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#but I guess it's impossible to not be spoiled

vee-is-a-clown · 1 year

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Grey's Anatomy episode 9, season 13:

Arizona pretends to not remember a hot girl to have the upper hand with flirting.

Voltron Legendary Defenders episode 1, season 1:

Keith appears to not remember Lance for unknown reasons.

#Grey's Anatomy spoilers #but I guess it's impossible to not be spoiled #it has about 19 seasons #plus I don't think anyone here watches Grey's Anatomy #if you do #I'm so sorry #voltron #keith voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #klance #vld lance #lance voltron #lance mcclain

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purpleyang234 · 2 years

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It's quite fun to see things for the wizards era because sometimes I will find comments of people that are like “I can't wait to see the movie!” or things like that. Things that are very positive and looking forward for R*TT and I just. Stand there. Looking at the comment and remembering the entire “A big chunk of the fandom living through the eight stages of grief in like, less than a week” ajwhqheuwhw

#u know what at some point i was excited too #then i got to tumblr the morning of the premiere and got spoiled about the changelings dying #and i said no #no fuck this cannot be true #and entered in negation lmao #i also got spoiled with how the movie ended and i was like “Nonono impossible” haha i was a fool.#in my defense i hate the “protag reverses time and erases everything” sorry i got traumatized with teen beach movie 2 when i was little ok #trollhunters #toa #rott salt #i guess?#it's not too salty i think but uh it's not the most positive thing either?

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desperatepleasures · 2 years

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one great thing about orv is that I'm 67 episodes into the webcomic and still cannot understand a single orv post on my timeline

#orv tag #impossible to spoil me at this point tbh you could tell me literally anything and I'll be like yeah i guess I'll take your word for it

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homoeroticism · 2 years

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on the train to meet up w my sister before the big time rush concert and i am just thinking and. So shocked that there isnt more fanart of ronan and hennessy wielding their swords

#it just seems so cool in my mind like i want tattoos of the swords and all that #but i guess i should finish the series before i make that official #also if there is a reason for the lack of art of them w their swords dont spoil me pls i need to read mr impossible

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gothamcityneedsme · 8 months

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love seeing all the theories ppl have for the last ep. people are clocking brainiac and then 100% missing the Actual Final Villain Reveal

#Shitpost #to be fair. Its like. Impossible to guess #i just got spoiled by design docs gjsjfj #I JUST AM SO EXCITED TO SEE HER

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sytoran · 5 months

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ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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ghostfacd · 5 months

Text

WIRED AUTOCOMPLETE. | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. in which you and tom make a special appearance on wired’s autocomplete interview

installment of this au | recommend reading for more context

“Hi — we’re Y/N Avocot and Tom Blyth — and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview!”

You’re both handed a white board, bigger than your face, and there’s a list of questions with some of the words covered.

“Do you want to go first?” Tom asks, giving you a small smile.

“Yes! I’m pretty excited actually,” you begin to peel off the first question. “Okay, first question: what was Y/N Avocot’s first role?”

You think for a moment, “well in terms of roles in general, my first acting role was very small and I believe it was for this ice cream commercial as a kid. I’m not sure if it’s still up but my mom had signed me up for it and they thought I was a really cute kid so they casted me.”

Tom laughs, “really?” He then retrieves his board from the crew. “Okay my turn. Why does Coriolanus Snow turn evil?”

That question makes you slightly giggle, because it’s so broad that it’s nearly impossible for Tom to narrow down exactly what it is that made Coriolanus suddenly switch. “I believe you should be asking Suzanne Collins, shout-out to her for making the entire trilogy and prequel. But honestly? I think he was always power hungry, and even though Tigris tried her very best to bring out the humanity in him, it was just never enough. Especially after Sejanus’s death, I think Coriolanus realized there was no going back.”

“Oh wow,” you say, very impressed with how he decided to answer it. “That was a terrific answer Tom.”

“Thank you m’lady.” You giggle at his antics, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“What role does Y/N Avocot play in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes?” You clear your throat, imitating one of your character’s iconic resting bitch face.

“I play Balleona Laurent, duh.” You joke. “Anyway, yes, I play Balleona, also known as Leona. She’s originally from the Capitol just like Coriolanus. They met at the academy and she automatically knew she had to have him. She comes from the Laurent family, which is a very very wealthy, well off, intimidating family that Coriolanus knows he just has to get into, which is why they start dating. I don’t wanna spoil too much of Leona and Corio in the movie, soooo you guys should definitely check it out!”

“Alright,” Tom adjusts himself in his seat, ripping off the paper for the next question. “Does Tom Blyth have a girlfriend?”

He pretends to think, which makes you bite your lip, suppressing a laugh. “Hmm, very complex question.”

“Oh give the people what they want!” You tease, “yes he does. He’s inlove with Jennifer Lawrence.”

“I am not inlove with Jennifer Lawrence!” He exclaims quickly, “although I greatly admire her work. My girlfriend is Y/N Avocot over here, sadly.”

“Sadly?!” You fake offense, “cut the cameras. I’m gonna beat Tom up.”

