgasm out of you.

“Cum f’me once more, my girl.”

And nothing more has to be said before you’re cumming. Again. Eyes scrunching shut in pain and pleasure as you grab at the headboard for some semblance of stability. 

Honestly, you don’t even have to, because Geto’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his heated body. Grunting as your cunt desperately tries to milk him for all he’s worth. Brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. But Geto can’t - won’t right now. Not yet. 

Instead he’s reeling his hips back again, until his angry, red tip was just kissing your sloppy hole. Running on just your cute lil’ whines and the way you were clamping down so deliciously around him. Thrusting in frantic, shallow grinds for now because he was feeling so generous as to ease you into it.

“Suguru! Ah- not again-” you squeal, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. But whatever plea that comes next gets stuck in your throat as your loving boyfriend utters words that have your cunt clenching exhaustively in anticipation. 

“Now the real fun starts.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please, baby. Please.”

For Choso, it’s hard to not get drunk off of your pretty lil’ cunt. And he gets so whiny and needy when he does. Barely even squeezing his throbbing cock through the first ring of muscle before he thinks he might just see the pearly gates of heaven - and you were an angel. 

You’re just so warm and sloppy on top of him, slick dripping down to his twitching balls, swallowing him up so deliciously. 

“Ah! Ngh- s-slow down-” you whine, head spinning at the pure stretch of him stuffing you full. His twitching balls were pressed against your ass, veins grazing against your plushy walls, pulsing in a maddening thump! thump! thump! that you can feel in your throat. “S’too big, Cho. I don’t think I can-” 

“No!” he gasps into your skin, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed so deceivingly innocently. “Need it s’bad. Need you so bad- Fuck, I can’t stop-” 

Hips moving mindlessly, fucking up in tiny, shallow little thrusts to bully himself inside you. Not even fully inside you, but he was already so out of control. 

The mattress is creaking deafeningly, a lewd little staccato with the squelches from down below. “Choso-” you whimper, torn between clamping down on his swollen cock to suck him up more desperately and running away. 

“Oh- oh baby, f-fuck. Squeezing m’so tight.” he’s groaning into the crook of your neck, strong arms wrapped so tight around your waist that it almost hurt. “Hngh- Don’t think you can run away from me.” And Choso couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to - barely even giving you time to adjust before he’s milking himself on your dripping cunt. 

Cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips each time he rams himself inside deeper and deeper, you were just gushing around him. Pretty pussy taking him so readily despite your protests. “Need this so hngh- fucking badly. Need this need this need this-”

“F-fuck, Cho- Yes, give it t’me.”

Ah, his head was spinning. The only thoughts running through his mind being how sloppy you were, so wet and squeezing him so perfectly - his pretty girl was taking him so well. 

Blindly, Choso shifts onto his forearms, head craning to graze his lips along the seam of your mouth . Mind too hazy to kiss you properly like he wanted to - but it’s fine, he’ll kiss you silly after this. Fuck, he muses, balls squeezing painfully, just as soon as he cums. 

And you can do nothing more than take it as he chokes out low little moans of your name. Head spinning because his cock was so big and he wasn’t stopping - just wanting to fuck your tight pussy until he-

“Ngh- c-can’t fucking take it anymore, baby. Need to fucking cum.” he grunts, tearing springing to his eyes, sounding like he’s losing a bit of his sanity every time his heavy balls smack your ass. And he needed you to, too - ringed fingers snaking down to draw harsh, frenzied little patterns on your swollen clit. Not even circles because shit Choso doesn’t have the time for that - just wanting to have you gasping and seeing stars as soon as possible. 

“Cho, m’c-close. Ah! Ngh, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum-” you keen, hips bucking up wildly for more more more- And oh it’s like Choso’s favorite song, because his throbbing cock is twitching inside you so deliciously, thrusts sloppy and unfocused, thumb aching with how fast it was on your clit. 

“Me too, baby. Hngh- m-me too.” he gasps into your open mouth, movements only getting faster and faster and-

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes, and Choso’s hips stuttering - so desperate, so filthy as he shoots thick, hot spurts of cum into your snug cunt. Fucking his seed deeper and deeper into you mindlessly. 

And he can’t stop - he won’t. But you absolutely love it. Because you’ve barely blinked the haze from your eyes before he’s pulling away ever-so-slightly, a hand pushing away the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Breaths ragged, voice hoarse. 

“Not enough, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sober thoughts

They say drunk minds speak sober thoughts, and oh how Sukuna wishes that wasn’t the case when he’s fucking you dumb. How he wishes he could stop the strained little grunts that escape him each time his heavy balls smack your ass. 

“Kuna- Ngh- s’too much, c-can’t anymore-”

How he wishes he wasn’t drunk off your cute lil’ whines, and that fucked-out expression on your face as he rams his cock into your pretty pussy. Plunging into your heavenly cunt again and again and- It was too fucking much for him. 

Because it makes him wish he didn’t lean down, whispering softly in your ear, “You can do it, angel. Hah- I I know you will. Hngh- That pretty cunt is made f’me, always taking me so good-”

Ah, you clench so obscenely around his thick cock, shivers running down your spine. Milking him so obscenely as his weeping tip hits your poor cervix over and over. 

“W-wha-?” you blink tearily at him, voice shot. Trying to grasp reality because usually, Sukuna would usually tell you to shut up and fucking take it like the good lil’ slut you are. And if you were in a better state of mind you’d almost be embarrassed at the way he holds such power over you, just a few words of praise and you’re already turning into his personal plaything. 

He huffs out in frustration, leaning down to lick a long, lazy stripe up your cheek, gathering the big fat tears rolling down it on his tongue. And you can’t even think of bringing yourself to be disgusted, because this is Sukuna and he’s always so filthy and mean. 

Except right now, being mean is the last thing on his mind. Murmuring out a strained little “Don’t act so surprised. You know you always milk my cock so well.” drinking in your cute little whimpers. “Shit- like yer trynna suck the s-soul out of me. Never met someone so fucking perfect f’me-”

He thinks he could almost cum right here right now when he sees you snaking down a hand to play with your swollen clit. “But Kuna~” Such an adorable pout appearing on your face when he gently smacks that hand away. Sukuna just wants to kiss it off your swollen lips.

And he does - licking hotly at the seam of your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip while you keen into his. It’s messy - all teeth and spit and adoration. 

Because you might not see it with your eyes half-lidded from the ecstasy, but Sukuna is looking at you with such nauseating heart-eyes. Ones he’d vehemently deny later, of course. But for now he settles for groping a hand down your pretty body, one, long finger rubbing unhurried little circles on your throbbing, achy clit. 

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head.”

So different from his unforgiving cock. All push and pull as he fucks you like his sextoy, but kisses you like his God. 

“Ah! Jus’ like that, feels so f-fucking good-” you’re a teary, whimpering mess underneath him. 

“Mhm? Feels s’good, huh?” he groans gutturally. Letting you buck wildly underneath him because shit you look so pretty being all desperate and needy for him. “Squeezin’ me s’tight. Fucking heavenly you are, you’re gonna pay for it if I cum early, angel.”

Your eyes snap open at his delirious confession and the way he seems well and fully intent on breaking you - and talking you nicely through it. It was making your head spin, especially at the way Sukuna get more and more out of control, all sloppy movements and even sloppier words. Slurring out little praises while he stuffed your ravaged cunt faster. Deeper. Pure, carnal need where he usually toyed with you so cruelly. Closer and-

“Cum for me, angel.”

You think you cum at the first word out of his mouth, because you’re seeing stars behind your eyes before Sukuna even finishes the sentence. And he’s not far behind - giving you one, final harsh thrust before filling you up in thick ropes of cum. It gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy as he keeps fucking into you like some animal. Letting out little mutters of how fucking beautiful you were and how heavenly your cunt is and-

And, well, by the time he’s collapsing into your ready arms, Sukuna might not be so pussydrunk anymore. But by God it doesn’t stop the way he nuzzles your hair softly. 

Pulling your sweaty body close to his, so fucked-out and exhausted. So fucking debauched with the way his cum gushes out of you. Hot and sticky, seeping into the sheets and pooling in the nonexistent space between you two. 

So very, very his. 

♡ GOJO SATORU - Shut up!

Gojo Satoru doesn’t shut up - not even when he’s stuffing his cock into your pretty pussy, and especially not when he’s drunk off of the heavenly feeling. Off the sight of you - all swollen lips fallen into a soft oh!, eyes glassy and miles away, so debauched and pretty underneath him - he just has to let you know.

“Look at you. Fucking perfect. Gonna fuck you till I can’t anymore.” he murmurs wetly. “Gonna make it feel so good f’you. Gonna have y’milk my cock until there’s nothing to milk.”

And Gojo swears he isn’t pussydrunk - but the way he’s babbling into your tits says otherwise. Looking up at you through his long lashes with dazed, hooded eyes, words muffled around your tit but still he keeps running his mouth. 

“Hngh- S’fucking tight and hot around me.” he murmurs, hips snapping to meet yours, milking himself mindlessly on your snug cunt. So hard that it almost hurt at the sting of skin-on-skin. “God, could stay like this f-forever.”

He was getting so loud now. Mixing with the sloppy squelches from below.

“You could, too, huh? Drunk on my cock enough to? Y’look like it-”

That makes your cheeks heat up. “Satoru-” You scramble to hastily cover Gojo’s mouth, stopping that sweet sweet voice from saying the most filthy things. You can feel his smug little grin underneath your fingertips, and you almost know what’s coming- before he licks a long, amused stripe up your palm.

Snatching your hand back, you sigh - as best you could when your boyfriend was ramming his thick cock inside you - “Satoru! What did I say about-”

“But you make it so easy, sweetheart.” he whines, hands roaming all over your body. Gripping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach before resting at your swollen clit. Pooling your sweet juices on his fingertips, drawing featherlight circles around the nub like he was trying to convince you. “Don’t lie. Y’like this big mouth. Love it even.”

Unlike Gojo - it’s hard to get your words out when he’s bullying his cock into your dripping cunt. Ramming into you over and over-

“Admit it. Don’t you love it? Love hearing me talk fucking filthy to you like this?” His words were coming out fast now, mixing with your cute whines and the heady air of the room. Each one punctuated by a brutal, harsh into your dripping cunt. 

Fingers working magic on your sensitive clit while his cock ravages you below. And the great Gojo Satoru does not give a fuck about your hushed whispers about how your neighbours are home or how “this is the fifth time they’ve complained.”

Because his girl’s pretty lil’ cunt is fucking perfect and he needs you to know.

Gojo presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. Thrusts growing more and more careless. Losing his sanity with each stroke - with each word that comes out of his mouth. “I know you like it.” he groans, “I can see it in your eyes, n’ the way this slutty lil’ pussy squeezes me so fucking tight.”

Dragging - not pushing - you both closer to the edge. Frantic now, syllables slurring together and Gojo’s hips stuttering into yours. Drunk off of you and your cunt and the way he can’t stop talking and talking and-

“Yes,” your words were a barely audible whisper - but Gojo hears. Of course, he does. “I love it. Fucking love it, Toru.”

And then he’s cumming - and cumming so hard that Gojo thinks he’ll never be able to stop. Not, that he’d ever want to.

Because Gojo keeps pumping the thick, hot spurts of cum oozing out of him into your sloppy pussy. And shit you look so pretty underneath him, his seed dribbling down your thighs, eyes fluttering shut as you cream around his cock. And, of course, he has to let you know - babbling about how cute you were milking his cock and how warm and wet.

And Gojo’s still running his mouth as he pulls out, over your disappointed little mewl. All the way down till he’s swiftly centered between your open legs. Breath fanning your cunt, a devilish grin curling his lips.

“Time to help you remember exactly how much you love this big mouth.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #sukuna smut #nanami smut #tonywrites #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #choso smut #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #toji x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #toji fushiguro smut #nanami x reader smut #choso x reader smut #geto x reader smut

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MEET UGLY — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college au!, rich boy! gojo, first meets, slight meet ugly but mainly he’s just annoying, established relationship in second scene, banter + fluff, kissies for da princess boy <3

dating gojo has always been, and will always be, the biggest unforeseen plot twist of your life.

the first time you encounter gojo satoru, it’s in literature class. he laughs with that dark haired friend of his a bit too loudly in the back while you try to share your thoughts on the reading from last night—it’s not that you particularly care for the class, but you’re trying to get the participation points, and you don’t want some slacking jackass to ruin that for you.

you throw him a glare over your shoulder, making him pause and blink before he shoots you a cheshire grin. you swear you hear a chuckle from the distance as you turn and continue speaking.

the second time you stumble across him is in line at the campus coffee shop. it’s the first day of the semester, and you have class in fifteen minutes across campus, but you’re tired. incredibly so—working shifts back to back late into the night is not doing you any favors, but you have to afford gas money and textbooks somehow.

you need caffeine, and you need it quick so you can make it to class on time.

except the tall, snow-haired stranger in front of you is making that very difficult as he takes forever and lists his wildly long list of syrups and add ons for his drink—seriously, who can even stomach a drink like that? you crinkle your nose as you imagine how sweet it must be. what irritates you more is that he pays for his ridiculously expensive drink that’s far too sweet for eight am with a black card. you glare daggers into the back of his head, wishing you could crack his skull in two with your stare alone.

and then he turns, raises a brow as he stares at you calculatingly—and then his lips turn into a grin as he seems to recognize you. great, you think.

“hey, weren’t you in lit class with me last semester?” he asks, making you sigh as you purse your lips.

“yes. now please move, i need to order and get to class.”

“she curved that final exam pretty generously, i thought i was going to fail—”

“i’ll take a large double shot,” you mumble, ignoring him as you place your order. you can feel his stare from the side as you pay.

“that’s pretty strong, don’t you think?” he asks, making you throw a glare at him from over your shoulder, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

it only seems to amuse him more, making you grit your teeth—how irritating could someone even manage to be? there’s got to be some sort of record he’s holding for most nerves he’s ticked off within the span of two meets.

“well, assuming from the fact that you’re a college student with a black credit card,” you huff, “you probably haven’t had to work a single night shift in your life.”

you put away your own card as you speak—one that’s not black, and one that’s going to have a very high bill due soon from the textbooks you’ll have to purchase.

“i like you,” he grins, “you’re funny. how about i—”

you cut him off again, done interacting for the morning. “have a nice day,” you say curtly, walking over to the wait area for your drink.

he seems entirely amused by your attitude—which only pisses you off more. does everything seem to make his lips quirk into that annoying smirk of his? and why is it so handsome? what a waste of such a gorgeous face to be paired with such an insufferable personality. and, because the universe hates you, he waits around for you even after he gets his drink, following you out the door when you grab yours and leave.

“how about i take you out for coffee tomorrow?” he grins, “i’ll pay with that black card you like so much.”

what an asshole—you hope he gets hit by a car and loses a few teeth.

“no.”

“c’mon, it’ll be fun—”

“no.”

“okay,” he chuckles, “feisty. i like it.”

and then, as you turn the corner, he turns with you, walking leisurely behind you as he sips that disgustingly sugary drink of his.

“what the fuck,” you hiss, “why are you following me?”

“i’m not,” he says innocently, “why are you following me?”

where are all the cars in the streets when you need them? and why haven’t they hit him yet?

“i’m walking ahead of you jackass,” you huff, “how can i be following you?”

“oh yeah?” he takes a few strides with those abnormally long legs of his, walking ahead of you as he shoots you an amused grin over his shoulder. “now you’re following me. does that mean you changed your mind about that date?”

“you wish,” you seethe.

a few more steps, and he walks into the same building as you. great—you’ll likely be running into him every morning then. a few more steps and he’s turning the hall to the same hall as you. wonderful—you’ll probably have to deal with him to the walk to class too. a few more steps, and then you realize he’s entering the same class that you’re entering.

fucking fantastic. just what you needed. absolutely divine luck—the universe has really handed you the largest pair of clown shoes it could find.

of course he of all people would be in class with you for another semester—and he seems to brighten considerably when he realizes he’s in your class too, because his grin widens even more.

“well, look at that,” he says brightly, “you followed me all the way to class. we might as well be seatmates.”

“don’t even think about sitting near me,” you warn, “i’m going to go that way. you go that way.”

he does not go the way you point—instead, he chuckles and plops down right beside you. how on earth could someone be so easy to despise? of all the empty seats in the entirety of the lecture hall, he just has to choose the seat right next to you.

for a moment, you contemplate skipping this class entirely and trying to teach yourself everything before the tests just so you don’t have to see him—you’ve done that enough times, it shouldn’t be too hard. but then you remember that this course is notorious for having a semester long paired project that weighs for a hefty amount of your final grade—skipping is not an option.

so, with veins ready to pop any second, and an oncoming migraine, you sit through all of lecture trying to ignore the absolute worst guy you’ve ever met. not only is he rude and obnoxious and overly confident to a fault—but he’s also rich and spoiled and privileged to live in a realm entirely separate from your reality.

you think you might just hate him.

you’re broken from your thoughts when you hear your name as the professor lists the pairs she’s already made from the roster for the semester’s project. this is great, you think, she’ll call someone’s name, and you’ll have that as an excuse to sit with them and avoid the nuisance sat beside you.

everything is fine. you’ll be free in just a few moments. it’ll all be over soon.

“gojo satoru,” she calls, “if you could raise your hand so your partner knows who to find after class.”

then, as if in slow motion, the very same guy who ruined your morning raises his hand, looking over at you absolutely enthused as his eyes sparkle through the top of his sunglasses—which, only an asshole would wear sunglasses indoors.

“hey partner,” he chuckles, “how about coffee tomorrow to discuss our project?”

—————

satoru likes to think that even with his unfortunate start with you on the wrong foot, he’s managed a steady relationship with you.

you don’t tell him to get hit by a car anymore—instead, now you kiss his forehead before bed every night, hold his hand and swing his arm with yours when you’re out, cuddle him after long days and talk about life, and sometimes—when he’s been extra good, you might even do other activities with him that include a whole lot of intimacy and exclude a whole lot of clothing.

he likes to think you’re pretty in love with him—and he’s proud to claim himself as your adorable, sweet, very handsome and extremely funny boyfriend. although, you don’t really ever call him all that, but he’s fairly confident you think it, and that’s close enough.

“baby,” gojo pokes your arm from his spot on your lap, “on a scale of one to ten, how cute would you say i am?”

“an eleven when you shut up and let me work,” you mumble, stroking his hair with one hand and doing calculus problems with the other.

he pouts, huffing in disbelief.

“you know, if you keep taking me for granted, you might lose me,” he says petulantly.

it earns a snort from you as you give him an amused look.

“toru, i think your mom would pay me to get back together with you if we ever broke up.”

“she would not,” he gasps, watching as you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“remember our first fight? you practically starved yourself in your room,” you giggle, “she had to beg me to come talk to you so you’d eat.”

“that’s not true! i had kitkats and coke zero in my room,” he defends himself, crossing his arms as he sits up. “i was fine.”

“you definitely cried yourself to sleep,” you snicker, “you’re hopeless without me.”

“i am just fine without you,” he lies through his teeth, turning away from you as he tilts his head up indignantly.

“remember when you couldn’t even last a week without me while i was studying for finals? and then your mom had to call and beg me again to spend time with you?”

“that’s not—”

“admit it, toru,” you grin cheekily, pinching his nose as you chuckle, “you’d probably die if we ever broke up.”

“and you’d be fine?” he asks incredulously—he’s almost distressed at the idea, staring at you in slight hurt that makes you laugh before setting your calculus homework aside.

you grab his arm and pull him into your side, kissing his head as he slumps onto your chest.

“i don’t know, i don’t think i’d mind watching a mopey satoru beg me to take him back.”

“you don’t deserve me,” he grumbles, “i deserve to be loved and cherished. i’m a catch.”

“i bet you’d make that ugly face of yours when you cry,” you tease, making him look up at you with an offended gasp.

“i’ll have you know i’m exceptionally pretty when i cry. the waterworks have gotten me loads of things from my mom—i’m irresistible.”

“you’d probably be on your knees in seconds,” you continue to poke fun at him, “please take me back. i’m nothing without you, baby,” you mock his voice, giggling as he glares at you unimpressed.

“now you’re just being a bully. do you even love me?”

“i do,” you grin softly, pecking his cheek, “i love you a ton. you know that.”

“you don’t act like it,” he grumbles.

you laugh, hugging him tighter as your fingers slip into his hair again. sometimes, you think you should be shocked you’re here—laying in bed with gojo satoru and kissing his cheeks as he pouts. you of the past might just kill you of the present if you saw yourself now….but something about gojo is charming enough that you can overlook the very annoying first impression you had.

enough that maybe….well, maybe you might also be a bit hopeless without him—but you’ll never tell him that.

something tells you he knows, though, when he wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you impossibly closer, kissing the corner of your lips as he grins.

“what about that time you got soooo jealous?” he grins, “we weren’t even together yet. and remember that time you begged my mom to take home baby pictures of me? you’re obsessed,” he says proudly, “i would be too. i’m adorable.”

“you’re a pain is what you are,” you mutter.

“i love you too,” he chuckles, burying his head into your shoulder.

you grin, the curves of your lips painted with love as they find his forehead, pressing delicate kisses to the skin. maybe being paired for a semester long project with the annoying rich boy in your class wasn’t so bad—maybe you owe finding the softest love you’ve ever had to the strict and unpleasant professor who gave you an A- when you definitely deserved an A.

