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azsazz · 24 days ago

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Evening Roost

ACOTAR Omegaverse Week Day 1: Cassian x Reader [Nesting]

Summary: This was supposed to be for omegaverse x acotar day 1 but now it just is. Prompt was: Surely there’s a perfectly normal, completely unsuspicious reason they’re feeling an irresistible urge to arrange and rearrange the blankets and pillows…. right?

Anon Req: for omegaverse day 1, I could so see reader spending AGES every year to make a nest, only for cassian to destroy it within like two minutes every heat cycle bc he's too distracted by his mate and excited to pay attention to little things like that ... and one year reader gets mad and is like "you're not f*cking me in here until you're not a threat to its structural integrity" and cassian is very regretful & apologizes & makes it up to her by making her cum until she can't think straight ...? (if you don't like this prompt feel free to ignore it this was just an idea ... also I'm a big fan of your work & I'm excited you're writing more!!) 🩷🩷

And also fulfills anon reqs : Not sure if you’re taking requests but could you write an omega/alpha fic with Cassian where reader is in heat? Love your writing! —and—Heyyyy! Once your requests might be free, can you do a Omegaverse heat fic but with Cassian, something with both angst and some spicy smut?

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2640

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“And…perfect,” you sigh, smiling contently to yourself as you shift the last pillow into place. Sitting back on your haunches, you admire the nest you spent the entirety of the week building, piled high and far away from where anyone can see it. Or touch it.

Namely, your mate.

Yes, Cassian is everything you want in an alpha and more: muscle upon muscle that he uses unabashedly to carry you around, to throw you over his shoulder when you’re pouting and grumbling when you should really be riding his cock. Or when he smacks your ass with that rough, calloused hand of his, the one you’d like stuck right between your legs right now.

You shift, biting your lip as you rub your thighs together, eliciting a sensation you know all too well, a flood of warmth pooling deeply between them.

Your heat has been building for a few days now, as if waiting for the perfect moment to appear. Your body must have sensed that Cassian’s rut was on its way as well, forcing your body to respond to your alpha’s scent. You’ve been feeling the familiar discomfort of your oncoming cycle, irritable to anyone who wasn’t Cassian, sensitive to sounds and smells, especially blood, and feeling like your body is always just a little bit too hot.

Which is why you’ve been patiently awaiting the other paw to drop, busying yourself by building the perfect nest. It has taken careful meandering and pawning of objects from throughout your home: a cord of leather that Cassian had taken out of his damp hair before climbing into the tub with you last night, the worn scabbard of one of his knives, a day old shirt that hadn’t been used for sparring, and another one that had.

In the corner of your closet, you sit, burrowing deeply into the fabrics and reveling in the scents of your mate. The mead he drank until he was dizzy still lingers from where he’d sweat it out the night after. The lingering scent of his soap, brash and heady and all male. The faint tinge of your juices from where they’d gotten on the sheets, the ones you hadn’t allowed anyone to clean, to touch when he fucked you into them two nights prior.

It feels like a secret, you think as you smile into the dark. All the way at the back of the expansive closet, nestled between hanging clothes and boots, nestled beside training boots and hidden weapons should you ever need them. It’s the perfect place, the perfect size for someone like you, an omega blissfully waiting for her alpha to fall into the throes of his rut.

“Little omega,” Cassian sing-songs. You hear the door to your bedroom opening and closing with a quick snap and your anticipation spikes. The heat between your thighs grows as your body goes hot. There’s a keen alertness to his voice that makes your stomach fill with butterflies, your cunt drench with need.

His rut is here.

“Where are you?” He wonders aloud, and a bolt of thrill zips up your spine at the thought of this game you have the chance to play. Hunter and prey. How he’s going to sniff you out like the depraved man he is, capture you and bend you over this pile of goods to take you long and hard and hot, just the way you both need. You know that within minutes you’ll be succumbing to the full effects of your heat, your body attuned so beautifully to his rut.

You eagerly await your mate's arrival.

You can hear it the moment he catches a whiff of your scent. The low growl has you clenching your thighs, sending your heartbeat galloping. What follows is what makes you want to moan, to give your spot away to him, to bare yourself to your alpha and have him claim you over and over and over again.

The bite mark on your throat pulses as the sound of his belt hits the floor, his weapons soon following. The dull thud of their sheaths are each a throb to your clit. You don’t need to imagine how perfect his body moves as he prowls closer to the door, already knowing that each muscle of his is coiled tight with the same anticipation you’re feeling. It zips down the bond, flooding your body with a pleasurable feeling.

The closet door cracks wider and you only get a glimpse of those hazel eyes—all pupils with the untamed actions of a rut—before he lunges inside.

It’s tight with the both of you in here. Cassian’s fingers claw at your clothes, and it’s not a tear that can be sewed up like new to be worn another day. No, this is Cassian shredding your clothes into strips, buttons flying off of fabric and clicking against the walls. It’s the delicate lace of your panties he tears off with his teeth, wrapping the remnants around his wrist like he’s won himself a new bracelet. You love that he’s so desperate for you, but he’s being careless, dislodging items in your nest that were perfectly built while he scrambles to expose your body, more than ready to ravage you for this week-long cycle.

You cry out at the feeling of Cassian’s sharp teeth nipping at your shoulder when you try to shove him off. You’re all too aware of how he’s displacing your pristine nest, the one you hadn’t hardly wanted him in in the first place because of this very reason.

He always destroys it.

“Cassian!” You shout, and only then does it seem to cut through the haze he’s already giving into. He pulls back quicker than an asp, fear a dark ring around his eyes as he stares down at you.

“Did I hurt you, mate?” He questions, frantically looking you over. His fingers trace your skin and your body buzzes in response. But as you look at your nest, now a mere mess of twisted blankets and skewed knick-knacks, your heart plummets and your brows draw together, your eyes prickling with tears.

“No, you didn’t hurt me physically,” you say, throat tight. Cassian frowns, not quite understanding until you gesture to the mess around you. “I know what it’s like to submit to the rut grating through your bones right now,” you speak quietly, enough for him to grasp your feelings. “But you wreck my nest every time you have a rut. Even during my heats. A burrow that is sacred to me, and should be to you too. It’s one of the only places I feel safe—” The other being in his arms. “—When I’m going through a heat. And I want you there, mate, I need you there, but not if you’re going to ruin my hard work.”

You watch the regret lance his eyes, but before he can say anything, you’re continuing, fighting through the wetness coating your throat, ignoring the wetness coating your thighs.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Cassian leans forward, caressing your cheek. You allow it, lean into it even, but you will not continue with this rut until you feel fully at peace and comfortable to do so. “Please, what can I do?”

“Fix it,” you murmur, almost helplessly. There’s a hollowness to your chest that may be heightened by the effects of your oncoming heat, but right now it feels like you’ve lost something greater than a pile of blankets. You’d feel embarrassed, almost, if you were more clear-minded. “You won’t be fucking me in here until you’re not a threat to its structural integrity.”

You watch Cassian’s throat bob, his cock twitch at your demands, a pretty pearl of precum making its presence known. You quirk an eyebrow, trying very carefully to keep your face stern, shoving back the teary sensations as you tear your gaze from the sight of his leaking cock.

He likes it when you make demands of him?

You tuck that thought away for later.

“Of course,” Cassian agrees vehemently, already reaching for the first blanket.

You shuffle out of the way. It’s difficult in the space of the closet, now that you’re trapped inside with your behemoth of an alpha who trapezes around as he begins his work. The air is hot and thick already, your forehead is dewey with sweat. You might be regretting building your nest in the closet sooner rather than later.

You find yourself wondering if you can convince Cassian to move the entire nest later, if he’ll make it just as perfect as this one.

“And Cassian?” You ask, waiting for him to turn. When you have his full attention, you allow your fingers to drift up your bare stomach to your peaked nipples, pinching and rubbing at them. Cassian growls in response and your cunt clenches at the sound. You nearly tell him to forget it and take you up against the racks of clothes instead. “For every item you perfectly fix, is the number of times we’re going to cum together.”

It’s a futile promise at best. Once the both of you succumb to your respective heat and rut, there will be no counting. There won’t be anything but the primal urge to fuck and breed, the both of you cumming more times than you could even imagine. There have been times when the lust was so consuming, you hardly remember anything besides the pleasure Cassian stoked into you, pumping you so full of his seed your stomach bloated with it. How he fucked you on his knot again and again until he fucked himself into a blacking out.

Your mate growls and nods eagerly. The breath whooshes out of his chest as he turns away, snatching a pillow that had fallen from the pile. You know that he’ll never get your nest back to how you had it, that he hadn’t taken a single glance at your work before crashing into it like a bull in a china shop, but you’re more distracted by the curve of that toned ass on display, his cock hanging heavy between those glorious thighs, dragging over one of the blankets and leaving a line of precum in its wake. You watch, entranced by his strong shoulders and wings, how they glide under his tan skin like butter.

“A little to the left,” you advise when Cassian turns to look at you after placing a discarded sheath in place, an expectant look on his face. You bite your lip to hold in the delightful purr that rages in your veins as he follows your command.

