#I’m kind of going backwards in time with these pictures

[ahqkas]

Could you do the bamboos doing the tiktok trend a boy who jacket and kind please

♯JACKED AND KIND ( the batboys doing the ‘jacked and kind’ tiktok trend with you ! )

— gn!reader, dick & jason & tim ( separated ), cursing, not edited

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

this man would literally be so hyped about doing the trend with you!!

your boyfriend stood behind you as you positioned your phone just right, angling it to catch the best angles. he doing some simple stretches, probably the same ones he did whenever he got ready for one of his patrols. you watched in the reflection your phone provided how his navy blue shirt fit his torso, wrapping and stretching around the muscles without any real effort to show off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. you could also point out the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. he knew exactly how good he looked.

“okay,” you took a step backwards toward him once you were satisfied with the preparation. “don’t let me down.”

a chuckle left his throat at your words while he met you halfway in the steps, taking a few steps forward so he could be standing behind you in order to record the trend. “baby, letting you down isn’t part of my vocabulary. lifting you up, on the other hand . . .” he trailed off with a wink and you managed to lightly slap his bicep before the countdown went off and the video started recording.

the song started playing from the phone — “slim pickins” by sabrina carpenter — and you tensed into position, facing the camera. you felt the warmth of his large hands on your hips before he touched you ( his touch was steady, as if he had done this a million times before ).

with an almost effortless motion, dick lifted you up in the air for a second before you made contact with his shoulder. you squealed in surprise from how quickly the whole thing happened and tried to balance yourself on top of him. he adjusted his grip on your knees while flexing his biceps for the camera, showing off the pure muscle with a large grin etched on his pretty face.

he looked confident, like he was the first man to ever grace the earth, even swaying a bit on his feet. show-off. the song continued playing, and just as the lyrics — “a boy who’s jacked and kind” — faded, dick followed it by lowering your body down in a quick move, catching you in a bridal style before you could even process what was happening.

“dick!” you couldn’t help but gasp this time. you haven’t seen this feature in the trending videos yet, and you were pretty sure you two would end up viral with just this move alone. you could picture the comments already.

“get a room”

“i miss my future bf”

“ON MY PHONE? ON MY WIFI? ON MY ACCOUNT??”

he really was jacked and kind.

. . . JASON TODD !

jason would kill this trend without even trying.

you had been begging him for the last hour about doing one of those new trending tiktok videos. the ones where couples did something ridiculously romantic which caused the whole comment section to show what’s it like to be born a hater (“so cute!! BLOCKED” “reacted "👍🏻" to your message” “i’m sleeping on a highway tonight guys” ). jason had been through countless trends already, but you were extra set on doing this trend with him.

“jason, come on! it’ll be fun, i promise.”

he dropped the book he was reading on the coffee table with a dramatic sigh, turning to look you in the eye. “i swear, every time i turn around, there’s another damn trend going viral.”

but there was no real annoyance in the tone of his voice. he could act all rough and nonchalant, but deep down, he adored you with all his heart and soul. he’d never admit it aloud, but you got him feeling things he didn’t quite know how to process.

you looked over at him with those pleasing eyes he could never resist. “please, jay?”

letting out the biggest sigh you’ve ever heard, your boyfriend stood up from the couch and walked over to where you were standing in front of your phone. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered under his breath lowly with those beefy arms crossed at his chest.

“i promise this will be the last one.”

“uh-huh.” jason didn’t want it to be the last one.

you turned your head over your shoulder to look at him while you set your phone up. “you know how this works, right? just pick me up and place me on your shoulder.”

you didn’t have a single doubt about him not being able to pick you up. jason was a big guy, he could manhandle you all you he wanted without breaking a sweat, you knew that. he was going to pick you up.

“alright, sweetheart. get over here.”

the song started playing as soon as the timer was up and you felt his hands sliding up your thighs as he bend over a bit before he wrapped his forearms around the meat of your legs. he picked you up effortlessly like you weighed nothing, not a single sound of protest leaving his lips from the motion. your laugh filled the room when you made contact with his broad shoulder and you wrapped your arm around his neck, leaning slightly closer to him for the video to capture.

jason didn’t flex his arms, didn’t need to show his strength off. he simply wrapped his hands around your thighs, fingers kneading the soft muscles as he helped you balance yourself so you wouldn’t fall and make a blooper instead.

“see? no big deal.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

tim was never one to enjoy attention, especially not the one that came with being on camera.

but when you, with your sweet smile and convincing voice, had asked him to do yet another one of your tiktok trends, he couldn’t really say no.

“tim, please? you’ll love it, i promise,” you pleaded with him, already setting up your phone with the timer set straight on because you knew he wouldn’t resist you. he never did.

and he didn’t this time, either. “what’s this trend about again?”

you practically bounced over to where he was standing with pure excitement written all over your face. “it’s a lifting one. i just need you to pick me up exactly when the songs say ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’. simple, right?”

“i really don’t think–“

“oh, come on! you’re strong, and you’re always complaining i never let you have fun. this is fun, tim.”

at that, he let out a long sigh while his hand rubbed the back of his neck. he was thinking, deep in thoughts. but you were really really really hard to resist when you got like this — all pleading and loving with him. you had this look in your eye, he had realized, one that said you would never stop bugging him until you got your way. and he realized he was down bad for that look.

“fine. but if i drop you, don’t blame me.”

tim stepped into position behind you, his eyes narrowing as he mentally braced for the lift before the video could ever start. he wasn’t sure how exactly this was supposed to go, but it didn’t look that complicated, right? it was just about picking you up and holding you there for a few seconds. simple. yet, he couldn’t help but overthink the whole thing.

his stance was little awkward, with his hands hovering near your waist as if he wasn’t entirely sure of his footing, trying to maintain that balance between not looking too stiff and not being too casual either.

for a split second, everything was going perfectly. your boyfriend had you in his arms, effortlessly supporting you on his shoulder while your laughter erupted from your throat. you knew tim would be perfect for this trend. but that’s when things went sideways.

his feet shuffled under him and he lost his footing on the carpet beneath him. his balance wavered which caused yours to do just as same, and before he could adjust and save the situation, your body slipped a little too far to one side. tim’s eyes widened, and he made a split-second decision to shift his hands, trying to catch you before you fell completely.

everything happened so fast.

you were halfway to the floor when his arm shot out, catching you by the waist just in time. for a second, it looked like he might’ve actually saved the moment — then his grip faltered, and you were both tumbling to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.

“ah!”

the two of you collapsed together, but your boyfriend managed to twist in the last moment, taking most of the fall with his own body before you could hit the floor completely. he groaned softly under you with his chest rising and falling rapidly as you lay on top of him, your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and laughter.

“you almost dropped me.”

“i did drop you,” he replied dryly, but his voice held no real frustration — just the tiniest hint of amusement as he looked up at you.

it might’ve not been a video that would kill the whole trend, but it was a video that would never fail to make you smile. and that was enough for you.

[butyoudidthis4what]

Something Else (Perfumer Part 2)

Jack Abbot x Bratty f!Reader

6.8k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: NSFW, MDNI 18+, established relationship, dom!jack vibes, oral f receiving, mention of alcohol, biting, hickeys, manhandling, edging, stubble burn reference, spanking, unprotected PIV sex (birth control not discussed, but implied with the established relationship), age gap (reader 30ish, Jack mid/late 40s) but not mentioned, teasing, reader is a brat, like a really really big brat, no use of y/n or related, zero proofreading of any kind.

Summary: Continuation of Perfumer. Jack finally gets off shift and home to you. Bratty reader gets tamed.

AN: This feels like such an abrupt change of pace from No Man's Land which is where I have been living. It was just in my head and I needed to get it out. It's pretty much straight PWP which has historically been rare for me. I am quite nervous about posting this one because my smut writing feels so so so rusty and potentially not very great. So, I hope it's okay!

This is the look I picture him giving reader at the beginning!

Jack hears the quiet and slightly shuddery breath you take in at his words and can’t help but smirk. 

He likes this little game you guys play, likes when you’re a brat and he has to tame you and earn your submission. Likes when you start it subtly out in public.

Collins walks up to the opposite side of the desk around the same time you and Jack arrive. You share a brief moment of eye contact and then you scratch at your ear. You stop with Jack at the desk and stand close to him, close enough for your sides to touch. 

“Hey,” Collins calls your name to get your attention. You’ve become very close friends very fast. “I’m working with your man tonight, but I’m off tomorrow with some of the other girls and we were thinking of trying that new brunch place two blocks up once I’m off.” Jack’s head pops up and looks between you and Collins before settling back on you. “We figure somewhere between nine and eleven a.m. But McKay said she was happy to provide pregame mimosas at her place while you wait for me. She said she was fine with seven, good to stay on schedule.” 

 “That sounds so fun!” You nod at her, start walking over towards her, acutely aware of the way Jack tracks you as you do. “I’ve really been wanting to try that place! Probably makes the most sense for me to go over to McKay’s at seven if she’s going to be awake, just in case you actually get off on time for once.” 

Collins goes to speak again but Jack speaks first. “Don’t you already have plans?” 

You look back over at him confused. “No? Not unless I’m forgetting something.”

Subconsciously Jack moves his head towards you. “I think you are,” he nods. “Remember, we made plans.”

“Did we? When?” You go to say more but you’re interrupted by Collins laughter. “Heather!”

“I’m so sorry, the look on his face, I couldn’t help it!” She keeps laughing and it makes you laugh. 

“What?” Jack asks, clearly unamused. 

“We’re just screwing with you Jackie!” You giggle as you walk over to him. “We had a prearranged plan and signal to do this when I finally felt the time was right.” 

Jack blinks at you. “Did you now?” 

“Don’t pout.” You stick your lip out dramatically. “I have not forgotten our plans,” you assure him. You drop your voice for only the two of you to hear and run your hands over his chest, smoothing out his scrub top. “And I can assure you that I would never forget the kind of plans we have, nor would I ever take a rain check on them for some other offer.” 

“You’re a brat,” he replies lowly, an edge to his voice that makes another chill run up your spine. 

“You like it,” you whisper back to him before leaning up on your toes to give him a quick kiss. “Thank you, Heather!” You call out to her as she walks away and she just waves, still laughing to herself. “Have a great shift Dr. Abbot. Try not to have too much fun without me. Love you.” 

“Yeah, I love you too.” His eyes still track you as you walk backwards a little and wave at him before turning to walk out. “Hey,” he calls to you. You look back with your eyebrows raised in expectation. “Promises.”

You bite your lip and nod before turning again to leave.

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

You let yourself get some sleep while Jack works but make sure to set an alarm for 6:45 a.m. so that you can be up when he’s off. Or at least when he’s supposed to be off. Unsurprisingly, there’s no text from him at 7:00, but at 7:05 you get one. 

J – Probably going to be a few hours late.

You – No worries, me and my ankles will be here waiting patiently for your arrival home.

The next text comes at 10:07 a.m.

J – You up?

You – Of course. Just freshened up the ankles for you, loverboy.

You can practically see his eyes rolling from here, but you know he likes it. 

J – You will not like what will happen if you are not on the bed naked and waiting when I get home. 

You – That another promise, Jackie?

At that one you can just picture the way he clenched his jaw as he got in his car. You’re not surprised when you don’t get an answer. 

You do as he asks though. Kind of. 

You shut the bedroom door and strip, and then you put on what you think are one of the sexiest pairs of panties you own. 

You walk over to your shared bed and lay down, propping yourself up with a pillow just enough that you can make eye contact with anyone who walks through the door. 

You let your hand drift lower and lower until your fingers brush over your clit on top of the fabric. He hadn’t given you permission, hadn’t told you to even start getting yourself ready for him. You keep touching yourself, let your fingers rub circles over your clit, use the fabric rubbing against you as a new sensation, all the while thinking of what he’s going to do to you when he gets home. 

Your panties are noticeably wet by the time you hear the front door open, fingers sticky with your arousal despite having stayed on top of the fabric the whole time. 

Jack can feel himself starting to fill out again as he reads how you freshened up your ankles for him. You’ve pushed him today. But he needs it. He thrives on it, almost always, on taming you. On pushing you to the edge of your limits. On earning your submission.  

The drive is mercifully traffic free. He steps into your place, locks the door behind him and just drops his backpack on the floor. Doesn’t put it aside in its usual spot. Doesn’t hang his coat up on one of the hooks. Doesn’t call out for you. 

His coat lands wherever it finally falls off him as he stalks through the house towards your room. His shirt meets the same fate, landing not far from the bedroom door. He’s already fully hard by the time his hand hits the doorknob and pushes open your bedroom door. 

In retrospect he’s not sure why it wasn’t, but the sight of you on the bed, looking right at him, almost totally naked and rubbing your clit over your panties was not what he expected to see when he opened the door. He didn’t expect to hear your soft panting and the softest and most breathy moan of his name. Jack. He tries not to let you see how it gets to him, how you get to him but he knows you’ll see the clench of his jaw and flare of his nostrils. You’re a sight. The most beautiful and erotic one he’s ever seen. 

You bite your lip at him, fight to keep the smirk off your face, but don’t stop. After locking eyes with him for a moment you let your eyes move from his and trail all over his chest and abdomen and arms. And the now very prominent bulge in his scrub pants. He’s too handsome. He burns you sometimes you swear, just by standing there shirtless and silent with that stoic face of his and that jaw and those eyes that ever so slightly tell you just how affected he is. 

Wordlessly Jack steps further into the room and shuts the door before looking back at you. Silence like this always means something with him. Means he’s sexually frustrated and annoyed with you. Means he’s ready to tame. The way he cocks his head just slightly, though, is a silent challenge.  

“It’s funny, sweetheart. I don’t remember my text saying anything about you being allowed to touch yourself and distinctly remember it telling you to be naked on the bed.” His voice is too calm, too composed. He has too much control over himself, it drives you insane sometimes.

“Well,” you sigh softly, roll your hips a bit as you keep circling your clit, “the text didn’t say not to touch myself.” You take a second to let out a few more moans, another of his name, lick your lips. “And technically I’m not really touching myself. The fabric is touching me, there’s been no skin on skin, Jackie,” you smirk at him. 

Jack clenches his jaw and lets out a short hummed laugh. He doesn’t say anything though. He just takes his scrub pants off, tosses them in the corner and looks back at you in just his boxer briefs.  

He stalks closer to the bed, closer to you. “You think you’re real fuckin’ cute, don’t you?”

“Are you saying I’m not?” You pout just a little too cloyingly and he knows you’re still trying to fuck with him. 

“That’s not an answer.” A little jaw clench there. 

“Hmmm,” you hum, finally take your fingers away from yourself and up to your mouth, sucking them clean before releasing them. “Well it’s the only one you’re going to get.” 

“That so?” 

He can be so quick when he wants to be and before his question has fully hit you and you can start thinking of some bratty reply he’s leant over the center of the foot of the bed enough to grab your ankles and pull you down the bed. It’s so unexpected you yelp, but not in pain. He’s a doctor, he knows just where to grab to not pull too much on your hip or ankle. “Well that wasn’t a very bratty noise now, was it sweetheart?”

He pulls you by the hips now so that your ass is at the edge of the bed, rips your panties down and off you. Before you can wrap your legs around his waist he catches them, holds them up parallel to his body in front of him, but spread just enough for him to stand in between them. It gives him the perfect view of your pussy, glistening and on display for him. You see his eyes slip down to take you in before he drags them back to yours. He holds your eye contact as he moves his face towards one of your ankles and breaks your gaze just as the side of his face starts to brush your inner calf. 

Jack turns his face completely and you can see him hold his breath while he gives you just a little check in, a quick kiss to the inside of your ankle. And then he takes a deep breath through his nose. 

His head snaps back to look at you, pupils blown as wide as they can be, jaw clenched and rolling with the subtlest twitch under his eye for a second that only you would notice. His hands grip your legs tighter, tight enough to hurt just a little. Anyone else might think he was looking at you with controlled but raging anger. 

But you know that it’s a look of primal, possessive need, that Jack’s on fire for you, all searing skin and simmering blood and deep panting breaths. You know that his cock hurts as it strains against the fabric of his boxer briefs because he needs you so viscerally.

There’s another glance down at your pussy again as you hum saccharinely. His eyes snap back to yours. The slowest smirk pulls across your face as you hold his gaze, your eyes smoldering at him. For him. 

“Just thought you might like a little reminder of what’s yours, that’s all.”

Jack’s chest heaves just a little harder at your words and his eyes narrow slightly before pulling from yours and traveling down your body to take in you, all on display for him as he decides just what it is he wants to do with you.  

His cologne. 

His cologne is what you sprayed on your ankles. His cologne with just enough of a hint of your perfume coming through behind it so that it smells like you do after sex when he’s owned you, touched you so much and held you so close and fucked you so hard and so deep that the dewy sweat of your skin has evaporated much but not quite all of your perfume away and his cologne has stuck to you, marking you as his.

He’s still silent. Not brooding like he does sometimes. He’s just thinking. Just using the silence to toy with you and make you wait. Something about that makes you shiver. 

And Jack thinks he has you at that shiver. Keeps silent. Keeps looking at your body, especially your cunt. Keeps waiting for you to be the one to break and speak first. And you will be. 

But Jack thinks he has you and you saw it in a quick sweep of his eyes over your face at your shiver and you simply can’t have that. Not yet. 

“What’s wrong, Jackie?” You break the silence and give the smallest pout before your smirk comes back. “Pussy got your tongue?”

He raises his eyebrows at you, a slow smirk matching your own pulling up. He laughs a little. It’s a little more dangerous than if he hadn’t reacted because of how controlled it is, how it shows how much control he still has left. “Cute,” he nods at you as he caresses your ankles, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’re cute when you’re a brat.” 

“I try-” You’re cut off by him suddenly bending your legs at the knee and pushing them towards you as he moves closer to the bed, drops to his knees on the carpet. He rests your feet on his shoulder, leaving your ankles right there for the fragrance to perfume the air. 

He takes in another long breath through his nose and you swear you can hear him growl before soft kisses are being placed up your inner thigh. Instead of moving inward though Jack kisses outward, along the inner line where your hip and thigh meet. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t spray anything here for me to find,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses back towards where you’re desperate for him. 

“I considered it.” The words come out a little breathless as he gets closer and closer to your center. “But decided against it because then I would’ve had to listen to you bitch about not being able to smell me.”

Jack bites your inner thigh only a few inches away from your cunt and sucks, hard. Hard enough to leave imprints of his teeth, to suck a developing bruise into your skin. As he does so his stubble rubs lightly across your lips, breath hitching and hips twitching as you fight yourself to keep them down and not give him the satisfaction. 

He releases your thigh. “I don’t bitch,” he says nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly. As though he hasn’t noticed his face is an inch and a half away from your pussy. 

“Yes you-” You’re cut off with a gasp as Jack’s tongue licks you cunt to clit. Your head falls back onto the pillow without a thought as the sensation of his tongue overwhelms you. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” he pulls away from you for just a second, “were you saying something?”

He renders you unable to answer by giving you another lick before using the tip of his tongue to trace lazy figure-eights around your clit. His tongue drops down again and he leans into you, sucks at as much of you as he can before going up to focus on your clit, taking it between his lips and sucking, but leaving just enough space to not get a complete seal so it doesn’t feel quite as good as it could. 

You whine softly about it because Jack’s eaten you out and sucked at your clit enough times for you to know how it normally feels, that he’s fucking insanely talented at it and that he never slips like this. So you know he’s doing it deliberately. 

He gives a little grunt against you to say fine, if you’re so unhappy with it he’ll go elsewhere, and the vibrations of it as he sucks and pulls away from your clit make your hips jolt. Jack’s hands immediately come up and hold your hips down, hands strong and warm and so big as he presses his fingertips down into your skin. 

Jack trails his tongue down, teasingly traces circles around your entrance as he basks in the little mewls you make for him. His cock throbs hard against the fabric of his boxer briefs and he gives the slightest groan about it. 

As quickly as his tongue dropped down to tease you it pushes inside of you and you moan, louder than you want to for him right now. Jack’s stubble rubs against your inner thighs as he tongue fucks you a few times and then pulls out, fingers squeezing your hips harder when you whine about it. 