“and how are you so sure i love you?” you ask playfully. he rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers with his.

“because you haven’t hit me with your car yet,” he bites back, making you laugh brightly.

plssss i want him so bad i cannot take it anymore every day without him feels like pins and needles in my skin it’s utter agony i feel like my life’s meaning has been stripped from me i feel like my lungs and heart both burn from the lack of oxygen i feel like i am but an empty shell with no soul lost and wandering the planet searching for a reason to go on

ps. if you have been reading along w rb! gojo i hope you caught some of the references to old drabbles ;)

#teepods.writings #drabbles. #rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff

[wintersoldiersoul]

Aftercare

A/N: Can't stop thinking about fluffy aftercare with Bucky so here's something short I just wrote

Warnings: tiny bit of smut, aftercare, tooth rotting fluff

“One more for me, baby girl, come on, you can do it,” Bucky encouraged as he pounded into you relentlessly. He had your legs up by your head, cock plunging in and out of your cunt, sending you barreling into your sixth orgasm of the night. You were absolutely exhausted but someone still not satiated yet. You still needed him.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled out, feeling another orgasm creeping up. “I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum so hard! Fuckk!” Your words were practically just screams as you came, squirting and soaking the sheets below you.

Bucky’s thrusts grew sloppy as his breathing got heavy and he shot his load into you. “Ohh my god,” he repeated as he rode out his high.

When you were both finished, he carefully removed himself from inside of you and lowered your legs slowly. You were breathless, laying limp with your eyes closed, utterly spent after the amount of intense orgasms you had. “You with me, baby girl?” Bucky asked, voice dripping with concern and love. 

“Mhm,” you nodded lazily, eyes still closed.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna get a towel to clean you up, okay?” You felt his weight leave the bed and heard the water running in the bathroom. “Gonna be really gentle, okay sweetheart? I just gotta get you all clean.” You shuttered as you felt the towel, still incredibly sensitive. He was so light with his touch, taking his time to make sure that you were all clean. He went back to the bathroom to dispose of the towel and quickly came back to sit beside you on the bed. “Can you drink this for me, baby?” He said, handing you your water bottle from the night table. 

You sat up slowly, grabbing the bottle and taking greedy sips to rehydrate yourself. As much as you loved sex with Bucky, you loved aftercare almost more. You were both so emotional, so full of love for each other, even if he had treated you like his own personal toy just minutes prior. Your wellbeing was always his priority, during and after.

“How you feeling, angel?” He asked, returning the water bottle to the nightstand. “Can you give me words?”

“Feel good,” you said, sleepily. “Tired.” You moved your body so your head was buried in his chest. “Jus’ wanna cuddle with you.”

He smiled, loving the feeling of you in his arms. He loved taking care of you and making you feel safe and comfortable. He rubbed his hand up and down your back in the way he knew you loved. As he held you, he began to feel tears leaking onto his chest. “Hey,” he said, cupping your face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” His eyes were wide with concern.

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m okay. I don’t even know why I’m crying really. Just love you a lot.” 

He kissed your forehead and wiped your tears. “Hey, that’s okay, baby.” He smiled softly. “Lemme give you all the care you need, ‘kay? Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. I know that was a lot for you.”

You nodded before placing your head in the crook of his neck, reveling in the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “Was I good?” you asked quietly.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You always are, angel.” He kissed the top of your head as he held you, letting you use his body for whatever comfort you needed. “Do you wanna take a shower, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can walk,” you admitted. 

“Lemme run a bath, okay? Then we can get nice and cozy and go to sleep.” 

Once the bath was full, Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you, placing you down in the warm water before getting in himself. He grabbed your shampoo, running the soap through your hair before taking a bucket and gently washing it out. He repeated the same method with your conditioner, whispering sweet nothings and peppering your face with kisses the whole time. “I love you so much, baby. My perfect angel girl.”

When you were done, he helped you get changed into pajamas and got you settled on the bed. “You need anything else?” he asked.

“Just you,” you mumbled, holding out your hands. 

He smiled warmly as he crawled into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you both drifted off into a deep sleep.   

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #sebastian stan #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier #the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #fluff #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #aftercare #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #bucky imagine #fluff fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x you

[norrizzandpia]

Hiiii, could you do something with lando wanting to be protective of reader like her being afraid of something happening and him hugging her tightly to make sure she is safe w him 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

I need this man so bad and this just fueled that

Safe With Me, Love (LN4)

Summary: When a man at a club makes Y/n uncomfortable, touching her, grabbing her, Lando’s the first to stop it.

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, lando almost getting into a fight, verbal abuse, language, lando gets super angry, but major fluff at the end and all is well

Note: i am in no way trying to glorify sexual assault with this at all. What happens to a multitude of women around the world and incredibly disgusting, my heart goes out to all the victims of any kind of sexual assault.

There’s a loud boom from the speakers as Lando and Y/n sidle up next to each other in the dimly lit booth Max had secured for the night. Shot glasses and other drinks are scattered across the surface of the table, the majority of the liquid having been consumed by their friends who had tagged along. Max F and Pietra dance together on the floor while Oscar and Max V are left to grimace at the touchy exchanges between the couple left in their seats.

A dangerous hand high up on Y/n’s thigh has Max V gagging into Oscar’s shoulder, “When do you guys stop?”

Lando’s hazy eyes give him a quick glance before retreating back to his beautiful Y/n, “I don’t stop. She tries to make me, but let’s be honest, I never will.”

Oscar rolls his eyes and Max V throws back the rest of his drink. The two men get up and flee the area in a panic when Lando starts kissing her neck softly, knowing the boy is quite affectionate when he drinks. Y/n is a bit farther than her boyfriend on the drunk spectrum, making her more prone to accepting his PDA-filled advances. She snickers into his ear when his tongue lightly traces her skin and her hands dance in his hair when he whispers how much he loves her.

Y/n and Lando could not be more clingy when they’ve consumed alcohol. Everybody knows this. From the fans and media to their families, the couple has had multiple drunken exchanges where they were more than comfortable sharing how much their physical connection was just as strong as their emotional one.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Lando says as he pulls back, eyes roaming her face as his breathing turns shallow as if he’s completely taken aback by her beauty.

Y/n blushes, “Lan, if I had got a penny for every time you told me I was pretty, we would be billionaires just off that money, not even with your racing income. Pennies.”

Lando smiles at her as his head lulls to the side. Her back rests against the cushions of the booth while his is turned to the rest of the crowd, his entire front facing her with his hands on her hips, “Good. You should be told how pretty you are every second of every day.”

Her hand lays across his bicep as they look helplessly at each other, drunken smiles and breaths hitting the other’s face from the close proximity. In the midst of the deafening music, their moment is quiet and it reaffirms Lando in his idea that every day he would fall in love with his girl all over again.

His eyes are overwhelming and his look of love makes Y/n want to giggle and squeal, she needs a moment to herself. Lando’s face falls slightly when she mentions needing to go to the bathroom, “Let me go with you.”

Y/n stands from the booth and shakes her head at him with a light grin, “No, baby. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in five minutes tops.”

He’s persistent, his hand clutching hers still, “No, Y/n. Stay.”

Puppy dog eyes and a pouted lip threaten Y/n’s plan to calm down from Lando’s eyes, but she perseveres.

“You wanna know the truth?” She pops her hip out and stares down at him, his body warming at her sassy position.

He nods, “Always.”

She leans down to his ear and whispers, out of slight embarrassment and the fact that she doesn’t want him to genuinely see the effect he has on her, “You’re making me all flustered and I need to regain my composure.”

When she pulls back, Lando’s mouth has fallen open slightly in a smile with his teeth sticking out a little bit from his top lip, “Oh, well… Then, go right ahead.”

She nods at him before he loosens his grip and she disappears into the crowd. His eyes try to stay on her frame, wanting to make sure she gets to the bathroom, but clubs are always packed and the moment her hand leaves his, his sight of her is lost.

He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

—

Throwing away the used paper towel, Y/n exits the bathroom and is immediately slammed into a hard chest. She reels back, discreetly checking the stranger’s shirt for any makeup stains. When she finds none, she lets her natural kind demeanor shine through.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t see where I was going.” She gives, the man staring down at her in a way that puts her off.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her, but when she tries to move past him, his arm comes to hold her bicep.

“What’s your name?” He asks. Alarms sound off in her brain at his tightening grip, panic settling into her skin and suffocating her. He’s not much taller than her, maybe 5’6, if that. Though, with her short stature, he still intimidates her with the way he slightly towers over her. Lando would tower over him, she tries to tell herself.

Where’s Lando? Get to Lando.

His fingers on her arm don’t allow for that, however.

A smirk finds its way onto his grimy face as he repeats, “I asked you what your name was, sweetheart.”

Her eyes avert to the floor, “Uh, Y/n.”

Immediately, she knows she’s made a grave mistake. She’s not stupid, just completely lost at the way fear has enveloped her body. She knows she should never give out her name to strangers that grab her without her consent, she just is completely gone to the racing thoughts in her head.

“What a pretty name,” He speaks, grip relentless, “What’s a beautiful girl like yourself doing here alone?”

“I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend and his friends.” She smiles, hoping that the mention of her boyfriend will scare him off.

Happy endings aren’t always guaranteed, though.

The man moves closer, his breath down her face, “Aw, how cute. Who’s your boyfriend?”

In a leap of faith at the power of Lando’s name, Y/n murmurs, “Lando Norris.”

The man keels over with laughter, his grip staying put on her arm however, “Oh, love, how sweet. Are you one of those fan girls that think they have a chance? Lando Norris would never go for someone like you. No offense.”

Offense taken, bitch, she thinks.

Trying to defuse the situation, Y/n lightly pulls at her arm, “None taken. If you can let me go, that’s be great.”

Suddenly, his hand has maneuvered her against the wall, his face right next to her neck as he breaths her in. Turmoil floods Y/n when his other hand comes to trace up and down her thigh, trying to hike it up to his waist but failing when she clamps her legs together.

He whispers in her ear, “Don’t be a bitch. Everyone at this club would take one look at you and know you’re an easy slut. Let me get a taste of what everyone already has.”

Her eyes drown in tears as she tries to seek out help as they rest right outside the bathrooms. However, as ironic as it is, the usual busy bathrooms are ghost towns in the moment a man tries to sexually assault her.

He finally gets her thigh to wind around his waist when his strength overpowers her body and Y/n is taken back to the moments when Lando would manhandle her in bed. What she used to think was the biggest turn on has now turned into something horrifying and painful.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!” There’s shouting from the end of the hallway and the man invading her space moves off her in an instant. Her face whips around to meet Lando’s fiery one, his body stalking toward the man as Max V, Max F, and Oscar follow in tow. All four men are looking enraged, faces burning red at the scene they had just witness whilst Pietra turns around and bolts toward the front of the club. In her loud mind, Y/n knows it’s because Pietra is going to get security.

Lando reaches the man, grabbing the collar of his shirt and shoving him against the opposite wall. He screams in his face, “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH MY GIRLFRIEND LIKE THAT. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” He spits in the man’s face, “YOU’RE FUCKING DISGUSTING.”

Three burly men return with a distraught Pietra, pulling Lando off the strange man and immediately removing the man from the premises.

With the absence of him, Lando is quick to pull Y/n into his arms, feeling her melt into him. Nobody says anything as he holds her tightly, turning her away from the group so his back faces them and she can cry into his chest lightly with some kind of privacy. His hands clamp down around her body while she grips his shirt. There’s whispers of reassurance and love as he tries to soothe her nerves.

“Get me out of here,” She chokes out, letting her hands drift under his shirt to feel the warmth of his bare skin.

Lando nods as he kisses her temple, “Of course, my love.”

He leads her through the overstimulating crowd and out of the club where the man has been handcuffed and shoved into the backseat of a cop car. An officer approaches her as she’s curled into Lando’s body, asking her for a statement, but, with Lando’s credibility and fame, he speaks softly with the man and asks if he can get her statement another time.

“I think she just needs to go home right now.” He says as Y/n stays hidden in his chest.

Her cowering and shaking strikes a cord in the older man’s heart, “Yes, of course. That’s completely fine. Can I get your number so I can call later tomorrow? Does that work?”

Lando nods, “Yes, that’s perfect,” He lists off his number, the officer taking it down in his notebook. When the last number is drawn, he wishes the couple a calm night and retreats back to his partner.

Y/n tries to hang on to Lando as he tries to pawn her off into the passenger seat of his car. When her hands won’t unclasp from his waist, he leans down and meets her eyes.

His hand lightly rubs her knee, almost hesitant in not wanting to scare her anymore. He looks up at her before softly speaking, “I’m not going to leave you. I promise you that. After that, I will never let you out of my sight ever again. We’re just getting in the car to go home, baby. That’s it. I’ll be right next to you the rest of the night.”

She nods, looking down at her hands in the silence while Lando closes the door and jogs to the other side of the car, getting in.

The car ride back is quiet as Lando lets his hand roam over her thigh. Even though it’s a call back to what the man had done to her in that secluded corner of the club, she doesn’t feel fear or uncomfortable. All she feels is love and security as his fingers lightly trace over the moles and bumps of her leg. Lando’s hands, all of Lando, will never not be a safety net for her, she knows that.

Nothing could make her afraid of him.

He’s delicate with her as they walk to his apartment, an arm tightly around her waist as they wait in the elevator. When they reach his door, he sets her in front of him, between him and the door, as he unlocks it. When it opens, she walks in first and goes straight to the softness of his bed. She falls onto it, letting out a small groan at the comfort, before he catches up with her, his body looming over hers and smiling.

Her mascara must be running down her cheeks and her eyeliner must be smudged across the entirety of her face yet Lando’s face shows what it always does: the love he has for her beauty. Even in her worst moment, he thinks she is the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on.

“Can I get you out of your clothes? Unzip your dress and take it off along with your heels?” He’s clear and precise with his questions, not wanting to throw her a curveball or something that gets misunderstood.

She nods with a small smile, but Lando stays still, “I need words, pretty girl.”

She blushes in the midst of it all, “Yes, Lan, you can.”

“Perfect” He states before letting his hand gently coax her to sitting position, gliding down her back as her zipper trails with it. When his hands shimmy her dress down her legs, he throws it across the floor, moving to her feet next. He kisses her ankles softly as his fingers work slowly to unbuckle the shoes. When he gets them off, his girlfriend left in a bra and underwear, he moves to the dresser a few feet away. She sits there, exposed, and, while she feels as though she should be on complete alert or scared, she feels at peace. She watches as Lando rummages through his drawer, seeking out his pajamas for her, and she feels nothing but protected and completely loved, accepted by the man before her.

When he returns, her favorite hoodie and sweatpants of his in hand, he helps her into them. When she’s cozy and dressed, he changes into his pajamas in front of her, almost as if he’s trying to put himself at the same level as her. She had undressed in front of him, he undressed in front of her. He didn’t want her to feel as though there was some sort of power dynamic going on, no matter how far that was from the truth of what she was genuinely feeling.

When they’re both comfortable, he leads her into the bathroom and sits her on the counter, his body between her legs before he wipes her makeup off and does her skincare for her. If she wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from the night, she would’ve showered him in praise and a bit of teasing for knowing her routine perfectly, with each step being very clearly memorized. But, this wasn’t an ordinary moment, so she kept quiet as he took care of her. They brushed their teeth together, Lando’s hand keeping its place on her hip in a simple reminder that he was there no matter what.

And when they reached his bed once more, falling under the sheets and heaps of pillows and blankets, Lando brought her into him once more. Her head snuggled into the crook of his neck and his hands trailing up and down her back, he whispered soft words in her ear.

“I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“You are my entire life.”

“I will always be there to protect you.”

His words seep into her skin just like anxiety had hours before during one of the worst moments of her life. Though, this time, instead of worrying what would happen happen next or who would come to save her, all she could think of was the soothing hands on her back and the calming words of the man she would never stop loving.

Lando was it for her, if she hadn’t known that before, she knew it now. As he continued to hold her, never once letting her go throughout the entire night, she found solace within him.

And when morning came, the dreaded phone call from the officer who sought out her statement, Lando sat next to her with his hand in hers and his unwavering support shining through.

There genuinely wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.

He’d bury a body for her, kill for her.

Preferably, if she allowed him, kill the man who had touched her without consent.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris fic #lando smut #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris edit #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris x you #mclaren formula 1

[roosterforme]

Pink Christmas Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Flying in the annual holiday air show dressed as Santa Claus was just something Bradley considered to be part of his job. But when he meets an inquisitive little girl and her beautiful mom, suddenly he wants to make all of their Christmas wishes come true. The only problem is, your daughter actually believes he's Santa, and he's not sure how he's going to keep up the charade when he wants to pursue you as just Bradley.

Warnings: Fluff, language, single mom reader, mentions of loss of spouse

Length: 8000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Pink Christmas masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32. Written for @bellaireland1981 Winter RomCom Challenge

You sat on a beach towel in the grass with your face tilted up toward the warm sun and your five year old daughter on your lap. Never would you have imagined wearing short sleeves and enjoying this kind of warmth in December, but your life had turned unpredictable in the past twelve months. And that included leaving a city that was currently buried in snow for the perpetual summer of southern California. 

"Mommy! Look!" your daughter shouted unnecessarily loudly, making you laugh. She turned around with wide eyes to make sure you were looking where she was pointing as she adjusted her pink noise canceling headphones. "It's Santa!"

You slid her headphones off since it wasn't loud at the moment, and you looked out across the runway at the Miramar Air Show to see a tall pilot dressed as Santa Claus walking toward his fighter jet with a group of other pilots dressed as elves right behind him. "I see him," you told her, kissing her cheek as she bounced with excitement. "It looks like he's going to fly one of the airplanes."

"Why does Santa have an airplane?" she asked. "And where are his reindeer? And why are the elves getting in airplanes, too?"

You were saved from having to answer her questions as the aircraft engines fired to life for the finale of the show, and you put her ear protection back in place before putting your own earplugs back in. Honestly, you didn't know how to explain to your child who still believed in the magic of Christmas why Santa was taking off in a jet that said ROOSTER on the side of it. Frankly there were a lot of things you didn't know how to explain to her.

She clapped her hands when the jets swooped overhead in an impossible looking formation before looping back around and doing it again. Your heart melted as you watched her wave to the lead jet and shout, "Hi, Santa!" The planes roared overhead and shot upwards before coming back one by one to the land on the runway with such incredible looking ease.

When she whipped her headphones off herself this time, your daughter jumped to her feet with a huge smile on her face. "Let's go talk to Santa," she said, reaching back for your hand. 

But you already had your eyes glued on the pilot who quickly replaced his helmet with a white beard and Saint Nick hat. You couldn't help but watch him, enjoying that distant glimpse of him before he went into full Santa character again. He looked tall and strong as he climbed down the ladder in his bright red flight suit, and you had to look away as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. He waved to everyone in the crowd, and it felt like he was waving right at the two of you.

"Mommy!"

You knew she wasn't going to be deterred from this mission, so you got to your feet and let her tug you along as you tried to fold the towel one handed. "Sweetheart, Santa and his elves might be too busy to talk to us right now," you warned her as the group of six elves in bright green flight suits started fist bumping Santa Claus. And your steps faltered, because Santa somehow just got more attractive the closer you got.

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

"Who let you be Santa anyway?" Jake asked, tugging on his red and green striped hat with enormous elf ears attached to the sides. "This elf bullshit is a damn disgrace."

"I volunteered to be Santa before the rest of you got a chance. Do I look like I'd make a good elf?" Bradley asked, and Jake rolled his eyes. "No. I do not." He was the tallest one in the group, and luckily he was able to sweet talk Maverick into letting him be the one to don the beard and the red flight suit for today's Miramar for the Holidays event they all volunteered to fly for. 

"Maverick should have mixed things up and made me Santa," Nat said with her chin in the air. 

"But you're the cutest little elf I've ever seen," Bradley told her, earning a smack on the back of his arm from her helmet. "Ow!"

"Wait, are we complaining?" Mickey asked. "I like being an elf. And apparently we get free food and hot cocoa in the volunteers tent."

"Oh, shit. Really?" Reuben asked, craning his neck to look toward the tent in question.

Bradley was about to remind everyone that they were obligated to pose for photos with kids when he heard a voice calling out, "Santa! Hey, Santa!" He turned toward the four foot tall chain link fence as an adorable little girl dragged a grown woman in his direction. 

"Hey guys, we got company," he told the others as he adjusted his white beard and red hat. When he waved toward the child, she squealed in delight, and Bradley couldn't help but laugh. As she and the woman he assumed was her mom approached the fence, Bradley leaned on the top of it. 

"Ho, Ho, Ho! What's your name, Kiddo?" he asked her with a bright smile. But his gaze inadvertently shifted to how gorgeous you looked as you held her hand, and he gave you a wink. He wouldn't mind learning your name, too.

But the little girl was eyeing him skeptically. "Shouldn't you already know my name? My mom said I'm on the nice list!" she exclaimed, gesturing up toward you.

Oh. Shit. "Uh, well, you see..."

Luckily you bailed him out with an apologetic look. "Ellie, don't be rude to Santa. He probably didn't update our names to our new address yet."