“Like this?”

“Perfect, mate,” you agree, taking one step closer. Your fingers smooth down your body, dipping between your legs because with the way he’s perched on his knees for you, you need some sort of stimulation or you’re going to pounce on him. Cassian’s eyes zero in on the movement, iris’ consumed by the black of his pupil. His nostrils flare at the scent leaking from your thighs.

Cassian begins to work even faster.

“Cassian?” You question when your body plunges right over the edge into want. Your heat slams into you full force, and all you crave is to be laid in that nest of yours, built by both of your hands, and give yourself to your alpha.

He hums, peeking over at you. He’s almost done, almost has it perfect, and then he’s going to be mounting you so fast that you won’t even know what hit you. His cock is leaking all over your nest, eager for your cunt to bury itself home in. All he can think about is how he hopes you don’t mind the mess he’s leaving behind while trying to clean up his other one.

Every muscle in his body reacts to the scent that’s emanating from you. His cock is thick and hard, swollen and ready. He’s going to knot you within the first two strokes, he can already feel it, can imagine the way your cunt will swallow him eagerly, milking him desperately, latching for a pup. He’ll make it up to you though, he can promise that, because Cassian has days and he can be a very inventive male when he wants to be.

When he blinks the haze from his eyes, pupils finally settling their attention on you, you breathe, “It’s great, alpha. But one thing is missing.”

Cassian frowns, his thick brows pulling tight in confusion. “What’s that, love?”

“It’s missing me.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. You shriek at his speed, the strength that he uses, wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you back into the nest.

You land with a breathless laugh that melts into a needy keen when Cassian splays your legs wide for him and licks a fat stripe up your cunt. You both shiver, you at the feeling of his wet tongue, and him at your taste.

“I won’t last,” he admits, but neither of you care when he pumps himself into you in one long stroke. Your body melts into the blankets and pillows beneath you, feeling so full. You could live like this forever, you think, Cassian’s cock buried deep inside of you, the warmth it provides, the pleasure, it’s all too much.

“Me…neither,” you pant, crying out when he hits your cervix. Fuck, he’s going to put a pup in you by the end of the week. Maybe a whole litter. You can feel it this time. “Fuck, Cassian! You feel so good!”

“You feel like heaven, mate,” he growls back. His breath is hot on your throat, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. It lights your body up like a star and your eyes roll into the back of your head, nails scratching down his back as the feeling builds. “You are my heaven. The stars in my sky and the breath in my lungs. You’re—fuck,” he chokes, quickening his thrusts. “You’re fucking mine.”

Cassian’s fingers slide between your bodies as he slams his mouth against yours. He’s devouring you in more ways than one, and when he starts circling his fingers against your throbbing clit—not too hard and not too soft, just fucking perfect like he always does, even when he’s lost in the throes of his heat—you cum.

You gush, even, and then Cassian’s cumming too, releasing with a growl that shakes the house built into the mountain. You wouldn’t be surprised if the noise causes a landslide.

He pulses inside of you, thick, hot ribbons of cum filling you. His knot grows with each pump, with each spurt, until you’re whimpering with overstimulation, writhing against his body. Cassian doesn’t let up, he’s still going, grinding down on you until there are tears in your eyes, until his incessant rubbing onto your clit turns from sensitive to all out wanting again. You chase that orgasm, jerking your hips against his until you’re drowning in the sensations of it again, until you’re drowning in the feeling of his cum stuffing you full.

Cassian watches you with rapt attention. Waits until you’ve calmed. Opened those pretty eyes. Then, does he cradle you in his arms and roll onto his back, letting you rest against his chest to catch your breath. He wipes the hair from your face, brushes the dampness across your forehead and kisses it tenderly, before dipping down to capture your lips sweetly. This is only the first of the orgasms you’ll both share, and it might not have lasted long, but it rocked your world entirely.

You blink up at him sleepily, moan a little when you feel his cock throb with another squirt of cum.

“Rest now, mate,” he says gently, and the rumble of his voice is a lullaby all its own. “I’ll be keeping you up for many nights to come.”

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #cass x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #a/b/o cassian #acotar a/b/o #azsazz a/b/o #acotar omegaverse #acotaromegaverse2024

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dekariosclan · 2 months ago

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Having watched Gale’s ‘Evil Ending’, read a few spicy takes, and thought about it for a bit, I just want to point something out: every time Gale has any interactions with the Heavens/Elysium/The Gods, be it in-game or as an alternate ending, it’s not good for him, and he’s never truly happy.

Of course the Evil ending is the most extreme version with him straight up hating the Gods and waging war, but in addition, there’s also:

Gale having suffered during his time in Elysium as Mystra’s plaything Chosen

Gale becoming God of Ambition, but losing his family/ Tav

Gale becoming God of Ambition and ascending Tav, but him still being insecure/unsatisfied with himself, and possibly destroying the Pantheon

Gale dying from attempting to be a God and failing to dethrone Mystra

Gale dying after following Mystra’s orders to detonate the orb (causing many to suffer if done in Act 2, the very thing Gale NEVER wanted to happen)

Gale becoming Illithid and then being taken to Elysium with Mystra, in a scene which has which has chemistry lower than the Mariana trench and is possibly the unsexiest thing I have ever seen

So, when people say that Gale should forgive Mystra, become her Chosen again (which is spoken about on the docks in the ending where he returns the Crown to Mystra), and that the Evil Ending shows this is a ‘good’ thing…I’m not seeing it.

In contrast, I could talk about the ending where he leaves the Crown in the river, the orb remains in his chest, and how that works out great—he’s not beholden to Mystra, he’s happy and satisfied with himself/Tav/his life which results in the orb being dormant, then later Mystra cures the damn thing permanently anyway, AND he gets to have a cool scar that keeps his students in check, and also definitely lights up when he’s horny for Tav, etc. etc.

But I’m gonna go one step further and talk about what happens when Gale goes to Hell. Yes, Hell. Literal, actual Hell, the farthest place from Heaven, which is what happens when he is romanced by origin Karlach and he goes with her to Avernus.

Remember how every iteration of Gale in Heaven results in him being unhappy in some way? Here’s Gale in Hell with his beloved Karlach:

He is happy as a clam!

Tara visits them frequently!

There’s even a f*cking bookstore!

In Conclusion:

If you want Gale to be truly happy, KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE GODS.

#Thanks for coming to my Ted talk!#all my homies hate mystra #Just give Gale what he needs to be happy: a bookstore and a kind lover who occasionally gets sweaty #That’s it #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x karlach #heatweave #bombsquad #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #galemance #gale x tav

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whimsyfinny · 10 months ago

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 1762

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

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I'm Not Your F*cking Maid

Please read Prologue before starting.

Chapter 1

I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.

“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”

“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:

“Who the fuck are you?”

He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.

“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.

“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.

“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;

“Three very strong coffees please.”

Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”

“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“

“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.

They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”

“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”

“Bobby Singer.”

The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.

“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”

“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”

“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.

“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.

“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.

“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.

“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.

The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.

“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”

“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.

“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”

For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.

The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.

“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.

“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.

Although he had it coming.

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Up Next

Chapter 2

#dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader

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sheisjoeschateau · 9 months ago

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve... | PART V

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: tw - major character death (?), attempted CPR, screaming, crying, strong language, trauma (so much f*cking trauma), regrets. 18+

***

When Steve watched you tumble off of the wall and down to the ground, he felt his entire world stop spinning.

It was as if he could literally see the surge of electricity that coursed through your veins, grappling onto your body before it repelled you off the fence.

You fell, landing flat on your back, and Steve knew that if you’d had any air left in your lungs that the fall alone had knocked the wind out of you.

And Steve felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Crouched at the top, just watching the nightmare unfold in front of his eyes.

“BAUMAN!!!!”

The scream that ripped from Steve’s lungs scared him more than he already was.

Jonathan, Eddie and Dustin all shouted your name in response. They rushed over to your body. Your way-too-still body.

Everyone completely freaked. Steve kept cursing and shouting, knees pressing into the concrete underneath where he was hunched over and gripping the edge. Every inch of him was shaking and ready to pounce off the top of that wall onto the ground. The walkie-talkie was going off still, and that only heightened everyone’s senses that were already in override.

Jonathan knew what Steve was debating, as he got closer to the ledge. “Steve, don’t move —”

“Fuck, FUCK.”

“DO NOT MOVE.”

“BAUMAN — ”

“STAY UP THERE. The box got — fuck, it got switched, fuck!”

Jonathan was frenzied. Sheer panic brought his voice up several octaves, to where he was just shrieking.

Eddie was almost shell-shocked next to Dustin, who was the most frightened that any of the guys had ever seen the kid. He clutched the walkie-talkie as it kept blasting off with Murray’s voice, shaking.

“Jonathan…” Dustin’s voice sounded so small, so terrified. Like he was suddenly six years old again.

Eddie went from reaching for you, to reaching out to Dustin. He was so conflicted, needing to help and not knowing how. The metalhead stuttered unintelligible words of fear.