His lips move back up to your clit and suck again, but this time the seal of them is tight around you, his tongue flicking little circles against you in his mouth. It steals your breath for a second as your back arches while your hips remain pinned to the bed by his hands. “Oh, Jack!” The moan is quiet, clearly slipping out of your lips unconsciously. Your hands fist the sheets hard before unclenching and starting to move down to his salt and pepper curls.

Jack isn’t looking at you, he has his eyes closed as he focuses on you and the little noises you’re making for him but that you’re trying to hide and how you taste and how you smell and how hot your pussy is on his skin, chin coated in you. But he doesn’t need to be looking to know your next move. 

He suddenly pulls his face from you. “Don’t even fucking try it or we’ll end this right here, right now and I’ll go fuck my fist in the shower.”

You freeze for a second and then pull your hands back up and twist at the sheets again, give him a huff. 

Jack takes the few seconds he’s pulled away from you to move his hands from your hips and push his boxer briefs down, freeing himself. He gives a little groan of relief when his hand wraps around him and tugs a few times. You’re already a little too fucked out to really notice.

He lets his hand stay there as he brings his face back to your cunt, starts licking and sucking again. He fucks his fist as he devours you whole, needs the relief even as a piece of him mourns the fact that it’s his hand and not your hand or your mouth or your cunt. 

Jack builds a pattern with his tongue, repeats it over and over as you writhe for him against the sheets, as you give him sweet little moan after moan until you’re finally moaning his name loudly. Pleasure courses through you and heat roils in your lower belly as your muscles contract tighter and tighter and Jack works you closer and closer. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pant out “just like that Jack, just like that, fuck!”

And then he changes his pattern. You let out a vaguely frustrated sigh, but can’t stay true to it because the new pattern is just as good. You can feel him smirk against you at your sigh, move his face just a little so that his stubble scratches into you a little harder, starts to etch into your skin. 

Jack touches himself faster and faster as he licks and sucks at you, paying attention to how close he is and how close you are. The grunts and groans he pulls from himself send shivers through you and drive you that much closer to the edge. Your mind is so pleasure hazy you don’t even think to question why he’s making them. 

Once he gets himself right to the edge he slows down, is more absentminded with himself as he doubles down on you, pushes you right up to that same ledge with his tongue and mouth. He can feel your toes curl against him as you get a second away from the point of no return. 

You already know what’s going to happen but it doesn’t help, doesn’t make it easier to weather when he rips himself away from you. “No!” You cry it out for him despite yourself, despite wanting to appear unaffected. 

Jack laughs darkly. “You know only good girls get to cum, babygirl.”

You huff slightly, lay there panting with your eyes closed as you try and ride out your almost orgasm, hear Jack stand up. He lets one of your legs fall gently and holds the other up against his chest by your calf. So you wait for him. For whatever is next.  

You don’t expect the way he runs the palm of his hand through you though, the way he curls his fingers to drag up you in a way to collect as much of the arousal he’s pulled from you on his hand as possible. “Fuck, Jack!”

Your eyes fly open at you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him. The sight of him wrapping his slicked up palm and fingers around himself and starting to fuck his fist is unexpected but anything but unwelcome. 

“This could be you, you know.” His voice is low, followed by a few low pants as he touches himself. “This should be you.” He lets his hand that’s holding your calf adjust your leg so that he can turn his head and breathe in through his nose at your upper ankle, let the smell of him owning you course through him. His head turns back and his eyes find yours. He stares at you with that same intensity from earlier but this time it’s glazed with an even heavier lust. “I should be in your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt,” he growls at you. “But am I?”

Though an obvious answer, it’s not a rhetorical question. He expects an answer. Expects you to acknowledge and think about how he’s not in your hand or your mouth or your cunt. You stare at him, can hear your heart beating in your ears, pussy growing wetter and mouth salivating at the thought. You just can’t help yourself though. 

“Well if you have to ask Jackie…” You give him a little shrug. 

“God, fuck!” Jack groans, voice strained as he aims his cock at you and comes all over your pussy and lower abdomen. He works himself through it, chest heaving, glistening with sweat and flushed as he slows his hand and releases himself. “You’re fucking pushing it,” he almost laughs, but it’s more an observation he happens to find entertaining. 

He stares at his cum that sticks so prettily to your skin and pussy, claiming you just for him as he lets himself come down from his orgasm. “You look so beautiful like his,” he murmurs lowly, voice huskier than normal. “Covered in me.”

Before you can say anything he looks away from you and grabs the panties you were wearing, uses them to clean you off and sits you up. It surprises you a little, that he’s so eager to wipe it away. But then he’s sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. 

He shows you again just how quick he can be, and you’re yelping again at the suddenness of finding yourself bent over his knees with his palm caressing one of your ass cheeks. There’s no build up. There doesn’t need to be. You know why you’re in this position. 

“Count.” It’s an order.

“Or what? You’ll spank me?”

He does, obviously. It’s a little harder than he had been planning the first one to be just because of the extra attitude, the smacking sound a little sharper. Another one to the other cheek follows swiftly. He can feel you squirm on him and hear the softest moan that just makes it through your lips into the air despite your otherwise lack of reaction. 

There’s a pause as he waits. Waits for you to say one. Two. 

“I distinctly remember telling you to count.” His voice is still so composed even with as low in pitch as it drops.

“I am!” You huff at him. He squeezes at one of your cheeks where his hand just came down. “I am!” You repeat, doing your best to sound indignant which is difficult given the position you find yourself in. “In my head.” You feel his entire body tense. “What? You just said count. Not count out loud.”

Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He’s quite certain he hears you giggle about it. There’s some part of him that’s a little proud of you for this little display. He shifts his legs a little, spreads them just a bit and runs his hand over your cheek and under you to pinch your clit. Not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make you jolt and let out another pretty little moan for him. You can feel him start to get hard again against your thigh. 

“Outloud.”

Another little giggle. 

“Sir, yes sir.” 

He’s good at spanking, you have to give him that. He gives you ten in total, five to each cheek. He doesn’t alternate every time, brings his hand down in quick succession sometimes and makes you wait torturously for it to come back down at others, varies the pressure and how hard he brings his hand down against you, where he brings it down. 

By the time he’s done tears sting at your eyes as your ass throbs, burning and sore and stinging in its own right. 

“Good girl.” It’s low, breathed out more than actually spoken as he leans you back up, but you’re still able to hear it. The part of your brain that wants to be a brat feels betrayed by the part that glows at his praise and approval and sends warm happiness flowing through you. 

“Center of the bed. On your stomach.” For once this morning you actually do as he asks, crawl your way to the center of the bed and lay on your stomach as he takes his prosthetic off and crawls up in between your legs. 

You rest your head on its side, look back at him as much as you can. His eyes run over your ass as his hands grab your hips and haul you up to your knees. You go to push yourself up on your hands or elbows but all too quickly his hand wraps around the back of your neck and pushes you back down wordlessly. 

With his other hand he gets himself lined up with you and pushes inside you slowly, cognizant that while he’s already edged you and gotten you nearly dripping for him, only his tongue has been inside you, no fingers to help prep you. You whimper but Jack knows you well enough to know that it’s not from physical pain but rather from how slowly he’s sliding into you. 

As he bottoms out Jack closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, a little shaky because fuck do you feel good and fuck has he been waiting to be buried inside you since you showed up at the Pitt. 

He pulls out of you slowly, lets you feel every ridge and vein of him before he snaps his hips hard to get himself back inside of you. 

“Ohh,” you moan out, “Jack, fuck.” He does it again, pulls out torturously slow and snaps back in. 

“You want more baby?” He says as saccharine and teasing as you’d spoken to him when he got home. He pulls out a little faster this time, moves his hand from your neck and uses both hands to help pull you back onto him so he can fuck you even harder. 

You immediately go to get up on your elbows again. “Stay down,” Jack warns, curling over you a little and using his hand to guide you back down. It changes the angle, makes him slide deeper inside of you which draws a moan from you and an erratic buck of his hips as he chases the feeling. 

“But I can’t see you like this,” you pout, breathing heavily. 

“Brats don’t get to see,” Jack grunts out, leans back up and returns both hands to your hips so that he can return to fucking you harder. 

You take in a couple of panted breaths, tilt your head at an awkward angle for a second to see a little more of him. You know he sees you do it. Somehow you manage to smile at him. 

“You’re cute when you’re all worked up.” You mirror his words from earlier back to him and manage the smallest smirk before turning your head back to a neutral position. 

Jack lets out a quick scoff. “You’re really fucking something else today.” Jack slides his hands up a little and pushes down, forcing your ass to come up higher for him, again letting him get deeper and hit harder with the added bonus of keeping your head on the mattress. He watches your hands curl in the sheets as he rails you.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. 

He snarks a laugh at how you don’t have to be given that instruction twice, hand sliding between your legs and rubbing erratically at your clit as your brain starts to get pleasure drunk off his cock.  

Neither of you speak for a bit, not real words. It’s just the sounds of your panting and the moans and groans you pull from each other and the slap of skin on skin. You’re the first to break.

“Oh god! Jack!” You mewl as the pleasure starts to overtake you. He can hear and feel how close you are.

“Stop touching yourself.” Another order. You falter on this one, like you knew he would. So he stops, removes your hand himself.

Another orgasm ebbs away from you. 

You whine but do your damndest to remain unaffected, to try not to show how desperate you’re getting. But your whine has just enough of a desperate edge to it to let Jack know he almost has you. 

“What was it you said again?” He starts rubbing your clit. “Oh yes, I remember. The anticipation and wait makes it better.” He gives another dark laugh as he starts fucking you again, just as hard and just as intense. 

“Oh fuck Jack!” You gasp out. He hadn’t given you much come down time and so you feel your orgasm cresting again quickly. 

“Close, baby?” He asks like he doesn’t already know by the feel of your cunt around him. 

You can only nod as the pleasure grows stronger and stronger, your breaths coming harder and harder as you moan nonsense to Jack. 

“Jack!” You draw his name out in a moaned whine. “Need to come. Need to.” Your speech is a little slurred now. 

“Brats don’t get to come.” It’s nearly mocking the way he says it. Cocky. Like he knows he has you now. Because he does. He knows how close you are. His pace doesn’t relent. He speaks through the panting breaths he takes. “And what are you sweetheart?” 

“A brat.” You look back up at him with watery eyes and a real pout this time, on the verge of tears of pleasure. “Please-

“You still think you’re real fuckin’ cute?” he pants, cutting you off. 

“No, I’m sorry, please Jack, Sir, I,” a few tears slide down your face. “I want to be good for you.” You’re so ready for it, so convinced he’s going to let you have it now. 

But Jack stops and pulls out of you and you let out a little sob as more tears fall.  

“Shh, shh, shh,” he shushes you softly as he flips you over so you’re on your back. “I’ve got you.”

He pushes back inside you, grabs your calves and throws one over his shoulder, takes his time with the other as he lets himself take in a deep breath through his nose at your inner ankle and lets out what sounds like a growl from the deep within his chest before settling it on him like the other. His fingers on one hand toy with your clit as he leans over you and grinds himself into you. With how worked up and sensitive you are and the sound he just made for you it’s all you need and he finally lets you have it. 

Your orgasm shatters you. You swear you lose hearing for a minute, lose the ability to breathe and that your vision goes white 

“There she is,” Jack drawls, “there’s my good girl.” He moves his hand and stills his hips, let his hands grope at your breasts, fingers gently teasing at your nipples. 

You pant hard as you try to reorient yourself, finally get your eyes back open and look up at Jack. 

“Jack,” your breathing starts to return to normal. “Please,” you breathe. 

He moves your legs off his shoulders and helps you wrap them around his waist, lowers himself down so that your chests touch. “Please gets you what you want, doesn’t it sweetheart?” He leans his head into your neck and starts kissing you there, soft teasing things. 

“Yes.” It’s just as breathless as your please and something about it drives Jack wild. You let one arm slip under his shoulder and bend up to cling to his back as much as you can, the other staying above his shoulder so that your hand can find his hair, let your fingers run through it.

Jack starts fucking you again, hard. He puts his whole body into it, arching his back and using his knees for leverage to help his thighs and hips drive into you over and over. He keeps kissing your neck, sucks at it, nibbles at the spots he knows are most sensitive. 

“Oh Jack!” You arch up into him. “Jack, Jack, Jack.” He feels too good, fucks you too good. It’s unreal. 

You hear him grunt low from deep in his chest and it makes you shiver, let out a whine. “I love the way you say my name when you’re like this. Fucked out and cock drunk.” 

Jack’s voice reveals he’s just as drunk on your pussy as you are his cock.

It rips through you out of seemingly nowhere at his words, your second orgasm, just as good as your first but deeper, more intense in the way it feels like your muscles contract so hard all your bones will snap before they release with a rush of pleasure that makes you arch into Jack again. 

His name slips off your tongue in a moaned prayer again. “Jack, Jack, Jack.”

“You sound so pretty when you come for me.” He kisses at your jaw, down your neck, sucks at your collarbone while he fucks you through it.

Jack moves his hand, slows his hips to give you a little bit of time to recover. You whimper through your tears of pleasure. He’s not chasing his own release. 

Because he’s not done with you yet.

He picks the pace of his hips back up and you moan for him, claw at his back and scalp. He knows it’s not going to take much to get you there a third time with how sensitive you are, right on the border of pleasurable and painful overstimulation.

“You’ve got one more in you for me, sweetheart, I know you do.”

You shake your head at him. “I can’t.” You sniffle and he leans in to kiss away your tears. You say that you can’t but you trust Jack to know your body more in this moment than you do, trust that he won’t push you too far, only right to your limit before bringing you back. “It’s too much Jack!” You keen as his fingers return to rub tight circles over your clit again.

“No babygirl,” Jack finally kisses you, licks into your mouth possessively and moans just as loud for you as you do for him, breaks the kiss but hovers his lips over yours so they brush against each other when he speaks, “it’s just enough.” 

Your orgasm crashes over you just as he finishes his sentence, white hot and searing. Your hands tug hard at his salt and pepper curls as you go soundless from how hard your coming, almost holding your breath as the pleasure completely takes over. Your ability to speak suddenly comes back and you let out the most erotic moan of Jack’s name that he’s ever heard.

Your cunt clenching around him, the sharp burst of pleasured pain from how hard you tug on his hair and that moan of his name are all Jack needs. He follows you, coming with a groan of your name that’s so choked and even more gravelly than his usual voice that you think for a second it might make you come again. He keeps moving his hips somehow, fucking himself through it to try and keep the feeling from ending.

“Fucking christ,” Jack groans as his hips still, propping himself up on his elbows and panting as he looks down at you. “You okay?” You’re smiling at him, eyes completely glazed over, but you nod. He knows that right now you are. It makes him smile back at you. He takes another couple of seconds to even his breathing out before kissing your cheeks and nose and forehead and chin and then your lips to bring you back down. “You. Are. So. Fucking. Perfect.” He punctuates each word with a kiss.  

You blink at him, eyes a bit clearer. So he asks again. “Hi beautiful,” he smiles down at you amusedly, “you okay?”

You come back to yourself a little more and that’s when the trembling starts as you reconnect your mind and body enough for the dump of hormones and adrenaline to hit you, your body struggling to figure out what to do with all the pleasure. “Ohhh,” you sigh out, voice a a bit shaky, “I am so much more than okay, Jack. I’m trying to figure out what layer of the fucking stratosphere you just sent me to and how I get back down,” you laugh softly. 

Jack returns the soft laugh. “Good. Water now?” You shake your head, not ready for it yet. He gives you another kiss that you return and then lowers himself on top of you. He knows his body weight and the skin on skin helps with the trembling and reorientation. You wrap your arms around him, let one hand play in his curls while the other rubs up and down his back absentmindedly. Jack feels when you stop trembling and relax.

“You did amazing sweetheart, I’m proud of you. That was a lot.” He leans back up for another kiss and you beam at him, glowing in the warmth of his body and praise. 

“Thank you,” you murmur against his lips. A beat passes. “I really got you twice there with the ankles, once at work and once with the cologne.” 

Jack snorts a laugh and buries his face in your chest. “You really are something else, you know that?” He peers up at you and the only thing you see is a man hopelessly in love with you and not afraid to show you. 

“I do.” You nod with a smirk, almost smug about it. “But I’m your something else.” You grin at him. 

Jack laughs. In a few moments he’ll ask you if you’re okay again, pull a pair of pajama pants on, put on his prosthetic and walk around shirtless to get you water without asking and probably a snack. He’ll ask if you want a bath or shower and when you say no this time he’ll rub some of the salve you have on your ass to help soothe where he spanked you. And then after his twelve plus a few hours shift followed by fucking you out of your mind he’ll ask if you’re okay if he grabs some sleep, as if you’d ever say no and won’t be half asleep yourself from the fucking he just gave you when he asks. But for now he just agrees with you. “You’re correct sweetheart,” he nods, “you’re my something else.”

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

Hopefully it was okay?

Thank you so much for reading!! Let me know your thoughts, comments etc! Liking, replying and reblogging is so so appreciated! Requests are open and I love chatting!

If you'd like to be added to my Jack Abbot taglist please message me!

If you asked to be tagged and were not, please shoot me a message! I think it should work this time but I do not trust tumblr! If it doesn't please bear with me while I get it sorted. Thank you!

Taglist: I'm so sorry we went straight from No Man's Land to pure smut, that will be an incredible rarity here. Like this is very well likely to be the only time.

@yxtkiwiyxt @viridian-dagger @generalstarlightobject @andabuttonnose @beebeechaos @pear-1206 @starkgaryan @travelingmypassion @marvelcasey05 @millenialcatlady @loveyhoneydovey @rocker-chick-7 @mayabbot @taylorswifts-cardigan @phernandez2001 @sammiib444 @livinthevidaloca-ish @morallygreymaniac @woodxtock @shaydawgsblog @deadneverlander @imonlyhereformemes14-blog @sleepingalways @thelightnessofthebeing @generalstarlightobject @dudewithastick @thatoneawesomechicka @rebeccasaurusrex @mc-bbeth @compressoexpresso @evermoresivy @beebeechaos @loverofmusic @pastelbunnelby @literaryslapshot @sweetdayme4427 @joko-00 @phoenixhalliwell @chaotichurricaneoffandoms @chillicrackers @cosmoscoffeee @melancholicstation @scrappybear89 @xxemmarldxx @lm-lg-4ever @margoniezniez @diamond-gardens @keileighr @nobiggiebabe @a-stari-night

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time He Got Jealous Of His Twin Brother”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, pure fluff, slight Yuuji x Reader but we all know who you’re really here for, Sukuna is down bad, narration is mostly from Sukuna’s POV

Word Count: 1.80k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna is a fucking geinus.

His plan is full proof. His brothers put him in charge of buying the tickets for some stupid ass movie Yuuji wants to go see, and you always write your work schedule down on the calendar taped to the fridge. Sure, yeah, maybe he had to call out sick for today because this was the only day that Choso had work and you didn’t, but now he knows that his plan will fall perfectly into place. Yuuji is already at the apartment, you’ll come downstairs eventually, and Yuuji will invite you to come to the movie in Choso’s place, making it look like a total coincidence and definitely not something he’s been meticulously planning all week.

Could he have just, I don’t know, asked you to go on a date with him? Of course not, that’s fucking ridiculous. This makes so much more sense.

I mean, you absolutely loved The Human Centipede, definitely weren’t covering your eyes in terror and disgust when he showed it to you, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll just adore Human Earthworm. Hah! What a fuckin’ joke, you’ll be dragging Sukuna out of the theatre within five minutes and begging him to take you out somewhere else without his annoying twin brother.

It’s perfect.

Him and Yuuji are lounging on opposite ends of the couch while Yuuji is going on and on about an Elden Ring boss he can’t beat. Sukuna has his boots propped up on the coffee table and his arms resting behind his head as he half listens to his brother, and more so keeps an ear out for your footsteps upstairs.

“I was gonna try and beat her without summons but she’s kicking my ass, how many tries did it take you?”

“One.”

“Ugh!” Yuuji flops backwards on the couch, grabbing a throw pillow and shoving it over his face, his defeated whines muffled through the plush cotton, “She’s so impossible!”

Footsteps, finally. As you walk into the living room Yuuji uncovers his face, and you stop dead in your tracks, pointing at him, and then his brother, back and forth a few times before rubbing your eyes.

“Holy shit, there’s two of you?”