"Oh. Yeah," Bradley said, nodding in agreement and smiling. "Of course now I recognize you, Ellie. And your mom, too. Rest assured, you're both on the nice list."

But the girl wasn't convinced. "Why aren't you fatter?"

You brought your hand up to cover your face and groaned as Bradley laughed. "I needed to be able to fit in my jet."

"Why do you have a jet? Where's your sleigh?"

Bradley jerked his thumb toward the others milling around behind him. "My elves and I are trying out our jets this year. Something new."

"What about your reindeer?" she asked, undeterred. You were looking at Bradley and half smiling, half grimacing as you mouthed I'm sorry. But he didn't mind at all. Ellie was keeping him on his toes. 

"Uh... they have the year off, per their union contracts. You certainly have a lot of questions, Ellie."

She nodded up at him with her hands on her hips. "I just want to make sure you're the real Santa. I've seen a lot of impostors at the mall."

Bradley had to stifle his laughter as you said, "I had no idea she was going to be like this. I'm so sorry, Santa."

"It's fine," he reassured you, noting that you weren't wearing any rings before he returned his attention to your daughter. "Okay, Ellie. What's it going to take for you to believe I'm really Santa?"

Her brow scrunched as she contemplated his question, and Bradley used the time to check you out. It was useless, he knew that, since he looked like an idiot in his fake beard at the moment. But damn, you were pretty. And your daughter was like a tiny, inquisitive version of you.

"Well," Ellie said with a little smirk, "you should know how old I am if you're the real Santa."

You quickly held your hand up over her head to help him out, and he counted your fingers. "Of course I know that you're five years old."

Ellie's eyes softened a bit as she said, "That's right! And what's my favorite color?"

This time you juggled the items you were holding and lifted up a set of noise canceling headphones. "That's easy," Bradley replied. "I know you love pink." 

Now Ellie was smiling up at Bradley as she said, "And if you still need to update our new address, then you must know where we moved here from."

Bradley glanced up to see you pretending to shiver and rub your hands along your arms. "You moved here from somewhere cold."

"That's right!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "It's you! You're Santa!"

"It's really me," Bradley said, sending her a wink and nodding at you as you bit your lip and grinned. "And don't you worry, I'll have my elves take care of getting your new address straightened out. But first, I need you to prove that you're the real Ellie."

She nodded in excitement. "Ask me anything!"

"What grade are you in?"

"Kindergarten," she said, eyes filled with joy.

"Yep, that's right. Only the real Ellie would know that." You were laughing now, and Bradley loved the way it sounded. "And what's your favorite animal?"

"Pandas!" 

"Mmhmm," he hummed, pretending he was impressed that she was passing this quiz with flying colors. "I'm almost convinced it's really you."

"Seriously," she told him. "Ask me anything, because I'm sure I'm not an impostor."

Bradley glanced up at you and smirked before leaning on the fence again, and then asked Ellie, "Tell me, Kiddo. What's your mom's name?"

She blurted it out immediately, and Bradley committed it to memory. When he looked up at you again, your gaze was focused on the ground, but you looked pleased if not a little sad. He wanted to know why. 

"Would the two of you like to come in here and look at the North Pole jets?" he asked, and Ellie started bouncing up and down immediately. 

"We don't want to waste any more of your time, Santa," you told him with an apologetic look. 

"You wouldn't be," he promised, and when he said your name, you smiled and looked off to the side like you were embarrassed. "Come around the fence. You can meet my elves." He pointed to the gate a ways down where a security guard was standing. Bradley waved to him and gave him a thumbs up which the guard returned. "Santa gets special privileges."

"Fine," you said softly. "We'll just come around and meet you then?"

"Looking forward to it," he replied, and then Ellie was taking off for the fence opening with you right behind her. Bradley turned toward the others and clapped his hands. "Listen up. This little girl, Ellie, thinks I'm really Santa," he informed them. "And she thinks you're all my elves."

"Fuck," Jake groaned. 

"I'm really hungry," Bob whispered. 

"I refuse to be nice to you, even in front of a child," Nat said blandly.

"Whatever," Reuben and Javy said in unison.

"I'm so excited!" Mickey giggled, adjusting his elf ears. 

"Just be nice, okay? Here she comes... with her mom," Bradley said, really enjoying the sight of you headed his way. He cleared his throat and knelt down as Ellie streaked toward him. 

"Can I sit in one of the North Pole jets?" Ellie asked while you shook your head apologetically. 

"Really, feel free to tell her no."

But Bradley just smiled and adjusted his white beard before he scooped the child up and stood. You looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue as he said, "Sure, Kiddo, if you think you can climb that ladder? It's really tall."

"Yeah, I can do it!" Ellie said, looking past him at his F/A-18 and clapping.

"Sound okay, Mom?" he asked you, and you bit your lip and smiled. 

"Great. While Ellie and I are up there talking about what's on her Christmas list, why don't you give your information to my sweetest and most loyal elf, Phoenix."

Nat rolled her eyes at him so hard before she turned to you with a smile, and Bradley had to walk away before he started laughing too hard to stay in character. 

"Your elf is named Phoenix?" Ellie asked as he carried her toward the ladder. "What are the other ones named?"

Bradley chuckled. "They're all pretty silly sounding," he said as he set her down a few rungs from the bottom. "The big one is Payback. The one who can't stop smiling is Fanboy. The one that's yawning is Coyote. Bob is the one with glasses. And the cranky one is Hangman."

"He looks like he could use a candy cane," she said as she started to climb. 

"I think you're probably right. I should feed all of them more sweets." 

Once they reached the top, he hoisted her over the edge and climbed onto the seat behind her. "Do you want to talk about what's on your Christmas list?"

"Yeah," she said with a sigh as she plopped down on his knee and looked at him with concern. "We didn't bring most of our decorations and stuff when we moved, because there were already too many boxes."

"Oh," Bradley grunted, patting her on the shoulder. Now he was even more curious than before about where the two of you had moved from and why as his gaze met yours where you stood below with Phoenix. "Well you'll need a Christmas tree for your presents to go under."

She nodded and finally smiled when Bradley looked at her again. "The only thing I really want is a pink one!"

He blinked at her a few times. "A pink tree?"

"Yeah!  A pink Christmas tree! And an art set with pink paint."

Bradley nodded, figuring he could probably make that happen. "Sounds monochromatic but fun. Anything else?"

Ellie looked down at you and waved. Your brilliant smile for your daughter was so lovely, Bradley found himself waving too, which made you laugh. "Nothing else for me," Ellie whispered. "But something for my mom."

"Oh yeah?" he grunted when you blew a kiss up to them. Damn. He knew it was for your daughter, but he kind of wanted one of his own. "What do you think Santa should bring for your mom?"

"A boyfriend."

His gaze jerked back to Ellie's, but she looked completely serious. "You want me to get your mom a boyfriend?"

She nodded and said, "One that's tall and will play dolls with me sometimes and eat dinner at our new house. And he has to be really nice. Just like my dad was."

Bradley leaned in a little closer and wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders. "What happened to your dad?"

"He died last year," she said matter-of-factly. "But I'm sure you knew him, because he was definitely on the nice list."s

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

You watched as your daughter gave the naval aviator she was convinced was Santa Claus a big hug. He actually looked a bit ridiculous in the bright red flight suit and hat with the white beard, but Ellie seemed to have bonded with him in some way. They were laughing together about something she whispered to him, and then he was patting her head. 

"I'll see what I can do for you, okay Ellie?" he told her, and you wondered if his voice really was that deep all the time. 

"Thanks, Santa!" She came trotting over to you and took you by the hand. "I'm ready to go home now," she told you with a smile as the 'elves' waved goodbye. A startled laugh escaped you, because the entire afternoon felt very surreal. You just gave your phone number and your new address to someone named Phoenix who was dressed as an elf even though she was definitely also a naval pilot. And now you were waving to Santa Claus who you were left to assume was named Bradley Bradshaw based on what was painted on the side of his jet. 

"Did you have a fun time with Santa?" you asked as you walked back toward the opening in the gate, chuckling at your own words. 

"Yeah. He's really nice. I could have probably stayed and talked to him all night," she replied, and when you turned back he was still looking at you. The casual wave of his hand made your heart skip a beat. You really wanted this again. That familiarity with another person. The ease. The perpetually happy child next to you.

"Yeah... he seems pretty great."

But you were really annoyed with yourself when you spent nearly a full hour after you got Ellie in bed imagining what his face might look like without the fake beard. It had barely been three months since you stopped wearing your wedding rings. It was just over a year ago that your husband died unexpectedly. You were decidedly not in the market for dating anyone while Ellie was this young, because she deserved all of your attention. So why were you thinking about this Bradley guy and how sweet he was with your daughter?

You collapsed onto your bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand. You didn't do the wordle yet for today, and you still needed to check the weather for tomorrow. But you got distracted by a text from a number you didn't recognize. 

Hey, it's Bradley Bradshaw. I mean Santa. I hope you don't mind me texting you.

You sat up in your bed so quickly. Your stomach lurched as butterflies took up residence, and your fingers quivered a little bit as you gripped your phone. What were you supposed to do? "Text him back," you muttered to yourself. "Get a grip." 

You looked across the room at your wedding photo on your dresser. It had been in one of the few moving boxes you managed to unpack already, and it made you smile every time you looked at it. Right now was no exception; that was one of the best days of your life. But when you looked back down at your phone, you didn't feel a pang of sadness or regret. You felt intrigued. So you saved Bradley's number and then texted him back.

I don't mind one bit. I'm happy to have the chance to thank you again for earlier. You made Ellie's day! Mine, too!

And then you waited with your phone in your hand, half embarrassed and half excited by the idea of getting another text from him.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Your daughter is a bit of a spitfire. I was very entertained by her. And there's no need to thank me. It was the highlight of my day.

Dealing with your sassy five year old was the highlight of his day? You squealed and had to set your phone down while you walked around your room for a few minutes. The highlight of his day? He was a fighter pilot! He flew a jet around at the air show!

"Oh god," you groaned, crawling back across your bed to your phone. You were already a lost cause. Over a man who had been dressed as Santa Claus? Ridiculous.

But now you were scrambling over what to type back to him. Send him a Santa emoji? No. You were flustered as you sent him the first random thing that came to your mind.

You make a great Santa. You know, in case you ever contemplate a career change.

You looked at the words on your phone screen and cringed. You glanced back at your wedding photo and sighed. If that was your best attempt at flirting, then it was amazing you'd ever been married at all. And this man you met today didn't even seem bothered that you had a kid. That was a miracle in itself. You got ready to toss your phone aside for the night when he sent back a smiling emoji and another text.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I'll keep that in mind as a potential retirement gig. 

You wanted to tell him he looked pretty good in a fake beard. You wanted to tell him you were curious what he looked like without it. You wanted to keep him talking a little bit longer, because you could feel the adrenaline fueled blood pumping through your body, and it felt exciting. But before you could even say anything else, Bradley had you burying your face in your pillow so you could scream without waking Ellie up.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: But here's the thing. I'm an absolute sucker for cute girls. When can I see the two of you again?

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

Bradley had to wait a little bit for a response from you, and he was sweating. He didn't want to push too hard, especially after Ellie told him her dad died, but he was intrigued. Plus, he was already googling pink Christmas trees. 

Ellie's Mom: Ellie and I are kind of suckers for sweet Santas. What did you have in mind?

He lounged back in his bed with a smile on his face. Was he about to drop five hundred bucks on an eight foot tall pink tree? Hell yes. Especially since you just called him sweet. 

Ellie asked Santa for a pink Christmas tree. I want to order it tonight if you can confirm it will fit in your house. And then I'd love to come by and set it up one day.

You wrote back almost immediately after he sent the link to the tree. 

Ellie's Mom: You don't have to buy that for her! It's so expensive! Honestly, you don't need to buy her anything!

Bradley sighed. The kid thought he was really Santa Claus, so there was no way she wasn't getting a pink tree and a pink art kit. It was the boyfriend request that made him chuckle, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in the idea of seeing you again. 

But I want to. Any chance you can measure the space for me?

He had to wait a little bit longer again for you to answer, but this time he was rewarded with photos that had him sitting up in bed and staring at his phone. 

Ellie's Mom: I can't find a measuring tape in all these moving boxes, but here's the spot where a tree could go. And here I am for reference.

You were smiling in the selfies, looking a little shy but just as pretty as earlier today, and you had on a shirt that looked so soft, he wanted to touch it. "God damn it," he grunted, already tapping out a response. 

I think Santa should stop by in person and check the measurements, just to be on the safe side. Also, you're gorgeous.

"Oh fuck," groaned after he hit send. He really didn't mean to come on so strong, especially since he just met you. He busied himself with ordering the pink tree that he was sure would fit in that spot along with some colorful ornaments and tried not to count the minutes until you wrote back.

Ellie's Mom: We'll be home on Monday evening. I'm sure Ellie would love another visit from Santa. And so would I.

Bradley wrote back letting you know roughly what time he could stop by, and then he started to formulate a plan. 

On Monday, in the locker room after work, he changed out of his regular flight suit and showered before zipping himself into his bright red one. His measuring tape, beard and Santa hat were already waiting in the Bronco, and he swung by his favorite bakeshop on his way out of Coronado. The place was packed with customers placing orders for Christmas goodies, so he was happy he decided to call ahead. He grabbed the box he already paid for and got back on the road, following his GPS across the city to the outskirts of town.

Your place was a cute town home with a pink Christmas wreath on the door and the windows lit with a warm glow as the sun set. Bradley got his Santa beard and hat situated using his rearview mirror, and then he grabbed the box and the measuring tape and made his way up to the front porch. As soon as he knocked, his heart beat a little faster, and a few seconds later, you were opening the door for him with a smile. 

"Hey, Santa," you said softly with a crooked little smile. Bradley took you in from head to toe, his eyes catching on your lips and your pink sweater as he heard Ellie come bounding down the stairs. 

"Santa!"

He looked past you just in time to see your daughter come streaking toward him wearing a pink dress and launching herself into his arms. He bent and caught her a little awkwardly as he laughed. "What are you doing here?" she asked as she hugged him. 

"Came to make sure you're still on the good list." Bradley grinned up at you where you stood biting your lip. "Well, Mom? Has she been listening and behaving?"

You nodded. "Yes, Santa. She's been very well behaved."

"Excellent," he replied, releasing Ellie and handing her the box which she opened right away.

She gasped and looked up at him. "Pink Christmas cookies?"

"Yeah, I just thought the two of you might like something sweet."

You were looking at him with softly parted lips, and then you said, "Aren't we supposed to be leaving cookies out for you later this month?"

"I wouldn't complain if you did," he replied as Ellie handed you a pink snowflake cookie. He watched you bite into it, and he realized he was staring. 

"Want one?" Ellie asked, tugging on his hand. 

"No, those are for the two of you, Kiddo. I'm really here to measure the room for your pink tree. I want to drop it off before Christmas so there's something for your presents to go under."

Ellie screeched and nearly dropped the cookies all over the floor as you took the box from her. She pulled Bradley into the living room and showed him where she wanted her tree to go, and then she helped him measure the space while she asked him what he wanted for Christmas.

"Does Mrs. Claus get you something every year?" she asked, eyes wide and focused on him. 

He wasn't sure how to answer her as he knelt on the floor with the measuring tape in his hand. So he decided to just be honest. "I actually don't have a Mrs. Claus yet."

When Ellie's eyes drifted from him up to you where you stood a few feet away, Bradley couldn't help but follow suit. "Mommy," she whispered. "We need to get something for Santa."

"Okay," you whispered back, barely glancing at Bradley before looking back at your daughter. "We can do that."

Ellie turned back to him and asked, "If I leave a present under the tree on Christmas Eve, will you know it's for you when you get here?"

"Of course. Just write my name on it so I know it's mine." Then she kissed him on his cheek right above his white beard, and Bradley melted a little bit inside. 

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

You and your daughter waved from your front door as Santa left with his tape measure and one of the pink cookies. Ellie insisted he take the one that was decorated like a reindeer with him, and you watched as he ate it while he started up his vintage blue Bronco. When he honked and waved goodbye, Ellie jumped up and down. 

"Santa's bringing me a pink tree!" she gushed, and honestly, you were feeling a little silly over that man, too. Your skin tingled as you closed the door and looked at the rest of the cookies. You felt like he was spoiling the two of you even though you barely knew him. 

"Let's go get ready for bed," you whispered, ushering her toward the stairs before you took the cookies to your kitchen to have a moment to yourself. Last Christmas had been a nightmare as it was just a few weeks after you lost your husband, and now you'd moved to San Diego to have a fresh start with a new job and a new school and a new city. You couldn't handle another holiday in the house that the three of you had shared. 

California was warm and welcoming, but the last thing you had expected to find here right away was a man that made your heart skip a beat. You knew your husband wouldn't want you to give up the idea of dating someone else, but you'd convinced yourself that nobody would want the two of you even though Ellie was a sweet kid. 

You set the pretty cookies down on the counter and sighed. Bradley didn't seem to mind that Ellie was around. If anything, he seemed to really like her. He was buying her a tree even though you told him he didn't have to do that. You were more than capable of getting one, but he wasn't going to be deterred. 

And Ellie definitely liked him, helped in part by the fact that she seemed completely convinced he was actually Santa. 

"You don't even really know what his face looks like," you groaned as you closed the box and headed upstairs. It didn't even matter though, because you could still tell he was handsome with the kind of brown eyes you just wanted to keep looking at. But how embarrassing were you? Crushing on him like this.

After you got Ellie in bed, you texted Bradley to say thank you, and he wrote back immediately. 

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: It was my pleasure.

You imagined him saying those words in his deep voice in person, and you were still thinking about him the next morning when you woke up. You picked up your framed wedding photo and sighed in exasperation. "He reminds me a bit of you, honestly," you told your deceased husband who smiled back from the frame. "He's funny and kind of sweet. Maybe I just miss you. I don't know."

But you found yourself unable to get much work done from your home office while Ellie was at school. You kept sneaking down to the kitchen to get pink cookies, and by late afternoon, you caved like a house of cards and texted Bradley.

I can't stop thinking about what you might look like without your Santa beard and hat.

You set your phone down on your desk and stared at it. What were you, fucking insane or something? You must be. After twenty minutes with no response, you grabbed a sweatshirt and went for a walk around the block without your phone. You had forgotten how to flirt. That had to be what was going on here. You no longer knew how to be normal or subtle in any way, because it had been so long since you needed to be. When you moved to San Diego to start over again, you must have forgotten to pack your ability to act chill in front of men you were attracted to. 

You stood on your front porch and took a deep breath before heading back inside. You needed to stop this. After Bradley came back with the pink tree for Ellie, he wasn't going to want to keep hanging out anyway. It was better to just stop this thing in its tracks right now. You ran back upstairs to your desk and grabbed your phone. He probably hadn't responded yet, which was great, because you could text him again and tell him you were just joking.

"Haha," you muttered as you sat down. "Just kidding, Santa."

But he had already replied. Oh. And he sent a selfie. Oh my. "Oh my god." He was even hotter than you imagined. He had a mustache. A real one, not the white one. He wasn't wearing the red hat either, and as a result, you got to see how soft his light brown curls looked. And he was smiling, his lips and his eyes already familiar to you. Then you made a small, strangled sound as you read the accompanying text.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Greetings from North Island... I mean, the North Pole. And by the way, I can't stop thinking about you either.

You literally melted out of your chair and onto the spare bedroom floor. You thought about reaching for your computer to put up your out of office message, but you couldn't stop looking at the photo long enough to focus on anything else. You were laying on your back looking at your phone, and you nearly dropped it on your face when he wrote back again.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: The tree should arrive on Thursday. I was thinking I could take a half day at work and come over to set it up on Friday afternoon while Ellie is at school? Then I could see you again, too...

You rolled onto your front and started typing. Of course you wanted him to come back on Friday. You hit send before you realized that you'd be here alone with him. You'd have no five year old to buffer yourself from almost certain embarrassment.

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

Everyone else was picking out poinsettias or red and green blooms, but when Bradley got to the florist, he asked for a big bouquet of pink flowers as well as a smaller one. Just pink flowers. Nothing else. He paid and left with both of them in one hand and ran back across the street to his Bronco. 

He was running late. He told you he'd be there around one o'clock, but it was already half past. Of course he needed to shower before he left work at noon, since he smelled like jet fuel, and then he had to stop back at home and load the tree and everything else into the Bronco before he could head to your place. 

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he didn't want to spend as much time with you and Ellie as possible right now. Frankly he was looking forward to spending a little time alone with you, even if it was just while he was putting the tree up. When he finally made it across town, he checked the time and winced before running up the sidewalk and knocking. And if he was already a little bit out of breath, it only got worse when you opened the door and smiled at him. 

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I realized on my way here that I must have been overzealous when I told you I would be here by one."

You grinned and shrugged. "It's okay. Come on in." You closed the door behind him and asked, "Are those for Ellie?" You were gesturing at the flowers he forgot he was holding. 

"Oh," he said, pulling the bouquets apart. "One's for you." Your eyes went wide as he held the bigger bunch out, and your fingers brushed his when you took it. "The little one's for Ellie."

You were looking up at him in surprise and your voice was soft as you said, "Thank you." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't know what your favorite color was, so I went all in on the pink."