And up on the ledge still, Steve raked his hands through his hair, throwing his head back to groan more curses to the sky.

This was hell. Absolute hell.

Here he was, stuck at the top, unable to do anything. Steve frivolously paced, tugging at his hair until the scalp burned.

“Group 2 to Group 4, do you copy?”

Steve felt bile rise up in his throat watching Jonathan’s fingers graze your neck, searching for a pulse. When it wasn’t there, he reached for your wrist. No sign of life… Jonathan looked sick. Turning to Eddie, who was staring at him — pale as a ghost — Jonathan’s voice shook.

“Lift her head,” Steve heard Jonathan croak. He was positioning himself over you, straightening you out on your back. He took his hands, pressing them to your chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, God no, please no. Steve heard himself saying it in his head, over and over. But when Eddie looked up at him, his eyes heartbroken, Steve realized it wasn’t in his head. Steve was saying it out loud.

“Group 4, this is group 2 – do you copy????”

Jonathan was telling Dustin, in as calm a voice as he could muster, how to help. And Dustin looked up at Steve, whimpering for him. But seeing his older brother-slash-mother-like figure at the top in complete dismay only made him want to cry more. Dustin was scared, he was so scared… Jonathan brought him back to focus.

“Hey, hey," Jonathan spoke to him gently, shakily. "Look at me. Look at me. Help me, alright?”

But Jonathan’s trembling voice was not reassuring at all. Dustin followed his lead, though. He kept his hands cupped underneath your head, your hair pooled around yourself on the ground.

Steve got a grip on himself for all of two seconds. Enough to at least speak to his kid, voice wrecked and his words rushed.

“Dustin, h-hang in there, kid, alright? It's okay. S'okay. Jonathan – y-you know CPR, yeah?”

Jonathan fervently nodded his head, getting to work.

The walkie-talkie was a chaotic clusterfuck of voices, begging for an answer. Murray. Erica. Hopper. Eleven. Lucas.

Eddie lost it, grabbing it from the ground and biting back a scream before he tried to tell them, not knowing how — “C-code red, code red, we — we . . .”

Your eyelids – glued shut – made Steve’s open eyes burn. Your lifeless chest, no sign of air, made the sound of his own breathing sound so loud it was jarring. He couldn’t breathe. He still had fucking oxygen in his lungs, yet he couldn’t breathe.

Steve just kept murmuring your name into his fist. His voice was low and unintelligible, as if he was speaking some twisted prayer out loud while he paced back and forth. He felt acid pricking at his eyes, blurring his vision. Steve swiped at my face, roughly rubbing his palm down his from forehead to chin.

Steve bit at his own cheek, willing the trembling to stop. Stop, damn it. Don’t make this real. It’s not real.

“God damn it,” Jonathan muttered.

“Keep going,” Steve barked down at Wheeler. It was meant to be a command but Steve’s voice was thick with emotion and he hated it. He watched every chest compression and every puff of air exhaled into your mouth and over your lips, wishing to God that it was his own lips crushing against yours. Because if it were him, he would give you no choice. You were stubborn as fuck, and no one needed to be easy on you. That wouldn’t work.

Murray was going berserk on the other side of the walkie, and so was Hopper.

“Where the hell is my niece, what’s going on?!?!”

Eddie was on the verge of a full blown panic attack, trying to get a word out and explain. For the love of God, how could he explain???

Dustin glanced up at Steve, and that was the worst thing he could’ve done. He was crying. Steve’s kid was fucking crying.

Fuck, this was real.

Steve’s body had never violently convulsed with shakes like this his entire life. Not when he first saw the demogorgon. Not when he came face to face with the demodogs. And not even in the Russian torture chamber.

He wanted to sob – but hell no, he couldn’t let himself. Not yet. Not fucking yet.

So Steve bit his cheek until he tasted blood, lips tightly curled over his gritted teeth, frantically pacing with his arms crossed and fingernails digging into his elbows even through his shirt.

When Jonathan sighed, exasperated, Steve was suddenly screaming at Jonathan. He didn’t even register it until it was happening. Wheeler shouted back, a storm of words tearing them both at the seams. Wheeler never overreacted. He never shouted unless it was a joke.

But this wasn’t a joke. It was real.

And the distraught anger that boiled inside of Steve was evident as he shrieked back at Jonathan and Eddie below out of sheer disdain towards them for being down there with you instead of himself. It wasn’t even their fault. It was nobody’s fault, and somehow that made it worse. Because it meant that Steve had no one to blame.

So, he blamed God. A god that he wasn’t sure he even believed in.

Eddie finally flipped his shit, screeching into the walkie-talkie. The trees. The world. “She’s. Not. Breathing!!!!!! The fence turned on too soon!!!!”

“Murray, turn it back now!” Steve cried out.

“Steve’s stuck up top, he needs down here! He’s a lifeguard, Erica, help!” Dustin’s cries were heart wrenching.

Erica came onto the line. “I’m on it, Steve, hang on!”

After another agonizing 15 seconds, Murray said it was clear — his voice cracking.

Eddie flung his bat at the fence. No electricity.

Steve hurled himself down the wall.

Flinging himself to the ground, Steve could feel himself begin to hyperventilate again as he looked over your pale face up close. Your full lips were no longer that tempting shade of rose pink.

They were blue.

So, Steve moved fast – straddling you and thinking back to lifeguard training a few summers ago. One of the few things I’d done right in high school was learning CPR. He locked his knuckles against your chest, starting compressions while ordering Jonathan to keep doing mouth to mouth.

“How long has it been...” Steve’s question sounded like a statement, muttered through his actions.

“Over three minutes,” Eddie spoke, his voice also shaking. Then he mumbled, “...if not longer.”

Steve’s stomach churned. He grit his teeth, jaw clenched, forcing the next round of sobs back down his throat. Your name was choked on his lips, mixed with vulgar curses muttered under his breath. Your lips were still parted from the attempted resuscitation, and your eyelids were beginning to peak open. But your lively irises were trapped behind her hooded eyelids, dead and unmoving, and the thought of not seeing them ever again fucking wrecked Steve.

One, two, three. “C’mon, Bauman.” Four, five, six, breath. “Bauman, c’mon —”

Steve’s arms began to burn as he frivolously tried to pump life back into your slender frame.

God, I hate her, Steve thought. I fucking hate her.

Of course it would be her that this happened to. Of fucking course. Not me. Because that would be too easy. Then she would keep so stupid fucking calm, like she always is in situations that infuriate me. She would keep herself together. Her stubborn attitude would keep her emotions at bay. Because God forbid she be visibly scared. She had to be the goddamn hero. Because she is perfect. Impossibly perfect.

So fucking perfect.

“Bauman, cmon, please,” Steve pleaded.

“YOU GUYS, TALK TO US. WHAT’S HAPPENING?” Robin sounded panicked over the walkie.

Eddie didn’t even know how to answer. He just stared, helplessly.

Steve’s shoulders slumped, and he felt the stupid tears that sloped down his face and onto his trembling lips. He tasted the salt, the bitterness making him want to curl up and die. He'd never felt this sick in my life. He never wanted to feel it again.

But he would feel it ten times worse if this is how it was gonna end.

If Steve was never gonna see another day with the niece of Murray fucking Bauman bothering the ever-living shit out of him, then his world was just going be dull again.

Funny how he once thought that’s how he’d preferred it. The world in which you didn’t exist. Steve had raved to you about it, day after day. About how much better his life would have been in that world if you had simply never come into the picture. How much happier he would be, because you wouldn't have been around to ruin it. You would simply cease to exist, and all would be right in the world.

Now he had spoken it into fucking existence. And if there was ever a regret that Steve Harrington had in his life, it was having ever thought for a second that it was what he actually wanted. He would rather be forced to rewatch all his days as King Steve and watch everything horrible that he did and bitterly regretted now, if it meant avoiding this.

Because now, all he wanted was you.

God, please, let me keep her...

Jonathan stopped giving mouth to mouth, heaving for air. Dustin looked at him in pure horror, and for the first time ever I saw Eddie look more terrified than the kid.

“Jonathan,” Dustin croaked.

“Whoa whoa, w-what —” Eddie stuttered.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.” Steve screamed.

Steve sounded like a strangled animal, growling at Jonathan — who now just wept and wept, overwhelmed. He tearfully argued back with Steve, voice booming and defeatedly saying something about how it’s not working. Something about it being too late. And Steve wanted to punch him square in the face.

On top of that, the walkie-talkie kept blasting off in Eddie’s hands with everyone’s voices. Mainly Murray, who was demanding information, screaming —

“Someone tell me what’s going on with my niece right now!!!!!!!!”

Eddie stuttered something to Wheeler, moving to take his place. Wheeler obeyed, moving aside.

Steve swapped with Eddie, giving you mouth to mouth while he pumped your chest. Jonathan murmured into the walkie, all stuttered and shaky, something about them trying. Still trying.

And all the while, Steve kept murmuring your name while blowing air into your lungs, and it sounded like a broken prayer on his tongue. Eddie was openly crying at this point, his tears silent but his motions panicked as he continued pumping your chest while Steve willed life back into your airways.