You peel away at your next question, the interview already being loads of fun for the both of you. “Is Y/N Avocot a good singer?”

Your head falls forward, and Tom’s automatic instinct is to catch you, not realizing you’re only joking. “Oh God, I hope so!” You say, laughing as you pick your head up. “I’m no Mariah Carey but I like to think I’m a pretty okay singer.”

“More than okay,” Tom chimes in, which makes you laugh.

“Aw, thanks Tom.”

Tom reaches to peel another question off. “Is Tom Blyth American?” This question makes you almost spit out the water you were currently taking a sip out of. “Well, a lot of people get shocked when I say I’m from the UK. I mean, is my American accent that good?”

“Guess so,” you shrug. “Okay next. Is Y/N Avocot in The Summer I Turned Pretty?”

You clasp your hands together excitedly, giving the camera a wide smile. “Yes! I play Maekella Fisher, also known as Ella Fisher, Steven Conklin’s love interest and sister to Conrad and Jeremiah. The first season airs out soon so please stay tune for that! I’m so excited to be apart of this amazing show with such amazing people.”

“I always come to watch her on set,” Tom says, “they’re all such funny and charismatic people. I swear I’ve became friends with everyone on Y/N’s cast.”

“Okay, my last question,” Tom peels off the paper, grinning. “Will Tom Blyth star in another movie soon?”

He smirks, eyes playfully looking into the camera. “Who knows? But I do know that something exciting will be coming out soon so prepare yourselves!”

“Way to tease the crowd Blyth,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Anyway! My last question, this was quick. What is Y/N Avocot’s skincare routine? Oh, I’ve been waiting for this one.”

You sit on the edge of your seat, and Tom finds it endearing that you’re so excited about something as small as this.

“First, I rinse my face with cold water and I dip my face in a bowl of ice and water for 3 minutes. Afterwards, I put on my dewy toner from Innisfree, it’s so smooth and nice. Sometimes I’m too lazy for this step but I also put on sunscreen, it’s important so I always remind myself to not forget— but I love to use Supergoop Unseen’s Sunscreen. I use drunk elephant’s bronze drops if I wanna go for a sunkissed look that day, but I usually don’t. And then I just shake my Tower facial spray and spray it all over my face. Usually, I touch up my eyebrows and do my eyeliner but that’s really about it!”

“It’s true,” Tom adds. “She asked me if I could go buy her the tower spray yesterday because she was almost out.”

“No need to expose me like that,” you say, clinging your arms onto his. “Well thank you guys for watching!”

“Thank you!” Tom and you wave at the camera, smiling brightly.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tbosbas #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

Hi! I hope your day has been well :]. If you don't mind, could you do some headcannons on Task 141 + konig or just 141 reacting to their s/o having boobs that just never fit in a button up?

Like the button up will just pop open after a long time of trying to close it. So their s/o just wears it halfway open and is completely oblivious to the "seductive/hot" look it gives her.

Thank you ^^

You're Killing Me // 141 Drabbles

Warning(s): suggestive language/content, brief mention of harassment, established relationship, fem!reader, no use of y/n Word Count: 1.4k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS; you had spent nearly twenty minutes unbuttoning and re-buttoning the top. You twirled around, bent down, spread your arms—sometimes just breathed and they popped right out. It was a hopeless battle, and you had lost all your patience fighting the size of your chest. In return, you kept the shirt buttoned down about halfway. There was more cleavage showing than you were used to, but it was only you and him there, so why not leave the neckline free? They needed to breathe, anyhow.

Price

John was somewhere in the house, but nowhere in sight. Most days the clearing of his throat or an earth-shattering sneeze are the only things that let you know he’s even home.

Today was no different. He was probably somewhere in his office if you had a guess. You walked down the stairs and went to the kitchen, deciding to cook some brunch for the two of you. You brewed some coffee for him, easy enough because he liked it black. Then, began cooking some eggs and toast to go with the caffeine.

When finished, you carefully picked up the plate you arranged, then the mug. Before you could turn, you heard the familiar clearing of a throat.

❝What are you doing, sweetheart?❞ He asked, but his words began to quiet when he saw your shirt only buttoned halfway. His eyes bulged slightly, very slightly, but he was eerily good at maintaining a poker face. John sipped on the mug you handed him, but his eyes didn’t flutter shut like they normally did as he drank.

❝I made brunch for you,❞ you reply, an ever-innocent smile on your face. It was clear you really didn’t have any idea how seductive you looked. It wasn’t just some cleavage, the collar was open so much he didn’t need to use much of his imagination.

❝I see that.❞ John rasped, that cheeky smile appearing on his face. The one that usually followed a snarky remark—but he couldn’t spoil this now. Not with a day of work ahead of him, though he had an almost remarkable amount of self-restraint.

To sneak another look, he approached from the side, kissing your head. One where he allowed himself to ogle down your shirt. ❝You look gorgeous today.❞ He mumbled against your hair, then retreated from the kitchen.

Sure, it had a double meaning for later. But right now? He would have something to look forward to as he got through his stacks of paperwork.