Oh yeah, I never mentioned my family huh?

Sukuna just gives you a smug smirk, “Three, but the emo one couldn’t make it.”

Yuuji perks up, jolting upright on the couch and giving you a bright smile, “Hi! I’m the normal one!”

You pull a chair out from the kitchen table, plopping yourself down into the wooden seat, “I think I’m gonna faint.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Sukuna is… a fucking idiot.

He knew his brother had a bubbly personality and could get along with literally anyone, but how was he supposed to know that you two would hit it off so well? Yuuji is pulling out all the stops, holding the door open for you, offering to pay for your popcorn, god it’s like he’s trying to get on Sukuna’s nerves.

Granted, it’s not like Sukuna told him that he likes you, but I mean for fucks sake that’s his twin brother! Shouldn’t he have some sort of sixth sense for this kind of thing?

That pink haired fucker has you wrapped around his little finger, you’re looking at him with googly eyes and cheesing like it’s fucking picture day. Ridiculous. Why don’t you ever smile like that for him? He’s funny!

I’m never letting him in the apartment again.

The three of you walk up to the top row of the nearly empty theater, Sukuna making sure to sit right between you and Yuuji. Previews are rolling on the screen as Sukuna is trying his damndest to hide the scowl on his face, his large arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches the way the large screen reflects different colors into your eyes. He didn’t really think this far ahead, he’s got you next to him at the movies but… what now? He’s mentally kicking himself enough as it is for not considering his overly charismatic brother, and now he’s realizing that he doesn’t even know what his own intentions are.

Did he just want to take you somewhere? Is he trying to sleep with you? Does he want to be… romantic with you?

God, what has he become? He’s supposed to be the tough fucking scary guy and he’s not only getting shown up by his nerdy brother, but also getting nervous at the thought of making a move on you.

Yuuji flings popcorn in your direction, making you squeal out a giggle as it gently lands in your hair. Sukuna groans, hardly paying attention as he’s deep in thought, running his finger through your hair and flicking the popcorn away. He’s so consumed in his own head that he completely misses the blush that tints your cheeks at his tender touch.

Should I have even bothered with this? I feel like staying at the house would’ve been better at this point.

A piece of popcorn flies into his eye.

“Ugh,” This is so stupid, Sukuna rubs his eyelid with his thumb, “Watch it, brat.”

Yuuji tosses his hands up defensively and you giggle again, leaning over the armrest and placing your pointer finger on Sukuna’s cheek, tilting his face to turn towards you. Have your eyes always been that bright?

“Ooh, bullseye.” He can feel your breath fanning on his face, you’re so close, but just as abruptly as you leaned in, you lean back into your seat. God, he wants more than anything to tell you to come back, but the words wouldn’t be able to escape his lips if he tried. Unfortunately, all he manages to do is glare down at you and make you shift awkwardly under his gaze, mumbling out a quick apology.

Fuck. I think I scared them.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

From what you’ve been able to gather, this movie is weird. Is it horror or romance? You’ve been having trouble paying attention, far too distracted by Yuuji leaning over the very annoyed looking Sukuna to excitedly whisper tidbits about the movie to you. But every time you look over to Yuuji your eyes can’t help but wander to Sukuna’s profile, the flashing lights of the large screen illuminating his tattooed skin, his bottom lip tutting out to blow the loose strand of his pink hair resting on his brow out of his eyes-

Ah dammit, I’m doing it again.

You’re so confused. Sukuna has been giving you mixed signals all night, sweetly running his fingers through your hair one moment, then glowering at you like he wants you dead the next. He’s so unpredictable, and you’ve been so distracted by him all evening that you’ve hardly been able to pay any attention to poor Yuuji, giving him bright smiles and fake laughs while your mind is completely consumed with Sukuna.

He’s been so grumpy the entire evening, you’ve been feeling like he’s… disappointed? Is he mad his other brother couldn’t come? Is he mad that you took the emo one’s place? Would he rather somebody else have gone to the movie with him? It was Yuuji’s idea for you to tag along, so it’s safe to assume that if Sukuna wanted you here he would have just invited you, right?

But then every now and again his eyes flicker to you, watching. Why is he looking at you like that? With his gaze so uncharacteristically soft, scanning your face like he’s searching for something, from the corner of your eye you can catch him looking at your lips.

Is there something on my face?

You’re ripped from your thoughts as a blood curdling scream erupts from the speakers, making you jump in your seat. You catch the tiniest glimpse of a smirk creeping on the corner of Sukuna’s lips as he sits like a rock, completely unbothered as per usual. You gently kick his foot under the seat, and he presses his large boot onto the top of your sneaker, pinning your shoe under his and keeping your foot locked in place under the sole of his steel toe boot.

You cross your arms over your chest, letting out a frustrated huff at him that only makes his grin grow wider, his face still pointed towards the large screen as he flashes his canines at you. He props his elbow on the armrest between you, resting his chin on the ball of his palm as he peers down at you with a smug grin.

“You ready to get out of here yet?”

Cocky fucker, I swear he gets off on making me mad.

“No.” You snap back defensively.

Unbeknownst to you, his question was not rhetorical. But you’re in it now, determined to sit through this entire movie even if it kills you. You’re bothering him enough just by being here, the last thing you want to do is make him feel like he needs to leave.

His smirk shifts into a grimace as he taps his boot on top of your shoe. You slide your sneaker away but he loops his calf around yours and pulls your leg towards him, gently kicking your foot. If you didn’t know better you’d almost think he was… trying to play footsies with you? You’re not really sure what he’s trying to do, all you know is that he’s still leaning on the armrest between you and probably unintentionally pulling you closer by your leg.

Your arm brushes against his as you try to maneuver your elbow onto the armrest, quietly muttering to him “You’re hogging up all the space.”

He leans down slightly to whisper in your ear, “Tragic. Use the other one.”

You nudge his forearm with your elbow, “Just move your arm.”

He lets out a quiet “Tch” and raises his arm to rest over the back of your seat instead, “This better, brat?”

You nod your head as a blush creeps onto your cheeks, luckily hidden by the darkness in the room. When you relax back into your chair you can feel his arm pressing into the back of your neck and his fingers lightly graze against your shoulder. It feels… kinda comforting, you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to lean into his touch and your heart starts to pound at the thought.

You don’t dare to look at Sukuna, deciding to quietly enjoy the moment. Which is a real shame, because if you did look at him there’s a chance you’d catch the way he’s gnawing on his bottom lip with a face that looks almost as flustered as your own.

He might be enjoying this more than you are, and he might even be thinking that having to sit through this movie might not be so bad after all.

A/N: POV you and Sukuna are two idiots who are into each other but neither of you have the balls to do something about it. Also writing Sukuna’s POV for the narration was SO FUN!!! We love our delusional king who sees you god forbid smile at another person and immediately assumes you’re in love with them Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[eternalsunrise]

home, sweet home.

wolverine (logan howlett) x f!reader

wc: 980 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, no actual smut but super suggestive and gets graphic toward the end

notes! horny . but also v sweet. i pictured origins logan while writing this 💋

“if you keep moving i’m going to start slicing you up on purpose” your threat is empty, wrist away from his face completely, razor pointed the opposite direction. even with his regenerative abilities, you don’t want to hurt him, even if it’s just an accidental cut on his jaw.

logan was fully capable of doing this himself. after all, he’d been shaving his own face for decades upon decades. but there was no way he was going to pass up this opportunity.

he came through the front door after a two week long mission, scruffier than he was when he left. his mutton chops curling up at the tips of his jawline, mustache just long enough to tickle your face. he’d forgotten to pack his razor, and he’d rather use his own claws than use scott’s, or even worse, hank’s.

you were on him as soon as he walked in, leeched to his body, your hands everywhere. it had been too long since the wolverine breathed you in like this, his enhanced senses overstimulated in the best way. you ran your hand over his scratchy cheek, inquiring about his new look. he told you he was planning on cleaning it up but was exhausted. that’s when you offered.

now he’s sat on the toliet seat, and maybe he’s enjoying the view of you on his lap a little too much. he lifted his hips, bouncing you lightly on his legs.

“hm. relax princess, jus’ adjusting.” logan gives you a teasing smile, basking in the bliss he only feels in your presence. your eyes narrow in faux disdain, it’s hard to be frustrated at a guy with shaving cream covering his face. you grab one of his feline quips of hair, using it to tilt his head to finish the task at hand.

“i’m going with you next time, i can’t have you walking around like a caveman.” i missed you more than i can say.

ever the man, the image of you in an x-men suit pops into his brain, the leather hugging your body just right. the thought brings a smirk to his face, but it fades when he hears your sigh. right, no moving.

“yes ma’am. i’ll call the professor and let him know.” i missed you too. felt like i was never going to come back to you.

you lean your body over to rinse the razor off in the sink, logan’s large hands on your thighs keeping you steady. the metal clinks against the porcelain of the sink, shaving cream and dark hair going down the drain.

when you look back, you see your boyfriend in place of the lumberjack that walked in earlier. still scruffy and masculine, after all he is still the wolverine.

logan lifts his hips again, shifting backwards and forcing you to fall against him, razor clattering out of your hand. “whoops” his deep voice carries no sympathy, chocolate eyes locking with yours, giving you that love struck look that makes your stomach turn. the kind of look he saves just for you.

your chests are touching, the closeness sets your whole body ablaze. it’s been too long since you’ve got to soak him up like this. the smell of him makes your head swim; leather, cheap cigar smoke, and that cologne you bought him a few months back.

logan sneaks his hands under his brown flannel button up you’re wearing, delighted to be met by the bare skin of your hips. the metal of his belt buckle is cold against the bottom of your stomach, causing a gasp to leave you.

as he admires you now; sitting pretty in his lap in only his shirt, logan wonders how he had the strength to leave you in the first place.

hands wander over his freshly shaved face, stubble like soft needles against your fingertips. your head has a mind of its own, and suddenly your lips are brushing his. once. twice. a third time. soft and slow.

there’s something new in the air now. your heart is pounding, and you wonder if he can feel it beating through your chest and into his own. there’s a split second of silent eye contact before logan lurches forward.

there’s hunger behind his kiss. a certain lust behind his tongue making its way to yours. your hips swivel in search of friction. hands tangled in his hair, pulling in a way that’s so familiar it makes logan groan into your mouth; already aware of what tonight will bring.

his hands are traveling up your his shirt, rough fingers just barely making contact with your breasts. his touch lights you on fire, forcing you to break apart, head tilting back in a whimper.

logan takes that as his cue, and suddenly you’re in the air. one of his hands on your lower back securing you to him, the other cradling the underside of your knee.

you latch your other leg behind his waist as he walks out of the bathroom. your lips reconnected, eager to make up for the lost time.

you recognize the softness of your mattress against your back as logan lies you down gently. his mouth continues its assault, a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and side of your throat. he can feel your pulse drumming frantically under his lips, and he has to bite back a smirk at the effect he seemed to have on you.

your reaching your hands down to unclasp his belt when….ring. ring. ring. you feel the vibration against his pants and you think you might die if you have to stop right now.

you both pause in your actions. logan let out a gruff “you gotta be jokin’” as he stands up straight, leaving you lying on the bed.

he pulls his phone from his pocket, eyeing the caller id, scott summers. he’d been the third member of the x-men to try and get ahold of him. fuck can’t a guy have a day off?

he looks away from the phone, shifting his eyes to you. you’re sprawled beautifully on the bed. hair fanned around your head, cheeks flushed red with a devious smile to match. his eyes follow your body down to your legs. they’re spread wide for him, and he watches in shock as you let a hand slide between your thighs, swirling a couple slow circles on your clit through soaked panties.

you throw your head back and call his name, and that’s enough for him. logan tosses his phone over his shoulder, leaning down and crawling in between your legs.

“they’re gonna have to come pry me from this fucking bed, doll. i’m not goin’ nowhere.”

god it was good to be home.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

we definitely need dad!harry picking up his little one.

School Gates.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!!

word count - 700.

in which, harry picks his little one up from school and his sons never been so happier, seeing as he’s a daddy’s boy.

It was a breezy Wednesday afternoon, and the school gates buzzed with the usual post-bell chatter. Kids’ laughter spilled out from the playground, and clusters of parents waited, coffees in hand, glancing occasionally at the school doors.

“Oi, Styles,” called out Jake, one of the other dads—mid-30s, fit, always in some sort of Nike gear. “You skippin’ leg day again or what?”

Harry chuckled. “Nah mate, I just save all my leg work for chasing this little guy around the living room.”

He jerked his chin toward the school entrance.

Jake strolled up with a coffee in one hand, car keys in the other. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“Yeah, I swapped my meetings for the day. Figured I’d do the pick-up. He gets excited when it’s me.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah, Luca acts like I’ve walked on the moon if I turn up.”

They both looked toward the school as the classroom door opened just a crack, then closed again.

Harry chuckled. “We’re early, huh?”

Jake took a sip of coffee. “Yeah. I needed a minute to breathe. Luca asked me at breakfast if robots cry when you turn them off.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s heavy for 7am.”

“You’re telling me,” Jake said. “Then he asked if our cat knows how to do karate.”

Harry laughed. “Yesterday mine asked if people in Australia walk upside down, and then started crying because he thought they might fall off.”

“That’s the thing—there’s no warning,” Jake said. “You’re pouring cereal, and suddenly you’re in a philosophical debate with someone who can’t tie their own shoes.”

Harry shook his head, still smiling. “He asked me last night if clouds have beds. I told him they just float.”

“And?”

“He said, ‘That’s really sad, Daddy.’ Like I broke his heart.”

Jake laughed out loud. “We’re just out here disappointing tiny people with facts.”

“Honestly, yeah,” Harry said. “And then they hug you with their whole body and you forget that they made you watch the same cartoon four times in a row.”

Jake nodded. “We’re in deep.”

There was a pause—both men glancing at the doors again, now hearing the early rumble of little feet and voices inside.

Harry sighed, in that half-dramatic, half-genuine kind of way. “Still can’t believe we’ve got school-age kids.”

“I know,” Jake said. “Feels like yesterday I was Googling how to swaddle a baby.”

“Same. Now I’m Googling things like, ‘Is eating Play-Doh dangerous?’ and ‘What to do if your kid thinks they’re a lizard.’”

Jake cracked up. “Been there.”

Right then, the doors opened, and the small crowd of four-year-olds began spilling out—some running, some spinning, one loudly singing the alphabet backwards.

“There he is,” Harry said, spotting his son immediately, curly hair bouncing, holding a painting in both hands like it was a treasure map.

A curly-haired boy came running down the path, holding something above his head like a trophy.

“DADDY!”

Harry crouched with a grin as his son launched into his arms. He caught him easily, wrapping him up in a big squeeze.

“Hey, mate. I missed you.”

“I made a picture!” the boy said breathlessly, holding it up between them. “It’s a rainbow giraffe and it has a jetpack!”

Harry examined it with exaggerated awe. “No way. That’s incredible. This guy looks like he means business.”

“He goes to the moon to fight mean broccoli!”

Harry gasped. “Mean broccoli? That’s the worst kind.”

The boy giggled and nodded. “But he wins ‘cause he has LASER EYES!”

“Of course he does,” Harry said, ruffling his son’s curls. “You’re basically a genius.”

The little boy beamed and slipped his hand into Harry’s.

“Can we go to the park?”

“Hmm,” Harry said, pretending to think. “What if we stop at the bakery on the way and get those little cinnamon buns you like?”

“With the icing?”

“Obviously.”

The boy gasped like he’d won a prize. “AND THEN the park?”

“Deal,” Harry said, standing and swinging his son’s backpack over one shoulder. “But only if you tell me everything about this rainbow giraffe on the way.”

Jake gave a wave as he walked past, Luca now dragging his hand and mid-sentence about jellyfish.

“See you Friday!” Jake called.

Harry nodded. “Don’t be late. I need someone to mock my terrible form.”

Jake grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

A day with the Fitzgeralds

(Dean Winchester x female reader)

Summary You and Dean visit Garth and Bess while you’re close by. There’s babies and diapers and a house full of chaos, and maybe Dean likes the look of you with the kids. CWs Glimpses of Dad!Dean. Family planning fluff. Garth being Garth. Rated Teen. 2.9k words.

Dean Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

You were hanging up on Sam just as Dean was pulling up to the house.

“We’ll see you when we get back,” Dean was saying into the phone you held between you two.

“Alright,” Sam replied. “Say hi to Garth and Bess for me.”

Ending the call, you put your phone in your back pocket, looked outside at the Fitzgerald house.

“It’s quaint,” you observed. Dean looked out the window too.

“Yeah,” he said, sighing, “can’t wait for our sleep-over with the werewolf family.” You chuckled.

“Beats some seedy motel,” you offered. Dean turned to you, grinning. “I like seedy motels.” You patted his arm, then opened your door.

“I know you do, honey,” you said.

Dean rang the bell, then took a step backwards, briefly running his hand into yours. You squeezed his and then the door was opened by a broadly smiling Garth.

“Hey you guys,” he said, widening his arms. Dean didn’t seem to want to step into them, so you did instead, squeezing the skinny man’s shoulders as you did.

“Good to see you, Garth,” you said, and he let you pass.

“Drive okay?” he asked just as Dean stepped closer, enduring a long hug.

“Yeah, all good,” he said, wrangling himself out of Garth’s arms and throwing you a look.

“Where’s Bess and the kids?” you asked to cover.

“They’re in the living room,” Garth replied. “Go on through.”

The cozy living room was only a few steps away. You had just enough time to see Bess sitting in an armchair, the twins in a little playpen before something grabbed you around the hips.

“BFA!” Gertie squealed, squeezing you. Your arm landed around her shoulders.

“Hey, squirt!” you grinned. Gertie let go of you, her little face beaming up at you.

“I have sooo much stuff to show you,” Gertie started rambling, not letting go of you. “I have a new game where you have to collect cards that are all pictures of boogers and Mom said we can make a cake or if not a cake then cookies.”

It was all one run-on sentence, but you thought you got the gist of it. Booger game. Baking a cake. Maybe cookies.

“That sounds awesome,” you replied, squeezing the little girl again. “I can’t wait.”

“Gertie,” Bess said, standing up and moving towards you, “give our guests a second to arrive, okay?” Gertie let go of you, reluctantly, and you and Bess hugged.

“It’s all good,” you said, pinching some of the girl’s hair between your fingers. “Me and the Gertster just have big plans.”

You heard Dean and Garth walk up behind you. Gertie shyly waved at Dean.

“We have the guest room downstairs made up for you,” Bess said, after also giving Dean a quick hug. “You guys wanna settle in first?” You looked down at Gertie.

“Dean can take the bags,” you said, throwing him a look over your shoulder. “I’m dying to see that booger game.”

Dean was back twenty minutes later while you were just laughing uproariously at one of the cartoon booger pictures Gertie was showing you.

“That is vile,” you said, making a face. Gertie was giggling like crazy and a rush of love for her went through you. Garth was putting the twins down for a nap and Bess was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. You showed Dean the card.

“Look at that,” you said, shaking your head. “Where was this kind of premium entertainment when we were young?” Dean chuckled, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

“No idea,” he said, “but I had an Etch-A-Sketch and I was freakin’ Michelangelo on that thing.” Gertie’s eyes went tide.

“You’re not supposed to say the f-word,” she lectured him. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Uhm” he said, but Gertie was already distracted. Looking at you, she said: “I’m gonna ask Mom if we can make the cake, okay, BFA?” You nodded.

“You do that, booger,” you said and Gertie ran off.

“BFA?” Dean asked, while you were putting together the game, putting it back into its box. “What does that mean?” You shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Only means best friend aunt,” you said, throwing Dean a look out of the corner of your eyes.

“Really?” he said, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” you replied, pushing yourself up from where you were squished between the couch and the small table you had been playing on.

“She christened me the last time I was here. But don’t be jealous.” You walked closer to Dean, and as he was raising one of his hands you held it. “I can have two best friends at the same time. I can be your…”

You thought for a second. “BFGF?” you asked. “Best friend girlfriend?” Dean chuckled.

“Sounds like a Bee Gees cover band,” he said and you grinned.

He raised his chin, looking up at you and you leaned down, kissed him.

“Gertie’s crazy about you,” Dean said when you separated. You sat on the arm of the chair, Dean’s arm going around you.