Dustin was whimpering like a child, petrified. Jonathan held him, winded and freaked.

Another minute ticked by, and you still weren't breathing...

Don’t leave me here, Steve begged you in his head.

Lips, air. Breathe, breath, breath.

Don’t fucking leave me here.

Chest compressions. Pump, pump, pump.

I don’t know how to be without you anymore. You ruined that world for me. That world is gone. I don’t want it back, don’t fucking let me go back there.

Steve was ready to throw himself into that electric fence, and escape the world he had created for himself with his own ignorance.

And then he saw your eyes scrunch.

Your face moved.

Steve’s breath hitched as he saw your hand twitch.

“Bauman. . . ”

He barely breathed your last name, almost afraid to say it again. As if that would make you disappear again.

The most guttural cough escaped from your throat, sending you into a choking fit before it began to level out. All the while, Steve watched life color your face again. Your eyes tried to focus, your eyelids still slightly hooded. But your chest rose and fell, air finally filling your lungs.

Steve felt as if someone had revived him. A rush of air escaped his mouth, his shoulders sagging as he let the overwhelming sensation of relief rattle his bones through body-wracking sobs. “Fuck…”

Steve immediately sought your touch, his hands on your face as his fingers grazed your jaw and your neck.

Eddie choked on a sigh of own relief as he distanced himself to let Steve straddle you.

“Don’t…touch the fence,” you murmured, your voice small and strained as you caught your breath.

Fucking hell. Even now, just barely back to life, you're cracking a joke.

Steve laughed hard. So hard, incredulously. Kinda hysterical. He watched tears splash down onto your cheeks, realizing that they were his own. But Steve didn’t give a fuck how pathetic he looked as he crushed his lips against yours and cried while doing it. He was completely on top of you at this point, caging you with his legs and arms. His elbows dug into the earth beneath you both, one hand brushing your hair off your forehead and the other grazing your shoulder. And your collarbone. And the soft divot of your neck. Steve just had to touch you. He had to feel you moving, to assure himself that you were really alive again.

“Y-you,” Steve stuttered. “You were dead. Your heart. Stopped.”

His choked words hung in the air, desperate and broken. Haunted by the memory that had just been his reality not even a minute ago.

Your eyes opened a bit more, softly glazed over and searching his own. Your heart seized, seeing the tearful anguish in Steve’s eyes up above you. You wanted to take it away from him, never wanting to be the source of his sadness.

Your hand slowly reached for his, taking his wrist and pressing his palm to your chest.

“S’okay, Harrington,” you sighed. “S’working now.” Thump, thump, thump.

You watched as Steve clenched his eyes shut, gnawing his lip and whimpering unabashedly at your heartbeat that drummed under his touch.

Fuck’s sake, he thought. Of course she is comforting me. She just died, and yet here she is – comforting me.

God, you were insufferable. Steve fucking hated it. He hated you. He hated you so much.

So fucking much…

Steve buried his face into the crook of your neck, nose pressed to your skin as he wept freely. You held his hand to your chest while his other arm wound up around your head.

“Hate you,” Steve weakly mumbled against your neck. All anguish, no heat. “Fucking hate you.”

You could only sigh, just staying there, letting the soft sounds of your breathing against Steve’s ear ground him again. Whether it was seconds, minutes, or hours that passed, you didn’t know. Didn’t care.

And no one else said anything. The boys fell silent. Completely silent. Watching in disbelief. So much had just happened, revealing so much more at the same time…

The walkie-talkie squawked again. All channels were tapped in. Joyce, your uncle’s crackly voice, and Hopper.

“Someone give me fucking update,” your uncle demanded over the walkie in a wobbly, distressed voice. “Kids, c’mon. What’s happening?” …even Hopper sounded emotional. “Please, please tell us she’s alright,” Joyce’s sweet voice was full of tears.

Eddie jumped at all the voices. He sniffled, remembering he needed to answer. Through his own tears, he told them, “G-group 4, w-we… we got her. Steve’s got her, sh-she’s breathing… She’s alright.”

As Lucas came back through the channel — “Oh thank God” — they could hear Murray in the background sounding like an uncharacteristically relieved mess.

Somehow, Steve pulled himself away from you. He looked down at you, swiping his elbow across his nose hastily. So much snot. Not that you minded, or even noticed. Your eyes were closed again, fluttering exhaustedly.

“Do you wanna,” Steve hiccuped, still stuttering. “Wanna — s-stand up?”

You gave a weak nod and managed to feebly peel your eyelids back open. Steve leaned back on his knees, ready to help you stand.

Jonathan was right behind you, arms slipping underneath your shoulder blades to help lift you off the ground. Steve clasped his hands in yours, pulling you to him after he’d risen to his own feet. You stood too, your footing wobbly and weak. Steve let you lean into him, one arm snaking around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. His left hand gripped the back of your neck, balancing you. Balancing both of you. He kept murmuring a series of little I got you’s, repeatedly saying it was all okay in a hushed tone only meant for you.

Steve finally glanced up to look at the others.

Dustin was a quiet, relieved mess. He looked shaken to the core, glancing from Babe Bauman in Steve’s arms to Steve himself. He trembled, hugging himself. Eddie quickly moved to comfort him, wrapping a tight arm around him as he bit back his own tears. Steve made a mental note that he would undoubtedly thank him for that later. Jonathan looked at Steve with more empathy than he ever thought him capable of radiating in his direction. The oldest Wheeler looked exhausted yet wired at the same time, and Steve caught the sight of his bottom lip trembling before he looked away.

In spite of the relief, all three of them were asking themselves the same question: how long has something with these two been going on?

Steve suddenly felt seen for all that he was. Fragile, underneath his cocky bravado. He felt like a sham, who only pretended to not be emotionally affected by anything. He felt like deep down, he was still that prick from high school, who didn’t know what he had until it was taken away from him. Only then did he learn, right? Only after he was made to face the hell he had created for himself, was he able to finally see the mistakes that he’d made and wanna make them right. It happened with Nancy. It happened with school. It happened with Max and how he failed her as a brother (or mother, according to the kids). When was he ever gonna learn…

Steve could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Him, and you. He knew that the three guys were watching, and that they’d all seen him fall apart completely. The two of you were definitely found out now — no going back. But Steve didn’t even care. He couldn’t now.

Without any control over himself, Steve shamefully sought comfort and privacy by adjusting himself in your arms. His girl. He buried his face into your shoulder, clinging to you desperately and trembling.

And you melted. Your head was fuzzy and everything hurt, so you couldn’t really focus on much that was happening the way that Steve could. But all that mattered to you right now was him, as he held you like he’d lose you all over again unless he did, his breathy cries rattling his bones. You cradled his head against your shoulder, softly murmuring to him that it’s alright, it’s okay.

Sometimes, Steve would find himself smiling in your embrace, despite the anguish as he couldn’t stop mentally reliving what had just happened. He had to forget it. You were here. You weren’t gone.

He got to keep you.

He’s going to keep you.

Even if it fucking kills him.

***

thank you guys :') I know this chapter stretched out an already stressful situation but it needed to drive the point home: Steve's hatred has transitioned into love.

tag list: @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @xprloki @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers @originalthingparadise @pleuviors @pumpkinonice @ihaveproblemsihaveproblems @brinleighsstuff

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #murray bauman #eddie munson #dustin henderson #rockstar eddie munson #enemies to lovers trope

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wearepurplejackets · 9 months ago

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Little recap of episode 4 of season 4 of Wakfu

Look at this!!

You saw this beautiful smile???? This smile can stop babies from crying (and Nora). This smile can revive a puppy.

You saw it???

Well, I hope you did because I think we'll not see it in a really loooooooong time~ (maybe 9... Or 10 episodes.) The storm is coming... violently with a bat.

(BEHOLD SPOILERS OF EP 4 OF SEASON 4 OF WAKFU)

I remember Tot said season 4 was gonna be sad a f*ck and that Yugo will have to pass some kind of "hard trial" (AGAIN) in this season because this kid will never have a good rest. Not even a breath. Stop. Give this little boy some holidays c'mon, the lord is always testing our little angel to the limit. (And by lord I mean Ankama I'm looking at you...)

So it's very likely that Yugo will start to suffer even more in the next episode. And of course, in the entire season :))))))) Let this boy have something, someone precious by his side more than an instant and stop take it from him in the next second, I beg you. (He just found his family... And... Qilby I guess. And Adamai just abandoned him already to investigate by his own way...)

Just seeing how the kings and queens of every nation were so disrespectful in front of him and just called his mother a monster and made her cry, well. (I want to riot! When Joris said they were "quite tense" he fell short.)

Okay, yes, I understand the eyes in the sky~ are pretty creepy and of course I don't trust her either, at least, like this is so suspicious for sure, no one was born yesterday even when she is trying to be so kind and helpful monitoring the entire planet (yeessss mom, way too much).