Simon

❝I’m headed out.❞ You said from the entrance hall, scooping up your bag and keys. You were going out with a friend, perhaps to get dinner or do some shopping. After that heated dressing session this morning, how you’ve left your shirt, you’re definitely buying a larger one.

Simon’s back was visible as he sat on the sofa, barely turning his head when you announced your departure. You swore you could hear him mutter an “mhm” but other than that, he only nodded his head.

Then, you remembered. You walked towards the living room, close enough for your outfit to be in sight. You thought nothing of the way you looked. In fact, you just thought it was a slightly revealing outfit, nothing else. ❝Don’t forget, your uniform is in the laundry room.❞

Though it was impossible to see on your end, Simon’s eyes were scanning the way you’d dressed yourself. He shifted in his seat a bit, nodding at your reminder—though it had flown right past him upon seeing your protruding chest.

You walked away, no other words exchanged. To you, it was just an average conversation with him; dry and reserved, despite how strong your relationship had gotten. You just learned to accept it, because a man like Simon wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t want to.

—

Lunch with friends had just finished, as well as about an hour of shopping. Unbeknownst to you, Simon had tailed you the whole time, sneakily and with laser focus. Yes, he had your location on his phone. Yes, he trusted you not to get yourself into trouble. But his paranoia got the better of him, especially seeing you dressed so revealingly.

He lacked trust with strangers, not you—his fear of you finding someone better took years to get over.

You walked out to the parking lot of the mall, a few shopping bags in hand. Then, you spotted him leaning against your car, balaclava rolled up and a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. ❝You stalking me now, babe?❞ You approached him, never sure what to expect from him.

When he saw you, his position blocking your car door didn’t change, his eyes did. He stared down at your chest again, then met your eyes. ❝Did you enjoy yourself? How about the mocha latte?❞

His words made your eyes widen slightly. The bastard was even behind you in line at Starbucks, and you hadn’t noticed? His stealth was both impressive and bone-chilling. Your silence made his brows furrow under his mask, urging him to step a bit closer. ❝Relax. I’m not bein’ a prick. Was just worried about you being out.❞

Simon would never say why, or the awful scenarios he’d convinced himself of. He would’ve done it with or without you wearing the revealing outfit. All your clueless self needed to know was that you were protected.

Soap

God, what was taking you so long?

❝Film starts at 4:30, lass. It’s 4:15.❞ He said through the door, tapping his foot against the floor. Soap looked down at his watch, waiting outside the bathroom for you to finish getting dressed. You were taking longer than usual, though he hadn’t imagined it was because your boobs kept popping out of your shirt.

Upon hearing your gasps and groans of frustration, then the sound of clothing fabric shuffling, he furrowed a brow in concern. ❝Everything alright?❞

You swung open the door, slightly out of breath from your struggle with the button-up. ❝Yeah, let’s get going.❞ Let’s just say the beam on your face, it was the second thing he noticed. Your cleavage was on full display, only half the buttons fastened. Soap’s eyes glossed over a bit, expecting some sort of tease from your lips, but you were oblivious.

He had to take a few steps back, his expression dropping into a sneer. ❝You have the slightest clue what you’re doin’, bonnie? Those are gonna catch some stares…❞ As possessive as his words sounded, they weren’t preventing you from going out like that. What creeper in their right mind would try anything with him at your side? Next to none.

❝I couldn’t get the shirt buttoned,❞ your lips tightened into a pout, expecting him to ask you to change, or something to that effect—though he wasn’t the type.

However, he just smirked, lips pursing cockily. ❝Might even try to touch you. That’s before they lose their hands, though.❞ Soap winked, draping an arm around your shoulders as he led you to the front door.

As he snaked his arm around your shoulder, he snuck in a grope, one that was followed by a flushed expression on both your faces. He chuckled at the coy look on your face as if you weren’t dating the biggest flirt. ❝What? These are mine, lass. I’m allowed to touch.❞

Gaz

The heat was sweltering and unforgiving—especially in the prime of the afternoon.

You opened up all the curtains, allowing yourself to sunbathe as you moved about the house, but without leaving the comfort of the AC. The natural light gave your shared living room a warm, homey feel. The front door shut—he had gotten back from his daily run.

❝Felt like a bloody melting ice pop out there,❞ Kyle grunted as he went straight to the kitchen, pressing a chilled bottled water to his sweating head. When his eyes opened, he saw the shirt you had on for the first time that day.

Kyle not-so-subtly checked you out as you fanned yourself with a magazine. The shirt, already tight enough, was even tighter as the heat made you pant. And the dribble of sweat running down your exposed cleavage? What a sight to him. ❝Is there something on my face?❞ You questioned with a senseless giggle.

He had traveled across the kitchen at the speed of light, a hungry kiss on your lips. He pulled away for air, ❝you’ll be the death of me before the Sun is, love.❞ One hand pushed a sweaty strand of hair away, while the other tugged at the opening of the shirt playfully.

You knitted your brows while biting down on your now saliva-soaked lips, ❝aren’t you tired from your run?❞ Besides, he typically wasn’t that forward. You wondered if the heat really got to him, having no clue how aroused your chest made him.