“Can’t say I blame her,” he added, petting your thigh.

“She’s got good taste, is all,” you said, leaning into him.

You were both quiet for a second, simply watching the sunrays falling through the window play across the wall of family photos, the reassuring sound of cars and people somewhere outside, Gertie’s excited voice in the kitchen.

“Would you ever want something like this?” Dean asked, not looking at you. You turned your head to him.

“Like what?” you asked. Dean shrugged, trying to look non-committal but you knew him well enough to recognize the seriousness on his face.

“This,” he said, using the hand that wasn’t around you to motion to the room you were in. “A house, mortgage, couple of kids.” He squeezed your leg where he was holding it.

“A handsome husband who’s an incredible lover,” he added, with a grin. You grimaced.

“Where do I find one of those?” you asked.

“Hey,” Dean said, squeezing again. You chuckled and he finally looked up at you.

“I don’t know,” you said slowly. “I guess I never really thought it would be an option. Not with hunting.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, absentmindedly running his hand over your leg. “We would have to get out of that first.”

You felt yourself tense a little. When had this gone from a would you to a we would?

“Do you want this?” you asked, your voice maybe sounding a little skeptical. “That would mean no more late nights at bars with no responsibility, no driving across the country,” you said. “Well, at least not as much of it. Plus diapers, and stuff.” Dean raised his free hand.

“Babies,” he said, like he was about to start a lecture, “are a lot like cars.”

“Oh, here we go,” you said, unable to suppress a grin.

“I’m just saying,” Dean continued, “there’s a logic, a system to how they work.”

“No,” you snorted, “babies are the exact opposite of that.” Dean shrugged.

“We’d figure it out,” he said and you tried not to get hung up on the we, but then Dean was looking up at you, catching your gaze.

“I could imagine doing it with you,” he said, his voice a little quieter.

You felt a shiver run over you. This was not the direction you had expected this little exchange to go. As if sensing the serious turn the conversation had taken, Gertie burst back into the room.

“We can bake cookies,” she said, a little out of breath and you just wanted to squish her. When she saw Dean’s arm around you, she wrinkled her nose.

“Eeew,” she said, “are you two cuddling?” Dean put his other arm around you too.

“You best believe we are,” he said and then, in a quieter, more theatrical tone: “And I might even kiss her later.”

You started laughing while Gertie ran from the room, screaming to the high heavens.

You were pretty sure you were going to find flour on your clothes and hair for a week when you all finally sat down for dinner, but there was a beautiful batch of rainbow sprinkle cookies cooling in the kitchen. Bess was a great cook, considering she and Garth mostly ate cow hearts, and you were all chatting away, Gertie proudly narrating her baking misadventures while the twins sat in their high chairs.

As you were getting up to collect the empty plates, Garth was just holding baby Sam when baby Cas knocked over his feeding bottle, sending juice flying everywhere.

“Oh muck,” Garth exclaimed. He was standing closest to Dean, so he turned around, quickly depositing the baby in his arms.

“Hold him for a second?” he asked. You pressed your lips together. You’d never seen Dean interact with a baby, but you were pretty sure he would hand the kid back as quickly as possible to Bess or Garth or even Gertie if he had to.

You put the plates in the sink, started running the water but then Bess was shooing you away, telling you no guest of hers would ever be doing the dishes. When you returned to the table you looked back at Dean and the toddler.

Instead of the panic and discomfort you were expecting in his eyes, he was looking down at baby Sam, quietly talking to him while letting him play with his finger. You felt a breath catch in your throat and saw that Dean was gently bouncing him on his leg.

“Wow,” you said, feeling a smile creep to your lips. “You’re good at that.” Dean looked at you, raising his eyebrows and grinning a little.

“I’m full of surprises, darlin’,” he said.

“I’ll say,” you replied, sitting down, Gertie pushing some wax crayons your way to help you with a picture she was drawing, but your eyes were caught on Dean.

“Sammy always got fidgety after dinner,” he said, then added: “The other Sammy, I mean.” You smiled, but you felt a little pinch in your heart.

Of course you always knew that Dean had essentially raised his little brother, their mother being dead and father barely around. You felt a little bad and a little naïve for thinking Dean wouldn’t be good at this.

It broke your heart, the circumstances under which he’d had to learn to be good at it, but it also filled you with love. Dean never gave his sweet, caring side enough credit, like it was something he needed to hide from the world. It had become your life’s mission to show him that he didn’t need to. Maybe it was closer to the surface than you’d thought.

“Alright,” Garth said, coming back from his clean-up mission. “Let me take this little goober off your hands.”

With that, he picked up Sam. You saw Dean looking after the two, father and son, a small smile on his face.

He caught your eye then, and you held his gaze, at least until Gertie tapped on your elbow, asking you to draw a tree.

The kids put to bed, you, Dean, Bess and Garth had sat around, chatting a little, but soon gone to bed. It was earlier than your usually bedtime, and much earlier than Dean’s, but as you climbed onto the creaking basement room pull-out couch, you couldn’t have been happier.

Dean tucked himself in behind you, one arm under your pillow, the other slung tightly around you. You stroked his hand, staring off into the near perfect darkness of the room, listening to the unfamiliar sounds the house was making.

“I could imagine doing it with you, too,” you said, quietly. You couldn’t feel Dean move and you wondered if he had already fallen asleep, but then you heard the rustling of the sheets, felt the movement of his head right behind yours, heard him breathe out of rhythm.

Also, you weren’t sure if he had understood what you meant, if that sentence had stuck as much in his head as it had in yours.

“Really?” he finally asked, also quietly, as if he was worried to say it out loud to the room.

You turned yourself around a little, because although you couldn’t really see him, you wanted to face him.

“Really,” you said. He had raised his head, was looking down at you and you could feel his warm breath on your face, smell his toothpaste.

“What would that mean?” Dean asked. He wasn’t one to get hung up on logistics, but he knew as well as you that you didn’t have the luxury of simply putting a child out into the world without first thinking about exactly what meant for the way you were living. You shrugged.

“I don’t know,” you answered, and it was the truth. You had no idea what that would mean, and it was hurting your head to even think about how much would need to change first for this to make sense.

“We’d figure it out, I guess,” you added. You felt Dean nod in the dark and then you felt him moving closer to you, the arm that had been around you running down over your hips and then to your thighs.

“Maybe we should already get some practice in,” he said, and you knew exactly what that tone he was saying it with meant. You grinned, lifting your head up to catch his lips as you gently kissed.

“I don’t really think that much practice is necessary, it’s pretty basic stuff,” you said, and then cupped Dean’s face, feeling the smile there.

“But better to be safe than sorry,” you continued, as you pulled him in.

The next morning, you were getting ready to leave. You’d volunteered for coffee duty, and were just pouring some into a large thermos when Dean’s arms wrapped around you, his face going to your neck as he hugged you hard. You giggled, trying not to spill any coffee. Dean’s hands were running over you, and stopped at your belly.

“I can already imagine how sexy you'd look pregnant,” he mumbled to you.

“Jesus, Dean,” you giggled, writhing out of his hold to put the thermos on the table together with your other stuff.

“It’s 9 AM, baby,” you said with an unbelieving smile, as you turned around to him. Dean grinned.

“Well,” he said, “it’s the truth.”

Just then the Fitzgeralds, all five of them, came in, there to accompany you both to the front door.

Gertie shed a couple of tears when she finally had to let you go, and you promised that you would call her from the bunker.

She looked up at her father, sadness in her face as Garth laid his hand on her head, and said, with utmost pity: “Do you know that she has to hang out with three boys all the time?”

“That’s why it’s so important for me to have cool friends like you,” you said, leaning down to hug her one more time. “To balance out all the boy stuff.”

After Dean finally escaped Garth’s arms you were both walking down to the Impala. You put your bags in the trunk and then waved again once you were sitting in the front. You took a sip of the coffee as Dean started the car. You were quiet for a few minutes, just looking at the road.

“So was that just momentary madness last night,” you asked after a few miles, “or do you really want to have kids?” Dean looked at you sideways in that playboy way he did.

“I’m pretty sure I counted you having three momentary madnesses,” he said. In response, a loud pfff left you and you slapped his arm, making Dean laugh, but then you laid your hand on his knee.

“I was being serious,” he finally said, concentrating on the road. “Were you being serious?”

You thought for a second, looking at Dean. Imagining what he could be like with his own children. You wondered how that would change him, what it would do to him. You wanted to find out.

“I was,” you replied. Dean let his right hand drop to your one on his leg, holding it.

“Okay,” he said, “then we’ll talk about it.”

“Sounds good,” you said. He looked over at you, and letting go of your hand, waved you over with two fingers. You scooted over while he was looking at the road again, kissed him as much as it was possible with his face turned sideways. Then he held your hand again.

You turned yourself around a little, looking at the backseat.

“Do they do baby seats for Chevys?” you asked, wrinkling your brow. Dean raised his eyebrows, also briefly looking back. He inclined his head when he looked out front again.

“We can get a van,” he said, and then quickly added: “Additionally, of course. This one needs to stay around.” He patted the stirring wheel and nodded. “It’s a good car to learn how to drive in.”

What he said tugged at your heart. The idea was too lovely, too sweet.

Dean looked over, and maybe he saw that your eyes were a little misty.

He let go of your hand again, and instead laid his arm over the back of the bench. You moved closer to him, leaning against his shoulders.

“That sounds really nice,” you said, in a quiet voice, and then you were both looking ahead, at whatever was in front of you. 

[keferon]

Inspired by the ask about Ratchets “How to hold a human class”

———————————————————————

“Kid! C’mere!”

Deadlock twitched a finial in Ratchets direction. He wasn’t quite ready to stop sulking contemplating by his spot next to the pond but Deadlock also didn’t want Ratchet to yell at him again.

Actually yell at him.

Deadlock hadn’t meant to piss the medic off, he was actually trying to help in the moment. Ratchet said he needed to get something on the catwalk so Deadlock did the natural thing and grabbed Ratchets arm to put him up there. He’d barely lifted him off the ground when Deadlock felt the shock of pain shoot through Ratchets field a split second before he shouted in pain. He immediately let go which resulted in Ratchet landing hard on his hip.

After which Ratchet flew into one of the most genuinely angry rages he’d ever seen. He’d called Deadlock every variation of “reckless” and “irresponsible” imaginable. Any thought of justifying himself withered under not so much Ratchets scolding, as the faint feeling of pain and concern that bled through the rage like a new layer of paint slapped on before the first layer could dry.

Deadlock retreated into himself and fled the hangar. Flipping endlessly between “I didn’t mean to!” and “That doesn’t matter slaghead!” Through his mind and the night.

It was morning, and Deadlock was determined not to be a coward at the very least. Whatever punishment Ratchet had decided on Deadlock would respect. Even if it was something as spark crushing as “leave and don’t come back.”

Deadlock followed Ratchet, who was favoring his right hip, back to the hangar. Deadlock kneeled and waited for his sentence.

“Okay. We’re gonna go over some ground rules and basic human anatomy so what happened yesterday doesn’t happen again.”

Deadlock’s finials popped straight up. His mouth open to say something but nothing came to fruition.

Ratchet waved his hand through the air, “You didn’t know and you didn’t mean it. We both know it was an accident but if you really want to make it up to me then pay attention.”

Deadlock closed his mouth and nodded quickly.

“Good. Now gimme your hand.”

Deadlock complied, keeping his hand lax as Ratchet manipulated it to wrap it around his arm the same way from yesterday.

“Okay, don’t do anything yet but explain to me why you grabbed me this way.”

Deadlock cycled his optics for a second while he thought.

“Cause your arm is a convenient handle?”

Ratchet breathed out his nose slowly.

“And do normally pick up other mechs that way?”

“Yes?” Sort of. Deadlock didn’t really interact with minicons. Or maybe they just avoided him.

“This makes more sense then.” Ratchet said, swinging his arm and Deadlocks hand slightly.

“Metal can take that kind of torque without easily bending or tearing . Humans are not made of freakin metal kid. We’re a lot of soft tissue wrapped around a hard skeleton. The skeleton is basically a bunch of individual struts held together by soft connective tissue. That tissue is normally pretty strong when it’s pulled the normal way.”

Ratchet leaned slightly in Deadlocks grip, “This. Concentrates all of that weight into a single joint. Now technically, my shoulder can hold my entire weight but not at such a sharp angle to my body.”

Ratchet removed his arm and began to reposition Deadlocks hand to lay flat and palm up.

Ratchet pointed at Deadlock with an accusatory finger. “Rule Number One: Always fucking ask for permission first!”

Ratchet turned and sat on his hand, scooting backwards until his back rested against Drifts thumb. “If you do need to lift a human, best option by far is just holding your hand steady and letting them climb on.”

Deadlock shifted his hand to more comfortably hold the medic. Ratchet was both squishier than he was expecting and more solid. The sensation kind of reminded him of a big warm gel packet. “I think I’m getting the picture. So what should I do if I don’t have time to ask or you can’t answer?”

Ratchet sighed and Deadlock could actually feel him deflate. His face twitched in barely restrained amusement. Ratchets face twitched in the exact opposite of amusement.

“Pick up humans around the center of mass as much as you can. Try not to pick them up by the limbs. Do not ever pick one up by the head or neck.”

Ratchet shuffled in his grip, and maneuvered Deadlocks fingers to wrap around his torso while keeping his arms free. “Now, very slowly. I want you to gently tighten your grip. Stop the second I tell you to. Got it kid?”

Deadlock’s processor glitched for a second. Logically, he understood what Ratchet was teaching him. How and why. But. He’d just hurt him. And not only had Ratchet put himself back into Deadlocks grip of his own volition. Ratchet was specifically putting himself in an even more vulnerable state then almost loosing a limb. Deadlock didn’t even feel a hint of fear in his field. All he could feel was Trust and Patience and Care, as if Deadlock was the one putting his literal life in someone else’s hands.

“Got it Ratch.” His vocalizer came out staticky.

Deadlock closed his grip at a glacial pace, there was much more give than he was expecting so it caught him off guard when Ratchet finally said “Stop.” Deadlock froze.

“This is about how far you can go before it gets uncomfortable.” Deadlock’s processor skipped again, because holy Primus that was almost no effort whatsoever. Good to know how close he came to maiming him yesterday.

“Start again.”

What?

“What?”

“There’s a lot of give between comfortable and painful. I want you to have a frame of reference for both. I’m going to stop you before anything gets damaged kid, trust me.”

Slowly, Deadlock increased his grip again. It took about another minute before Ratchet stopped him again.

He breathed out in a controlled wheeze, Deadlock could feel Ratchets pulse against his palm, only marginally faster then when they started. “And that’s the upper limit. Don’t do this shit unless you need to.”

Deadlock relaxed his grip and Ratchet slipped off his hand.

The medic took a minute to breath and roll his shoulders.

Then, Ratchet laid down on the ground.

“Okay. Final exam. I’m going to pretend to be unconscious and you’re going to pick me up.”

Deadlock actually did start laughing at that point. Starting as silent shaking and then slowly building into not-quite villainous cackling. There was just something so absurd about the situation that all the tension from the preceding day unraveled until Deadlock was also lying on the ground. Vents whining and vocalizer mostly static by the time he started to calm down again.

Ratchet had sat up and was calmly watching him. The only physical tell Deadlock could see was a faint twitch of Ratchets mouth resisting the urge to smile. But Ratchets field radiated Fondness.

“You supposed to make that noise?”

Deadlock reset his vocalizer, “Yeah, it’s just been a long time. Are you ready?” He said rising up on his elbows.

Ratchet flopped down again.

“You’ve got ten minutes and you aren’t allowed to drop me.”

Deadlock grinned like a menace, and wondered if he could talk Ratchet into any extra credit classes.

AHW THIS IS SO LYLHKGKGNH DEADLOCK COMPARING HUMAN BODY TO A GEL PACKET HE LP

[devsblurbs]

Sex Pollen — B . Blake

Summary – Reader and Bellamy have always hated each other, from the moment the ship landed they were constantly at each others throats. Clarke having had enough of it for the evening, sends them away to go cover some more ground outside of the camp. They come across a clearing of some flowers, but they aren’t normal flowers, and the pollen does something to them.

Warnings - 18+ MDNI , smut , unprotected sex , oral ( f received ) , degrading , use of praise , strong language , some angst , choking , biting

Word count - 5.6k

The chilled air of the evening hummed with tension, it hung in the air heavily, like a weight crushing everyone around down into the soil. Y/n and Bellamy stood in the center of their little camp, the campfire’s embers crackling in the background, a soft contrast to their raised voices

Everyone around knew not to get involved or get into the middle of it when they were fighting, it was futile. From the moment they had landed, those two had been at eachothers throats. They couldn’t be around one another for more than a few seconds without some kind of argument following.

She hated the way Bellamy thought he was better than everyone else, and even more so she hated that he was rash and always thought he was right. No one ever really questioned him, except for her. He hated how stubborn she was, how she could never just listen to what he had to say. She always had some sort of snarky remake to fire back, she simply could never leave anything he said alone.

Most of the time Y/n had a fair point, she was more strategic with her plans. She took the little details into consideration, while Bellamy didn’t, but god forbid she try to tell him he’s wrong.

“You think your way is always the right one, don’t you?” Y/n said to him, her fists clenched tightly to her sides.

They had been going for the past half an hour, back and forth about some plan Bellamy had thrown together, and when Y/n caught wind of it, and its recklessness she couldn’t stop herself from saying something to him.

“And you think your plans are any better?” He practically spat out her, his tone laced with annoyance.

She simply laughed, causing a confused expression to quickly flash across his features. probably wondering in his head what the hell she found so funny, as if reading his mind she was quick to answer that question.

“Not that you’d ever admit it, but do you realize how many times me interjecting has saved your ass, or saved the whole camp the trouble of your half assed plan going backwards. You never take the whole picture into consideration!”

God she sure knew how to push his buttons, how dare she stand her and yell at him like that. Right before he could fire back, Clarke, who had been watching silently with crossed arms, finally stepped forward clearly having enough of the two’s screaming match.

“Enough!” Clarke snapped, the two of them turned towards her slightly startled but both still blistering with rage.

“I’m sick and tired of listening to you two screaming at eachother,” She huffed out, “Go out there.” She gestured toward the dense forest beyond the camp, leaving the two to look at her like she was insane.

Y/n scoffed, glaring at Bellamy before returning her gaze to Clarke. “You’ve got to be out of your mind-” Before Y/n could continue, Clarke shut it down, interjecting, “Frankly, I don’t give a shit right now. Just go survey the area, or kill each other, I don’t care which. I’m done listening to your guys bickering for tonight.”

They both weren’t amused by this, but they also knew it wasn’t worth arguing. The faster they left, the faster they could come back and go their separate ways.

Both still simmering with frustration and anger, they grabbed guns and headed for the gates of their little camp, heading out. The silence was tense and eerie as the trees swallowed them whole, not bothering to spare each other a glance, let alone waste air talking.

Bellamy and Y/n trudged through the dense forest, their footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves and snapping twigs, guns slung over both of their shoulders, scowls resting on their faces clearly not amused with the task at hand.The tension between them lingered in the air like a storm cloud though neither had spoken since leaving the camp.

Branches reached out like skeletal fingers, brushing against their arms as the canopy above darkened, and the temperature steadily dropped. They swayed in the light breeze, moving back and forth as to come out and grab onto them. The forest grew quieter, save for the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

Looking around cautiously, her foot tripped over a tree stump, she was quick to catch herself, mumbling under her breath about how this whole thing was stupid. As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough, he just had to speak up.

“Watch your step.” He muttered, much to her dismay breaking the silence that settled over them.

She scoffed but didn’t respond, she wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit, and now too focused on the uneven terrain, now determined not to trip again, she refused to give him another reason to criticize her.

After more trudging through the thick woods, they emerged from the dense eerie trees into a clearing, the sight causing both of them to freeze right in their tracks.

Under the pale glow of the moonlight, the clearing unfolded like something out of a dream– or a nightmare. Hundreds of flowers blanketed the ground, the petals shimmering faintly, glowing almost as the moonlight hit them. They ranged from light blues, to violets, and pinks, their colors shifting with each movement of air hitting them.

The silence was heavier, almost sacred. Even the crickets and birds seemed to have fallen silent, leaving only the soft whisper of the breeze.