But, c'mon, this is a goddess as tall as... I don't know, as much as she wants, girl she is made of f*cking magic. If she wanted she could erase you from existence. She didn't have to give a f*ck about anyone and HERE WE ARE~

The best thing you can do is looking for a fight with her in the moment you meet her with no hesitasion? Do you want to die that much? Do you know about survival? Did you skip that class maybe? (I'm going for a tea BECAUSE-)

It was so necessary to (be a little racist dear rich people and) insult the giant blue mother of your hero in his f*cking face and the people who are at least trying to do your job (which any of you losers did well, like ever, btw. When Sadida kingdom was about to be destroyed by the chaos of Ogrest what did you do?? Eh, where were you???)

Jobs like protecting and saving your citizens from, nothing, being robbed and I don't know: imminent death??? I mean, really? Was that all you thought about in this situation? Being a d*ck was your best choice.

These same guys here were talking about stolen freedom?? What freedom? The brotherhood of Tofu had to save your asses for like 3 season. 3 ovas and dozens of comics. The same people who criticize others actions but never assist and reunite when they are needed, Cause I don't know Rick, it seems a little fake....

Yugo just met his mom and his sis and he already has the world of 12 hating them... Like wow, the rulers are all going to die in the hands of that kind of white demon/zombies of TLOU/soul suckers or whatever they are. And I really don't give a f*ck for any of them, ladies and gentlemen. Only the crowns are going to remain. (Down with the monarchy.)

Weeeeeeeell.

You know what? I don't care what Yugo will do from this point. Nop, not a bit. But I'm with him to the end of everything. I will support you honey, I will defend you no matter what. I mean, I'll be totally okay if he decides to save the world for the third f*cking time and I also will be okay if in the end he prefers to let all these motherf*ckers die in an instant with no mercy and no regre-

And it could even happen that Yugo loses someone important in season 4... (The same way I will lose my mind.) Hope that never happens, I just swear to god-

Anyway, Yugo fans, unite and brace yourselves.

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spicyclover · 2 years ago

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Keeping my husband's name out of your f*cking mouth!

Summary: Rude fan and an amazing husband.

Request

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

I'm open to requests.

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

To say Y/n has always been super protective of her family is such a small word. She loves her man and can’t bear that people can hate such a wonderful person just because he’s better than another driver.

“Keep my husband’s name out of your fucking mouth.” She yells at the rude fan.

Max couldn’t be prouder of her than at this exact moment. He usually doesn’t care about the comments made on him, but it’s been affecting his mood for quite some time, and she can't bear it.

That’s why when she comes back to him shortly after her altercation with the rude fan, he can’t help to find her more sexy than ever.

“Seeing how worked up you are when someone tries to attack me is getting me hot and bothered. Max mutters alluringly in her ear, closing the door behind him and grinding his solid erection against her entrance.

“We... we can’t,” She whispers, her head against Max's shoulder, allowing him to put his kisses on her neck. “They are right outside the door.”

“We’ll be fine.” He says, taking her breast in his firm hands. “As long as we keep this quiet.”

He palms her breast before pulling down the cup and taking her hard nipple between his lips. She arches her back, whimpering as he squeezes her hips and dives into her harder and faster.

“Max,” She whispers his name. For Max, it’s the sound of heaven, and an angel comes to earth to bless him with her greatness.

“You feel so fucking good,” He tells her, bringing their mouths together. Their breaths mingle as he drives them closer to the edge. “Fuck, I wish I could stay here all night long.”

“Losing your stamina already, Verstappen?” She smirks, and her eyes close.

“I’m about to fuck that smirk right off your face.” Reaching under her, he cups her ass cheeks in his hand and bucks his hips against her - harder, faster, deeper.

She holds on to his biceps, her legs tightening around his waist as he repeatedly claims her mouth and tastes her moans.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes. They move together, the two of them finding a rhythm that has them seeing stars as they admire every smooth.

“Fuck, I’m so c-close! This feels too good…!” She was crying out.

“You want to cum? Cum on your echtgenoot’s cock?” Max asks, breathless. Husband

“Yes, yes! Make me cum, Max, please!” Tears began forming in the corner of her eyes as she held onto the wall for dear life.

Bringing his fingers in front of her, going down until she felt them on her clit, and he started to rub the numb in sync with his thrust.

“Cum on, cum on, my cock! Show me how a good girl you are.”

He sinks deeper into her, sending her off the edge once again.

“Oh, my God, Max. I can't...” She pants, losing her breath as he chases his own orgasm.

“Am so close, Schat... you feel so good. I don’t want it to end,” he admits, sliding his hand around her waist to keep her in place. She watches him in the small mirror of his driver's room. Max smirks at her glare.

She bites her lower lip, trying to hold back her moans of pleasure. She lowers her eyes to where their bodies are connected in the reflection. Max can’t help to find it incredibly sexy, and she’s sexy.

“Keep your eyes on me, Schat. I want you to see me cum.” His words are intense that she glues her eyes on him. His body finally goes rigid and shakes against hers.

Max loves those quickies. All this frustration is evacuated the best way possible, with sex and love.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1

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shadowuponstorm · 3 months ago

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You're F*cking Joking

Like everyone in the X-Mansion, Reader is a mutant with the ability to manipulate minds telepathically and have regenerative healing. She and a certain Wolverine have been butting heads since Reader joined the mansion, and everyone has had enough, so what will happen when Charles Xavier pairs the two up for a mission?

"No," Logan said from beside me as Charles voiced that Logan didn't know what he was going to say, "I already know because you have her in here."

"Geez, thanks asshole," I telepathically put in his head, making him jerk his head in my direction with his famous scowl.

"Hey, no telepathic manipulation," Charles said as I turned to him and told him, "I was simply telling this broody bear of a man what he already knows."

"Why I outta-" Logan responded as Charles cut him off, "This. This is what I wanted to talk to the two of you about."

"What do you mean?" I asked as Logan and I looked at Charles in confusion.

"You two have been going after each other's necks since Miss L/N's arrival at the mansion and frankly, everyone's had enough of it," Charles tells us as I felt my blood freeze.

I didn't know it had gotten this bad between us, but it isn't my fault Logan's been an ass to me since the very first day.

"Charles, I-" I started to say before he raised a hand up, "I just wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"Apology accepted, but that's not going to be enough for everyone else," Charles responds as Logan quirks an eyebrow and asks what would be enough, "You and Y/N are going on a mission together. Not an official one, but it should be long enough for the two of you to hash out your differences."

Before I could respond, Logan grunted out, "You're fucking joking, bub."

"I am indeed not joking. You both are going somewhere and will not return until this issue is resolved. Do you understand?" Charles said as I confirmed my understanding while Logan gave a small nod.

After the both of us exited Charles' office, and before we headed to our rooms to pack for this "mission," we both gave each other a look that said, "This is a stupid idea."

Where the "mission" takes place...is in the fucking woods. Great idea, Charles, stick two of your dangerous mutants together among the trees for a bonding exercise. After we arrived, Logan was already ahead of me gathering wood for the fire we'll need to light later tonight while I set up the tents, except there's only one tent in the duffle with a note from Storm saying, "Good luck."

"Damn it Ororo," I muttered to myself before I heard Logan drop the wood into the pit before he asked why I was cursing Storm, "She packed only one tent, we have to share."

"Of course we do," Logan mumbled as I glared at him and said, "Well, if you have a problem with that, you're free to sleep outside in the wilderness."

"Just put the tent up," Logan grunted as he stomped away to grab more firewood, leaving me alone yet again.

"Ugh! Why must he be so infuriating?!" I shouted in my head as I kicked the ground in frustration.

Once I calmed down, I started building the tent, which, thankfully, wasn't that small so Logan and I wouldn't be squished against one another. The sun began to set, and after Logan lit the fire pit, I started cooking dinner. A few minutes of silence passed, and Logan was smoking a cigar before I said, "Why do you hate me?"

"What do you mean?" Logan asked, but it was muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

"Take the damn cigar out of your mouth if you're going to talk. I can hardly understand you," I snapped back as Logan rolled his eyes and took the cigar before asking me what I meant by my question, "I mean, why do you hate me so much to the point where you want to bicker with me every day."

"I don't hate you," Logan said as I scoffed and told him it was funny that he said that, but his words and actions indeed said differently.

Logan sighed before explaining, "I don't want you to get close to me." Before I could ask why, he continued, "Whenever I get close to someone, they either get hurt or die, and I refuse to let that happen to you."

"Like Scott and Jean?" I asked as Logan nodded his head and mentioned how his first night in the mansion ended up with him stabbing Rogue with his claws from a nightmare, "So you don't want me close to you like a friend, gotcha."

"I didn't say like a friend," Logan said as I looked at him, confused, before he expanded, "Ever since you came to the mansion, I've felt some way about you. I don't know what it could be, but if something happened to you, I couldn't live knowing you're not here anymore."

"Logan," I started to say as I saw the stew was ready and decided to quickly fix the bowls before it gets too hot for the both of us.

"You don't have to get theatrical and tell me I'm not right for you, I get it," Logan responded as I rolled my eyes and telepathically told him to shut the hell up.

"You want to know what I thought about you the first time I saw you?" I asked as Logan gave me a slight nod before taking a bite of the stew, "Guarded, not wanting to give too much about yourself away, and putting the tough guy act on."