❝Not anymore.❞

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powerfultenderness · 10 months

Note

lord powerfultenderness, I don't know how to fully picture it but can we have neighbor könig doing grocery shopping with y/n? Please!~

I swear I saw a post somewhere that said König probably makes bank. And Sugar Daddy König hc born/accepted. This man will spoil you if you give him the chance (and then idk wreck you later?)

Either you were oblivious to the looks strangers gave you, to the way women quickly turned around and went down different aisles, or you didn’t care. It was, in fact, the latter. This big menacing looking guy beside you practically cleared a path wherever you wanted. Busy aisles you’d normally have to do trick maneuvers with your cart? Cleared out when he looked at other shoppers. It was amazing, really.

You stopped and looked up at the shelf, the item you wanted on the very top and if you stretched out…you still couldn’t reach it. Even before you could pout and try again, König reached over and plucked the box of snacks off the shelf and dropped in the basket.

Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled a bit, but you could tell he was smiling at you. “Those are car snacks.”

“Car snacks?”

You nodded and continued to push the cart down the aisle. You’d deviated from your shopping list so much that you were now just going up and down aisles to see if there was anything you needed.

“You know, snacks you keep in the car for emergencies. Like, getting stuck in traffic, or on the side of the road while waiting for a tow truck…or lost…”

“How often do you get lost?” He laughed, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his laugh at a reasonable indoor level.

“It was just the one time! My GPS wasn’t working!” It wasn’t your fault downtown was an impossible maze!

“What did you do?”

“I had a snack and figured it out.” You gave up and went home, but he didn’t need to know that.

Though he could probably guess with the way he was side eyeing you. You knocked your hip into his side (and he didn’t budge at all!) “What do you say to pasta for dinner?”

He titled his head, “you’re making dinner for me?”

“Yea, I want to do something nice for you for helping me out.”

König beamed at you, though you couldn’t see behind his mask and you were currently looking at one of the shelves. “I will eat whatever you cook.”

You laughed, it sounded so weird when he said it like that. “Alright, pasta it is.”

On the way to the checkout, you happened upon a display of clothing, mostly blouses and tee shirts, but some printed leggings as well. “Ooh, that’s cute.” You stopped and picked up a strappy sundress printed with your favorite flowers. “And my size!” You cheered to yourself as you looked at the tag. You flipped it over to check the price tag then set the dress back on the rack. “Pssh, not that cute.”

You looked at him just as he turned away from the dress you liked. “Hey, can you wait in line while I run and get my prescription?”

He nodded and took over pushing the cart as you handed him your debit card, “just in case it takes too long.”

It was a good thing you handed him your card too! There was a bit of wait while your prescription was transferred to the new in store pharmacy. You half debated whether or not you should just leave to pick it up another day, but you already missed a day and didn’t want to throw off the effects.

By the time you had your medication, König was waiting for you out front. “Sorry about that!”

He shook his head, “no problem.” And handed you the receipt and your card back.

You giggled as he loaded the bags in almost one scoop into the back of his truck. Your car was currently in the shop and he very quickly offered to help you out in the meantime.

“Thank you so much!” You smiled at him once all of the groceries were sitting on your counter.

“Anytime.” He answered simply.

“Still up for dinner tonight?”

He nodded, “of course.”

The little short answers, no hearty laugh included, were weird. But maybe he just had enough company for a few hours. “Alright, I’ll pop over later then?”

“Goodbye.” He nodded again and quickly left you alone.

Weird…

Whatever. Maybe he’ll feel better once he…oh!

You pulled out one of the very dresses you thought was cute, but too expensive, from one of the bags. König’s doing? You checked the receipt and it wasn’t listed. He…bought it himself? And hid it from you? Suddenly the way he was acting nervous before he left made sense.

König’s stomach flipped and his face burned when he opened the door later that night. You were standing in front of him wearing the dress he bought. “You look like an angel.”

You smiled and spun around, the dress flaring cutely as you did so. “I can’t believe you bought this! Thank you so much! But, let me repay you?”

“No. Have dinner with me?”

You giggled, you were already having dinner with him! “You sneaky man! Come on, let’s go!” You then grabbed one of his hands and started to pull him out and towards your flat.

“Wait. Let me lock up.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and locked the door with one hand, refusing to pull out of your touch.

“Oh. right!”

“You didn’t lock up, did you?”

“What! It’s just right there!”

König was laughing again as he followed you to your home, a dopey smile you couldn’t see lighting his eyes

[More neighbor König]

#anonymous #könig x reader #konig x reader #neighbor!könig #könig x fem reader #blurb #her prescription was birth control loloolll you cant be running out of that with him around #and idk the stores around here have clothing/electronic/toy sections so i hope this doesn't sound too weird

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javarium · 5 months

Text

christmas overload | g. satoru

prompt 3 — “It’s our baby’s first Christmas. I don’t think they’re going to remember you buying them all of these stuffies.”

requested by anon: pleaseee bless us with gojo and christmas prompt 3 pleaseeeee

[ Christmas Prompt List ]

[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]

“I know you have money out the ass, Satoru, but was this really necessary?”