You were grinning again as you buried your nose in one of the fuchsia colored roses. "It's pink. Good job, Santa."

Bradley laughed. "I should have known. The two of you have me seeing pink everywhere now."

"I'm not sorry about that," you said, reaching for the other bouquet. "I'll put these in the kitchen."

He handed it over and said, "And I'll bring the tree inside." He watched you turn away from him, and he kept his eyes on you until you were almost out of sight which resulted in you turning around and catching him staring. He didn't mind. 

Bradley made two trips inside with the tree and all of the lights and ornaments, but you must have still been in the kitchen. Or maybe you went upstairs or something. He'd been hoping you wanted to hang out a little bit and chat, but he already had the enormous tree box open with pink branches spilling out of it when you returned with two mugs. 

"I made you some hot chocolate." 

Nobody had made him a mug of hot chocolate since he was a kid himself. "You did?"

"Yeah. But if you don't want it, that's fine." You looked a little shy now, so he stood and reached for the pink mug you were offering to him. 

"I love hot chocolate. I just don't drink it much now that I live where it's usually warm."

"Where are you from?" you asked before you pursed your pretty lips and blew on your drink.

Bradley smirked. "Would I be remiss if I told you I'm actually from Virginia and not the North Pole?"

Your bright laughter had him taking a step closer to you. "Not at all. Just don't tell Ellie that. She's already working on a Christmas present for you. I mean for Santa."

"Is she really?" he asked, suddenly unable to stop smiling. When you nodded, he asked, "What is it?

"I can't tell you! That would ruin the surprise."

"Yeah... don't tell me. I wouldn't want to disappoint her." Bradley took a sip before setting his mug down on a coaster and kneeling in front of the tree box. 

You cleared your throat as he started pulling branches out. "How long have you been living in San Diego?"

"About six years. I finally got a permanent station at North Island after moving around. A lot." He lined all of the pieces up on the floor as you took a few steps closer. 

"How old are you?" you asked him. When he glanced up, you added, "If you don't mind me asking."

He smiled. "I don't mind you asking me anything you want to ask me. I'm thirty seven."

"How are you possibly single?" you blurted out before hiding your mug in front of your mouth. "I'm sorry." You paced back and forth across the living room a few times as you said, "I'm so bad at this. Like epically bad at it. Because I haven't had to do it in so long."

"Do what?" he asked, trying not to laugh as you came to a stop right in front of him. 

You made a cute little sound before you whispered, "I have forgotten how to even attempt to flirt with a man."

He had to press his lips together to hold his laughter in. You were actually serious right now. "I thought you were doing alright."

"You did?" you asked, gaping up at him. 

"Yeah. I mean, you sent me those cute selfies when you didn't have a measuring tape."

You licked your lips and took a step away from him. "No one has called me cute since my husband died."

Bradley could feel his lungs deflating. He hated that you had to live through that. He was also selfishly a little afraid you were going to tell him you weren't looking to date again. This was really the only reason he hadn't asked you out already. Well, that and the fact that your daughter was currently convinced he was Santa Claus. 

But he thought he should try his luck. "Someone should be calling you cute every day. You and Ellie both. Like I said, I'm a complete sucker for cute girls."

You looked a little flustered now as you sipped your hot chocolate, so Bradley returned to his mission of putting the massive tree together in the corner of your living room. When he paused to drink from his own mug, you came over to help him. Wordlessly, the two of you assembled it until it was too tall for you to reach. 

When you handed the top part of the tree to him, he whispered, "Thanks." Your hand seemed to linger on his. Or maybe he imagined it. 

"It's nice having someone so tall around," you said. "You must have no problems putting your own tree up."

"Nah," he said, sliding the last piece into place. "I don't even put one up at home. Seems like a waste when it's just for me."

"You don't have a tree?" you asked, and your hand came to rest on his forearm. Bradley's eyes snapped to yours as you said, "If you can continue to handle all the pink... maybe you'd want to come back over and enjoy this one with us?"

"As Santa?" he asked. "I really got myself into a mess with Ellie, didn't I?"

You bit your lip as you looked up at him. "Yeah... she's kind of attached to Santa now."

Bradley was fighting the urge to just kiss you, because you were right there. And you probably tasted like hot chocolate. And the closer you got, the prettier you looked. 

"Should we add the lights?" you asked softly, your hand still on his left arm. "Before Ellie gets home?"

Very slowly, he raised his right hand so there would be no doubt in your mind what was coming. He traced your cheek with his fingertips as your eyes fluttered closed. "Yeah. Let's do the lights and the decorations before she gets back. I didn't bring my beard and my hat today."

"Okay," you breathed, leaning into his touch for a beat before you released his arm and pulled away. "I'll... get the lights ready." You turned and started to open some of the boxes of white twinkle lights while Bradley got the ornaments opened up.

He took out the pink and silver star, and when he reached up toward the top branches, you wrapped the lights around him and the tree at the same time. "If you want to keep me here with you, just say so. You don't need to tie me up."

You laughed. "I couldn't keep you even if I wanted to. You're Santa Claus, remember? You have a million toys to deliver next week."

Bradley caught you gently by the arm as you looped the lights around his back again. "To be crystal clear, I'm only doing this for you and Ellie. Nobody else."

You wrapped the lights a little tighter and said, "To be crystal clear, I like the way that sounds."

Bradley smirked as you finally loosened the strand and freed him. "Listen," he said as he followed you slowly around the tree as you put the lights on correctly this time. "Santa doesn't have time to play games before Christmas. He's very busy."

"Really?" you asked, looking back at him as you strung the lights higher and higher on the pink tree. "This kind of feels like a game to me, Santa."

He took over with the strand once it got too high for you to reach, and when he was done, he watched you pick up one of the boxes of ornaments. There were a bunch of pink and blue hearts and stars, and you smiled up at him. So he decided to go for it. Because he knew this was a rare opportunity he'd been given. "Santa is actually pretty serious right now. About you."

When you immediately returned your gaze to the box in your hands, Bradley ran his hands through his hair. You looked a little flustered again, just like you had when you claimed you forgot how to flirt. Whatever you were doing to him, he liked it. He liked how it felt to be around you and Ellie, too. He ducked behind the tree to plug the lights in, illuminating everything in a soft, pink glow, and then he tried to find the energy to help you finish the tree without pushing this any further.

"Hey, Santa?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached for an ornament from the box you were holding. 

You seemed to weigh your words before you said them which had Bradley's heart beating a little faster before you even spoke. "I wasn't planning on anything serious. Not really ever again."

"Oh." Serious was the kind of thing he was looking for now. Serious was actually what he wanted. He hung the pretty blue heart shaped ornament and then let his hand fall to his side. His heart felt heavy like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake as you reached up in front of his face to hang a pink and white heart next to his blue one.

"At least that's what I thought before we moved here," you added.

He looked at you with one raised eyebrow. "Something changed your mind?"

"More like someone," you whispered, handing him another pink heart ornament which he carefully hung just above the other two. He wanted to know for sure if he was the one that changed your mind, but you pulled your phone out of your pocket and gasped. 

"Ellie's bus should be here in a couple minutes."

"Right," he said softly. You and he finished decorating the tree, not so subtly stealing glances at each other the whole time. If there was even a chance with you, he wanted to take it, but he didn't want to press any harder today. 

When he reached for his empty mug, you shook your head and said, "You can leave it. I'll clean up later."

"Okay." With nothing else keeping him at your house he started to head for the front door, but you caught his hand in yours. 

"Wait." Your eyes were wide and a little hesitant, but when you tugged gently, he went willingly, slowly closing the distance between you body and his. "Thank you. For the tree and the ornaments. And the cookies. And the flowers."

He shook his head. "It's my pleasure. You don't have to thank me again."

"But I want to," you whispered, running your thumb along the back of his hand. "I want to do a lot of things. But they feel a little scary." When you paused, he didn't rush you. Your eyes were taking in every detail of his face, and you were smiling softly. "Things I haven't done in a long time. Things I never anticipated I'd be doing again. At least not while Ellie is so young."

Bradley opened his mouth, intending to tell you he could wait a few weeks or months to ask you out if that would make things easier for you, but you tugged gently on his hand again, rendering him silent. When your other hand came to rest on his chest, he held his breath. Your gaze stayed locked on your hand as you slowly guided it up along his shoulder and collarbone until it came to rest gently on the scars on the side of his neck. 

The soft stroke of your thumb and even the gentle flex of your fingers could have brought him to his knees. And then you finally met his eyes. "I really want to," you murmured as you stood on tiptoes, your chest brushing his. Bradley's brain took a beat longer to respond than his heart did, but when you tilted your face up to his and let your eyes flutter shut, he closed the distance to your lips with his. 

And it was perfect. The softest kiss of his life, but he could feel his entire body responding to you. With a soft gasp, you released his lips, but you didn't go far. When you met his eyes, you must have liked what you saw there, because you kissed him again. And again. And when Bradley guided your other hand around his neck, you kissed him a little deeper. 

"Oh," you gasped, running your nose along his cheek as your fingers teased the back of his neck. When your lips met his again, he held you close with his hands on your lower back, and Bradley decided he could do this forever. All of it. The pink flowers and decorating the tree and the perfect kisses. 

Then the front door knob rattled, and you broke away from his lips. Your eyes looked hazy at first, and you had the prettiest smile on your face before you pulled yourself out of his grasp as Ellie came inside. Your daughter looked back and forth between the two of you as you pressed your fingertips to your lips, and Bradley winced as Ellie asked him, "Who are you?"

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

Bradley! I mean, Santa! Where is your beard?! I hope you loved part one! Part two is coming soon. This one took a village so thank you to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @cherrycola27

PART 2

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #pink christmas #winterromcomchallenge

[bigfatbimbo]

new(ish) anon here. I’ve been lurking for a while but here’s my first prompt/request. sorry if you’ve already written something like this

vox would try so hard to come across as a dom. he’s the head of a voxtek and he has so much power over everyone, including people. so when he gets with you, he’d try so hard to show how dominant he is, only to come apart with each touch he receives. he’d keep losing control until he’s a pathetic, whimpering mess under you.

thank you -📺

a/n — I absolutely eat this idea up. Sometimes I just look at Vox and get this incredible desire to be cruel and terrible.

Also I took a lot of inspiration from that one anon who had a similar idea! Just basically turned it into a whole fic.

At first you were okay with it, him having the power in the dynamic. It was an interesting change from usual so you decided to give it a try.

He was alright at first, even good at what he was doing. 

“That’s right, take it, slut,” He muttered harshly as he slid his dick into you.

However, it only took a couple thrusts before he started getting sloppy. You noticed his body start to shake above you, how his harsh words turned into quiet whimpers.

“Fuck, just like—nzz—just like that,“ he would try again, almost giving himself away when his voice cracked at the end.

“Everything ok, vox? You look a little—“ you gesture with your head as he sloppily thrusts into you, “—out of sorts.”

“No I— shut up,” he grunts and buffers slightly.

“Getting tired, already?” You tease as his hips begin moving more frantically. He squeezes his eyes shut as a high frequency starts coming from his head.

Your hands crept up his body and brush over his nipples. Then, finally, his body tenses and he lets out a disgusting, needy whine.

You don’t wait any longer. With on swift movement, you grab his hips and flip positions, leaving him underneath you.

“Hey! S—szz—stop that, you fucking slut i’m—“ he command comes off as more of a tantrum than a display of power.

You ride him so slowly it’s almost unbarable, he weakly attempts to thrust up into you. You shove back down forcefully and wrap your hand loosely around his neck, just strong enough to hold him in place.

“I’m obviously not the slut here, Vox,” You hiss down at him. 

He still squirms against you, “G—go faster, fuck,” he complained, his whines making him sound like an indignant child.

“Oh, I don’t think I will,” You hum against him, nails digging into his neck, “It’s embarrassingly clear you can’t handle calling the shots here, baby.”

“Nngh— bzz— yes I can I just—“ he whimpers uselessly, unable to think when you’re riding his dick so agonizingly slow. 

“Stop throwing a hissy fit and maybe i’ll speed up,” you say keeping your voice even. “Honestly, Vox, how did you ever expect to dominate me when you pout like a child when you don’t get your way?”

He whines and squirms below you, trying not to glitch out. 

“It’s honestly pathetic,” you laugh, speeding up a little bit when he refrains from arguing, “But, it is funny, how fast you fall apart.” 

He simply whimpers in response, screen lagging out almost as rapidly as his voice. He practically sinks into the mattress when you ride his dick faster. 

You start to hump him at a rapid, rough, pace, making his back arch him and his screen complete blank out for a couple seconds.

“You make it so much harder than it needs to be, Vox,” you grunt against him, “How hard is it to be good for me? Do you need to throw a fit every time?”

“Fuck— zzs—“ Vox cried out, trying not the thrust upward, trying to avoid anymore degrading words from you.

You were being so mean, and even though he knew it was his doing, he miserably craved validation from you after all of these harsh jeers.

Although it was getting harder to speak without incoherently glitching out, he tried his hardest to mutter out sorry excuses for apologies.

You took them into consideration and rode him faster, caressing his chest with your thumb. “I have to admit though, baby, you are so damn pretty when you’re like this.”

It was stupid, it was barely praise. And yet he grasped desperately at the strings of your approval. 

The frequency in his head got unbearably loud and he threw his hands to the stop of his screen and moaned loudly.

All of a sudden, your hips slowed to a stop, and you gazed down at him in disgust.

“Why’d you st—st—stop?” he whined up at you before realizing his mistake. He had came prematurely and without permission.

You grabbed his throat and he moaned, “Did I say you could do that, pretty boy?”

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his screen blank out for a couple seconds.

“And to think you tried to hold any power over me,” you practically laugh, “You cant even control yourself, you stupid whore.”

He hiccuped and let out a low whimper, “‘m sorry, ‘m so s—szz—sorry, please,” he cried, “‘need praise, I cant—“

His voice glitches out and the power flashes. You start riding him again as you take his wrists and hold them down on either side of him, preventing him from touching you as he squirmed and writhed below you.

“Earn it.” 

a/n — Maybe later tonight i’ll finally get out that one pegging Lucifer fic i’ve been teasing for the past four days but literally never finished.

The night is young!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #dom reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin vox

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Can we get a little 12 or 14 blurb from the clumsy prompt ☺️

number 14 for you lovely! “Hearing a crash or bang in the house and their partner isn’t in sight, cue immediate panic mode. meanwhile their partner just calls out casually that they’re okay or that something fell.”

There was a thump, a startling loud one, from upstairs.

Steve froze, eyes flickering upwards and his body tensing. Silence followed and the boy immediately dropped the spoon he’d been using to stir the macaroni, his shoulder colliding with the door frame in his haste to run to the stairs. His socked feet slipped on the floorboards, his brows knitted together in concern and as he reached the bottom of the steps, he called out, voice strained.

“Babe?”

He heard a small groan and some shuffling, his hand on the railing as he prepared himself to bolt up but your voice followed, suspiciously light and airy.

“It’s fine!” You called down to him. “Something just fell.”

Steve blew a breath from his nose, one eye twitching because he knew this, he knew you, but you were talking at least and that counted for something. His free hand went to his hip and if you’d seen him, you would have definitely called him a mother hen.

“Yeah?” He replied mildly. “Something fell?”

“Uhuh,” you shouted back. Something else clattered to the floor and Steve heard you swear under your breath.

He couldn’t see you from his position at the bottom of the stairs, but he could imagine your twisted pout, your pinched brows.

“Was it you?” Steve yelled.

A pause, a quiet bubble. He heard you sigh, long suffering and exasperated, a sign of you giving in. “Yeah,” you warbled, sounding incredibly mournful about your admission. “Yeah, it was me.”

Steve didn’t know if he should laugh or lecture you, so he just took the stairs two at a time instead. “You okay?” He asked as he made his way to the bedroom. He could see your shadow move under the door frame, so at least you had use of your legs. “You’re not bleeding, right?”

“God, I hope not,” you cracked. “M’wearing my favourite shirt— oh, hey.” Steve opened the door to you on the floor, crawling on your hands and knees you made a weak attempt to sweep up the fallen books.

“That’s my shirt,” Steve commented as he looked down at you.

You huffed, looking a little too warm and unharmed. No blood, no severed limbs. “I didn’t say it wasn’t,” you shot back, “I said it was my favourite.”

Steve snorted and held out his hands, grinning when you slapped your palms to his. He hauled you up, gentle as he examined you. No broken bones, no unfocused eyes.

“What did you do this time?” He murmured, taking your chin between a finger and thumb, tilting your head this way and that, checking for injuries. “Hmm? Apart from give me a damn heart attack.”

You frowned at the accusation, nipping at Steve’s fingers in response. “Couldn’t reach the top shelf,” you confessed. “Turns out I’m not eight foot tall and those shelves aren’t that strong.”

Steve gasped, all dramatic and faux surprise. “No way,” he whispered. “Who knew?”

You pulled a face, tucking your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and sighing. “Not me,” you mumbled against his throat, body going slack when the boy’s hands smoothed over the planes of your shoulders.

“Did know you have a boyfriend with much longer arms than you?” Steve mused. “He even played basketball.”

You grinned, pulling back from his embrace with a gasp as dramatic as Steve’s. “Oh my god, professionally?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at you, an almost glare except his lips were lifting into a smile despite how hard he fought it. “Yeah, you seem fine,” he mused, nose nudging yours.

“I’ll still take a kiss,” you told him, grinning. “For medical purposes.”

And how could Steve say no to that? He wasn’t cruel.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve Harrington blurb #Steve baby blurb

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : harry potter boys x keeper!reader

↳ harry, ron, draco, neville, fred, george, remus, and sirius with a partner who can wield ancient magic (hogwarts legacy style).

↳ requests are open! submit ideas, drabbles, headcanons, or one shots to the link in my bio! don’t be shy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

harry potter:

-thinks it is the coolest shit ever! when you're in a fight together and you protect him by shooting a powerful blue bolt towards the enemy that disintegrates their very beginning, he feels so proud to be your partner!

-on the other side, he also knows it feels like to have a lot of pressure and power on your side. he worries about what it must feel like to wield ancient magic and be the only living person who can see it. every time you use it, he checks on you after, ensuring that you don't feel too exhausted and can continue fighting.

-supported you so much through the trials. he didn't need to know every detail of what you did and went through but he would hold you so tight when you came back, praising you over and over for being so strong and brave.

ron weasley:

-he's a little jealous, ngl. like his partner can use this sick magic and is responsible for keeping the magic safe and alive out of the wrong hands?? why can't he do that???

-i also feel like ron would be confused, if not a little angry, that you refuse to share the power and attempt what others have before (such as isidora using the magic to remove pain). he doesn't really understand the problem and feels like the keepers are suspicious.

-he'd brag about you alllllll the time though! like oh my god every second he would find some way to bring up the fact that you can do really awesome things and that you are his awesome partner forever!

draco malfoy:

-draco loves you a lot and finds your magic incredibly cool, don't get me wrong, but i think his family swayed his pursuit of you because wouldn't it be so grand if the malfoys had a keeper in their family? someone so powerful and knowledgeable? who would pass down the truth and their magic? yes please! (every time narcissa brings it up, it irks draco but also he pats himself on the shoulder for choosing you)

-wants to know every detail about the trials and the past and the memories you're viewing! you'll come back from a trial, sweaty and tired, maybe bleeding, and he'd help you first then ask hundreds of questions after.

-your use of ancient magic is not necessarily unknown and makes you quite popular among the students of hogwarts. this, however, makes draco really jealous. if he could, he would follow you everywhere, glaring down anyone who tries to make a move on you. before you go on adventures, classes, or just to the common room, he'll drape you in his slytherin scarf as if he was marking you.

neville longbottom:

-poor thing gets so nervous when you have to complete the trials or do something incredibly important for the sake of keeping the magic safe. he knows he can't go along with you but he'd stay by your side until the very moment you enter the map chamber, whispering praises and support the whole time.

-would heal up all your wounds and take care of you if you exerted too much during a fight. he knows how much everyone depends on you and the least he can do is take care of you properly! he would run you a bath, apply soothing balms to your skin or use his plants to heal you up, and cuddle you tightly!

-tries his hardest to not feel useless but sometimes it's hard when you're so strong and he's so...not. of course you'll always reassure him and give him the confidence he needs but very frequently, he gets really down on himself about it.

fred weasley:

-every day he comes to you with a new scheme that involves your magic. could you make a portal that leads from the dungeons of hogwarts to the top of the astronomy tower? it's important. snape is gonna get really mad when he goes into his office? can your magic fix that?

-begs, and i mean BEGS, you to let him come along on your adventures and battles. he wants nothing more than to support you and fight along your side! as long it's not a trial, you can't help but let him come along. you usually end up saving him after he pays a little more attention to the way your whip around the battle, taking down everyone effortlessly.

-speaking of paying too much attention to you, he thinks it is so attractive than you can do what you do! he gives you some time after fighting to recuperate but then immediately he is ON you. he's kissing you and telling you how hot it is when you turn someone to just particles.

george weasley:

-he wants you to teach him everything you can. there are some things that are just simply innate and can not be taught but all your tips and tricks when it comes to fighting will now be all of his tips and tricks. you two would just find some field away from the burrow and go at it, sending spell after spell at each other. georgie is just overflowing with adrenaline and it's a great way to get it out.