"But I also saw someone who cares a lot about everyone around him, even when he thinks no one notices that part of him, but I do. I admire that so much, and yes, while it is infuriating that we keep bickering back and forth, I'm hoping that will change someday," I telepathically told him as I feel his eyes back on me and see him put his bowl down.

Logan gets up from his seat and leans over me, his dog tag hanging between us, our lips inches apart, before he whispers, "Can I kiss you?" I nodded before I felt his hands go into my hair to move my head back so he could turn his head to the side, and we kissed.

"God, her lips are so soft, I could kiss them all day," I hear his thoughts come through, making me pull away with a smile to whisper to him, "You can kiss me anytime you want."

"Good," Logan whispered back with a smile and moved back onto my lips, swiping his tongue on my bottom lip, and I allowed him in.

After what felt like hours kissing, we pulled apart to get air back into our lungs, and I start laughing.

"What's funny?" Logan asked with an amused look on his face.

"Do you think Charles saw this as an outcome?" I asked as Logan shrugged and told me maybe he did, or he just saw our true feelings toward one another through all the fighting and bickering.

-Back at the X-Mansion-

It's been two days since Logan's and mine's mission, and it feels good not bickering or fighting like we used to. Now, it's just playful and joking between us, and of course, Logan has to keep his stone-cold demeanor up around the students so they don't call him a softie. I come down the stairs and go towards the kitchen to see Logan sitting at the table with Rouge and Bobby.

"Morning, guys," I said as I grabbed my mug and poured myself a cup of coffee before I heard Logan's voice, or his thought, come through, "I'm damn lucky she's mine, and her ass looks great in those jeans."

"Down boy, not in front of the kids," I telepathically shot back at him before I turn around to see him with a smirk on his face, "Smug bastard."

"What were you guys talking about?" Rouge asked as she and Bobby looked between us before I shook my head with a laugh and said, "Nothing you need to know."

#logan howlett #wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman imagines #logan howlett imagine #james logan howlett #marvel imagine #x men #x men imagine #deadpool 3 #deadpool & wolverine

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bleucaesura · 7 months ago

Text

STOLITZØ - FIFTY EIGHT

Blitzø sat in bed staring up at the ceiling when he heard a knock at the door. It opened a crack and Fizzarolli poked his head inside.

“Fizz!” Blitzø beamed at Fizzarolli.

“Hey,” Fizzarolli looked around the room. “Is this an ok time?”

“Of course,” Blitzø waved him over. “I sent Loony home to get a proper night’s rest. And Stolas… Actually. I don’t know where Stolas is.” He shrugged.

Fizzarolli closed the door behind him and pulled up a chair by the bed.

“Oz caught him in the hall.” Fizzarolli sat down and made himself comfortable. “Said he had something to discuss with him.”

Blitzø raised an eyebrow.

Fizz waved it off.

“Doesn’t matter. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Mmk.”

They sat in awkward silence for a time.

Blitzø cleared his throat.

“You look good, Fizz.” He smiled warmly at him.

“You’ve definitely looked better.”

“What? You’re not digging the pharaoh mummy look?” Blitzø pantomimed tossing back voluminous tresses over his shoulders. “Not into head bandages?”

Fizzarolli averted his gaze.

“Not a fan of hospitals.”

Blitzø cringed. “F*ck… I’m sorry… I didn’t me-“

Fizzarolli waved him off. “Really not a fan of seeing people I love, hurt.” He looked down at his hands in his lap.

Blitzø reached his hand out as far as his IV would allow, trying to reach out to Fizz.

Fizzarolli noticed and looked up to meet Blitzø’s gaze.

“Thank you for being here, Fizz.”

Fizzarolli smiled sadly and took Blitzø’s out-stretched hand. “I wasn’t gonna let anyone keep us apart this time.”

Blitzø grinned and fought back tears.

They sat in comfortable silence for a time, holding hands, enjoying this moment. One that had been long overdue.

Blitzø tried to fight it, but a yawn managed to escape.

“You’re tired. I’ll let you rest.”

No…

Fizzarolli went to stand but Blitzø gripped his hand tighter.

Please don’t go…

“Would you stay?” He looked at Fizz, pleading. “Like when we were kids?”

Fizzarolli thought for a moment, then he slid his hand out from Blitzø’s.

“Oh… Right..” Blitzø’s heart clenched, tears welled up in his eyes and he looked away. “You’ve got to get home…”

A moment later the lights in the room turned off, and Blitzø looked back to see Fizz standing by his bed.

“You’re going to have to move over if we’re both going to fit.”

I f*cking hope he can’t see me crying in the dark…

Blitzø scooted as far over as he could and Fizz climbed under the covers on the other side of the bed.

They both shifted until they lay on their sides facing each other.

They chuckled awkwardly.

“Well. Haven’t done this in a hot minute.”

Fizzarolli snickered. “Nope.”

Blitzø noticed Fizz was still wearing his jester hat.

“Aren’t you going to take that off?” He asked off-handedly.

Fizzarolli froze and buried his face in his hands.

Blitzø’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Fizz?”

Fizzarolli looked at Blitzø, silent tears streaming down his face.

“Fizz?! What is it?” Blitzø could feel something was very wrong.

“Blitzø…” Fizzarolli shuddered a sigh.

“Whatever it is…” Blitzø reached out to take his hand.

Fizzarolli covered his face with one hand, shook his head and held up a finger - telling Blitzø to hold on.

“You’re f*cking scaring me, Fizz…”

Fizzarolli sat up. Blitzø propped himself up on an elbow.

“I’ve only ever let Asmodeus see me without this,” Fizzarolli touched his hat.

Blitzø raised an eyebrow.

“But it’s a part of who I am,” he swallowed hard. “And I think I need to be ok letting others get close enough to see… EVERY broken part of me.”

“You’re not broken, Fizz,” Blitzø reached out to him, but Fizzarolli shook his head.

“I know I’m not,” he took a deep breath. “But I’ve still got broken pieces…”

Fizzarolli pulled his hat off and clutched it to his chest in anguish. He couldn’t bear to look at Blitzø.

Blitzø shot upright.

This is MY fault…

“F*ck.. Fizz… I’m so f*cking sorry…”

Fizzarolli started to cry all over again. He tried to hide his face and put his hat back on, but Blitzø grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“You’re f*cking amazing, Fizz.” Blitzø clutched him tightly. “And don’t worry… Your horns will ALWAYS be bigger than mine.”

The two cried themselves to sleep that night in the same position they’d always slept in as little kids: curled up, touching foreheads and holding hands.

***

Stolas and Asmodeus stood in the doorway to Blitzø’s room and watched Fizzarolli and Blitzø sleep.

“Is this something I need to be worried about?” Stolas whispered to Asmodeus.

Asmodeus smirked and shook his head. “I ain’t.” He looked at Fizzarolli with such love and adoration, Stolas couldn’t help feeling like he was invading their privacy somehow.

Asmodeus looked at Stolas and squeezed his shoulder in encouragement. “I get your reticence. It’ll take time for you two to figure each other out. But I know my Fizzy.” He looked over at the boys and smiled.

“And the fact that Fizzy let Blitzø see him like this” Asmodeus cocked his head so Stolas would look where he was looking - at Fizzarolli’s exposed horns. “Means he’s trusting people again. Trusting Blitzø again. Opening himself up to the idea of family again”

Family…

Stolas’s heart ached. He wanted that kind of closeness with Blitzø. He wanted Blitzø to let him in like that.

“And if my Fizzy trusts him with that kind of vulnerability? I know you can too.” Asmodeus smiled warmly at Stolas. “Hell. I trust the idiot with Fizzy’s life. That’s gotta say something, don’t it?”

Stolas smiled meekly back at Asmodeus. “It does.”

“Good.” Asmodeus clapped him on the back, catching him off guard. Stolas tried not to squawk in surprise.

Asmodeus chuckled.

Stolas shot him a glare.

Asmodeus snorted, tried to cover his laugh, and turned into the hallway. “Let’s go. Give those two some more time to rest. They need it.”

“Yes.” Stolas followed, looking longingly over his shoulder at Blitzø, and how peaceful and content he looked sleeping there, next to Fizzarolli.

If only I could make him feel that safe…

“I suppose you’re right.”

*****

#helluva boss #blitzø #stolas #stolitz #fanfic #stolitz fanfic #helluva boss fanfiction #stolas helluva boss #helluva boss stolitz #vivzieverse #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #brandon rogers #blitzo #fizzarozzie #fizzarolli #fizzaroli helluva boss #fizzmodeus

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dedalvs · 3 months ago

Note

Would it be reasonable to use a mirative as a way to say that you "ended up doing X" like saying "I ended falling asleep" or "I'll end up getting sick"? I'm having a hard time confirming anything about how languages encode intention, or the lack thereof. After some thinking that's what I came up with, though, but I dunno if I'm just reachinga bit too much with that.

Sure? If it makes sense in your language.