“Absolutely.”

The man looks 100% confident, not an ounce of shame written across his face. In fact, he looks like he’s never been more happy with himself, ego ballooned farther than even you thought was possible.

Underneath the multicolored lights of the ten foot Christmas tree are stuffies galore. You note that there are several dozen more presents under the tree than there were before you’d taken a nap, but those seemed to be nothing compared to all of the stuffed animals and plushies surrounding the tree and taking up so much space in the living room.

Your 6’3 husband stands proudly before said tree, hands on his hips dramatically with a fat smile on his face.

“You think Satsuki will like it?” Satoru asks.

“I think she’s going to go crazy over it,” you answer. And Satoru’s grin gets impossibly bigger, simple on full display. But then you add something else to the sentence, making his happy smile plummet. “But she’s only eight months, Satoru. I don’t think she’s going to remember you buying all of these stuffies and presents.”

Satoru’s shoulders slump. He knows that you’re right; she’s too little, too tiny to remember her overexcited Daddy spoiling her on her very first Christmas.

Guilt courses through you at the sound of a sad sniffle coming from him. Satoru’s large body sits next to yours on the couch, leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I just wanted her first Christmas to be special,” he mutters.

“And it is, baby,” you say. You rub his back in comfort. “She’ll know her daddy tried to spoil her on her first Christmas, she just… won’t remember. Not this year.”

His cheeks puff out as he huffs. He looks at you with shiny eyes, laced with what you know to be disappointment, and asks, “Are you sure she won’t remember?”

“Unless she’s got some unreal ability to remember this right now that we don’t know about, I’d say so,” you reply. “But it’s not like there won’t be pictures for her to remember later in life.”

“That’s true, but I want her to remember them now!” he whines childishly.

“Sorry to disappoint, babe.” You ruffle his hair. “That’s just the way it is. Give it a few years and then you’ll get what you want.”

Satoru sighs and leans back against the back of the couch. He covers his eyes with his arm dramatically. “I guess.”

And then the doorbell suddenly rings, making you jump. You weren’t expecting anyone today, so who in the world was at the front door?

Cries fill the air. No doubt the doorbell woke up your eight-month-old daughter.

Satoru stands. “You get Satsuki, I’ll get the door.”

You head toward the nursery, opening the ajar door to find your precious girl awake and upset with tears and snot running down her face. Her wails turn to soft cries as her pretty blue eyes that match her daddy’s meet your own. You slide your hands under her back and head and lift her to your chest. Her soft cries turn to soft sniffles as she snuggles her head into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay, ‘Suki. I know the doorbell scared you,” you soothe her, rubbing her back up and down gently. “Sorry, sorry. Come on, let’s go see your papa. He’ll protect you, won’t he?”

Satsuki sniffles and nods, snuggling impossibly closer into your hold like she’s agreeing with you.

You head back into the living room, only for your mouth to drop to the floor.

Beside the Christmas tree, on either side, was a massive plush Baymax and a gigantic teddy bear just as big. Resting against the front door is a stuffed reindeer that’s almost as big, its big fat red nose showing that its Rudolph.

Satoru looks at you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head.

“Too much?”

You nod, mouth still ajar. “Too much.”

But your baby girl doesn’t think so. She immediately starts clapping and reaching for the giant teddy bear that’s closest to her out of the three.

Satoru’s sheepish grin turns into one of absolute enthusiasm and love at the sight of his baby reaching for one of the presents he’s gotten her. He practically skips over to you and scoops up the white-haired princess.

“Did Daddy do a good job? You like the presents Daddy got you, my little Princess Mochi?”

The gleeful energy from the two combined is absolutely infectious. You laugh as Satoru spins his eight-month-old daughter through the air, bubbly shrieks of delight escaping her lips.

Yeah, you’d tell Satoru she had some sort of ability to remember her first Christmas, just to keep the smile on his face.

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut @heresan @4sat0ruu @nayrring @missmuffinr @itzmeme @torusmochi

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #jjk fluff #Christmas Event 2023 🍪

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luvyeni · 8 months

Note

hellooo i just wanna request a public lake sex with sungchan because he's vid with anton and wonbin on the lake is always on my fyp and IN MY MIND FOR DAYS damn it was worth it for sungchan living in the gym😩

❛LAKE SIDE❜ (j. sungchan)

p. jung sungchan x fem!reader w. 0.6k

warnings? public sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cumming inside

— 𖦹 ( fucking sungchan in the lake on vacation ) !

"i want to go in the lake." sungchan looked up from his phone as you made your way into the livingroom in the cabin you guys were staying in, almost choking on his tongue at your attire — short shorts , unbuttoned revealing the top park of your bikini bottoms , and you didn't even bother to put on a top , your bikini top barely covering your bust.

"we went this morning , i told you to get up , you're the one who slept in." shotaro said. "because who gots up at 10 am to go swimming?" you rolled your eyes at your brother. "and who has to go to the lake by themselves." you kissed your teeth. "asshole." you pouted , sungchan quickly spoke up before you turned to go back to your room. "i'll go with you."