“Y/n..” He finally spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “What the hell is this place?”

It was clear he was feeling uneasy, nervous almost. A feeling settled into his gut, something telling him that they shouldn’t be there.

She stepped forward more towards the flowers, her boots brushing against the edge of them, “I don’t know.. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

He followed closely behind her, as they moved deeper into the clearing the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a gut wrenching feeling creeping up his spine. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t natural.

“This doesn’t feel right,” he muttered, the heavy air weighing down his chest.

She crouched down to touch one of the flowers, the petals silky and cold against her slender fingers, but there was something strange about them.

“They look like they’re glowing.” She whispered, staring deeply at them, she was almost mesmerized. She knew they weren't normal, but she wasn’t as skeptical of them as Bellamy was.

His Gaze darted around the clearing, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his knife, “We shouldn’t be here, this place.. It’s not natural.”

She straightened up, her eyes narrowing at him, of course he’d find a way to try to ruin something beautiful.

“You’re paranoid, they’re just flowers. Not everything is out to kill us, Bellamy.”

He simply scoffed, “Really? Because from the moment we’ve landed, a lot of strange shit has happened.”

She went to argue back, but shut her mouth, she couldn’t really argue with that. They’ve run into so many issues, and dangerous things from the moment their feet planted onto the soil. Silence overtook them again, her eyes scanning over the flowers, all shining in the faint glow of the moon casting down from the opening in the trees above them. Her skin raised with goosebumps as the cold air nipped at her.

“I don’t know, they’re strangely beautiful..” She spoke softly, a side of her Bellamy never got to hear, it was foreign to his ears.

The breeze picked up causing her to shiver a bit, the flowers swaying more and more. She watched them move, they almost danced to a silent melody as they moved, it was almost hypnotic. Her usual rough piercing gaze was replaced by one of awe, as she stared at them.

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous though.” He said, his eyes still cautiously looking around. Before he could speak again, a gust of wind swept through the clearing, the flowers swayed violently, a stark contrast to the melodic moving they once did, as they moved a shimmering cloud of pollen filled the air around them. The golden particles sparkled in the moonlight, almost like tiny floating stars as it invaded their lungs.

“What the hell..” He was quick to cover his mouth and nose with his arm, in an attempt to not breathe in any more of the pollen.

She staggered backwards a bit, coughing as the pollen swirled around them, it seemed to cling to the air, invasive and inescapable, its presence unerringly warm in the cold of the night.

“Don’t.. breathe it in,” He said between coughs, though it was already far too late for that. The shimmering pollen seemed to settle over everything–the flowers, their clothes, their skin. It lingered in the air for a moment longer before finally disappearing.

She finally straightened up, running her fingers through her hair, and taking deep, but cautious breaths. “What the fuck was that..” She murmured trying to wrap her head around what the hell just transpired.

He doubled over, his hands on his knees, panting slightly, as he attempted to catch his breath, “I have no idea, but that wasn’t normal.”

His heart beat quickly, irregularly the world swaying a bit as he stayed there. When he finally caught his breath and stood up, his skin was covered with a dull sense of pins and needles, a slight bit of sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cold air, glistening in the dull light cast over by the moon.

She didn’t realize that she had been staring, until she looked away, her own body feeling uneasy. Her legs are almost weak, and her heart erratic.

“I feel weird..” She spoke, her voice slightly hoarse, a lump almost lodged in her throat. Bellamy only nodded, his gaze burning into her as she spoke.

Her voice sounded melodic to him, which was a contrast from the usual annoyance he got from it. But right in this moment, it was alluring and it was pulling him in.

His nerves in his body felt like they were igniting, a match catching them on fire, his breaths staggered, his body warm. Her eyes made their way back to his figure, focusing on the way his chest heaved, the way his skin glowed under the light. As much as she wanted to look away, something was stopping her.

“Bell..” She murmured, her lips parted slightly, wiping some of the sweat away from her forehead.

He almost growled at the sound of his name leaving her lips, it sounded so pretty to him, it made his heart race even more if that was possible. The world around him felt so distant, the glow of the flowers blurring into a soft, otherworldly light. The only thing either of them could focus on was the pull–an invisible force drawing them together, insistent, and undeniable.

He didn’t answer, his dark eyes locked onto hers as his chest moved with each ragged breath he took. The usual frustration and anger he held was replaced with something deeper, something almost primal. His body felt like it was no longer his own, every instinct screaming at him to get closer to her.

He took a step forward, and Y/n didn’t move away. Her body mirrored his, leaning closer even as her mind struggled to catch up. As he stood in front of her, and her eyes stared up into his, he snapped.

The tension between them too strong, his hands gripped her arms, his touch firm and desperate as he pulled her to him, chest to chest, his touch on her arms setting her mind into overdrive, her skin on fire with just the slightest touch. Before she could react any further, his lips crashed onto hers, capturing her into a rough and demanding kiss.

She gasped against his lips, her hands instinctively gripping his shirt as her body betrayed her. The heat in both of their veins intensified with every second, and she found herself desperately pressing into him, her own desperation matching his.

The kiss was fierce and unrelenting, a collision of all the bottled up emotions between them. All the anger, all the frustration being taken out with it. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them.

She finally pulled away, almost regretting it, her lips swollen and aching for his as soon as they left.

“Bellamy..” She whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

His forehead was pressed against hers, his breaths heavy and uneven. “I don’t know what's happening,” he admitted, his voice raw, “But I can’t–”

She silenced him by pulling him back down, her lips finding his again with just as much urgency. It was like the pollen from the flowers was messing with them, igniting all the nerves in their bodies and igniting something animalistic. As their lips battled against one another, his hands roamed up her back, until one settled onto the back of her neck pushing her more into him, deepening the kiss, while her hands roamed up his chest, one landing in his hair tugging at it.

He was the one that pulled away this time panting harshly, something dark behind his brown eyes. His eyes bore into hers, his hair disheveled, he was staring at her like she was his prey.

“Y/n..” He groaned out, his voice breaking almost.

His hand moved slowly from the back of her neck to her neck to her face, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Gotta stop.. I keep going, I won't be able to.” He said breathlessly, though he said that, his mind was silently pleading her to tell him to keep going.

Her own body felt the pull between them, it was a relentless force, everything in her yearned for more, screamed at her to pull him back in. She looked up at him with half lidded eyes, “Please don’t..” It came out meekly, like some sort of plea, differently from her usual firecracker persona.

Those words, the way she said them drove him up the wall. The way her lips were swollen, face flushed, how her voice trembled, her thighs pressed together needily. She made it clear that she didn’t want him to stop, so he wasn’t going too.

Bellamy moved his hand from her face to her neck, squeezing roughly, pulling a whine from her lips. He almost groaned at that, the way it sounded leaving her lips was like heaven. He pulled her back in, kissing her just as fiercely as before, this time with no intent of holding back and stopping. The kiss was needy, hungry, fed by the relentless desire that they both had settled into them.

When he finally pulled away, it was to pull her down onto the soft soil, the earth cool against her overheated skin. Before she could complain, his lips were all over her neck, sloppily kissing, and nipping all over. She panted softly, back arching off the ground, her hips brushing against his, bringing a groan past his lips and sending a vibration through her skin. He used one of his hands to push her hips down into the ground, firmly holding her in place. Everything in him screamed to just take her right then and there, but not yet, he wanted to have his fun with her first.

“Patience, love..” His voice was rough and low as he spoke into her ear, her thighs squeezing together in an attempt to feel something, anything. His touch was driving her up the wall, she was filled with need for him, and him alone.

His lips went back to her neck, brushing against all her sensitive spots, but when they hit a particular spot that caused her to squirm under him, he bit down. It sent a jolt of stinging pleasure through her body, causing her to gasp.

“Bell..” She whispered out, need lacing her voice.

He hummed against her skin as he worked his way down to her collar bone, leaving sloppy kisses and purple bruises as he continued down his path, his hands now messing with the hem of her shirt. It wasn’t long before he was sliding it off her body, tossing it somewhere next to them on the ground. He stared at her bare chest under the light of the moon in awe, taking her in.

“So fuckin’ pretty..” His voice barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning over her, her chest rising and falling harshly.

He leaned back down, kissing down her chest, his hands moving to cup her breasts, kneading them between his fingers softly, in almost a teasing manner.

“Bell, please..” She whined out, her hands running through his hair.

This brought a smirk to his lips, hearing her all desperate for him. His lips moved over, his tongue trailing against her nipple, as his fingers played with the other. He took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud as she whimpered beneath him. He then pulled away rather abruptly, leaving her breathless and almost trembling beneath him. The sudden loss of his touch sent a wave of frustration through her, a soft needy whine escaping her lips, her body arching towards him instinctively.

Her cheeks burned, but the heat pooling in her stomach only grew as he took his time with her. His hands slowly moved down her sides, his calloused fingers grazing over her sensitive skin, sending shivers racing through her body. He looked at her, his eyes darkened with lust, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants, tugging them down, before throwing them off to the side. He once again stared in awe, looking at her fully exposed beneath him, his jeans tightening around him. Her hands lifted up, sliding under his shirt wanting to touch him too. He took the hint, sliding his shirt off, letting it join the growing pile of clothes. She bit her lip as her fingers traced over her his skin, his toned body glistening with sweat.

“Like what you see?” He grinned softly as she stared up at him like he was some sort of god.

She hummed, lost in a daze as her eyes trailed over him, too lost in taking him in to realize that he was now kneeling in between her thighs. Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned his face in, his lips brushing against the inner part of her thighs, his broad shoulders keeping her legs apart. His gaze swept over her, and the intensity in his eyes made her squirm beneath him. He kissed her thighs softly at first, peppering them all over, but as he went the kisses got sloppy, needy almost.

“Bellamy–” She started, her voice trembling, but whatever she was about to say was lost in a loud gasp as his teeth sunk into the soft flesh.

The bite wasn’t gentle, it was rough, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. Her hips jerked a sharp whimper escaping her lips as her hands moved to his hair tugging at his messy curls.

He chuckled darkly against her skin, his breath hot as he trailed kisses and bites along the inner part of her thighs, alternating between soft and harsh. Each scrape of his teeth sent a jolt of heat straight to her core, leaving her writhing and breathless. She couldn’t stop herself from squirming, her body reacting to every touch, everybite. Her legs trembled, but his hands kept her firmly in place, his grip strong and unyielding as he pushed her hips into the ground beneath them.

“Stay still.” He growled out, his voice thick with warning, and the sound sent another shiver racing through her.

Her head fell back against the ground, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she tried to obey, but it was an impossible feat. The ache inside her was unbearable, her body desperate for him, wanting nothing but his touch.

“Please..” She whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

He paused, his lips hovering just barely above her skin, his hot breath fanning over her. His eyes trailed up, and his gaze met hers through his messy curls. The smirk that spread across his lips was both infuriating and intoxicating to her.

“So desperate,” He teased, his tone laced with satisfaction, he did this to her, he was making her fall apart with his touch.

She bit her lip again, her cheeks flushing even deeper, sweat coating her forehead. She didn’t have the energy to argue, or to put up a fight, not with the way his touch was driving her up the wall with pleasure.

His lips hovered over her thighs, close enough to where she could feel the heat of his breath, but far enough to drive her crazy. Her body was trembling, every nerve ending screaming for more, her body on fire, craving him more and more with every touch, but he just smirked at her dragging out the moment.

“Bellamy, please,” She whimpered, her voice practically breaking with desperation. Her hips jerked up toward him, but his strong hands held her firmly in place.

“Not good enough,” He murmured, his voice dark and teasing, “Want me to make you feel good hm, Princess? Beg for me then.”

Her eyes were locked onto his, a mixture of frustration and yearning behind them, she clenched her fists, her nails digging into the soil beneath her, her body in overdrive, desperate for any kind of friction. He leaned into her, his lips brushing over the spot where she needed him most, but not quite giving her what she needed. That’s what broke her, her eyes pleading with him.

“Please, Bell,” She begged, her voice breaking with every word she spoke. “I need you, I–” She let out a shuddering breath, her head falling back onto the ground. “Please, just do something, I need you.” Her voice was filled with desperation, as her body ached for more.

His smirk widened, satisfaction glinting in his dark eyes. “That’s more like it,” He muttered,and without another word he gave in.

He lowered his head between her thighs, burying his face in between them, his mouth working against her with skill and intensity that had her crying out. The first touch of his tongue dragging up against her clit sent a jolt of electricity through her body, her back arching off the ground, as her hands tugged at his messy hair. He had barely started, but her body was on fire, her mind clouded over as he finally was giving her what she craved.

“Bell!” She gasped, her voice breaking into a cry as he pressed into her more, his tongue and lips moving in a perfectly deveasting rhythm.

Her nails dug into his scalp, but it only seemed to spur him on further. His grip on her thighs tightened, sure enough that there would be fresh bruises there the next day to accompany the purple marks his lips left everywhere earlier. As he gripped her his tongue swirled and flicked around in ways that made her see stars. The sounds she made were desperate, unrestrained, they only fueled him to push her closer to the edge.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He mumbled, as his mouth worked at her, sending the vibrations straight to her core.

Her world narrowed to the feeling of his mouth on her, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming sensation that was pulling her apart piece by piece. Her cries grew louder, her breaths even more erratic than before as her body tightened and trembled against his every touch.

“Bellamy, I–I can’t–” She stammered, but he was relentless, it only drove him to go faster.

His tongue kept working against her, her cries like a melody to his ears. It wasn't until he slipped two fingers in, that she practically yelled out his name. His fingers working with his mouth in harmony, has her eyes rolling back, a wave of pleasure rolling over her. Her body shook, her fingers tugging at his hair roughly as she fell apart beneath him. The way she gasped his name, raw and unfiltered, sent a jolly of satisfaction through him. He didn’t stop, he didn’t let up, his mouth working relentlessly as he let her ride out her high.

Her vision was hazy as the pleasure overwhelmed her, she couldn’t think, couldn't breathe properly, she could only feel.

Finally, as her body calmed down, and her trembling slowed a bit, he slowed his movements. Pulling out his fingers slowly, pressing one last gentle kiss to her thigh. His face covered in her slick, he licked his fingers, cleaning them off, savoring every last bit of her taste.

He had wasted enough time, he was done holding back now. Satisfied with the way he had her falling apart from just his tongue and his fingers, he stood up for a second, making quick work of pulling his jeans off, throwing them to the side. She couldn’t help the way her eyes roamed over him, even as her body trembled from the aftermath of his mouth. His body glistening with sweat, his large cock out for her to see.

He was back on her in an instant, caging her beneath him, as his weight pressed her into the soft earth. His lips found her neck again, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed her body possessively, making sure to leave no inch untouched. The heat radiating between them was unbearable, the pull was impossible to resist.

“You want this?” He growled against her ear, his voice rough and laced with need. His teeth grazed her earlobe, sending another shivering rushing through her, “Hmm, say it.. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you.”

She could barely form any words, her breath hitching as his body arched into his, “I do yes..” She managed to stammer out, her voice barely audible.

He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I don’t think I’m very convinced.”

She groaned out, her hips desperately trying to rub against his, “Please, god, Bell.. I want you to fuck me, please I need you.”

The desperation and need in voice was enough for him, he didn’t bother demanding her try to convince him anymore, truth be told he couldn’t wait any longer. The flowers had them both too far gone, their minds clouded, their bodies screaming for more. He positioned himself, his hands gripping her hips tightly, and without warning, his hips snapped into hers with a force that knocked the air from her lungs.

A sharp cry escaped her lips, her nails digging into his shoulder as his hips slammed against hers in a rough, relentless rhythm. He set a punishing pace, every movement filled with raw, and unrestrained need.

“Fuck, princess.. Taking me so well, this pussy was made for me.” He groaned out, his pace never faltering as he rocked his hips into hers.

He cursed under his breath as he kept up his pace, his breath hot against her ear as his hands tightened on her hips pulling her closer with each harsh thrust. The sound of her moans and cries along with the sound of their bodies colliding echoed around them, mixing with the faint rustle of the flowers swaying in the breeze. The pollen still hung thick in the air, amplifying every sensation, every touch, they were both mad with lust.

She felt like she was on fire, her body hypersensitive to every thrust of his hips, every sound that drew from his lips, every glance.

His head fell into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he muttered things under his breath, his voice was raw and broken. His rhythm didn't falter, each thrust hitting deeper, harder than the last, as if he couldn’t get enough for her. His body claiming every inch of hers, trapping her beneath him as to say that she was his and his alone.

Her cries only grew louder, her hands grasping and scratching at him as she tried to ground herself. But she couldn’t, it felt too good, he had her screaming out his name in pleasure.

“What is it, pretty girl? Can’t handle me?” He chuckled darkly against her neck,but he didn’t slow his pace, he kept pounding into her like his life depended on it.

The flowers had stripped them of every barrier, every ounce of control, leaving nothing but a primal need. They were lost in eachother, consumed by the heat, the desperation, the overwhelming desire that neither of them could fight.

His soft growls filled her ears, rough and low, as she trembled beneath him, her moans spilling from her lips with no hesitation. Her nails raked along his sweat-slicked back as he drove into her roughly.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” He spoke into her ear softly, his voice thick with desire. His eyes flickered down to meet hers, and the way she looked at him– flushed, dazed, completely drunk off his cock alone only fueled the fire raging inside of him more.

“Such a mess for me.” His words dripping with satisfaction as one of his hands slipped up to her neck giving it a squeeze pulling a soft gasp from her lips.

His other hand snaked down, to rub circles on her clit as he kept his pace drilling into her, the added pleasure causing tears to stream down her cheeks, her hands gripping his shoulder even harder in an attempt to anchor herself.

“Bellamy!” She moaned out his name, her voice cracking as her body writhed under him, the mixture of his cock and fingers driving her insane.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her, and his hips snapped against her even harder, his rhythm growing rougher, needier. “You like this huh?” He growled, his breath hot against her neck, “You like when I use you like this? Being a cock drunk slut for me?”

Her head fell back, her lips parted as she let out a strangled cry, the tension inside her building to a breaking point. Her body was on fire, every nerve alight, every sensation heightened. His grip on her neck tightened, his fingers still rubbing circles against her clit. His lips worked against her neck, biting and kissing sloppily, claiming every inch of her.

“You drive me crazy,” He muttered, his voice almost a snarl as he buried himself deeper, his movements becoming more erratic, more sloppy with each thrust, “You always have.”

She could barely process his words, her find too clouded by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. Her body tightened around him, and she felt herself teetering on the edge, her cries growing louder, more desperate.

“Bell, fuck.. I’m–” She stammered, her hands clutching onto him as the wave built higher, threatening to crash over her at any moment.

“Hm, you wanna cum for me?” He murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice softer now but still filled with just as much urgency, “Go on then, cum on my cock.”

That’s all it took for her to go over the edge, her body convulsing under him as her release ripped through her, leaving her gasping and trembling. He kept going, his fingers still drawing lazy circles, his thrusts getting more and more sloppy as she rode out her high. A few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep inside of her, spilling his seed, and painting her walls, claiming her insides as his. His growls turned into a deep groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shaking just a bit before collapsing next to her on the ground.

They laid there for a moment, minds still clouded over, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. Their bodies began to cool down, the heat that had consumed them moments ago ebbed away, leaving behind a strange clarity. Slowly, the effects of the pollen wore off, and with it came the crashing weight of reality.

Her eyes darted around, her chest still heaving as she tried to process what had just happened. Her skin felt cooler now, but it didn’t erase the marks of what just happened– the warmth of his hands, the scrape of his teeth, the way he had her coming undone on his cock.

“What the fuck just happend?” She yelped, her voice cracking as she sat up abruptly, clutching all her discarded clothes. She was quick to scramble to put them on, her hands shaking slightly as she tugged her shirt over her head. Her hair was a wild mess, her body covered in purple bruises, her lips swollen, and her face burned with disbelief and embarrassment of what just happened.

Bellamy, still lying beside her, blinked as if coming out of a fog. He propped himself up on his elbows, a mix of shock and confusion fainted his freckled face. His fair was a tangled mess, his chest and shoulders mocked with red scratches left in the wake of her nails. His lips bore the same swollen look, evident of their fevered kisses.