I'm going to pull out a paragraph from the article on mirativity on Wikipedia that I believe helps to illustrate one of the central problems conlangers face in interacting with linguistic research:

As you can see, there's a back and forth here involving Aikhenvald (because of course) and the one who proposed the category of mirativity (DeLancey) and others. In my opinion, the entire argument is f*cking ridiculous and is best settled by asking, "Who tf cares?" It reminds me of the Wikipedia article on the hortative that has red flags at the top saying, if I may paraphrase, "Uhhh...wtf?"

In short, both linguists on either side of this argument believe there's a trophy shelf called GRAMMATICAL CATEGORIES where certain features may sit proudly with their name emblazoned on a plaque above the name of the linguist who discovered it. On the one side, you have DeLancey saying, "Mirativity deserves its own trophy with my name on it!" On the other side, "No, what you've discovered can be encoded with other grammatical strategies, therefore it doesn't deserve its own trophy, and you get your name on nothing!"

Meanwhile, languages do need to have a way to express things like "We ended up going to the slam dance protest after all" and "He's apparently really good at juggling mosquito hawk wings", so what does it matter if either of them get a trophy on the shelf or not?

For a conlanger, what matters is how your language is going to express these meanings. It is not the case that you have to unambiguously express every shade of meaning without resorting to complex explanations. If we could do that we wouldn't have fiction. Part of the trick with learning how to create a conlang that feels more natural (whether you're going for a naturalistic conlang or not) is that the majority of meaning are expressed with non-dedicated morphological constructions.

For example, if you look at everything as morphemes, then there should be a morpheme for everything. If you want to turn a statement like "John is giving a fish to the flower" into a question you simply take your question morpheme and stick it somewhere. But look at English!

STATEMENT: John is giving a fish to the flower.

QUESTION: Is John giving a fish to the flower?

No morpheme there at all but a little switcharoo with the word order. Some linguists and a lot of conlangers want to get all galaxy brained and say "MAYBE THE WORD ORDER CHANGE IS THE MORPHEME", and, indeed, maybe the real conlang is the friends we made along the way, but a better way to look at it is we use what we have to express new meanings before creating something new.

So, if your state zero is you have something that express mirativity (i.e. surprise at some state of affairs), then, hey, why wouldn't use that for "it ended up that"? It's kind of surprising if you end up doing something. It's running counter to your expectations. Sure! If you want to get all "my eyeglasses put on a pair of sunglasses" on it then you can have your genunine-shock-mirativity suffix and your we-didn't-intend-to-but-it-happened-anyway-mirativity suffix and someone-told-us-it-would-happen-but-we-didn't-believe-them-but-then-it-happened-but-we-weren't-dismayed-mirativity suffix, etc., etc. If you keep going down that road, though, you end up with there's a unique word for every possible thought, and you end up with an ultimately unlearnable and unusable language.

In short, you do you. As long as you can explain it and it makes sense to you, then it works.

#conlang #language #linguistics

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thesakuragarnet · 1 year ago

Text

Carnal Addictions (Dabi X Fem! Reader)

Summary: After a rough day at work, you come home to find your wanted lover lying in wait.

[Part two of my Yandere Dabi X Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader mini series] Sequel to Crimes Of Passion

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: swearing, smut, Yandere-ish Dabi, drinking, childhood friends, Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader, Second Person POV, established relationship, possessive/obsessive Dabi, making out, questionable relationship (Toxic but also non-toxic...like edible playdough), Dabi has that tongue from that one Horikoshi drawin where he's in the suit (the stans know the one), cuddling, b!nge dr!nking (just a wee bit)

Word Count: 2,101 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: explicit s3xual content, 0ral fixation, ma$turbat!on, drunk s3xy times (Dabi is just h0rny and drunk basically), finger sucking, rough 0ral s3x, overst!mulation, d!rty talk, slight choking, bl0wj0bs, cunn!lingus, 69, n!ppleplay/licking, face-f*cking, vag!nal f!ngering, v0cal during s3xy times, neck kissing, c0me swallowing, praise k!nk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It'd been a week since your encounter with Dabi...and, truthfully, you still didn't know what to make of it. He was obsessed with you to a point where it was crucially concerning...and yet, you weren't exactly complaining. You loved the attention. He was comfortingly familiar; your best friend and guardian angel brought back to life in the form of an animalistic villain who would burn the world for you. It was certainly the most thrilling part of your life...and the most exciting that it had been in years. Dabi was very adamant that you remain at your apartment rather than bring you to the League of Villains' base. He wanted to keep you safe...away from anyone who may seek to use you as leverage or bait. Still...it was apparent that you two were...something of a couple at the very least. Dabi was staying over every chance he could, and the feeling of someone watching over you was now sickeningly stronger than ever. You would look over your shoulder as you worked, expecting to see his silhouette, but he was always out of sight.

...

You'd finally finished the prototype for the temperature controller, and, rather than hand it off to your client, you'd decided to bring it home for Touya to try out. You carry the briefcase in one hand and your apartment keys in the other as you shove them into the lock of your apartment. The second you turn the keys, you're blasted with the scent of alcohol and smoke.

"Finally home, princess?" Dabi's gravelly voice echoes off the walls as you slip inside the darkness, closing the door behind you. As your eyes adjust, you can make out the familiar blazing cerulean flame that casts shadows across the walls, gently dancing from a candlewick. He's sitting down on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table with a tall bottle of booze in his hand. He lifts the bottle to his lips, his eyes trained on yours intently as he gulps the alcohol, draining half the bottle without taking a breath. The collection of empty bottles sprawled on the floor tells you that he's been rooting through your stash that was meant to just be for parties and special events.

"How long have you been here?" You scoff, your cheeks tinting pink when you realize his eyes are starting to drag across your body...borderline analyzing you. Dabi chuckles darkly when he puts the bottle down, visibly very drunk; he simply shrugs, snickering to himself as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head and staring at you lustfully.

"Long enough. You shouldn't have kept me waiting," He mutters snidely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Y'know...you're looking-hic-looking pretty good tonight."

"I'm in my work clothes," You reply flatly, walking toward him and setting the briefcase on the table, "I brought you something to try."

Dabi clicks his tongue, and he reaches out, grabbing your wrist. "There's something else I wanna try," He grins, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

"Touya, I really think you need to see this-" You start, only for Dabi to forcefully jerk you onto the couch, where you land with a grunt on the cushions beside him. He roughly grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him before he sloppily presses his lips against yours. He reeks of alcohol and ash, and you can taste the liquor on his long, warm tongue as it prods against your own. He practically sticks it down your throat, and you can feel the healed stitches in the back of it as you tentatively tease back. You raise your hands, trying to push him away when he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you even closer as he groans lowly into the kiss. Your eyelids flutter shut, coating your vision in darkness.

"Mmmmm, I missed youuuu," He pants as he briefly pulls away before his lips smash against yours once again. "You taste so good, baby," He groans, the alcohol clearly filling his brain with nothing but lewd ideas. His words send a chill down your spine, making you shudder. You have to admit, Dabi's possessive obsession with you is exhilarating. His upper lip is soft while his scarred, bottom lip is rough, and the contrasting sensations in his kiss always make your heart skip a beat. Dabi's tongue traces the roof of your mouth, and one hand roughly grips your shoulder while the other one disappears. The faint sound of rustling fabric reaches your ears, followed by more intense groans from Touya...borderline moaning between each hasty kiss. You open one of your eyes, squinting through the darkness as you continue to kiss the villain. You can see Dabi's arm moving, and it doesn't take you long to realize he's palming himself through his jeans, hips slowly grinding his clothed erection against his hand.

"Touya!" You gasp as you pull away, eyes trained on the straining fabric; the unmarred flesh between Dabi's scars on his face glows red.

"Couldn't help it, princess. I'm so-hic-so...I want you so bad," He slurs, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek before he gently pulls down your bottom lip with his thumb. You freeze, unsure of what to do before he slowly presses his thumb into your mouth and onto your tongue.

"Suck," He commands under his breath, and, as if in a trance, you comply, completely hypnotized. Dabi's eyelids flutter, and he leans forward to softly sink his teeth into the side of your neck. He pulls you into his lap, and you gasp when you feel his hard cock pressing against you through both of your clothes. Dabi pulls his thumb out of your mouth and thrusts his middle and pointer finger in its place, almost making you gag with how far he sticks them inside. You cough, and Dabi chuckles under his breath, dragging them across your tongue as you attempt to suck on them.

"Good girl," He practically growls, reaching up under your pleated skirt and pulling your panties to the side. Roughly, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth...and promptly slips them into your dripping cunt. You cry out in surprise, and Dabi shuts you up with another deep kiss that makes you relax.

"So wet for me, baby," He hushes, biting his bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss. He unbuttons your blouse with his free hand while his fingers pump inside you. He's being a little rougher than usual because he's drunk, but he's certainly more vocal and reactive.

"My beautiful princess," Dabi slurs out in a breathy whisper as he pushes your bra up above your breasts, not bothering to unclasp it before he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. Your moans pitch higher and louder at the combined stimulation, and you look down to see his ocean-blue eyes boring into you. "Mine," He whispers around your tit, attempting to force the whole thing in his mouth as if his life depends on it. He squeezes your other breast, his warm, calloused thumb ghosting over one nipple as his tongue teases the other.