"really?" your eyes lit up with excitement. "see out of all my brothers friends , this is why i like you the most." you turned on your feet , skipping back to your room to grab your things , ignoring the gasp from the others in the room.

"you didn't have to do that , she so spoiled already , no one ever says no to her." shotaro said , sunghoon shrugged. "it's fine , i don't mind." eunseok scoffed. "that's because he finds your sister hot." sungchan tossed the pillow at his friends head. "shut up."

eunseok wasn't wrong , he did find you incredibly attractive , he had so since he met you almost 4 years ago — that just wasn't something he didn't want his friend to know. "ew , i don't need to know that." shotaro's face curled up in disgust. "that is none of my business."

you soon returned with your things , sungchan waiting for you at the door. "you ready?" you noodded , sliding your shoes on. "let's go." you guys said your goodbyes , leaving the house.

the lake was a short walk from the house , so you both spent the time talking and joking around. you made your way to the dock sitting your towel down , kicking your shoes off. he tried his best to keep his cock from getting hard as you strip down to your bikini. "you coming in?"

he nodded , coughing awkwardly as he took his shirt off , throwing it down next to your towel. "look who's been in the gym." he blushed as you so nonchalantly eyed his abs up and down. "i-i guess." you chuckled , grabbing his hand. "let's jump in together."

he clutched your hand as you both jumped into the cold lake water , you squealed at the shock. "it's cold!" he laughed , wiping the water from his eyes. "it will get warmer , give it a moment." you nodded , swimming around him , his eyes following closely as you swam on your back.

you were aware he was staring , you always were because he never tried to be discreet , it was so cute. you were so happy when he offered to go with you , and it would just be you too , so no one would bother you. "you know , you stare alot."

his ears where red , you had caught him. "i'm sorry." he said , you probably thought he was a creep now. "don't apologize , i like it." his eyes widened. "you do?" you hummed , swimming closer to him. "of course i do , i wouldn't have been so excited when you agreed to come with me."

"you were excited?" you could hear the confidence in his voice increase. "of course , you're always avoiding me." you pouted , cocking your head to the side. having enough of the teasing , he grabbed your hand , pulling you close , bodies pressing together. "that's because it's hard to resist you." he said. "it's impossible to not get hard around you when you're constantly walking around the house in those short shorts." he whispered against your ear , kissing it. "s-sungchan."

the way you said his name , made him loose all composure , smashing his lips against yours — your hand trailed down his abs , fiddling with the waistband of his swim trunks , the act alone had his cock hardening.

he pulled away , his forehead pressed against yours , heavily as you grabbed his cock in his hand , running your fingers over the tip. "o-oh fuck." he groaned , holding you tighter as you jerked his cock. "you're so big." you squeezed the base. "i want you inside me."

he groaned at your words , he felt like this was a dream. the girl he lusted over for 4 years , was currently jerking him off , the lake water was clear enough for him to get a good look. "sungchan." you whined , "please touch me."

he left little kisses on your neck , moving your bikini top to the side , running his finger over your exposed nipple. "fu-fuck." you squeezed the base once again. "sh-shit baby , if you keep doing that , im gonna cum." he grunted , pinching your nipple. "wanna fuck you first."

you removed your hands from his shorts , he grabbed the back of your thighs , wrapping your legs around his waist , the water resting right below your belly button as he pulled his shorts down enough to free his cock , fucking it against your cunt , you whined. "su-sungchan please fuck me." you whined , he tsked. "so eager baby." he smirked , as he eased you down on his cock. "so-so tight."

he held you by the waist , moving you up and down on his cock. "you don't know -fuck- don't know how long i've been waiting to fuck you." he grunted , "tried my best." you were moaning so loud , you were glad that you were alone , because they definitely would have heard.

"fuck , you don't know how many times i wanted to bend you over your kitchen sink and fuck you everytime you pranced around in those tiny fucking shorts." he fucked up into faster. "then you invite me out here in this tiny ass bikini , it's like you wanted me to fuck you. didn't you?"

"y-yes fuck!" you moaned. "pl-please , m'gonna cum." he could feel you clenching around him , your tight cunt , squeezing him. "fu-fuck me too , im not wearing a condom." he would've brought you some had he known. "don't care , -shit- want you inside." he almost came right then in there.

"sungchan im cumming!" you clenched tightly around him. "that's it , cum for me." he stimulated your nipples furthering your orgasm. "fu-fuck princess im gonna cum -shit- im cumming !" he cursed , his cum painting your insides white. "fu-fuck you're so perfect." he groaned , emptying himself inside you.

he smiled , holding you in his arms, both of you used to water , it felt good against your skin. "what do we tell your brother?" you played with the hair on the back of his neck. "nothing." you said. "nothing?" you hummed. "it's none of his business , we're adults no? i don't ask who he's seeing." you kissed his lips. "i guess so."

"well then he shouldn't ask me who im seeing."