“I–” He started, his voice hoarse. He paused his brow furrowing as he glanced at Y/n who was furiously tying her boots up.

He was quick to follow, grabbing all his clothes and throwing them on, still just as confused.After they were just dressed, they came face to face.

“I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but we’re going to pretend it didn’t.” She spat out, glaring daggers into him. The lust was long gone, replaced by the familiar bitterness she felt for him.

Though he felt the same way, and hated her, he couldn’t shake the fact that he had her stubborn ass falling apart for him.

“I doubt you’ll forget the way I made you feel.” He smirked, slinging his gun over his shoulder.

She flipped him off, “I hate you, Blake.”

He rolled his eyes, “Feelings mutual firecracker.”

[vrystalius]

heyyy, so first of all, I really love your writing style!💕 I know that your request are not opened rn, but maybe you will go through them and see this one day. I was thinking about how the Demon slayer characters would react if someone walks in on them while making out (or even doing more) with y/n. Idk if you will even read this, but if so, do whatever you want with this idea<𝟑

ps. Hi from Germany🙂‍↕️

Caught.

You got caught being a little too affectionate…

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!hashira!reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive/light nsfw

Words: 840

Note: Nett hier, aber waren Sie schon mal in Baden-Württemberg? Iykyk

Sanemi Shinazugawa // Wind Hashira

Being overly affectionate, especially in areas where you two can get caught, is not really his thing. Although this time was an exception.

You have been apart for far too long, Sanemi being dragged away by never ending missions, followed by another week long mission, then another, then another… It’s only natural for both of you to get a little pent up.

Sanemi being Sanemi, he returned with slashes adorning his body from the latest mission and being exiled to the nursing station, he was being a little stingy about receiving care and mending. Of course, he never physically threatened the nurses, but there was some resistance and slight attitude. So, you were called over since you are one of the few people he seemed tolerate care from.

“You are a stubborn man.” You scolded lightly as you removed the crusty bandages that were obviously on his arm for far too long. His body flinched away from your touch but you could tell that he was trying to sit still. He begrudgingly complied with your administrations, his eyes following you across the room as you grabbed fresh bandages. “I know. I get that a lot.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help but grin. You missed this. Missed him.

Sanemi was staring at you as the fresh bandages were wrapped around his injury, his muscles flexing subtly. While you were concentrated, he took his time to admire you. Being apart for so long took a toll on him. He has no picture of you stashed away in his belongings; you and him barely have the luxury of time spend together to go to a photographer, and if you did, you’d rather spend it cuddling or doing something else.

You haven’t changed much ever since he left, the circles beneath your eyes becoming just a touch darker. He lifted his arm and briefly brushed over your cheekbones, making you halt for a moment. “What are you doing, hmm?”

That made his heart jump backwards. Sanemi couldn’t help but smirk, his warm palm cupping your face as he angled it down for him to kiss.

His lips met yours, the warm feeling of familiarity spreading from him to you, his other (injured) arm comfortably setting around your torso, pulling you towards him. His warm breath fanned your face as his lips became more desperate, searching, silently pleading for more. Your hand snaked up his neck and into his hair, lightly pulling his head back. He groaned.

Sanemi’s face was flushed, adorably so. He was flustered.

“You don’t want more?” He asked, his voice low and raspy. His arm was trying to pull you even closer. Your hand found didn’t protest, seating yourself right next to him on his patient’s bed. Despite his condition, Sanemi seemed to be much more focused on you. You couldn’t help but give in. “I do. I’m not sure if we should, you’re kind of—“ ”I’ll feel better.” He teasingly interjected.

This time, your lips met his first as you held his face with carefulness. His chest rumbled beneath yours as he groaned into the kiss, his eyes closing and his lashes tickling your skin lightly.

The kiss grew more feverish as one became two, two became too many to count. His tongue brushed against your lower lip to ask for entrance. You smiled against his lips but before you could his welcome intrusion, you heard the door slide open behind you.

“Shinazugawa-sama, Shinobu sent me by for—“ Aoi stepped into the room and caught glimpse of whatever was happening on the bed. Sanemi scrambled and shifted back under his blanket to play it off. The poor girl stood there frozen with the tray of medicinal remedies, her eyes wide and face paler than the sheets. Silence.

She looked back and forth between you two, unsure of what exactly to say. “I think will come back another time. Uhm. Please do not dirty the sheets.” Her voice was quiet as she slowly stepped backwards, closing the door slowly, but not before whispering something amongst the lines of “or else I will end up cleaning them”. You moved off his lap as embarrassment flushed your whole body. Sanemi awkwardly crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his lap.

“That was…” You scratched the back of your head. “We- I- should finish bandaging you up, then we can go home and continue what we started.”

Sanemi smirked almost unnoticeably and grunted and lifted his injured arm up for you. You didn’t notice before, but his hairs were standing up on their ends from before, but also, he was awkwardly pushing his legs and thighs together. Nothing your stare, the muscles flexed even further.

“Oh.” “Yeah, “Oh”. Hurry up at fix my damn arm and stop staring!!” “Someone got excited by just kissing? That’s adorable.” “NO!!”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!!

Du bist die erste person die mir sagt das sie aus DE ist also uhhh HERZLICH WILLKOMMEN 😭 Ich hoffe dir hat gefallen was ich zusammen geschrieben hab <3 Vllt mach ich noch paar andere parts bin anderen kny Charakteren aber ka, erstma muss ich schauen wie das hier wird

Translation: You are the first person that told me that they’re from Germany so WELCOME!!! I hope you enjoyed what I wrote together <3 Maybe I’ll make few more parts with other characters in the future, I’ll forat have to see how this one turns out

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants. 

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked… 

Wow. 

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks. 

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol. 

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y—oh!” 

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell. 

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge. 

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up. 

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration. 

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird. 

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.” 

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other. 

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty. 

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless. 

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row. 

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.” 

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day. 

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you. 

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble. 

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—" 

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt. 

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head. 

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill. 

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.” 

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.” 

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you. 

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.  

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out. 

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face. 

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you. 

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job. 

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk. 

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”

[dontmakemechooseanli]

Polycule love and deep space idea I may never write but it’s been plaguing me-

Completely and totally unedited I just have this picture in my head I can’t get it to leave me be. Also there is a severe lack of poly lads writing- please feed me.

Reader is MC in this for plot reasons you’ll see. Canon divergence but it’s for the PLOT.

Reader who dies on a mission- it was supposed to be an easy check on a small park with minor metaflux changes.

She’s rushed to the hospital and is declared dead. Zayne is crushed and inconsolable. He was the one who called it.

Caleb is still her emergency contact and he comes immediately. Rafayel who feels it through the bond. Xavier whose Hunter Watch is buzzing so incessantly. Sylus who feels half his souls rip.

As Zayne stands still in the corner wondering how the hell he is meant to even breathe now is beyond shocked when you take another breath.

And another.

And another.

And you’re alive.

Even though your body is broken you have a large easy smile on your face as you glance at him. Your eyes wide and easy, blinking owlishly at him

“Y/N” Zayne chokes out- his sobs have subsided into unbelieving gasps.

“Huh?” You hum easily. “I’m not sure what’s going on. Can I help you sir? Are you looking for someone?” You feel strange not panicking because the man in front of you clearly is. He’s beyond panicked- you watch fearful for a moment as ice trails up his arm. He’s gone quickly and you’re surrounded by kind faces and beeping and needles and then darkness.

The waiting room looks like the punch line to a terrible joke.

Xavier has his shirt on backwards and no shoes. He had simply appeared in the ER after getting the hospital name out of a distraught Tara.

Sylus is a ball of barely restrained fury. He had all the power and influence in the world and the nurse refused to tell him a thing.

Rafayel was strangely silent. He looked like he had seen a ghost. He stood, arms crossed and ghastly, shoulders near his ears and pearlescent tears in his eyes.

Caleb was taking heavy strides into the room they had all been bustled into. His colonels uniform swishes behind him, his jaw clenched and the room was already too small but suddenly it feels as if all the air had disappeared.

The room is silent for a moment as all the men stare at each other wearily. They had known they would meet eventually- each of them too entangled in you to not know of the other men in your life.

Caleb is the one who breaks the silence

“Where is she- I swear I’ll-“

The door abruptly opens pushing directly into Caleb’s already outstretched hand. Zayne- looking uncharacteristically shaken and haunted- peers at the strange group.

“Zayne.”

“She’s alive.”

There is an exhale.

Xavier relaxes slightly into the chair he is slumped in. The frenetic energy that buzzed around Sylus dissipates slightly. Air returns to the room. Rafayel’s shoulders release and his pacing stops.

“Great.” Sylus stands to his full height, his practiced facade securely in place, taking a step towards the door. “Where is sh-“

“She doesn’t remember who she is. She doesn’t know where she is. She died. And now she’s alive again. We don’t understand.”

Caleb feels like throwing up. Not again. He doesn’t know if he can remember for the both of them anymore.

Xavier has lost her again. He had loved her again and she had loved him. How long could he fight for? How many more times would he have to watch you learn him again?

Sylus felt the wound open again. The one in the center of his chest- would you be disgusted by him? Would you hate him? He would love you in every lifetime but would return to him?

Zayne was trying to stay strong- to find a logical explanation for everything. But deep down he felt the entire reason for his being crumbling. He had become a doctor to save you- to be able to hold your heart safely in his hands- and he had failed.

Everyone was so solidly grief stricken for a moment they didn’t pay attention to Rafayel’s easy smile and saunter. They were only brought into focus when they heard a soft scoff and a quiet “Amateurs. What, like it’s your first time? Expected better from the others her heart chose but look like I’ll take the lead on this one. Thanks guys.”

And with that he was out of the room and lightly humming to himself.

“Hi, cutie.”

Heheheheheheheheehhe thank god it’s out of my brain. Maybe I’ll write more. Maybe I’ll write better. Anyone want to see it?

Also can you tell who my main is from this? I think it’s obvious but maybe not ???

Edit: wrote the first chapter and yay here we go!

[nicka-nell]

Can i request tsukishima, kuroo, semi and futakuchi being interrumped at sexy moments with their s/o (for example, they are kissing your neck so slowly that you can't breathe and boom! the door bell)

Hi anon! I don't know what happened, but I suddenly had a big boost of motivation and just wrote your sweet request. 😅🥰 I really need to get back into writing... It was so unfamiliar and kind of hard, but it was still fun. Sorry if it's kind of bad. I tried my best. 🥹

Getting interrupted during sexy time

Pairing: Tsukishima x, Kuroo x, Semi x, Futakuchi Kenji x reader

Warning: fluff, slightly mention of nsfw, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Tsukki... are you still reading through that report on dinosaurs?” you sigh as you get up from his bed and walk over to his desk, looking over his shoulder. 

“This isn’t just any dinosaur. It’s a Camptosaurus, one of the rarest. Researchers found bones of this dinosaur a few days ago.” Tsukishima replies in his usual tone. Instead of answering him, you just nod with a slight smile. It’s actually quite cute when he talks about something that fascinates him. 

“Ooh, I see... what did they look like before?” you ask curiously, taking the opportunity to roll his desk chair backwards and sit on his lap. A grumpy ‘hey’ escapes Tsukishima as you make yourself comfortable, your back against his chest. He accepts it and puts his free hand around your waist. 

“Here... this is what a camptosaurus used to look like.” Tsukishima leans forward. You automatically move with him as he hands you his cell phone and you look at the pictures in the report. “Wow, that’s a big dinosaur. I’d be an easy snack for it.” you giggle and glance to the side at Tsukishima, who is looking over your shoulder at his cell phone. 

“No, they were herbivores. At most, it would eat your plants that you look after sporadically,” he replies sarcastically, and you stick your tongue out at him before laughing lightly. Now he looks away from his cell phone and up at you. 

“What? I’m right,” he says, and you just roll your eyes playfully. “Sometimes you’re really mean. But I love you for it.” You reply and watch Tsukishima’s eyes widen for a moment. The tips of his ears redden before he turns away. Oh Tsukki... you think and turn a little more in his lap, so that you are now facing him head-on, before you cup his cheeks with your hands and kiss him. “What, shy?” You say mischievously, but he only returns your grin with an arrogant look. 

“Shy? Did you see your reflection in my glasses?” he teases back and leans forward, trapping you between himself and the table. “Oh, now I’m scared,” you say sneeringly, as Tsukishima pulls you towards his hips by your waist, his face bent forward. “Don’t be cheeky, or else-“

“Or else what?” you interrupt him before he whispers softly, “Punishment.” Before you can get any further into your teasing, you feel his warm lips on yours. Your heart beats fast and you feel like you’re on fire. His fingertips, which sneak lightly under your t-shirt and touch your skin, make you sigh softly.

“Have you lost your tongue?” he whispers before his lips meet yours again. His kiss is slow and long. His tongue parts your lips before the kiss becomes even more intimate. 

You feel his thumbs caressing your bare skin under your shirt, slowly traveling up your sides before you break away from the kiss and look at him with a mischievous grin. “Who knows? Looks like you’re going to have to try to get me talking again.” 

“Easy.” he replies grinning, before he starts to kiss your neck. His lips are warm on your skin, his teeth nibble lightly. 

“Is that a challenge?” you breathe as you tilt your head back, your hands wrapping around Tsukishima’s neck. You feel his smirk on your neck, his hands pushing your shirt up and his upper body pressing even closer to yours, pushing your back further against the table behind you. “Mhh Tsukki...” you sigh and feel the desire for more rising inside you.

“Easier than I thought.” he smiles triumphantly as he continues to kiss your neck when you suddenly hear the door opens. 

“Do you want to have dinner with us later or are you going to the cinem-?” you hear Akiteru, who enters the room happily and quickly gets wide-eyed when he sees you both. 

“Eh, I… well... I think mum just called.” He turns around somewhat awkwardly and instantly closes the door behind him. Embarrassed, you put your face in your hands and feel like sinking into the ground. 

“Oh my God, how shameful...” you sigh, but instead of being embarrassed, Tsukishima clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Annoying... He’s old enough to know that doors aren’t decorative objects. They’re there to be knocked on before you pull the door open,” he says with a slightly annoyed undertone. 

You feel your face grimace as you glare at him. “That’s not funny Tsukki. How am I supposed to look your brother in the eye at dinner now?” 

Your snappy words make Tsukishima roll his eyes again. But it’s not an annoyed eye roll, more like an amused one. “Just don’t look him in the eye if it bothers you that much. But just for the record... my room has neither airtight windows nor doors. In other words, it’s not a soundproof room. Don’t you think my brother knows what we do here at night? I’m pretty sure he hears you every time. You’re not exactly quiet, are you?” Tsukishima teases you with a smirk before leaning forward and pulling your hands away from your face to look at you. 

“Tsukki! My God, why would you say that? I hate you!” you say mad, feeling the heat only rise to your face more before you kick him lightly and sigh more. Ah, Tsukishima loves to see your embarrassed face when he teases you. “Sure, that’s why you annoy me every day.” he smirks before giving you a kiss on the nose. 

The national team’s volleyball matches are coming up again and Kuroo is working overtime more often. He’s staying late at the office today. He's the only one except for a few colleagues there, when you knock on his office door and enter it. With a gentle smile, you hold a bag of food in the air. Kuroo still seems to be in a videoconference. You quietly unpack the box of food and place it on his desk before making yourself comfortable on the sofa in the corner of his office as you wait for his meeting to be over. 

It doesn’t take long for him to say goodbye and take his headset off his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly before clicking on the “leave” button for the online meeting. 

With an understanding smile, you walk to him, wanting to ask him if you should massage his shoulders, but Kuroo is already stretching out his hands, grabbing yours, before pulling you onto his lap and giving you a kiss.

“Don’t forget to eat something in between,” you say worriedly as Kuroo leans his head against your chest. “You know I’m not a child to look after, right?” Kuroo says teasingly, even though he likes that you’re worried about him. 

You roll your eyes lovingly before looking at the bento box you have prepared for Kuroo. You release your hands from his before reaching for the box to open it. Still sitting on his lap, you pick up the chopsticks and a small piece of tamagoyaki before you bring it to Kuroo’s mouth. “Go on, eat my little baby.” you tease him warmly as Kuroo grins and puts his hands around your waist, opens his mouth and lets you feed him. 

“Well, kitten, I could get used to that,” he purrs as you giggle. “In your dreams. Don’t get too used to it. You’re not old and fragile yet.” you say as you reach for the next piece of tamagoyaki, but you pause as Kuroo’s lips move gently over your neck, nuzzling your skin. 

“I’m actually hungry for something else,” he whispers in your ear as he starts to nibble on your earlobe. His thumb lightly caresses your hip, his breath is warm on your skin and you quickly realize how shy you suddenly feel. 

“Tetsu... there are still colleagues of yours in the office... what if someone comes in? We shouldn’t do something so naughty here.” You reply sheepishly and look to the side. But Kuroo doesn’t even think about stopping now. 

The week was more exhausting than usual. He was hardly ever at home and had many meetings with sponsors or young talents who needed to be supported. To avoid waking you up in the middle of the night, Kuroo either slept in his office or on the sofa in the living room. He misses being close to you. He was glad to see you again today after a hard day. You somehow looked even more charming than usual today. Even if that’s not possible. He’s sure you could have come into his office in sweatpants and a baggy jumper, but his first thought would still have been, ‘wow, that’s my wife’.

“Let them be. There should only be a few colleagues left, anyway. The colleagues who are still working have no reason to come into my office,” Kuroo says throatily between kisses, before his hand strolls from your hip to your chin, he moves away from your neck and peers at you mischievously.

“Besides, you’re the one who said my statement was indecent. How could you possibly think that I had something naughty in mind? I actually only wanted to eat the rice in the bento box and not the egg,” Kuroo says you with a grin. 

Embarrassed, you try to look away, but his hand on your chin stops you. “Now I feel a bit silly. Then... wait, I’ll give you the rice,” you say almost shyly, but Kuroo chuckles. 

“Where do you think you’re going? That was a lie. The thing I crave most right now is right in front of me.” he whispers almost like a predator looking at his prey as he brushes your lips with his thumb before his hand moves to the back of your head when he pulls you close to kiss you. 

His kiss is slow but firm. His tongue quickly finds its way between your lips and makes your heart beat even faster. “Tetsu...” you sigh between kisses, feeling his grin on your lips. “Oh my kitten, don’t worry about the others here. If you stay quiet, no one will hear us, and no one will find out that we’re about to give the desk a quality check.” 

“Shush, you talk too much.” You say sheepishly, feeling his hand wrap itself tighter in your hair as his other hand slides under your top. 

Kuroo is just about to say something, when the vibrating of his mobile phone makes him sigh briefly. He considers answering it, but then he ignores the call and concentrates on kissing you again, pressing your body even closer to him on his lap. “Ah, Tetsu, at least see who’s calling you. Maybe it’s important.” 

“You’re the most important thing right now,” he says hungrily, but you push him away and look at him seriously. Kuroo sighs in frustration, making a mental note to block the contact who has now called him and disturbed your togetherness and remove him from his friend’s list if it’s not really important. 

He clicks his tongue as he reaches for his phone and picks it up even before he can read who is calling him. But his annoyed expression suddenly changes. His eyes grow wide, almost panicked, as he reaches for his mouse and looks at his computer screen. “Kuroo-san, you really seem to have a lovely wife, and I don’t want to disturb you. But… You’re still in the meeting and we can hear and see you,” says an investor with whom he and two of his colleagues were at the meeting earlier. 

Kuroo checks the app he had used for the meeting and sees that instead of clicking the “Leave” button, he had simply minimized the window. He was still in the meeting and everyone could see and hear you. Caught and with a charming smile, Kuroo apologizes before quickly leaving the meeting, almost not daring to look in your direction. Because he knows that you are staring at him with a look that could kill. 

Semi is sitting in his garage as he plays a melody on his guitar and goes through the lyrics he wrote yesterday when he was slightly drunk and partying with his band mambers. 

He is not entirely happy with the melody. It sounds so sad, although the lyrics are actually beautiful. Maybe he should take a break? After all, he’s been practicing here for a while now. “Just one more time, then I’ll take a break,” he mumbles to himself as he starts to play a new melody to the song. Completely in his element, he doesn’t notice when the door to his garage opens and you walk in. 