"Oh Touya~," You whimper, and he groans at the mention of his real name. He curls his fingers in just the right spot, and you cry out even louder.

"Fuck, I need more of you," Touya rasps, and, hastily, he pulls his fingers out. Before you can protest, he takes hold of your shoulders and flips you over. You frantically put your hands on his legs to brace yourself from falling, and you feel Dabi grab your thighs, jerking your pussy toward his face as he lies down. You slide up his body until your face is just above his clothed erection.

WHOOSH!

In one swift motion, he tears off your skirt and panties, leaving you bare, and without a word, he shoves his face between your legs. His enchantingly warm tongue traces up and down your slit, and he sighs at the taste, muttering soft words of drunken praise. It feels so fucking good. The moment his tongue touches your clit, you flinch, only for him to pull you closer, forcing you to let him pleasure you. Your name is on his lips, and, in the heat of the moment, you start unzipping his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock. Dabi gasps as you wrap a hand around his dick, slowly leaning forward to place your lips around the tip.

"Fuck," He moans before slipping his tongue inside your slit, gently lapping against your insides, making you squirm. He digs his sharp, serrated nails into your thighs as he tongue-fucks you, moving your hips.

"Touya," You whimper with your mouth full of his cock as you feel pleasure building up in your lower back. You bob your head up and down, sucking like your life depends on it. Effortlessly, Dabi pulls his tongue out and lifts you up higher to suckle your clit, and you deepthroat in response, taking him all the way in until your eyes are watering and your nose touches his balls.

"Ohhhh, damn princess," Dabi growls, swirling his tongue around and around in just the right spot, making your heartbeat race as pleasure stirs deep within. You pull back, a string of spit connecting his tip with your lips as you dissolve in pure ecstasy.

"Touya-Touya-I'm-" You gasp breathlessly between wanton moans as Touya holds you up, eating you out with an intense hunger.

"Come for me...Come for me princess...I want it...I want it so bad," Dabi snarls desperately, and your voice pitches higher and higher until your orgasm comes crashing down through your entire body. Even after you've came, Dabi still doesn't stop.

"Fuck, you taste so good," Dabi moans like a porn star as he continues to devour you, despite your overstimulated whimpers that spill from your lips. Frantically trying to distract yourself, you turn your attention back to Dabi's dick, which twitches the moment you press your lips to his leaking tip. Immediately, one of Dabi's hands crawls up your lower back and presses down harshly as he thrusts his hips, forcing your head down and making you gag.

"Suck that cock, baby," He groans, finally pulling away from your overwhelmed cunt to lean back and sigh in drunken pleasure. Your eyes brim with tears as you breathe heavily through your nostrils, completely submitting to Touya as he face-fucks you. He rocks his hips, breaths coming out labored and heated as he twitches in your mouth.

"You're doing so good, love," Touya slurs, his hand that's putting pressure on your back snaking up to gently grasp at your hair. Your heart flutters at the praise, and it only takes a few more seconds before he's spilling down your throat.

"Fuuuuuuuck," He moans loud and low, his fingernails raking down your back as you swallow it all. You take a deep breath, gently pulling back and wiping the tears from your eyes and the spit from your mouth before moving to lie on top of Dabi on the couch, resting your head gently on his chest.

"That feels...so much better," He hums, laughing softly to himself before he yawns.

"Rough day?" You ask, looking up at him as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Why'd ya think I've been drinkin'," Dabi sighs, looking down at you with a serene, content expression.

"You wanna get into something more comfortable and come to bed?" You propose, your fingers tracing the bit of unmarred flesh on his pecs that's exposed by his V-neck.

"May need help...I'm...pretty sloshed," Dabi admits with a grin.

"I can show you what I brought for you in the morning. C'mon," You sigh as you slowly get off the couch and extend your hand for him to take. Dabi looks up at you with tired eyes and a blissed-out smile from the afterglow before he grabs it. Carefully, you help guide him to the bedroom, where you both officially strip down to nothing and cuddle close under the covers.

"I wasn't too rough tonight, was I, princess?" Dabi yawns as he spoons you, burying his face into the top of your head.

"Never," You grin softly, bringing the back of his hand to your lips and kissing it. Dabi chuckles darkly behind you, and you can hear the alcohol-fueled grin on his face as he says:

"Don't say never...you might be giving me a challenge."

#my hero academia fanfiction #dabi #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfic #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x you #heavy smut #smut #villain dabi #my hero academia smut #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi my hero academia

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fictionalgap · 6 months ago

Text

I Hate My Coworker (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Modern Au! Barista! Kit Thantalos x Barista! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Tension, Kit and reader is 18+

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Song Recommendation: Hatred (A Duet) - Kinks

You were absolutely mad at yourself.

Not because you have just made it with that Thantalos girl but you also liked it.

And now you cant stop thinking about it.

"I wanted a bagel with cheese, this one doesn't have any ın it. " annoyed customer complained.

"Sorry. I'll get you a cheese bagel." You took the tray from the customer with a tight lipped smile. You took the bagel and put it into the microwave.

It has been five minutes since you both leave the toilet.

"Where is the toilet?" The same woman asked.

Toilet. Where you and Kit did it. You did it with someone for the first time and it was with Kit and it was in a f*cking toi-

"It's upstairs. It will be on your left. " Kit explained.

"Your friend is really a ditz." She had a mocking smile.

"Hey! You can't talk to her like that! " She said furiously. The woman ignored her comment as she went upstairs. You felt Kit breathing through her nostrils as you came into the real world.

"Don't do that. " You still felt mortified.

"Do what? " She raised her brows.

"Talk back for me."

Kit's face furrowed as she grasp your words.

She looked like a kicked puppy and you regretted what you have just said.

Joseph came downstairs with lots of dishes to be washed.

"Here you go, ladies." He sighed then looked at you both with a raised brow.

"What's this? "

"What? " Kit raised her head.

"It's like you argued again but you don't want to tear each other's throats this time."

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

He waited for you to say something but when he couldn't get anything from both of you he said "Well, I'll get to work then. " He said as he left.

Kit was thinking of something as she placed the dishes in front of the sink. You both started to do the dishes as there were no new customers in the shop.

"I'm sorry I talked back for you."

"It's okay. I might have overreacted."

She chuckled.

You looked at her. "What? "

"What were you thinking about when you zoned out and before? "

You blushed at her question. "Nothing."

"Nothing my *ss." She leaned into your ear and whispered. "I've just f*cked you stupid, didn't I? " She said cockily.

You looked around to make sure no one is looking and then you kicked her right boob with your elbow and she backed away with pain. She almost dropped the plate in her hands. She had good reflexes. You saw her almost dropping things only to catch it again. She even catched a mug you almost have dropped.

You giggled hard as you cleaned the mug in your hands.

You saw her clenching her jaw.

You bit your lip and tried not to laugh to not get attention from customers.

"What the fuck, Y/N!" Kit asked angrily.

"You kinda deserved it... with your comment I've never asked for. " You snapped back.

"This is harassment you know. I can report it. "

"Oh yeah, what about the emotional harassment I am dealing for a month. "

She looked at you like you said the world is flat. "You are the one who started it. "

You sighed. She was right.

You turned to her. You wanted to tell her you hated her mother and her company for taking away your favorite place in the world, your memories of your parents which is slowly fading away. You wrote them in detail of course. Every memory in detail in your journal. You kept the photos of you three too but it never compared to being there. Exactly where your parents are.

It wasn't her fault. She probably even didn't know about the parks but you couldn't help but thought of those things when you looked at her.

You didn't know what to tell her.

"I just... I don't like your mom. " You managed to say it and then the door opened and a new customer approached towards your direction.

Kit's mouth dropped in confusion.

You took the order of the customer and started working on their order.

You felt her eyes on you the whole time.

~~~

The day finally ended so right now Kit and you were both free. Joseph let you go earlier. He wanted to stay for some arrangements.

You never spoke after your confession about Kit's mom.

You grabbed your backpack as you left the shop but you felt someone pulling you to the left. You grabbed you pepper spray to temporarily blind whoever that is.

The person grabbed your wrist and twist it to the side before you can use the spray.

It was Kit.

Your mouth hanged open.

Her smile met her eyes. "You gotta be faster than that."

You freed you wrist from her hands with an annoyed look. You put the spray back into your pocket and crossed your arms.

"What is your problem? "

Kit looked at the floor than to you before changing her posture and making herself taller than you.

She cleared her throat. "I have a question. "

"Go on." You were confused.

"You mentioned you don't like my mum. Why?"

Your hurt was visible on your face.

"It's a long story. "

"I have time. "

"It's getting late. "

"Y/N...Please."

You rolled your eyes.

"Fine but I can't be late to home. My grandma would go nuts. So either you come with me or you'll have to wait."

Kit's face lightened up.

"Okay... but will your grandma be okay with me being at your house? "

"Don't worry about that. "

You knew she would be delighted.

@lmaoo-spiderman

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