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan smut #sungchan imagines #riize scenarios

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siscon-stsg · 3 days

Note

could you write a scenario about gojo fucking his sweet little virgin and innocent sister. When he looked so long her cunt, she blushed and said;

Nii-chan, p-please don't look at it

I love your writings <3

(CW: incest, innocent and virgin reader, my bad writing and not beta'd, satoruniichan being manipulative cuz yeah that's him. name-calling. oral (f receiving). corruption. degradation if you squint i guess? finger-sucking. cliff hanger cuz i'm evil)

THANK YOU PRETTY BABY YOU'RE THE BESTTT!!! i'm kissing you on the mouth mmmmmmwah c'mere. i suck at writing full pieces, haven't done it in literal AGES, but i did my best for you!! so sorry if it sucks!! my brain hurts i am not used to thinking for long periods of time. /j

satoru's eyes were impossible to escape from. he'd always make you feel naked under his gaze, like two stars sucking the light out of the night sky.

but now they gazed down at you with such hunger it was almost threatening.

“hmmm,” he hummed with a grin, long fingers tracing aimless patterns all over your wet cunny; “don' close y'r legs, pretty. don' ya wanna make your big bro happy?”

and that only made you whimper more. what was so entertaining about this? you struggled not to close your thighs around his pretty head of white hair. “niichan! don't look!”

your parents could be home any minute! what would they say if they saw you like that? knees to your chest on the living room couch, satoru inspecting you down there like he was eyeing a ring at a jewelry store!

he played with your puffy lips, rubbing them up an down. he pulled down the hood around your clit, he stretched your entrance to the sides with both thumbs; only to laugh at the sticky trails of pussy juice drooling down from it.

“why not?” satoru had to laugh at you. some nerve you had to complain, really, when your little pussy was drenched and pulsing, so far untouched. he spat on you, spreading it around your pink flesh with a thumb, and smirked when it got you all squirmy.

“c'mon, be good 'n stay still”. a firm, steadying hand pressed down on your tummy. “y're more than old 'nough to still be a virgin, y'know? i'd be embarrassed if i were you”.

was that true? was not having sex at your age that bad?

satoruniichan always had so many friends, did so much better in school than you, was always dating one girl or another... he'd know about that sort of thing, right?

after all, you were always picked on for being the prune little sister. your parents never approved of any boy you had a crush on, and being a good daughter you never went against their wishes.

satoru caught on your dilemma quick. he leaned in close, blowing his hot, tickly breath teasingly over your clit. “wan' big bro to change that?”

“change w-what? hm!” you moaned. this time you couldn't stop your thighs from closing when satoru's lips sucked on your clitty, slurping loudly until you cried out.

“pop y'r cherry, dummy,” your big bro chuckled. “that way, y' won' be so pathetic anymore”.

the name stung, “pathetic”. tho you could barely think about that with satoru loudly licking, slurping, kissing, burying his face into your pussy. nose into your clit, and purring. arms hugging your hips so you can't escape his hungry stimulation.

you couldn't even think, only moan and shiver. were big brothers even supposed to do this sort of thing to their little sisters? but then again, it felt so good!

satoru pulled back with your clitty slurped between your lips, giddy for the cute cries you let out. “'nd?” he said, voice much deeper and husky than before.

“c'monnn, say yes!” his cheeks puffed up and satoru pouted, like a spoiled child begging for candy. only that this “child” was rubbing your clit in tight frenzied circles with his thumb, not slowing down even as you trashed and squirmed and whimpered. satoru dove tongue first into your soppy hole, muffling his words in your sloshy muscles: “d'y' wanth t' be p'thethic 'll y'r lwife 'r noth?”

“n-niichan!” is all you could say, or cry. your muscles were stiffing up, specially down your belly. satoru seemed impatient, because his tongue swiftly exchanged placed with two long, too long fingers that crooked inside your virgin pussy. he felt around, until finding your gummy, sensitive little walls.

he thrusted and thrusted from his wrist at a sadistic pace, laughing at you and at your slutty teary face. you were going to be such a whore, he just knew. “wanna cum, huh? my pretty sluts wan's to cum?”

“y-yeees!”

your clit felt on fire under his slimy tongue. your walls were spasming, pussy crying as much as your eyes and it was like your body was made of jelly. you shivered and cried, and when your back arched, hips bucking against his hand, your eyes saw heaven and stars twinkled behind your eyelids and

satoru stopped.

“noooo! no! why'd you sto- mmph!” his slick fingers stopped your whining by thrusting down your throat. you almost gagged, throat and pussy convulsing in synch.

the albino sat back on his heels without pulling back from your mouth; one hand fumbling with his sweatpants until it came out springing. angry red, leaky, pulsing, and he rubbed the tip of his dick a couple times against your slit with a deep grunt.

“didn't give ya permission t' cum, did i? now open up f'my cock, slut”

#tw.incest #tw incest #dd:dne #big bro/little sis #big bro gojo #tw.dark content #dead dove do not eat #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #tw dark content #this was one of those stories that literally wrote itself #i just put my pussy on the keyboard and this came out sorry

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suzukiblu · 7 months

Note

WIP guessing game: help

"I know about Billy, Marvel," Batman says, and Billy . . . blinks.