-deep down, a part of him wants to be protective of you. he wants to keep you from going out into danger and taking on dangerous tasks all for magic and some old people telling you what to do. but he knows better, trust me. he knows you can defend yourself just fine but he just wants to put you in a little bubble and never let anything hurt you.

-just like ron, he will brag about you whenever he can. everyone is sitting around the great hall table, talking about how it's so cool that you defeated a troll in one fell swoop and he just wraps his arm around your shoulders, a glimmer in his eye as he proceeds to say "yeah, aren't they just so amazing?"

remus lupin:

-fears for your health and safety so much! when you come back from a trial, he's hushing you and putting you in bed, feeding you chocolate and brewing tea until you feel better!! you are bearing the weight of centuries old magic all alone. the least he can do is take care of you!

-supports your decisions throughout your entire journey as a keeper. if you truly believe that releasing ancient magic to the world and using it for more than the original keepers intended, then he understands. if you want to continue to keep it hidden, he will not question your judgement.

-this is so fluffy but i feel like you figured out how to manipulate your ancient magic to floating, bright blue scenes and pictures. around remus's time of the month (said lovingly), you'll lay in bed with him and use your wand to paint pictures of animals, lakes, waves, stars, or, in more sappy moments, your future.

sirius black:

-he thinks it is SO hot that you can take someone down without barely blinking an eye. his favorite move you do is when you lift someone into the air and slam them down repeatedly. gets blushy and turned on excited every time.

-once followed you down into the map chamber only to be very harshly yelled at by one of the keeper's portraits. he just wanted to see what it looked like and to know where you go on dangerous missions!! who can blame him, truly? definitely grumbled the whole rest of the day.

-when you two get married, he refuses to let you take his last name and instead will either take yours or say screw it and come up with one! he doesn't want his family to have the gratification of having a keeper with the black family name. he wants you to shine for who you are and in another century, he wants your name to be yours, not his.

#harry potter x reader #harry potter #hogwarts legacy #harry potter headcanon #ron weasley #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley headcanon #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy headcanon #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom headcanon #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley headcanon #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin headcanon #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black headcanon

[morallyinept]

Imbued - A Frankie Morales One Shot - International Women's Day

Dedicated to @undercoverpena whom is one of the most amazing, badass women ever. Happy International Women's Day, Jojobean! 🖤

I used a prompt from this list here. Prompt is marked bold in the story.

Summary: Frankie worships you and makes you feel like a Goddess. I mean, you are, aren't you?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)

Word Count: 2k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Established relationship/face riding/facesitting/multiple orgasms/some mild squirting/body worship/Frankie eats you out because he's the 🐱👑

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Happy International Women's Day! What better way to be celebrated than by Frankie worshipping you! 🫠

☝🏻Whilst we don't need men to make us feel powerful, I hope you know that you're amazing, independent and gorgeous, no matter what! The world is yours for the taking, Queen. Today is to celebrate and empower all the incredible women/trans women/bi women from all walks of life. No matter your ethnicity, your background, physical capabilities, your age - YOU matter. Be proud of who you are and know that every day, you are incredible, and you are strong. 💪🏻🌎🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Frankie is a sight to behold in the mornings. 

Almost ethereal as the sun kisses those beaming streaks over his tan, warm skin and muscles that envelope you in strong, cresting arms. 

Pink lips that truly steal the show, full and inviting, they curl into a dreamy, crooked smile that hints at a mischievous spark lurking just beneath the surface of a bruised man, who wakes with you in crumpled sheets with entwined limbs, clammy with sweat. 

Sleepy orbs of polished obsidian regard you in the oncoming glow of the golden dawn, flooding through thin linens and filling the room with an aureate haze. Thick, rough fingers glide against your cheek as the heat from his breath settles into your eyelashes. 

“Hueles tan bien,” (You smell so good) he grazes to you, nose running the arch of your shoulder. “Siempre te ves muy bien por las mañanas.” (You always look so good in the mornings.)

“Mmm,” you hum, relishing the hard prodding of him in between your cheeks. 

Smiling, your arch like a feline, stretching and working out your back from hours curled into comatose, rigid shapes around him.

Deft hands felt around your waist pull you against him. You feel him subtly grind; a thickness rutting against you, separated only by flimsy cotton and worn elastic.

Twisting to face him, you lick up the side of his jaw, tasting the salt in his greying scruff; the silk of it smooth on your tongue as you make wet tracks through the forest of grizzly hairs. Exploring all the prominent contours of his rugged masculinity, as his tall and broad body slowly cages over your own and starts his own explorations. 

His lips find yours, tongue delving in and groaning around the kisses he pelts you with, tempered with soft lips under a satiny scratch of his moustache. 

“Dime qué quieres.” (Tell me what you want.) He always knows what you want, delivering satisfaction in abundance. But hearing you tell him that you crave him never gets tiresome.

Frankie kisses down your body slowly, dragging his lips, lingering in places he knows will rile you. Collarbone, nipples, hips… smooches with a swipe of wet tongue appeasing as your hands follow his head, twirling curls around your index and middle.

Parting your legs, he kisses down your thigh, up the other one, eyes darting to yours. Soft, muddy irises, pupils already blown wide as he smirks at you. 

“Bésame.” (Kiss me) You say, as he stretches up to find your lips again. 

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders. “Bésame ahí,” (Kiss me there) you iterate, guiding him by the chin down to your centre. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he groans, almost pained in its tincture. 

Frankie smiles immediately as he licks up the centre of your crotch over your panties. A wicked glint in his eye as you gasp and grin down at him.

He then slides off your cotton underwear, patched damp, without hesitation.

“Sé lo que quieres.” (I know what you want.) Frankie husks with a grin that will scorch the sun. 

Already swollen in anticipation, he licks around the outer lips of your cunt, tingles travelling deep into the layers of skin as you shudder; warm breath creating cool tracks as he goes.

He nestles, aquiline nose curved perfectly to brush against you, nuzzling gently over the protruding bump of your clit as it throbs almost painfully. Ghostly mouthing, you can barely feel it as he coats you in tepid breaths; teases and prolongs the agony until you tug on the curls behind his ears sharply with a pout.

“Then give it to me,” you demand softly. And he can never resist. 

He starts his complete annihilation of you with slow precision. Skilled tongue curling out, the tip brushing over your clit faintly. Watches you keenly with those soulful eyes sitting under thick, expressive eyebrows, perfectly arched to accentuate the intensity of his gaze, as that singular stroke engulfs your body with a jolt as you moan, ragged and wanting. 

He does it again. Flick. 

And again. Flick. Flick. Flick. 

Tongue flicking faster, rumbling back and forth with speed, your thighs jerk, ripples of skin humming.

Settles into a soft rhythm of his tongue lapping and padding delicately over the tip of your clit. An explorative make out session with your pussy as he slides his tongue around the most sensitive parts, waking them up with gentle prods and flickers.

Circling around and around, looping figure eights, spelling out his name, before his lips sink further into your folds, and he suctions around that bud, sucking on it with a deep pull. 

He works you up; your fingers gnarling in his hair, fisting in the sheets, pulling around your nipples as the frenzy begins to unfurl from a deep slumber.

Frankie licks down, tongue trailing the length of your slit, finding the indent of your hole that’s pooling for him. Scoops up the clear, dripping honey with the curve of his tongue and deposits it around the hilt of your clit as he sucks on it again. 

Orchestrating the delicate interplay of pleasure and longing. With each passing moment, the music swells, growing in intensity and depth, like the rising tide of an ocean before a storm.

He feels you raking in his hair; dark and tousled from sleep, framing his face in a halo of unruly waves that are only tamed into submission by his cap. Fingers exploring and gripping tighter around the back of his skull, wanting more, craving the pleasure he’s conducting within your core.

You’ll crash all over him. 

“I want you to come, come for me, hermosa. Déjame probarte a ti.” (Let me taste you.)

His serpentine tongue squelches through your lips quicker, drenched with his saliva, foaming with your bubbly secretions. Sticky chin, silvery hairs darker with the wet coating around his lips and cheeks, as he buries his face fully into the shrine of your cunt. 

He’s done teasing, he needs you to come. Needs to taste you flooding his mouth. 

“Oh fuck, oh my god, yes baby…” you drone, you babble, you speak in tongues. Your voice rasps as you tense and shudder.

With each passing moment, with each practised flick of his tongue, you feel yourself drawing deeper into that whirlpool of pleasure, your senses heightening to a fever pitch. Feeling the tension coiling within you, a tightened spring ready to snap at the slightest touch, cinching and pulsing.

A white noise getting louder in your ears. 

Sticky, inflamed lips rolling back, Frankie spreads you open with his blunt, stubbed thumbs; exalting in the exquisite taste of your most intimate flesh beneath his nose.

He hums in appraisal, eyes sinking back into his sockets as he closes them in rapture at his morning feast spread before him. Tonguing your hole, contracting around nothing, desiring to be filled with him, but denial is the path to imminent release.

“Damn, you look so amazing right now,” he breathes with a husk. “Eres tan malditamente hermosa.” (You’re so damn beautiful.)

You tug at his hair more, sleep-billowed curls tightly wound around your fingers as you grind against his face chasing your oncoming release. Thighs threaten to suffocate him as he puffs out of his nose and looks up at you with molten browns. 

Your back arches, a perfect curve off the mattress as you dive head first into the sun, burning up as you explode. 

He’s all speed and eagerness as he has you positioned above him, quicker than you can comprehend, and begs you to sit on his face. 

Pulling on his hair you smother him and he groans like a dying man; fingers pressing bruises into your ass as he rocks you onto his awaiting mouth. You flex and grind, moving against him as you feel it build all over again. 

“F-Frankie!” You judder, your voice a lump in your throat you can’t swallow as you gasp for breath around it. 

He rolls out his tongue; a thick, wet muscle for you to fuck and use. You rock against it, feeling it slide through your folds as you scrape back his hair, fists stuffed into the pillow. 

You take from him, seek your own pleasure and finish without his cock, without his fingers. Just worshipping you with his tongue. A simple man, flat on his broad back, his queen throning on his face. 

He imbues you with strength, the confidence to discard shame and revel in your sensuality as he watches you arch and let your hips do all the work. He encourages it, feeds it to you impassioned with fascination, desire and a keen sense of empowering your womanhood to bloom and blossom. 

This is his happy place, an exquisite drowning in you that he conveys through sleepy, subdued eyes and satisfied, wanting groans that haunt your blood.

He could die like this, your cunt leaking into his mouth as you fuck it, unabashed and free.

Strong, deft hands pull you forward, down fully onto his face until he can no longer breathe. Snuffles of misty breath fan against your mound, as he lets his tongue swim inside you, lips suctioned around you. 

He knows that even without him, you're solid granite. A force to be reckoned with. Impenetrable steel holding yourself up with the power you command from within. He’s only proud that you allow him to bask in your light, your love. The divine femininity that you let him drink mouthfuls from.

Frankie knows you don’t need his love, you choose to have it and that’s what makes him love and worship you even more. 

Rocking your hips back and forth faster, your clit brushing against his nose, the hairs on his face are felt everywhere with a pleasant scratch and tingle. 

You feel his digits pulling on your nipples, rolling them between his finger and thumb as you start to let go again. Start to feel the vestiges of your orgasm seep out of the lush garden of your ribs. 

You feel it building, crushing against your abdomen as you let go. As you give him what he covets from you. 

You give him respite, the chance to breathe as you lift yourself up for a few seconds before he pulls you back down on him with a growl, greedy for more.

He doesn’t need to breathe - he just needs you coming all over his face. 

You squirm, convulsing as you come; his arms pin you onto his face not letting you escape.

“Frankie! Fuck!” You wail as your body shakes itself of its own volition. 

You lean back, supporting your hands on his chest as you ride his face through it. The head of his cock is poking out the top of his waistband, flush and leaking onto his stomach as you reach for it. He gently taps your hand away. 

His face is soaked, the pillow drenched as beads of your slick gush down his cheeks and into his hairline and ears.

Drowning in you, pulled under that wave, succumbing. 

No, this is about your pleasure only. Your undoing.

You, you, you…

His head shakes back and forth with abandon as you grunt and shatter above him - Frankie grunts hungrily. Giant hands splay you open so he can get to every part, drink you all down. 

He whines and groans as your hand slides back down his stomach, grabbing handfuls of his pudgy hips and waist with greed.

Your fingers delve into a wet, sticky puddle of his own release spurted over his soft paunch. 

Your body, like wibbly jelly, collapses onto your back into the creases of the damp sheets, the sun in your eyes like a gold strobe. 

You smirk as the waves roll off of you, bite your lip at how a man as strong as he is, is reduced to nothing but a wet, softening mess beneath you, ejaculating on his stomach at the mere taste of you.

Desperate for you, whining, keening and clawing for more of you against his mouth. 

“Más?” (More?) Frankie grins into your face as you pant, his fingers slipping into your greased folds and teasing at your sensitive clit. 

He sucks on a nipple, tonguing it stiff as you groan, watching as he looks up at you with those beguiling eyes. Melted chocolate chips that you long to taste, cloying and sweet.

“Siempre más,” (Always more) you chime, as he trails that skilled tongue back down your body, pulls your thighs over his shoulders and takes you apart with his mouth, over and over again.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story. Happy International Women's Day! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #international women's day #jett's writing

[erodasfishtacos]

The Body Factory (sexclubowner!h)

+

Hellloooo!

It’s been a long while since I posted here. I am still going strong on patreon with 4-5 one shots a month with anywhere from 8 to 14k words usually (sometimes more) + blurbs. I decided to released one of my new tropes, just part one on here and if it sounds good maybe consider joining for $3USD a month to read more parts of this and many others coming up!!!

prompt: yn doesn’t feel fufilled in her relationship and so her fiancé, Arthur, comes up with an idea to help but it doesnt turn out as either of them expected aka sex club owner!h

word count: 8k

warnings: under-negotiation, power play, mean h, choking, safeword, cheating but not really yet

🛑 there is a scene that could potentially be triggering so i am going to put a brief summary at the end of the fic if you’d like to check whether it’s a appropriate read for yourself. 🛑

Author’s Note: I have had this idea on my mind for months and have been so extremely excited to share it with you. It has really really been inspiring to me as I don’t have a trope like this. I hope you enjoy.

++

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was a safe choice.

It’s why when YN’s father introduced them, it didn’t really seem like an option to turn down the invitation to go out to dinner at the swankiest restaurant in town.

The date had been so incredibly unexciting that YN had no doubt that he would not ask for a second one.

They had nothing in common, the space was often filled with an awkward silence, and averted gazes to the walls or out the window next to their seating.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was polite, he held the door and paid for the bill before walking her to her car with the chaste kiss to her cheek.

It absolutely boggled her mind when her father informed her the next day that Arthur had told her that he had an amazing time and was going to ask her for a second date in the next upcoming days.

YN hated the mere idea of disappointing her parents, she had already let them down enough with her career choice not to join the family business

:readmore:

instead becoming neonatal nurse, despite that being a massive accomplishment, it wasn’t praised because she didn’t go to be a lawyer like both her mother and father.

It felt like most of the time she was on thin ice with her parents because of her education and career choice, even down to the car she drove (they thought it was too sporty and not practical enough) which left her in a precarious position.

She relied on them for help with her student loans.

YN was still trying to get her feet on the ground with her apartment landlord just bumping up her rent by nearly five-hundred pounds, her car note, among all the other things that came with being an adult that she wasn’t financially capable of managing yet.

Her parents agreed to pay for her school loans.

However, it came with silet threat of staying in their good gracious or they would cut her off at any moment, they had threatened it enough when she got into nursing school and informed them that she would be attending, she must have heard them threaten her inheritance half a million times.

Arthur was her ticket back into her parent’s limelight.

He was fresh out of law school but he was incredibly intelligent, good at what he did, and had multiple firms vying for him to join their legal council but he had chosen YN’s family’s business because of their well-known reputation.

Arthur came from old money, which had given him an extremely privileged life and a headstart into success as soon as he was born.

He was the great-grandson of an oil tycoon whom he had reaped the benefits ever since.

The second date happened, then the third, then the fourth.

No spark.

No chemistry.

Atleast on YN’s end because Arthur seemed happy as a clam in their relationship, he praised YN to anyone who would listen, and was consistently bragging about their life to anyone that would listen to him.

He was nice to her.

He remembered important dates, brought her flowers to work, and had dinner made when she walked in the door on nights that she worked late shifts and he got home before her.

Time passes and they celebrate their first year anniversary, then their second, then their third.

On the fourth was when he got down on one knee and professed his love to her in front of all their family and friends on Christmas Day at an extravagant party at his parent’s estate.

The diamond ring that he slid onto her finger was ridiculous, too big to not just be flaunting wealth, and it wasn’t a style that she liked but she lied and told him that she loved it.

There was an emptiness in her chest when he proposed, she was teary-eyed but she couldn’t determine whether it was from happiness or dread that she was going to spend the rest of her life with the man in front of her.

It wasn’t his fault in the slightest.

Arthur was just Arthur.

He lacked depth, there was nothing behind his twinkling brown eyes beside law, money, and judgement.

Arthur treated her nicely consistently, they barely ever fought, and he never raised his voice at her.

When he got frustrated, he just got an exasperated tone and took time to himself in his office until he had calmed down enough to talk.

But that was once in a blue moon.

They’ve never had a blow-out because he was so agreeable and accommodating.

That’s exactly what was missing from their relationship.

YN didn’t crave toxicity, not one bit, she wanted a healthy relationship with positive communication, understanding, and all the things that make that up.

YN did crave excitement, humor, sexual tension, and the type of relationship that kept her on her toes, got her adrenaline pumping and making her stomach turn in nervous knots because she didn’t always know what to expect out of her partner.

Arthur was as predictable as a clock, had no spontaneity up his sleeve, and his sense of humor was nonexistent.

YN had a partner that she’d been with in college named Klein.

He wasn’t the love of her life, not by a long shot, but he had been wild, on the edge of insane half-of-the-time, and always kept their relationship exciting.

He would show up at her part-time cafe job, with a fake excuse to her boss about a death in his family, and he needed her support.

When YN would walk out to his motorcycle with him, concerned about his grandmother’s death, he would only smile at her, inform her that his grandmother has been dead for fifteen years, and that he was going to take her on a hike to see a waterfall she’d mentioned wanting to see once in passing.

But then there was their sex life, it was phenomenal and unlike the few half-hapzard experience she had before him.

He was confident, dominant, and introduced her to things that she used to not even have the nerve to say out loud let alone do.

It was him who introduced her to BDSM and they explored it for nearly two and a half years of their relationship.

YN did research while they were together and after the fact, she had even attended a few virtual training sessions to learn about correct techniques, safety precautions, and learning the dynamic of power play which engrossed her to no end.

However, when Klein requested they open their relationship, that had been such an unexpected turn-off that she no longer felt the connection that was there before.

The end of the relationship was amicable, they were still friends on social media and liked each others posts but it was at that point they realized they wanted different things and they couldn’t provide that to one another.

Where Klein wanted flexibility, uncertainty, and fluidity.

YN wanted regimen, structured, and a deep sense of connection with one person.

She did not want multiple doms nor did she want her dom to have multiple submissives.

She wanted all the attention on her, her dom would be absolutely captivated by her and be so connected to her physically, mentally, spiritually that they only want her.

Her ideal dom would never mention sharing.

Which isn’t to shame it because it was more common than not to have an open relationship, partner sharing, and swapping.

YN loved the idea of becoming comfortable with someone enough that she could be a brat which she wasn’t an easy submissive she had come to learn.

Her dominant had to work for her submission, sometimes she crumbled quickly and other times it took multiple punishments until the smirk was wiped from her face and replaced with tears on her puffy cheeks from the pinpricks of pain.

After Klein, she had gone on a few dates, some she even hooked up with but she never clicked enough with them to talk about anything like that.

And so she wrapped it up into a nice, neat box and tucked it into the back of her mind because she would find the right partner who would be compatible sexually with her.

Right?

Arthur and her had no sexual chemistry.

Arthur was just as polite in the bedroom as he was outside of it, he never put her in a unique position, and preferred to rotate between the missionary and doggy style.

He would occasionally go down on her but he didn’t know what he was doing so it didn’t feel like much of anything as most of the time he couldn’t even locate her clit.

Which meant fingering was out of the question because he didn’t even know the g-spot existed.

Anytime she managed to orgasm, it was from her own hand, getting herself off because she was past the point of asking him to try to do it.

Arthur did not have a high sex drive and YN felt guilty for being thankful for it.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was trying, and it was so unsatisfying that YN felt like her skin itched sometimes because she hadn’t realized until Arthur how much she craved sexual intimacy with her significant other.

Again, Arthur initiated once a week, sometimes twice or sometimes not for a few weeks when his work is really busy.

YN was six years into a relationship of unfilled desire, disconnect, and a lack of satisfaction which she would have never seen for herself at only being twenty-nine years old.

The wedding was set for fourteen months away, at a vineyard on the coast of Italy.

It was decided by everyone but her as with most things she felt like nowadays.

++

YN had been scrolling through a blog post when something caught her eye.

It was written by a female who had a similar lack of connection with her partner in the bedroom but wanted more.