You wait until he has finished his song before you start clapping. Semi flinches before looking towards the door in your direction. He grabs a cushion that’s next to him on the sofa and throws it in your direction. “Tell me, are you trying to kill me with a heart attack? I’m not that successful yet that it would be worth it for you,” he pouts, but he doesn’t mean any offense. 

Laughing, you catch the pillow and throw it back before walking to him and placing two bottles of juice and two boxes of noodles on the table in front of him. Before you sit down, you cup his cheeks with your hands and give him a loving peck. “Oh damn, I guess I’ll have to wait a few more years than, right? Although... if you keep writing hits like the song you just wrote, then maybe it will only take a few more months.” You say playfully with a smile and brush a strand of hair behind his ear. 

Semi’s ears turn red, his hands still on his guitar before he realizes that you must have just heard the whole song. He had written a song about you. About the woman who turns his head, who will be the death to him even in his dreams. About the woman who makes him smile every day, because that’s what she does to him every day and she doesn’t even have to be there. Because just the thought of you is enough. About the woman who makes him feel strong in every situation, who always supports him. And then there were a few lines that weren’t so suitable for minors. 

“Do you think it’s really sexy if I walk into our kitchen in the morning in just your shirt and make us a coffee?” you grin teasingly. Semi pouts, unsure how to respond. 

You lean further towards him, your fingers brush against his, still holding the guitar. “You know, I find it really sexy when you play the guitar. The way your hands move, how passionate you look when you sing the lyrics you’ve written yourself. Sometimes I wish you’d replace the guitar with me and play with me like you play your guitar,” you say seductively with a hungry look.  

Oh, you really are the death to him, Semi thinks, now also red in the face as he turns to you and his shy look has twisted into a confident and strong smile. “Hey watch out pretty-face. A wise man once said that you should be careful with your wishes, otherwise they will soon come true,” he whispers hoarsely to you, just inches away from your face. 

“Is that so? Then I hope he’s right.” You whisper just as confidently before closing the last distance between you two to kiss him. You playfully bite his lower lip. Your hand caresses his cheek before you wander down his neck, your fingers play with his necklace. You smile briefly before tugging on the necklace and pulling him closer to you. 

“Oh, God, you’re going to send me to hell,” Semi says in a raspy voice before putting down his guitar to kiss you again. He leans forwards, pushing you down onto the sofa before lying on top of you between your legs his lips never leaving yours. His kisses are stormy, taking your breath away.

“Good," you breathe, reaching for the fabric of Semi’s top to pull it off. You throw it on the floor, your hands caressing his muscles hungrily, only giving Semi an even bigger ego boost. 

“Fuck, I love when you do that,” he moans, still kissing you fiercely as his hand slides to your leg, bending it slightly and squeezing the flesh of your thigh. A murmur escapes him as his hand moves further up your skirt to your bum. “Baby, you do things to me-“ 

“Oh boy, here we go again...” a familiar voice suddenly interrupts him. Cursing, Semi flinches and pulls your skirt back into place before looking towards the door. Two of his band mates are standing in the doorway of his garage. The band’s second guitarist looks to the side, embarrassed, and scratches the back of his neck, while the bassist puts his hands on his hips and looks at Semi, shaking his head. 

“Fuck, what are you doing here?” curses Semi, before standing up and helping you into a sitting position. He always meets up with his band in his garage on Fridays. Each of his colleagues has a key to the garage so that everyone can stay longer, even after band practice is over. But today was Thursday... 

“Really? You were the one who wanted to move the rehearsal to Thursday this week because you wanted to meet up with your former school friends tomorrow. You wanted to cheer for that guy... Wakatoshi, right?” the bassist sighs, before taking a few steps forwards and grabbing Semi’s shirt. With a hiss, he throws the shirt in his face. “Can’t you find a room? This is the... fifth time we’ve caught you rubbing your love life in our faces. Or are you secretly telling us to join in? Are you into a gangbang or what?” The bassist laughs as he teases Semi with his words. 

Annoyed by his own forgetfulness, Semi rolls his eyes as he catches the shirt. He sulkily puts the shirt back on before placing his hand protectively on your thigh. “Nothing there, I’m not sharing my girl,” he says seriously, even though his band mate had only said it as a joke. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to give his bandmates a key to the garage after all. Or maybe you should just start keeping your hands to yourselves before and during band rehearsals. 

Futakuchi has just come home from work when he walks into the living room and sees you sitting there with a book in your hand. He looks around the room before his eyes land on you again. “Baby, you’ll damage your eyes if you read a book in this poor light,” he says, before flicking the light switch and turning on the light. 

Engrossed in your book, you didn’t realize that the sun was already setting. “Oh, that’s right... thank you. How was your day?” you ask him as you close the book and look at him with a smile. He comes to you and gives you a quick kiss before stretching. 

“Annoying. The customers were just extremely weird today. With some of them, I wonder how they even get through life,” he grumbles, before undoing the first buttons of his shirt. “But anyway, let’s not talk about work. I’d like to take a shower now and then maybe we can continue watching the series we started yesterday. What do you think?” 

Futakuchi has never been someone who likes to talk about his work. But perhaps it’s just as well that he doesn’t take his work home with him. In any case, he never really seems exhausted or overworked. So you just nod with a smile and pick up your book again. In the time Futakuchi is in the shower, you’re sure to manage another twenty pages. 

Fresh out of the shower, Futakuchi pulls on a pair of shorts and a shirt before rubbing his hair dry and heading back into the living room. With a sigh of relief, he heads for the sofa when he sees you lying there. You’re lying on your stomach, your book in front of you, and your ass right in front of his eyes. In those tight, sexy leggings. Oh, how he loves the way your ass wiggles in those things. 

Unconsciously, he bites his lower lip, sneaks up to you before giving you a slap on the ass and squeezing it with his hands. He jumps on the sofa, kneels over you before playfully pretending to bite your shoulder from behind. 

“Kenji! Haha stop, that tickles.” you laugh, close the book and try to turn around, but Futakuchi won’t let you. 

“You’re doing that on purpose. Showing me your sexy ass like that.” Futakuchi grins, before leaning forwards and trapping you between him and the sofa, kissing your shoulder again. His still damp hair gives you goosebumps. 

“Kenji... I thought we wanted to continue watching our series.” You say a little more quietly now, feeling your body react to his kisses and his touch. 

“Yeah, sure, the series...” mumbles Futakuchi as he moves from your shoulder to your neck, buries his head in the crook of your neck and slides his hands between the sofa and your body, hugging you from behind. “Just let me lie like this for a while,” he sighs contentedly. 

His body lies on top of yours, but he doesn’t press his full weight onto you. You can still breathe. His cool hands on your stomach caress you, his fingertips graze your lower for a moment, and you don’t know what makes your breathing most uneasy. His hands on your body, his body on yours or his breath landing hot on your skin. 

“Ah... Kenji... that’s not the remote that’s between you and me on my butt, is it?” you say as you hear him smirk.

“No baby, you don’t need batteries for this thing to work,” he says mischievously, continuing to rub his pelvis against your ass. A soft moan escapes your lips, Kenji starts kissing your neck, his hand moves up to your breast, the other down between your legs. 

“It’s easier if I turn around- “ you’re about to say, but Futakuchi interrupts you. “But it’s pretty hot like this,” he murmurs, and you feel him rubbing his pelvis harder against you, your own desire growing. With a groan, you lower your head, push your ass upwards and hear Futakuchi murmur. 

“Yeah baby, just like that,” he says, playfully biting your neck before kissing you on the same spot. You both want more. The mood is charged, when you suddenly hear the ringing of your front doorbell. You startle, Futakuchi also briefly considers answering the door. But opening the door with a erection in his shorts wouldn’t be the best idea, anyway. So you both try to ignore it, but the doorbell rings again. 

“Damn!” Futakuchi curses, stands up, pushes the curtains aside slightly and looks out of the living room window. From the living room, you have a good view of the entrance to the front door. His eyes widen and he looks at you. “Oh shit, shit, shit. Go on, say something. Something that really turns me off!” Futakuchi says, almost in a panic. 

You look at him in confusion before sitting up. “Kenji... what’s wrong with you?” you ask, irritated. But Futakuchi seems to be thinking hard about something to get rid of his erection. 

“I forgot that I promised my mum I’d look after my sister for the weekend. The two of them are just outside the front door...” says Futakuchi with a desperate smile. 

“W-what? Kenji! Oh god, open the door, these two can’t stay outside! Or no... wait... you’re not opening the door with that...” you say, pointing at his massive erection. “Go, go into the bathroom and wait there until it’s gone again. And then come to us. I’ll tell your mum and sister that you’re still in the shower,” you say, before straightening your clothes and heading for the door, when Futakuchi comes up to you and hugs you from behind. 

“You’re the best,” he says, kissing your cheek before letting you go. However, he can’t resist giving you a slap on your butt before he leaves. 

[courtingchaos]

I’ve been thinking about eddie who’s in the early pre relationship stages with you. but in his mind he’s married to you he’s been pining after you for so long. he doesn’t want to scare you though so he’s pumping the breaks and trying to take things slow.

you’re spending the night at his and he’s managed to keep enough distance from you that he deems respectful in his courtship of you. but when he wakes it’s to your hand high on his thigh, and you’re out for the count. and he’s hard as a rock and needs to move you before you wake up and see what state he’s in.

not wanting to wake you and alert you to his issue he thinks on his feet and decides he has to become soft asap, then he can move you. then if you wake up it’s not going to be to him feeling like a complete pervert.

so he’s reciting his favourite passages from all of the books he’s read.

only it’s not doing much. the pretty girl in his bed is winning this round.

he starts reciting them backwards to increase the difficulty and hopefully distract the ache away. but in his ingenuity to up the anti he’s inadvertently made it so tough that he’s now whisper shouting the words out loud. waking you. eddie still hard as a rock reciting poetry in a wicked order that makes no sense to man nor beast, is stopped abruptly in his tracks, gasping at the feel of your palm squeezing the meat of his inner thigh. Mortified and yet. Still painfully erect with no hope of going down anytime soon

sorry to vomit this at you but it seemed like fate that you’d asked for a request (this is far too long and detailed I’m sorry) and I was thinking about this at the same time

1. Don’t apologize, you’ve struck gold. You have not dug too greedily nor too deep.

2. You’ve written this really well so I could just post this with a bunch of reactions under it but, if you’ll allow me to expand upon this.

Picture this with me okay? He’s reciting Jabberwocky to himself. It’s a nonsense poem. He had an English teacher once give out a project for them to learn and recite a poem and of course he chose this. It has fun words in it like vorpal and borogoves. It’s become one of his bits actually when he’s trying to command a room.

“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:”

Everyone will sigh. Jeff and Gareth and Frank will drop their heads onto their desks or over the backs of their chairs in long groans. Dustin still thinks it’s fun, he hasn’t gotten tired of it yet, and Mike likes it he just won’t admit it. Eddie loves it though, likes the way slithy toves slides off his tongue when he puts on that creaking voice he uses for warlocks durning games.

Now though he mumbles it to himself in the dark, his ludicrous attempt at bringing down his mood. Something had woken him at the witching hour, 3:07 shining a bright green from across his room. He wasn’t cold, his window shut against the chill earlier when you’d come over. He wasn’t overheated, quite content with you softly cuddled up next to him. No itch or ill folded sheet causing him discomfort. He had seven solid minutes of waking, a few he spared to revel in the heat of you lying next to him. To feel your shoulder lying on his as you pressed your face into his pillow. Your knee bent up and almost over his own and your hand planted firmly on his thigh.

Oh. That.

Those fingers he liked to twirl around his own and lick salt off of when you were done with your fries? Those fingers were under the hem of his boxers and a very much pressing into the meat of his thigh. You don’t move except to breathe but all he can focus on is that hand literal inches from his dick. The dick he’d kept in check for weeks now in the hopes he wouldn’t chase you away with the absolute need he felt. Kind of like right now where it lays heavy and hot against his thigh just like your hand.

So Jabberwocky it is.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

But in the dark with a hard on, slithy toves makes him chuckle. Almost full on giggle and he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Slithy toves sounds like a euphemism for pussy and he can’t help the huffs of laughter pushed through his nose. He looks down in the hopes that this has distracted his dick but apparently laughter makes him harder and he files that away to look into at a later date. Borogoves floats through his brain and he immediately thinks about giving your boobs a new nickname and he has to put a foot down for himself.

Next verse.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

Bandersnatch has to be a euphemism, there’s no goddamn way, it has the word snatch in it. He rolls his eyes and before he can sigh you shift beside him in your sleep, closer with your nose in his curls on his pillow and that soft hand he’s thought about when his own is too boring in the shower scoots another inch closer to the problem.

Maybe if he whispers it out loud?

“He took his vorpal sword in hand;-”

Absolutely not. Nope. New plan when he feels your sleeping breath across the front of his throat. It ghosts over his adams apple and all he can think about is your lips on his neck last week and how he’d pulled at his hair after you’d left just because it drove him insane.

Maybe if he recited it backwards it would confuse him enough all the blood would need to race back up into his brain.

“Outgrabe…raths…the-no…mome the and…” He’s squinting hard in the dark, reading invisible words on the ceiling in this new attempt to circumvent disaster.

“Borogoves…ha. Damn it. Borogoves…the were…mimsy all.” A headache is all this is giving him but for a moment he’s forgotten your hand and where it was. He’s searching the next line in his head and trying to jumble it so it isn’t so halting in the early morning quiet.

“Wabe the in gimble and gyer did!” He almost claps his hands when he makes it through without pause but he stops himself for fear of waking you up. Instead he spends 20 minutes working his way backwards through his poem, whispering to the night about the Jabberwock.

O frabjous day indeed when he realizes his dick is half soft now, not such a nuisance and a terror after he’s distracted himself. He thinks about waking you gently, a hand brushing your hair away from your face or running lightly over your leg but then you move. You move of your own accord and hook your leg over his. Kneecap bumping your hand higher and if he breathed wrong right this second you’d be brushing fingertips over his balls.

“And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,”

He mutters without whisper. It’s not full volume speaking but he really doesn’t want you to wake up and find him hard and awake with your hand shoved up his shorts. As much as he would really love to feel your hands on him like that he’s been trying his best to be gentlemanly. Only necking on your timetable when you steal him away to a quiet corner. A little over the pants stuff, heavy petting but you’ve never pushed it and it won’t make you uncomfortable, no matter what his dick wants him to do.

“Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!”

Eddie sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hm?” You hum at him. A high note in the back of your throat that has him whipping his head to see you stirring. Adjusting to your side and dra-a-agging that hand. He doesn’t know what to do as you come around and blink up at him in the dark. He can see the edges of your expression from the light filtering in from outside, smooth brow and faint smile until it isn’t.

“Di’ yousay sumthin’?” Slurred against his shoulder where your mouth is pressed.

“Uh, kind of.”

“You okay?” You press up against him, your pelvis into his hip and he’s about to be caught. There’s no way you aren’t going to notice the outline in his boxers or the way he’s gotta be sweating gallons just in nerves.

“I…yeah?”

“What’s the ma-” You shift to prop yourself up so you can sleepily inspect him and he wants to subsequently die and sigh happily when your hand meets trouble. “Oh.”

Oh. Oh? Oh yeah, no big deal, it’s just his dick showing up to ruin the party like the world’s worst frat guy. “Look, I was trying to make it go away and I-“

“Why?” Having just woken up your voice is soft in a deep way. Scratchy from dry air but it fits the mussed hair and the rucked up t-shirt you have on. His gaze falls on the sliver of stomach that you’re showing off between the covers and he’s having a hard time coming up with an answer.

“Why?”

“Is there an echo in here?” You laugh and slide your palm over his stomach that tenses. “Yeah, why.” Your pinky catches the hem of his thin shirt and pulls it up to reveal his own section of underbelly. “We’re alone right?”

“Y-yeah.” It comes out like a hiss though because your nails scratch across that newly revealed skin and right over the trail of hairs below his belly button. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t uh, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Your fingers move back and forth over his stomach before you let them dip back down to the waistband of his boxers, fingertip seeking under the elastic ever so slightly. “You’ve been very patient Eddie.” The rings on your hand are body warm but hold a child to them when they glide over skin. “I think we just had a little misunderstanding at first though.” Fingers comb through wiry hairs on their search for their prize. “I’ve been trying to do this since you asked me out, but I thought you wanted to wait.”

“Oh my god, no. I mean yes, because I thought that’s what you wanted but I read into things too much sometimes bec-ause fuck.” He was running his mouth but then you’d grabbed him. Wrapped that dreamy hand around his cock and sighed into his cheek like you were the one experiencing earth shattering euphoria.

“Eddie I’ve wanted to do this for months.” A slow tug to the tip and you do something with your fingers that makes his mouth hang open in a silent plea. Another twist before you run your thumb over his slit and he grabs your wrist.

“This is gonna be over so quick if you keep that up.”

“Well that’s not so bad, I was still a little tired.” Highlights pick up the line of your lips and that sleepy smile that’s all for him. Heavy lashes flutter when he lets you go and shoves his shorts down to give you room to work. “You can get me back when we wake up.”

He throbs in your grasp at the promised idea of getting you back and all that entails. He can’t help himself but think of wet and warm places while your hand moves in languid strokes. Hot puffs of air across his chest where you lay your head to watch and then he’s watching you watching yourself and falling into a vortex of horniness. He wants to weave his fingers into your hair for some reason. Wants to feel the softness between his fingers while you rub velvet skin through your own.

“Eddie?” You pant into his shirt, lips catching and dragging on the cotton.

“Yeah?”

“What were you reciting?”

It almost pulls him out of his pleasure it’s jars him so. Briefly he thinks about lying and saying Shakespeare but you’re already giving him a 3 am handjob so he thinks he might not have to fib. “Jabberwocky.”

“Alice in Wonderland?” Your hand leaves his cock suddenly but he doesn’t get to whine about it before he’s whining about you licking your palm and getting back to work. He nods above you like you could see him but it earns him a chuckle from you and a stray few fingers that tug at his balls.

“God damnit yes.” He does push his hand into your hair then, the other fisting into the sheets beside him. You make a passing remark about reciting it then but he honestly might not even know his own name. The way his legs move restlessly against the bed and his fingers grip into your scalp. The damp slide of your palm over the head of his cock, the twisting motion you keep doing, it’s all rocketing him towards his finish. The burn of it in his belly clouding his senses and making him buck his hips up into your touch. The air of your breath keeps breezing over his overheated skin and your panting laughs are shoving him closer and closer until he’s squeezing his eyes shut and going stiff.

Warm lines splash up his stomach and he knows in a minute or two he’ll feel shame unmatched by man heretofore known but right now he couldn’t care. Soft hands drag him through the aftershocks while you make praiseworthy noises into his chest. You coo at him for a job well done and he can feel the heat rise on his cheeks. Sitting up again to look back at him your drag a finger through the mess he made and when you take three seconds to inspect it he doesn’t expect you to bring it to your lips.

“I-“ He what? What can he say while he watches you suck on your index finger like he does? When a slick grin hooks the corner of your mouth up into something devilish and he has an awakening at almost 4 am.

“How was that, huh? Glad we got that over with?” You drop your cheek to your shoulder to give him a smolder but Eddie needs to taste your lips after you’ve tasted him. It’s a need not a want so he rushes you, pushes you back into the bed and gets his mess everywhere but it doesn’t matter. He kisses you deep until you both have to come up for air and then he’s peppering your neck in them until your giggling is too much.

He uses his shirt to wipe himself off, promising a shower in the morning, and pulls both of you under the covers to conspire in the afterglow.

“Do you think reading that poem is gonna Pavlov you now?”

“How so?”

“I mean,” your laugh cuts into your explanation, “slithy toves kind of sounds like a name for-“

“Pussy! I know!” He laughs with you. “And Bandersnatch!”

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕲UESS ᝰ! CHAPTER SIX

synopsis: katseye lucked out when their team managed to score a-list award-winning actress, y/n l/n to be featured in their upcoming music video for ‘touch’. when the cameras turn off and the doors close, lara feels a little more than just onscreen chemistry with her music video love interest.