"You know?!" he sputters. Okay, so apparently his secret identity was just . . . literally never a secret at all, then. Which, well–Batman, so that just figures, really. So actually this is kind of a relief and might even mean that he's fine with–

"Yes," Batman confirms with a nod. "So I understand your current reservations about parenthood."

. . . wait what.

"Huh?" Billy says, blinking stupidly at him.

"I don't know how much of you is still C.C. Batson or what you do or don't remember about being him," Batman says. "But the resemblance is undeniable, if nothing else. Certainly your and your wife's deaths were . . . well, suspicious. And you're hardly the first archeologists to dig up a god or six."

Oh, okay. Well.

This is apparently what Billy gets for his personal mental image of a "hero" being his dad, then, isn't it.

Crap.

"To be honest I've been looking for Billy for a while now, I just didn't want to bring it up before I found him," Batman admits, looking dissatisfied with himself. "My most recent reliable intel puts him in Fawcett City, but I assume you're aware of that, given your evident attachment to the place."

"You're looking for Billy?" Billy asks incredulously. "Why?"

"Because he's your son," Batman says. "And because he's a homeless child who's been abused and neglected and needs help. I honestly don't know where you go when you're not being Captain Marvel–frankly I'm not sure if you even exist when you're not being Captain Marvel, given what little I actually know about your powers and your death and your role as the Champion of Magic and just how damn impossible you are to find when you're off-duty–but I'm assuming that wherever it happens to be is not necessarily conducive to providing a stable home environment and being legally dead certainly can't be helping with that, so my original intention was to find the boy and help you arrange some manner of care for and visitation with him. And given the revelation of your relation to Robin, well . . . I'd like to take Billy in myself, if you'd both be comfortable with that. It seems . . . appropriate, under the circumstances."

"You want to foster Billy because I'm Robin's soulmate?" Billy says, absolutely positive that he's misunderstood literally every single word that just came out of Batman's mouth. There is no possible way that he did not.

"It's not exactly out of my wheelhouse," Batman replies wryly. "Although I'll be keeping this one out of the tights, ideally. Though I make no long-term promises about that because quite frankly at this point I'm spoiled for soulmates who insist on wearing capes and I wouldn't really be surprised to turn up another one, especially given that Robin is yours and your own involvement in the superhero community."

Billy stares at him.

"Wait, are all the Gotham vigilantes your soulkids?" he blurts unthinkingly.

"Not all," Batman says. "But, well . . . probably more of them than you'd expect."

"Oh my god," Billy says in disbelief. "And you're just telling me that?! You don't tell people things, you're Batman!"

"I haven't always been the father I should have been," Batman says, and then he pulls down his cowl. Billy chokes, and then chokes again because apparently Batman is Bruce freaking Wayne and his brain just . . . just needs a moment to process that fact, like there is literally any way whatsoever that he could ever actually process that fact. He would've been less surprised to see a Kardashian under that mask, he's pretty sure. At least they've got athletes in the family, technically! "So I'm not going to make things difficult for you with Robin. Clearly he needs more than I'm capable of providing, and I'm perfectly willing to be transparent and to co-parent with you as much as possible. I want Robin to be safe and content and grow up well, and frankly put, Batson, you've proven yourself to be a good man time and again and I trust you to do what's best by our son."

Okay, well, now Billy just feels like dirt.

"You do know what happened to Billy, don't you?" he asks just a little bit desperately, because there is literally no way that this conversation is a real and actual thing that's really and actually happening. "Like, just–everything that happened there? There's a reason he's not in school or the system or with a relative or anything like that."

"What happened to Billy wasn't your fault," Batman tells him, meeting his eyes all quiet and intent and sincere. "And I will do everything in my power to help you make it right."

"Oh no, you're actually like . . . just genuinely a really good person, aren't you," Billy says despairingly, staring at him all over again and really, really wishing he could swear right now.

Maybe he'll just go throw himself into the sun. Maybe that's what he'll just go and do.

The corner of Batman's mouth quirks up wryly. His eyes even crinkle a little, which Billy can see on account of his total lack of cowl right now, oh god.

Billy despairs.

"I mean it," Batman says gently. "It wasn't your fault, and it doesn't mean you can't be a good father now."

"I need to talk to Robin," Billy says, because he definitely, definitely needs to talk to Robin. Batman inclines his head in an accepting nod, because Batman is probably under the impression that Billy wants to go give Robin a good ol' traditional "I know I'm not your biodad but I'm here for you, champ!" kind of speech, and Billy just . . . really cannot explain the real situation to him right now. Or ever.

Can he just lie to Batman for the rest of their lives, maybe? He can just pretend to be his own dad for the Justice League and keep dodging whatever Bat-surveillance happens to be in Fawcett and parent his older-than-he-is soulmate, right? That's a thing that he can do?

That's probably not a thing that he can do.

Although he might be willing to try, at this point.

#billy batson #bruce wayne #shazam #batman #chromatographic #rinfic #wip: billy and damian and the whole soulmate thing

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