The writer had described that as soon as she asked if they could experiment with BDSM that their relationship had completely shifted, they were more in love than ever, and their sex life was more amazing than it had been in nearly a decade.

It was the motivation that YN needed to have the conversation with Arthur, with the hope that it would ignite a flame that had yet to be struck between the two of them.

YN loved Arthur, she wanted to be in love with him but she couldn’t honestly say she was at this point in their relationship.

Arthur had been surprised by the conversation, over dinner one night, if the way he sputtered red wine onto his crisp white button-up was an indicator.

His eyes had gone wide in a look of almost horror and he cleared his throat a handful of times while they discussed it in more detail.

“I just feel like it would be something fun to try out,” YN tries to keep it casual, to not let on to how much she desired this or knew that she would already love it.

“Erm, yeah. I would be open to it,” Arthur had agreed sheepishly, putting down his fork and knife.

“No, I do not want you to feel pressured at all! I just -” YN begins to try to soothe because she had not meant to get such a reaction of concern more than lust out of her fiance.

He chuckles kindly, smiling at her as he reaches across the table to hold her hand, “We can try it, if that’s what you want. I am open to whatever will make you happy, sweetie pie.”

Sweetie pie….

YN tried not to blatantly cringe every time he called her that.

++

It did not work out.

They did not even get a few minutes into foreplay when Arthur backed out, saying that he just didn’t feel like he knew what to do, and that he’d prefer if they just did their normal thing.

YN agreed, trying to swallow the disappointed lump in her throat because she didn’t want to guilt him in to trying anything he wasn’t into.

They didn’t discuss it again after that for a long while.

++

Arthur wasn’t blind to the shift after that night.

He now knew that he was not satisfying a need that YN desired and she had just seemed more subdued since he had called it off but was trying to hide it because he knew that she wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about not wanting it.

It had been on his mind though.

++

“A sex club?” YN’s eyes nearly buldge from her sockets, puting down her glass of water and ignoring the splashes it leaves on her hand because what had Arthur just recommended they try?

“Yes. A BDSM club or a kink club they call it. Maybe if I see other people doing it or we get into the right atmosphere, it will work better. At least off the start?” Arthur seems just as nervous as her, he hadn’t touched his food.

“And…I just…” YN was at a loss for words because this is just the most unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe I can learn from others. Really get good at it for you, you know?” He suggests, his eyes looking anywhere but at hers.

“Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

++

The Body Factory was the club that Arthur had decided after doing his research.

He needed somewhere secretive, exclusive, and with iron-clad NDA’s so that no one could use this against him in his profession which was fair enough.

That’s where The Body Factor came into play.

There were guidelines to a membership:

You must make over a hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds a year.

You were sign and resign an NDA every three months.

A deposit of ten thousand pounds, it will not be refunded if any rules or regulations are broken.

You will send in health screenings every two months, proof of birth control (if female), and a background check.

You may not belong to any other clubs during the time of your membership at The Body Factory.

YN was quite shocked that Arthur had dished out that amount of money on the deposit for something that they weren’t sure that they were going to like nor want to continue to visit even though the membership spans for a year at a time.

“If we go, hate it, and decide to never go back, just consider it a really expensive date night,” Arthur had assured her with a chuckle, she knew of his wealth but even this seemed a bit like frivolous spending but little did she know it was just his desperation to make her happy.

++

The club was in the packing district of all places, tucked back in between massive factories, some that were still open and operating, others that had been abandoned for years now.

It was actually in an old clothing factory that had been renovated to resemble any other high-end club, from the inside there would be no way that anyone could even tell except for the incredibly high ceilings at some points.

However, the location in the city and of building choice gave a lot of privacy of entering and exiting, it wasn’t advertised nor did it have any sign indicating of their presence.

It was a maze of alleyways until the entrance appeared, a dingy door that was rusted and gave no indication of what was inside, someone walking past would have never looked twice or thought anything of the building nor the entrance.

Everything was matte black, dark, and dimmed.

There were occasional deep emerald green accents but everything was sleek, modern, and simple but in the most elegant way as they walked in.

YN’s heart was in her throat.

Where people going to be fucking right when they walk in?

Or people being led around on leashes right off the bat?

Arthur may pass out.

However, there’s a front desk, almost like at an office with a woman dressed in a incredibly fitted sleek black dress with smooth, curled hair, and makeup like it was done by a professional, she had to be a model because she was gorgeous as she smiled widely and checked them in.

They had to show their licenses, hand over physical copies of their screenings, NDA’s even though they had to sign them virtually too.

There were two security guards in black suits with earpieces standing by large, heavy dark oak doors with their hands crossed in front of them.

This seemed like a movie or just not real with how sophisticated this whole process was.

“Enjoy,” Penelope, the receptionist had chirped with the whitest, most perfect smile she’d ever seen.

Arthur seemed a bit awestruck for a moment and YN couldn’t even fault him for it.

The two guards move aside to open the doors, nodding for them to go in before closing them firmly behind them.

YN finds herself reaching for Arthur’s hand, nervous and shaky with new experience anxiety and adrenaline that she was finally getting back into what she wanted even more so.

There were people mingling, sipping on drinks, and all fully clothed.

It wasn’t until Arthur informed her, “Play starts at ten, the first hour is to introduce, mingle, meet.”

Ah, that makes sense.

It almost builds the tension, YN feels like she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.

They walk over to the bar, another beautiful women greets them right away, laying a napkin down in front of both of them, “Newbies?”

“Yes,” Arthur nods, pointing to himself first, “I’m Arthur, this is YN, my fiance.”

The bartender quirks an eyebrow as she not-so-subtly scans them, “Nice to meet you two. I’m Raven. I bartend Friday through Sunday here. What are you drinking?”

“A moscow mule,” YN asks, maybe some alcohol will loosen her nerves.

“It’s a dry club, babe,” Raven smiles patiently as her long fingernails click against the smooth surface.

“Oh,” YN replies in surprise, looking behind her at the shelves only to see syrups for flavoring but no actual liquor bottles or draft taps to be seen, “A sprite?”

“Water, please,” Arthur adds as he rubs YN’s thigh, squeezing it in reassurance, “I forgot to tell you. No alcohol here. Everybody needs to be sober when playing.”

“That makes sense,” YN hums in agreement, never having actually thought about it much, but it could definitely get cloudy on consent when alcohol was being consumed in regards to playing which was a dangerous and unsafe mixture.

They sit, observed for a few minutes before a few people begin to flock towards them, greeting them and asking surface level questions until there’s a deep, almost eerie chime that echoes for a long moment through the club over the soft jazz.

It was signifying that the clock had struck ten.

Everyone quickly wraps up their conversations before moving to different areas of the rooms, some disappearing down hallways.

The atmosphere had changed significantly in a very quick spurt of time as people started undressing, kissing, moving as if they’d just gotten permission.

There was a couple of the couch across the room that Athur and YN were observing from their barstools.

The two started out slow, sensual, like any normal couple behind close doors but when the woman knots her hair into her partner’s hair and demands his mouth move lower, he obliges and Arthur gasps softly at the roughness displayed.

YN’s been aroused for the last five minutes of watching them but doesn’t make an effort to act on it, not yet atleast, and once the couple move so that the man is laying on the couch, the woman kneeling over his face, it changes her vantage point but it catches on something else.

In the corner, further back into the room, there was a man sitting in the corner where there was barely any lighting, dim and his goal was to obviously stay in the background.

No one was approaching him nor was he interacting with anyone else.

YN knew there was a no phone policy but this man was sat, scrolling boredly through his phone and only occasionally glancing up to observe the people in action around him before eyes dart back down like it wasn’t entertaining at all.

He wasn’t aroused, at least from what YN could see, and he was in a tight, well-fitted suit but his dress shirt was barely buttoned, open enough to show the definition of his pectoral muscles, the sharpness of his collarbones, and a variety of darkly inked tattoos.

He was fucking beautiful.

YN realizes she oogling him but can get away with it because it appears to Arthur that she’s still watching the couple like he is.

However, when the man looks up after a few moments once again, his eyes are instantly locked on YN.

She can’t tell what color they are from here but she knows they’re light, twinkling under the barely there light of a sconce on the wall and it’s smouldering as he doesn’t blink nor waver with embarrassment of being caught staring at her.

YN quickly diverted her eyes back to the couple, her heart was pounding, and a sense of thrill shot up her spine even though it was inappropriate.

She wasn’t here for new partners.

She was here to learn and explore with her own.

YN tries to play it casual when Raven refills the drink she nervously chugged, “Why does that guy have his phone?”

Raven’s eyes darted to the man before grinning, “That’s Harry. He’s the owner, my boss. He supervises the free play.”

“Free play?”

“Out in the common area, it’s considered free play. If you claim a room, you are in private play with whatever partners you bring back there. Harry just makes sure everything stays safe and consensual out here. He gets bored though and plays Candy Crush on his phone.”

YN cracks her own smile at that, trying to imagine the man trying to get rid of sugary sweets and getting frustrated when he loses a round.

“Does he not play?” Arthur asks curiously, now his attention has changed to Harry as well.

“Not often,” Raven informs them, leaning her elbow on the counter, “I can’t remember the last time he did. I’d say at least seven years ago, at least in the free play but he doesn’t reserve rooms or anything. He made it clear that he doesn’t find at least any of the current members interesting enough to engage with.”

“That’s interesting, considering he must have an interest in it, if this is his club,” Arthur replies to Raven before turning back to the scene of the couple, another member had joined the couple and was currently giving the male some startling rough looking bruised kisses and bites to his stomach and thighs.

Arthur was getting aroused by the look and feel of it, he reached over and brazenly took her hand, and led her to his groin where he was hard in his trousers, encouraging her to palm over him which she did as she tried to get into it.

This…This atmosphere, these people, they excited her.

Arthur still did not.

They manage to get to a couch, Arthur appears to be getting so turned on that foreplay isn’t in his realm of ideas because he’s hiking up YN’s dress around her hips and positioning her on top of him which is a new position (in all six years they’ve never done cowgirl) but still, her arousal is barely boiling above surface level.

YN licks her palm, reaching down to help moisten herself because Arthur was not doing anything to spark her to get wet.

It was actually making her more distressed that despite the scenario, she still didn’t feel the connection to her fiancé.

When she slides down, it’s fine, he was an average size so even without much lubrication, it didn’t feel like a stretch or burn when she started to move her hips but it wasn’t as pleasant as if she was sopping, dripping down her thighs.

Arthur glances to the side at one point, noticing that the male from the throuple was now pounding into the original partner with his had tight around her throat, pushing her further into the couch without mercy as she tried to whine through stutter breaths.

YN felt like she was being watched the entire time, which of course she was being watched by other members but it felt different, when she blinks around and notices that Harry has his gaze honed in on her with a twisted scowl of almost disapproval, it confuses her.

However, she’s brought back into the moment when Arthur pants out, “Can- I want to try that.”

When YN follows his gaze, he’s referring to the choking, and yeah, maybe that will light that match.

“Okay, yeah,” YN agrees as she brushes her hair off of her shoulders, wishing he would have taken this dress off of her instead of shoving it upwards where it felt confining.

Arthur smiles at her, leaning up to give her a chaste kiss which didn’t match their situation whatsoever that they were in at the moment.

YN was feeling anxious about the judgment other members might put onto them but not because she cared that people watched but because she knew Arthur and her were nowhere nearly as fluid, practiced, or elegant as the other members whom seemed to just melt into one another easily.

Arthur had never tried it before but his hand came up to her throat, he’s getting close to his own release which means that he’s not as focused, eyes getting a glazed over appearance.

YN soon realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing as he begins to cut off her airway by cupping her throat in the center instead of at the sides.

It hurts, she can’t breathe but not the way that feels tingly, excited, it feels like he could quite possibly suffocate her because of his carelessness.

They had talked about proper methods and he clearly hadn’t retained that information.

A few black dots begin to dance across her line of vision and her body starts to trigger a flight or fight response which she wants to use her safe word but she can’t speak.

YN takes to dig her nails into his hand but he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not out of lust.

A true fear begins to take hold that something horrible will happen to her in less than a minute.

He’s truly going to injure her.

YN is in a full-fledged panic induced state.

Then suddenly, without warning, a strong arm is being wrapped around her middle and a big, ring-clad hand grips Arthur where it was around her neck so hard he yelps in pain and releases his grip.

The person is physically lifting YN off of Arthur’s lap, trying to steady her on her feet but they feel like jello and she feels light-headed, the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” The person’s voice is deep, raspy, and incredibly pissed off, “What the fuck is your problem?”

YN can’t even bring herself to look at Arthur right now, her full support into Harry’s side as she notices the two securities guards walking in.

“C’mon, let me sit you down. You’re okay but I want to check you out, alright? Yeah, c’mon, pet,” He encourages in a much softer tone, gentle and trying to comfort me as she struggles to catch her breath.

It takes a long second to realize that she’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and fuck, she is so embarassed as every other member had stopped playing.

“We’re done for the night. We’ll re-open tomorrow at the normal hours of operation,” Harry announces to the room at large before looking to Raven, “Go close down the private rooms.”

Raven nods, no longer as smiley and bubbling but an expression of concern as she watches what’s going on with YN.

“Hey, darling. Can you tilt your head up?” Harry asks quietly once he sits her down in the same corner that he had been in, away from the group.

YN whines because her neck is aching, she doesn’t want to do anything as the drop in adrenaline has made her more exhausted than she’s felt in a long time.

“I know, I know,” Harry simpers in an unpredictably cooing tone, he taps his thumb on her chin to signal her to tilt it up and she obliges.

Harry prods gently at her neck, focusing on the center where the pressure has been, “Any sharp pains? Anything feel off or wrong like you need to go to the hospital?”

YN shakes her head, a fresh round of tears.

She knew that she wasn’t injured or seriously hurt.

YN felt more traumatized mentally than anything else.

“I need words, want to hear your pretty voice,” Harry orders in a honey sweet tone, eyes hyper-focused on her like they were in the beginning of the night.

His eyes were green.

Close to the accent color of the club.

“I’m okay,” YN manages to speak out, throat dry and scratchy.

Raven appears with a glass of water to hand to Harry before giving them their space again.

YN is about to reach for the glass but Harry is already moving it towards her lips for her, “Drink f’me.”

It’s strangely intimate as he tilts the glass, eyes watching her carefully and a sense of guilt sets in that she likes that Harry is tending to her, giving her his full attention.

“Is this a common occurrence? Between you two?”Harry doesn’t sound as kind anymore, his jaw muscle twitches slightly.

“Um, no. We came here to explore. I’m very much into this world and he isn’t. He’s told me he’s done his research in his free time but -“

“You’re telling me that you’ve never negotiated nor tried something like this and he full fledge tries choking?” Harry interrupts, outraged from where he stands up from squatting in front of her, “Did you ask or plan for that?”

YN shakes her head, a bit embarrassed that she was coming off as an amateur to someone…she felt an attraction to, felt intimidated by, and Arthur had ruined their experience here.

“No. We tried spanking a few times but he backed out. We were just supposed to come here to watch others so he could visual what all this looked like before putting it into action-“

Harry doesn’t let her finish as he storms away from her, his glare set right on Arthur who was sheepishly sitting back at the bar and nursing a drink as Raven talked to him.

YN’s heart rate starts to rise again when Arthur tenses, clearly being chewed out by Harry before her fiancé gets off his barstool and follows the club owners lead down the hallway.

YN rushes to the bar, Raven is already pouring her another sprite, “Calm down. He’s not going to hurt him or anything. They just need to have a discussion on whether or not Harry will revoke his membership.”

It feels ruined and it never even started.

All she can think about is that despite for a short amount of time she was getting what she asked from Arthur, there was still no god damn spark.

After a good half hour, the bar phone rings and Raven answers, murmuring a few words back into the receiver before having up.

“I’m going to take you back to his office now.”

++

Harry’s office was just as luxe, elegant as the rest of the club.

It was tense as soon as she stepped in the room and Raven left, closing the door behind her.

“I’ve decided not to revoke your joint membership after discussion with Arthur. However, there are contingencies if you would like to continue coming here. Are you willing to hear them? Arthur has already agreed to the terms.”

YN nods slowly, voice soft, “Yes.”

Harry keeps his face on her as he speaks, “I do not tolerate what happened here tonight in my club. Arthur has clearly proven that he isn’t educated enough to be able to have free access to the club and free play.”

“If you want to continue membership, Arthur will need to reserve a private room and lessons will be held until he fully grasps the concepts, displays understanding, and can play safely without supervision.”

“Who…Do you have instructors?” YN doesn’t think she wants another man involved in their sex life even in an educational aspect.

“Yes but I will be teaching the lessons,” Harry informs her, calm as ever, “I bring this up because I would need to be hands on, to demonstrate and display certain practice, power play dynamics but that is a lot to ask as I do not know your limits on sharing.”

YN’s speaking before she even realizes it, “Yes. We can do that.”

Harry’s lip quirks slightly before it disappears but it oddly enough seems like a reward.

“We can schedule. I will send the paperwork. I already have your questionnaires about hard limits, likes, dislikes, and willing to try. I want to make this clear, this will be purely educational and there will be no dynamic developing between me and you two.”

YN nods dumbly, at a loss for words because the mere thought of Harry domming her was a lick of a flame that she’d been missing so much.

“I will dom you with instructions interwoven for Arthur. We will try to keep everything minimal as I cannot stress enough that this is not anything but informative on my end to help improve your sex life as a couple.”

++

Three longs weeks pass before their first ‘lesson’.

Arthur voiced excitement about the instruction, never brought up the choking incident again, and never initiated any type of sex during this time either.

Everything was swept under the rug as usual in their relationship.

YN would never admit the fact that she had gotten herself off to the mere idea of Harry domming her because something about him had triggered something carnal, something near feral in her.

It’s more than she had even felt with Klein.

She knew it wouldn’t last forever but she was going to enjoy this to the best of her abilities.

++

YN only had excited nerves going into the night.

Harry had inquired more in the break of time about YN’s experience and was extremely pleased to realize that she wasn’t as much of a novice as he assumed.

Though she hadn’t experienced many partners or relationships within the community, her knowledge was expansive and deep enough to impress him.

Harry had texted her back with a simple message that had her core tingling enough that she had to rub her thighs together.

YN: Thank you for continuously checking in on my comfort and experience regarding these situations. I have many more concerns for Arthur as we’ve already discussed. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!

Harry Styles: I do not plan to go easy on you. Unless you specifically want soft play for these experiences. I can be a softer dominant but my main modality is firm, mean, regimented with softer aftercare.

YN: You don’t scare me. ;)

She was already being bratty with him.

It sent a wave of good nerves through her as she waited for a reply to be sent to her inbox.

Harry Styles: It’s interesting that you’ve already started to decide to be bad for me when you don’t even know what I’m capable of, darling.

YN : I’m shaking.

YN: Terrified.

Harry Styles: I wish I could wrap my fingers around your throat right now. Show your fiancé the proper way to choke a god damn brat.

YN could feel herself pooling with arousal.

It felt a bit wrong but she reasoned enough with herself that it was all for the greater good of her relationship with Arthur but deep down she knew that was bullshit.

YN: You’re probably not much better.

Harry Styles: Quite honestly, haven’t worked with such a fucking disobedient bitch in a long time. I cannot wait to break you. A kitten who thinks they’re a big bad tiger.

YN: Fuck you.

Harry Styles: Kitty’s got claws.

Harry Styles: For now…

It felt bordering on inappropriate but YN reasoned again that Harry had made it clear that there isn’t anything happening, it is a strictly professional as a type of situation like this can be.

++

Saturday has come and YN wakes up to a text.

Harry Styles: Better wear something cute enough that I find you interesting enough to play with. Even if it’s just to teach.

YN rereads the message quite a few times and why is he so good at getting under her skin and she doesn’t even know him yet but it’s like he knows exactly how to wind her up.

YN: Black dress with tights.

Harry Styles: It’s good to know that you’re just another basic bitch.

YN: What will you be wearing then?

Harry Styles: That’s none of your fucking business. I call the shots, kitty. Not you.

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Good to know. Five spanks for the five emojis. Would you like to keep going?

She can’t even help herself

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Noted.

YN wants to reply, knowing he’s probably waiting but a tiny sliver of guilt starts to creep in when she thinks about Arthur because though she’s trying to convince herself this is perfectly fine.

It’s not.

Not with the emotions it makes her feel.

She hasn’t felt them in so long.

It scares her.

“Sweetie pie, are you having second thoughts? Should be getting ready,” Arthur steps out of the walk-in closet, adjusting the sleeve of his button up.

“No!” YN replies much too quickly, her tone high pitch, “Um, I lost track of time. I’ll get ready now.”

“Okay, I’m excited for this new experience with you,” He smiles sweetly, stepping over to press a kiss to her forehead.

It’s affectionate, loving, and she’s still thinking of other things than her fiancé.

++

YN decides on a black wide leg trouser with a corseted bodysuit that gave her tits the perfect push-up, she’s spray a very thin most of body glitter on her chest, she knew it would sparkle in the dim lighting.

She considered wearing the dress and tights to spite him but whatever, she’d be less easy access for him.

++

Arthur held her hand tightly as they entered The Body Factory.

YN was already searching for Harry, barely waving to Raven as Arthur leads them over but she doesn’t want a drink, she wants to play.