On the drive to the café, you assured your manager you would make sure you all show up to the studio on time. In the black corvette you got from your parents as a gift for your 18th after winning a Golden Globe. Dressed in a grey sweater, a navy MLB cap on backwards, some camo sweats, and some ice, you were definitely dressed more on the comfort-casual side. You knew you were going to be thrown in so many different styles and getups for the day, you needed some relief.

You hadn’t even noticed your heart drumming against your chest until you turned into the last corner the café was on. You usually concealed emotions well, especially when it came to meeting different kinds of people. It was your job to be able to put up a front, but the sound of your heart racing against in your ear was drowning out the sound of the radio.

The café you wanted to go to was frequented by Californian stars, you knew their security personnel was good enough for you to have a private first meeting.

When you parked, you checked yourself in the mirror, yanking your phone out of its holder. You texted your manager a quick message informing him of your arrival before getting out the car. Sophia had texted you they had arrived a couple minutes ago, so you’d assumed they had gotten a seat for themselves. When you entered the coffee shop, you were greeted by the barista you had the pleasure of befriending after many trips here for a snack early before a flight or late after a shoot.

“Hey, y/n, good to see you.” Yeonjun called. He grabbed a paper cup, flipping it in-air before holding a pen to its “I got your usual coming up. Want a bite today?”

You hummed, “Yeah, an eclair would be great. I’m actually here to meet a couple new friends, YJ. Did you happen to see a group of pretty women walking in here?”

He nodded, gesturing towards the back. “Around the cut, I got them a table out of view. Figured it was important.”

You shot him a smile. “Thanks. $30 in the jar for you.”

You stuffed a couple notes in the tip jar, giving him a wink. He chuckled, shaking his head. “You spoil me.”

When you circled around back to the VIP section of this café, it was criminal how fast your eyes scouted the group out of the few people sitting. When they spotted you, Sophia was first to stand, meeting you in the middle for a brief hug.

“Oh my God, y/n! It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, likewise. Damn, you guys are crazy tall.” You joked, glancing between all six of them. They were a good couple inches taller than you, but their bright smiles and vibrant clothing gave them a softer, friendlier edge. “And more beautiful than your pictures, which I didn’t think was possible.”

They’re all stunning in their own way—each with a presence that demands attention—but one of them catches your eye almost immediately. Her tall, dark and mysterious aura seemed to intrigue you—just like she had when you saw her pictures.

She’s standing just a few feet away, her posture confident but not overbearing. There's an easy grace to her movements as she adjusts something on her wrist, her attention momentarily focused on fixing the crooked bracelet as Manon and Sophia bombarded you with words. Yet, as soon as her gaze shifted to meet yours, it broke through your professional exterior, you glanced down, swallowing thickly to regather your composure. You looked up, feeling Daniela push herself forward between the two eldest members of the group.

“Honey, we are absolutely obsessed with you.” she grinned, tilting her head. She was rather affectionate, loud when she was excited. You could see why your friends recommended texting her to break the ice. “When we found out we would be working with you, I almost broke my phone.”

“Spoiler alert, she did break her phone.” Megan snorted, earning an exaggerated glare from Daniela.

As they bickered about, you found your nerves easing at the chaotic energy these girls brought. Without the supervision of their manager, they were rather unfiltered, and that made you a lot more comfortable. Still, your attention split between the narrative and a certain red-headed Scorpio, who had yet to say anything despite being the one you’ve talked to most online.

You found yourself drawn to her. There's something about the way she carried herself—effortless, cool, but with a quiet intensity that felt magnetic. The other members chattered around you, making small talk, but your attention kept slipping back to Lara, who seemed to sense your curious gaze. She offered you a subtle, knowing smile, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat. And that had only ever happened around one other person in your life, a person who loved playing games with you.

"Do y’know anything about the music video?" When she finally spoke, her voice was smooth, velvety, almost teasing, as if she already knew more about you than she let on. It didn’t seem intentional, like that was who she was, who she presented herself to be. It was so attractive, so electrifying.

"No," you managed, your words feeling a little more breathless than you'd like. "My manager didn’t tell me anything.”

Her smile widened just a fraction, her eyes flicking down your outfit before returning to your face. "I think it’s gonna be fun. But you’ll be in and out the changing room a lot today."

Both of you didn’t seem to notice the knowing glances shared among the other five members, before Sophia cleared her throat, changing the topic. “We gotta head to the studio, have you gotten anything to eat yet?”

You nod, the energy between the two of you palpable now, thick with unspoken curiosity. As the others continue talking, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more here—a connection, an unspoken understanding—that might make this experience with Katseye something… memorable. And it’s definitely not just the music video you’re thinking about now.

You can’t help but wonder how deep this connection could go.

You just could not stop thinking about Lara. You wanted nothing more than to get to know her better, get to know what was behind those sharp eyes and gated lips. Her confidence was intoxicating, the way her eyes raked you up and down, despite showing no interest over text and obviously having a lot of people she’s talking to on the side.

You had been welcomed by so many respectful staff, given so many gifts and invited into comfortable spaces. Even when you were finally stripped out of your last outfit and lead to a room to wait while Roy and Katseye’s team made a couple arrangements, you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was obvious to you there were more eager members of the band who wished for some time alone, but you just wanted to figure her out. As insane as that sounded, you reminded yourself you only began texting this woman for one weekend, and this morning was the first time you’d laid eyes on her.

“Okay, thank you for waiting, y/n.” Grayson, the director of the music video announced when he walked through the door. “It’s an honour to be able to work with you.”

“Likewise,” you replied with a smile, eyeing Sophia behind him.

“So I’ve explained your parts in this music video. You’re the woman these girls have been thinking about, they’re sad, they’re mad, they’re frustrated with you toying with their feelings.” You nodded along to his explanation, “You’ll be filmed rolling your eyes when they call, ignoring them, flirting with other people and stuff but those are standalone scenes. For another part of the video we’re gonna film last, we need you posing in a photo booth with one of the girls like a cute couple, before walking down the street chasing after another woman you saw through the shop window.”

So you were playing the toxic partner in a relationship; that’s a first, you’ve always been on the receiving end.

“So right now, we have the girls lined up and we’ll do a really quick chemistry screening. Sophia’s up first.”

The two of you shared a quick smile, before you were guided towards a table with two cups in front of a camera. You were then told to act like the two of you were on a date. And though Sophia’s bright expression softened the awkward tension at first, it was obvious when the two of you would accidentally move your hands at the same time and apologize quickly.

The director shook his head, “Okay, the two of you look cuter as a friendship, the romance feels forced on screen.”

Sophia nodded, the two of you sharing a couple words making a joke about breaking up before the leader was invited to leave. Then came Manon, and you knew it was going to be a while.

next. 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ masterlist.

taglist: @vivilvr @1luvkarina @meiphobic @yeetaberry127 @lafortezalover @lararajjj @kristalag @meizinisnumberone @vrtualstar @artrizzler19 @arihiu @cassiespoiler @nyssalvr @hazel-tanthamore22 @kathleenmikaelson @taikabui @wtfisthisnoclueman @onlyyou-metanoia @yjiminswallet @firstclassjaylee @xochitlisbest @saysirhc @sunshinez4 @fruityg0rl @urmom2314 @cceanvvaves @bowforgodjihyo @blushmimi (taglist open!)

[shion-yu]

Based on this prompt by @wisteria-whump.

Whumpee wasn’t sure how the lawyer found him. After all, he’d changed his name, not that Whumper had ever used it. Whumpee was in a completely different state. And yet…

“I’m calling for a Mr. Johnson, formerly Whumpee?”

Whumpee’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t heard his old name in years. He should have hung up right there. Or more rationally, said, “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong number.” But all the things Whumpee had buried, actively tried not to think about on the daily, was crawling its way out of the twenty foot deep hole he’d dug to thrown them into and screaming.

The lawyer went on. Whumpee barely managed to comprehend that Whumper had died, left everything to him. There was an estate, money, the matter of determining what to do with the remains…

“He’s really dead?” Whumpee asked slowly.

“Yes, he’s really dead,” the lawyer repeated in confusion. “You didn’t know?”

Fuck.

Whumper was dead. The executor of all of Whumpee’s nightmares was just… gone. Maybe he should have felt relief, but he was still hooked on the fact that after all these years, Whumper still thought of him at all. Knew where he lived. And had simply been letting him live his new life that Whumpee had thought he had so carefully curated in complete anonymity.

The rest of the conversation was a blur. There were papers to sign, keys to obtain. Whumpee still thought maybe this was an elaborate hoax to get him back. He requested to see the body before anything. Surely it would end there, but no. It was Whumper. Older, but just the same. Smiling peacefully, his mouth sewed shut and pinned into a pleasant facade even in death.

As much as Whumpee wanted to decline everything, keep the past where it belonged, he couldn’t pass up the money. It was far more than he would have expected Whumper to have. It felt like blood money, but it was Whumpee’s blood so he deserved it, right?

He had Whumper cremated. Apparently there was no one else to make those kind of decisions for Whumper. Figured. When asked what to do with the ashes, Whumpee requested they be disposed of. “Yes, all of them,” he clarified.

Finally, the property. It was still the same house. Whumpee had never known the address, but they sent him a picture to verify. Just that was enough to warrant a day of violent puking. Whumpee knew he should have just asked it be sold as a package, paid whatever portion needed to a brokered to get it done without him there. But when he went to make that call, he couldn’t do it. There was this morbid curiosity. What if everything was still there?

Whumpee took a week off work. It probably wasn’t enough time, but he figured if he had something to come back to it would keep him from being unable to return to the life he’d made for himself. He drove to the house, the GPS politely informing him of the directions as if it were just any other place.

“Turn left,” it said.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?” Whumpee sighed. Talking to his car wasn’t making him feel any less sane.

When Whumpee arrived, he found a pleasant house in a pleasant neighborhood. The sun was shining, and it seemed to tease Whumpee. Invalidate that this was any other place but a friendly home. For all the excuses he’d made to delay coming here, now Whumpee floated through the door, jaw set resolutely in a promise not to let this experience pick him up and throw him so far backwards it would have invented time travel. He was just coming to make amends with the past, and to keep it there. Maybe this would even be good for him.

Yeah, right.

The entire home, a one level ranch, was completely the same. The few times Whumpee had been allowed up here, he’d marveled at how normal everything was. It was like a TV sitcom home. Orderly and complete and sickening average. There were personal belongings, and Whumpee would go through them later to see if they were worth anything. Maybe he should learn who Whumper actually was - were there childhood photos? Could you tell just by looking at them what that child would become?

Every two seconds, Whumpee’s mind screamed that this was a mistake. Maybe he should have listened.

Instead, he found himself turning the silver door handle of the coat closet in the kitchen, pushing aside the hangers that still had clothes on them. As metal wire screeched against metal, Whumpee shivered to remember that sound that had always preceded a visit. And the smell was exactly the same. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this alone. Too late now.

The trap door was surprisingly easy to open. He had expected it to be locked with multiple locks, but it was just a simple deadbolt. Almost inviting him in with its ease. For a sick second, Whumpee thought maybe this was a trap after all. But he’d seen the body, and nobody else was in this house. Whumpee still propped the door open, and made sure the gun he kept was still in his back pocket.

Whumpee walked down the stairs, wincing when the third to last step still squeaked. Whumper had never fixed it, it seemed. If the coats hadn’t woken Whumpee up back then, that stair always had. Whumpee would know to get up, brush his teeth, and come kneel in the middle of the room to greet Whumper obediently. He remembered the way he’d catch that familiar smell of cologne that Whumper favored. The little pieces of lint that would fall off Whumper’s clothes that Whumpee collected, just in case it came in handy some day. How, Whumpee had no idea. He’d just clung to any tiny shards of evidence that a world beyond the walls of this bunker had still existed, and…

“Oh.”

Whumpee’s thoughts were interrupted by the shock of another voice. No, god no, this couldn’t be happening.

There, in front of him, stood somebody else. Not Whumper, as much as Whumpee knew he would have loved to rise from the ashes and see this moment. It was a pale wisp of the bare outline of a person just as Whumpee had been the day he escaped. It was Whumpee’s successor. Why was there a successor?!

“Are you my new owner?”

[thelifeofchuckmovie]

Tom Hiddleston was in perpetual motion while shooting the outdoor dance number at the heart of The Life of Chuck. It was already difficult enough that he was sweating through his gray suit, but then a heatwave hit their downtown street location as they filmed in the Deep South.

“I burned holes in my shoes,” Hiddleston says. “I was dancing out on the asphalt in Alabama, and by the time we’d finished, you could see my socks through the soles.”

It should have been hellish, but the Loki star describes it more in terms of what Fred Astaire famously sang in Top Hat: “Heaven…I’m in heaven.” “It was always really fun,” Hiddleston says.

Mike Flanagan, the filmmaker behind The Haunting of Hill House, Midnight Mass, and such Stephen King adaptations as Doctor Sleep and Gerald’s Game, wanted to film this 2020 novella by the best-selling author not because it was especially terrifying, but because it was the opposite: uplifting, inspiring, hopeful. (Even though, technically, it’s also about the destruction of the entire world.)

Joy in the face of oblivion was the whole point—and how he recruited Hiddleston to literally hot-step through the most crowd-pleasing sequence of the film. “I remember when he read the script, it took him a few weeks,” Flanagan says. “He was traveling with his family on vacation. When he read the script, he wanted to talk right away. And we talked mostly about the concept of joy and about what he wanted his then infant son to feel in the world. So it became really clear that he was the guy.”

The inspiring apocalypse story, as it is now known, won the audience award at the Toronto International Film Festival last year before being picked up for distribution by Neon, the indie powerhouse that released best-picture winners Parasite and Anora. It debuts in limited release on June 6 and expands nationally on June 13, but long before either of them were sure The Life of Chuck would find its audience, Hiddleston and Flanagan threw themselves into a dance number they hoped would endure for the ages.

“I would dance off to the side,” Flanagan says. “I tried to moonwalk with Tom. They taught me how to do it—I can’t do it. I’m so self-conscious, and I’m so afraid of how I look, and I’m so embarrassed as I start to move my body.” Shooting the sequence with Hiddleston and his dance partner, actor Annalise Basso, was about breaking free of that kind of restraint.

“It was like watching two people leave the ground. For four days, we watched that over and over, from start to finish, and it never lost that feeling,” Flanagan says. “Even for the extras watching it, the smiles, the applause, the delight was authentic. By the third day of the shoot, I was like, I never want to shoot anything else. I could work and just shoot this scene for the rest of my career.”

But all good things come to an end, which is the prevailing message of The Life of Chuck, according to Hiddleston, who spoke with Vanity Fair about exactly what went into creating that moment.

Courtesy Dan Anderson/ Neon.

Vanity Fair: I remember talking to Stephen King when The Life of Chuck was first published about how this was an experiment for him. He was playing with narrative in a three-act story that moves backwards. He was taking a chance, trying something new, right?

Tom Hiddleston: That’s it. It's exactly that. I remember reading this script over Easter of 2023, and those exact sentiments struck me immediately in a very profoundly emotional way. Life is short, and we have an imperative to grab it with both hands. We don't know how short it's going to be. None of us know the date or the day when the lights will go out. We don't know why or how. All we know is we have the life that we have now.

Exactly who Chuck is and why he is so important to the universe is one of the story’s mysteries. We also see him as a young boy, but tell me about where you fit into his lifespan.

I played Chuck in the most middle-aged of his incarnations. I think he's at a fulcrum point, one of those moments he'll remember when he looks back. The life of every human being is a constellation, as expressed in this film. There are certain moments which will burn most brightly as individual stars.

And yet, it’s an apocalypse story.

Sometimes it feels like the world is going to hell in a handcart, and it’s full of pain and suffering, and it is—but there are moments of deep joy and connection. There is a profound optimism in this story. As the world is spinning off its axis, there are moments of magic.

They also appear unexpectedly.

Often those moments are ordinary. They don't come gift-wrapped with a bow. They don't come heralded or announced or garlanded. They just arrive—and they're magic, and you'll never forget them. Chuck's journey through his life is full of suffering and loss, and yet there are these moments of vitality and presence.

As the world decays and collapses, these billboards and posters and banners appear, showing you as Chuck—congratulating him on “39 great years.” Another of the film’s mysteries is why this seemingly boring man is so significant to the fabric of reality.

That Chuck's life is one ordinary individual life, but it can stand for all of our ordinary lives.There's a riff on Walt Whitman's great line, "I am large. I contain multitudes." And to some extent, I've always believed that, anyway, about human beings. I believe most of us have greater breadth and depth and range than a narrow perspective on our lives will allow.

But he’s not some demigod or cosmic figure. That’s not the twist.

Chuck is an accountant. Numbers are his thing. He also was a great dancer in high school, but you might not know that to look at Chuck the first time you see him. You might see the gray suit and the Samuel Windsor oxfords and the armor of accountancy. To look at him, you wouldn't think he was a great dancer, or he loved it, or that his grandmother taught him how to dance in their kitchen. All this detail, all of this depth and range, you wouldn't know. And I believe that's true of all of us. I believe all of us have these interior universes.

That’s the feel-good aspect of this end-of-the-world story?

I hope that speaks to the audience in the same way. It's about what we will remember in the last days of our lives. Those are the moments that will flash across our mind. I have a hunch—obviously. I'm still here, so I don't know—but I have a hunch those moments are not necessarily the big moments. They're the small moments. And the small moments themselves are not small.

What was your introduction to this story? The book, the script …?

I responded immediately to Mike Flanagan's screenplay, and then I obviously went back to the story in Stephen King's collection, If It Bleeds.I found it so ingenious, playing with time and playing with perspective.

One of the things we know going into this film is that at some point, Chuck has an epic dance sequence. Tell me about constructing that and the choreography by Mandy Moore (who’s best known for So You Think You Can Dance, 2016’s La La Land, and the dance numbers in Taylor Swift’s Eras tour.)

As described by Stephen King, it's the most free and fluid and elegant and precise that he has ever moved. He just dances with freedom and precision, and it crystallizes in a perfect moment of form and expression. And I thought: no pressure. [Laughs.]

How long did you have to rehearse?

I had to learn in six weeks the full regimen of any dance training. We did jazz, swing, salsa, cha-cha, the Charleston, bossa nova, polka, quickstep, samba. I can't think of all of them ... There were so many routines.

Fun or painful?

I loved it. I love dancing anyway. I've never danced at this level before. Working with Mandy and her assistant choreographer, Stephanie Powell [best known for Wicked], in London, and Taylor Gordon, the drummer, and Annalise Basso, who plays Janice, who I was dancing with ... It was just so fun to put this together.

Taylor plays a busker in this scene, a woman who is just playing her drum kit for cash on a street corner when her rhythms catch Chuck’s ear. And Annalise is a stranger who joins him in the spur of the moment. How do you keep it looking like it’s impromptu, but still precisely planned?

We didn't have a lot of time, and we just were thrown in at the deep end. Mandy worked with Annalise for a couple of weeks in Los Angeles. I worked with Stephanie for a couple of weeks in London. Then they flew to London for a week, and we put it all together. I've never learned anything with such intensity, I think.

Why do you think this scene hits the people who’ve seen it so hard?

The gray man in the gray suit and the gray tie puts his gray suitcase down and starts moving his hips to the beat of those drums. He's on his way to a meeting, and now he's probably going to be late for the meeting. He just thinks this is a jam, and “I'm into it.” And he starts to move. It had to have that total freedom and joy and vitality and life inside it.

This has a domino effect on the onlookers and the drummer. And maybe the audience too. This wave of that emanates from him. Stephen King has called the movie “a happiness machine.”

I think the character of the drummer, she’s not expecting anyone to pay much attention. Maybe someone will throw in a $10 bill or a $20 bill, but she's expecting quarters. She's not expecting this accountant to stop and dance. It takes flight on its own wings. It's not premeditated. It's not preconceived. It happens completely in the present tense.

Despite all the rehearsal, did you improvise much during the shoot?

Every time I did it, every take, something would happen which would be unplanned or accidental, and we'd always use it. Always. My glasses would fly off my head, or my tie would go flying, or something would happen with the crowd.

Are there any homages to classic dance numbers built into the performance?

We were trying to tip our hat to anything that might have influenced Chuck. It might’ve had a bit of Gene Kelly or Fred and Ginger. Certainly moonwalking—Stephen King is very specific about the moonwalk.

That's true!

I knew I had to do that.

This interview has been edited to add context and clarity.