However her fiancé guide her to a stool, ordering for both of them as Raven has a look of curiosity as she slides them in front of him.

“Does he come out and get us?” Arthur asks Raven, looking around he doesn’t see him either.

Raven bites her lip, shaking her head with a chuckle, “No, I take you to your reserved room when ten hits.”

“What is it?” YN asks, unable to read what is going on the bartender's mind.

This conversation didn’t seem particularly funny.

“Nothing really. Harry just hasn’t offered private lessons for at least eight or nine years. Normally when couples have an incident like you did, Harry revoked their memberships without a second thought,” Raven informs them as she picks at a spot on the smooth surface of the bar absentmindedly.

“Why us?” YN wonders out loud, why after all that time did he make an exception.

“I wish I knew,” The bartender shrugs neutrally.

++

The deep chime rings out about forty-five minutes later.

YN cannot decipher whether she wants to throw up or jump up and down with excitement.

Especially when Raven guides them down a long hallway, then into another corridor until they reach a door with a sign that warns, “No members past this point. Private access only.”

“Um-“ Arthur goes to point out the sign, he was a rule follower to his core.

“It’s Harry’s private playroom that members can’t use but again, this is special circumstances,” Raven’s voice is hushed as she leads them into a surprisingly minimal room.

There were cabinets built sleekly into the walls where all toys and accessories must be held, a matte black.

Everything matched but there was a bigger prominence of the green accents that were more subtle in the main areas.

The play bench hardware matches everything else but the cushion is a luxe emerald.

The bed was…unlike anything she had ever seen.

It was massive but fit well in the spacious room.

High posts on all four corners with subtle hooks to place restraints in.

The mattress looked fluffy and giving, it looked as if the sheets were a black silk but the duvet was a very muted pattern of black and green diamonds.

YN was in love with space.

It was so much more than she was expecting.

“Holy shit,” Arthur gapes at the elegance, clearly he had been expecting something different too.

“Okay, when Harry comes in, he will already be in the dom headspace and so he wants me to give you reminders. Harry will respect your hard limits as he’s reviewed them before the session. You have received a list of his so please do the same.”

“Just as you can safeword out at any time without consequences, Harry can as well. He will use the same ‘red’ if need be and will check your colors throughout to ensure safe play.”

“For this first lesson, Arthur you will sit and observe. Harry will display a safe, typical scene of play to understand what that looks like with whatever kind of submissive YN is. You may also use your safeword at any time to stop the play.”

YN swallows because would he allow that?

Surprisingly, Arthur’s face is still clear and happy as he starts to walk over to an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and smiles at YN, “Can’t wait.”

YN raises a shocked eyebrow at his willingness but nods at Raven to show she understands.

++

They’re silent as they wait for Harry.

She wasn’t given instruction and because she was a bit nervous, she perched herself on Arthur’s lap as he rubbed her thigh and kissed her shoulder blades occasionally.

Then there’s a shuffle outside the door, the door knob twisting and the door opening.

Harry looked ethereal.

He wasn’t wearing a tailored suit like before but leather boots with a bit of a heel, form-fitting jeans that make his lean quads look biteable, and a plain black shirt.

His arms had even more beautiful ink than YN realized.

After Harry closes the door, his eyes lock on hers, not even acknowledging her fiancé’s presence.

“Stand up,” Harry orders loudly, a bit startling.

YN obeys instantly, her heart was pounding in her eardrums like waves of the choppy ocean.

A cruel smirk tilts on his lips when he scans her up and down.

“Did I strike a nerve, pet? This isn’t a black dress and tights. Are you already starting off so insecure? And you think you can handle me. What a cute, pathetic little kitten,” His voice is venomous, steady, and she’s clinging onto every word.

Arthur’s clearly confused but stays silent.

“I’m not pathetic,” YN argues shakily, it felt dangerous to get bratty so soon but it was her submissive profile and character, it came naturally.

Harry quirks a brow, “Sir.”

YN gives him her own confused look.

“I’m not pathetic, sir. Every time you speak, try again.”

“I’m not pathetic,” YN bleats easily, a flutter of her eyelashes.

Harry smiles like a goddamn wolf.

“Oh, you’re not? Let’s test that theory,” Harry draws as he takes a few steps backwards, towards the door, “Come to me.”

YN stands up, on wobbly legs, and begins to but is stopped in her tracks by his hard voice.

“Hands and knees. Crawl for me, I want to show your fiancé how pathetic you are for me,” Harry has a humor, an evil sense of it.

YN drops to her hands and knees, nearly panting already, and begins to move.

++

summary of triggering scene: YN’s fiance chokes her and though it’s completely consensual he doesn’t know what he’s doing and almost hurts her. YN cannot safeword out at the time but harry stops the scene.

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[permanentswaps]

Virtually Limitless

For as long as he could remember, Dan had struggled with dieting and exercise. This year, he finally decided to make a change and go all in on fitness. That was how he met Cole, a hunky 26-year-old trainer at the local gym. After training with Cole for a few months, he still wasn’t making much progress. But that was ok, he was happy to crush over Cole and to discuss their mutual love of video games.

Dan loved video games so much, that he had actually made a career out of them. Dan's workplace, WeTech, was all cutting-edge virtual reality startup. One day, without his bosses knowing, Dan got his hands on a yet-to-be-released prototype and a game titled "Dragon Slayers." Naturally, he asked Cole if he wanted to try it out.

"So, how does this work?" Cole asked, a mix of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

Dan, grinning with anticipation, replied. "We pick our characters, put on the headsets, and say 'Start' followed by our player number. When we’re done, we just say 'Exit' and our player number again."

"Sounds pretty straightforward," Cole remarked, a playful smile on his face.

"Ready to go?" Dan asked, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Let's do it," Cole replied, the room buzzing with a shared sense of excitement. And with that, they plunged into the virtual world of "Dragon Slayers."

“Start Player 1,” said Dan.

“Start Player 2,” said Cole.

The room filled with the soft hum of tech and the glow of screens as they launched themselves into the digital adventure.

Once inside, Cole marveled at the virtual landscape of impressive mountains and valleys. Meanwhile Dan found himself enamored by another “landscape,” the topography of his newfound, virtual washboard abs.

"So, this is what it's like to be in such great shape," Dan mused, his virtual avatar flexing his digital muscles.

Spotting a beacon in the distance, Cole paid no attention to his comment. "Look, there's a beacon; we have to go this way!" he exclaimed, pointing towards the glowing light on the horizon.

Their journey reached a climax when they faced-off against a formidable dragon. After intensely battling for what felt like hours, the two sat down for a debrief.

Dan, catching his virtual breath, couldn't help but muse aloud, "That was incredible! Imagine having such a youthful and strong body all the time."

Cole, grinning mischievously, replied, "Maybe you could know," and without further explanation, initiated the process. "Exit Player 1," he declared, his voice echoing in the virtual realm, and his consciousness was abruptly pulled from the game.

Dan, still processing, hesitated for a moment. That was his player number. Then, with a hint of curiosity mixed with uncertainty, he muttered, "Exit Player 1." An error message flickered in the air in front of him..

Dan said with uncertainty, "Exit Player 2." In that instant, the virtual world around him warped, and he felt a sudden shift. Taking off his headset, he found himself looking at his own body, which had a playful smirk plastered across its face.

"This is so freaky; I didn't know if that would work," Cole confessed.

Dan, distractedly running his fingers over his new biceps through the fabric of his shirt, said half-heartedly, “We …. We have to switch back.”

"Hey, what’s the rush?" Cole asked. "Let’s stay like this for a bit. I can help get your body back on track with its diet, and in return, you might pick up some muscle memory from my training expertise."

Dan, still adjusting to the surreal experience of being in Cole's body, raised an eyebrow. "You really think that's a good idea?"

Cole chuckled, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. "Think about it, Dan. You'll get firsthand experience of what it's like to live in a body like this, and I'll ensure your body doesn't go on a fast-food frenzy while you're in mine. It's a win-win!"

Dan, intrigued by the proposition, finally grinned. "Alright, let's give it a shot. But just for a few weeks, okay?"

Cole laughed, clapping Dan on the shoulder, or rather, where his shoulder used to be in his own body. "Deal, buddy! This is going to be epic!"

---

Over the ensuing weeks, Dan wholeheartedly embraced his new life as Cole. The gym transformed into a second home.

One night, he found himself cheering on a client during a challenging workout.

Dan grinned, offering encouragement, "Come on George, you've got this! Remember, pain is just weakness leaving the body!"

The client, panting but motivated, nodded appreciatively. "You're on fire today, Cole! What's gotten into you?"

Dan laughed, a blend of his own infectious enthusiasm and newfound charisma. "Just trying out some new tricks. Gotta keep things exciting, you know?"

"Haha, I getcha.” George replied, wiping his sweat with a towel. “Oh by the way, I’m hitting the bars later with some friends. Wanna come along?" he asked.

Dan hesitated for a brief moment. In his old body, he would have never been cool enough for a night out like this. However, with newfound confidence and the thrill of embodying Cole's persona, he grinned and replied, "That sounds awesome, dude. I'll be there."

Later, at the local bars, Dan found himself reveling in the attention he was receiving from both guys and girls. Feeling the gaze of a guy from across the bar, Dan playfully flexed his biceps, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. The guy, drawn in by the confident display, couldn't resist approaching.

"Hey there, looking good," the guy said, initiating a playful flirtation.

“Not so bad yourself,” Dan replied. “What’s your name.”

“Bryan,” he replied with a smirk.

Before Dan knew it, he was back in Cole’s apartment hungrily making out with the twunk in his bed. As Dan ripped off his shirt, Bryan’s eyes grew wide looking at his muscles. Dan raised his arm and flexed his bicep at Bryan again before grabbing behind his head and holding Bryan’s face against his armpit.

Slowly, Dan reached down to unbutton his pants and slide down his briefs. Bryan quickly followed suit before straddling Dan’s waist. As Bryan shoved his face back into Dan’s pecks, Dan began to finger Bryan’s hole and cover his dick with lube. He thrust his hips upwards, slowly at first, but then picking up the pace.

As he pounded his hole, Bryan whispered “ugh I love your muscles. Please flex for me, sir.” Overcome with lust, Dan couldn’t help but flex as bear hugged Bryan and coated the inside of his hole. He’d have to do that again, he thought.

---

After enjoying a month in one another’s bodies, Cole and Dan returned to the virtual world for another quest. Following another climatic encounter, this time with a minotaur, the pair prepared themselves to exit the game.

Cole, eager to resume his life in his original body, confidently uttered the command, "Exit Player 2." However, the response was not as anticipated.

An eerie silence followed before an unmistakable voice echoed through the virtual space, delivering a message that froze the avatars in their tracks, "You can only go back to your original body."

Cole's avatar stood motionless, disbelief etched across its virtual face. "What? That can't be right," he exclaimed, trying the command again, "Exit Player 2!"

Dan, stifling a smirk, puts on a face of fake bewilderment. "Weird, I wonder why its not working," Dan said, his digital brows furrowed.

Panic seeped into Cole's voice as he desperately sought a solution. "We need to figure this out. I can't stay in your body forever," he muttered, his frustration palpable.

“Hmmm.” Dan said. “Exit Player 2.” The game ripping him back to reality.

---

Driven by desperation, Cole pleaded with WeTech to rectify the glitch that confined him to Dan's body. Despite his sincere appeals, the company's response was far from sympathetic, and in a cruel twist of fate, Cole found himself facing accusations of alleged theft of company equipment, resulting in his termination. The once-thriving fitness trainer now grappled with the harsh realities of unemployment and an out-of-shape body.

As Cole navigated the unexpected turns in his life, Dan reveled in the newfound freedom that he had secured. You see, a week before the anticipated swap back, Dan took it upon himself to email his former colleagues at WeTech, disclosing the glitch and urging them to patch it. Unbeknownst to Cole, this intentional act sealed Dan in his new, hunky body permanently.

Now, Dan looked forward to exploring life on his own terms. Particularly intriguing was the prospect of deepening his connection with Bryan. However, even if that path didn't unfold as expected, Dan wasn't concerned. With a body like this, the possibilities were virtually limitless.

[calummss]

dating 90s/00s eminem …

masterlist 𓆩♱𓆪

kim and hailie don’t exist in this universe

start and development of relationship

i definitely imagine him to take notice of you at one of the underground rap battles roughly 1992/1993

your friend who was interested in going dragged you along one night cause they were really into rap and hip hop

and there you saw him! the one and only marshall marthers destroying every opponent that stood before him

after the battles came to an end you were already attracted to him and tried to get to him to talk to him

here’s how i think it would go:

‘hey, i just wanted to tell you that you absolutely killed it on stage. it’s my first time here so i lack certain knowledge but i know enough to know that you have an incredible talent’

‘thank you. your first time? what’s your name?’

‘y/n’

‘eminem. marshall mathers’

i imagine you to awkwardly shake hands. like i know you’re in the detroit underground scene but neither of you knew how to proceed

‘i hope this won’t be a shot in the dark but can i give you my number?’ your mind literally racing

‘sure, i’ll give you a call if i’m interested’

THIS MAN TURNS AROUND AND DIALS YOUR NUMBER AND LETS YOU ANSWER!! turning around with a smirk and just straight up low key flirting with you

he was embarrassed to bring you to his home but you eventually just showed up one day cause he wasn’t returning calls—you reassured him that you didn’t care and let slip that you loved him no matter what

marshall was definitely a bit overwhelmed at first and took him like a minute to snap out of his trance because it was most likely the first time he truly felt loved, appreciated and cared for

you supported him and his music until he was eventually signed

everyone was confused why you stayed with a man who wrote violent lyrics especially about his wife so you had to explain over and over again that the wife was fictional

and everyone that truly knew marshall knew that he would never lay a hand on you. he would rather d!e than hurt you

three years after you meet you become pregnant and were scared he was going to leave (news flash he didn’t)

he reassured you that if you wanted to keep the baby that you two would figure it out and that he would and could never ever leave your side

you married quick and definitely rushed it but it proved to be the best decision you made including keeping the baby

this lead to the birth of your beautiful daughter—for some reason the name romy jane won’t leave my mind so i’ll just leave it at that

anyway you blink and stardom surrounds marshall

a few hiccups occurred during the relationship but nothing major and you always managed to talk things trough

what the relationship would include

his hand would alway be on your waist! no matter if you’re on his lap, standing next to him or whatever, his hand will be at its rightful place

i believe he prefers cheek and jaw kisses. he loves a good forehead kiss and hand kiss when he’s emotional and talking to you about certain struggles

speaking of struggles; he would always and i mean always put on his strong persona for you but sometimes his walls would crumble and would cry into your shoulder holding you so tight like you’re about to slip from his grasp

you would make appearances in a few music videos

he would also prefer to be in the studio alone but brings you along when all demos are done to get your opinion because he values it a lot (low key more than dres)

of course you would be his main inspiration for a lot of songs, also you daughter, because he admires both of you so much

marshall is 100% a very jealous and possessive man. not overbearing but maybe a little more intense than the average man? he trusts you fully but not others. he doesn’t forbid you of anything but will always say and do stuff to let others know that you’re off limits

i imagine after you got married he got a tattoo of your face or name on his chest like right over his heart

likes holding hands in public and an occasional kiss but nothing more. he prefers his affection to be reserved for only you and not the world

ONLY refers to you as ‘my girl’. when he’s with friends he’d say stuff like ‘yo, where is my girl?’. and others would also refer to you as ‘his girl’. at one point you just got the nickname ‘slim’s girl’ or ‘shady’s girl’ depending on which you prefer

tries to keep you away from hollywood and only goes for recordings, shows etc. when he’s done you both leave for detroit to lead a somewhat quiet life

definitely will buy you a lot of gifts. sometimes expensive or cheap; something that reminds him of you or something he knows you want. he just feels like showering you with gifts. his love language is giving gifts or acts of service. he will watch your favourite show just because you like it

em will always thank you in his speeches!! something along the lines of ‘first of all thank you to dr. dre and my two beautiful girls who i love with my entire heart. you two are my world, i love you!’

but like you don’t understand he will always thank you. he could win a life time supply of soap and he would say your name with pride…he’s just so grateful to have you and to be able to call you family

would hold your bag/bags for you. marshall gives you princess treatment without realising bc he genuinely wants to do it. he will snatch those bags out of your hands before you can protest

when other artists or people take your name or your daughter’s name into their mouths with negative connotations you best believe em will rip them apart, so most people will never attack you or romy bc it’s a death sentence

people can call him lame, bad rapper, ugly, whatever they feel like but as soon as anyone mentions a hair on you or romy’s bodies…it’s over. careers are shredded…you love it though

if you are a girl who likes to get her nails done this is for you; at first you started asking him to choose a design and colour and at first he was confused but he learned to love it especially when you scratched his head or your hands around his yknow what…he even once tried to design some and you got it done

the sex is a mix of mildy rough and vanilla. sometimes you both need something a little more “agressive” but he also needs a calm session. i see it kind as a light switch: it’s either rough or vanilla, occasionally you mix it but it turns out one way or another

also the man is a sucker (pun) for head. like he loves your mouth on him. i genuinely believes it’s in his top 2 favourite sexual activities (don’t deny it i’m right)

extra: if you love marshall right and you two work, it will be both of yours best love, but if things don’t work they can quickly turn into a relationship from hell

#eminem #eminem imagine #eminem headcanon #eminem imagines #eminem fanfic #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem x you #eminem x y/n #90s #00s #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers imagines #marshall mathers headcanon #marshall mathers fanfic #marshall mathers fanfiction #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers x you #marshall mathers x y/n

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut, rough p in v, fingering, some handjob, f!reader, spanking, semi-public sex Synopsis: you and Dabi snag an invite to a party Shigaraki's throwing. Realizing your wardrobe lacks the glam, you strong-arm your boyfriend Dabi into a shopping spree. Despite initial reluctance, he tackles things in his own, cocky style A/N: this little fic was written in honor of the birthday of my incredibly gifted mutual - @dabismoon - I hope you'll enjoy this petite one shot ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The heap of garments had amassed on the bed, growing steadily as you sifted through the wardrobe, discarding outfit after outfit. The frustration bubbled within you, reaching its peak as you bellowed to Dabi in the adjacent room.

"I can't find a single thing to wear for the party tonight!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying the tone of exasperation.

A mumbled response reached your ears, prompting you to traverse the distance and find Dabi, your villainous boyfriend, lounging indifferently with a beer in hand, fixated on the television screen. His nonchalant demeanor was evident as he puffed on a cigarette, seemingly uninterested in your sartorial predicament.

Without much enthusiasm, he nodded in acknowledgment of your complaint, casually remarking that he was sure you could surely find something suitable to adorn yourself for the fucking party Shigaraki had coerced every League member into attending.

Determined, you declared, "Ok. I've decided that you're taking me shopping... no arguments!"

Dabi attempted to dissuade you, gesturing towards the television where news about Endeavor played, as if it held greater significance. "Babe, seriously?"

Disregarding his protests, you seized his lengthy coat, your car keys, and his hand, urging him towards the door despite his low growls, not bothering yourself to turn the TV off.

"Doll, you've got a plethora of clothes, and you still claim to have nothing to choose from? That's utterly ridiculous," Dabi groaned, wresting his hand free, swiftly disposing of his cigarette in a crystal ashtray. With an unhappy grimace etched across his face, he begrudgingly adorned his coat. "I won't be dressing up like a fucking fool just to mingle with those lunatics," he grumbled, his discontent palpable.

After three hours of aimless meandering through a plethora of shops, the details of each one eluding your memory, you stumbled upon a dress that tickled your fancy. Amidst the sea of countless dresses tried on in pursuit of the perfect ensemble, you finally discovered one that resonated with your taste. Eager to see how it would adorn you, you headed for the changing rooms. En route to the fitting room, you deftly accumulated a selection of lingerie as well.

Thoughts of acquiring alluring lingerie danced in your mind, contemplating the ways you could model them for Dabi — whether in person or through the lens - to keep him company during those prolonged missions with the League. A stack of lingerie, featuring neon shades, delicate baby pinks, and enticing black lace, awaited your scrutiny.

As you boldly pulled back the curtain, Dabi made a move to follow you inside. A quick about-face, a dismissive shake of your head, and a pointed indication toward a chair stationed just beyond the dressing area thwarted his entry.

Dabi complained, "So I don't even get the fun bit of watching you change to brighten up this fucking unnecessary trip?"

However, it was futile - you insisted he wait over there. With the realization that he couldn't join in the fashion spectacle, you swiftly snapped pictures of each lingerie piece as you were trying them on. Seeking Dabi's discerning opinion, you bombarded him with inquiries regarding your sartorial choices. After the final snapshot found its way to your boyfriend's inbox, an air of suspense hung in the digital ether. Yet, as the seconds ticked away, there was no immediate response from Dabi, leaving you with a frown crossing your forehead.

As you cautiously peeked outside to ensure he hadn't ventured too far, the thick curtain was unceremoniously thrust aside. And there he stood – Dabi, eyeing you with a hunger akin to a starving predator, meticulously taking in the alluring contours of your body adorned in a provocative lingerie set. The fabric, a blend of black sheer lace with a hint of hot pink trimming, clung enticingly to your form.

The bra, designed with a daring split in the cups, left your nipples exposed, proudly making their presence known in response to the sight before you as they instantly stiffened. An instinctive reaction led you to subtly rub your thighs together, a silent attempt to quell the burgeoning heat within you. Your boyfriend, tall and commanding, exuding an air of nonchalance, leaned casually against the changing room wall, his gaze fixed on you.

Without uttering a single word, Dabi seized the moment, propelling you further into the confines of the changing room. With a deft motion, he drew the curtain close, creating an intimate space.

Dabi deftly took hold of your left nipple, his slender forefinger and thumb teasingly tweaking it.

The heat rapidly ascended along your neck, and your breaths quickened as he leaned in, delivering a fierce kiss and an ardent suck on your pulse point. Lowering his head, his warm mouth enveloped the other nipple with a determination, unleashing a sweet yet sharp sensation at its base. The overwhelming pleasure threatened to elicit sounds of ecstasy, but you fought to maintain composure as delicious waves of sensation cascaded over you. "Handsome," you whispered, barely moving your lips as you slipped one hand into his soft, black hair.

Dabi's free hand, not content with just teasing, boldly tugged aside the lacy panties you had on, inspecting how wet you were getting. His verdict: dripping wet. With a forceful motion, the elastic was yanked down your legs, severing all of his contact from your eager nipples as his attention fell on the panties. In one swift move, they were stripped from your hips and deftly retrieved from the floor.

As though it were the most ordinary sequence of events, Dabi casually unzipped the fly of his black, fitted jeans, revealing a semi-hardened cock. Nonchalantly, he wiped the pre-cum off its reddened tip with the lacy panties, and thrust the fabric into your partially opened mouth. The mingling taste of both yourself and him on the fabric elicited a lascivious moan that escaped your lips.

Dabi's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smoothly retrieved his own phone, swiftly capturing an image of your aroused state. "Sorry, doll, but you look adorable, all fired up like a cheap whore you secretly are," he remarked, seamlessly sliding his phone back into the rear pocket of his pants. With a sly grin, he pulled the panties out of your mouth, raising them to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Mmmm, absolutely perfect," he growled, stashing the intoxicating garment into the same back pocket. "Guess we're gonna take 'em."

Dabi slipped his hand between your thighs, and you willingly parted them further in anticipation. A dark giggle escaped him at your eagerness. "Look at you, princess, so eager to help me touch that pretty little pussy. What? Is my doll all needy? Moments ago, you didn't want to let me watch you, but look at ya now, eager as never before."

Staring intensely into your captivating eyes, Dabi smoothly slid his long middle finger deep inside your slick pussy, eliciting an immediate moan and causing you to instinctively shut your eyes in response.

"No, no, princess, we ain't gonna play like that. Look at me, I want your eyes on me, now," he commanded, leaning forward to place a tender peck on your forehead.

Complying with his directive, you followed his lead, biting down on your lower lip with enough force to draw a bead of blood after opening your eyes again, looking into his turquoise ones.

For a span of a good minute or two, Dabi expertly fingered you, exploring every millimeter of your pussy until your spongy walls began to clench rhythmically around his finger, a clear indication of your impending climax.

"You ain't gonna get off so easily, doll," he declared, withdrawing his digit and lifting it to your lips. With a deliberate motion, he parted your lips with his thumb, prompting you to accept his finger into your mouth.

You sucked your own juices off his digit, moaning quietly without breaking the eye contact.

Dabi seized a generous handful of your supple ass, drawing you closer to him in a forceful manner, engaging in a passionate make-out session with you, pushing his pierced tongue down your throat.

Unabashedly, you dared to extend your hand, wrapping it around his now fully-erect cock, expertly jerking it while rising onto your tiptoes for a more comfortable angle.

Your actions proved successful as Dabi moaned into your mouth, punctuating the moment with a couple of spanks on your ass before tenderly squeezing the supple flesh, indulging in a thorough massage.

In the next instant, he decisively detached your hand from his throbbing cock and pivoted you around, urging you forward until you were facing a lengthy mirror.

Dabi positioned your hands high on either side of the mirror, granting you a comprehensive view of your entire form and his presence looming behind you in the reflective surface.

In a hushed tone, he murmured, "Now, we don't have much time, baby. You wasted too much time already wandering throughout all those stupid stores and teasing me like a bitch you are. I'm going to fuck you hard and cum deep inside you. Do you understand?"

Meeting his gaze in the mirror's reflection, you nodded in affirmation.

"Good," he declared, punctuating his words with another firm spank on your ass. His hand deftly secured your left cheek, spreading it as he gripped his throbbing member. With the tip of his cock, Dabi traced an enticing path up and down your exposed entrance, your juices already glistening and trickling down your thigh.

Without delay, he forced your cunt open with his rigid shaft, delivering a single, powerful thrust that brought him to the hilt inside you. "Fffuuuuccckkk," Dabi breathed out through gritted teeth.

Any potential scream was mercifully muffled by his hand wrapping around your neck, applying a tight squeeze that momentarily restricted your airflow. "Don't you dare moan like you do back home. Our neighbors are accustomed to your bitchy moans and whines, but here people are not, yeah? And the last thing I need today is getting caught with my dick stuffed in your tight cunt," he warned, nibbling your earlobe.

You were relentlessly slammed into, the force akin to a piston driving into your pussy again and again and again.

Dabi's hands greedily explored your soft flesh - your breasts, hips, belly, occasionally slipping between your thighs to playfully tease your swollen clitoris.

Little moans escaped your lips as you pressed your cheek against the cold glass, the surface already fogging up from the intensity of your heavy breathing.

Dabi, panting with an intensity akin to a dog in heat, delivered hard spanks to your ass and the back of your thighs. "You enjoy it when I take you rough like this, don't ya, doll? Hmm? Oh yeah, ya love it. You're quite the dirty whore," he chuckled into your ear. "Don't worry, daddy will fuck you the way you crave the most, princess."

Dabi intensified his rhythm, a firm grip on your hips as he relentlessly thrust into your slippery cunt.

The only sounds resonating within the confines of the changing room were a harmonious blend of your mixed gasps and moans, accompanied by the resonating slap of flesh against flesh, each time his weighty balls hit the curve of your supple ass.

"Dabi..." you whined, already breathless.

Smack, smack, smack! A sequence of forceful spanks landed on your ass. "Address me properly, princess, or I'll have to think of a punishment, and trust me, you won't want that," Dabi growled, sinking his teeth into the column of your neck.

"Daddy," you whispered, your mouth parched from moans and panting, the act of swallowing causing a sweet ache. "Harder," you pleaded. "Harder."

"Mmmm," Dabi slowed his thrusts, his cock reaching deep within you, the tip delicately grazing your cervix as he came to a complete stop. "I knew you had a wild side, little whore, but now you've surprised me. Daddy's going to fulfill your wish," he declared with a sultry promise.

And thus, it commenced. Without delay, he placed a hand on your head, pressing you more firmly against the mirror. The intensity escalated, his hips snapping with relentless determination.

"Oh my God," you managed to utter as you slid a hand between your legs, tracing delicate circles over your slick-covered folds.

Slap, slap, slap! Each thrust felt harder and deeper than the last. His strong hand seized a handful of your hair, pulling you further onto his pulsating dick as he forewarned, "Princess, I'm gonna cum. Daddy's going to coat your sweet cunt with his seed."

Bracing yourself, you endured a final series of sloppy thrusts as Dabi's grunts reverberated down your ear. Rising on your tiptoes, you attempted to accommodate the force emanating from his groin. "Cumming, cumming, fuck," Dabi aggressively grunted, and came deep inside of you, his warm, thick semen spurting from the slit of his tip, painting your spongy walls until they were all adorned in a coating of white.

After withdrawing, Dabi took a moment to appreciate his job, observing the mix of his cum and your juices as they dribbled from your well-used hole.

Depleted and breathless, you whimpered, "I need to drink something, my mouth's dry, Dabi…"

"I'll get you water," he responded casually, extracting panties from his back pocket to once again clean himself off. "You were such a filthy whore, doll. Just the way I like ya the most," he added, punctuating his words with a playful spank that made you yelp as he seemingly heated up his palm, leaving a vivid red mark on your ass cheek. "Get fucking dressed now, we only have an hour to get back home and get ready for that fucking party."

Dabi gathered a few bras and panties before leaving you in the changing room.

As you slid your knickers back on, you smeared the cream of your mixed fluids between your puffy cunt lips. You bit down on your knuckle to stifle a reaction to coldness brought forth by the slick wetness.

You haven't cum so hard such in a good two days, you thought to yourself.

Once dressed, you exited the fitting room only to spot Dabi at the checkout, purchasing every item you had tried on. A self-satisfied grin played on your lips, met with a nod from him. Ah, you already had a plan in mind for how you'd repay him.

#dabi smut #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki smut #dabi x you #anime smut #bnha smut #dabi fic #mha dabi #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi mha #dabi fanfic #mha smut #bnha dabi #divider by cafekitsune #smut writing

[girlgenius1111]

got love struck went straight to my head

alexia x reader smut :) 18+

alexia has been in a bad mood all week. she finally tells r what she needs to feel better. bottom alexia rights [literally thought i would die writing top alexia but i had a few requests, and this was fun].

Alexia was irritable, in a way you hadn't seen her since her injury. This time, though, you really weren't sure what the cause was. She was playing well, the team was playing well. The two of you weren't having any problems, as far as you could tell. Nothing had changed in the last week, except that Alexia was acting like she had a stick up her ass 24 hours a day. She barely spoke, opting instead to glare at everyone around her, and when she did speak, it was to snap at whoever was nearest.

You were tired of it and so was the team. Your teammates had been approaching you all week, asking what you'd done to piss Alexia off. You didn't have an answer, and you were just going to let it run it's course, sure her moodiness would pass. That was until Jona pulled you aside after practice, telling you that whatever was going, you had to fix it, because he couldn't take another day with grumpy Alexia.

She was clearly upset about something. The thing was that Alexia was very much the dominant one in the relationship. You weren't really used to having to strong arm her into talking to you; normally she had to do that with you. You'd give it your best shot, though, not really sure how it would go.

You made your move after practice that day, walking into the living room to find her on the couch, grumpy look on her face, scrolling on her phone. Deciding to be bold, you grabbed it out of her hand, and put it in your pocket. She looked up at you, raising an eyebrow, and wordlessly reaching her hand out for you to give it back. It was hard not to, honestly; Alexia could be incredibly intimidating when she wanted, and you weren't used to being on the receiving end of it.

"I want to talk."

"I do not." She responded bitingly, really glaring up at you now.

"Alexia," you sigh, taking a seat on the couch next to her outstretched legs. "What is going on with you?"

"I do not know what you are talking about." She said stubbornly, crossing her arms. She looked like the picture of defiance, like a child refusing to eat her vegetables.

"Love, you absolutely do. You've been mean to everyone this week, including me."

There was a flicker of insecurity across her face at that.

"Alexia, it's me. Tell me what's going on. If something is bothering you, I want to know, I want to help."

Alexia gazed up at you, weighing her options. She took a deep breath, but didn't speak. Instead she grabbed your hand, lacing her fingers with yours.

"I need you." She murmured. You weren't really sure what she meant, and you didn't want to read the situation wrong.

"What do you need from me, baby?"

Alexia squirmed slightly, a blush heating her cheeks.

"You" she responds. You thought you understood now, but it didn't make much sense. Obviously, you and Alexia hadn't had sex in the past week, because she'd been in a horrible mood, but you hadn't gone long without it. Certainly not long enough to warrant the desperate, pleading look in her eyes. Something else was going on, you were sure.

"You have me, Alexia, I don't understand." You figured playing dumb may get Alexia to get frustrated enough to tell you what she really wanted. It worked.

"No, amor, I need you. I need you to fuck me," she declared, looking somewhat unsure. Normally, she was the one that did the fucking. Of course, she got off too, but the way she said it seemed like she wanted you to be in charge. If anyone was a textbook top by definition it was Alexia. You hadn't considered that she wasn't entirely happy in this role.

You remove your hand from her grasp, instead resting it on her thigh. Her breath catches, and you know exactly what she wants.

"Are you needy, baby?" Alexia only nods her head in response, cheeks still flushed red. "Is that why you've been grouchy all week? Because you need me to fuck you?"

"Si, I need it so bad," she responds, almost breathless from your hand moving up and down her thigh.

"Alexia, why didn't you tell me that?"

You would fuck her. You just needed her to understand that she had to ask for the things she wanted, especially when they weren't the norm between you two. Alexia's eyes drop from yours as she shrugs.

"I know you like it when I am in charge. I did not know if you would be open to changing things up," she admits.

"I want what you want. If you want me to be in charge, I will. I need to hear you say it, though, Alexia. Tell me exactly what you want." You're fully teasing now, unashamed.

Alexia squeezes her eyes shut, summoning her nerve, before she opens her eyes again.

"I want you to tell me what to do, I will be good for you. I want you to fuck me, please, amor," she said, her voice quiet. You truly had been completely unaware that Alexia had a thing for praise. It was not something you'd be forgetting any time.

"With what?" You ask. The question takes a second to register. You can tell the second she understands, though, because her face turns even redder, which you didn't know was possible.

"Your cock," Alexia whispers, and you smile smugly down at her. You stand, and she rises quickly, a whine escaping her lips. You turn back to her, bringing her in for a heated kiss. She allows you you take complete control, one of your hands lacing into her hair, holding her securely against you. You pull back after a minute, not letting her get too far.

"Take your clothes off, and get on the bed." You tell her, your words not more than a whisper against her lips. You really are startled at how fast the midfielder follows your instructions.

You take your time, heading into the bedroom after her once you're sure she's had enough time. You find her sitting on the edge of the bed, completely naked, looking nervous. You don't want her nervous, though, not at all. You cross the room fast, gently taking her face in your hands.

"Take a breath, baby," you tell her. "We'll only do what you're comfortable with, and we can stop whenever you want, alright?"

Alexia nods, looking more reassured. She leans up, lips searching for yours. You kiss her softly, pouring your love into it, hoping to ease the rest of her anxiety. She looks dazed when you pull back, and you know you've succeeded.

"Lay down," you tell her, and she does. You allow your eyes to hungrily scan her body, taking in her full breasts, her rippling abs. Her thighs are parted slightly, and you're sure you're seeing wrong when you think you see wetness smeared along the insides. There's no way she was wet enough for that yet.

You take your time taking your own clothes off, stripping right in front of her, eyes not leaving hers. Her pupils are blown wide looking up at you, and her legs are pressed together. You move to the bedside drawer, pulling out the harness she normally wears, and the dildo you love taking the most. You step into it, fitting the cock into the harness, but struggling to tighten it around your hips.

You walk back over to her as you fight with it, and Alexia's fingers quickly replace yours, expertly tightening the straps around your body. Her eyes are stuck on the strap, her lips parting slightly, before she looks up at you.

"Can I suck it?" she asks. You try not to let your surprise show, as you tell her she can. Not a second later, she's taking your length into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down. She gets it nice and wet, before she takes it fully down her throat, gagging slightly.

You're sure your jaw is dropped at the filthy sight in front of you, and you can only watch as Alexia chokes on your cock, eyes shutting as she moves. You tangle your hand in her hair, gathering it in a makeshift ponytail, before tugging lightly on it. She moans in response, and you're encouraged, guiding her to move faster against the fake dick.

After a few minutes, Alexia has tears in her eyes, and spit dripping from her chin. You pull your strap out of her mouth, gently wiping her face off with a towel you always kept near the bed.

"Good?" you check, thumb moving softly back and forth across her cheek as she pants for breath.

"Si, soy tan buena" she replies breathlessly. You guide her to scoot back on the bed, climbing on top of her. Once again, you connect your lips with hers, pushing your tongue into her mouth, easily dominating the kiss. You nibble on her bottom lip, relishing in tiny whine she lets out into your mouth, feeling her hips move under you.

You move your leg to nudge her legs apart, not breaking the kiss, and press your thigh up against her core. You pull back from her face in shock, as she is completely drenched. Her eyes are closed, and she is completely focused on grinding against your leg. You leave it for now, pressing your lips back to hers, making out for several minutes as she moves against you.

When she begins to pant into your mouth, not able to keep up with your kisses, you pull back, removing your leg from in between hers. Her eyes fly open, looking up at you desperately. You climb off of her, spreading legs wide open, and taking in the sight in front of you. She is literally dripping, hole clenching and unclenching, clit peeking out of it's hood. You're sure you've never felt her this wet before.

"You're fucking soaking, baby," you whisper, and she nods. "Is this all for me?" you ask, gently running your index finger through her slick. Her hips buck up into your hand.

"Si, all for you, bonita. Please, I need you," she begs, eyes wide. Having heard enough, you push her legs farther apart, and bend down, running your tongue through her. She moans at the first contact, and you press a hand onto her abdomen, stopping her movements against you. You know what Alexia likes, and you know she is in no mood to be teased, so you set a fast past with your tongue, pushing in and out of her entrance.

You lick her wetness up, though it's quickly replaced, enjoying the salty tase of her on your tongue. You focus on her pussy for another minute, before moving up to flick your tongue across her clit. She cries out at this, hands tangling in your hair. You pull away.

"Play with your nipples," you instruct, and she complies instantly, bring her hands away from your hair, up to her sensitive chest. She rolls her nipples in between her fingers, and you reconnect your mouth with her core. She's been wet enough for a while, but only now do you ease a finger into her. It slides in easily, and soon, a second joins it. You keep your pace steady, wanting her to ask for more.

"Mas rapida, por favor," she gasps, body writhing on the mattress. You give in, beginning to pump your fingers in and out of her at a rapid pace. At the same time, you take her clit into your mouth, suckling hard on it, and Alexia comes hard, crying out your name. You work her through it, listening to her whimpers as she comes down, hips still moving in tandem with your hands.

You stand, pulling her to the edge of the bed, legs wrapping around your waist to keep you against her. You drag your strap over her center, enjoying the way she moves against you, desperate for more.

"Amor, no more teasing," she pleads. "Need your cock in me,"

"Okay, baby," you soothe. "You've been so good for me, gonna fuck you now," you tell her, watching, entranced, as she gasps at your words. You line up and push into her. Alexia lets out a guttural moan, and you almost do as well, struck with how tight you find her. She's soaked, though, and she doesn't seem to be uncomfortable at all as you drag your cock in and out of her at a slow pace.

Alexia is in a state of pure pleasure under you, hands fisted in the sheets, head thrown back. Your arms are wrapped around her legs, and you start to move faster, gripping her hard. You're pushing in deep, and she moves one of her hands down, desperate for more stimulation. Just as she's about to make contact with her swollen clit, you grab her hand and press it back into the mattress. Her eyes fly open, looking up at you desperately.

"No, no. I'll take care of you, pretty girl, you just relax," you state, moving your hand from where it held her thigh, moving her leg out of the way, and beginning to rub firm circles over her clit. Alexia is moaning with every thrust now, and you know she's close. Her hand comes down again, this time to grab your free one. She brings it up, guiding it to wrap around her throat. Your eyes search hers, needing to know that she is completely comfortable. You only see arousal in her eyes, and you squeeze lightly. That's all it takes, before she's falling over the edge, body spasming as she comes.

You let up for only a minute as she comes down, pulling out only to flip her onto her stomach. You pull her hips up, before sliding back in, and she whimpers at the stimulation.

"One more for me, beautiful, wanna come with you," you tell her. Alexia's back arches more, and her ass presses back into you. You palm it with one hand, feeling the harness press against your clit. Normally, you don't think it would be enough for you, but the sight of her under you, fucking back against your strap as she breaths hard, watching your strap disappear into her, coming out dripping, is more than enough.

Your groan as you pound into her, pressing in harder and faster than you were before.

"Are you going to come with me, Ale?" you ask.

"Si, estoy tan cerca, amor," she responds, words broken up by whines. You can see a sheen of sweat on her back, and take in how her legs shake under her, and know she is close.

"So good for me, Ale. My good girl. You like it when I fuck you, hmm?"

Alexia's hips stutter as she gets closer, your words dragging her towards the edge, fast.

"Si, si mi amor, soy tu buena chica," she gasps, apparently losing the ability to speak english.

"Come for me now Alexia, come on my cock," you grunt through gritted teeth, hips pressing in as you feel your orgasm begin to wash over you. Alexia screams out your name, neighbors completely forgotten, as you bury your cock deep inside her one last time, grinding against her as you work yourself through your orgasm. You collapse on top of her, resting her forehead on her back, panting.

Alexia is a mess beneath you, and you pull out slowly, maneuvering her onto her back, despite barely being able to move yourself. Alexia looks incredibly overstimulated, though, body still twitching. Once on her back, Alexia lets out a pitiful cry, reaching for you. You slide back onto the bed, pulling her into your side.

"Mi niña perfecta, te amo mucho, Ale," you tell her, pressing light kisses onto the side of her face. She's still silent, nuzzling her face into your body. You rub her back soothingly, waiting for her body to stop trembling.

"Thank you," she says quietly, the words mumbled into your neck.

"Of course, Alexia. Next time, tell me what you want, hmm? Don't make our whole team suffer because you need me to fuck you."

Alexia laughs against you. It will be enjoyable, tomorrow, to watch her try to explain to your teammates what was behind the sudden change in mood.

-----

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader